Any appetite Ron could've had simply vanished, and by the time he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, dinner was over anyway. There, once again, sat Harry and Hermione, the warm light of the glistening fire falling upon them, engulfed by their respective books.
Without a warning Ron dropped himself beside Hermione on the worn-out brown couch. His friends both jumped, and two curious expressions, plagued with concern, gazed at Ron.
"Where have you been?!", Hermione shrieked, battering the heavy book against Ron's shoulder.
"Yeah, mate, you missed dinner," Harry chimed in, less dramatically.
"Oh, you won't believe it." Ron's grin widened. He reached for the foreign wand and placed it carefully on the light brown bark of the coffee table before him, then glanced up at his friends' perplexed faces.
After a few seconds, Hermione spoke, "That's not your wand, Ron."
"Course it isn't, my one's right here," he pulled out his long willow one, and shook it demonstratively before slipping it away.
"Then, who's is it?" Harry asked, burning with curiosity.
Ron peered over his shoulder, inspecting the barely occupied room, then leaned in closer, whispering proudly, "Malfoy's".
Harry and Hermione gasped, but tried to keep their composure despite their alarm. The rest of the conversation continued in hushed tones.
"Did you steal it?", Hermione turned to Ron wide-eyed.
"What?! Of course not!", he fell back defensively, "Why would I-"
"Never mind", Harry interrupted him, his eyes glued to the short wand lying on the table. Picking it up, he examined it, but Ron saw little point in that action. Then Harry murmured grimly, "How did you get it?"
"That's the interesting part," he began, concentrating, "I was bursting to go to the loo-"
"Charming, Ronald".
"The boys' bathroom?", came Harry's attentive voice, ignoring her.
"No, the Prefects bathroom. I was nearby. And when I was done, that's when Malfoy came in, Crabbe and Goyle at his side." His friends' immersed expressions stared directly at him, as he proceeded to recall every detail. Then, Ron paused. He knew the way they had reacted to his unlikely friendship with Aria on previous occasions, but it seemed unreasonable to avoid the part that allowed him to get out unharmed.
"So what happened?", Hermione said gently, cutting his train of thought short, placing a soft hand on his knee.
"Aria realised I was gone too long, so she rushed in, disarming Malfoy before he could 'Diffindo' me." Hermione's hand slipped back onto her own leg, and her features turned troubled. She glanced at Harry, who sat pensive in the armchair, then back at Ron.
"You were with Aria?", she asked in a faint but slightly exasperated tone.
"Well…", he decided it wasn't very important, definitely not as important as what he explained he witnessed, "yeah, we were hanging out when I said I wanted to go t-"
"I thought we talked about this, Ron, you should be more careful!" Her voice rose in volume. "Now she's probably suspicious and disturbed about why Malfoy tried to attack you in first place."
"No," he assured her, "she knows exactly what Malfoy is capable of, and she knows Harry finds him suspicious, I just don't understand wh-"
"You told her about Harry's suspicions?!" This time Hermione's yell was way louder than a whisper, but the common room had since become deserted. If before this, Harry remained irritatingly detached, now he was glaring angrily at Ron.
Now that he had blurted that out, it seemed like there was no reason hiding anything anymore.
"It's a little more complicated than that, but I trust her," he replied, his voice remaining calm.
"It seems pretty simple to me", Hermione retorted.
"You don't understand", Ron shook his head. He considered it, knowing exactly the kind of reactions he might get, but he trusted his friends. It had to be said.
"She's like Snape, kind of," Ron uttered, then crinkled his nose realising it wasn't the best way to introduce it.
"What d'you mean?", Harry asked confused.
"She can look into minds, y'know, with Legilimency." Ron's face was quite excited with the prospect of not having to hide this riveting fact from his friends.
Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped to the floor, almost like they were stupefied.
"Are you insane, Ronald!?", Hermione bellowed. "And you still hang out with her?"
"It's fine. She's not mean, she promised she wasn't going to look."
"She promised, did she?", the irritated sarcasm enveloping her words.
"Don't you guys trust me?" Ron questioned as his eyebrows shot up.
"Of course we trust you!", she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Well, I trust her. Trust me on that," he finished, his voice soothingly low.
"You can't just go around telling my secrets to random people!" Harry practically exploded.
"Random people? Random people?!" It was Ron's turn to raise his voice in disbelief at their ignorance. "I've been talking to her nonstop for 3 months now!"
"That's fantastic, Ron. Go ahead and marry her while you're at it!" Hermione barked.
"What does that have to do with anything?", his brows furrowed at her. "You don't even know her!"
"It's not about whether we know her or not! It's about you spilling our secrets right and left! What else have you told her?", Harry roared in rage.
"I haven't told her anything she couldn't have already read in the prophet you prick!"
"Apart from the Malfoy part apparently," Hermione sneered smugly.
"I can't believe you two!", Ron stood up, face red. "I could've been bleeding out in the hospital wing right now if it wasn't for her! But that's not enough of a reason to trust her, is it?"
Hermione frowned gloomily at that, looked down at her hands and kept silent.
"No it's not!", Harry argued back, fiery eyes fueled with hatred, stunning both Ron and Hermione.
Ron nodded sarcastically, and his voice fell to a cool, husky tone, "I haven't properly talked to you in weeks, cause you're always too buried in that mysterious book of yours, or just not there at all. We can trust a random, possibly dangerous, prince, but we can't trust Ron's judgement."
"Well I'm sorry," Harry raised himself up too now, facing Ron, "that some prophecy has chosen me to defeat the darkest wizard of our time!"
"Then why aren't you doing that? Why aren't you trying to get close to Slughorn like Dumbledore ordered you to?" There was an uncomfortable silence.
The terror and disquiet Ron was so carefully suppressing these past few months all rose to the surface like a bubbling cauldron. "You're not the only one with problems, Harry. You think you're the only one who has nightmares? You think I don't lie in bed awake in the middle of the night shivering, thinking that dad, or mum or Fred or George or Bill or Charlie or even Perce for that matter or anyone else who's not safely tucked away at Hogwarts could drop dead and I wouldn't even be able to help?", he swallowed, the terrifying thought stabbing at his brain like a sharp knife," You really think I'll go blabbering about you, knowing it puts everyone in danger?" He paused again, taking a good look at his friends' broken expressions. He turned to Hermione and his heart tore in half, her eyes slightly watery and red, trying to mouth a response but no sound left her lips.
Silence fell over the empty room, and it was louder and more painful than any yells or screams Ron had ever heard.
Before he even knew it, several frosty, bitterly cold weeks had passed, without Ron uttering a word to either Harry or Hermione. He was well aware of how stubborn all three of them could be, and he definitely missed them. So much. It had taken all his self-control to not go and make amends with them himself. He knew he couldn't, or rather shouldn't. It's sitting alone on the icy wooden floor of the dormitory, back pressed firmly against the side of his bed, moon shining brightly high up in the cloudy sky, that he came to the realisation that he was always the one to apologise. To come running back. It was their turn to show that they needed him. Or maybe they didn't, and never did, and he was just fooling himself, happy to be part of something noteworthy.
He shook his head at those thoughts, attempting to physically brush them away. And if they didn't want him, then that was okay too. It really wasn't, but they had the right, he thought.
Besides, coming up to them and apologising would mean admitting that he was wrong, and he didn't think he was. He might've been slightly harsh in the spur of the moment, but he stood by his opinion. Who cares how long he knew Aria? He was ready to defend both Harry and Hermione almost the day he met them.
These thoughts flooded his mind now and then, especially when he would see them, standing far away, staring at him. He wasn't going to lie to himself though, there was something satisfying in discovering who he was, away from the trio.
The first few days after the argument were beyond awkward, unbearable even, in particular when he wasn't able to hang out with Aria, since he was, after all, not used to talking to almost anyone apart from them. Ginny would always sit beside Harry and Hermione, so that wasn't really an option.
Thankfully, his gush of popularity from the spectacular match of Quidditch he played against Slytherin, and hence his reputation as 'king', still hadn't completely simmered out, both among girls and boys. What would've usually been a short exchange of compliments and sorts, in the presence of his two besties, now transformed into lengthy detailed conversations which he thoroughly enjoyed.
That's why, two days into his lone wolf strike, as he entered the discouragingly packed Great Hall for breakfast, fully expecting to sit rather awkwardly on a bench between some random Gryffindors, he was staggered to hear the two Gryffindor beaters, waving at him keenly just a few seats over from Harry and Hermione. It is with them that he had chilled in the common room the night before, discussing with equal levels of enthusiasm and disappointment, the doomed fate of the Chudley Canons in the league. And now, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote pat him on the back as he passed his usual seat, and sat down beside them, a confident grin splattered onto his features.
In a paradoxical turn of events, the more open he became to interacting with previously unknown Gryffindors, the more students would strike up conversations with him, less wary to talk now that he wasn't in the shadow of the Chosen One. It was astounding to him, how many people shook with laughter at his offhand sarcastic comments.
That morning at breakfast, Harry and Hermione's eyes had followed him eagerly as he sat down, gaping at him, like they always did, with faces filled with infuriation, dejection and was it... longing? Regret? He couldn't quite figure it out. And he wasn't about to go stare at them. Quidditch practice would've been similarly uncomfortable, considering Harry was captain, if by then Ron hadn't already established better relationships with most players on the team. All this newfound attention, really helped battle his unfounded insecurities, and he squashed anyone's doubts that his performance during that fateful match was a fluke, the moment he caught a powerful anger fuelled quaffle travelling at what seemed like the speed of light, thrown by none other than his enraged sister.
His social status was improving at an exponential rate, and not only within the tight groups of his own house. Upon being forced to pair up with someone during a Charms lesson - Harry and Hermione quickly teamed up on the other side of the room - Ron found himself in the pleasant company of a fellow prefect, Ernie Macmillan, who shared Ron's newly developed passion for Charms. As a result, Ron was spending almost every period of Professor Flitwick, with Ernie, who ended up introducing him to several other Hufflepuffs during a fun Wizard skittle competition in the study hall, where Ron came second.
By the time December rolled about, Ron would be greeted eagerly by numerous students as he walked along the corridors with a couple of fellow Gryffindors. Several female students still insisted on flirting with him from time to time, but quite frankly, though they were great confidence boosters, he wasn't really interested. Despite this public admiration, he preferred to spend his precious free periods chatting away with Aria, in the dark tucked away corner of the grandiose library, as he laboriously scribbled on his stacks of essays. They had grown much closer, ever since the Malfoy incident, and due to his extended row with his two other close friends, she remained as the only person he could truly confide in.
"You're getting better at those non-verbal spells," she commented as Ron summoned his quill wordlessly. Then she chuckled, "apart from that one time you spilled ink all over your 'Principles of Re-materialisation' essay".
"Shut up", he laughed in mock annoyance, "that took ages to re-write".
"Which makes it even funnier." Ron couldn't stop his lips from turning into a smile. It was true, he was improving. She had once told him to connect with his natural inner magic, and relax. As cheesy as it sounded, it somehow worked.
"What are you planning for Christmas by the way?" Ron asked as he placed his quill down excitedly.
"I don't know, probably just celebrate with my mum as usual. We make this delicious potato pie and just talk, it's nice", she smiled warmly at the thought.
"Well, you're going to be expecting an owl parcel from me, that's for sure." She looked up as he continued to smile cheekily.
"I swear if it's a dungbomb, Ron".
"There goes the surprise," he slammed his hands on the wooden desk sarcastically, earning a skeptical grin from Aria. "It's nothing fancy, just thought I'd get you a little somethin'."
"You can't just say that and expect me not to get excited," she said in an ironically dispassionate tone. "I have something in mind for you too though."
Unlike her, Ron wasn't making the slightest of efforts to hide his child-like joy.
"What is it?!" He was practically jumping in his seat, making the creaky chair shake dangerously.
"Don't break the chair, Ron", she laughed trying her best to remain cool. "You'll see," she concluded cryptically.
Before Ron could interrogate her any further, a familiar freckled face had appeared from behind a tall bookshelf, and begun steadily approaching them.
"Ron! Finally! I was looking for you everywhere. Seamus told me you're probably here", Ginny sighed in exasperation.
"Yeah, just finishing off this essay," he pointed at the almost completely filled piece of yellowish parchment. Even though he often caught his friends' and Ginny's irritated glances, he had remained loyal in discussions about them with others, and didn't plan on being rude if any of them were to speak.
Ginny shook off the slightly skeptical reaction to Ron doing homework, then glanced at Aria, who decided at that point, to reach out her hand in greeting. "Aria," she simply stated.
"Ginny," she responded shaking it reluctantly, as if an emotional conflict was currently occurring in her mind. "Ron's sister".
Now that Ron saw the two of them, it seemed like they would get along great if it wasn't for the elephant in the room. He was sure Harry and Hermione had taken the young Weasley as his replacement, and described the fight to her, from their perspective of course. Aria felt the unnecessary hostility like a gush of cold wind, and chose to turn back to her book.
"Alright then," he attempted to break the tense silence with a positive tone, "what did you want?"
Ginny hesitated, but continued, "Well, I know this whole silent treatment thing is going on between you three, but Harry can still come over for Christmas right?" Her voice was hopeful.
Ron sighed, slightly uneasy at the prospect of keeping up the silent charade even at the Burrow, but gave in anyway, "Yeah sure, he's your friend too, isn't he?". And it was Harry after all, he thought to himself. He wouldn't leave him alone for Christmas whatever the argument. "I don't mind."
Ginny smiled tenderly, surprised by Ron's unexpected rational decision.
Notcing the overly content look on her face, he added, "Don't get too greedy and start bringing your boyfriends over too. Don't want to barf on Christmas morning."
"I would never, you'd just embarrass me. Staring with those vexed eagle eyes when we snog, you'd scare them away."
"That's pathetic, Ron", Aria chimed in, completely amused by the sudden turn in conversation.
"Exactly!", Ginny nodded in frustration. Then, as if forgetting she was supposed to be at odds with Aria, she turned to her, "D'you know that he told a boy that was going to ask me out that I had a big, muscled boyfriend in Albania!"
"You didn't!", Aria turned to look at Ron incredulously.
"In my defense, it was that McLaggen prick. No girl should should get too comfortable around him. He's one of those presumptuous, arrogant, good-looking guys." Ron's voice became more high-pitched than usual in his attempt to explain it. "Spends an hour in front of a mirror just looking at himself."
"Says the guy who decided to part his hair to the other side because some girl said he looked cuter that way once," Aria bounced back, causing both her and Ginny to burst out laughing.
"Oi! That's different!", he yelled, the tips of his ears even redder now. "And I told you that in confidence." But this only caused the girls to crack up even more. Ron however, couldn't control himself either anymore and started giggling too. After some time and a stern look from Madame Pince, they finally calmed down.
"Anyhow," Ginny concluded, "I have to go check with Dean about the Christmas party. You're not going are you?"
"Kind of hard to go if you haven't talked to your date in weeks, isn't it?", Ron mumbled wistfully at the thought of not going with Hermione, an ache he had tried to block out for a while.
"I guess", Ginny nodded.
Once his sister had said goodbye and disappeared out of sight, he leaned in, whispering, "You don't know how much I just want to get this whole row over with. This is like 4th year all over again, but worse."
She looked at him sympathetically. "At least you're more popular now."
He chuckled, "Yeah, that's a bonus. Am I being too stubborn?"
"Honestly, for what it's worth, I think you're taking a good approach here. If you really believe in what you said, and you do," he nodded, "then it's better to stand your ground," she concluded resolutely.
Ron sighed gloomily, but he knew she had a point.
"And I'm sorry by the way… ", this time her cool tone softened slightly, "I know this is technically about me-"
"Don't be sorry," he interrupted assuringly, "it's not about you- I mean it is about you, but you're not the reason for the argument."
"Nicely said".
"Oh you know what I mean," he waved his hand at her dismissively, "it's more about trust you know, more than anything. It stings that they can't trust me for once."
"I think this could actually be a good thing, Harry coming over," she added more cheerily. "Maybe you'll finally talk it out".
"Maybe", he dropped his head onto his forearms, leaning heavily onto the wooden desk.
And now his thoughts spiralled back to his friends. Harry, whom he was now anxious to see over the holidays. And Hermione. He was really planning on making a move at that stupid party. Maybe under the mistletoe or something, or just dancing with her would've been breathtaking. Heck, being in her presence, talking to her, would make him ecstatic. And the gift. Oh, bloody hell. He forgot about the Christmas gift, that he had been working so hard on before their row. It would be awful to just let it go to waste, right? He suddenly became aware of how much he missed them. Maybe he didn't need them. Maybe he could be just fine without them. But he didn't want to.
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one should be the Christmas one. Leave a review to let me know your thoughts, I love to hear them :)