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.