A/N: It has been forvever, I know! I'm really sorry I haven't written in months. I could sit here and write one hundred reasons as to why, but I won't bore you with it. I'll just say that I am sorry, and I will try not to let it happen again.

Warning: Slash.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

"Something wrong, Harry? You seem a bit dazed," Hermione commented inquisitively.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting comfortably in the three squishiest armchairs nearest to the blazing fire. The Common Room was nearly vacant, with the exception of the trio and a few Seventh Years talking animatedly across the room. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were finishing up their homework before heading up to bed. Or at least Hermione and Ron were. Harry, on the other hand, was staring out the window, watching a light snow fall. He was in another world at the moment, thinking. It was quite obvious he wasn't working though; the single sentence on his paper was an indiscreet indicator for his friends.

Hermione's question instantly brought him out of his reverie.

"No... nothing," he replied calmly. "I think I'm going to head up to bed though. 'Night."

Harry threw his books and parchment haphazardly into his bag.

When he looked up to leave, he saw Hermione staring back at him with a peculiar look in her eyes. Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He smiled at her briefly, acknowledging her. She immediately returned the smile, but the strange look didn't leave her eyes.

Ron, unaware of the exchange between the two, interrupted.

"I'll be up in a few, mate. I just need to finish this stupid essay for Snape." Ron said. Harry was rather sure that he had mumbled something that sounded like 'bloody wanker' under his breath.

"Alright. See you."

And with that, he climbed up the stairs to his dormitory.

Upon entering the room, he heaved his book bag on top of his trunk and flung himself onto his bed, sighing dramatically.

He was, in short, utterly perplexed by the situation that he was now facing. In fact, that was all he was able to think about. Really... What the hell am I supposed to do? To him, there was no solution; every possible answer would result horribly. There was, sadly, no solution in sight.

He could tell Draco. Oh, yes, that would be lovely, especially after he punches me in the face and curses me into oblivion, he thought sarcastically. He could simply forget and Draco and the letters and pretend it never happened. But I'll never be able to make myself forget. He is the single person in this world and understands. I can't let that go. He could tell Draco that he would like to keep corresponding but would prefer it if they didn't meet in person. That isn't fair to him, he thought reasonably.

Harry let out a very long, exasperated sigh and sat up. He looked around the room and noticed that soft snores were emitting from behind the curtains of three out of the five beds in the room. He quicky placed a Silencing Charm on the occupied beds ensuring that he wouldn't wake anybody up as he readied himself for bed.

Midway through pulling his night shirt on, he heard a soft knock on the door and the sound of the door opening and closing. Bewildered as to who is was, because Ron certainly wouldn't knock, Harry quickly finished pulling his shirt over his head, enabling him to see.

Harry let out a very long, exasperated sigh and sat up. He looked around the room and noticed that soft snores were emitting from behind the curtains of three out of the five beds in the room. He quicky placed a Silencing Charm on the occupied beds ensuring that he wouldn't wake anybody up as he readied himself for bed. Midway through pulling his night shirt on, he heard a soft knock on the door and the sound of the door opening and closing. Bewildered as to who is was, because Ron certainly wouldn't knock, Harry quickly finished pulling his shirt over his head, enabling him to see.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

There she stood in front of the door. She was staring at her feet when she began to speak.

"I know you have already said that nothing has been wrong lately, and I believe you and everything," she said putting much emphasis on the last part, "but I still wanted to make sure that you know that I am here for you, and you can always talk to me. Alright?"

"Thanks," he replied smiling, "but really, everything is fine."

"Okay... I just wanted to make sure. Just let me know if you need someone to talk to... or help... or just anything at all."

As much as Harry appreciated the offer, he was positive that she couldn't fix this problem with her cleverness. And although he knew she couldn't help, he figured it wouldn't hurt to get a few things off his chest. Uncharacteristically, he tried to figure out how to word the situation.

He slowly sat down on the bed. After fiddling with his thumbs for a few moments, he began, still looking at his hands. "Hermione... What do you do when, "he hesitated a moment," when you really like , even possibly love, someone you blatantly shouldn't? You know for a fact that it would never work... And it is just completely wrong for you to want to be with this person anyway, but you still can't help your feelings..."

Harry stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts again. He looked up to Hermione to see her reaction. A small, sad smile graced her lips. And although he never imagined feeling comfortable talking about this to her, after starting he couldn't stop.

"Every piece of logic in your mind is screaming at you... saying that it is absolutely ridiculous to even think about. And you know that there is no point anyway because the other person would never, ever possibly feel the same, yet you can't help but wanting to be with them... and talk to them, and touch them, and kiss them. Every second your mind is filled with that person, and you can't help it. No matter how badly you want it to stop... No matter how much you hate them for making you feel this way, you just can't get over them."

By the time her finished tears were running down his cheeks.

Harry quickly hid his face in his hands. After a minute or two of breathing heavily into his palms, he raised his head.

He look at Hermione straight in the eyes with flushed cheeks, even messier than usual hair, and tear filled eyes.

"You love this person with every fiber of your body, but you know by doing so you are just hurting yourself. Sometimes you even want to kill them because you loathe them so much for doing this to you. But in the end, you can't even do that because they mean so much to you.

"Tell me, Hermione," he pleaded desperately, "please tell me what you are supposed to do... because I just can't do this anymore. I can't take it."

"Oh, Harry," she said. She scooted up right next to him and put her arms around his shoulders, holding him like a child.

He sat there sobbing silently, and without tears. He was being way to open with her, and he knew it. But as he said, he couldn't take it anymore, and it felt good to get it out. Once he began telling her what was wrong he couldn't stop. He couldn't make himself, and he was almost thankful for it. He needed to let go.

"Listen to me, Harry," she began in a soft but commanding voice. "Unless I am mistaken, which I am sure I am not, you are not a Seer. You can't predict how someone will react or feel... you just can't. Those type of things are simply unpredictable. You never know with those types of things... They just aren't certain. Why don't you give it a try. You'll never know unless you try. And if you don't, you'll spend years wondering what could of happened had you confessed your feelings. The worst that could happen is only them not returning the feelings... And I don't see why they wouldn't because you are a wonderful person, Harry."

"I'm sorry, but you really don't know who we are talking about Hermione. Trust me, if you did, your opinion would change."

"No, it wouldn't," she said as if he insulted her. "I believe you should always tell someone if you have feelings for them because there is always a chance that they might like you back."

"Believe me, they don't."

"Harry! Stop being so negative and stubborn."

"Then you stop being so goddamn optimistic! I'm sorry, Hermione, but you do not know the entire situation so you can't possibly understand this," he said unmannerly. "Can we stop talking about this now? You evidently don't get it."

With the feeling that she pushed the line a bit too far, she bit back a retort.

"Alright... I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help, okay?"

"Okay. I'm going to bed now. 'Night," he replied shortly.

As Harry got into bed that night he couldn't help but thinking what a disaster that had turned out to be. He was quickly reminded why he had stopped confiding in his friends in the first place.

But talking to Hermione did one good thing for him: It made him admit something to himself. He did, in fact, love Draco Malfoy, or at least the Draco he spoke to through the letters. This was something he used to be very quick in denying.

Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking about Draco and how we wanted things to turn out when he entered dreamland, halfway between being awake and sleeping soundly. Though he wasn't in reality... It was just an illusion that had been keeping Harry sane for the past couple of days.

Harry awoke surprisingly refreshed the next day. Not 'I am ready to take on the world' refreshed but 'I know what I need to do' refreshed.

He knew, finally, what he needed to do. Although the thought frightened him greatly, he knew that what had to be done had to be done. He need to reveal himself to Draco as his pen pal, and that is precisely what he planned on doing.

On his way to breakfast he made a quick detour to the seventh floor, to the corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy foolishly attempting to teach trolls ballet.

At breakfast his stomach felt very uneasy, so opted to just sip his pumpkin juice. Hermione glanced at him every couple of moments, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Maybe one day he would tell Hermione that he took her advice (most likely to blame her for his untimely death), but not today.

A/N: Reviews are lovely.