[A/N: sorry for the delay between updates. Life gets crazy on ya, and I
wanted to leave a little suspense.after all, when you hear about Ron's ears
getting that red, you are interested, right?]
"R-R-Ron!"
"Yes?"
"Wha-why-did you get the food?"
"I did, but it's on the floor now, so it's no good. You two been having fun?"
"We-we've been waiting for you."
"Obviously."
They cowered in the corner, making sure they were completely separate from each other, cowering at the calmness of their usually very expressive friend.
"Ron, we didn't-"
"It wasn't-"
"We swear-"
It was amazing, there were only two people talking, but it sounded as if there were much more. Ron wondered if there were voices in is head, if his anger caused some sort of schizophrenia. Why wasn't he angrier, though? He had nightmare-d this situation so many times. And in those nightmares, he'd not spoken to them for days, avoiding the two of them at all costs, taking longer routes everywhere, them trying desperately to get him back on their side. But somehow, that voice had come back from lunch and told him that that was not the route to take.
"I really don't get why you two are trying to apologize for."
They stopped and looked at him, stupefied.
"You didn't see anything-unusual?"
"Oh I saw lots of things unusual. In fact, just this morning, I saw something-"
"No, I mean, just now?"
"Well, it was unusual, of course, but it was justified."
"Justified?"
Both of them looked very confused and a little afraid.
"Yes, of course."
"How?"
"You don't think it was justified? If you don't.."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, for the first time, awkwardly. They had just realized the awkwardness of the situation, the awkwardness of Ron's situation, just the general awkwardness. There was too much of it, it hung around them in so much quantity that they could almost see it. Ron slowly turned, picked up his wand and threw the wasted food in the garbage, a pang of guilt hitting him as he thought of the house-elves. He then turned again to walk up the stairs. He heard footsteps behind up, but didn't turn around to look at Harry's face. He didn't want to see it right now. Of course, he wouldn't let Harry know that this was the case. He wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to pretend that he was ok with it. In a twisted way, it would make them hurt more.
"Please, Ron, just let us-"
Ron shut, not slammed, the door in Hermione, not Harry's, pleading face. He got into his pajamas and into his bed, not making a sound, being incredibly dull. He didn't know what exactly to think. Sure, he had feared this would happen, but it was only a fear. Now it was real. What would it do to him? Or rather, them.
He lay on his other side, fingering the velvet, scarlet curtains that shielded him from what he was sure were Harry's hesitant footsteps. He tried to think of a plan.
His first instinct, at the time, was to yell, scream, and hex them both until he was calm again. But he didn't want to murder them, and something [it was probably that vindictive little voice of his] was telling him that that would not be punishment enough. What was making him so vengeful? Oh yes. His two best friends were in love with each other, and he would be left each sunset not only without a girl, but without a friend as well.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Harry woke up extremely early. It was still dark, but he was not tired. He was sure he had been awake for at least 30 minutes trying to sleep again, but he just couldn't. He looked outside. The sun hadn't even peeked over the horizon yet. He sat up in bed, then bent over to get his books. As long as he was up, might as well get some homework out of the way.
But he couldn't concentrate. He was usually a morning person and could usually get much more done in the morning. As he looked over at the hangings, belonging to another bed, on his right, he put his quill down and started to think.
How had yesterday happened? A couple of weeks ago he had no feeling for Hermione..and now he was kissing her. Could it have been what Neville said? But if every time someone hinted that to Harry a girl fancied him and he kissed the girl, where would that get him? He looked over at Ron's bed, wishing he would wake up so they could talk. He had no idea what he would say. What could he say? That he was sorry? Sorry for what? Even Ron agreed that they were justified. But then what? That things weren't going to change? No, that was a lie. He knew they were. They were going to change drastically. All of sudden, Ron would feel like a third wheel, only accompanying them places when absolutely necessary. A vision flashed in his head. Not a nice one.
Harry was doing his homework, his arm around Hermione's waist, and then the same arm up on the table, holding his parchment. Hermione was doing her homework as well, and occasionally would brush some hair out of Harry's eyes, whisper something in his ear, or kiss him. It was a sweet sight, and it gave a small smile. Until he turned [in his head] and saw Ron, trying not to grimace at the sight of them. He was sitting right next to them, trying to make conversation. But each time, he was answered with kisses or sweet nothings, neither of which was directed to him.
Harry flashed back to real life. This couldn't happen. The three of them couldn't evolve to that. Where would it leave Ron? Where would it leave all of them? What would the Weasleys say? The Order of Phoenix? Suddenly, a lightbulb flashed over his head, and Harry realized why exactly he was feeling so horrible about the whole mess. It wasn't because he was afraid of change; it wasn't because he was afraid of the aftermath of a possible breakup between him and Hermione; it wasn't because he was afraid of what people would say. He was feeling the worst feeling of all: pity for what would become of Ron.
[a.n: Hey, short chapter I know. Still pondering my next chapter. R&R!]
"R-R-Ron!"
"Yes?"
"Wha-why-did you get the food?"
"I did, but it's on the floor now, so it's no good. You two been having fun?"
"We-we've been waiting for you."
"Obviously."
They cowered in the corner, making sure they were completely separate from each other, cowering at the calmness of their usually very expressive friend.
"Ron, we didn't-"
"It wasn't-"
"We swear-"
It was amazing, there were only two people talking, but it sounded as if there were much more. Ron wondered if there were voices in is head, if his anger caused some sort of schizophrenia. Why wasn't he angrier, though? He had nightmare-d this situation so many times. And in those nightmares, he'd not spoken to them for days, avoiding the two of them at all costs, taking longer routes everywhere, them trying desperately to get him back on their side. But somehow, that voice had come back from lunch and told him that that was not the route to take.
"I really don't get why you two are trying to apologize for."
They stopped and looked at him, stupefied.
"You didn't see anything-unusual?"
"Oh I saw lots of things unusual. In fact, just this morning, I saw something-"
"No, I mean, just now?"
"Well, it was unusual, of course, but it was justified."
"Justified?"
Both of them looked very confused and a little afraid.
"Yes, of course."
"How?"
"You don't think it was justified? If you don't.."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, for the first time, awkwardly. They had just realized the awkwardness of the situation, the awkwardness of Ron's situation, just the general awkwardness. There was too much of it, it hung around them in so much quantity that they could almost see it. Ron slowly turned, picked up his wand and threw the wasted food in the garbage, a pang of guilt hitting him as he thought of the house-elves. He then turned again to walk up the stairs. He heard footsteps behind up, but didn't turn around to look at Harry's face. He didn't want to see it right now. Of course, he wouldn't let Harry know that this was the case. He wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to pretend that he was ok with it. In a twisted way, it would make them hurt more.
"Please, Ron, just let us-"
Ron shut, not slammed, the door in Hermione, not Harry's, pleading face. He got into his pajamas and into his bed, not making a sound, being incredibly dull. He didn't know what exactly to think. Sure, he had feared this would happen, but it was only a fear. Now it was real. What would it do to him? Or rather, them.
He lay on his other side, fingering the velvet, scarlet curtains that shielded him from what he was sure were Harry's hesitant footsteps. He tried to think of a plan.
His first instinct, at the time, was to yell, scream, and hex them both until he was calm again. But he didn't want to murder them, and something [it was probably that vindictive little voice of his] was telling him that that would not be punishment enough. What was making him so vengeful? Oh yes. His two best friends were in love with each other, and he would be left each sunset not only without a girl, but without a friend as well.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Harry woke up extremely early. It was still dark, but he was not tired. He was sure he had been awake for at least 30 minutes trying to sleep again, but he just couldn't. He looked outside. The sun hadn't even peeked over the horizon yet. He sat up in bed, then bent over to get his books. As long as he was up, might as well get some homework out of the way.
But he couldn't concentrate. He was usually a morning person and could usually get much more done in the morning. As he looked over at the hangings, belonging to another bed, on his right, he put his quill down and started to think.
How had yesterday happened? A couple of weeks ago he had no feeling for Hermione..and now he was kissing her. Could it have been what Neville said? But if every time someone hinted that to Harry a girl fancied him and he kissed the girl, where would that get him? He looked over at Ron's bed, wishing he would wake up so they could talk. He had no idea what he would say. What could he say? That he was sorry? Sorry for what? Even Ron agreed that they were justified. But then what? That things weren't going to change? No, that was a lie. He knew they were. They were going to change drastically. All of sudden, Ron would feel like a third wheel, only accompanying them places when absolutely necessary. A vision flashed in his head. Not a nice one.
Harry was doing his homework, his arm around Hermione's waist, and then the same arm up on the table, holding his parchment. Hermione was doing her homework as well, and occasionally would brush some hair out of Harry's eyes, whisper something in his ear, or kiss him. It was a sweet sight, and it gave a small smile. Until he turned [in his head] and saw Ron, trying not to grimace at the sight of them. He was sitting right next to them, trying to make conversation. But each time, he was answered with kisses or sweet nothings, neither of which was directed to him.
Harry flashed back to real life. This couldn't happen. The three of them couldn't evolve to that. Where would it leave Ron? Where would it leave all of them? What would the Weasleys say? The Order of Phoenix? Suddenly, a lightbulb flashed over his head, and Harry realized why exactly he was feeling so horrible about the whole mess. It wasn't because he was afraid of change; it wasn't because he was afraid of the aftermath of a possible breakup between him and Hermione; it wasn't because he was afraid of what people would say. He was feeling the worst feeling of all: pity for what would become of Ron.
[a.n: Hey, short chapter I know. Still pondering my next chapter. R&R!]