Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling [189]
“Well?” Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. “How was it?”
Harry considered for a moment.
“Wet,” he said truthfully.
Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.
“Because she was crying,” Harry continued heavily.
“Oh,” said Ron, his smile fading slightly. “Are you that bad at kissing?”
“Dunno,” said Harry, who hadn’t considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. “Maybe I am.”
“Of course you’re not,” said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter.
“How do you know?” said Ron in a sharp voice.
“Because Cho spends half her time crying these days,” said Hermione vaguely. “She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.”
“You’d think a bit of kissing would cheer her up,” said Ron, grinning.
“Ron,” said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her ink pot, “you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Ron indignantly. “What sort of person cries while someone’s kissing them?”
“Yeah,” said Harry, slightly desperately, “who does?”
Hermione looked at the pair of them with an almost pitying expression on her face.
“Don’t you understand how Cho’s feeling at the moment?” she asked.
“No,” said Harry and Ron together.
Hermione sighed and laid down her quill.
“Well, obviously, she’s feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she’s feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can’t work out who she likes best. Then she’ll be feeling guilty, thinking it’s an insult to Cedric’s memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she’ll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can’t work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that’s all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she’s afraid she’s going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she’s been flying so badly.”
A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, “One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.”
“Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have,” said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill again.
“She was the one who started it,” said Harry. “I wouldn’t’ve — she just sort of came at me — and next thing she’s crying all over me — I didn’t know what to do —”
“Don’t blame you, mate,” said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought.
“You just had to be nice to her,” said Hermione, looking up anxiously. “You were, weren’t you?”
“Well,” said Harry, an unpleasant heat creeping up his face, “I sort of — patted her on the back a bit.”
Hermione looked as though she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty.
“Well, I suppose it could have been worse,” she said. “Are you going to see her again?”
“I’ll have to, won’t I?” said Harry. “We’ve got D.A. meetings, haven’t we?”
“You know what I mean,” said Hermione impatiently.
Harry said nothing. Hermione’s words opened up a whole new vista of frightening possibilities. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho — Hogsmeade, perhaps — and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened. … The thought made his stomach clench painfully.
“Oh well,” said Hermione distantly, buried in her letter once more, “you’ll have plenty of opportunities to ask her. …”
“What if he doesn’t want to ask her?” said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.
“Don’t be silly,” said Hermione vaguely, “Harry’s liked her for ages, haven’t you, Harry?”
He did not answer. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the