1st July, 1995

Ron rolled his eyes as he watched Harry and Hermione blush and squirm. Honestly, it had been a week since that uncomfortable incident in which he had learned that his two best friends had kissed. Even though he had forgiven them both, they had not been completely at ease with each other since, never meeting each other's eyes. Whenever one entered a room, the other would find an excuse to leave.

That sunny afternoon, he was playing wizarding chess with Neville and concentrating on the game was becoming difficult, thanks to the awkward atmosphere created with the two of them.

"Give it a rest, guys," he snapped irritably, slamming a hand down on the table in front of him, causing the enchanted chess pieces to jump and shake their fists at him. "Get over it."

Hermione blushed and fidgeted, her hands in her lap. Harry merely looked embarrassed as he leaned against the back of Ron's chair.

Neville looked up from the pieces, frowning deeply. Nobody had told him anything and he was much too polite to pry into the private affairs of his friends. He focused his attention back on the pieces.

"Knight to E3." The round-faced boy leaned back in his chair with a satisfied air. "Checkmate."

"What?!" Ron gaped at the board, staring dumbly as his king took off his crown and tossed it at Neville's celebrating chessmen. "Oh, damn."

He shot an annoyed look at both Harry and Hermione. The implication was clear: it was their fault, their antics had distracted him from the game.

Neville got to his feet, stretching. "It's a beautiful day out, Harry, how about we go outside for a walk?"

Ron and Hermione looked surprised – since when did Neville go out for walks with Harry? – but Harry nodded, walking over to the portrait hole.

The two boys' footsteps echoed through the empty stone corridor. Most of the students, their parents terrified by Voldemort's return, had gone home early for the summer holidays. Only a few were left, waiting for the term to end, the day after the next.

When they were outside, Neville decided to break the silence, partly because he was curious about the whole affair, partly because grim Harry was creeping him out.

"Harry… just what happened between you and Hermione?"

The other boy exhaled, running his hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it, Neville."

"… I know that Hermione and you liked each other."

Harry's head snapped up, anger mixed with shock in his face. "How did you – "

"It's that obvious," I said simply. "I could see it in Hermione's and your eyes."

For one awful moment, Neville thought Harry was going to hit him. He was not expecting for him to cover his face with his hand, the picture of defeat.

Abruptly, a change came over Harry and he straightened up, his hand dropping to his side.

"You're wrong," he said flatly, looking away over the grounds at the Forbidden Forest. "There's nothing between Hermione and I."

Abject shock flashed across Neville's face. "But – "

Harry shot him a hard glare. "Hermione and I are just platonic best friends. Nothing else." He marched stiff-legged away from his classmate across the grass.

Neville knew better than to go after him as he watched the other boy leave. They had gone through the Department of Mysteries together and he knew that there was more to Harry than met the eye.

There was no question in Neville's mind about the relationship between him and Hermione, the transparent affection in their eyes was more than enough to indicate that they went beyond friends. Hermione's words came to the round-faced boy's mind: Harry and his 'saving-people thing'. It was all painfully evident now.

Harry cared too much about Hermione; that was why he was pushing her away from him. Neville remembered the raw anguish in Harry's face when that man was killed. He now knew it was Sirius Black, although the connection between him and his fellow Gryffindor was yet unclear to him. Harry had cared for Black, he could see it when the convict had died.

Harry's behaviour made perfect sense when Neville brought in the Black incident. He was afraid of losing her and kept her at arm's length for her safety. The decision was killing him, especially since Hermione returned his feelings.

Neville shook his head incredulously. "What a fine mess," he said aloud.

***************************************************************************************************************

27th August, 1995

After he had been thoroughly fed by Mrs. Weasley and had gone upstairs to rest. Harry encountered Crookshanks on the stairs.

"Hey, boy," he muttered, bending out to pet the massive animal. Much to his surprise, the cat hissed, his fur standing on end and backed away. Bemused, he watched the animal bound up the stairs.

"I guess Hermione's still angry with me." Exhaling, he climbed the stairs. Only now when he puffed did he realize how tired he was.

Standing at the end of the corridor was Hermione, wearing a dressing gown, a contented Crookshanks in her arms. She avoided his eyes decidedly as he approached.

"Hermione?" Harry was genuinely glad to see her; it had taken him a while to realize how happy she made him.

She tightened her lips and looked away. "Harry."

The coolness in her tone hurt him deeply.

Was it really worth it to push her away? Harry had ruined their friendship, all for the sake of her safety. Even if it cut his heart into a thousand shards, he'd do it all over again if it meant her happiness.

"It's late. Why aren't you asleep?"

She bit her lip, her absent stroking of Crookshanks coming to a halt. "I heard the commotion downstairs." Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath, finding him standing uncomfortably close.

Slowly, he reached out with his hand and pushed a lock of her hair from her face. "Get some rest," he murmured, his voice strangely tender. "Good night."

Before she could react, he was gone, the door of his bedroom closing with a click.

Strangely enough, Hermione had not minded it at all.