A/N: I just realised I accidentally marked this story as complete! It's not. I'm not exactly sure where or how long this will end up, but it's still going.

Also, thank you again to half fare prince for your lovely review.

Yelling reverberates through the house, its anger seeping into every little nook and cranny. Hiding away in his bedroom like the coward Voldemort once insisted he was, Harry merely plays with the Snitch the twins bought him as a graduation present as he waits for it to end. As much as he hates it, fleeing at the first sign of an argument has become normal for him. It has become so commonplace that he's starting to feel like the kid whose parents are on the brink of divorce; he wishes he could just stick his head in the sand and pretend that nothing's wrong, but he can't ignore the issues building up around him. However much Ron and Hermione might love one another, their relationship is the most explosive thing he has ever seen. The littlest things can set them off, leaving Harry to scramble out of the way lest he be caught in their crossfire. He keeps thinking they'll get better with time, but it's just becoming worse and more frequent as the tension accumulates.

At least Teddy's with Andromeda today, he thinks. Harry usually casts privacy charms before taking his godson away to a quiet room to wait it out, but it's much easier to endure the fighting when it doesn't make him question the kind of example they're setting for the young boy.

Plus, Teddy's absence means that Harry can forgo the charms. As much as he would like to stay out of their private business, it's always easier to deal with the aftermath without them. Listening in lets him know when he should go down to help clean up the emotional messes left behind; it helps him work out the gist of the problem; and it shows him which friend needs his presence the most. There are, he has discovered, patterns to all of it; it's usually the same or similar arguments repeated over and over again like the swirling blades of a fan, and Hermione heads to her room if she's sad or the library if she's mad, while Ron almost unfailingly wants someone to rant to afterwards.

This time, the tiff is about Ron's decision to resign from the joke shop. Work has, Harry has come to notice, been a recurring theme in their fights for a few weeks now. Apparently, in Hermione's mind, dropping out of Auror training after choosing it over school was exasperating but understandable, but quitting this job without having worked out his long term plans is just irresponsible. She insists that it's a bad move, and Ron is adamant that it's a necessary one, and neither of them seem willing to let it drop without convincing the other of their views.

Why can't they both just let it go? Harry wonders, wishing they didn't always come to Grimmauld Place to argue. Even though Ron, unlike Hermione, decided to stay in his childhood home after the war, they always meet at the old Order headquarters when they want privacy to fight or to… do things Harry doesn't like to think of them doing.

Their voices grow ever louder, cutting through his thoughts until they, like a breaking wave, finally crash though the sound barriers the trio put up around Walburga Black's portrait. The privacy and muffling charms usually mean that she can neither hear nor be heard by them, but some fights, like this one, are so loud that those protective layers fail. Thus alerted by the sound, the portrait decides to join in, adding her biting insults and shrill complaints to the cacophony of noise. It's nowhere near as loud as the fight itself, but it's still almost enough to convince Harry to leave the house for a few hours.

"PUSHY? HOW IS IT PUSHY TO WANT YOU TO ACTUALLY COMMIT TO SOMETHING FOR LONGER THAN A YEAR?"

"Mudbloods – blood traitors – upstart rebels – "

"WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU CALL YOUR CONSTANT NAGGING?"

"WANTING YOU NOT TO WASTE YOUR WHOLE LIFE DRIFTING BECAUSE YOUR'E TOO SCARED TO EVER PUSH PAST THE INITIAL HARD SLOG! CARING!"

"Polluting this place with their presence – contaminating it with their filth – "

"You know what? I TAKE IT BACK. I don't care what you'd call it! JUST STOP IT!"

"YOU WANT ME TO STOP CARING?"

"I WANT YOU TO STOP NAGGING!"

"FINE, THEN! I'LL STOP! I QUIT! This is obviously not working anymore, Ronald. THIS IS OVER."

And so the wave, finally crested, hits Harry's lonely beach and washes away the sand, leaving him defenceless against truth of the situation. A stunned silence takes over the house as Harry – and, he's sure, the others – realise the enormity of Hermione's words.

Amplified by the sudden hush, a door slowly groans open. It crosses Harry's mind that even it, this inanimate object with neither feelings nor thoughts, is reacting to the situation. Within moments, however, the muted but venomous, "Mudbloods – blood traitors – upstart rebels – " starts up again, taking advantage of the erstwhile silence.

Almost instinctively, Harry jumps up from his bed and hurries downstairs, ready to once again play medic for his feuding best friends.

It isn't supposed to be like this, Harry thinks as he barrels into the hallway, almost crashing into Hermione at the foot of the stairs. None of us were supposed to end up like this. Ron and Hermione were supposed to be happy; Teddy was supposed to know his parents; Ginny was supposed to –

"Hermione?" he asks, keeping the question open so she can take her answer wherever she wants.

"I'm over it," she replies, but her voice is stiff and hurt, and she looks lost in a way he's ever seen her before.

"That's a lie."

"But I'll get there." Appearing to notice his concerned expression, she adds, "We couldn't keep going on like that; it would just destroy us. It's really is better this way. Look, Harry, I appreciate you being here, but I really need to be alone right now. We can talk about things later, alright?"

"Just remember I'm here if you need me."

As she starts to trudge up the stairs, Harry makes his way over to the living room door and softly raps his knuckles against it.

"Yeah?" Ron's voice sounds small, broken, as if it's a vase that has been dropped and shattered but is trying to hold flowers anyway.

"Can I come in?"

"It's just you?"

"Yeah. She's upstairs."

The most heartbreaking thing is that Harry can't tell if Ron is relieved or disappointed when he responds with a quiet, "Sure."