Harry went back to Gryffindor very late. Of his roommates, only Ron and Seamus were still in the common room. Ron intercepted him before he was halfway across the room and led him off into a corner.

"You and Hermione fight again, mate?"

"Yeah."

"She came back and went and hid in her room. Kicked Ginny out when Ginny tried to talk to her." Ron took a deep breath. "You didn't do anything to her, did you?"

"We just-- I said something she didn't like, that's all."

Ron's voice was low and warning. "About what?"

"Just--" Harry reddened. Ron was looking ready to hit him. "It's not your business, Ron!"

"If I find out you were pressuring her...."

Harry stared. "What?" He suddenly realized what Ron meant. "Oh, it wasn't that! It was all politics, and other stupid crap. I wouldn't--" He remembered how it felt, kissing Hermione, and imagined working his hands into her robes and pushing them out of the way. He caught his breath. "I mean, not if she didn't want--"

Ron nodded. "Good. I just wanted that clear."

"Then let me make it equally clear that I am insulted."

"Harry! She was so--" Ron stopped. "All right. I apologize. That was a horrible thing for me to think."

Harry nodded stiffly. "Forget it, then. I'm going to bed, now."

Harry skipped breakfast and Charms. He didn't dare skip Transfiguration, although Hermione was in it. She didn't look at him once during the lesson, and he could hardly bear to look at her. Professor McGonagall treated him unusually gently -- he didn't know whether she felt sorry for what she said the other night, or if it was just that she could see he was miserable.

He forced himself to eat lunch and felt, if not better, at least more capable for it. On consideration, he realized it was the first real meal he had eaten in a full day. He forced himself to think over what he had said the night before. He didn't think any of it had actually been offensive, except possibly for postulating that they might have children, but he could see why she would find the subject unnerving. It wasn't really what I meant to talk about. I shouldn't mention anything like that when I'm too upset to be clear. He sighed, and began to scan the Gryffindor table. When he located Hermione, he got to his feet and walked deliberately to the space across from her seat. She tensed, but didn't look up.

"Hermione? We need to talk."

Hermione turned as red as a Howler, and mashed her fork against her carrots.

"Hermione?"

"No."

"Look, I was tired, an--"

She jumped up, knocking over her pumpkin juice, and completely ignoring the spreading mess. "Go AWAY!"

He left.

By the end of the day, Hermione had clearly told a number of people that she had broken up with Harry, but she had not given them any details on why. Ginny asked outright, and Harry told her, equally plainly, that it was none of her sodding business. Lavender came up to Harry in the common room and scolded him for hurting Hermione's feelings.

"She won't tell anyone what you said, so it must be awful. I think you're a horrible boy to keep making her cry like that."

"And I think you're a brainless ninny to have such opinions on things you know nothing about."

Colin jumped to his feet. "Don't talk to her like that!" he shouted, turning red as he spoke. Harry stared at him. He had never wanted Colin's adulation, but he felt oddly betrayed by the boy's defense of Lavender -- as if he had been bitten by his own dog.

"Find a girl who likes you," he snapped. "Preferably one with a brain." He stormed upstairs before matters could escalate further.

Ron followed him in a moment later. Harry ignored him. Ron came and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, which made ignoring him harder, and rather silly. Harry continued to do it anyway.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

There was a long silence. "Look, Harry ... my two best friends are miserable. I can't help if I don't know what happened."

"I ... I said something, and she took it wrong, that's all. I don't want to go explaining to you what I said and what I meant. That's not going to help -- it's all just going to get more tangled. I want to tell her what I meant, what I was going to say if she hadn't run off on me, what mattered in what I said...." Harry sat up. "Could you get her to listen to me? Just for a few minutes? You can even be there, or Ginny can be, just ... I need to talk to her."

"Dunno if I can, mate ... but I'll try."

Ron was still trying at breakfast the next day. Harry didn't even attempt to sit near them, as this would clearly derail any progress Ron might be making. Colin was still snubbing him. Harry noticed his own amusement at this and tried to ignore the matching bewildered sense of loss. He told himself it was about time the kid grew up.

His sat with Teresa, who still adored him, and he felt rather pathetic for it. He managed to eat a reasonable breakfast, but was relieved to head down to the dungeons for Potions.

"So...." Draco looked significantly at Harry. Harry reddened and looked down at his mistletoe berries. Draco's voice was low and well-covered by Parvati and Terry's chatter. "I've been hearing some wild rumors."

"Wonderful. I love being gossiped about."

"Some people are even saying that you broke up with her because she's a Mudblood."

"I didn't break up with her!" Harry snarled under his breath.

"So what happened?"

"I didn't-- I don't mind that she's Muggle born! I was just saying I wouldn't know how to raise a squib. I'm not comfortable in the Muggle world, really. I was never allowed to do anything there. And she just ... took it wrong, that's all."

Draco frowned. "You're not comfortable with Muggles?"

"Not really," Harry said frostily. "No."

"But ... But that's what you're for."

"I don't think people should hurt them," Harry said hastily. "Muggles are people just like wizards are. But I was never a participant in the Muggle world, and I feel odd there, even though I know a few bits of it better than the wizarding world." Harry shrugged. He realized his voice had risen and lowered it back to a whisper. Severus was frowning over his papers at them. "I was a captive, there, really. It's not ... Hermione feels comfortable there, I think. That's what I wanted to be sure of. Just in case."

"I see."

Draco and Harry worked silently for a while. Eventually, Draco said, "Does this mean you're free for the Halloween Ball?"

Harry blinked. He hoped that wasn't the beginning to an invitation. He'd have no idea how to handle that. "Draco...." he warned.

"Well? Are you?"

Harry sighed. "I'll give her another few days."

"If you must." Draco leaned close. "I know this fifth-year girl who's mad about you," he confided. "She's pretty -- a pureblood four generations, but not so much money or breeding that she'd consider you beneath her, and from a ... Reconciliationist family -- not Muggle-lovers, you know, but 'live and let live' sorts. She's not looking for a husband, but you don't seem to care about that. If you need a dance partner, I'd be happy to introduce you."

"A Slytherin."

"Of course, a Slytherin. But you don't seem hot on any of the Gryffindors, Granger aside." Draco grinned. "And since she's not in the marriage game...."

His tone seemed to imply that this was meaningful. Harry couldn't think of any reasonable continuation. The entire idea that they should be thinking about marriage seemed ludicrous to him, though he had picked up that purebloods tended to marry young.

"What?" he whispered.

"Well, you know! So her maidenhead isn't currency. She might let you put it in, for real." Draco laughed. His cheeks had gone pink. "Not that you can ever be certain, with girls, but you've more of a chance for something other than arse."

Harry choked. "Draco!" He wasn't sure he understood all of what Draco had meant, but the parts he had understood were enough to turn him red.

"Potter!" came a sharp voice "Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting class with your inane chatter. Move to the front bench!"

Harry looked up at the swiftly approaching professor, then, in dismay, at his cauldron. "But...." He swallowed. "Sir, if I move this before adding the mare's feathers, it will be ruined."

"Perhaps you should think of that before squawking at your classmates," Severus sneered. "Would you rather have detention?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Eight o'clock. Be prompt."

Ron and Hermione left Care of Magical Creatures together. Harry hurried to catch up to them.

Hermione sped up, her strides becoming long and swift.

"Hermione?"

"Harry, please! I don't want to talk to you." Her voice was shaking. "I just ... I don't."

"Fine!" Harry grabbed at Ron's shoulder. "Ron. I need to talk to you."

Hermione broke into a jog. Harry held Ron back from following her.

"Harry?"

"Something I'd like you to tell her--"

"If she'll listen, now!"

"Remind her I was upset before we started talking. I wasn't thinking well. I'd just been ..." Harry looked around and led Ron further from the invisible path between Hagrid's and the school. "Remus talked to me. Tell her that. I wasn't just worrying about her."

Ron looked bewildered. "Remus...?"

"I can't tell you here."

At dinner, Ron was with Hermione, and Zoë and Dean were sitting with Ginny, who seemed to be avoiding Harry out of solidarity, so Harry went and sat with a bunch of fourth years that he barely knew. Afterwards, he took his cloak and went to find his detention.

Severus wasn't in his office, so Harry portkeyed from there to his room. Hesitantly, he opened the door to the silent kitchen. He snuck quietly through the cozy room and peered out in the parlor. A low fire was burning in the grate. His father was standing at the far side of the room, one hand resting on his desk.

"Sir?"

Severus whirled to face him. His face went from blank to livid in an instant.

"What did you do?"

Harry was taken aback by the harsh question. "I don't ... what?"

"It's all over Slytherin that you broke up with her. Half my house says you are tired of having a Muggle-born girl--"

"What would they know?" Harry exploded. "I didn't break up with her! I didn't even mean-- I was just trying to explain something, and she took it wrong."

Severus was not mollified by this at all. He advanced on Harry, who struggled to stand his ground.

"What do you care, anyway?" Harry spat out at him. "I'd think you'd prefer I-"

The impact of Severus's hand on his cheek was enough to set his ears ringing. Harry stumbled back.

"I'd prefer that we not have another generation of THIS IDIOCY!" Severus shouted. "You're supposed to have some intelligence!" He stood still, glaring at Harry, his breath coming out short and ragged. His voice quieted. "Somewhere along the line, it shouldn't matter."

He turned away. His hand lifted unsteadily to the mantel and gripped it. "If you tell your children about this ... mess, they should giggle and say 'oh, Daddy, you're so old!'"

"Father?"

"Get out."

Harry stood frozen. He could hear the echo of Remus's voice in the command. Severus's shoulders settled back. The fire he was facing reached a grub in the log and consumed it with a sharp pop and shower of sparks.

"Come back tomorrow," Severus added, "and I'll try to behave decently. I obviously can't manage that, right now."

Harry raised a hand to his cheek. It was still burning, but that didn't really tell him anything.

"'S'okay," he said quietly. He left.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up from his nest of cushions, tucked into a corner of the currently very small Room of Requirement. Hermione was standing in the doorway, looking cautiously at him.

"Hey, Hermione," he said softly, as if she were a timid cat. "Come in."

Hermione came in, and let the door close behind her. "I thought you might be here, having a smoke, or something."

Harry brushed his hair back from his face. "If I had any fags left, I would be."

Hermione's cheeks dimpled with a smile. "The room won't provide that?"

"I don't know; I didn't try. I just asked for a place to curl up and be miserable, but in a comfy, safe sort of way." Hermione was beside the cushions, now. Harry uncurled, stretching back against the soft pile, and looked up at her. "I love you," he said sincerely.

"I know," she answered. She sat down at the edge of the mounded cushions and stretched out a hand to him. He took it in a firm grip. "Even when I was angry at you, I knew."

Harry made his touch lighter. He rolled towards her and kissed the back of her hand. "Does that mean you're not angry at me, anymore?" He kissed one of her fingers, then lightly ran his mouth above it. The feather touch of her skin awakened every nerve in his lips. Hermione whimpered, then firmly pulled her hand away.

"Stop that. I'm trying to talk to you."

Harry lay back and shook the hair clear of his eyes. "Talk, then, dearest."

"Don't," Hermione said angrily. Harry looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right -- just don't do it again." Hermione took a deep breath. "I came to say I'm sorry. I overreacted."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "I didn't explain well," he admitted. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't ever mean to make you think it made any difference to me."

Hermione nodded. "I ... I finally calmed down enough that I could tell someone what happened. I told Ginny everything, and ... Well, I have a very good memory, you know. And when I was repeating the words, they weren't so awful. I think it was just the way you started, and the way you were acting -- I was frightened before you got to it, and I heard everything through that."

Harry nodded. "I realized I'd loused it up pretty much immediately, and then I babbled and made it worse. Sorry. I was just scared that you'd...."

"Feel insulted and run off?"

"Yes." Harry shifted over and up, so that he was sitting, if still reclined back, and he patted the cushions next to him. "Sit with me."

Hermione eyed him warily. "No snogging."

"Oh, so you only sort of forgive me," Harry said archly. "I see." He grinned, and patted the cushions again. "Sit with me as my girl-mate then, please?"

Hermione giggled and sat.

"Severus is furious at me, you know," Harry offered.

"What for?"

"He heard someone say I'd dumped you because you were Muggle-born. I told him it wasn't like that -- I didn't dump you at all, and hadn't intended to insult you. But he could tell that was part of what we fought about, and he ranted about how we don't need another generation of this nonsense and he thought I had more intelligence."

Hermione's voice was very small when she said, "I thought you said he didn't want you seeing me."

"He's not comfortable with it." Harry took her hand and stroked it gently. "He'd like to be, though. Intellectually, he knows you're as good a witch as any, and he even admires you, except for that he thinks you crave approval more than you ought. He just can't ... can't...."

Harry took a firmer hold on her hand. "You're someone he was raised to despise," he said. "And he fought that, briefly, when he was friends with my mother, and when he was seeing her. Then, once they were apart for a bit, over summer, he embraced it. He's spent most of his adult life either fully believing Muggles and their offspring subhuman, or saying so, and still feeling it, even if he didn't think it. Now he has a Muggle-raised half-blood son -- and he does think I'm hopelessly Muggle, socially -- who's in love with a Muggle-born girl, but he's trying. He's putting a lot of effort into this. I didn't want to drive you off, I just wanted you to understand that it's torture for him to watch us holding hands, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"But he's angry at you because...."

"Yes. He says he'd like to think that somewhere along the line, it won't matter to his descendants. He says he'd like to think that if tell my children about this sort of fuss, they'll look at me and giggle and say 'oh, you're so old!'"

Hermione laughed. "I'd like that," she whispered.

"Me too." Harry hugged her close. "This is so stupid."

"You do care, though."

"I swear, I don't."

"You don't directly." She shifted away. "But you care that people approve of your girlfriend."

"It would be nice, but it's not important."

"But it's there. And I think it's not just Snape. What about Draco? He must care."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe a bit. He thinks I have the name and money to marry someone who would 'increase my social standing.' Harry laughed. "But of course, he thinks he knows my parentage, and he doesn't."

Hermione looked puzzled. "Snape's a pureblood, isn't he?"

"Yes, but not a Potter. It's a matter of status. Don't ask me to explain; I've never figured it out. But you'll note that Draco has no respect for Weasleys, and Snape was poorer than that, growing up."

"Will ... will he still be friends with you when he finds out?"

I don't know. I hope so."

"Why?"

Harry sighed. "He needs some decent friends? I like to think I qualify. I need at least one who doesn't fuss about my behavior -- well, my morals or ideological purity, anyway. He's that."

"Oh." Hermione looked down. "Are we friends?" she asked.

"Please," Harry replied.

"Thanks." She relaxed. "I know I fuss about both."

"You do," Harry agreed. "But you've never cast unwrinkling charms on my robes during a class, so you have your points, too."

Hermione burst out laughing. "He didn't!"

"Oh, he did." His amusement faded. "So -- do you still like me?"

"Yes."

"Despite my assimilationist behavior?"

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. That was -- You're a good person, Harry."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that you think so." Harry ran a finger against the pile of a velvet cushion. "So ... Come to the Halloween Ball with me?"

Hermione giggled nervously. "I can't. I promised Lydia I'd go with her. She asked me as soon as she heard we broke up, and I was so annoyed at you...."

"Lydia?" Harry repeated incredulously. Hermione was wrapping a lock of hair around one finger. "Who is Lydia?"

"Lydia Carson. She's a Ravenclaw girl in my Arithmancy class."

Harry laughed. He fell back in the cushions and laughed more. Hermione watched him, first anxiously, then, as he continued, with increasing irritation. Finally, Harry managed to speak.

"Oh, bloody hell! I am never going to hear the end of this from Ron!"

"What?"

"He'll say '...but you were such an awful boyfriend as to turn her lesbian.'"

"Harry!"

"Well, he will. Bet you ten Galleons, it's that within two or three words."

Hermione's annoyed expression broke into a smile. "Five."

"Done."

They shook on it, briefly. Hermione settled back against Harry, who tentatively put an arm around her.

"I didn't turn you off to boys, did I?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No. You're still managing to make me shiver, you know."

"But you don't want to get back together. Or do you? After the ball?"

"Not now. I want you to finish with whatever it is you're going through, first."

"Perhaps we can have all our messy romances with other people, then settle down with each other."

"You're sappy, you know that?"

"Well, you're a good girl to get comfortable with, you know?" Harry squeezed her close in emphasis. "And in practical terms, you'd be an excellent partner, I think." He kissed her hair and felt a warmth of affection flood his heart. "So, tell me about Lydia."

"Well, she's very clever, and studious, and ever so pretty. She has wavy, golden-brown hair half-way down her back, and red, curvy lips, and perfect skin."

"Mmm. How's she kiss?"

Hermione giggled. "With gentle care and perfect concentration."

Harry caught his breath. He wondered that he didn't feel more jealous. "Have fun."

"You too-- Get another partner, okay?"

"We'll see. I'll be there anyway -- I need to wear those trousers."

"Oh god!" Hermione twisted in his arms and looked at him in shock. "Snape?"

"Right."

"You want to get your father to throw a fit."

Harry laughed softly. "About something that doesn't matter."