4. End Game.
The next morning, they almost walked next to each other at the stairwell landing. Heaven forbid that should happen!
Harry avoided Ron, picked up speed and headed down along the outer railing.
But this was not Ron's morning. Ron, on the wall side of the stairs, encountered a double-dose of the usual hazards. The stairs started changing, distracting him just as he came to the vanishing step.
One leg went through. Ron's back swung against the railing, then he lost his grip and fell face-first, his books scattering madly downward. He almost got banged up.
Almost.
Half the avalanche of books belonged to Harry, who though teetering himself, had dropped his books to catch Ron before his face would have hit the stairs, almost going down the staircase backwards himself. Once everything slid to a halt, they both looked up.
"All right there?" asked Harry.
"All right," answered Ron, unemotionally.
Silent once more, they brushed themselves off. Harry had an abrasion on his hand; Ron had scraped one ankle, but was able to walk with no problem. They divided the books between themselves without a word, and went on their separate but parallel ways to the Great Hall.
From the landing above them, Hermione watched and learned.
Once breakfast had started, she broached the subject. "I saw you two on the staircase just now."
Silence. Oh, sure, 400 very noisy students were in the hall, but around Harry and Ron, the silence was deafening.
"I was wrong yesterday. About it coming down to a fist fight. I was only making matters worse."
Silence.
"I don't have any brothers or sisters, and...oh, I've had friends and all, but..."
Silence.
"I mean... it's not like Harry had to run out in traffic to save you, Ron, he was just softening your fall on the stairs, but still..."
Silence.
"I understand why Harry did it, and Ron, you know you would have done the same for Harry if he had fallen.... even if he was falling from a broomstick."
Silence.
"You would do that sort of thing for each other, because after all the silly arguments and pranks, you two are still true friends."
Silence.
"Oh, by the way: a chess game left uncompleted by mutual consent is a draw."
Silence.
"Isn't one of you going to say something?" she asked.
Silence. Ron stopped munching and looked up, staring at Harry.
"Harry," said Ron, "if it's the last thing I do....."
All eyes turned his way.
"...I'm gonna get one of those Muggle egg timers. You are the slowest chess player I ever saw in my life! I would suggest you quit the game, except we both enjoy playing. Maybe, after seven years here, maybe you'll finally pick up some speed. But you are NOT going to keep me up late any more, waiting for you to move, oh great one."
Silence. Harry looked up at Ron.
"Ron," he said, "if you're going to continue being such a..."
All eyes shifted across the table.
"...showoff on the stairs, at least keep a grip on the rail. Honestly, it's not the best place to practice your swan dive."
Silence. Except for resumed munching.
"Harry, that water glass trick was rotten. Clever -- wish I had thought of it first -- but rotten. If I had lost my Potions homework, Snape would've had my hide."
"Ron, I could hardly write all morning after reaching into that pitcher of ice water. My arm was numb. I didn't have to, y'know; I was tempted to empty that ice on your bed... that was Plan B. Plan A....well, I never would have gotten away with it, but Plan A was to pour it down your pajamas."
Silence. Except for munching and snickering. With each retort, Fred and George were alternately drawing marks on an invisible mid-air scoreboard.
"Y'know, Harry, that Fifi sounds like the perfect girl for you! Why not marry her, and you two can make little house-elves together."
"Marry her, with that voice? She sounds like Ron Weasley on helium."
"Beggars can't be choosers, Harry."
"While I think of it, Ron, see Angelina after breakfast. She wants to return your pink dress."
"What's the matter," asked Ron, "hemline too short? If it's too small, ask your auntie to let it out for you."
"It might fit you... but then, I'm much bigger around the chest."
"Doubt it."
Silence. Except for the total din of 400 hungry students.
Harry continued it. "You should have seen the look on your face when Scabbers ran up the table."
"If he had any loyalty, he should have bit you. Y'know, Hedwig pecked me before I could convince her to carry that howler."
"I'll have to reward her later."
"Ruddy owl's got no sense of humour," said Ron, stuffing his face.
"And what with Quidditch dresses and snog tests, we do have to keep a sense of humour around here, don't we?"
"Rife. I hab one, reebly," seb Ron. "Keebs me nifb n' lov'bub."
"I think this is where we came in. Oh, and Hermione -- thanks for the reminder."
"Mff tg............. um, me too, Hermione. That little speech was truly..... mushy."
Hermione smiled at him. "Why, thank you, Ron. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Now, what's this about your dress?"
"First things first," said Ron. About those special alarm pictures, could you and my Dad record one for .....ow! Oh, kick all you want, Harry! Hermione, I want a special picture....ow! ... especially for Harry. Ow! Could you record it?"
George looked at Fred. "Rats," he said. "There goes the butterbeer concession."