The rain was heavy, the air cold and unsettling. The weather, although intense, was not going to stop him from flying. A swift breeze blew right through the change room causing shivers to shoot down his spine. Standing in the doorway, broomstick in hand, he glared towards the hoops at the opposite end of the Quidditch pitch.

Running crazily to the centre of the field, slip sliding on the way, he finally mounted his broom and kicked hard off the muddy ground. He soared high into the air, zipping around the field as fast as his broom would carry him. Looping, swooping, diving, he felt free. It was only when his fingers became numb and his robes were soaked through that he descended slowly to the ground.

Re-entering the change room, he grabbed a towel from the rack and began roughly drying his hair. Exhausted, he threw down the towel and dropped onto the bench to remove his muddy shoes.

“Hey, Ron” said Ginny raising her eyebrows at Rons now spiked hair.

Ron jumped at the sudden intrusion. After all, he didn’t expect anyone to be in the change room on such a gloomy evening. Rain was thrashing against the windows and a sudden loud clap of thunder cracked like a whip across the sky. It was days like these that made Ron feel miserable. He had hoped that flying would ease the pressure of his grief, and for moments it had, but as he thought about heading back up to the castle the feeling of relief faded.

Realising that he had completely ignored his sister and becoming curious as to why she was there in the first place, Ron turned to her to ask, “What are you doing down here anyway?”

Ginny examined the ground and spoke quietly.

“I come here to get away from the crowd, when I need to think. It seems stupid but I still get visions of that night you know. I just need to be alone sometimes.”

Without knowing it Ginny had described exactly how Ron felt, he too just needed to be alone sometimes. The day had made its transition to night very quickly over the time Ron had been away from the castle. Ron could barely see Ginny standing across the room. Another clap of thunder sounded and a flash of lightning lit up the room, revealing Ginny’s solemn expression. Tears were sliding quietly and effortlessly down her freckled cheek, mimicking the drops of rain on the foggy windows.

Ron couldn’t bear to see his little sister cry. In all honesty the situation was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he opted to give her a kind of awkward pat on the back.

“It’s ok, it’s in the past, everything will be ok,” he said, hoping she would believe him and stop crying all over his already soaked robes.

As Ginny wept silently into his shoulder Ron couldn’t help but feel defenceless. How could he expect Ginny to believe him when he didn’t believe himself? They had lost Sirius, and he had been close to losing her, his friends, not to mention his sister, and now that everyone knew Voldemort had returned it was bound to get worse.

“We should head back to the common room. Dean will be wondering where I am, and it’s getting late,” said Ginny, as if suddenly realising that she was being ridiculous and it was not the time to be having a breakdown in the Gryffindor change room.

Ron nodded with relief; however he did not feel like re-entering the crowded atmosphere, but he knew he could not hide out for much longer.

Ginny left the room and Ron could see her running towards the shelter, trying to dodge the rain. He finished getting changed, pulled his hood over his head and ran towards the castle, his cloak flapping wildly behind him.

The subject of the incident at the Ministry of Magic had not crossed Ron’s mind since it happened. He had shut it out; the memory of it was too painful. Seeing Ginny breakdown like that had jolted his mind.

The route to the common room was empty, not even Filch was lurking about. As Ron ascended the stairs each step echoed off the stony walls. All Ron could think about was You-Know-Who. He felt sick knowing that his best friend Harry would undoubtedly play a significant part in the battle against him and his followers. He also knew that no matter what dangers lay ahead, he would be by Harry’s side fighting with him, and he knew Hermione would too. Hermione, what would he do?

Ron had another sinking feeling, but this time it was because he had been so distracted that he had totally forgotten about the trick step and his left leg was now trapped knee deep. Frustrated, he yanked as hard as he could, but his leg did not budge. He was about to give up when he heard footsteps approaching. It was not past curfew, but he did not want to deal with Filch right at that moment anyway.

The sound of steps was getting louder, the thunder roaring outside, and soon the owner of the footsteps would see him stranded on the stairs.

“Ron, what are you doing?” questioned Hermione. “I have been looking for you, dinner finished awhile ago and I wanted to see if you’d finished your potions homework.”

Ron didn’t think he could handle it. The smooth and half serious tone of her voice absorbed into his very skin and her smile, that smile made him sweat with nervousness. She was moving closer and his heart was racing. Why did he have to be stuck on these stairs, he was too emotional, he had to run, to hide.

Lightning struck outside once more and the eerie flicker of light across Hermione’s face reminded him of the moment with Ginny. His heart sank, she was right in front him, he could smell her in the air around him, and he could not help but remember how close he had come to losing her.

Hermione grabbed his damp sleeve and pulled on his arm as hard as she could. Ron felt his leg pulling free of the step, but Hermione had lost balance and was falling backwards, dragging him with her.

The two of them landed at the foot of the staircase. Hermione couldn’t breathe as Ron had landed directly on top of her. He immediately shifted his weight from her and opened his mouth to apologise but nothing came out.

With his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest he stared into her bottomless brown eyes and without thinking moved in to kiss her soft lips. It was the strangest and most wonderful thing he had ever felt and when he finally pulled away gasping for breath, he realised what he had just done.

Hermione was at a loss for words and just sat bewildered on the stone cold floor. Thoughts were racing around in Ron’s head. What had he done? What should he do now? All Ron could manage to say was a choked “sorry” before he sprang to his feet and ran as fast as he could to his dorm, leaving Hermione staring, mouth gaped, behind him.

When Ron finally reached his dorm he ignored all greeting from Harry, all expression on Neville’s face, threw himself onto his bed and drew the curtains. He knew Harry would not ask questions if he just lay quiet and that’s what he did. Hours passed and Ron still lay awake panicked about the situation he had brought upon himself. What would Hermione say to him when he had to face her tomorrow? Why had he been so stupid leaving her in the deserted hall without explanation? All he knew was that tomorrow would be a long day and he just hoped he could live through it. With thoughts still whirling around his mind, more hours passed, the thunder subsided and Ron slowly drifted to sleep to the sound of light rain patting against the dorm window.

He sat staring over the frozen lake. Light wind swept through his messy hair causing a shiver to travel down his spine. He could see a few students ice skating, others could be heard in the distant surroundings, laughing, and messing about in the snow. The laughter both annoyed and confused him. How could anyone be so happy when he felt so miserable? Didn’t they understand that Lord Voldemort’s return could only bring pain and suffering? He picked up a small stone and threw it as hard as he could, watching it skid across the frictionless surface of the ice.

The chilled air was starting to turn his fingers numb but he didn’t care. He wished his heart would go numb. He wished the pain would go numb. As much as he wished that all his troubles would just go away, he knew they would not. As he sat rubbing his gloved hands together to keep warm, he thought about returning to the castle. His friends would be wondering where he was.

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked, as she appeared from behind the bush he was so cleverly hiding behind. “Do you want to be alone?”

Harry stared at the sky. The clouds were just as dark and thick as they had been in the storm last night. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to live the life of a normal teenage boy.

“I’ll head back, you know, leave you to think,” murmured Hermione.

The sound of her voice finally penetrated his thoughts. Harry jerked his head around to where Hermione was disappearing behind the bush and called out. “No, it’s okay. Do you want to sit with me?”

Hermione turned around and nodded. “Sure, I’d love to.”

The two of them sat in silence. Harry could see Hermione from the corner of his eye. She sat staring at the ground, deep in thought, absentmindedly tracing pictures in the snow. He wondered if she felt as alone as he did sometimes. She had not faced Lord Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic, but she had been by his side against the Death Eaters. In fact, Hermione and Ron had always been there for him. Even when she had made him angry, he knew deep down her actions were only because she was worried about him, because she cared about him.

The minutes ticked by in silence. Harry didn’t mind. Just the company was enough to comfort him. Half an hour passed and the sun started to go down. The sound of laughter was fading away as students were heading back to the castle for dinner.

“Should we head back and meet Ron for dinner?” Harry asked, secretly hoping Hermione wasn’t hungry.

Despite the cold he was glad to be alone, well not completely, but away from the crowd. For some reason he was also glad Ron wasn’t with them. At this thought Harry felt a kind of foreboding and glanced away in case Hermione could read what he was thinking.

“I’m not really hungry,” said Hermione, still glancing at the ground and if Harry hadn’t been looking the other way he would have noticed her flushed cheeks. Not because she necessarily wanted to be alone with Harry, but because she had been avoiding Ron all day.

Why do I feel like I’m betraying Ron? Harry pondered, his stomach beginning to feel ill. A few more silent minutes passed and his question was answered. Hermione had moved closer to him and had taken his hand in hers. Harry watched her lips move as shadows from the clouds above passed across her delicate face. He felt guilty because he knew how Ron felt about Hermione and he knew that what he felt right now was not just friendship. She was staring at him expectantly now, as if waiting for him to reply.

“Uh, what did you say? I blanked out for a second.”

Hermione once again wore the worried expression he knew so well. “I said if you want to talk about Sirius or anything at all I am here for you.”

Harry felt her squeeze his hand as she bowed her head and began to get to her feet. Her words had brought reality upon him. Before he could stop the words tumbling from his mouth he had said what had been eating slowly away at his insides since that night at the Ministry of Magic.

“It was my fault. He died because of me.”

Hermione sternly pulled Harry to his feet and stared him directly in the eye. “Do not ever say that it was your fault. Sirius died because of Voldemort! He died because people were too ignorant to believe your words of truth that he was innocent all along. He died because he was cooped up in that awful house too long, and he died bravely protecting you and fighting for what he believed was a world worth fighting for. Harry, Sirius would never want you to believe that his death was your fault!”

Harry hung on Hermione’s every word. He had known that Sirius would not want him to blame himself, but until now he had been unable to forgive himself for what had happened. He missed Sirius so much. He had been the only family Harry had left. He had felt so neglected all his life and the love Sirius had shown him, by supporting him, and wanting to be part of his life, had filled a void he hadn’t noticed he had. Now he was gone. Harry felt as if he was destined to be alone.

Hermione somehow knew what he was thinking. She had been watching his reaction to her outburst carefully. “Harry you aren’t alone. You have me…”

Harry looked into her eyes and realised just how endless they seemed. It was as if he could fall into them and he would never hit the bottom. Before she could say another word he had closed the gap between them. He tucked her now snow covered hair behind her ear and leant in to kiss her. It was brief, and their lips had barely touched, but nevertheless he could feel tingles run from his head to his toes. Warmth spread through his body as he slowly pulled back and opened his eyes.

A cool breeze swept over him instantly and the rush brought him back to reality. Hermione stood for a moment transfixed by what had just occurred. Then before Harry knew what was happening she was stepping backwards slowly.

“Harry, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

And with those words ringing in Harry’s ears she turned and ran towards the castle. Before Harry could even react he noticed Ron standing no more than ten metres behind where Hermione had once been. Words could not describe the anger etched into his face.

“Ron! I…” but Harry did not know what to say and even if he did Ron would not have listened for he had already begun to storm back to the castle.

What had he done? How did he get himself into this mess? He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t talk to Ron, not with the temper he was in now because of his betrayal. He couldn’t talk to Hermione, he had kissed her. She hadn’t been expecting it, he had just done it. Harry felt dizzy.

The wind picked up and was blowing sharply on his face. If he stayed outside much longer he would freeze. Finally finding legs to stand on, Harry ran as fast as he could to the castle and sprinted straight upstairs to his dorm. He wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t eat now.

When he reached his dorm and found that Ron was thankfully not there, he jumped on his bed and pulled the curtains around him. He needed to think. The past event was playing over and over through his mind, the kiss, Hermione running away, Ron seeing the whole thing. The images flashed through his mind over and over until Harry became so weary he fell asleep, not even the wild rattling of the snow covered window could wake him.

With each heavy step the snow seemed to grow thicker and deeper than before. The howling wind was blowing so violently it was surprising to be able to move without being blown away. Darkness had quickly descended upon the grounds of Hogwarts and black clouds threatened to steal the sunshine away forever more. It was as if the weather of the past two days had finally reached its peak to produce an almighty endless storm.





Panting and out of breath, Hermione hurled herself against the large wooden doors of the castle. They creaked open to reveal the familiar entrance to the Great Hall. Students could be heard chatting merrily, mixed with the sound of cutlery against plates. To Hermione the thought of being seated amongst fellow students as if all was normal seemed a distant and out of reach pleasure. For her, life was momentarily muddled.





Shaking the snow from her hair, she wondered where she could possibly go to think uninterrupted. The common room would be occupied and she couldn’t risk facing Lavender or Parvati in the girl’s dormitories. Pacing unintentionally in the corridor, she tried to think of a place where she couldn’t be found, and then it hit her, the Room of Requirement.





Her timing could not have been better because just as she passed through a nearby tapestry, a known shortcut to the seventh floor, she could have sworn that out of the corner of her eye she had seen Ron’s flaming red-haired head appear through the front doors. Without waiting for a verbal confirmation, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her until she finally reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.





With a stitch in her side, she stood staring at the stony wall screwing up her nose in concentration. The words immediately came to her. Pacing the corridor she chanted over and over, “I need a room that’s comfortable, to hide in, and to think.” On the third passing a wooden door appeared. Hermione hurried into the room and closed the door behind her with a “click”.





The room was appropriate. On her left there was a simple wooden desk with a stack of fresh parchment and writing supplies. To her right the wall was lined with books. Hermione suppressed the urge to grab the nearest one and lose herself within it. Instead she walked the few paces to the comfortable burgundy sofa, which was placed elegantly in front of a fireplace full of flames. Despite being small, the room was cosy and exactly the kind of atmosphere she would need to run the previous events over in her mind.





There was no escaping the truth. In the last forty eight hours two of her best friends had kissed her. The experience had been overwhelming, delightful even, but undeniably unexpected. Hermione buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples in concentration.





“Why can’t there be books with instructions on what to do in this kind of situation?” she spoke in frustration.





Hermione peered through her fingers and stared into the fire. Her brain knew exactly what she had to do. She just didn’t think she could do it. You have to choose. The simple words floated around in the forefront of her mind. Hermione knew what she felt. She was in love with Ron; she had been since their third year at Hogwarts. When he had kissed her the night before, it was as if an explosion of emotion had coursed throughout her entire body. After he had run off she had been so confused it had taken her ten minutes before she could pick herself up off the floor. The fact that he had left her there had made her awfully annoyed. It was only after she had taken a bath to calm down that she had settled with the fact that it was only because he was nervous. After all, he did say sorry. Hermione just couldn’t stay angry at Ron when all she could think about was how it felt to finally be kissed by him.





With Harry it was different. The kiss had been sweet and loving, just as Victor’s had been. But after kissing Ron she just knew she didn’t feel the same passion and desire as she did with him. Hermione loved Harry but she loved him like a brother. That was that.





Losing Sirius had been so hard on Harry, more so than everyone else. He had been moping around the castle since the start of the term. She couldn’t cope with seeing him in the condition he was in. He barely ate at meal times and he rarely spoke to anyone anymore. She had gone down to the lake to talk some sense into him. He had to know that Sirius’ death wasn’t his fault. He had to know he wasn’t alone. But she hadn’t had the chance to finish what she was saying. When it happened, when he had kissed her, she was going to say that he had his friends. He had her and Ron; they would be his friends forever.





At this point Hermione burst into tears. Would Ron and Harry always be friends after what had happened only minutes ago? She couldn’t let this whole ordeal come between them. Hermione wiped the tears from her face and with a look of anticipation mixed with fear she rose from the couch and marched towards the door. She had made up her mind and she was going to set the whole thing straight.

---

Hours later, Hermione crept down the staircase to the common room. She couldn’t sleep. The sound of the storm raging outside her dormitory window reminded her of how angry Ron had looked the last time she had seen him. It was not like she had meant for Harry to kiss her. But then she hadn’t meant to be kissed by Ron either.





As she headed towards the sofa by the fire, the clock perched on the wall behind her chimed one am. The common room looked different at this time of the morning. Even with the fire lit, the occasional flash of lightning made the room look eerie.





Hermione noted that the House Elves hadn’t been to clean the common room yet as scrunched up parchment and lolly wrappers still littered the floor. She briefly had the idea to creep upstairs and grab a few bobble hats to spread around but decided it was too risky to wake up the other girls. Besides she could always save the hats for Dobby’s birthday.





With her arithmancy textbook in hand, she sat curled up on the sofa and began to read, ‘Chapter 15: Complex Analysis of Numerals’. Just as she was about to finally doze off the sound of footsteps woke her up. Before she could react, Ron was standing in the doorway.





“Oh, it’s you,” he said grumpily before turning to head back up the stairs.





“Please Wait! I need to talk to you,” Hermione replied desperately.





It was now or never. She would just have to tell him about her discussion with Harry and then hopefully he would stop being a silly prat. But a loveable prat, she argued with herself.





Despite his obvious desire to leave, Ron turned back to face her, one eyebrow raised, waiting for her to continue.





Seeing his impatience, Hermione hurriedly began to explain, “I talked to Harry earlier and I told him that I love him… but only as a friend.”





Saying the words out loud brought the whole image back flashing through her mind. She had found Harry in the library of all places. He had been hiding from Ron. The minute he had realised she was there he had apologised.





“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen before. I don’t know what came over me. Ron is so angry at me and I don’t blame him. But I think I love you Hermione.”





All the words had rushed out of him as if he had been preparing what to say for hours. He had looked so sincere though and it had been hard to tell him the truth. Hermione had explained to him how she felt, that he was like a brother to her and that if he honestly thought about it, that he would realise that his love for her was probably the same. It didn’t seem like the truth had shocked him much. Finally, Hermione had made Harry promise that he let her talk to Ron before trying to apologise. Harry had agreed straight away and Hermione had felt as if there was hope for their friendship yet.





It had been hard for her to face Ron, despite how well her conversation had gone with Harry. This meant that before she could talk herself into searching for him, it was too late in the evening, everyone in the Gryffindor common room had gone to bed, so she resigned to the fact that she would have to speak to Ron the next day.





Now here she was, sitting in the common room at one thirty in the morning, determined to sort out this mess once and for all. A thousand butterflies were zooming around her stomach and she felt so ill that she thought for a moment she might have to run to the bathroom. If only she could tell Ron that she loved him. That she had loved him since their third year and that she would always love him. She could tell him that she loved the way his ears turned pink when he was embarrassed. She could tell him how she thought he looked gorgeous every time Gryffindor won a game of Quidditch, with his windswept hair, and his playful grin. She could tell him that right now what she wanted most in the world was for him to wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear that he loved her too.





All these thoughts whizzed through her mind so fast that Hermione barely realised what she was about to say. But despite what her heart was telling her to do, her brain was telling her loud and clear to do the opposite. The most logical way for Ron, Harry, and I to remain best friends is for me to tell Ron just that, that we are only friends. It was the biggest sacrifice she had ever made for her friendship, but she would do it.

---

Ron had moved into the room and positioned himself on a sofa across from Hermione. She had just told him that she only loved Harry as a friend. But what did this mean for them? Did this mean that she was choosing him over Harry? It would be a first, he thought spitefully.





He searched her eyes as if they held the truth. She was on the verge of tears. His anger disappeared almost immediately, miraculously. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked right at that moment, with the light of the fire flickering across her face. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t angry anymore, not even at Harry, and that everything could be normal again. Most of all he wanted to tell her that the thing he wanted most in the world was to wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear just how much he loved her. But before he could open his mouth to speak the words his heart was telling him to say, she spoke first.





“Ron, I’m so sorry. But I have to tell you that I love you …but just as my friend.”





He could hear his own heart break. Or maybe it was the thunder outside. He wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that if he couldn’t be with her, he wouldn’t be with anyone. He thought she loved him. The one kiss he had shared with her had been, for lack of a better word, perfect. He wasn’t sure how he was managing it but he knew that his expression was unreadable because she continued to speak as if unsure that he had heard her.





“I mean, you, Harry, and I…we are best friends. We will always be best friends. It would be ridiculous for us to fight over something like this.”





Well if she was lying, she was doing an excellent job at it and she was still talking.





“I mean, honestly, it was only a kiss.”





That was it. That was what she had to say about the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced in his entire life. The situation had become more awkward than he thought it could. He wanted to run upstairs and cry until he couldn’t cry anymore. But he couldn’t move. He was like a deer standing transfixed by the headlights of an oncoming truck, except that he felt like he had already been run over.





Hermione stood up and he felt her eyes sweep over him before she whispered “I’m sorry” once more. Finally, when she reached the stairs he felt his voice return to him. If he told her how he truly felt, it would upset Harry, and from what she had just told him he doubted it would change the way she felt. The only thing he knew for sure was that if he held his tongue he would protect their friendship. It would be the biggest sacrifice he had ever made for their friendship, but he would do it. With that one thought on his mind he stood up and called out to the one girl he knew he would love forever.





“Hermione, you’re right. It was only a kiss.”

---

With the words ringing in her ears, Hermione nodded and ran upstairs to her dorm. The minute she entered the room she threw herself onto her pillow and began to cry. She knew things would be better in the morning. She knew that Harry would apologise to Ron and that everything would be okay. But at that moment all she wanted to do was cry until she couldn’t cry anymore. A few hours passed and then she finally fell asleep to the sound of light rain patting against the window.