Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his world. I just play with them sometimes, but I always put them back where I found them.

A/N: Okay, this is me trying really, really hard to update more frequently. The really pathetic part is, I've already written the last…oh, let's say FIVE chapters. So I know exactly how it's going to end. The place where I'm stuck is meeting in the middle to ensure that my ending dovetails with the lead-up.

I also want you guys to know that part of why it takes me so long to post a new chapter is how much time I put into these. The Harry Potter Lexicon is my #1 source for all things Harry Potter, and I try really hard to make sure that the world I'm telling you about is the same one Rowling created. So, when you're reading about them walking somewhere, please trust that that is exactly how they would get there! The one exception is hidden passages. I use those when I can't figure out where something is ^_^

ADVERTISEMENT: I am looking for a beta reader to help me on this story. I have the last five or so chapters finished, so what I need is someone who can keep me in line with what is already written and posted, and still keeping the feel of what is yet to come. This would also need to be someone willing to help keep me on track and not forget to post chapters! I also need someone who is very into canon and can help me in catching any incontinuity. Any takers, please send me a PM, and I'll get back to you ASAP If you have a beta profile already, sending me a link to that would be just superb! Thanks!

~%%~

As he stood, Harry glanced down at Ginny with a questioning air. She shrugged in a carefully noncommittal way and went back to studying Defense Against the Dark Arts. Grabbing two slices of buttered toast, Harry trotted after Hermione's retreating figure, working hard not to stare too blatantly.

Hermione led him to the west side of the castle, just beneath the Owlery. He knew from hours spent up there with Hedwig that the view over the Forbidden Forest at sunset made the think woods look remarkably like the enchanted forest of so many Muggle fairy tales, but somehow from ground level, the forest appeared dangerous and foreboding today, even with a delicate dusting of snow painted across the canopy. Perhaps it was in the way that even the most daring rays of light could not penetrate the frozen tree tops, but no matter what it was, Harry shivered slightly.

Turning away from the forest, he faced Hermione, noting as he did so how lovely and pale she seemed against the background of blinding snow and her dark school robes. She, too, was looking out over the expanse of dark wood with a thoughtful expression.

"How far in do you suppose," she mused with an unusually playful look, "would we have to go for Filch to consider us actually being in the Forbidden Forest?"

Unsure of where this was going, Harry chose the safest response he could and simply said, "Not very far, I'd imagine. He's quite strict."

"Come with me," she whispered conspiratorially, grabbing his hand and pulling him a few feet into the shadow of the forest. Only a few paces in, the trees seemed to loom as though they were lost in the heart of the wood. "What on Earth happened this morning?"

For a brief moment, Harry considered pretending that he did not know what she was talking about. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he found that he did not have the words to lie to her. Hermione had every right to know what had happened, and even though he knew it would hurt her to hear of Ron's outburst, she would find out eventually and be even more hurt that the information had not come from him. In as calm a voice as he could manage, he relayed the events of that morning, how Ron had stayed up waiting for Harry to return from the library, how upset he'd been, and how everything Harry had said just set him off again and again.

Hermione, as always, was an excellent listener. She didn't interrupt and absorbed the news with a thoughtful look, as she truly took in the information. She didn't quite know what to think of it. Her first reaction was that Ron was just being a prat, but there seemed to be something more. Was it possible that he did still fancy her? The way Harry described it made her think not, but how many other possibilities were there? Ron's anger and sense of abandonment made sense to a certain extent, but to hit his best friend seemed extreme, even for him.

When Harry had finished talking, he hung his head with such a defeated sigh that Hermione stepped toward him and touched the back of his neck lightly with her fingertips. He sighed again in a much more pleasant manner. He tipped his head to smile up at her and held out his hands to her. Hermione's heart fluttered as he softly kissed the knuckles of each hand and pulled her onto his knee.

After several moments of contented silence, Harry took and deep breath and whispered, "Do you think he's jealous?"

"Perhaps."

He pulled her in tighter for a moment and let go. He gently lifted her onto her feet and stood without looking at her. "We should be getting back. We'll be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I suppose so."

~%%~

When they entered the classroom, Harry and Hermione made a silent decision to take their usual places in the classroom. Ron was already there in his usual place, and nodded quietly at Harry and Hermione as they entered. Harry was grateful to realize that, despite his anger at them, Ron was at least respecting their decision to keep quiet about their relationship. They took their seats quietly—Ron on Harry's left, Hermione on his right—and settled in as Professor Lupin began the day's lesson.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was uneventful that day, doing nothing to distract Harry from the nagging feeling at the back of his head, nor the throbbing in his eye. Professor Lupin had returned that year, and though many parents had objected to a werewolf teaching their children in light of the Dark Lord's return to power, the results of his excellent teaching and years of experience were irrefutable. Every student in the class had at least a fundamental understanding of defensive magic, even those who had not been in the D.A. the year before. Although there was no need for secretive meeting of Dumbledore's Army, students who had participated, as well as many who had only heard stories from friends, often approached Harry, Ron, and Hermione for advice when experiencing difficulty in the class. As a result, the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw sixth years were among the best in the school in their Defense Against the Dark Arts marks, while Malfoy and the other Slytherins still struggled with the more difficult magic.

As soon as everyone was settled, Lupin gave the call for wands away. Harry's hope for a distracting lesson, or, even better, one that would give him reason to be nearer Hermione, evaporated with most of the rest of his good mood. With a groan along with the rest of the class, he pulled out quill, ink, and parchment and began to take notes, focusing on Lupin's calm voice in an attempt to engross himself in the lecture.

Normally, Lupin's class was filled with incantations, the whooshing of spells, and the occasional crash as a hex veered off course. Today, however, he was lecturing the safe use of defensive and offensive magic in an enclosed space. Though he said that it was because of the increasingly dangerous spells they would be learning during the term, Harry strongly suspected that the events in Charms class the day before had urged Lupin's decision to change the lesson plan for the day.

Hermione worked very hard not to glance over at Harry during class. She caught herself several times staring at his quill hand as it worked across his parchment, taking notes in a more diligent manner than usual. She herself was having trouble concentrating, and for more than one reason. She was acutely aware of Harry's warmth beside her in a way she had never been before, and she was almost sure that he had moved his chair just a bit closer to hers when he sat done. With all the memories of the past days and hopes for more romantic moments that night filling her head, she found it difficult to ponder Ron's coping mechanisms too deeply.

Harry, however, could not let go of the potential of Ron's jealousy. His mind swarmed with opposing thoughts on the matter, while his hand mindlessly took notes, picking out phrases and words that Lupin summoned to the black board and blending them with his own dark thoughts.

In close quarters, it is especially necessary to be aware of one's surroundings. Without proper division of workspace, crossfire can and will occur, sometimes with deadly consequences. In any situation where dangerous magic is practiced with multiple partners…

Jealous? My best mate, can't let him go over something like that. I'd do anything for him. But it's Hermione(and this he underlined twice). Brightest witch in our year, she's always been there for me. He has too, I suppose…

It is imperative, therefore, that each pupil practice their aim outside of class time with non-dangerous spells, to decrease the risk of off-angled spells that may veer far from their intended target. When this happens in practice, an unprepared student will be in far more danger than one expecting to be attacked. In a real-life experience of battle, this is even more important, as one's teammates, partner, or innocent bystanders can be caught in the crossfire of poorly aimed spells…

But couldn't he just let go? He told me he was over her, so why would I ever suspect it would hurt him? She's chosen me, and if he can't deal with that, we're all going to have a problem really quickly...

Auror training involves extensive target practice of a wide variety of spells, especially those intended for multiple targets. A truly skilled and masterfully practiced witch or wizard can will their spells to affect only those they wish to be affected, even when line of sight or concentration is broken by an incoming spell or attacker…

But that's not what she'd say, is it? She's too noble to let our feelings and what we want hurt our friends. Can I be that good? Don't I have to be, if I ever want to deserve her? Maybe we could just be a secret. But what if she wants him, as well? Can I be that good to both of them?

…not to be taken lightly. What must always be remembered is that healing spells will always require more skill, time, and personal risk on the part of the spell-caster than taking the time to safely learn to cast a safe and well-aimed spell.

What if she wants him?

This last line he underwrote three times, pressing his quill so violently to the parchment that the tip tore through the thick paper with a loud, wet sound. He saw several other students turn to look at him curiously, and as he hurriedly smoothed out the torn parchment, his elbow knocked his ink bottle all over the desk. He felt Hermione jump beside him, and flushed scarlet as rage, desperation, and embarrassment tore through him. The whole class turned to look at him, and even Lupin stopped talking momentarily.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" he asked curtly.

"Sorry, sir. Slipped," Harry mumbled, quickly mopping up the black ink with the corner of his robes and trying to stem the flow dripping steadily onto the floor. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron trying to read the notes on his parchment, and shifted his sleeve to cover it.

Lupin dismissed the class shortly thereafter, and as everyone packed their bags to move on to Transfiguration, he called for Harry to stay behind.

After bidding Hermione and Ron farewell, without looking to see if Ron responded, Harry glumly tromped to Professor Lupin's desk.

~%%~

Hermione walked the path to Transfiguration with Ron in utter silence. It was a long way from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, several floors up and on the opposite end of the castle. Students having the two classes consecutively had to hurry not to be late. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers usually didn't mind, but leg cramps and heavy book bags were no excuse to McGonagall.

They did not speak except to fellow students as they passed them in the corridors. They did not speak as they walked side-by-side up a wide, wooden staircase, as they had a hundred times before. They did not speak when Ron gestured that Hermione go first through a narrow doorway.

She could tell he was trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, and tried to mirror his behavior with grace. It proved difficult, though, when what she wanted to do was hit him roundly in the back of the head with her book bag. She was grateful, despite herself, that he seemed to ready to protect her in whatever way Harry had said was best. How mad could he really be, then, if he were taking Harry's concerns seriously?

She was able to answer that question without thought. Both she and Ron knew Harry well enough that even if they vowed never to speak to him again, if he said run, they would run. No one in their year—or any student in Hogwarts, really—had gone up against more dark magic and ruthless evil than Harry had. No one would question his judgment if he was worried someone dear to him was in danger.

Just before they reached the classroom, Hermione stopped and turned to Ron. "Er, look, Ron—" she began awkwardly, but he cut her off.

"Don't, Hermione. Just don't." He muttered quietly, uncharacteristically avoiding a row.

"But I—"

"I don't want to hear it. I'm pretending, can't that be enough?" He stepped forward to hold the classroom door for her. "After you."

"Thank you," she said quietly, passing his outstretched arm. She hoped that he understood how much he was thanking him.

They did not speak as they took their usual seats. Professor McGonagall strode into the classroom, slowing slightly as she passed Ron and Hermione on either side of Harry's empty seat.

"Where is Mr. Potter?" she asked them quietly.

"Professor Lupin asked him to stay behind," Hermione offered tentatively.

"Very well." McGonagall eyed the symbolically empty space between Ron and Hermione suspiciously, but took her place in front of the class without further comment.

Hermione thought Professor McGonagall's tacit acceptance of Harry's absence to be strongly out of character for the strict woman, but let it go with her excitement of the day's lesson. Transfiguration was not her favorite subject—that title went to Arithmancy—but Professor McGonagall was her favorite instructor.

She looked to her left and wished there was a spell that could transform the sullen boy and the empty space beside her into her two best friends, somehow happy and content. Knowing this was a problem that not even magic could fix, Hermione sighed and, pulling out her parchment, quill, and ink, turned her full attention to Professor McGonagall's lesson.

~%%~

A/N: Yay! I got some real writing done!

Thanks to all my reviewers from the last chapter, and to everyone who didn't review but still sat patiently waiting for the update email!

The winner of my favorite review line from Chapter 10 came from gravacor (again!), who said: "I can't wait till Hermione can say basically f-you as she snogs Harry in front of everyone." Me neither!

Rock on, keep reading, and as always, review!

cj596