Harry was at once comforted by this
essence of Hermione before him, but at the same time, unsettled by what
Hermione had seemed to be thinking. He felt terrible for having been so
withdrawn-- it was true, he had been. He hadn't meant to distance
himself from his friends, not really. It had just been that life had hurt
so much then. And he couldn't
for the life of him think why Hermione had thought he might be gay. He
certainly had no memory of checking out Neville's arse, or anyone
else's for that matter. Sex had not exactly been the foremost thing on
his mind, well, ever. There was too much else to worry about. Oh, sure,
he'd had crushes, but they'd always faded away quickly. He had never
had a sustained interest in anyone, unless he counted Cho, which he
didn't. Sleepy now but still curious, Harry skipped to the last entry
Hermione had written.
god. Harry felt worse than ever now. His eyes welled with
tears, thinking of the life together his friends would now miss.
Because of him. Because of his foolishness, his hubris, his idiocy.
Guilt and anger stabbing through his heart, he fell into a troubled and