The Sorting Ceremony

By: Dani-ko

Beta: MrsHellman

The Great Hall looked like it always had.

The four Houses' banners still wavered without wind, the Head Table was set for the teachers and hundreds of students were making their way to their respective table. Diligent educators waited for the children to occupy their places with indulgent smiles on their faces. There was no sky, though. It was just a normal ceiling and it was ridiculous, but it was that which bothered Harry more than any of the other things in the Hall. The absence of the sky sort of remembered them all of the people they had lost – it reminded Harry of Dumbledore. Faceless students were a mourned loss, but Dumbledore . . . Harry shook his head . . . it hurt.

"Potter," Draco drawled behind Harry. "You've been standing in the doorway for about five minutes, and as much as people would not lift a finger against you, I'm kind of an open target in here and I believe I saw some Gryffindors draw their wands―"

"What?" Harry interrupted. Draco was not making much sense, anyway. The blonde seemed to understand that his remarkably amusing humour was falling into deaf ears, because he rephrased his advice.

"Potter, we have to sit down," he stressed. Harry looked at him and nodded; he motioned to the Gryffindor table, but a hand on his elbow stopped him. He looked up to see Draco's concerned face hovering a short distance from his own. "Are you alright?" Harry gave him a weak smile.

"It's just very weird," he explained. Draco nodded in agreement. There were frantic movements around them, from students running to meet each other and friends looking for one another. They were ignored as all of this occurred.

"Still, we have to sit," Draco said, but he seemed reluctant to do so. "See you after dinner?"

"Yes, please. Wait for me at the door, okay?"

"Hmm-um," the blond agreed as he smirked. "Or you wait for me. I still believe I'm going to get out of here in a stretcher." Harry chuckled and smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Don't jinx it!" he joked and Draco laughed.

"Right, but if someone attacks me, you have to defend my honour."

"Deal," Harry agreed half-heartedly, while rolling his eyes in exasperation. They sobered rather quickly though when their surroundings caught up with them. "Right, I'm going now," the raven mumbled and using all of his Gryffindor courage, he kept on walking through the gaping crowd.

Draco stood there watching him for a moment, before turning around and striding to the Slytherin table. He sat down next to Blaise, who was in front of Theo. To his left side, all the seats were free to receive the new students. Draco wondered if he could frighten them into returning home that very same night, but he suspected that Harry and Granger would not approve of it.

"Draco, is it just me or you have a crush on the little lion?" Theo asked and Draco jumped startled at being addressed so abruptly. Then he processed the question and it took all of his pureblood genes to stop him from shying away from the question due to embarrassment.

"Bugger off, Theo!" he hissed calmly, deciding that it was a much more elegant way to dismiss the subject than sputter nonsense and blush brightly. Theo chuckled. Even if in the latest years they had been in opposite sides of the war, they had been friends since childhood and Theo still knew Draco very well.

"I always knew you were a feline in heart," the brown-haired boy continued as if Draco hadn't spoken. "You were always too pretty to be a reptile."

"I think Potter is a kitten," Blaise said, pretending to be thinking about it and then he smirked. "What did you do to get him on top of you like he was on the train?" Draco saw red at the innuendo and at the accusation that he had tricked Harry into something.

"Talk about him like that again, Zabini and you will regret it," Draco snarled with as much detachment as he could muster – which was close to none. Theo and Blaise looked slightly thrown off balance at Draco's fierce possessiveness – very out of character for the cold Slytherin – but then smiled meaningfully at each other and high-five'd. Understanding that he had given them the assurance they wanted, Draco glared and the other two laughed harder. "I hate you."

"But you're better off with us than with Pansy and that brainless pair," Theo retorted right away, still shaking with laughter.

To that, Draco had no answer. Theo had been unstoppable trying to convince Draco that he would side with the Dark side when the time came, but Draco hadn't listened. While Theo never cared for his father's pride, Draco did . . . and what had that got him? Hateful stares and sneering comments. Even Blaise, who was a discriminatory tyrant, had been against the genocide that the Dark Lord had brought. Of course that, to the Malfoys, the prospect of power had been too great to ignore. A mistake they would carry with them forever.

"Yes, I guess I am," the blonde said, at last. "And sometimes, Harry really is a kitten," he added, smirking amiably. The three of them exchanged knowing glances. Then, Theo sobered.

"I meant what I said, Draco," he assured. "No more schemes, because we won't cover you for them―"

"Like he," he pointed Harry with his head, "would allow me to get very far if I had something on my sleeve," Draco retorted, bitterly – too bitterly for Theo and Blaise to ignore.

"Why, Draco, I believe love has changed you," Theo said, in mock dramatics and Draco smirked.

"No, it just re-sorted my priorities," the blonde mused aloud. Theo and Blaise blinked; neither had expected Draco to be so blunt about his liaison to the other boy.

"He's straight?" Blaise asked, accurately interpreting Draco's bitterness. The blonde nodded as a response, but Theo waved his hand.

"Of course he's not," he told them. Seeing their doubtful expressions, the boy elaborated. "At least, not completely; no straight man would cuddle with another man like he was cuddling with you, Blondie. Maybe the most confident and sensitive of us can hug and even walk with our arms around each other some from reason, but cuddle? I doubt it and I'm willing to bet my collection of stamps on it," he finished triumphantly.

"Theo, darling; nobody wants your collection of stamps," Blaise reminded him, gently. Theo moved away from the dark-skinned wizard.

"Do not call me darling, it freaks me out," he replied warily. Draco laughed and soon the other two joined him.

"So, Draco, how do you plan to persuade him?" Blaise asked. Draco shrugged.

"I don't want to risk his friendship," he explained.

After a lot of 'Aww's from Theo, Blaise finally manage to coerce Draco into accepting their help. They started to plot happily and Draco was feeling pretty good to just listen to his friends.

~*~

Harry reached the Gryffindor table – by dodging gawking students – and sat himself down on the right side of Hermione; Ron and Neville sat in front of them, respectively. Ginny was sitting on Harry's right side, trying to make Dean Thomas leave her alone, but the boy was insistent in his attentions. Unable to help himself, the raven gazed at the Slytherin table.

Draco was sitting right in front of him. The blond chose that exact moment to look up; their eyes locked and the blonde raised a hand at Harry, flashing him a very small smile. Harry blushed brightly and cleared his throat to dismiss the embarrassment of getting this flushed – and thrilled – when Draco smiled just for him; he returned the gesture. Draco let his gaze linger for a moment, but then looked away and continued his conversation with Nott and Zabini.

Harry felt a pang of jealousy shot through him and it was with annoyance that he let his mind wander back to his earlier issues – Draco and Harry's possible crush on him. Well, truth be told, the concept of being with a boy in a romantic fashion did not bother him – after all, the Dursleys always claimed proudly to be homophobes, so Harry reasoned that if they were against it, it was probably okay. Although Harry had to agree that he had never ever looked at a boy in a less than platonic way; not only had he been too busy to truly explore his sexuality, as – let's face it – being with a girl was far easier, since heterosexual women were more abundant than homosexual men. In fact, if he did like Draco, it would arouse many issues regarding the blonde and the nature of their relationship.

Harry fought back a frustrated groan and his attention was brought back towards his friends by the sound of Hermione's voice. Apparently, his housemates were having a very stimulating conversation over the fact that Tonks was their new Transfiguration teacher. Harry frowned; that was news to him. As a reflex, he gazed up at the Head Table and, sure enough, there they were; Tonks and Remus, Transfiguration and DADA teachers, respectively.

"She is a Metamorphmagus after all," Seamus was saying. "I reckon she will know what she's talking about."

"It's going to be so cool," Ron put in, excitedly; he had always liked Tonks a lot. Ginny nodded enthusiastically, while Hermione just smiled scornfully at their antics.

Once the newlywed couple noticed Harry's surprised gaze, they waved at him, amused at his lack of attention. Well, Remus was amused by other things as well, such as the fact that Harry was sending longing glances towards the Slytherin table, when he thought that nobody was looking – which gave the werewolf a very accurate idea on what was happening between both boys. Perhaps, he ought to have a serious conversation with Harry.

Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress, stood up and, immediately, silence fell over the Great Hall. It was far from being the devoted respect people had had for Dumbledore, but she was – without a doubt – someone the students appreciated and trusted very much.

"Welcome, dear students, to another year at Hogwarts," she began sombrely, "Although before we indulge ourselves in some well-deserved idleness, I would like to say a few words." McGonagall cleared her throat and Harry realised that this would be a difficult subject for her. "We lost another Headmaster in a span of a two year period. I'm sure you all remember Professor Snape―"

'Big understatement,' Harry thought bitterly.

"―he was not understood or cared for by most of you, but he was a hero nonetheless and he did his best to protect the students during the previous year. I must confess myself as wrong, as many of you and – even though it's not enough – I find myself regretting many of the things I did and said to him. We all ought to learn from our mistakes and not to judge someone when it's not our place to do so." Her voice broke and she looked down to gather her strength once more. "I was preceded to this position by two brave and brilliant men and I can only hope I can be at their level in taking care of Hogwarts," she paused, "I expect you to trust me and I shall do my best to assure that your magical and personal education give you good support for your future life."

The student body broke into applause as everyone saw McGonagall briskly clean her tears to her napkin. She smiled reassuringly at them.

"It must be overwhelming for her to be sitting in that seat," Hermione whispered in Harry's hear.

"Yeah," he agreed and returned his gaze at his old Transfiguration teacher; because she was more than just worthy of his respect and admiration, for someone so old and so strict, Minerva McGonagall was a frightening warrior and a powerful ally, and Harry would never forget that.

"All of you know what we've been up against," the Headmistress continued. That was when Harry realised why she was giving her speech before the sorting: she did not wish for the Muggleborn to be given biased versions of last year's events, without pleading first to their sense of fairness. "It was trying and certainly there were moments of despair, but we triumphed and, from here on, we shall build our future together. Thank you." This time the applause was thunderous. Harry shared a meaningful smile with Hermione. Neither notice Ron's glare.

The Headmistress then introduced the new members of the staff and demanded a standing ovation for their new teachers, who were nothing apart from war heroes; even Hagrid got one. Nobody would forget the fierceness Hagrid fought with for Hogwarts and to protect its students. At last, she gestured to the little man by her side and addressed her students.

"May the sorting begin," she said.

Professor Flitwick, as the Deputy Headmaster, brought the Sorting Hat and, drawing his wand, conjured a three legged bench; waving his hands excitedly, much to the amusement of the other students and teachers, he managed to make himself heard and lined up the first-year students, all pale and fidgety, expecting to be fighting Trolls and answering strange quizzes. Every year they fell for the same stories. One could easily guess who the Muggleborn were by the frightened glances they were throwing at the little teacher.

The Sorting Hat began his song. It spoke of unity and forgiveness and of how Hogwarts should and would not be tarnished with hatred and prejudice. It spoke of the Houses' qualities and defects and how they compensate each other's flaws. It reminded Harry of the first song he heard and that soothed him somehow.

The first student to be sorted belonged to Hufflepuff. The standard applause and cheering followed the girl as she motioned to her table. Immediately, the Perfects introduced themselves and made her feel at home. The second one was a strawberry blonde girl, with hazelnut-coloured eyes; she stood up straight and reached for the Hat proudly and confidently, walking briskly until she stood in front of the room, sat down in the bench and put the Hat on her head. It took a moment, the girl bit her lip nervously and the moment stretched longer―

"Slytherin!" the Hat shouted at last.

'Well, obviously,' Harry thought. He began to applaud – a bit half-heartedly, because his mind was still locked on the blonde belonging to that same House – until he saw the pretty girl flinch, blanch and she seemed to shrink in her shoes; she moved quickly to her new House table. Harry frowned in confusion, until he let his mind focus on his surroundings . . . the other three Houses were jeering at the poor girl!

Shock struck him speechless at this atrocious display happening in his beloved sanctuary, even after McGonagall's words and the Hat's song. The hypocrisy of it all revolted him. The young girl, Victoria Daniels, practically ran the rest of the path to her table. Harry looked up at the Slytherin table and saw the proud people hunched and looking at each other understandingly; Harry could not believe that the Slytherins, who were up against all the three other Houses so often, had taken the blow silently this time.

"They are just children, Harry," Hermione said when she notice Harry's angered expression.

Draco patted Victoria's head gently when she sat in front of him and spoke encouraging words to her. Suddenly, Harry felt a rush of pride for letting go of his prejudice towards Slytherin and for being considered a friend by such a person; he smiled proudly. Right or wrong, Slytherins protected their own.

"So were we, Mione," Ron replied, with a sickened scowl upon his face as he looked at his classmates. Neville agreed with them as well. Hermione sighed, knowing she would never make them understand. Then the noise subsided.

At the Head Table, the teachers stood stiff and, while some of them looked disapprovingly at their students, others smiled sadly, knowing that this hatred was not their creation, but their born from the suffering and despair of the previous year. These public displays of hatred and prejudice had happen in the Wiz. War I, as well. Not one of the teens noticed their teachers' reactions, so lost they were discriminating one another.

Harry hated it. It was against everything he had fought for, against everything his friends had died for.

McGonagall signalled Flitwick to stop the sorting. The third student froze mid-step, looking at everyone with undisguised curiosity and his mouth slightly agape; he obliviously did not understand what was happening. Muggleborn he was, then . . . and judging by his lack of tact, probably a Gryffindor. The Headmistress stood up with her face being unreadable.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began in that strict, dry tone of hers, with her lips pinched together and a disapproving stare focussed on the students. "This occurrence will not repeat itself," she stated firmly. The students grumbled, but everyone knew they would not defy the Headmistress.

Flitwick motioned the boy next to him to take the seat and be sorted. Sure enough, as soon as the Hat touched the boy's head, it shouted the expected result.

"Gryffindor!" Harry applauded and cheered with his housemates, but refrained from greeting the new student, since he would probably be updated about Harry's identity soon enough.

The following boy was deemed to be a Slytherin. Even though nobody jeered at him, nobody applauded as well; the Slytherin boy, William Mewridge, glared at his classmates and strode proudly to his table. Harry felt sorry for the boy – entering Hogwarts was a unique experience and missing the wonder of the sorting was unacceptable. He bit his lower lip; he wanted to applaud the boy, but if he did, all the attentions would focus once again on him and he had been trying to avoid that. Begrudgingly, he made his decision.

Swiftly and loudly, Harry pushed the bench back and stood up; he walked around his table, moving towards the other side of the Great Hall, towards the Slytherin table. Silence reigned over. Harry ignored it and kept walking, hands balled into fists and moving in a steady stride, glaring at everyone who dared to look at him questioningly . . . he felt his stomach lurch at the look of pure delight in Draco's eyes as he approached the end of the table; he slumped himself in the seat next to Draco.

All the Slytherins were looking at him aghast and he didn't dare to look up at the rest of the students, let alone any of the teachers. The silence had given place to harried chatter.

"Potter," Draco said softly. Harry refused to meet his eyes and fought down the blush that was spreading through his cheeks.

"You asked me to defend your honour, right?" Harry replied hesitantly. Draco's eyes glinted with pleasure; he had hoped Harry would take the Slytherins' side over the rest of the school, but he had to convey that having Harry taking Draco's side over the rest of the school was something taken from his wildest dreams. The two first-years sat in front of them, poorly concealing their interest in the interaction between the two wizards.

"Indeed I did," Draco conceded, still in a blissful haze, where only Harry mattered. "Though I did not expect you to actually mount that white charge of yours and―"

"Aww!" Theo interrupted, cooing girlishly as Blaise rolled his eyes. "Did you hear that Blaise? Maid Draco is showing his appreciation to his 'knight-in-a-shinning-armour'."

"Why don't you mind your own business, Nott?" Harry snapped, turning fiery eyes at the teen and leaning over Draco to hiss at Theo; who did Nott think he was, talking about Draco and Harry as he saw fit? Draco felt himself grown hot at Harry's possessive display; he placed his hand in the end of Harry's back and the raven-haired teen leaned back, somehow calmer and cooler. Suddenly, Theo looked like a child in a candy store.

"Oh, my goodness!" he exclaimed, delighted. "So much lov―"

"Nott!"

"Theo!"

They stared at each other for a moment – Theo doing so quite eagerly. Draco cleared his throat, shook his head apologetically and then ignored the brunette. Harry turned away, trying to hide his twitching mouth and the embarrassing blush that had taken place on his face lastingly – if only Draco moved that damned hand . . .

Both Harry and Draco leaned back in their seats, and neither notice when Blaise mouthed 'kitten' to Theo; they grinned not-so-apologetically at Draco – who glared warningly in return, knowing full well that it could not be good. Blaise chuckled and Theo joined him shortly after, high-five'ing above the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the two first years look at him as if they wanted to say something; he decided to indulge them – and distract himself from the elegant hand that was drawing calming circles just above his . . . well, one can get the picture knowing just that.

"Yes?" he drawled, shifting his gaze to the two pre-teens. The boy bit his lip, assessing what he was about to say next.

"Is your presence r-required because we're Slytherins?"

For a moment there, Harry had a déjà-vu of a younger Draco Malfoy saying "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." He cleared his throat and decided to answer, because he could tell that the boy was not mocking him – even if William was trying to appear aloof, his eyes were betraying him and he had choked on his words.

"Of course not," he retorted, snappishly. "That's silly. I just don't think it's fair that they—" he gestured to the rest of the Hall, "—are prejudicing you for something you didn't do."

"What he means," Draco interrupted, playing with his fork nonchalantly, "is that he is here because he likes me." Even blushing ten shades of red, Harry managed to muster a glare – all and all, he was proud of himself for that. Then, he faced the two first-years again.

"Malfoy is being stupid," Harry replied, talking more for the blonde than for anyone else. "But the fact is that Hogwarts would not have let you come here if it had sensed any ill-intention in you." During his speech, he could not help but to glance at Draco, who hmm'ed embarrassingly in return. Harry had no scientific base to affirm that, though he knew it was true. "Which means these people are stupid," he continued and his dashing eyes glared around at his classmates. "Who do they think they are, making people feel bad about themselves?" By now, he was talking more to himself than to others.

"They lost people they cared about, while fighting by your side, Harry," Draco reminded him, coolly. Neither Theo nor Blaise intervened, since they understood the importance of what was being discussed, and let the others talk freely about the subject.

"Then, they should know that not a single one of the people present here was fighting on the other side―" he interrupted himself abruptly, realising that he was missing an important point. Draco had been there, fighting for the Dark side. The blonde tensed and drew back, almost immediately.

"Malfoy was with him, wasn't he?" William asked, paling slightly. Victoria was listening carefully. The seven-years' silence was an answer in itself. Harry looked at them fully in the eyes.

"As for the ones left, I'm ready to stand up for them," Harry told them, successfully ending the subject – or so he thought.

"I appreciate it, Potter," Draco replied and it meant more than just the honest significance of the words; it hinted at absolution.

An awkward silence fell among them―

"Harry Potter, Harry Potter!" came the shrieking voice of another pre-teen, this one a brunette with brown eyes, who had just been sorted into Slytherin. The girl appeared to realise that her behaviour was very unbecoming because she paused, collected herself and sat down beside Harry, turning curious eyes towards the raven. "Is it true that you fought a Basilisk when you were only twelve?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise – at least, she broke the uncomfortable mood.

"How do you know―" he stopped and took a deep breath, successfully stopping himself from lashing at her. "Yes, in the Chamber of Secrets," he answered, then narrowed his eyes at the brunette. "How do you know about that?" Jane Morrison, that was her name, had enough hindsight to blush and look embarrassed.

"It's in your biography," she replied. Now, Harry was pretty sure he had not published his biography or sold his rights to any author. "It's called 'Our Golden Hero' and it's a collectable article from Witch Weekly." The raven-haired teen glanced at the Gryffindor table, searching for Hermione, but she was busy whispering hurriedly at Ron, probably placating the consequences of Harry's impulsive action . . . again. Planning on speaking with her later on, he returned his attention to the Slytherins.

"Rita Skeeter is the author, isn't she?" Jane's eyes widened in wonder. Draco and Blaise scowled at the worshipping girl, while Theo nagged about something stupid.

"Are you a Legilimens?" she asked fearfully. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, I just know that – er, lady – too well."

"Why do I get the feeling she will regret messing with you, Potter?" the blonde asked and Harry grinned at him, amused by Draco's wariness.

"Not with me," Harry explained, "but with Mione."

"She has a nasty right hook," Theo reminded them, shuddering, not as much as Draco did though.

"Poor Rita," Blaise said airily and took a piece of bread from the basket that filled with food in that moment.

~*~

After the Welcoming Fest, Harry and Draco lingered outside the Great Hall, even after most of the students being already gone.

"So," Draco started, pulling Harry to the side by the wrist and standing right in front of him, aligning his body with Harry's. There was something fierce shinning in Draco's eyes – just like when he used to challenge Harry in their early years – as if he was gathering his courage and letting go of his inborn caution to do something he might regret, but was willing to take the risk.

"So?" Harry prompted, looking up at the blonde and Draco took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Harry," he said simply, "It means more to me than you'll ever know, what you did in there. You stood up for me as well as the rest of the students in Slytherin, but you also showed the people in there that you don't care about prejudice." Harry smiled gently; he had never thought he was capable of showing such tenderness when dealing with someone – anyone – he cared for; he buried his hands inside his pockets in an attempt to keep them to himself.

"That's okay," he replied and looked out of the window – anywhere but the blonde's unguarded gray eyes. "That's what friends do."

Draco chose not to answer and moved closer to the younger teen; Harry did not move back and they stood so close to each other that they could feel each other's body heat. Green eyes looked up at Draco and the blonde's breath caught in his throat at such dashing sight; he wanted to be closer. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and squeezed lightly, as if asking permission to move on. Harry tensed up, but he did not move and his cheeks tinged pink. That was an invitation if one was ever issued.

Draco ignored the cautious voice in his head that told him not to push it and swiftly pulled Harry against his chest, holding him as close as he could; two strong arms shot forward and encircled his waist, as Harry returned the embrace, resting his chin on the blonde's shoulder, deepening the contact. While they tensed awkwardly at first, soon enough their bodies relaxed and they melted into each other, just standing there.

For the second time in his life, Harry felt the time diffuse and lost meaning. It may have been a few minutes or several days full of happiness as they embraced, since such things as time didn't matter in each other's arms. Both boys felt a deep, intrinsic satisfaction by touching the other, the yearning that had been present in the back of their hearts since their stay at Hog's Head Inn was almost satiated. They could feel magic soaring in the empty hall of the castle as the ritual was finally completed.

Neither realised what that meant.

Finally, they pulled apart, with pink cheeks and shiny eyes. They smiled at each other and their smile was the smile of lovers.

"You really are thankful," Harry comment, more to disband the self-consciousness that came upon them as Harry's mind caught up with his body; as he actually believed it was all appreciation.

"No, I just like touching you," Draco replied in a haze – his mind caught up with his mouth and he snapped it shut. They stared at each other in shocked stillness, until Draco moved. He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and hugged him again. "It feels good to touch someone just for the pleasure of it, doesn't it?" Harry hesitantly reached forward again to return the touch.

"I'd never hugged anyone before Hogwarts and for a long time it was only Hermione who did it," Harry confessed. The blonde nodded and slowly massaged the raven's shoulders. Then, he did something that neither expected him to do―

Draco pressed his lips against Harry's forehead.

Two sets of eyes drifted closed at the contact. It was so much more intimate than the moments when they had held each other before, because it meant a whole new set of things. They could smell each other; feel the heat of each other's body, soft skin and firm muscles under their hands. It was nothing like holding a girl and later they would frown in confusion as to why such comparison was even made. They pulled apart.

Harry's forehead was burning where Draco's lips had touched, his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. Draco couldn't help but to lick his lips at the look of pure delight in Harry's features; he could guess he looked about the same. At last, dark lashes fluttered open and the green eyes widened in surprise as reality hit Harry.

"I―" Harry began, then interrupted himself when he realised that he didn't quite know what to say.

"Yes, we should go to bed," Draco suggested, since he also didn't know what to do. With a last squeeze on Harry's shoulders, both teens moved apart and motioned to opposite sides of the castle.

~*~

Harry walked dreamily to the Gryffindor Tower; he took his usual path and trusted his feet to take him there, while he let his mind wander through the night's events.

As he was passing an old Charms classroom, he registered some angry voices coming from the inside. Dismissing it as a lovers' quarrel, he motioned to continue his path, but something in his mind was telling him to stop and listen. That's when he noticed that he knew those voices much too well, since they belonged to his two best friends. He thought that he probably should leave Ron and Hermione to sort out whatever issues they were having, when his own name sounded in the hallway.

Harry approached the room, intending on preventing Ron from saying something he would regret later, only to stop in the doorway as something in his oldest friend's voice made him sound so broken that it touched Harry deeply.

"I understand, Ron―"

Harry moved further into the room and hid in the shadows. He could see Ron pacing back and forth in front of the teacher's desk, while Hermione sat in the front desk, twisting her hands in her lap, obviously anguished by her boyfriend behaviour. Ron sounded so angry, so hurt and so lost that Harry found himself at a loss of what to do, so he decided to listen further. The red-headed stopped in front of the girl and turned his angry eyes at her.

"No, you don't!" he interrupted abruptly. "Nobody does. Harry likes you, he wrote to you in the summer, he trusts you always, and he tells you everything! Where do that leave me!?"

"Ron, Harry would never replace you with Malfoy―"

"It sure doesn't look like it!" Ron resumed his pacing, running a hand through his hair.

"Ron, Harry doesn't hate you. Nobody hates you. He is not angry with you for leaving us in the forest, I swear. He just doesn't know what he can tell you that won't make you angry with him again. He doesn't want to lose you again," Hermione explained soothingly. Ron closed his eyes violently, as if the fact that he was feeling his eyes burn and his throat constrict made him angrier. He was a man, damn it. Hermione motioned to get up, but then thought better about it and re-took her place.

"Yes, and now he trusts Malfoy the best―"

"Ron," Hermione sternly interrupted, finally getting up and pulling Ron against her in a fierce embrace. "We all love you; your family, Harry and I. I promise you that." Ron returned the embrace and buried his head in Hermione's shoulder, trusting his girlfriend to give him support. Harry found himself getting jealous of them, because they could freely display their affection for each other. Harry wanted that very much.

"Nobody cares," came the muffled reply. Then, Ron's anger returned and he pushed Hermione away – gently, Harry noticed – and then he started pacing again, cracking his knuckles angrily. "After he disappeared, the only thing everyone could think about was 'where is Harry?' and 'is he okay?' Well, George and I were also there and we were suffering, too. Harry chose to leave and you lot left us!"

"R-Ron," the brunette sobbed sadly, but her boyfriend didn't hear her. Hermione started to cry softly, sad beyond words at Ron's grief.

"I'm so fucking tired! I lost my brother, my mother is crazy and Harry is all you care about!" he shouted pointing an accusing finger at Hermione, not caring about the tears that were gathering in his eyes. "I don't even have my best friend to talk to, because the only thing he cares about these days is Draco sodding Malfoy!" Harry gasped at the accusation.

"Ron." Both Ron and Hermione went still and silent at the sound of Harry's voice. Ron turned his back on Harry and cleaned his tears hurriedly, while Hermione looked at Harry pleadingly, prompting him to make everything alright again.

"Harry, mate, I―"

"I heard enough," Harry interrupted; his voice tight with sadness and guilt. Ron tensed, apparently thinking that Harry was about to shout at him or hex him; Harry swallowed thickly and spoke in a much softer tone, "Come on, Ron, you don't really believe those things you said, do you?"

"I don't want you to think I'm mad at you, mate―" the red-headed started and the fear of losing his friend was clear in his voice. Ron had lost a brother and it was a brother too much; he didn't want to lose someone else close to him.

Harry interrupted him.

"Of course you are!" he exclaimed. "You're angry because I left you when you needed me. I'm sorry, I told you that already. I thought Hermione would be enough for you, but I kind of forgot that she is more than a friend now and things are different." Ron slumped against the desk, supported by his arms only, and said nothing. Harry continued, "It's just – you know, I'm not your family. I can't be there in your house and pretend than none of it was my fault," Harry explained quietly; he moved forward into the room and stood right behind Ron. He put a hand on the other's shoulder. "Malfoy could never replace you, you know?" Ron didn't look back, but he placed his hand on top of Harry's.

"Yeah, I know," he said, after a moment. "It's just that sometimes everything gets too much and," he shrugged, "you know." Harry did know; he understood very well what it was like to feel like you were left behind by all of the people you loved. "I was jealous of whoever had your attention," Ron admitted, embarrassed. "I really think of you as a brother and I am thankful with you helping mum and everything. I think that sometimes we should do something for you, too, and that you could get tired of us; of giving."

"I think I am still a bit awkward with this whole 'having-a-family' thing, yeah?" Harry replied, soothingly. "But, hey, I'm guessing brothers argue a lot, right?" Ron snorted, finally turning around to face Harry.

"That's an understatement," he retorted. They smiled tentatively at each other. Ron groaned and closed his eyes at something that he just realised. "I can't believe I was jealous of Malfoy."

"I kind of agree with that," Harry teased. Ron gave him a half-smile, but it was transitory and he looked at Harry hesitantly.

"Come on, spill it," the raven prompted. Ron looked straight into Harry's eyes and said somewhat apologetically.

"You know I get jealous a lot," Ron reminded him.

Harry burst out laughing and pulled Ron into a hug. After a moment of tenseness, Ron returned it; Hermione's put their arms around them both. Harry felt warm and happy and thought that – considering his life story – he was actually pretty lucky. It took him a moment to realise that he was getting more affectionate with his friends and the thought didn't bother him one bit. It meant he was willing trust his heart and soul with the people he cared about, not just his life.

After all, if one trusted one's feelings and deepest spirit, one may get hurt beyond repair, but dying . . . death was just a ritual of passage.

"You and Malfoy have more in common than you realise," Harry said, breaking the embrace. Just like that, everything was alright again. "And don't feel like you can't talk to me about anything, okay?" he reminded his friends, as he held his closed fist out to Ron.

"Okay, mate," Ron replied and bumped their closed fists together. Hermione, who had her sobs controlled by now, smiled brightly at them both and then nodded at Harry in reply. She conjured a tissue and cleaned her tears and nose; she managed to muster a glare.

"You guys are going to be death of me," the girl said, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Considering how many times we fight, I have no doubt," Ron replied, kissing her cheek and encircling her shoulders with one arm. Harry grinned and held out his arm, which she took.

"Cheers to that," he said and they walked out of the classroom together – having to move sideways to pass through the door, which made Hermione giggle helplessly – and headed towards the Gryffindor Tower.