The meeting adjourned shortly after, everyone processing the new arrangement in their own way.
Hermione and Lavender walked back toward Gryffindor Tower together, the comfortable silence between them different from before. Weighted with new meaning.
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. "For last night. And for backing me up in there."
"Of course." Lavender smiled. "That's what friends are for."
"Is that what we are now? Friends?"
Lavender considered. "I think we're something. I'm not sure there's a word for 'people who bonded over mutual penis trauma and gave each other orgasms,' but if there is, that's us."
Hermione laughed—a real laugh, the first one in days. "We'll have to invent one."
They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, gave the password, and climbed through the entrance.
The common room was mostly empty at this hour, just a few late-night studiers scattered around. Hermione was heading for the stairs when a voice stopped her.
"Hermione!"
Harry was sitting by the fire, a book open in his lap. He stood as she approached, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.
"Harry. It's late. What are you still doing up?"
"Waiting for you." He glanced at Lavender, who was hovering nearby. "Can we talk? Privately?"
Hermione's stomach clenched. "Harry, I'm really tired—"
"Please." His green eyes were earnest. "I know something's wrong. You've been avoiding me for days. Whatever it is, I want to help."
You can't help with this, she thought. Unless you want to give me a handjob, and oh God, where did THAT thought come from—
Her traitorous anatomy stirred at the mental image.
No. Down. BAD.
"Five minutes," she said, because she couldn't refuse him. Not when he looked at her like that. "Just five minutes."
Lavender shot her a sympathetic look and headed upstairs.
Harry led her to a quiet corner of the common room, away from the other students. They sat on a small sofa, knees almost touching, and Hermione tried very hard to focus on his face rather than the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest.
"Talk to me," Harry said softly. "Please, Hermione. We've been through everything together. Whatever this is, we can handle it."
We really can't, she thought.
"It's complicated," she said aloud.
"So uncomplicate it."
"I can't. Not yet. There are other people involved, and I made a promise—"
"Other people? You mean Lavender? And Pansy bloody Parkinson?" Harry's brow furrowed. "Hermione, what could you possibly have in common with Pansy Parkinson that you can't tell me about?"
More than you could ever imagine.
"It's a private matter. A... women's issue."
"You keep saying that, but it doesn't make sense. Since when do you have private 'women's issues' with Slytherins?"
"Since recently. Look, Harry—"
"Is someone threatening you? Blackmailing you? Because if someone's got something on you—"
"No one's blackmailing me!"
"Then why won't you trust me?" The hurt in his voice cut her to the bone. "I thought we were best friends. I thought we told each other everything."
"We are best friends. You're—" She stopped, swallowed. "You're the most important person in my life, Harry. That's exactly why I can't tell you this."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I know." Tears were pricking at her eyes again. "I know it doesn't. But please, just trust me. I'm handling it. It'll be over in a few months, and then everything will go back to normal, and you'll never have to know."
Harry stared at her for a long moment. Then he reached out and took her hand.
Hermione's cock jumped.
No. No no no no—
"Whatever it is," Harry said, his thumb stroking over her knuckles, "I'm here for you. Whenever you're ready to talk. Okay?"
She couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. His hand was warm and slightly calloused, and every nerve in her body was screaming for more contact.
"Okay," she managed.
"I mean it, Hermione. Whatever it is. I won't judge you."
You say that now, she thought desperately, but you don't know. You don't know I have a penis. You don't know I've been dreaming about you—and Draco bloody Malfoy—in very new ways. You don't know Lavender gave me a handjob last night, and I'm already wondering if you'd—
She stood abruptly, pulling her hand free.
"I have to go. Goodnight, Harry."
"Hermione—"
She fled up the stairs before he could stop her, her robes held carefully in front of her to hide the growing bulge in her pyjamas.
Behind her, she heard Harry sigh.