A.N. Thanks to all for your patience. Getting a new computer didn't help, and then massive writer's block struck! Thanks to Shawn Pickett for inspiring me at exactly the right time and for giving me the will to write this new chapter.
Chapter Eleven
The trip through the Floo network seemed to take forever to Harry. All thoughts of training were temporarily forgotten in his concern for his best friend and his best friend's family. He was uncertain what he would do if he arrived to find devastation and prayed to whatever powers that were listening to find The Burrow in tact.
And then, what seemed like a lifetime later, the spinning stopped and he was stepping out of the fireplace in The Burrow, automatically dusting off his clothes even as he let his eyes and other senses take in his surroundings.
The relief of what he was seeing was so tangible that he felt his knees grow weak and he unceremoniously dropped to the floor, placing his head in his hands as he shook like a leaf with relief.
Mr. Weasley had arrived shortly before Harry, and his fear had been even more palpable. Nevertheless, the balding man had managed to keep enough of his wits about him to bellow for his family upon his arrival. And thus it was that even as Harry came tumbling out of the fireplace shortly after Mr. Weasley, the pounding and thudding of many feet could be heard approaching the living room from upstairs, and it was only vaguely that Harry realized that it was extremely late and that the rest of the family must have been sleeping.
He was snapped out of his momentary paralysis as a familiar voice called out sleepily, "Dad? Harry? What in Merlin's name is going on here?"
The voice belonged to his best friend, Ron Weasley. The tall, gangling youth stood in the doorway to the living room rubbing his eyes as if refusing to believe what he was seeing.
Slowly, a relieved smile spread over Harry's face upon seeing his friend clearly alive and unharmed. Climbing awkwardly to his feet, he forced as much joviality in to his voice as he could as he replied, "yup, its really me mate."
Ron moved forward and opened his mouth clearly wanting to ask what was going on, but another voice beat him to it.
"Arthur, what on earth---?" Mrs. Weasley pushed past her youngest son and ran over to her husband, hands outstretched.
Yet again, an interruption came before any explanations could be given.
"I am sorry to interrupt, Arthur, Molly, young Ronald," came Dumbledore's implacable voice. Harry realized he must have Apparated instead of using the Floo. "All conversations must wait. I must insist that you gather the rest of the family together along with any belongings you may need for the remainder of the summer and for Hogwarts and be back here in (he looked briefly at the wristwatch on his arm) twenty minutes. Use magic only if you must, but we must leave in no longer than twenty minutes."
Gathering the rest of the family who still resided at home, as it turned out, proved to be unnecessary. Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny had all raced downstairs the moment they had heard their father calling. The sound of Dumbledore's grave yet commanding tones made even the jokester twins move to comply with his orders without question. And, to Harry's complete and utter amazement, with the assistance of Dumbledore and their parents, everyone was completely ready to go within the twenty minute time period Dumbledore had set. Harry, himself, had been appointed by Dumbledore to pace the bottom floor and keep guard for the possible arrival of any Death Eaters. Luck, for once, seemed to be with them as there was no sign of any forthcoming attack, and Harry idly wondered if the failure of the two previous missions of the evening had delayed the attack on The Burrow, and found himself fervently hoping so.
Sooner than expected, the whole family was back and gathered by the fireplace. Dumbledore addressed them again as he paced slowly in front of them.
"We'll start with the youngest first. Just use the Floo and state your destination as twelve, Grimmauld Place."
To Harry's never ending surprise, they actually pulled it off without the interference of any Death Eaters. Perhaps he hadn't been wrong about his earlier assumption that the failed attacks earlier in the evening had put off the plans for an attack on The Burrow.
As he once again staggered from the Floo and began brushing himself off, he was not prepared for the hand whistling out of the shadows and connecting solidly with the side of his face.
"Harry James Potter! Don't you ever go rushing in to possible danger like that again! Of all the foolish things you have ever done, this one takes the cake! And here I was thinking that you possessed at least some common sense!"
He turned to gape in surprise at the irate girl standing in front of him, bushy brown hair waving madly in all directions as she angrily tossed her head while staring him down. Part of him wanted to laugh as he, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Jedi-to-be, hadn't sensed a thing. However, one look at her scowling features drove all thoughts of laughter from his mind.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?"
Harry grimaced internally again. He had been so focused on Hermione that he had forgotten that they had an audience. Ron was staring curiously between the two of them, and Harry, finally paying attention to his senses, was surprised at the confusing swirl of emotions radiating off of his best friend.
"I think we would all like to know that," came the voice of Mrs. Weasley as she finished brushing the soot off of Ginny. The girl, for her part, was staring at Harry with a look of dog-like adoration he found all too familiar.
"It is a long story, Molly," Dumbledore cut in quickly. "Please be seated, all of you, and we can tell the story."
Once everyone had seated themselves around the large table, Dumbledore delighted them all by conjuring up butterbeers for each of them. Feeling the warm liquid making its way down his throat, Harry felt no qualms about letting the headmaster tell the story.
As the headmaster progressed with his tale, Harry could not help but note the varying feelings of those in the room around him. Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley seemed shocked with every new revelation Dumbledore made. Percy's face was set in a scowl of disapproval from the very beginning which only got worse as the story progressed, and Ginny continued to sit there and listen, a somewhat vacant expression on her face. Idly Harry wondered if the girl was always this foolish and spaced out or if it just happened when she was around him. He quickly began chastising himself for this very judgmental thought; after all, Ginny was Ron's little sister, and therefore, the closest thing to family he had.
Ron's reaction was the most interesting. Harry had always known he had harbored some slight jealousy over Harry's seemingly, to Ron at least, constant stream of good fortune. This jealousy had reared its ugly head for the first time the previous year when Harry's name had been pulled out of the Goblet of Fire as a fourth participant in the Triwizard Tournament, which in itself had been bazaar as there were only supposed to be three contestants, one for each school. Ron had steadfastly refused to believe that Harry had not somehow tricked the Goblet in to letting him enter his name and somehow fooling the same Goblet in to accepting him in to the tournament. Eventually, Ron had apologized and Harry had accepted it, but he knew that Ron's jealousy would be likely to crop up again.
And as he continued to sit back and listen to Dumbledore recount the story as Harry had told him, adding in his own bits where Harry had not been present, Harry sensed the flame of jealous indignation being fanned high inside Ron. Internally, he grimaced, knowing full well it was only a matter of time before Ron would no longer be able to contain himself and his jealousy would come springing forth like Jack from his box. Sure enough, as the headmaster finished his tale, it was less than five seconds before the expected explosion came.
"So, once again, Perfect Powerful Protector Potter is there to save the day!"
Mrs. Weasley let out a squeak of outrage at this outburst. Ginny blinked in obvious confusion. Hermione scowled furiously at Ron and was next to speak.
"In case you haven't noticed, Ron, Harry saved my whole family from death, and probably a fate worse than death."
"Oh yes, he is a bloody hero, after all," Ron shot back, jumping up and wheeling to face her, his hair rapidly being matched in its redness by his cheeks and ears.
"Would you have rather she was dead, Ron, or perhaps worse," Harry asked mildly.
And outwardly he looked calm enough. But inwardly, it was a different story. He had known Ron would be jealous about his role as a Jedi in training. However, he had not expected Ron to get so angry when he found out that Harry had been involved with saving Hermione and her parents. And the fact that he, Ron, was getting angry at her made absolutely no sense and started his blood boiling.
"You know I'm very glad her and her parents are alive," Ron growled turning back to face Harry. "The fact that it was you that saved her is the thing that has me brassed off. It's always you who gets everyone's gratitude by being in the right place at the right time. I'm beginning to think that you somehow manage to set it up that way, pretending like you have no idea what is going on, just so you can show up in time to play the hero again."
Through his growing anger, Harry was able to sense what was about to happen, but was a split second too late to act to stop it.
SMACK!
SMACK!
Ron's head lolled from side to side like a puppet on loose strings as first Hermione then Mrs. Weasleys' hands made contact with his cheeks.
"RONALD WEASLEY, YOU WILL APOLOGIZE TO HARRY AT ONCE!"
The volume of Mrs. Weasley's shriek made the few dishes still in the kitchen rattle on their shelves, and Harry was amazed to hear an answering scream in return from somewhere else in the house.
"FILTHY TRAITORS! PITIFUL RESULTS OF MUTATED SEED! VILE MUDBLOODS AND MUDBLOOD-LOVERS. HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK WITH YOUR OUTBURSTS?"
Cursing, Sirius sprang up and hurried from the kitchen to silence the portrait of his mother that still hung in the entrance hall of the house.
Mrs. Weasley, however, paid no attention to his departure, though she did lower her voice, speaking instead in a deadly whisper that carried even more venom than her shriek.
"How dare you speak to your friend this way? Harry has done nothing but try and be a good friend to you, and to hear you talk like this shames not only yourself but our whole family. Have you forgotten that Harry saved Ginny's life when she was taken in to the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Which you have to be a Parselmouth to enter, and how odd that Harry was a Parselmouth," Ron sneered.
"You know very well that he had nothing to do with the fact that Ginny was taken down there or that You-Know-Who gave him the Parseltongue ability," Hermione spat with growing fury, her face so close to Ron's that little droplets of spittle landed on Ron's cheeks as she hissed each word in her fury.
"Of course you are defending him," Ron shouted back. He was not intimidated by her proximity to his person at all, which he would have been if he had been thinking clearly. "Let's see. Now that Harry has saved your whole family, you'll be even more apt to defend him. Or maybe you have a different reward in mind. Maybe you plan on fucking him senseless to show your grati- - -"
Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all made moves to silence Ron. Hermione's hand flew back to administer yet another blow to Ron's face. But none of them moved anywhere near fast enough.
For Ron was not standing in front of Hermione anymore. Instead, he was up against the far wall of the kitchen, gasping for breath, an invisible arm seeming to be holding him up by the throat.
And Harry was advancing on him.
Harry's eyes silenced Ron more effectively than could any slap or verbal tirade from his mother. The green orbs seemed to sparkle with a barely contained fire, and a sensation like electricity seemed to pass through the kitchen, leaving not one person with hair that was unaffected. So terrified was Ron that he noted only with a slight amount of surprise that Harry was not walking, but gliding towards him, his feet not actually making contact with the ground.
When Harry finally came to a stop, his face was so close to Ron's that he might have been about to give him a kiss. Instead, he spoke in a voice that was so low and soft that nobody but Ron should have been able to hear it. However, everyone in the kitchen managed to hear the barely uttered words.
"Ron, you can insult me all you want. You can blame me for doing everything in my power to save people I care about if you want. I don't even care if you doubt my sincerity when I say that I only do what any decent person would do. But you will never insult Hermione again in my presence. She has been the truest friend anyone could ever want. She has stood by my side and believed in me when no one else did, and I do mean no one. She has always looked out for my best interests even if she knew that I would get angry at her, like that whole episode with the Firebolt."
Harry's gaze bored in to Ron.
"I've warned you, Ron. It is up to you if you have enough common sense to listen or not. Believe me when I tell you that this is your last warning"
With that said, he forced his anger down and turned away, ignoring the thump that Ron made as he was released from his hold, landing unceremoniously on the floor.
Hermione moved to stop him, but he gently pushed past her and strode out of the kitchen, passing Sirius on his way back in.
He had some thinking to do. He didn't know why he had reacted so violently when Ron had made that horrible crack about Hermione. All he could remember was thinking that no one would ever talk bad about Hermione while Harry could prevent it. For some reason, it seemed to Harry that protecting her was the most important thing in the world for him.
A loud, angry voice interrupted his dark thoughts, surprisingly not waking Mrs. Black's portrait. To Harry's no small amount of surprise, it was Ron's voice that was raised in anger. Harry had thought he would be somewhat subdued after their recent confrontation. Obviously he had been wrong. Also, it appeared that he had missed some vital points of the conversation that was taking place in the kitchen.
"You know I have liked you throughout most of fourth year," Ron's voice rang out, shrill with anger and some other emotion that Harry, whose senses were somewhat overloaded by the emotions running rampant around him, was unable to determine. "Ever since the Quidditch World Cup. I thought that once you went with Vicky to the Yule Ball with him and saw my reaction, you would have realized this."
"Firstly, Ronald," Hermione replied, her voice somewhat calmer than before yet still laced with an undertone of anger. "His name is Viktor. However, I'm sure you realize that because his name is actually in one of the Quidditch books you own, I'm sure."
"You should try reading a Quidditch book," Ron began.
"Secondly," Hermione continued as if he had not spoken at all. "If you liked me like you say you did ---"
"Do," he corrected her instantly.
"Then you should have told me instead of constantly acting like a three-year-old who just got his favorite toy taken away whenever I so much as speak to another guy."
"It wouldn't have mattered," Ron blurted out, his voice rising, if possible, into an even more enraged and angry squeak. "You wouldn't have taken me seriously anyway!"
"Perhaps if you took anything in life seriously other than flying around on a broomstick and seeing how many study sessions you could avoid, I might take you more seriously. There was even a time last year when I would have loved for you to ask me out. Now, though, seeing your behavior towards someone who has been your friend unfailingly for four years, I am glad that nothing happened between us."
Although he could not see his face, Harry had finally been able to zero in on Ron's emotions. During Hermione's diatribe, his emotions had flickered from indignation, to shock and hope, and finally to a mix of blind fury and aching sadness.
Unfortunately for Ron, as was usually the case, his hot-headed nature took over and was reflected in his next words.
"Ah, yes! Now I understand. Now that famous Harry Potter has saved the lives of your family, you have decided that common people like me are no longer good enough for you to notice, and only famous Harry Potter could possibly ever have a place in your heart now. Well, guess what? It's not going to happen. You see, my sister Ginny has had her eye on him since she first met him, and you will not get in the way of her chances with him."
"Thanks, Ron," Ginny piped up, sounding as though she had just woken up and did not have a clue as to what was going on. "At least someone in my family realizes who I am meant to be with."
In the hall, Harry was seething. How dare these people presume to know what he was feeling and, more importantly, whom he was supposed to like. He was on the verge of storming back in to the kitchen and giving the combatants a piece of his mind when he felt a ghostly hand squeeze his shoulder. For just a split second, he felt Obi-Wan's presence on the edge of his senses, and the calm radiating from the Jedi master was sufficient enough to calm him down enough to stay where he was. A second later, he was glad he did so.
"Ronald," Hermione said in a voice that said 'why do I have to spell everything out for you'? "Let me tell you a few facts that are going to hurt you a bit. I'm sorry to do this, but someone has to. First of all, Harry does not belong to Ginny. Harry does not belong to me. Harry belongs to himself and whom he chooses to be with is between him and whoever he chooses, even if it is Peeves the Poltergeist."
Harry winced.
"Secondly, you just accused me of liking Harry because he saved my life and the lives of my parents. I am grateful to him, more grateful than I can say. However, I have liked Harry before this. Just as I have liked you before this. We have all been the best of friends, and there has never been anything more than that on my part, save the crush I had on you early last year.
"And finally, let me tell you the conclusions I have just come to. Let me tell you about the relationship between me and Harry. Harry has always been there for me. He does not laugh at my ideas and my study habits. He may try and get me to take breaks from time to time, but he realizes how important studying is to me. Also, he does not try and antagonize me at every statement I make.
"And in the last few minutes, Ronald, I have realized something else. The reason you and I became friends is because of Harry. Can you honestly tell me that it was you who remembered that I didn't know about the troll in first year?"
Ron apparently shook his head.
"You see. It has been Harry who has kept us friends all these years. I do not honestly believe that you would have sought me out to become my friend on your own.
"And finally, the thing that is probably going to hurt you. After knowing the two of you and finally seeing who you really are tonight, I realize that you and I could never work as a couple. I could never be satisfied by someone whose only interests in life consist of wondering how soon he will get to eat again, how many Chocolate Frogs he can eat at once, who performed the Wanky Feint in 1367, how much study time can he expect to be able to get out of each day, and how much he wishes he had the things in life his best friend does, never mind the fact that said friend lost his parents and any chance at a happy home life to get them.
"Therefore, Ronald Billius Weasley, I, Hermione Granger, can tell you that until you feel the urge to grow up, my final words to you are PISS OFF!"
This last was said with a cross between a scream and a sob. And with that, the kitchen door flew open again and Hermione ran from the room, facade cracking, tears coursing down her already tear-stained cheeks. Harry made a move to stop her as she ran blindly by him, but she pushed his hand off her shoulder and continued her stumbling run through the mysterious and foreboding Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.
Dead silence remained behind her, those still remaining in the kitchen too shocked or angry to speak.
And Harry, despite his rudimentary Jedi training, felt absolutely and completely helpless which only made him angry. Yet, even then, a small part of him felt a warm glow of happiness at how Hermione had defended him.
Life sure was confusing sometimes.
TBC
Chapter Eleven
The trip through the Floo network seemed to take forever to Harry. All thoughts of training were temporarily forgotten in his concern for his best friend and his best friend's family. He was uncertain what he would do if he arrived to find devastation and prayed to whatever powers that were listening to find The Burrow in tact.
And then, what seemed like a lifetime later, the spinning stopped and he was stepping out of the fireplace in The Burrow, automatically dusting off his clothes even as he let his eyes and other senses take in his surroundings.
The relief of what he was seeing was so tangible that he felt his knees grow weak and he unceremoniously dropped to the floor, placing his head in his hands as he shook like a leaf with relief.
Mr. Weasley had arrived shortly before Harry, and his fear had been even more palpable. Nevertheless, the balding man had managed to keep enough of his wits about him to bellow for his family upon his arrival. And thus it was that even as Harry came tumbling out of the fireplace shortly after Mr. Weasley, the pounding and thudding of many feet could be heard approaching the living room from upstairs, and it was only vaguely that Harry realized that it was extremely late and that the rest of the family must have been sleeping.
He was snapped out of his momentary paralysis as a familiar voice called out sleepily, "Dad? Harry? What in Merlin's name is going on here?"
The voice belonged to his best friend, Ron Weasley. The tall, gangling youth stood in the doorway to the living room rubbing his eyes as if refusing to believe what he was seeing.
Slowly, a relieved smile spread over Harry's face upon seeing his friend clearly alive and unharmed. Climbing awkwardly to his feet, he forced as much joviality in to his voice as he could as he replied, "yup, its really me mate."
Ron moved forward and opened his mouth clearly wanting to ask what was going on, but another voice beat him to it.
"Arthur, what on earth---?" Mrs. Weasley pushed past her youngest son and ran over to her husband, hands outstretched.
Yet again, an interruption came before any explanations could be given.
"I am sorry to interrupt, Arthur, Molly, young Ronald," came Dumbledore's implacable voice. Harry realized he must have Apparated instead of using the Floo. "All conversations must wait. I must insist that you gather the rest of the family together along with any belongings you may need for the remainder of the summer and for Hogwarts and be back here in (he looked briefly at the wristwatch on his arm) twenty minutes. Use magic only if you must, but we must leave in no longer than twenty minutes."
Gathering the rest of the family who still resided at home, as it turned out, proved to be unnecessary. Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny had all raced downstairs the moment they had heard their father calling. The sound of Dumbledore's grave yet commanding tones made even the jokester twins move to comply with his orders without question. And, to Harry's complete and utter amazement, with the assistance of Dumbledore and their parents, everyone was completely ready to go within the twenty minute time period Dumbledore had set. Harry, himself, had been appointed by Dumbledore to pace the bottom floor and keep guard for the possible arrival of any Death Eaters. Luck, for once, seemed to be with them as there was no sign of any forthcoming attack, and Harry idly wondered if the failure of the two previous missions of the evening had delayed the attack on The Burrow, and found himself fervently hoping so.
Sooner than expected, the whole family was back and gathered by the fireplace. Dumbledore addressed them again as he paced slowly in front of them.
"We'll start with the youngest first. Just use the Floo and state your destination as twelve, Grimmauld Place."
To Harry's never ending surprise, they actually pulled it off without the interference of any Death Eaters. Perhaps he hadn't been wrong about his earlier assumption that the failed attacks earlier in the evening had put off the plans for an attack on The Burrow.
As he once again staggered from the Floo and began brushing himself off, he was not prepared for the hand whistling out of the shadows and connecting solidly with the side of his face.
"Harry James Potter! Don't you ever go rushing in to possible danger like that again! Of all the foolish things you have ever done, this one takes the cake! And here I was thinking that you possessed at least some common sense!"
He turned to gape in surprise at the irate girl standing in front of him, bushy brown hair waving madly in all directions as she angrily tossed her head while staring him down. Part of him wanted to laugh as he, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Jedi-to-be, hadn't sensed a thing. However, one look at her scowling features drove all thoughts of laughter from his mind.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?"
Harry grimaced internally again. He had been so focused on Hermione that he had forgotten that they had an audience. Ron was staring curiously between the two of them, and Harry, finally paying attention to his senses, was surprised at the confusing swirl of emotions radiating off of his best friend.
"I think we would all like to know that," came the voice of Mrs. Weasley as she finished brushing the soot off of Ginny. The girl, for her part, was staring at Harry with a look of dog-like adoration he found all too familiar.
"It is a long story, Molly," Dumbledore cut in quickly. "Please be seated, all of you, and we can tell the story."
Once everyone had seated themselves around the large table, Dumbledore delighted them all by conjuring up butterbeers for each of them. Feeling the warm liquid making its way down his throat, Harry felt no qualms about letting the headmaster tell the story.
As the headmaster progressed with his tale, Harry could not help but note the varying feelings of those in the room around him. Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley seemed shocked with every new revelation Dumbledore made. Percy's face was set in a scowl of disapproval from the very beginning which only got worse as the story progressed, and Ginny continued to sit there and listen, a somewhat vacant expression on her face. Idly Harry wondered if the girl was always this foolish and spaced out or if it just happened when she was around him. He quickly began chastising himself for this very judgmental thought; after all, Ginny was Ron's little sister, and therefore, the closest thing to family he had.
Ron's reaction was the most interesting. Harry had always known he had harbored some slight jealousy over Harry's seemingly, to Ron at least, constant stream of good fortune. This jealousy had reared its ugly head for the first time the previous year when Harry's name had been pulled out of the Goblet of Fire as a fourth participant in the Triwizard Tournament, which in itself had been bazaar as there were only supposed to be three contestants, one for each school. Ron had steadfastly refused to believe that Harry had not somehow tricked the Goblet in to letting him enter his name and somehow fooling the same Goblet in to accepting him in to the tournament. Eventually, Ron had apologized and Harry had accepted it, but he knew that Ron's jealousy would be likely to crop up again.
And as he continued to sit back and listen to Dumbledore recount the story as Harry had told him, adding in his own bits where Harry had not been present, Harry sensed the flame of jealous indignation being fanned high inside Ron. Internally, he grimaced, knowing full well it was only a matter of time before Ron would no longer be able to contain himself and his jealousy would come springing forth like Jack from his box. Sure enough, as the headmaster finished his tale, it was less than five seconds before the expected explosion came.
"So, once again, Perfect Powerful Protector Potter is there to save the day!"
Mrs. Weasley let out a squeak of outrage at this outburst. Ginny blinked in obvious confusion. Hermione scowled furiously at Ron and was next to speak.
"In case you haven't noticed, Ron, Harry saved my whole family from death, and probably a fate worse than death."
"Oh yes, he is a bloody hero, after all," Ron shot back, jumping up and wheeling to face her, his hair rapidly being matched in its redness by his cheeks and ears.
"Would you have rather she was dead, Ron, or perhaps worse," Harry asked mildly.
And outwardly he looked calm enough. But inwardly, it was a different story. He had known Ron would be jealous about his role as a Jedi in training. However, he had not expected Ron to get so angry when he found out that Harry had been involved with saving Hermione and her parents. And the fact that he, Ron, was getting angry at her made absolutely no sense and started his blood boiling.
"You know I'm very glad her and her parents are alive," Ron growled turning back to face Harry. "The fact that it was you that saved her is the thing that has me brassed off. It's always you who gets everyone's gratitude by being in the right place at the right time. I'm beginning to think that you somehow manage to set it up that way, pretending like you have no idea what is going on, just so you can show up in time to play the hero again."
Through his growing anger, Harry was able to sense what was about to happen, but was a split second too late to act to stop it.
SMACK!
SMACK!
Ron's head lolled from side to side like a puppet on loose strings as first Hermione then Mrs. Weasleys' hands made contact with his cheeks.
"RONALD WEASLEY, YOU WILL APOLOGIZE TO HARRY AT ONCE!"
The volume of Mrs. Weasley's shriek made the few dishes still in the kitchen rattle on their shelves, and Harry was amazed to hear an answering scream in return from somewhere else in the house.
"FILTHY TRAITORS! PITIFUL RESULTS OF MUTATED SEED! VILE MUDBLOODS AND MUDBLOOD-LOVERS. HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK WITH YOUR OUTBURSTS?"
Cursing, Sirius sprang up and hurried from the kitchen to silence the portrait of his mother that still hung in the entrance hall of the house.
Mrs. Weasley, however, paid no attention to his departure, though she did lower her voice, speaking instead in a deadly whisper that carried even more venom than her shriek.
"How dare you speak to your friend this way? Harry has done nothing but try and be a good friend to you, and to hear you talk like this shames not only yourself but our whole family. Have you forgotten that Harry saved Ginny's life when she was taken in to the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Which you have to be a Parselmouth to enter, and how odd that Harry was a Parselmouth," Ron sneered.
"You know very well that he had nothing to do with the fact that Ginny was taken down there or that You-Know-Who gave him the Parseltongue ability," Hermione spat with growing fury, her face so close to Ron's that little droplets of spittle landed on Ron's cheeks as she hissed each word in her fury.
"Of course you are defending him," Ron shouted back. He was not intimidated by her proximity to his person at all, which he would have been if he had been thinking clearly. "Let's see. Now that Harry has saved your whole family, you'll be even more apt to defend him. Or maybe you have a different reward in mind. Maybe you plan on fucking him senseless to show your grati- - -"
Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all made moves to silence Ron. Hermione's hand flew back to administer yet another blow to Ron's face. But none of them moved anywhere near fast enough.
For Ron was not standing in front of Hermione anymore. Instead, he was up against the far wall of the kitchen, gasping for breath, an invisible arm seeming to be holding him up by the throat.
And Harry was advancing on him.
Harry's eyes silenced Ron more effectively than could any slap or verbal tirade from his mother. The green orbs seemed to sparkle with a barely contained fire, and a sensation like electricity seemed to pass through the kitchen, leaving not one person with hair that was unaffected. So terrified was Ron that he noted only with a slight amount of surprise that Harry was not walking, but gliding towards him, his feet not actually making contact with the ground.
When Harry finally came to a stop, his face was so close to Ron's that he might have been about to give him a kiss. Instead, he spoke in a voice that was so low and soft that nobody but Ron should have been able to hear it. However, everyone in the kitchen managed to hear the barely uttered words.
"Ron, you can insult me all you want. You can blame me for doing everything in my power to save people I care about if you want. I don't even care if you doubt my sincerity when I say that I only do what any decent person would do. But you will never insult Hermione again in my presence. She has been the truest friend anyone could ever want. She has stood by my side and believed in me when no one else did, and I do mean no one. She has always looked out for my best interests even if she knew that I would get angry at her, like that whole episode with the Firebolt."
Harry's gaze bored in to Ron.
"I've warned you, Ron. It is up to you if you have enough common sense to listen or not. Believe me when I tell you that this is your last warning"
With that said, he forced his anger down and turned away, ignoring the thump that Ron made as he was released from his hold, landing unceremoniously on the floor.
Hermione moved to stop him, but he gently pushed past her and strode out of the kitchen, passing Sirius on his way back in.
He had some thinking to do. He didn't know why he had reacted so violently when Ron had made that horrible crack about Hermione. All he could remember was thinking that no one would ever talk bad about Hermione while Harry could prevent it. For some reason, it seemed to Harry that protecting her was the most important thing in the world for him.
A loud, angry voice interrupted his dark thoughts, surprisingly not waking Mrs. Black's portrait. To Harry's no small amount of surprise, it was Ron's voice that was raised in anger. Harry had thought he would be somewhat subdued after their recent confrontation. Obviously he had been wrong. Also, it appeared that he had missed some vital points of the conversation that was taking place in the kitchen.
"You know I have liked you throughout most of fourth year," Ron's voice rang out, shrill with anger and some other emotion that Harry, whose senses were somewhat overloaded by the emotions running rampant around him, was unable to determine. "Ever since the Quidditch World Cup. I thought that once you went with Vicky to the Yule Ball with him and saw my reaction, you would have realized this."
"Firstly, Ronald," Hermione replied, her voice somewhat calmer than before yet still laced with an undertone of anger. "His name is Viktor. However, I'm sure you realize that because his name is actually in one of the Quidditch books you own, I'm sure."
"You should try reading a Quidditch book," Ron began.
"Secondly," Hermione continued as if he had not spoken at all. "If you liked me like you say you did ---"
"Do," he corrected her instantly.
"Then you should have told me instead of constantly acting like a three-year-old who just got his favorite toy taken away whenever I so much as speak to another guy."
"It wouldn't have mattered," Ron blurted out, his voice rising, if possible, into an even more enraged and angry squeak. "You wouldn't have taken me seriously anyway!"
"Perhaps if you took anything in life seriously other than flying around on a broomstick and seeing how many study sessions you could avoid, I might take you more seriously. There was even a time last year when I would have loved for you to ask me out. Now, though, seeing your behavior towards someone who has been your friend unfailingly for four years, I am glad that nothing happened between us."
Although he could not see his face, Harry had finally been able to zero in on Ron's emotions. During Hermione's diatribe, his emotions had flickered from indignation, to shock and hope, and finally to a mix of blind fury and aching sadness.
Unfortunately for Ron, as was usually the case, his hot-headed nature took over and was reflected in his next words.
"Ah, yes! Now I understand. Now that famous Harry Potter has saved the lives of your family, you have decided that common people like me are no longer good enough for you to notice, and only famous Harry Potter could possibly ever have a place in your heart now. Well, guess what? It's not going to happen. You see, my sister Ginny has had her eye on him since she first met him, and you will not get in the way of her chances with him."
"Thanks, Ron," Ginny piped up, sounding as though she had just woken up and did not have a clue as to what was going on. "At least someone in my family realizes who I am meant to be with."
In the hall, Harry was seething. How dare these people presume to know what he was feeling and, more importantly, whom he was supposed to like. He was on the verge of storming back in to the kitchen and giving the combatants a piece of his mind when he felt a ghostly hand squeeze his shoulder. For just a split second, he felt Obi-Wan's presence on the edge of his senses, and the calm radiating from the Jedi master was sufficient enough to calm him down enough to stay where he was. A second later, he was glad he did so.
"Ronald," Hermione said in a voice that said 'why do I have to spell everything out for you'? "Let me tell you a few facts that are going to hurt you a bit. I'm sorry to do this, but someone has to. First of all, Harry does not belong to Ginny. Harry does not belong to me. Harry belongs to himself and whom he chooses to be with is between him and whoever he chooses, even if it is Peeves the Poltergeist."
Harry winced.
"Secondly, you just accused me of liking Harry because he saved my life and the lives of my parents. I am grateful to him, more grateful than I can say. However, I have liked Harry before this. Just as I have liked you before this. We have all been the best of friends, and there has never been anything more than that on my part, save the crush I had on you early last year.
"And finally, let me tell you the conclusions I have just come to. Let me tell you about the relationship between me and Harry. Harry has always been there for me. He does not laugh at my ideas and my study habits. He may try and get me to take breaks from time to time, but he realizes how important studying is to me. Also, he does not try and antagonize me at every statement I make.
"And in the last few minutes, Ronald, I have realized something else. The reason you and I became friends is because of Harry. Can you honestly tell me that it was you who remembered that I didn't know about the troll in first year?"
Ron apparently shook his head.
"You see. It has been Harry who has kept us friends all these years. I do not honestly believe that you would have sought me out to become my friend on your own.
"And finally, the thing that is probably going to hurt you. After knowing the two of you and finally seeing who you really are tonight, I realize that you and I could never work as a couple. I could never be satisfied by someone whose only interests in life consist of wondering how soon he will get to eat again, how many Chocolate Frogs he can eat at once, who performed the Wanky Feint in 1367, how much study time can he expect to be able to get out of each day, and how much he wishes he had the things in life his best friend does, never mind the fact that said friend lost his parents and any chance at a happy home life to get them.
"Therefore, Ronald Billius Weasley, I, Hermione Granger, can tell you that until you feel the urge to grow up, my final words to you are PISS OFF!"
This last was said with a cross between a scream and a sob. And with that, the kitchen door flew open again and Hermione ran from the room, facade cracking, tears coursing down her already tear-stained cheeks. Harry made a move to stop her as she ran blindly by him, but she pushed his hand off her shoulder and continued her stumbling run through the mysterious and foreboding Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.
Dead silence remained behind her, those still remaining in the kitchen too shocked or angry to speak.
And Harry, despite his rudimentary Jedi training, felt absolutely and completely helpless which only made him angry. Yet, even then, a small part of him felt a warm glow of happiness at how Hermione had defended him.
Life sure was confusing sometimes.
TBC