A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head last night. I hope you all enjoy it. )
Friendship Dynamics.
-- Nesserz.
Friendship can be a very fragile thing – she knows this, which is why she'd often wondered why anyone would enter into such an agreement – an agreement that can be broken in a split second for many different reasons. A miscommunication, a disagreement, difference of opinion. So many ways for something so precious to be broken and never be the same again. Each different from the last.
Friendship dynamics interest her. Ron says it's silly for her to analyse people's friendships but they've always fascinated her. Take his and Harry's relationship for instance – she'd discovered that boys grunt in monosyllables to one another and whole conversations can be held in mere seconds. She marvels at how they can understand one another when they communicate like that. Have they no need to clarify things?
She is particularly amused by the way at breakfast Harry pushes the cereal bowl toward Ron and he grunts in reply, at first she'd seen this as rather rude, but soon came to realise it was his way of saying thank you. "Better to at least make a noise than to not say anything at all," he'd said when she'd questioned him about it. She supposed this was true. Though, it was also an answer typical of Ron, so she wasn't too set in her agreement.
She didn't think she'd ever been too good at being a friend when she was younger – the other children had called her a 'tattle tail' when she told them little Billy Hobson had wanted her to run up to Mrs. Eddings front door and ring the bell and run away – he'd said she couldn't be his friend anymore – that friends were supposed to keep secrets. She didn't think this was very fair. Mrs. Eddings was elderly and wouldn't take kindly to being disturbed. Though, she realised in later years, this was probably the point of the prank.
Harry sensed her discomfort at her being referred to as a friend by Ron in second year. He shrugged his shoulders and told her; "You'll get used to it, I have," and grinned and ran after Ron to join him in a game of wizard's chess. She did get used to it, even a second time around when Ginny declared her a 'best friend'. She'd asked what the difference was, between merely a 'friend' and a 'best friend' and Ginny had glowingly said that being a 'best friend' meant you were privy to all the best secrets. She'd pointed out that she was already privy to Ron and Harry's secrets, but Ginny shook her head, her ponytail swinging from side to side. "But they're boys, Hermione they don't have 'best friends' they're all the same. Girls have best friends." And so it was decided that summer night that Hermione Granger was indeed a best friend. She and Ginny talked for hours, and though her throat grew dry, Hermione couldn't have been happier. Though secretly, she wasn't sure about Ginny's theory – she thought boys did have best friends, even if they didn't admit it out loud.
She soon realised that every friendship has its limits though – hers were tested especially when Harry and Ron had fought in their fourth year. She was stretched both ways and wasn't entirely sure how to cope with it. Whose side was she meant to take? Were there rules in this kind of situation? She soon discovered there weren't, that she'd have to work it out for herself. She took the practical approach – trying to convince one to talk to the other. In the end it took a Dragon to make Ron see sense and Harry to stop being so stubborn. She didn't think it had mattered too much what she'd said to each of them as she'd seen them talking late that night in the common room, as though there hadn't been a tension between them at all. She didn't pretend to understand the way it worked, but she was fascinated by it all the same. The rift was mended and their friendship was cemented – stronger than it ever had been, even if she hadn't thought it possible.
She and Ron had had their fair share of friendship spats over the years and she remembered grinning right after one of their first ones when Harry had come along and said "Friendship troubles?" and she'd beamed at him and said simply, "Yes," he'd just stared at her, completely bewildered as to why anyone would be happy about having a fight with their friend. Ron had said she were mental though, so he didn't think too much of it.
It was in the later years of their schooling that she came to appreciate the dynamics of the friendship the three of them shared. It was an intensely close bond. One that she liked to hope could never shatter. She'd quite frightened herself when she found herself thinking that. That's the thing with friendship she knew that could never be determined – there were never any guarantees. There were no promises that something wouldn't come along and shatter it. So many instances could change the whole dynamic of what they had. Even then sometimes she had to play it by ear, still wasn't entirely sure how to be a real friend. She knew she fell back often on her bossy ways – purely because she didn't know how else to approach the situation. The boys were used to it, though Ginny would call her on it and take her down a peg or two and she would sheepishly hang her head, wondering how Ginny could be so perfect at being a friend. Ron said she was only perfect at being a pain. She didn't share his opinion.
She loved now that, several years on, the three of them could sit down to breakfast and Ron would butter her toast, and Harry would spread it with Strawberry jam for her, and she would both pour them bowls of oatmeal – Ron's with a heaping of sugar on top – without any of them having to make adjustments. Their friendship was that smooth. They could communicate what they were thinking without having to use words anymore. The grunting of answers had now ceased to be. Now words weren't even needed. And better yet – this time she was a part of the friendship the boys had formed back in their first year.
She knew without a doubt that each of them would always be there for the others – ready to do whatever it took to make sure they were safe. It still shocked her sometimes just how strong friendship could be. The blazing look she saw in Harry's eyes when he was making sure she was protected sent shivers up her spine. She told him she didn't need protecting though – and magic wise she didn't – but the feeling that she got from the protection of friendship Harry and Ron both gave to her made her able to stand up to anything. The way Ron's face would twist in an angry scowl if anyone dared to correct her made her stand up straighter. She felt now that she understood what it meant to be a friend – a best friend – it meant being there, no matter what. It meant adjusting to accommodate the needs of others – of looking out for them before she looked out for herself. In the end she didn't need to look out for herself because they were there, looking out for her too.
Many years before she had wondered how people could enter into the idea of friendship - knowing that it had the likelihood of failing. Now she understood that it was a chance you had to take – the beauty of it was never knowing what the outcome would be – unless you were a Seer, and really, Divination was a foggy subject to begin with – and taking the chance anyway. Putting yourself out there was something you had to do, and she was glad that she finally took the chance, took the chance to become a friend – a best friend, something that she wasn't sure she'd ever be good at. Something that like everything else, she did finally accomplish with flying colours, with Harry and Ron by her side.