Chapter Eleven

Harry's Turn

Harry stared down at the Transfiguration essay and wondered when it all stopped making sense. The words on the page were starting to crawl and he couldn't remember whether he could see better with his glasses on or off anymore. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced at the clock. Eleven o'clock. Not exactly late but late enough so that he'd had enough of homework. He glanced at Hermione across the table. She'd already written six pages worth of notes in the two hours that they'd been working. He looked down at his own effort of a page and a half and sighed loudly. Subjects just weren't getting any easier as he progressed further in his education, that was for sure.

"Harry!" Hermione tapped him on the arm with her quill. "Finally! Did you ever zone out or what?"

"Sorry," Harry said, drawing his attention back to her. "I'm just finding it hard to pay attention these days."

"Really," Hermione said, chewing on her quill thoughtfully. "Depressed?"

"No! I... uh..." Harry thought about it. "I don't think so..."

"Unhappy, then?" Hermione suggested. When Harry frowned, she amended it. "As in, not unhappy but just not happy and bubbly?"

"Oh." Harry shrugged. "I guess."

"I see." Hermione was silent for a moment before trying again. "Girl troubles?"

Harry's head snapped up. "No!"

It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "I see a lot of girls get depressed like you over boys. I mean, not depressed. Just not 'happy and bubbly'." There was a glint of mirth in her eye.

Harry sighed and threw his quill at her, missing spectacularly and landing behind her. "Good thing I'm not a Beater," he quipped sourly, retrieving his quill.

"Indeed," Hermione smiled. "What's up, though? Can I help?"

Harry sat back down in his seat and gazed at her squarely. "I dunno. I guess I'm just not chirpy or whatever. It's okay. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Hermione said, after a pause. "Well, I wanted to study with you for a reason, Harry."

"Yes," Harry said, after a moment's hesitation, openly mocking her attitude. "And?"

"Don't be funny," Hermione snapped. "I wanted to talk to you about Ginny."

"Ginny," Harry repeated slowly. He glanced around the common room and saw to his relief that they were the only ones there. "What about Ginny?"

"Well," Hermione said quietly. "She's been really down these last couple of weeks, and I wondered if you wanted to be in on a plan to make her feel better."

"A plan," Harry said suspiciously. "Go on."

"Well, I haven't thought of one yet!" Hermione said impatiently. "I just wanted to know what you thought!"

"Oh," Harry said, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I dunno."

"Oh, thanks," Hermione said sarcastically. "You're so helpful."

"Well..." Harry spread his hands. "What am I supposed to say? I dunno what to do about her."

Hermione glowered at him. "Haven't you got it yet?"

"What?" Harry was confused. "What am I supposed to get? I don't know every little thing about the inner-workings of Ginny's mind; I've no idea what's wrong with her."

"Oh, Harry, honestly!" Hermione stood up and began gathering her belongings. "If you haven't figured it out by now, then you can just wallow in your misery."

"What?" Harry stood up and grabbed her arm, preventing her from packing. "What are you on about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That was me trying to be subtle and tell you that Ginny is pining away after you in her bedroom day in, day out because you kissed her at Diagon Alley and then left her cold, but no, Harry Potter, you're just too dense to notice, aren't you!"

She snatched her arm away and finished packing while Harry stood, silent. He seemed to have lost his voice. His mouth kept opening and closing but no sound came out. Hermione rolled her eyes and started to head toward the girls' stairs.

"Wait!" Harry's voice came out in a squeak. Blushing, he looked down at the ground while Hermione made a show of turning around impatiently.

"Yes?" she enquired.

"Uh..." Harry stuttered. "How... how did you know that we... that I... um... about that?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione muttered. "If that's the only part about what I said that's bothering you, Harry, honestly..." She turned and stomped up the stairs, still muttering to herself. Her footsteps echoed in the empty common room as Harry sank back down on his chair.

The portrait hole swung open suddenly and Harry jumped. Neville and Ron entered, talking animatedly.

"That's not the way you're supposed to do it, Neville, I swear! You have to breathe in the scent of the tea as you swish it for the affinity with the leaves, remember?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"She didn't say that!" Neville protested. "She said to swish the cup like it says in 'Unfogging the Future' and then read the leaves, not smell them!"

"Not smell them, honestly, Neville!" Ron threw up in his hands. "Didn't you listen to her? You have to take notes about what she says in class so you can fudge it in the exam!"

"What?" Neville was about to argue further when he espied Harry at the table. "Harry, hi! You remember what Trelawney said about the tea leaves, right?"

"Sure," Harry replied quietly.

"Yes!" Neville exclaimed. "See, Ron, Harry agrees with me."

"Ron's right," Harry interrupted. "Sorry, Nev."

"Aww, bollocks," Neville groaned. "I'm going to bed." He nodded at Harry and headed up the stairs. Ron came over and sat by Harry, rubbing his temples.

"Long day," he noted.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"Bit busy," Ron said, looking at the floor.

"Fridays always are," Harry replied, watching Ron curiously.

"Yeah, good point." Ron looked at the fire. "Nearly out."

"Forgot to stoke it."

"I'll do that." Ron got up and retrieved the poker, stabbing at the wood in an effort to reignite the embers. "Get much study done?"

"A bit," Harry said, idly moving his Transfiguration book on top of and off his Potions workbook. He let it fall to the table from the pile and looked over at Ron. "Hermione just wanted to have a go at me, really."

"Really," Ron said, not looking at Harry. "Wouldn't be about Ginny, would it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, surprised. "How'd you know? She didn't say she'd talked to you about it."

"She didn't," Ron replied, watching a tiny flame lick at the orange embers. "But I'm not stupid."

"Eh?"

Ron turned to look at Harry. "Come on, Harry, she's my sister. I'd notice if she was moping around for weeks on end, wouldn't I?" He got up and sat at the table again. "She is my sister, after all. I didn't spend ten years playing around the Burrow with her to not know when she's hung up over a guy."

"Ah," Harry said, feeling guilty. "Sorry. I didn't mean to imply that."

Ron waved it away. "Doesn't matter. I probably don't pay her as much attention as I should, but that doesn't mean I don't care, Harry. I do, y'know." He looked Harry in the eye. "I care about her very deeply. If she were ever hurt, y'know... I'd be really crabby. Yeah." He let his gaze drop away. "In fact, if anyone ever hurt her, I'd pound the bastard into a pulp. But we won't go into that, eh?" He smiled at Harry. "I know you'd be the first person to stand by me. And her, o'course, right?"

"Of course..." Harry said slowly.

"Yeah," Ron nodded wisely. "I knew you'd see things my way, Harry. I'm glad we have this understanding."

"Ron..." Harry began. "I don't..."

"'Course, it'd be better if she wasn't so depressed all the time, but what can ya do, Harry? Nothing, eh? Women. Always moping around about something or another. If that's one thing I've learnt from having a sister, Harry, it's that they can always find something to complain about and if you don't give the right response they'll get cranky for days."

"Yeah," Harry said, wondered where all this was going.

"But still," Ron stretched, yawning openly. "We'll just have to give Neville a good talking-to in the morning and let him know that he needs to put Gin out of her misery, y'know? I mean, it's getting ridiculous. I took him away tonight while Hermione filled you in. She didn't have to ask, but I knew. It's not right. Neville's a great bloke and all, but what he's doing is wrong. He shouldn't build Ginny's hopes up like that. Still, what can you do with the drunken sailor?" Ron gave Harry a lopsided grin. "'Bout time for bed, innit? I'll see ya up there." He got up and went upstairs.

As soon as Harry heard the bedroom click shut, he erupted in gales of silent laughter. Neville! He thought, wiping tears from his eyes. Good grief.