Chapter 16- Potions and pum-pums.

Ron's PoV

The next few days weren't fun, but the morning of the first day was the worst. By lunchtime on that first day I knew exactly how Harry must have felt those times everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and when he was having a hard time for being made Champion. OK, maybe not *exactly*- I admit that mine probably wasn't as bad because it was only a few days and it wasn't the whole school- but I had a fair *idea*.

Anyway, basically, it was all because of Hermione. Who else? My ex-best friend, oh, sorry, ex-best *acquaintance* had done exactly as I had predicted and ran to tell *Vicky* the finer details of our conversation straight away. How did I know this? I heard it straight from the horse's (he actually looks a bit like one, come to think of it) mouth.

"So she didn't believe you? That's a big surprise!"

Harry and me were on our way down to the dungeons for Potions when I heard *Vicky's* voice, speaking in Bulgarian. I stopped suddenly, causing Harry to walk right into me. He frowned. "What's wrong?" He asked. I glanced across the entrance hall- I could see *Vicky* standing by the front doors with the rest of his Quidditch team, all of whom were laughing. At me.

"What's the matter? Upset are you? Embarrassed?"

With difficulty, I managed to make my legs start walking again. "Nothing," I told Harry, "I-"

"Don't worry, I'll look after her for you."

My head snapped round to look at him- I couldn't help it, it was like a reflex. And she was there. Hermione was standing right next to *Vicky*, who had his arm around her shoulders, and she was looking straight at me with a look that I'd only seen her wear once before- when she slapped Draco Malfoy around the face. The fact that she was likening me to that scum was, well, I can't put a name to the feeling but rest assured- it wasn't good.

His friends were laughing more than ever as I forced myself- and I mean *forced* myself- to turn away and start walking towards the dungeons. Harry was still frowning- but now he was looking at *Vicky* instead of me.

"What're they laughing at?" He asked, following me down the stone steps and into the dark passageway. I shrugged, but I knew Harry wasn't going to let it drop. "He was just saying, you know- like it was a big surprise she didn't believe me and was I upset and all that." I told him.

"What!" Harry exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks. His hand plunged into his pocket and withdrew his wand. "That's it!" He said, turning around and starting back up the stairs. I stopped him before he got very far- I wasn't about to let him give *Vicky* the satisfaction.

"Ignore him Harry. I don't care what he says about me." I said, pulling him back down the stairs. Harry looked conflicted, his eyes darting up to the entrance hall, from where *Vicky* and his friends could still be heard, laughing their heads off. "But, I-" He started. I just shook my head and started to drag him up the corridor.

Though I was glad that I had managed to stop Harry, I couldn't help but think about that look on Hermione's face. The truth was, no matter how many times I repeated SHASH over and over in my head, it bothered me that Hermione didn't believe me. It really *bothered* me. Well, OK, I was on my way to being over that, having thought it over all night- what bothered me now was the fact that she hated me, and was thinking really bad things about me, probably plotting ways to take her revenge. The way she was looking at me. she really hated me.

Yep. That *really* bothered me.

It took me a couple of seconds to realise that the laughter behind me wasn't fading- in fact it was louder, and echoing along the corridor. I didn't have to look to see that *Vicky* and his team-mates had decided to walk Hermione to class. How *nice* of them.

"Ready to admit I was right yet Ron?"

See, I *knew* he hadn't finished yet. Somehow, I just *knew* that he was going to see something else. Those divination classes were really paying off.

"Still in denial?"

We'd reached the Potions classroom now and waited next to the door, leaning against the wall. We were the first ones there, goody-goody-gum-drops, which meant that there was nowhere to focus on but *Vicky* and the gang. (I learnt that goody-goody-gum-drops thing from Harry, something to do with Muggle sweets or the like).

Hermione, *Vicky* and the rest rounded the corner a couple of seconds after us, still laughing and looking at me to see my reaction. I stared stonily at the wall above their heads- like I'd actually *want* to look at them!

There was nothing that Viktor could say to make me-

"Would you like me to talk to Hermione for you Ron? She might listen to me."

Nope, not gonna get to me. Not at all. OK, so my hands are in fists and I'm having trouble breathing through the BOILING RAGE but it's not going to bother me. Not at all. AT ALL.

He is so dead.

SHE'S MY FRIEND NOT YOURS!!!! I yelled, pounding my fist into the side of *Vicky's* head, and sending him sprawling onto the ground. AND YOU CAN TELL HER FROM ME THAT YOU ARE A PRAT WHO CHEATS ON HER AND BRAINWASHES HER INTO THINKING THAT-

"Ron?"

I snapped out of my (rather satisfying) daydream and blinked at Harry. I realised then that my anger wasn't exactly disguised well- my fists were pressed against my sides, my teeth were gritting together, I was breathing rather heavily and I could feel my ears were really red. Stupid ears. I forced myself to look more relaxed and looked determinedly at the floor, away from *Vicky* who was laughing really hard. Stupid ears.

"Hermione says she's going to be a cheerleader for our side on Saturday."

I couldn't help what I did next, I really couldn't. I laughed before I could stop, my shoulders shaking. Was that supposed to offend me? Really? It was pathetic. I knew enough of Muggle culture to know what a cheerleader is, and to know that Hermione wouldn't be one. She likes to *watch* the games, not jump up and down waving pum-pums or whatever they're called.

Harry frowned up at me, looking totally bemused at my sudden change of mood. I bent my head and told him what Viktor had said, keeping my voice low so that Viktor wouldn't hear. There were more of the class arriving anyway now, so we had a bit of noise cover.

Harry's reaction was exactly the same as mine, and it started me off again. We both looked up at *Vicky* at the same time, and started to laugh even harder. We went into the classroom still chuckling at the joke, and sat down at out usual table.

Stupid *Vicky*, he really was thick. I mean, *really*. If he had meant to insult me than he had gone about it the wrong way- it had had the opposite effect entirely. It just proved without a shadow of a doubt that Hermione would eventually figure out that *Vicky* is a total prat, and would stop looking at me like that.

And then I'd decide whether to forgive her or not.

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The deep, dark, sometimes-sarcastic thoughts of Harry Potter:

Cheerleading! Priceless, I mean she- he thinks- cheerleading! No way- it, ha, OK, having trouble breathing- CHEERLEADING! It- oh stop looking at me you pretentious prick! Yes, we found it funny- not laughing now are you? Huh? As if we'd take that as an insult, it's so stup- ha! Cheerleading! Oh god...

Dear Diary, Is it just me, or is Hermione totally avoiding Ron and Harry? That fight must have been really something. What do you think it was about? Ok, I just asked my diary what it thought. No offence, but maybe I should go to the Hospital Wing. Love Ginny xxx

Ok, I know the chapter title is lame, but anyway! I can't believe the fifth book is FINALLY nearly here! I'm just trying to finish this on time. I not sure I'll manage it! By the way, I'm sorry this has taken so long- GCSEs.