Understanding

by Ydream08

Chapter 4

It was one hell of a night. Harry still couldn't believe the lengths he had gone to persuade Slughorn to eventually fail. The Professor had been so livid when Harry had come clean about his intention of seeking the memory of young Voldemort. He had been so enraged that Harry had thought, for a split second, that the elder wizard would lock his door in their faces whilst a drugged Ron hung in Harry's arms.

Harry could fight dark wizards and defeat monsters, ranging from Trolls to Basilisks, but he was incompetent when it came to reversing love potions. He felt guilty now that a small part of him had seen the situation as an opportunity. Let Ron think he was in love with Romilda Vane! What was the harm, right? But the gain had sparkled in Harry's eyes. How else could he have knocked on Slughorn's door in the middle of the night? After a less than pleasant encounter, not to mention.

The man had offered them wine, even.

Snorting at the recollection, Harry glanced back at the pale face of Ron. The sick hue remained as his body had only recently won against the poison thanks to Madam Pomfrey's potions.

Harry was an idiot. A quick thinking idiot, who was thanking the Half-Blood Prince for the tip of Bezoar, but still.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been alerted in the middle of the night, but as dawn broke, the siblings were yet to arrive.

It would not matter. Harry didn't intend to be removed from his seat. His mate, his brother, needed him.

Harry exhaled and forced his tension to ease out. Rolling his hips on the chair and gathering his arms, he let his head fall to the back of the chair. There would be a couple of hours yet before he was kicked out to classes.

"Mr. Potter, I will insist you go take a quick nap, at least."

Harry straightened and pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. Shaking his head, he watched as Madam Pomfrey tended to Ron and exchanged reassuring nods with the parents.

Exhaustion cleared his mind of any thought. The pounding in his head would have prevented any decent theory in his mind, but he was sick of questioning the 'why's. Why was Ron poisoned? Why was a poison in the school to begin with, hidden in a wine? Gifted to Slughorn, no less? Who had intended to share it with Dumbledore? Why had Katie Bell been cursed? Why was this damned school was a timed-bomb? Where was Dumbledore, who apparently was the timer of the said-bomb? Whenever he was not around, all hell broke loose!

And when Harry was about…

Harry wiped his face at that thought but he couldn't help himself. Ever since he set foot in Hogwarts, there occurred scandalous dangers unlike the school had seen over half a century.

It was because of him. He was destruction. It was always him. Why? He did not know.

"Harry?"

It was a miracle how he heard being addressed in the storm of his thoughts. Glancing up, he caught sight of riotous brown curls and the form of his familiar girlfriend. No, friend. Best mate. His lover. No.

Hermione. Just Hermione.

"Harry!" she called again and rushed to him. Mimicking her panic, Harry shot to his feet and good thing he did, because Hermione had thrown herself over him.

"I heard just now. I was so worried. Are you okay?" Hermione squeezed tightly while she questioned him. Before he could appreciate her firm hold, she broke away and reached for Ron. Grasping his forearm lightly, she add. "Is Ron okay? What happened?"

Sitting at the chair while Hermione hovered by his side, Harry noted Ginny had arrived as well. Greeting her too, Harry got to counting the events. It was reassuring to have Hermione by his side, her hand on his shoulder.

Harry realised he didn't expect anything similar from Ginny. She was sat by the edge of the bed, focused on her brother.

Dismissing the alien thought, Harry finished the story but Hermione hushed him before he could get to his speculations. She shook her head as if to say it was not the place.

Harry conceded.

The following two hours were a blur with Lavender Brown visiting Ron.

Harry never minded the fellow Gryffindor girl. But the glare she shot to Hermione set his blood ablaze. What was her problem? Storming in and accusing Hermione of… of what?

Harry had focused back at Ron who was asleep, quite unhearing of Brown's mumblings. They all thought that until Ron whispered back Hermione's name.

As Hermione was stood behind him, Harry did not have the chance to see her reaction but his was immediate. Shock, annoyance and jealousy.

Creasing his brows, Harry chanced a glance at Hermione and realized she acted like she had not heard it.

Good thing it was only him, Hermione and Lavender Brown as close as they were. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to have breakfast, and Ginny conversed with Madam Pomfrey across the room.

Lavender Brown's fit of rage and immediate departure was questioned by Ginny but no one answered her. And thankfully, Ron never again muttered anything unconscious.

Hermione was aware it was Harry who entered through the Portrait hole. His strut and clothes were a give-away. He made no sound with his feet, but the short glance of his untucked shirt and messy hair were enough to identify the intruder. Hermione hadn't even lifted her eyes from her book.

"Hey," he mumbled and let his bag drop by the couch.

Hermione made a non-committal sound of affirmation, but she didn't engage in conversation. She and Harry had reconciled about the Half-Blood Prince book.

After the accident with Malfoy, he had cried in her arms and promised to never ever use it again. She had rushed to the Hospital Wing yet again that year when she heard the news, and Harry had stood there dumbstruck until he noticed her. That's when his wells broke.

That was last week. Ron didn't know of the crying bit of the story as she had helped Harry tidy up and brought him back to the dorms. Ron had been a huge help with consoling their friend because when Harry was next to Hermione, he ended up saying the mantra of his guilt and apologies.

The harm was done, but it had not been lethal.

Hermione hated that this notebook situation had to be resolved like this. Evil git or not, Malfoy didn't deserve being cut open in half. It was just that… this whole thing would have been prevented if Harry had listened to her.

Sighing at arrived to the same conclusion yet again, Hermione tried to let it go. Even if she was right, she couldn't always be right. And remind people that she was always right.

That was a social skill she had to repeat to herself.

Hermione barely noticed the couch dipping under Harry's weight, with how occupied she had been with thoughts, but she was indeed startled when Harry proceeded to lay in her lap.

Facing her, he removed his glasses to snuggle closer to her and it mildly tickled to have his nose in her jumper.

Not to mention it panicked her. "What are you doing? We are in the common room!"

Their friendship had found its tract back, so the past month there had been no cuddling, no touching, no sex whatsoever.

"I know. Geez, I was wearing my glasses when I walked in, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Glancing around the room and noting how there was no one besides them, Hermione exhaled and got back to her book. Would it hurt to have him lie in her lap?

Unseeing of the words in her page, Hermione wondered what would it be like to be in an actual relationship with Harry. Would they hold hands in the corridor, cuddle by an armchair in the common room, study together in the library?

"What are you reading?" he asked all of a sudden, reminding her that he was right there. His head on her thighs, his body curled towards her in the couch and quite fond of his place like Crookshanks.

"A book," Hermione replied, being a smart mouth and all.

Harry snorted and rose on his elbow. He acted to see the cover of the book, but he mumbled a sorry before putting his glasses back on. "I'll admit I can't read without my glasses, but you have to know that I'm not blind Hermione. And, I know what a book looks like."

Hermione giggled at his playful snark. "It's light-reading about theories of the warding charms. I found a couple useful ones but can't cast them yet. Figured, it would help."

"Did you, now?" Harry said and before Hermione registered the motion, Harry had reached for her stray curls and was now playing with them. "You're always one step ahead. I don't even know what to do with Slughorn. Occlumency lessons are out. You know the mess with Malfoy. And memories of Riddle are making me sick. It all comes down to that one bit of memory that only Slughorn knows the true version, and I can't get it from him."

In favor of attending to his concerns, Hermione would have ignored Harry's intimate proximity and even his loving play with her hair, but when his hand let go of her curls to palm her jaw, something clicked in Hermione.

"Harry, stop, just." She pushed him away and had the two of them sit across from each other. "You can't just... You can't-"

"What?" Harry said innocently and this for no reason angered Hermione even more. What was he thinking, seriously? Cupping her face, and drawing closer, then kissing her? That was the steps that led from the first motion.

"We have to talk about this," Hermione gritted out. "You and me. This… this...relationship? Godric, I don't even know what it is. I thought it was over. I told you we were friends."

"We are friends," Harry replied immediately which elicited an angry shriek from Hermione. "Hermione, it's simple-"

Hermione wanted to laugh. Simple? That was the last word to explain their situation. They fucked at convenience, were best mates, had ended the fucking part of their 'friendship' but now Harry wanted to do tender again. Kiss her, feel her and shag her. Without a proper relationship. Never talking about whether it was a relationship.

"We're good for each other. You're good for me," Harry desperately tried to explain. His emerald eyes sparkled with excitement over trying to explain it. "I can't think about surviving in this shit-hole of a life without you. Whenever I'm near you," At that he placed his hand back on her cheek as his thumb traced her lower lip. "I forget what a damned life I'm living. No Voldemort, no dead parents, no rumour of being barmy. It just works, Hermione."

Hermione reached for his hand and gently retracted it from her face. Holding it, she took a moment before meeting his eyes.

"That's alright, Harry. I'm happy to be by your side," Hermione hated seeing the hope in his eyes. "As a friend first."

That shattered all his delusions. Good.

"But I can't keep up with this... understanding, because I don't understand it. Why is it alright to touch you, kiss you and make love to you but not be your… girlfriend? Because I know we're not. Were not. You were never my boyfriend even as we shagged every other day of the week. I don't want it to be serious- or official. I just want it to be more than nothing."

Harry avoided her gaze now. He rose to his feet, shaking his head. "Don't," he whispered.

"I want it to be something, anything, but a disgusting stress-reliever or, or friends-with-benefits scenario. Because, Harry," At the sharp intake of breath, Harry turned to her. "Because I fancy you. Love you. More than a friend."

The still silence knocked the breath out of her, but she didn't feel the rush of air back until Harry faced away.

She knew the answer, but Hermione tried to explain one last time. "I can't be with you if you're not willing to give us a chance."

"No."

Hermione didn't know what she was expecting, but it was such a fast answer. Her eyes itched and ears rung as if she was slapped. Hard. Across the face.

"Then," she forced out, finally finding her voice. "We are friends. Only friends."