AN: Hehe…sorry that this chapter was so late. I just got back after a
*big* break…I've got so much stuff to make up in school I haven't got time
to do this right now. So, here's chapter nine…halfway through…yay…I
promise you, this'll be good. Even I don't know the end ::grins wickedly::
anyhow, here's the ninth chapter…
Disclaimer: I. Don't. Own. Harry. Potter. I just own the plot. K? Wow, that sounds oddly pathetic…
Chapter Nine: You Kept Everything Inside
The next morning, Harry awoke with a start. He reached over and pulled on his glasses. He looked across the room, and saw that Ron was not where he usually was. Harry frowned. He was still concerned about last night. What had happened to him? Ron didn't look like he was beat up or anything. And he would most certainly be gloating gleefully if he got Hermione to apologize back, as she wasn't acting very nice either. Harry had no doubt now in the back of his mind that Ron liked Hermione. Harry nearly laughed. Did Ron do what he thought he did? Did Ron tell her that he liked her, more than just a friend…? Harry didn't think Hermione had those feelings yet for anyone, and if she did, the way Ron looked like last night shown quite clearly that it wasn't Ron.
In fact, this made him think about what happened earlier…was it just yesterday morning he awoke, just like this? Only two nights ago he had seen Hermione and someone. No doubting that bushy hair of hers, even if it was starting to flatten. Who was it? Harry found the more he concentrated on the picture in his mind, he found it beginning to fade even more from his memory. Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. It was only eight in the morning. It was too early for analytical work, he thought, changing into his black robes. Especially on this wintry Saturday.
He climbed out of Gryfindor tower and walked down to breakfast. He saw Hermione quietly eating, her nose stuck in a book.
"It's too early, Hermione," Harry moaned, sitting down and seeing that it was an O.W.L. test booklet. "Let your mind rest a little."
Hermione looked up. "Oh, hello to you too, Harry." She smiled widely.
Harry looked up and blushed slightly. "Hermione, did Ron talk to you last night?" He asked, scooping some scrambled eggs on his toast.
Hermione put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so, Harry. I was in the library all night, studying, and…was he supposed to talk to me? Did I miss something here?" She sounded very annoyed, and snappish.
"I was just wondering if you had any idea what was the matter with him. I mean, he went to talk to you—"
"You can ask him yourself, Harry," she interrupted. "Here he is." Hermione stood abruptly and walked away. She was still angry about yesterday, it seemed.
Ron walked up to Harry, watching Hermione leave. Harry noticed unlike yesterday, with his listless expression upon his face, he had more of an angry look. He felt confused.
Ron sat down next to him on his left, and started to pile food onto his plate. Harry resisted the urge to ask what was wrong. Ron would tell him, eventually, even if it meant twenty years from now. Harry kept thinking, over and over: what had upset him so much? He hadn't talked to Hermione, so what had made him so disconcerted? They rest of their meal was eating in complete silence. Even the rest of the Gryfindors saw something was out of place.
Harry collected his bags. Suddenly, the hall was full of fluttering. The Owl Post was here. Harry looked up. Amongst the mass of black, brown and gray, his white owl, Hedwig, was no where to be seen. Harry sighed and pushed his chair out. He was half-hoping that perhaps Hagrid would send him something.
He felt a small weight land on his shoulder. Hedwig hooted softly, sticking out her leg for him to take off the letter. He untied the piece of parchment and hooted again more importantly, fluffing her feathers on his shoulder. Harry laughed, and Hedwig gave him an affectionate nip. "I'll get you some juice and some food, Hedwig," he said, walking over back to the table.
Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and held it up for Hedwig to sip. She fluffed her feathers appreciatively and sipped, obviously happy with his polite behavior and generosity. Hedwig hooted gratefully, pleased with her drink, and gently rose from his shoulders. Ron watched this all in interest.
"Wish Pig was more like Hedwig," he said suddenly, stirring his food around on his plate. "Can't ever get him to listen though." It seemed like Ron had returned to his listlessness. Harry, watching Hedwig fly out and marveling at her graceful wings and gorgeous feathers, turned to Ron.
"Ron, Pig would be like that if he weren't such a new owl. Once he calms down a bit, he'd be better off," Harry said appreciatively, glad that he was finally talking, even it was the pity-poor-me kind of act.
"Yeah, okay," Ron said, still continuing to stir his food. He seemed quite bothered by sitting there. Unconsciously, he dribbled some of the food upon the table. Ron sighed.
"Ron," Harry said slowly, "won't you tell me what is the matter?" Ron looked up at Harry. His eyes, Harry noticed (he realized that he seemed to notice Ron's eyes a bit more lately, perhaps this was the way he can determine Ron's true feelings) were a bit glossy. Glossy, like that of one who wanted to cry. Ron opened his mouth then closed it. Harry breathed in, absentmindedly pulling up a chair, not bothering to look anywhere else but Ron.
Finally he spoke. "Harry, I want to tell you," he said slowly, like this was fading away to a painful secret, "but I don't know yet. I just can't. Not right now, anyway."
Harry felt a stabbing pain in his mindset. He was all prepared, wanting to offer loads of advice to his best friend (after all, five years at the best school for Witchcraft and Wizardry does teach you a bit about life's morals). Even though he was sure that his advice would be very stupid and very pointless, he was waiting to be of any help. It hurt Harry to see Ron in so much pain and not be able to tell Harry any of it.
Finally, after a moment of silence, Harry said, "Ron, I'll be there when you want to tell me, but I don't know if I'll be listening." Harry tried as hard as he could not to make it sound like a threat.
"Why do you say that, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Because," said Harry, "I don't believe that we can be the best friends we are and have you keep such secrets from me. Obviously this is serious and if you can't even tell me, then something is very wrong about this friendship."
Ron's face grew quite red and rather round. "Something wrong with our friendship? For heaven's sake, Harry, you've kept plenty of secrets from me! Like your scar last summer," he pointed out, "you never told me about that until we got into school. After Sirius' reply, no less."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Ron, I told someone though, and that's the point. This'll only eat away at you until you're nothing but a shell of a person left."
"So you want me to tell somebody?" Ron said furiously. "Is that the whole point? What if I don't want to? Perhaps, if you were my friend, you'd respect my privacy and wait until I told you!"
Harry breathed in. He didn't want to make Ron any madder than he currently was. "I was just saying…"
"Well, keep you sayings to yourself! Besides, what I know would probably keep you awake for nights! It'd—" he paused, searching for the correct saying, "It'd make your hair curl!" Ron finished, standing up abruptly.
Harry stood as well. "Well, what do you know?" he said calmly.
Ron sighed inwardly. He paused for a few moments, and the Ron took a big breath. "You're right, Harry," he said slowly, "and I will tell you. After the first class. This is too big for here."
"Alright then, Ron," Harry said with a smile. He was glad that Ron and him had avoided a head-on friendship collision. And Ron didn't need both of his best friends mad at him right now.
He picked up his bag and him and Ron headed to Care of Magical Creatures, their spirits held a bit higher. Well, Harry's, anyway.
Disclaimer: I. Don't. Own. Harry. Potter. I just own the plot. K? Wow, that sounds oddly pathetic…
Chapter Nine: You Kept Everything Inside
The next morning, Harry awoke with a start. He reached over and pulled on his glasses. He looked across the room, and saw that Ron was not where he usually was. Harry frowned. He was still concerned about last night. What had happened to him? Ron didn't look like he was beat up or anything. And he would most certainly be gloating gleefully if he got Hermione to apologize back, as she wasn't acting very nice either. Harry had no doubt now in the back of his mind that Ron liked Hermione. Harry nearly laughed. Did Ron do what he thought he did? Did Ron tell her that he liked her, more than just a friend…? Harry didn't think Hermione had those feelings yet for anyone, and if she did, the way Ron looked like last night shown quite clearly that it wasn't Ron.
In fact, this made him think about what happened earlier…was it just yesterday morning he awoke, just like this? Only two nights ago he had seen Hermione and someone. No doubting that bushy hair of hers, even if it was starting to flatten. Who was it? Harry found the more he concentrated on the picture in his mind, he found it beginning to fade even more from his memory. Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. It was only eight in the morning. It was too early for analytical work, he thought, changing into his black robes. Especially on this wintry Saturday.
He climbed out of Gryfindor tower and walked down to breakfast. He saw Hermione quietly eating, her nose stuck in a book.
"It's too early, Hermione," Harry moaned, sitting down and seeing that it was an O.W.L. test booklet. "Let your mind rest a little."
Hermione looked up. "Oh, hello to you too, Harry." She smiled widely.
Harry looked up and blushed slightly. "Hermione, did Ron talk to you last night?" He asked, scooping some scrambled eggs on his toast.
Hermione put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so, Harry. I was in the library all night, studying, and…was he supposed to talk to me? Did I miss something here?" She sounded very annoyed, and snappish.
"I was just wondering if you had any idea what was the matter with him. I mean, he went to talk to you—"
"You can ask him yourself, Harry," she interrupted. "Here he is." Hermione stood abruptly and walked away. She was still angry about yesterday, it seemed.
Ron walked up to Harry, watching Hermione leave. Harry noticed unlike yesterday, with his listless expression upon his face, he had more of an angry look. He felt confused.
Ron sat down next to him on his left, and started to pile food onto his plate. Harry resisted the urge to ask what was wrong. Ron would tell him, eventually, even if it meant twenty years from now. Harry kept thinking, over and over: what had upset him so much? He hadn't talked to Hermione, so what had made him so disconcerted? They rest of their meal was eating in complete silence. Even the rest of the Gryfindors saw something was out of place.
Harry collected his bags. Suddenly, the hall was full of fluttering. The Owl Post was here. Harry looked up. Amongst the mass of black, brown and gray, his white owl, Hedwig, was no where to be seen. Harry sighed and pushed his chair out. He was half-hoping that perhaps Hagrid would send him something.
He felt a small weight land on his shoulder. Hedwig hooted softly, sticking out her leg for him to take off the letter. He untied the piece of parchment and hooted again more importantly, fluffing her feathers on his shoulder. Harry laughed, and Hedwig gave him an affectionate nip. "I'll get you some juice and some food, Hedwig," he said, walking over back to the table.
Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and held it up for Hedwig to sip. She fluffed her feathers appreciatively and sipped, obviously happy with his polite behavior and generosity. Hedwig hooted gratefully, pleased with her drink, and gently rose from his shoulders. Ron watched this all in interest.
"Wish Pig was more like Hedwig," he said suddenly, stirring his food around on his plate. "Can't ever get him to listen though." It seemed like Ron had returned to his listlessness. Harry, watching Hedwig fly out and marveling at her graceful wings and gorgeous feathers, turned to Ron.
"Ron, Pig would be like that if he weren't such a new owl. Once he calms down a bit, he'd be better off," Harry said appreciatively, glad that he was finally talking, even it was the pity-poor-me kind of act.
"Yeah, okay," Ron said, still continuing to stir his food. He seemed quite bothered by sitting there. Unconsciously, he dribbled some of the food upon the table. Ron sighed.
"Ron," Harry said slowly, "won't you tell me what is the matter?" Ron looked up at Harry. His eyes, Harry noticed (he realized that he seemed to notice Ron's eyes a bit more lately, perhaps this was the way he can determine Ron's true feelings) were a bit glossy. Glossy, like that of one who wanted to cry. Ron opened his mouth then closed it. Harry breathed in, absentmindedly pulling up a chair, not bothering to look anywhere else but Ron.
Finally he spoke. "Harry, I want to tell you," he said slowly, like this was fading away to a painful secret, "but I don't know yet. I just can't. Not right now, anyway."
Harry felt a stabbing pain in his mindset. He was all prepared, wanting to offer loads of advice to his best friend (after all, five years at the best school for Witchcraft and Wizardry does teach you a bit about life's morals). Even though he was sure that his advice would be very stupid and very pointless, he was waiting to be of any help. It hurt Harry to see Ron in so much pain and not be able to tell Harry any of it.
Finally, after a moment of silence, Harry said, "Ron, I'll be there when you want to tell me, but I don't know if I'll be listening." Harry tried as hard as he could not to make it sound like a threat.
"Why do you say that, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Because," said Harry, "I don't believe that we can be the best friends we are and have you keep such secrets from me. Obviously this is serious and if you can't even tell me, then something is very wrong about this friendship."
Ron's face grew quite red and rather round. "Something wrong with our friendship? For heaven's sake, Harry, you've kept plenty of secrets from me! Like your scar last summer," he pointed out, "you never told me about that until we got into school. After Sirius' reply, no less."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Ron, I told someone though, and that's the point. This'll only eat away at you until you're nothing but a shell of a person left."
"So you want me to tell somebody?" Ron said furiously. "Is that the whole point? What if I don't want to? Perhaps, if you were my friend, you'd respect my privacy and wait until I told you!"
Harry breathed in. He didn't want to make Ron any madder than he currently was. "I was just saying…"
"Well, keep you sayings to yourself! Besides, what I know would probably keep you awake for nights! It'd—" he paused, searching for the correct saying, "It'd make your hair curl!" Ron finished, standing up abruptly.
Harry stood as well. "Well, what do you know?" he said calmly.
Ron sighed inwardly. He paused for a few moments, and the Ron took a big breath. "You're right, Harry," he said slowly, "and I will tell you. After the first class. This is too big for here."
"Alright then, Ron," Harry said with a smile. He was glad that Ron and him had avoided a head-on friendship collision. And Ron didn't need both of his best friends mad at him right now.
He picked up his bag and him and Ron headed to Care of Magical Creatures, their spirits held a bit higher. Well, Harry's, anyway.
