You're always out at night. Either with Hermione or your family. I have no one so I'm always in. I know exactly what time you'll leave and the exact time you'll come back. You're so predictable.

The sound of the whistling kettle reaches my ears from the kitchen and I smile when I remember you insisting we get that exact copper kettle because it was how your mum would make tea.

That's another weakness of yours. Tea. Our cupboards are full of the stuff and I detest it. You'd probably be horrified if you found out your best friend hated the good old English drink but I do. I smile at the kitchen witch hanging above our stove and she winks back. A present from Hermione from her trip to Salem last summer. Ethel the witch. I remember the way your eyes lit up as you opened it and the way your laugh seemed to echo through our then empty flat.

It was a miracle we even got this place, you know? I never did mention that I had a bit of trouble with the landlord. He seemed to think I was slightly odd with my baggy clothes and messy hair. Took a lot of convincing. I love it though. I hear the banging of the door just as I pick up the teacup and make my way to the door.

You're brow is furrowed and I can tell that this particular date didn't go well. We all had a bit of trouble when you and Hermione started going out. You started to ignore me and I stopped talking. Stopped going out. You were both so happy and I didn't want to ruin it. I was lonely but then the Flying Incident happened. The one where I got hit in the head with the bludger just as I caught the snitch. Remember? I woke up two weeks later and you were sitting by my bed in the infirmary. Without Hermione. We talked then. You said that you were afraid that you could have lost me and you started crying. So did I. You said you'd been a bad friend and we talked things out. Anyway, you look so angry just now so I hand you your tea, without being sick, I'm used to the smell now, with a questioning look and I sit in my chair.

You give me a grateful look and flop into your own comfy, over stuffed armchair. Tea has that effect. You told me that once.

"I can't believe her," your voice is filled with suppressed rage, "She said that I obviously didn't care about her enough to do anything with my appearance."

I look over your red ruffled hair and slightly creased t-shirt. You don't look that bad to me but I don't go out with you. I stay silent, as usual, letting you finish your little rant.

"She also said that we don't see each other enough and that I spend too much time at work." You place your cup on the coffee table and sit back.

Work is Fred and George's joke shop where you work part-time so you can pay your way through university and contribute to the rent. And Hermione knows this. What Hermione really means is that you spend way too much time with me. I'm slightly angered with the comment though so I decide to break my silence.

"You see her almost every night though. Sometimes during the day too. I never see her and she is supposed to be one of my best friends. Did you tell her that?"

You close your blue eyes and run a hand down your face. Your posture screams tiredness and I feel sorry for you. You need to get some sleep.

"Yeah. I even said that you miss her," this is very true, "and that you wish that you had never grown apart," also true, "and that you don't even know how it happened," definitely not true. I know exactly why. I was too quiet and we never talked. Then she found my diary. She read it by accident but found out a lot. Something to do with you too. I'm snapped out of my thoughts by your voice saying, ".. said that although she wished that too, it happened and nothing could fix it. She said that she didn't know why I moved in with you and that I should move in with her..."

Silence. I knew that she felt this way but to hear you, my best friend, her boyfriend, say it like this hurts. I don't know what to say. I know you love her but you're my best friend and I...

If I say that I wouldn't mind and that you could if you wanted to, you'd think that I wanted rid of you. Certainly not true.

If I say no, that you definitely shouldn't, you'd either think I was being unfair towards her and be feeling sorry for myself or that I was being selfish.

You should decide and I tell you this, "Why don't you sleep on it?" You nod gratefully. You smile that cheesy grin I've come to actually sensing when it's about to happen and your sapphire eyes light up.

"You always know what to do. What to say." I can tell your thinking how close and how many times I've come to death and that you could've lost me.

I stand up, as do you. I pick up the cup and head to the kitchen, fighting tears. It's great how taking drama at university helps you keep your emotions in check in front of people.

"Harry?" I turn to face you. You're smiling appreciatively and my resolve almost falters. I want to beg you to stay. I can usually tell what you're going to do but this time, I have no idea. "Thanks. For listening. And the tea."

I smile sadly, "No problem Ron. No problem."

You walk over to your door and when I hear the click of the lock I let my guard slip and I close my eyes. I can feel hot tears slipping down my cheeks. I lift my glasses to wipe them away.

I hate Hermione for doing this to you. To me.

You're my best friend. My roommate. My companion. My love.

I feel the hot water on my hands as I wash the cup. I feel the wood of the cupboard door. I remember you running your hand over it and smiling, remembering home.

You deserve better than her. Better than me. You're the most important thing in my life. The Tri-wizard Tournament should have told you that.

I only want you to be happy. You'll never love me the way I love you.

Choose her, please. Choose her because I love you.