# Not Even Close

madscientist

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 15/11/2006
Last Updated: 15/11/2006
Status: Completed

A one shot set in a non Lions/Non-Circle universe. Harry is confronted by Ron about something that he has fought to hide. And that secret could change everything.

## 1. untitled

A/N: This is just a little one shot to keep my hand in. Ron isn't in the best of lights here, no particular reason, other than this one shot came out of a conversation with a friend. Thanks as usual to Lady Starlight for her work on his fic. As usual I own nothing really except the plot.
*************************Hogwarts******************************
Harry sighed as he looked out over the still-frozen grounds of the castle, and frowned, as he reached up and ran his hands through wind-tousled hair. He reached forward, gripping the parapet wall with hands clad in thin leather gloves. He sighed again, and reached up, brushing his fingers across a fresh cut, that was only barely scabbed over. He frowned as he looked down to find fresh blood glinting on the tips of his fingers in the moonlight that filtered through the scattered clouds that contributed large white flakes to the night.
Emerald eyes slipped closed, hiding the flicker of pain that crossed them at the thought of how he had received that injury. For the cut had not come from a Death Eater, not from Bellatrix, or Lucius, or Antonin, or even from his nemesis, Draco Malfoy, with whom he had shared a mutual animosity since he was eleven. The seventeen-year-old warrior he had become would have shrugged off such a wound from any of them, an utterly trivial cost for the war in which he had found himself.
The night had begun peacefully enough, for these times, anyway. He had been eating dinner with his best friends, sitting next to Hermione, and across from Ron. His attention, frankly, had been more on ignoring the random flushes of warmth that he had felt every time Hermione had leaned over to grab some food or make a point in their causal conversation, as her bare knee would brush his jeans, or her hand his arm. He had not, consciously, at the time, noticed the dark looks Ron would shoot him as Harry turned to say something to Hermione.
Harry had escaped to the Astronomy Tower soon after. He had not wanted to retaliate against the one he still, despite the invective that had spewed at him, or the fist that had crashed against his skull, after three simple words had come from Harry's lips in return, in explanation, considered his brother. No one came up here, not anymore, not after that dark night when Dumbledore had fallen from this very spot.
Of course that had been almost two years ago, before Harry had been handed this quest, before he had had to maim, to kill, to gamble the very lives and souls of those he held more dear than his own in a nearly globe-spanning effort to find the leavings of Tom Riddle. The man, who had effectively frozen Harry's life in a miasma of terror and tumult, and had forced him to drive his emotions deep inside, to hide his true feelings from those who knew him best...or at least he had tried.
His eyes opened as a faint scrape of wood on stone came from behind him, and his hands tightened on the stone. "Leave me alone, Ron," he said quietly, darkly, as he continued to hold in his magic lest he lash out uncontrollably. Harry took a breath as the door shut quietly behind him, and he stiffened as he heard the sucking sound of a Colloportus on the door. "Don't...just leave..."
"I know that I'm not that fanciable, Harry," a soft soprano replied, coming closer on soft, cat-like steps, "But I'd thought that you'd be the last one to confuse me with Ron."
Harry spun, finding Hermione looking back at him from a few feet away. He swallowed slightly at the sight, large white flakes dotted her hair, and hung on long lashes. She held a Muggle winter coat around her, burying her hands in the pockets and bounced slightly on her feet as she looked up at him, nibbling absently on her lower lip. Harry took a breath, and Hermione closed her eyes as Harry's magic washed over her as he let it out. Letting it loose from the restraints he had held it under since Ron had confronted him as soon as Hermione had left for the Library, and demanded to know when Harry had started to shag Hermione.
Ron had nearly died in that instant, even if he did not know it.
"I'm sorry," Harry replied after another moment, watching as occasional flakes decorated her hair. "I didn't...I mean you are...very fanciable that is..."
"What's wrong, Harry," she said, waving off his apology, even as she smiled at him for making it. "I thought that you were going to join me in the Library, I found a fascinating book on binding rituals, I thought that..." Her eyes narrowed slightly, "Where is Ron, he was supposed to be working on his field Transfiguration, he never did pass his NEWT properly."
"I don't know, Hermione," Harry replied softly and turned from her, to look back over the parapet. He regripped the edge, "You had better ask him."
Hermione frowned, and stepped to his side. She reached out and a small hand grabbed at his sleeve, he looked down at her almost involuntarily, "I'm asking you, Harry." Harry took a breath, stepping back from her, and shaking off her hand. He looked away, and she cocked her head slightly, "Harry..."
"We had words, Hermione," he finally answered, reaching up and annoyed, brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.
"What about?" she replied, softly, and Harry shrugged, sighing. His stomach let out a soft growl; he had skipped most of dinner. He reached into a pocket, and found half of a chocolate bar and broke off part and bit in. He extended the bar to her, waiting as she took a bit, more from the fact that he offered it, than she actually was hungry. Hermione nibbled at the piece of the bar that Harry had taken to carrying on him because more often than not because she had forgotten to eat again, and looked back up at him. "Thank you, Harry," she muttered and he just nodded.
Hermione nibbled on the bit of chocolate bar a bit more, she swallowed, "What about, Harry?"
"Nothing, Hermione," he looked fixedly towards the grounds, "It was nothing."
Hermione bit her lip, and fell silent. She took a breath; half knowing that she did not really want to know what Harry was trying to protect her from. "Harry James, what was it about?" Harry shook his head, and she reached over, and grabbed his arm, pulling him enough to face her, knowing that he would not, could not lie to her face. "I am going to find out, I know something is wrong..."
Harry watched her eyes for a moment, "Ron was...mistaken about something..." he said as he dropped his gaze from hers. He watched as his gloved fingers tapped the grey stone parapet, a soft glow lit his hands as his grasp tightened on the stone, magic coming to his call as it had since the night of his seventeenth birthday. He had tossed Dudley across a room, pulling him off a protesting Hermione who had been in Privet Drive only to pick up Harry, to rescue him from his tormentors.
A smaller, bare hand reached down, pushing through the magic, like no one else on the planet could do, and rested on top of his. Her fingers slowly interlaced with his as her other hand reached up, lifting his chin up, until a pair of emerald eyes held hers. "What did he say, Harry?"
A faint spark of light might have passed between them, probably a remnant of the magic of the two most powerful magic users in the castle, who had been paired together in classes almost exclusively in that abortive seventh year, because they were the only ones whose magic synchronized with the other. "He...asked...when I...we had started to...shag..."
Hermione took a sharp breath, but did not move from him. Her hand shook slightly where it was interlaced with his. "W...why did he ask that?"
Harry shrugged, "It doesn't matter, a stupid misunderstanding, I need to go to bed, Hermione, it'll all blow over in the morning." Harry pulled away from her and walked towards the door.
"What if it wasn't a misunderstanding," Hermione shot after him, after he had moved halfway across the rooftop. Harry froze, feeling her approach as she took several steps towards him. He turned slowly, a torrent of emotions flittering like hummingbirds across his eyes, fear, hope...And dear, God...can it be...oh please... "What if it was just..." she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, "How do you feel about me, Harry?" She saw something in his gaze, "Really, Harry."
"It can't happen, Hermione."
"Why not?" Harry shook his head. "Why not, Harry?" she asked again, her hands fell to her hips, as she stared across the ten or so feet to him. A flicker of light lit two sets of eyes, as she waited for an answer; then shook her head forcefully, "Would you like me to say then? Because of Ron and his fucking jealousy?" Harry's eyes widened, not at the profanity, Hermione was not nearly as innocent as many would believe, but that she knew. "Or because that you are afraid that Voldemort will hurt me to get to you?"
"Yes," he replied, blinking quickly even as she took another step towards him, "Yes, and yes...and I don't deserve...Listen, Hermione, can we just forget this ever happened, I just couldn't stand to lose you, I need you...Merlin, I need you," he added almost silently.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed and flitted across the several feet to him, crashing hard enough into his chest to send him staggering back several paces as her arms tightened around his ribs. Hermione buried her face in the half-open front of his jacket, burrowing with her nose until she reached the soft surface of a grey sweatshirt underneath. "Ron can piss off," she said, her voice muffled by the layers of clothes and his chest, "if he can't see that he and I are done...that we never really had anything anyway, that our hormones had taken over our brains..."
"I could get you killed, Hermione."
"I could get hit by the Knight Bus as I step off the curb," she almost laughed, a dark and bitter laugh, suited to the times, "God and Merlin will not drag me from you, Harry, I will be damned if a half-arsed, sodding little pis-ant like Tom Riddle will." Harry pulled back slightly, bending his upper back back enough to find her gaze as she looked up at him from the circle of his arms. "And I seriously doubt that you could screw up enough to drive me away, God knows you've tried, so don't even think about trying to leave without me, Harry James Potter, you are never going to go another day without seeing me again, not another hour if I can help it, so get used to it. Understand?" Despite himself, Harry nodded, and Hermione grinned, lowering her face back to his chest and tightening her hug once more, "Take us back to our rooms, Harry, it's getting cold up here."
Hermione's breath vanished as she felt herself being squeezed through a bottle, then through a rapid right-hand jag at the end, the difference in passing through the Hogwarts wards, verses the almost inconsequential feeling of Apparation, as it was these days.
They appeared in the midst of a large, well-appointed common room, the same common room that her and Harry had shared since the start of their abortive seventh year, last year when they had started the school year as Heads. Hermione looked around the room as they arrived, finding her Familiar greeting her with an ivory-fanged yawn. She stepped away from Harry and petted Crookshanks' orange head for a minute, as she came to a decision that had been percolating since she had heard, partially, the reason for the fight that Parvati and Lavender had came and found her about, almost two hours ago now. She had taken one hour with a walk about the snowy grounds to settle her nerves before she went to find Harry, for Parvati had heard what Harry had said, even if he had yet to say it to Hermione in person. "Harry...wait here, I'll be right back"
Hermione walked into her bedroom, closed the door, and dropped onto her bed. Her hands dropped to her face for an instant, before she smiled a faint, wry smile and stood, dropping her coat to the floor next to her bed. She bent double and unlaced her boots, kicked off her socks, and with one quick jerk, pulled off her jumper. It's now or never...
Ten minutes later, just as Harry was starting to get worried, and half rose out of his seat on the couch to go and check on her, Hermione slipped out of her bedroom, and his heart stopped.
It started beating as she caught his eyes from across the room; hers were huge in her face, with her hair pulled back into a messy tail, exposing her ears, which were set with the emerald studs he had given her for her eighteenth birthday. He had purchased them after she had fallen in love with them at a shop while they were shopping for a wedding present for Bill and Fleur. Hermione had refused to buy them, saying they were way too much for her to afford. It had only taken Harry about an hour to find enough time to slip away for a moment, call his Familiar, and send Hedwig on her way with a note and Gringotts' voucher.
A thin, emerald-green silk chemise covered her torso, falling to the tops of her bare thighs, and flared slightly as she walked. She almost smiled as she watched his eyes desperately focus on hers, "Harry, I wouldn't have changed if I didn't want you to look," she said, trembling slightly even as she spoke. She waved him back to his seat as she walked around the couch. She sat down on the couch next to him, kneeling on the seat next to him. She started to reach for him, before she folded her hands on her lap. She looked down at her lap, pulling slightly at the hem of her top, before she snorted and looked up at him. "Don't know why I'm nervous...its not like I'm a..."
"I sure as hell am," Harry interjected.
"I don't know why," Hermione replied, even as a part of her was dissecting the fact that she was relatively comfortable, a touch cold, but comfortable even dressed as she was. "Ginny always said you were rather good-she talked about it all the time," Hermione added lowly.
Harry reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling them off her lap and holding them in his own, "Probably because this isn't a fling...I always knew that it wouldn't last with Ginny."
"You sure shagged her at every opportunity," Hermione retorted; then a horrified look filled her eyes as she realized that she had said that out loud. "Oh, Merlin, Harry, I'm-"
"You're right, Hermione," Harry shrugged, "I did. I should have stuck to my wands and not ever let her talk me into getting back with her, even if we did end up coming back here. I ah...just didn't want to be alone..." Hermione gnawed on her lip a moment, before she scooted closer to him, almost, but not quite, crawling into his lap.
"I had started going out with Ron by then, hadn't I?" she asked rhetorically. Harry nodded, and she closed her eyes, dropping her head as tears pooled in the corners. She pulled one hand from his, and swiped at her eyes, before she looked up at him. She took a breath, "I bought this outfit the day after you gave me these," she brushed a hand across her left ear. "I hardly ever wore them around Ron, I never really thought about it, but he always seemed annoyed when I did." She looked down and fingered the green silk, absently noting that his hands were trembling in hers, and any space that might have existed between them gone as her knees were brushing his thigh. She let her free hand fall to his leg, tracing the weave of the fabric, her nails making soft noises against the grain before she finally looked back up. "I never really thought why I bought this thing," she went on, "only that it seemed...appropriate. Ron found it in my closet one day, asked me why I never wore it for him, I couldn't answer him. Just brushed off the question and snogged him."
"I'm glad that you never wore it for him," Harry smirked, and reached up slowly, pushing a loose strand of curls behind her ear. "You look gorgeous-"
"You're just saying that because-"
"Because it's true, Hermione," Harry cut her off. He let go of her hands, and without any apparent effort, he lifted her into his lap, both of them fell abrupt silent, as she slowly let her legs straddle his lap, sinking down until she felt the weave of his jeans against her legs. She watched as his eyes darkened, becoming almost black, before they lit from the outside in. A rush of magic filled her, and her hair came alive as she brought her hands to rest flat on his chest. A small, pink tongue slipped out, licking her lips. She rocked forward slightly on his lap, and murmured something as she felt him react to her through his jeans.
"Really?" she asked, her voice still holding a bare trace of disbelief, "No one has...Ron never..."
"Ron was an idiot, Hermione," he replied, leaning forward enough to kiss her forehead, brushing aside her bangs with his nose, to lightly brush his lips across her forehead, the exact same spot that. if it had been him, would have held his jagged scar. "You are the most beautiful girl...woman in all of England...very possibly the world."
She blushed, "You're biased, Harry...but thank you," she said repeating his gesture, allowing her lips to remain on his scar for a long instant, her heart speeding up as she felt a warm rush flush down her, pooling in her belly. She let her head fall, resting her forehead on his. Distantly, she knew that her hair was floating behind her, and magic sparkled along her fingertips on Harry's chest, and on his, where they still cradled her hips.
Hermione took a breath, her head slowly canting to one side, eyes slipping half closed. She felt one of Harry's hands come up, his fingers cradling the back of her head as she fell towards him.... "BLOODY HELL," a voice cracked across the still room. Hermione jumped and spun, almost falling from Harry's lap, only keeping from crashing to the floor, by his hands. The door slammed behind Ron as he stepped into the room, his eyes blazing.
Crookshanks ran between him and the pair on the couch, interspacing between the interloper and his mistress. A loud hiss came from between bared fangs as his hair stood on end, easily doubling or tripling his size. Yellow eyes seemed to light from within as Ron paused, and looked down, "Get out of my way, you bloody cat..." he took a step, his right foot came back slightly...Hermione's hand flashed, and Ron bounced off an invisible wall, sending him tumbling backward to fall to his bum.
"Don't you ever try that again," Hermione growled dangerously. She felt Ron's eyes on her, and her hand reached back, pulling her nightie lower, covering up her mostly bare bum where it was visible to his eyes.
"You are the one who..."
"Last time, I knew," Harry said darkly, his hands tightening on Hermione's hips until she flinched slightly; he let loose immediately and took a breath, "politeness deemed that one knocked before entering a closed door."
"Well, last I knew one didn't shag one's other friend behind..." Ron sputtered,
"Nothing has happened, Ronald," Hermione spat, and just for an instant, she almost smiled as Harry's eyes flicked downward, watching her chest as her breathing deepened. "I would thank you if you would leave so it could."
"You...you...Scarlet Woman," he snapped, scrambling to his feet. He brushed past Crookshanks before the familiar could intercede again, and stopped to loom over Harry and Hermione on the couch. "I should have known, I was never good enough for you, was I, it was always, Harry this, Harry that-"
Very, very slowly, like a great cat uncurling from a crouch, Harry lifted Hermione to her feet and stood. Glittering eyes peered out from behind a half-concealing curtain of inky hair, boring a hole into Ron's very soul. Ron stood his ground, too brave, or too foolish to run, as Harry gently set Hermione to his side, he felt her hand slip into his, "Leave, Ron," Harry said very, very quietly.
"So you two can...She's a tease, Harry, she'll just drop you as soon as someone else comes along." Ron caught sight of the earrings, "Though I suppose that not all of us have your charms, she always did like a touch of fame." Hermione's hand tightened on Harry's squeezing painfully. Ron's eyes panned down, "I suppose that you'll get tired of her after a few nights of her just lying there. I don't know why you dropped Ginny, from what we overheard, she was much more...fun."
Hermione let go of Harry's hand as she felt the magic rushing past her, filling Harry and spilling over to her, even as she drew on her own reserves. Her outline blurred faintly as she darted forward, twisted and...her hand snapped up and back, sending Ron crashing back against the wall. A distant corner of her mind wondered if she had subconsciously kept back enough to keep from killing him. "Maybe it was because I'm not sure that I ever really wanted to sleep with your unfeeling arse," she snapped, "Maybe if you had done a touch more than pulling me into a convenient broom closet for a quick shag I might have actually cared enough to maybe work at it."
Ron crawled to his feet, glaring, "If I remember correctly, that first night was your idea...we had just heard Lord Gryffindor here and Ginny going at it out behind the Burrow..."
"Hermione," Harry said softly, as she looked back at him. She slowly shook her head at him, gave him a faint, tight smile.
"Just tell me one thing, Harry," she asked, ignoring Ron as he continued to stand behind her, "Do you love her...or me?" the hopeful note on the end did not fail to reach anyone in the room. Even Crookshanks paused in his low hissing to look at Harry, expectantly.
Hermione could read the reluctance in his eyes, at saying the words that had been associated only with sadness in his life. She almost pulled back the request, to say that it did not matter, even though it did more than anything, when he locked his gaze with hers, "You, Merlin help me, it's always been you."
Behind him, Ron growled under his breath, he glared at Harry, "So you were what, biding your time, thought you let me think you could have her before you took her out from under me? Shagging my sister on the side to pass the time?"
Harry froze, the latter being uncomfortably close to the truth. Ron smirked very slightly, as he recognized that the jab had struck home. He opened his mouth to follow up but froze as Hermione spun, and he stopped, his mouth open without a sound spilling from it, as she advanced on him, and stopped, within easy reach. Ron took a step back, suddenly intimidated by the slight girl standing in front of him, a foot shorter and half-naked...and more powerful than him by at least an order of magnitude. He watched as her eyes lit from within, and her hair started to float. "Ronald Bilius Weasley," she snapped, her words echoing oddly in the room, "shut up."
She took a breath, and dropped both of her hands onto her hips. "I am tired of this shyte... I had hoped that you could have been an adult, that you would have moved on by now, it has been almost a year, Ron..."
"So you go on with Harry, that's what you wanted all along, I bet, what'd you do, sneak in, whisper in his ear until he broke up with Ginny?"
Hermione glanced back, as Harry growled faintly and started to move towards her, she shook her head and he approached much slower, stopping a pace or two behind her. "No, I never said a bloody word to him about her, not matter what I might have thought about it, no matter how many times she insisted on telling me all about it. No matter how many times she screwed around on him," Hermione stopped suddenly, and looked back, finding instead of the broken look she expected, tired acceptance. "You knew..."
"Yeah, though not at the time." Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure that it'd have mattered really," he added absently.
"So what," Ron shot back, drawing her attention back to him, reluctantly away from Harry, "You are accusing my sister of being a slag, is that it?"
"If the cloak fits," Hermione snapped, and turned her back at him, going back to Harry. She only saw Harry's eyes widen as Ron took a quick step towards her, Harry's hand flashed and Ron shot up in the air to hang from an invisible string tied around his ankles. Ron struggled in the air, as Harry's eyes seemed to narrow, focusing on him alone, and Harry took a slow step forward as he clenched his fist and Ron began to spin in the air, faster and faster. Hermione gasped as she looked back and dove at Harry, flinging her arms around him. He staggered back, and blinked.
Ron fell from the air with a loud clatter as the spell vanished. He scrambled back to his feet and hurriedly drew his wand, pointing it at Harry. Hermione spun, interposing herself between the two, "Put that away, Ronald," she growled, pressing back against Harry, knowing that the only thing stopping him, was that fact that it was her holding him back.
"Or what, I don't see a wand in either one of your hands, somehow I doubt that you have yours on you right now."
"Or Harry will be the least of your problems," she said dangerously, "If the end of that wand so much as glows I will put you under this castle." She gestured towards the door, it flew open. "Leave-right the bloody hell now-or you are going to find out if I really need my wand or not." Slowly, at something he found in her gaze, Ron backed from the room, his wand still trained towards Harry.
Hermione made no visible gesture, but the heavy door slammed shut, sealing with a loud squishing sound. She spun, already sobbing, as Harry pulled her against him, and walked both of them back to the couch. Harry slowly sank down onto the seat, murmuring soft nonsense as Hermione curled up in his lap, tucking her head against his chest. He dropped his lips to the top of her head, holding them there as she cried, starting to soak into his shirt.
He waited as she sniffed a moment, before sitting up somewhat, enough to look at him properly. "I just want to go to bed, Harry," she whispered, leaning back into his hand as it ran almost absently through her hair. "I'm sorry, Harry," she added as he nodded.
"It's alright, I understand," Harry replied, gently setting her on her feet, "I...I guess, we'll talk...in the morning." He watched as she walked towards her bedroom door, Crookshanks at her heels, providing a ginger sentinel against any further ill intent towards his mistress. He padded ahead of her as she stopped at the door to her bedroom, and looked up, watching as her fingers tapped on the doorjam for a moment.
She looked back, "You do know that I love you too, right, Harry?" He swallowed heavily and nodded. "Good," she smiled faintly, and wiped at the tears that still occasionally slipped down her face, leaving glistening tracks that caught the light from the fire in the grate. "I don't really want to be alone tonight, Harry." She gave him one last, small smile and slipped into her room, leaving the door ajar just enough for him to watch as the light from within faded, as she put out the candles lighting her dresser.
Harry stood from the couch and paced over to the window. He stood there for a minute or five, watching as a flight of owls circled the Headmistress' Tower. A soft, insistent, "Meow," pulled his gaze downward to find Crookshanks looking up at him, his tail whipping from side to side slowly. The feline cocked his head to the side, and stared at Harry, and meowed again, before butting his head against Harry's leg. Harry knelt down in front of the cat, scratching him behind his ears, "Of course I'm coming, Crooks, do you think I'm that daft?" Crookshanks gave him a look that amply expressed his lack of faith in any human's, except for Hermione's that is, inherent intelligence.
Harry snorted as Crookshanks turned, his tail high in the air and marched back into Hermione's room, passing through the cracked door without touching either side of the opening. Harry watched as a pair of yellow eyes looked back at him from about a foot from the floor, and he shook his head, drew his wand from a thigh pocket sown into his jeans and flicked it at his jeans, changing them into a pair of grey flannel pants covered in small brooms. He quickly shucked his sweatshirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, leaving him in a t-shirt, and followed Crookshanks.
He slipped into the room, finding a pair of faintly-glowing golden eyes looking out at him from the darkness, and as his eyes adjusted, a pair of much darker ones, looking towards him from several feet higher on the bed. Hermione did not say a word as he crawled into bed next to her, slipping under the red and gold quilt from a mother that she had not seen, in person, in almost two years. Hermione remained silent, as she slowly moved over, crawling half on top of him and settling her head under his chin.
Harry remained awake, waiting as he felt her drift off, before he tightened his arm around her slightly and closed his eyes.
A/N: There you go, I know Ron didn't look the greatest here, but I'll make it up to him in other fics, as I already have and will again. Now a request...Is there anyone out there that might be willing to do fanart for either the Lions or the Circle's End universe? I would dearly love it, if someone could see their way to sketching something. Anyway, I am hoping to get a chapter of Shadows up this week and just so you know, I have other, projects under way...
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