Like Father, Like Son [Harmione]

Chapter 8

A mighty pain to love it is,

And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;

But of all pains, the greatest pain

It is to love, but love in vain.

-Abraham Cowley

Chapter 8 — What You do to Me

 "She thinks I'm pitiful, Ron," said Harry morosely to his best mate.

"She said that?" Ron asked semi-interestedly as he moved his knight to take Harry's rook.

"Yeah," said Harry, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. "She also said I'm arrogant, conceited, and selfish"

Ron grinned at him. "She may have a point there, mate...well, except for the selfish part," said Ron thoughtfully.

Harry let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, she might."

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair before saying, "So...are you going to try and change who you are? For a girl?"

Harry clenched his jaw. If Ron called Hermione 'just a girl' one more time he was going to be seriously injured. "Yes, Ron. For Hermione. I've actually been trying it for a little over a week now. It's tough, but if I do it enough, I think it'll eventually become my nature."

When he was sure Harry was focused on the chessboard, Ron rolled his eyes.

After the game (in which Harry absolutely demolished Ron as usual), Harry slowly walked back to his dormitory, deep in thought. He wished he could stop acting like such an idiot when Hermione was around, but it never worked out because she made his brain go all fuzzy when she was around.

The nargles must attack me when I'm at my most vulnerable, thought Harry, then laughed as he realized how much Luna had rubbed off on him.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Luna, that was it! Luna was the nicest, most caring, most innocent person he knew! Who better to learn how to be nice from than the epitome of the definition of the word?

His pace picked up and a grin grew on his face he realized how perfect and flawless his plan was. Luna would show him the light—he was sure of it.

His grin nor his step faltered the whole way to his dormitory until he entered the common room. Hermione stiffened up, shoulders tense, and Harry immediately followed suit.

He readjusted his bag over his shoulder so it was sitting in a less precarious position on his shoulder, then lowered his head a little and started walking toward the door of his room. He loved talking to and teasing Hermione, but what she had said to him the night before would have to result in a few more days of wound-licking before he was ready for her cool responses to his come-ons.

But with his hand on the door, ready to push it open, a thought struck him. What would Luna do?

It was quite obvious that Harry was at least partly to blame for Hermione's outburst last night, otherwise she wouldn't have been so very angry at him. He must've done something to hurt her...again, after he had promised to never do so again. But what could he have possibly done to have hurt her?

Hermione must've wondered why Harry had been standing staring at his door for so long, but she didn't say one word about it, choosing instead to search her feelings for what she needed to do in a situation like this. She knew deep down that no matter how angry she was at someone, she had no right to inflict emotional pain upon them. Her words had been cruel, cutting, meant to cripple. Hermione found that despite how much she fervently wished Harry would just leave her alone and stop confusing and annoying her all the time, she felt incredibly guilty and ashamed that she could so easily degrade and be so mean to her fellow man and not have enough courage to properly apologize to him. Funnily enough, it was for the same reason Harry didn't sincerely ask her out that she wasn't apologizing. Even (or should it be especially?) when it came to Harry, she was afraid of being rejected and having her faults flaunted in front of her own eyes.