A/N: I changed my mind. I decided to upload this one chapter at a time, just to see the reactions to the story. I'm not giving ultimatums here since I'll upload anyway, i just want to know if people are actually reading this story.
Thanks,
Ellie.
Chapter One
Harry Potter stood up from the kitchen table of the apartment he shared with his two best friends of almost twelve years. He put the cup of coffee he had being staring in for the past half hour after his best female friend, Hermione Granger had claimed she was going to bed, in the sink and rinsed it. Harry had chosen not to antagonize her because he knew that she was only going up to stare at her ceiling and probably cry-or not. No matter how tough the situation was, he had never known his Hermione to cry. Well yeah, his Hermione, he had long since given up trying to pretend he wasn’t overly protective of her or that he didn't care about her. She was his best friend after all.
But there were times like this when he wished he could snap the neck of any guy that hurt her without ending up in Azkaban or whatever punishment the Ministry gave for murder. Just like the one that broke her heart that night. Again. Just another one in a long line.
Sometimes he wondered why guys bothered, if they didn't want a girl, they didn't propose marriage. Especially not to a girl as clever as Hermione, who had two well-built Quidditch players as best friends (one of them ex-boyfriend), and now flat mates, and who very well didn't deserve to have her heart broken by some guy who didn't have the brains to even come up with a reasonable excuse. They were all lucky Hermione was a very logical person not ruled by hormones or feelings; else she would have hexed them all into smithereens. Unluckily for them however, he didn't stake too much on logic and for a few times now, both he and Ron—on Ron’s advice (though he didn't really oppose it)-had gone on what they preferred to refer to as ‘teaching late-night lessons.’ He could only hope Hermione never found out; else, they would both be at the receiving end of one of her brilliantly positioned curses regardless of the fact that they had been doing it for her.
Harry had liked only one of Hermione’s fiancées but that changed when they discovered that he was very much indeed like that ape, Malfoy. He had even had the guts to call her a mudblood in the heat of the moment when her best friends were within hearing distance. Ron had been red in the face and was prepared to punch the living daylights out of him, but Harry had restrained him because he didn't want Hermione to have to fight with them when she should be relying on them for strength.
Totally holed up in his thoughts, he didn't hear his best friend come up behind him. Ron thumped him on the back and asked, a bit sleepily, “What’re you doing, mate?”
He didn't wait for a reply as he opened the refrigerator and brought out a bottle of orange juice. He poured a cup for himself and then looked at Harry, “What happened?” He asked concern evident in his features. Though he was still slow, it wasn’t as bad as it had been during their Hogwarts days.
“Hermione is home.” Harry replied simply.
“Don’t tell me it happened again.” Ron groaned.
“It did.”
“Oh no, it didn’t. That son of a bitch. I’m bursting his balls.” Ron shouted with anger as the last bits of his sleepiness faded away.
Harry said nothing. Ron calmed down a bit and when he talked, he was visibly subdued.
“How many times now?” Ron asked with a bit of contempt in his voice.
“Ron!” Harry cautioned.
“Sorry mate.” He dragged his hand through his red hair. “It’s just… never mind.” He paused again, then replied evidently frustrated. “I knew it.”
“I did, too, Harry admonished, ever the sensible one (though, his sensible nature wasn’t obvious when a person got on his bad side), “but you can’t go around telling that to her, she’s upset enough right now.”
“I completely understand.” Ron assured him.
Well, that’s an improvement on the state of affairs of Ron’s perceptiveness, Harry thought. They were silent for a while, each weighing the implication of the situation an gauging their own reactions to it. At last, Harry broke the silence.
“I’m so angry, I feel like punching something, or someone.” Harry exclaimed.
‘I know how you feel.”
“I’m thinking of putting her on a leash of some sort, and ensuring that any guy who comes within ten feet of her regrets the day he was born.” Harry stated vehemently.
Ron knew better so he said, “You know what she would say to that. She’s a big girl now, most definitely, she can take care of herself. She will get through this like she has on so many occasions.”
“I just wish she’d tell me why they keep doing it. Whenever I ask her, she says I shouldn’t worry because it’s an insane thought.” Harry thought for a moment then spoke, “But whatever it is they are telling her, I think she’s starting to believe it herself.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Ron asked stupidly.
Oh Ron! Harry thought again, grow up. Harry glared at his red-haired friend in reply and Ron surrendered.
“Okay.” Ron said, “So it’s a bad thing. What do we do now?”
“I don’t know?”
“How about we go bust some balls, you know.” Ron said hopefully.
“No.” Harry said
“No late-night lessons?”
“It’s not solving anything. I think prevention is better than cure.”
“Hermione isn’t going to let you do anything that curtails her independence.” Ron told him and then yawned sleepily.
‘Whatever.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mate. Got a big day tomorrow. Quidditch practice with the Chudley cannons, what with the championships coming up. In fact, right now, I think I’ll drop right here on the kitchen floor if I stand up much longer.”
Harry smiled. “I know about it all, a Weasley never jokes with his food and his sleep.”
”You got it all right, ‘Arry.” Ron said again, but this time his speech was becoming slurred by sleep.
“Good night.”
Ron ambled out of the room and back into the bed he came from minutes ago.
Harry shook his head at his friend and went back to his thoughts. He was frustrated with being the one to always look at his distraught girlfriend every time she was heartbroken. Not that he minded comforting her, but the ease with which she accepted her situation was annoying. He didn't have anything to comfort because Hermione didn't really show emotion, all she did was come home, go into the kitchen and stare at the cup of tea he had painstakingly brewed for her until it turned cold and she felt sleepy. Harry, ever loyal, would be by her side waiting to see if she wanted to talk. Mostly, she just laughed and told him not to worry. But there had been those rare times when she had actually told him stuff, inconsequential stuff that he knew she was using to cover up her pain. There were times she would tell him it was a thing that girls experienced, or that it was a thing guys did all the time. It was always on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he had never broken a girl’s heart before, but his common sense prevailed all the time. He had promised to listen and that was what he did.
Even though she didn't let him in all the way, or at all, he sill waited.
What was most confusing was why she put herself through all of it. She was smarter than he was and probably smarter than any witch or wizard her age, and he wouldn’t submit himself to that kind of treatment from anybody. It was a question he was going to ask her the next time he talked seriously with her but for now he was going to let sleeping dogs lie.
No matter what Ron, or even Hermione said, guys were through messing with his best friend. He would make sure of it and he’d be damned if he allowed Hermione to hurt herself again.
