Harry looked around the small room and wondered where Ron was, and why he was so late. He wasn't one to usually think about such things, opting instead to trust his… well, his best friend. He still wasn't sure what to call their rather new and not altogether unpleasant tryst. He was sitting on the small bed, noting how uncomfortable it was. He sighed, and checked his watch again.
He was waiting for Ron in a room at the Three Broomsticks, waiting to spend a day together in Hogsmeade- he didn't really think he needed to get a room, but after talking to Ron, he relented and got one. Ron's argument was pretty convincing; Harry really didn't want the entire world to know what was going on between them, and it would be nice to be able to just sit together in a room and not have to worry about someone walking in on them or interrupting anything. He laughed a little, wondering if it would be Ginny to walk in on him and Ron, and how horribly, horribly ironic it would be.
Their tryst started only a few weeks ago. Harry, ever the brooding teenager, was sitting in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, thinking about something at the time he thought important. He noticed, as his own character flaw, that he seemed almost to like being sad. Well, "like" was perhaps the wrong word. He just found comfort in the loneliness, the dreariness. It was something familiar to him; raised around the Dursleys, who made his life a living hell, he had learned to find a certain perverse appreciation for the chaos of his life, a safety in the fact that he never thought he'd be safe, or happy, for that matter. This was almost forcibly changed, however, when he made friends; if any of his angry, scalding outbursts to them had anything to say about it, needing to share himself with other people was something he was neither used to nor comfortable with. (Ron and Hermione, however, were more than patient with him, and he had long since grown content with their friendship's closeness and almost never ending constancy.)
A sharp pat on the back roused him from his thinking; he couldn't for the life of him figure what he was thinking about after that surprising touch, so he resigned to himself that it wasn't anything terribly substantial, though it saddened him to know he'd wasted his time thinking of nothing. Shaking his head, Harry looked up and saw the gangly, red-headed form of his friend, his face shrouded in shadow as the fire of the common room behind him blazed brightly. Harry could tell from his stance that he was slightly uncomfortable, and got up to actually inspect Ron's face. His eyebrows were knitted together- not that that was terribly different from his usual, cantankerous expression- but his eyes looked distressed, and he looked more tired than was usual this late in the year; no major homework had been assigned recently, and for all intents and purposes, the year had been fairly relaxed (so far).
"Hey mate, we really need to talk." The single sentence filled Harry with dread, and the pleading look on his friends face, so different from the usual defensive and cranky Ron, seemed to scream the importance of the soon-to-occur conversation.
"Whatever you need. What's wrong?" Harry's voice lowered considerably and he continued. "You look horrid. Has something happened?"
Ron seemed to ignore Harry's voice, opting instead to scan the room for anyone who might be looking at the two of them. "Look, not here. We need to talk. Alone." With that, Ron grabbed Harry's wrist, and started to drag him off to their dorm room. Harry, not particularly used to being manhandled- imagine that- ripped his arm out of Ron's grasp. Ron turned around sharply and shot a glare at Harry, who promptly returned it, wondering if Ron was going to go on some PMS spree like he was so likely to do. Instead of the expected jibe, Ron's expression melted into something resembling regret and he seemed to shrink, eyes scanning the common room again. No one had seen what had just transpired, but he was still thoroughly embarrassed. He mumbled something that sounded apologetic and looked away, turning again and walking to the dorm room, where the conversation was to be had. Harry shrugged, and looking for Hermione, who was most likely chatting with the new librarian's assistant, followed his friend into the room.
Ron, getting into the room only a few moments before Harry, spotted the chair from one of the desks and was walking with purpose towards it as Harry walked in the door. Grabbing the chair, Ron closed the door and used the chair as a pseudo lock, as Professor McGonagall had long since made it impossible for students to lock doors after a particularly nasty incident that resulted in a pregnant sixth year student and a story that would be around as long as the Ravenclaw house itself. It was a rather out-of-place muggle method, but it worked in keeping the door closed when the time came.
Harry sat on his four-poster, and waited for Ron to start. A moment after the door was closed, Ron began to speak, (quite frantically at that) pacing up and down the room. "It seems like there are so many people in the common room tonight, and I was hoping to talk to you in there, what with it being more comfortable and all, but it seems everything has shut-down or something because no one was gone, and every bloody Gryffindor in the bloody castle was in there tonight and-" He cut himself off, finally hearing himself blather on and on about nothing as Harry sat semi-amused, watching him. "I've spoken to Bill, and my mum, and I just… I've been having this problem, Harry, and-" He stopped again and hung his head, his fists shaking. He looked at Harry, who was both worried and intrigued about what could've caused this level of distress in his best friend, and sat next to his friend on the bed, sighing deeply and looking more tired and worn-down than Harry had ever seen him.
"Just spit it out Ron, you're driving me crazy." Harry furrowed his brow and patted his friend on the shoulder, though it was slightly awkward as Ron was more than a few inches taller than he was, and gangly at that.
Ron sighed again and continued. "I'm getting to it," he said, stalling, "but it's complicated. I mean, I've even tried speaking to Fred and George, the load of help that did me, and Hermione was sort of the one who gave me the best advice, although I've been losing my nerve for the past few days and-"
"Merlin's beard, can you prattle on."
"Well, it's just…" Ron was having a hard time thinking of the words to say. "I've been having these problems. These… thoughts about someone, recently. But this person, I'm pretty sure anyways, has no idea about them, which is good, because I wouldn't know what to do with mirrored emotions if I even tried." Harry looked a little shocked at Ron's sudden eloquence, but let him continue untaunted. "I've asked my mum, and she told me to wait it out and see what happens, 'cause that's how she bagged Dad- yeah, that's what I need, to date my dad- Bill told me to test the waters with a love note, but I'm not a little kid anymore and that's so…" He looked up, more calm now than he was earlier, "… so little kid; that, and I'm not good at writing, anyways. Fred and George just told me to bugger-off." He rolled his eyes dramatically, presumably at his own stupidity for having asked them for any help on such a serious subject, "Hermione was the only one who gave me real advice, though it seemed really stupid at the time. She told me to 'evaluate my feelings and do what I thought best.'" At this is went stiff-backed and did an impersonation of Hermione's 'know-it-all' voice, which was really different (and quite much more annoying) than her normal conversation voice. "At first, I was angry, because if I knew what to do, I would've done it already and spare myself the embarrassment of speaking to the whole bloody castle about my inability to talk to… to this someone I like.
"The more I thought about it though, the more I started thinking about what to do, and I decided to go for it. I told her this, too, the other day in the Great Hall while you were still getting ready for a quiddich match. She said I should go with it if that was what my instinct told me, so…" He paused, his face turning to look at Harry, flushed with the rush of speech and subject matter. "I guess I needed to run it by you," he said cryptically.
The stared at each other, Harry's face unreadable. He waited for Ron to continue, but it seemed he would go no further until Harry said something.
"I'm really not sure what you're playing at, but being your friend and all, I'll bite. What do you need to run by me?" Harry looked at Ron, and smiled weakly as Ron bit his lip, his eyes suddenly searching for anything other than Harry's face.
After a long silence, Ron got up, shaking his head angrily.
"You know what? I'm sorry this even happened. Just, pretend this conversation never existed, okay? We'll talk about this later. I need to clear my head." Ron hastily got up off the bed, walked over brusquely to the door, removed the chair and walked out of the room, as if Harry had said something to shock him to oblivion. Harry stared at the door a little while longer, his mind's cogs clicking and churning, trying vainly to figure out what the hell had just transpired.
Chucking an angry pillow at Ron's four-poster- making the actual poster on the wall yell at him angrily- Harry, feeling tired, laid back on his bed and fell asleep, still in his day clothes and not bothering to even take off his glasses. Sometimes, he thought, it was easier to be alone.
Harry woke up that night to see everyone in his dorm room sleeping in their beds but Ron. He blinked wearily, wondering that in the darkness and with his glasses askew and cast off on the bed- most likely falling off him in his sleep- if he could've missed the skinny boy in the thick blankets, but upon further squinty examination, Harry deduced that Ron truly wasn't there.
Readying himself for a nighttime adventure- he rolled his eyes, wishing he didn't have such an insatiable curiosity- Harry began searching for his glasses; the endeavor spent some fifteen minutes of his time, checking under pillows and in their respective cases, reaching under the bed, and fondling the comforter. He couldn't find them anywhere near the bed, until he noticed them folded neatly on the drawer near his bedside table.
He stared at the blurry form of his black, round glasses as a thought occurred to him. He'd slept with his glasses on loads of times before at the castle, and he'd never taken the time to notice the way that they always appeared on his bed table. Well, that was a lie, he thought to himself. The thought had occurred to him more than once, and he was surprised it bothered him so much now; that someone was touching him in his sleep and he didn't even wake up, didn't even notice. He shuddered, and grabbed the glasses off the small table, and putting them on scanned the room again.
Neville was snoring slightly, but aside from that, everything seemed in place save for the absence of Ron. The door, however, was slightly ajar, and Harry's inquisitiveness got the better of him. He stepped quietly out of his bed and into his slippers, as to avoid the cold ground beneath him, and walked towards the door; as he ventured closer, he heard two voices in the common room. They were too hushed and muffled to be noticed as either boy or girl, and Harry poked his body out from the door's crack, doing his best not to make a noise. The door creaked a bit, and every time it did, he held his breath for what seemed like minutes to hear for the voices and see if they'd stopped. They hadn't, so when he was finally free of the heavy, creaky door, he was able to snatch one good glance at the people in the common room, who seemed very deep in conversation.
Ron and Hermione sat in chairs, both seats facing the fire and away from the dorm room corridor. If Harry strained his ears, he could hear the conversation. He heard Ron speaking, and angrily.
"… and just stared at me; for once I wish I could see what he saw. I wonder if I sounded like as much of an idiot as I think I did. I mean, I told him I talked to everyone, which I didn't, because I only talked to four or five people if that, but-"
Hermione's curt reply seemed to slow Ron down, a practiced tone which meant the conversation had been going like this for a while now.
"Really, just stop, Ron. You're being too harsh on your self. You really think Harry suspects anything? And even if he did, I think he'd talk to you about it before jumping to conclusions or saying something rash. He's a good person, Ron, and you'd do well to stop projecting your own reactions to Harry's face, because- and I mean no offence by this- but the two of you are nothing alike in the emotional regard. He has feelings, and you…" she looked at him, and he stiffened. "You just seem to get crankier whenever something emotional goes your way."
At this, Ron sneered at her, making an ugly face before looking back at the fire.
"He's just so… stoic, all the time." He fell silent. Ron was never very forward with what he felt, and everything had to be pulled out of him, if there was anything to be gleaned at all. The fact that he was being so blunt with Hermione stunned Harry a bit. It did make Harry a little jealous, though, that Ron was talking to her and not him for whatever he needed, especially if the topic was about him. It is to say, who better to comment about Harry than Harry himself? The-boy-who-lived frowned a little, feeling the gnawing in his stomach grow and bother him more and more by the moment, until Ron's voice cut into his thoughts again.
"I just… I don't project myself onto him." Harry sighed, relieved a little bit that Ron still wasn't being completely open. Evasion of the topic was Ron's trademark in conversations he didn't like. "Don't use your… your psycho muggle mind analyzings on me." It was Hermione's turn to sneer.
"Wizards don't magically stop using psychology, Ron." She giggled a little at her own joke. "Just because muggles can't use magic doesn't mean they can't have the same sort of mind-set of some wizards. We're all still human."
A quietness pervaded the room, and even Harry, who was no part of his conversation despite his being the topic, was growing uncomfortable. There were too many pauses in this little talk, and Harry had yet to figure its meaning. He was beginning to get tired, and he listened the best he could, but some of the conversation slipped away from him as they continued their awkward, slow back and forth. And hour later, he was no closer to figuring out what they were talking about than he was to stopping the Dark Lord by kicking him in the shins, though the image seemed to cheer Harry up considerably.
"He's a different sort, Hermione. We're so different, in such far apart playing fields, I'm not even sure what… what I'd do if… if 'that' did happen. I mean, he's a bloody icon for the safety of the wizarding world, and, I'm-" he paused, thought at this point, it was almost unnoticeable. Ron seemed to be having a very difficult time talking, and though he wasn't usually the most eloquent person in the world, he was putting a lot more time than usual making sure he didn't sound silly. Harry wondered if it was the subject or the fact he was trying to sound smart in front of Hermione that made him feel like he needed to work so hard. "I'm just a poor bloke with a pedigree."
At this, Hermione clicked her tongue, but made no notion to wave away these thoughts from Ron's head; Harry, ever the eavesdropper, let his mind wander into thinking about whether or not it was because Hermione agreed with him, or she was just tired of trying to dissuade Ron's thoughts, stubborn as he was.
"Well, there's a reason he was chosen to be The-Boy-Who-Lived. He's smart, quick thinking and he sees a lot of what goes on around him." Ron looked up at her, but let her continue before he said anything. "He's a leader, and stronger than anyone else I know. He plots everything out so that no one gets hurt, or at least, thinks out a plan with the least amount of casualties." At this, Ron's looked away, frowning deeper now. He scratched his chin and cleared his throat, as if there was some itch in his neck he couldn't get at. Harry felt the same gnawing sensation right now in the bit of his stomach; to know that the two of them were talking, conspiring, even, about him made him more than a little uneasy.
The silence was broken and Ron spoke, his voice cracking. The sound of the uncontrolled emotion freaked Harry out, and he wanted to pat Ron on the back and tell him it would be fine, though he really didn't have any idea what they were going on about other than it had something to do with himself.
"Yea… yea, you're right Hermione. But what if… I'm a casualty in that situation?" Another long silence, and Harry peaked another glance at the scene. Hermione was standing up, making her way to Ron's chair, but before she reached him, he got up and half-walked half-ran to the dorm where he was supposed to be hours before. Harry's pulse quickened; he was just barely ahead of Ron as he flew into the room and onto his bed, quickly making himself look asleep by burying himself in his covers. He noticed too late that his glasses were still on, and mentally cursing himself, heard the door creak open and saw Ron's shape head towards his own bed. Ron glanced around the room, and took a double-take as he spied Harry. With a grace Harry would've scarcely believe belonged to someone as gangly as Ron, he walked over and gently lifted Harry's glasses off his presumably sleeping face and, holding them in his hands for a moment as if they were something precious, set them on the bedside table. He seemed almost to collapse on the side of his bed, his face buried in his hands as if ashamed.
Harry, who's heart was beating fast and was hoping that Ron didn't realize the quickened breath, cracked an eye open to spy Ron shaking silently. He heard a small gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob and closed his eyes again, almost guilty for having seen his friend in such a such a pathetic state, and one that Ron would obviously be embarrassed to have witnesses for. The very soft sobbing sound didn't die down for a while, and Harry's stomach flipped and flopped until at last Ron curled up on his bed after wiping his long, freckled nose a few times, and settled into a weary sleep. Harry touched his face where Ron had brushed it while taking his glasses off. He thought it would be something dirty, being handled unaware in his sleep, but the action was so far from dirty or malevolent that he couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest rise to his throat as he blinked back a stinging in his eyes.
No, he told himself, and though the burning continued, no tears were shed. Once more tracing spots Ron touched on his face once more, he fell to sleep with visions of a warm night and a gangly red-haired boy running through his head.
The sun seemed to be punishing Harry for last night's spying, because when the rays hit his eyes, there was no chance of getting back to sleep in such obnoxious light. With a groan, Harry tried futilely to hide from the light, rolling dramatically to the side and throwing the covers haphazardly over his head, uncovering his feet and making him shiver at the sudden loss of warmth. Mumbling angrily, he sat up. He looked at the bedside table and saw his glasses there, still folded neatly. Harry felt the same warmth as he felt last night looking at them. He grabbed them and held them in his hand, mirroring Ron's actions last night. He smiled to himself, happy to have such a good person by his side. That thought seemed to cheer him up immensely, and as he looked around the room, he saw that only one other person remained in the room with him.
Ron was tangled in his covers like he was shifting in his sleep. This came to Harry as no surprise. Ron moved all the time in his sleep, possibly more fitful than Harry, though Ron's sleep seemed to be much deeper and more refreshing if his snoring had anything to say about it.
Harry looked at is best friend's sleeping back and swung his feet to the side of the bed, heading over to Ron's bed. Once there, he looked at Ron's face and would've laughed if wasn't in such an odd, floating mood. With a cheek smashed in the pillow, Ron's face seemed pushed all to one side, and his hand was in an odd position that Harry knew would cause him to complain later in the day- complaining seemed just to be in Ron's nature, and Harry had gotten more than used to the other's voice as he grumbled about some thing or another. He did notice that the hand at the odd angle seemed stiff, and Ron's thumb stuck straight out as if his hand was asleep.
Presumptuously figuring that it was late enough, Harry grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom, shutting the door rather loudly as to wake his sleeping friend. He heard a grunt behind the door, and imagined that, should Ron's hand actually been asleep, he was feeling it's pain right now. Harry could only imagine that an emotionally spent and pain-drunk Ron would be the very paragon of light and happiness for the morning times, so he decided to stay in the shower longer than usual to give Ron some time to buck-up for the day's tedium. He brushed his teeth in the shower and, though he knew it was a waste of time and natural resources, just stood in the warm stream and enjoyed the soft hitting of the drops on his pale skin.
When Harry got out of the bathroom, refreshed, clean and very much awake, he could only say that one of the three applied to the very moody, very tired looking Ron. He was awake all right, but only physically. His mind seemed to have checked out a while ago, and his eyes were dull. He was shaking his hand weakly, as if trying to get blood back to it, and seemed to snap to immediate attention when Harry walked through the door, robed and ready for the day, glasses still slightly foggy from the heat of the shower.
"Morning, Ron." He said, weakly. His friend merely grunted a response and went back to shaking his hand awake, though now it was a more frantic motion, as if the pain had suddenly come back to him in a wave. "I'm going to the Great Hall, so get ready if you're going to go as well."
With that, Ron stopped shaking his hand and just started opening and closing it. He stretched and yawned, rolling out of the bed and mumbling a soft, "ready" to Harry. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his wrinkled, day-old robes. Harry shook his head, and lead the way out of the dorms as Ron lagged behind him, still messing with the hand that had been asleep a few minutes before.
Harry laughed- a happiness in his core was just roaring at him, telling him that today was going to be a good day.
Harry jumped. The door to the room had sprung open, with a very disgruntled looking Ron standing in it's doorway. Harry beamed as his friend as he walked in, slamming the door shut behind him and hanging his head.
"I swear, Harry, the less I talk to my mum the better I'll be." He looked up at Harry with revulsion in his eyes. "Mum keeps badgering me about this 'girl I'm seeing,' because she fancies that I've been sneaking off to see Hermione for the past few weeks- you can thank Fred and George for even telling her I've been slinking about. I'm going mad about it, and I'm going to end up telling her the truth so she'll shut up- for all the good it'll do me, I might as well just Apparate into Azkaban and kiss a dementor." Ron growled as Harry sat down next to him, smiling sadly at his friend.
"It must be nice to have a mother that actually cares enough about you to wonder where her son is sneaking off to in the middle of the day." Ron stared at Harry again, and rolled his eyes as if he'd heard it all before.
"Come off it, man. She's a lunatic." He didn't bring the conversation up again, and Harry was glad for it; he didn't really like playing the orphan card, but he also didn't really want to listen to Ron grumble all day about a family he wished he could have. "Are we still going out? I'm mighty tired…" Ron trailed off as though Harry might relent in his quest to go roam around.
"Yes, we are, so don't whine about it. I've been looking forward to actually having some time away from everyone, and now's as good a time as any. Beside, you agreed you'd take me out for a long time now." Harry got up from his seat by Ron and grabbing his hand, headed towards the door. Ron allowed himself to be pulled towards the exit, but stopped walking just as Harry was about to reach the door. When Harry turned, he was greeted by Ron stealing a kiss from his lips. They both looked at each other for a second, and Harry began to grin as Ron's ears turned a bright shade of red. He mumbled something about needing to leave, and making to step away from the potentially awkward situation, headed for the door himself.
It was his turn to be stopped now, but Harry put both of his hands on the sides of Ron's face as he planted his lips on the other's. It was longer than Ron's small peck, and Harry stepped closer to get a better position; the red-head was still taller than him, and had to lean down a bit in order for their exploits to run smoothly.
Ron closed his eyes- kissing was always awkward if they looked at each other- and tried his best to kiss like Harry did, which was to no avail, as he was clumsy and not very skilled at the whole affection thing; of course, neither was Harry, but he somehow managed to be good at everything, and this was no exception. Doing his best to keep up, he wrapped his long arms around his friend's back and began running his hands over Harry's shoulder blades. Harry shuddered, laughed, and broke away, causing Ron to open his eyes and blink rather stupidly.
"I'm ticklish there." Ron let go and he eyed his friend, giving him a once over before mumbling something about that not ever being mentioned before. Harry began to laugh, slightly at first, but then more and more loudly, until it spread to Ron and soon they were both laughing like they'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
Harry, wiping tears from his eyes and breathing hard, began talking through his laughter. "Come on, now, we need to get going." He and Ron were still laughing as they walked out the door to their room, where they would undoubtedly be spending more time together alone in the future.
It was going to be a good day.
When Harry and Ron made it to the Great Hall, Hermione could already be seen with the Daily Prophet in her hand, lazily skimming the articles for anything interesting for her to look up later on in the Library. Harry, stupid grin plastered on his face, sat down next to her, listening to the chatter and drama of the people around them. He didn't have to search to hard for a seat; Hermione had few friends willing to put up with her moody banter in the mornings, and she was generally left alone to read the paper uninterrupted. When she spotted Harry, she looked up at him with raised eyebrows and a dark expression, instantly sobering Harry of his annoying cheer.
"What are you so happy about?" She said, her voice dangerous. Harry then noticed the dark circles under her eyes, realizing that Hermione didn't do well without her sleep. He'd keep that in mind.
He shrugged noncommittally, the smile having been torn from his face. "Nothing."
She stared at him a moment, and her face softened, as if she was remembering suddenly; generally she wasn't so easy to read, but Harry ignored it. She immediately turned to Ron, who still looked sour and was clenching his once-asleep hand tightly. They shared a moment, her eyes meeting his and her eyebrows raising as a smile seemed to creep onto her face. His face remained unchanged and he grunted at her, turning away. He started grabbing food clumsily with his still-recovering hand, and piled it on his plate, not in the mood to attempt the usual morning small-talk.
She pursed her lips and shrugged, sighing uncomfortably as Harry looked on with a frown growing on his face. He wondered if this was about their conversation, and the happiness that once pervaded his chest was drowned out by the same gnawing jealousy that he felt last night. His brooding was cut short by Hermione's voice in his ear; she must has sensed his growing unease, and she began talking airily about the news. She and Harry talked about how little were interesting things written about in the news paper, while Ron continued eating grumpily.
After breakfast, the trio began discussing their schedules for the day. Ron's mood had lightened considerably, able to mellow out in his morning solitude, and the conversation from then on was light and amusing. Harry had soon forgotten about last night's proceedings, and they walked to their first class with happy hearts.
As they were discussing, the schedules for that day weren't terrible. Ron and Harry's first point of focus was the Quidditch practice later that night, but that conversation quickly died as Hermione soon began to feel left out of their mindless sports talk and butted in about the morning's classes. They had Charms and Herbology with the Hufflepuffs back to back that morning, and Potions that evening, make Ron complain about never being able to pair up with anyone competent in that class, which angered Hermione, with whom he had been partners with more than anyone else. They squabbled until they made it (with little time to spare) to the Charms class room, and with Hermione and Ron still shooting each other nasty faces, Professor Flitwick entered the room and stood on his podium in front of the class. The enchanted chalk was already writing notes about today's lesson, the homework, and books for anyone (namely Hermione) interested in learning more on the subject.
"Today we'll be learning about using magic underwater. The bubble-head charm is most useful in such situations, and will allow you to easier say your spells while submerged…" The professor's voice was droning, and most of the class tuned out the lecture, scribbling down little things and the major points before going back to day dreaming. Harry and Ron paired up to practice the charm, though it was difficult to know if you had actually made the charm work, as the bubble was nothing but air and was very hard to distinguish from the normal atmosphere. Hermione had paired up with Neville, and they chatted merrily and laughed as they both tried the spell, Hermione helping Neville's less that perfect magic-wielding skills.
From that point on, the rest of the day passed smoothly. The schedule for the house's Quidditch matches had been posted sometime that evening, and that launched Ron and Harry into another Hermione-excluding Quidditch conversation. Hermione, however, seemed little to mind their talking, as she, Neville, and Seamus Finnegan were talking about Herbology, and the poor second year Ravenclaw who, like Neville in days long past, had forgotten to secure his earmuffs when dealing with adolescent mandrakes and given himself a horrid head wound by smacking into the corner of the greenhouse tables when he passed out from the screaming.
Harry looked through the house matches, not exactly thrilled with having to run the team. He loved the sport, but decided that, should he join a league for fun sometime in the future, Captain would not the position he'd ever want to fill again. It did, however, give him ample opportunity to plan practices at around his own schedule, and that almost made up for the loads of work he had to put into the new members. Ron was a great tactician, so as they walked to the Quidditch pitch that evening with the rest of the team, they talked about the new formations, making them either more or less complex depending on who was doing what; the more skilled members had the brunt of the complex forms unfortunately, but Harry was hard pressed to find more willing people in the whole school.
Practice that night went well; the weather, though a little hot for their tastes, lent itself for a long, mostly uninterrupted practice. They were able to run through three or four different exercises before they finally had to take a break. Hermione has stopped by and watched them practice for an hour or so, but she soon grew tired and disappeared- Harry and Ron hardly noticed that she slipped away, however, their hands full trying to drill a little more discipline into the newer players, who seemed a little lacking in resolve.
Ron was a little off his game that night, however, and it seemed to throw a few of the people off. He was barking orders alongside Harry, but when it came time to finally do his job as a keeper he fell far short of the mark, which prompted some horribly unneeded comments from a one of their new beaters, who shortly thereafter had to run two laps around the Quidditch field under Ron's threat of shoving the broomstick down his throat. Even with Ron's eventual shortcomings, the team receded back to Hogwarts mostly happy, and wholly confidant in their abilities (with the exception of Ron, who lingered on the field after everyone else had headed to the locker rooms). Harry tried to speak to the red head, but there was little conversation to be had; Ron had a dark cloud looming over him, and Harry, being a moderately astute young man, decided it would be best to give him time to cool off. As much as he loved his friend, Harry would be the first to admit to his terrible inability to cheer people up. Ron wasn't someone who's wrath he wanted to endure (been there, done that). He'd gotten enough snippy comments throughout the day from the red head that anything Ron would bark at him now would likely sour his mood irreversibly.
After changing out of his Quidditch robes, he walked slow enough for Ron to catch up so they could walk to the castle together. When Ron finally appeared, he was still rather put-out, and the only thing Harry could think of to do was pat him on the back and tell him that it would get better. Ron shrugged it off, and they walked in silence to the dorms.
The castle was quiet, and the echoing of their footsteps seemed loud. The only thing the pair could hear was the faint laughter the other Gryffindor Quidditch players, who seemed by now far ahead of them. Harry was just about to start up a conversation about the practices when they rounded the corner, the sight before them causing their jaws to drop. Harry chanced a look at Ron, who's face seemed to go from mildly annoyed to full blown rage.
Ginny was pressed up against the wall, her small body half-concealed by the robes of a tall blond boy who seemed to be having a great time. There were a few seconds of awkward silence as the two continued their activities unaware of audience glaring at them; in a flash, Ron seemed to have exploded into action. He half-ran to the boy pressed on his sister, and with his wand set on the boy's face, began swearing angrily at everyone and nothing in particular. He grabbed the front of the boys shirt and wrenched the boy from Ginny's grasp, glowering at the blond before him with murder in his eyes.
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" His voice was harsh, and if the pitch of it was anything to go by, he was having a bit of trouble controlling his voice. Ginny looked a cross between embarrassed, scared and angry. She shot him a look that could've pierced glass.
"I wasn't doing anything wrong, Ron, and neither was he. For once could you just put a little bit of forethought into your actions instead of just rushing into a, a situation?" She looked like she was about to blow a gasket, stuttering her words and trying to knock Ron's arm off of the shocked and humiliated Ravenclaw boy she had been snogging moments before. Ron's arm wouldn't move, however, and Ginny's protests seemed to make him grip all the tighter on the boy's shirt. The Ravenclaw wasn't even trying to get away, opting for the more intelligent choice of just submitting and waiting for Ron's anger to subside, hopefully with his face and body intact and unhexed. Harry shot him an apologetic look, and the boy just stared blankly at him, wondering why his formally awesome date was going so horribly wrong.
Harry saw the sparks passing from Ginny to Ron, and got the feeling that this was more than just an angry Ron being protective; he didn't think it was appropriate to step in, and though he desperately wanted to say something to try and diffuse the situation, he really didn't know whose side to take, or what to say. He waited to see what would happen, hoping that, perhaps, it would play itself out. Just to be sure, he kept his wand ready in case spells started flying. Ginny's shrill voice pierced his thoughts.
"Don't start throwing yourself around because I'm kissing someone! Just because you're too immature for any sort of real relationship doesn't mean you should go around trying to ruin mine! Maybe you should grow up-" Ron cut her off, seething. His face was flushed.
"Don't you dare put that on me! I'm not the one snogging in the middle hallway- anyone could've been walking past you, and if they saw you, you'd get more of a cheap reputation than you already have. Really, I don't need another stupid person in my dorm asking if you're available, like you're a piece of meat-"
"I wish you would think about someone out side of your selfish mind for a second! I was just helping him with his tie-" Her face went a little red. Harry was all for saving face, but he really didn't think lying to Ron was the best idea in this situation, especially when she had just admitted to kissing the boy. She seemed to realized her err as well, and she shrunk a little, her voice growing slightly weaker as she repeated, "We weren't doing anything wrong."
Ron took his eyes off the Ravenclaw to glare at his sister, who shrugged away a little. "You're a liar." He exhaled harshly after that statement, his nostrils flaring in indignation. There was a little bit of silence after that statement, as secret looks were passed between the siblings. "That's not a big surprise. You have a penchant for lies."
Harry was growing more and more uneasy with the tension filling the room; he could deal with the familiar angry sibling banter, but it was starting to get venomous. It made his skin crawl at how much Ron was acting like Malfoy, staring down his nose at his sister like she was some sort of disease. Even his facial expression; his mouth pulled into a sneer, his eyes glaring and narrowed. Harry wanted to hex Ron on the spot and smack that look right off his face. Not that Ginny was acting any better; her expression steeled to match her brothers, but there was more anger in her eyes than there was smug disdain. It was only Harry's loyalty to Ron that kept him there at all.
"Well, Ron, sometimes adults like to enjoy adult things because they tire from acting like children all the time, but you wouldn't know much about that, would you? I'm just trying to protect your little head from realizing that there's a big bad world out there- one that, obviously, you haven't seen yet. Really, if kissing sends you into such a flurry-" Ginny's voice was full of sarcastic tones, dripping uncontrolled venom.
Ron let the boy go and lowered his wand, which was clutched tight in his hand; his knuckles were white over the smooth wood. The boy, freed, slowly walked away as to not attract attention; he seemed to shrink into the wall as he disappeared down the corridor. He returned Harry's earlier gesture, and shot the older teen an apologetic look before he vanished completely. At least he got to leave; Harry was stuck to watch World War three unfold before him.
Ron laughed at Ginny's words, an empty chuckle that made Harry sick. "It's not kissing that sends me into a flurry, Ginny. It's the fact that my little sister is acting like a trollop in the halls of the school. But, that has nothing to do with the fact that you think you can get away with lying to my face. Really, Ginny? An adult? Adults don't make up stupid stories to cover up what they did. They own up to the fact they made a mistake and take it like a man." An angry, smug smile appeared on his face, one that was mirrored by his sister. The worst part about the spectacle was that they both seemed so smug as they tore into each other; it was just about who could break who first. Harry wondered if this was what it was like watching your parents fight. He almost laughed at that; he didn't get the family, just the angry backlash of a figurative divorce. Nice.
Ron seemed to be winning at any rate. Ginny's smile faded, and she stared at him with eyes full of hate, and what seemed to be the beginning of tears.
"You're right Ron. You do have to step out of the shadows sometimes and actually own up to being a complete fuck up, act like a man instead of a little girl that needs to be protected by everyone else. You should try it sometime." Ron's smile disappeared, and his ears turned a shade of red to match his hair. She noticed his falter, and decided to take it one step further. She walked right up to him, and began speaking right up in his face; she was, of course, much smaller than him, but it had the same effect. Ron shrunk back, looking down at his sister with hate. She poked him in the chest while she spoke. "While you're at it, why don't you pick up some talent and do something with your life? Maybe you can stop being an emotional rock and feel something more than anger and stupi-" She was cut off as Ron grabbed her by the shoulders, and looked like he was about to bite her face off. Harry would've laughed at the sight if he didn't believe that he might have to jinx Ron to keep him from pulverizing her. As soon as Ron grabbed her, though, he let go. Ginny seemed like she was about to wet herself that he dared touch her at all. In actuality, she was lucky Ron didn't flay her (not that it excused his behavior); Harry had seen his best friend lose control from less than what he'd been enduring throughout this entire fight, and the fact that he'd gone this long without punching something was unexpected.
Ron stared at her, his fists shaking. "You're a stupid little parrot. I don't need to explain myself to you." He stood there a while longer. More secret looks were exchanged between the two siblings. They reminded Harry of two bloodied wolves who were torn between killing each other or walking away to lick their wounds somewhere private. The tense silence was broken as Harry dropped his wand. His breath caught as the two Weasley's turned and glared at him. They both saw the alarm on his face, and the tension was thusly shattered. Ron looked at Harry a second longer, and then half-ran up the corridor nearest to them; he had no idea where he was going, but he hoped against all hope that Harry would follow him. Ron could feel his eyes start to burn with tears that he would not allow to fall, and he shoved them back with success. He disappeared around a corner with Harry still on his mind, just then realizing what a complete ass he must've looked like. After a second thought, he realized that he didn't want Harry to follow him at all. He was glad when Harry didn't.
Harry watched his best friend disappear into the random corridor, sick to his stomach. He knew he should have went after him, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to Ron without anger or disgust in his voice. Besides that, as soon as Ron was gone, Ginny burst into hysterical sobs.
"Can we…" Her voice was cracking now, and she seemed to be trying desperately trying to hold it together, failing miserably. "Can we hang out tomorrow? I really need someone to talk to." The sheer desperation in her voice made Harry want to break in two; he really didn't want anything to do with her, and even less so with the way he just watched the two Weasley's treat each other, but he couldn't leave her in such a state of utter unrest.
"Sure, Ginny." He tried to be as sympathetic as possible, but it was hard for him to fake it. He patted her shoulder, and she seemed to have bought the act. "What time you want to meet up?"
She hiccupped at him, and shook her head. Harry felt a little bit of annoyance, just wanted to plan the silly meet-up and have it over with, and tried not to let that pervade his voice. Really, he had no reason to be mad at her, and he was still her friend, even if his main loyalties were with Ron. He owed it to the Weasley family as a whole to be there for them, and if comforting Ginny was the way he could even slightly make up for everything they'd done for him, then he'd do it. Those thoughts made it easier for him to smile at her.
"How about I'll see you about five? We can meet in the common room, and I can take you to the library, or... or somewhere else quiet." She smiled weakly back at him and said yes, her tears subsiding considerably. She stepped towards him and put her arms out as if to hug him, but she stopped short and stood there staring at him awkwardly. He finished what she started, and hugged her. She wrapped his arms around him and hiccupped a few more times, laughing weakly into his shirt and staining it with tears. She let go and wiped her nose on her robes, which she looked at with disgust.
"I look like a mess. I'm sorry, Harry- and thank you." He smiled at him and sort of gave a little laugh that turned into a few more broken sobs. She nodded at him, and he waved as she walked in the direction of the Ravenclaw boy. Harry didn't know if that was on purpose or not; it seemed more by chance than anything, especially because the boy had slipped out so discreetly in the middle of the cross fire. Harry shook his head and rubbed the side of his face with an exasperated sigh. His formally great day was completely destroyed (not that it was much of a surprise to him; luck wouldn't let him have nice things). He walked up to the Gryffindor common room alone, his mood growing worse and worse; he receded into his mind, and by the time he got to the common room, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice Ron staring guiltily at him, like a child that had done something wrong. Ron's heart sunk as Harry walked straight through the room and up the spiral staircase without a glance his way.
Harry, when reaching his room, fell onto the bed with a soft "puff," and suddenly realized how tense he had been while watching his two friends fight. His neck was killing him, and he felt more a little tire both emotionally and physically. He just wanted to go to sleep, and so, he did.