Complications

Chapter 8

"Hermione?"

I jump as Harry emerges from the crowd and enters the empty side-street. My hands go immediately to my cheeks to wipe away any evidence of my tears, but I'm too late. Harry is already giving me his concerned-older-brother look. I try to smile, but its wobbly and fake and just makes me want to cry again. I really don't want to explain why I'm crying all alone in an empty side-street, but I feel that that is the only thing that will grant me permission out of here.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry steps closer and places his hands on my shoulders. I stare intently at his left forearm.

"It's nothing." My attempt at a lie is pitiful and I know Harry sees right through it.

"I know you. You're not the kind of girl that cries over nothing." He pauses, maybe hoping I'll tell him something useful. I remain silent. "Hey. Look at me," he says gently. I force my eyes to meet his. It's not easy. "I hate seeing you like this. Please, tell me what happened. You know it'll make you feel better." He flashes me half a smile, but I can't return it. I try to think of a way to tell him what happened with Draco without revealing that it happened with Draco. I can barely remember how it started... Ron stalked off after our argument and Draco was just there.

Ron. Ron and I had a fight. It would be completely understandable if I was crying over that. I'm supposed to be in love with him.

"It's Ron," I murmur.

"Ron? Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head. "It's the other way around. I hurt him. I broke up with him."

"Hermione..." Harry pulls me to his chest as if he really is my brother and just holds me there. The tears are back, but there's no sniffling or shuddering gasps anymore; there's just silent tears rolling down my cheeks and the occasional sniff. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" I whimper against his shirt. "You're not the one who broke Ron's heart. You should have seen his face. He was so... angry. So hurt. I did that. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"You would have hurt him more if you lied to him," he says, repeating my own advice back to me. "It's better this way, now that the whole truth is out. You can both move on."

Move on. Is that what I'm doing, moving on? Is Draco merely my rebound, someone to use for a while until the pain goes away? Someone to distract me until I'm ready to face the consequences of my actions? I don't think I'd be this cut up about a single fight with him if he were my rebound. I think what I feel for Draco is more than mutual appreciation of good company.

I stop there. Any more diving into the depths of my soul and rummaging through my true feelings will surely bring up things I definitely do not want to think about, or even admit to myself. It's safer to just pretend that nothing ever happened between me and Draco. That way, there's no pain, no memories, no deep-and-meaningful conversations in the shed in my backyard. There's just Draco Malfoy, the boy everyone who isn't in Slytherin hates; and me, Hermione Granger, the goody-toe-shoes who wouldn't be caught dead with Mr Malfoy. The world as it should be.

I pull away from Harry, wiping the last of the tears from my face. "You know, Harry, you really are the best friend I've ever had." I manage a real smile this time albeit a small one. It feels strange on my face, like my muscles have already forgotten how to do it properly.

Harry returns it effortlessly. "And you, Hermione, are the second-greatest friend I've ever had. After Ron, of course," he adds, seeing my slightly-serious but mostly-joking confused expression. I whack his arm and he whacks me back. Usually this would result in laughter and more whacking, but I'm not in the mood. Harry can tell and he lets the moment go.