Chapter Twenty-Two:

Overhearing

It was perhaps one of the most awful feelings that had ever overcome Harry. He'd been tired of lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed and decided he was going to try to get up. It was also perhaps a bad idea because immediately his head was filled with a nauseating pain. Falling back onto the now more than familiar hospital sheets, he pressed the palm of his hand firmly against the lightning-bolt scar. The pressure seemed to lessen the pain, but a hint of it still lingered after his hand was removed.

Forcing himself up, he staggered into the middle of the room. He was glad Madame Pomfrey wasn't around because she would have made an awful fuss, which was something he did not need right then.

A cool gust of wind came flowing into the room like fresh water into salt, and Harry spotted the open window, curtains blowing in the breeze. Perhaps that was what he needed. Perhaps the cool air would calm his senses. He could use some numbing, he thought. After the night before, he didn't feel much like feeling anything.

Upon reaching the window, another wave of pain erupted in his forehead and he fell forward, the windowsill looking very inviting. Waves upon waves of jolting pain ate away at him. He felt he was going to be sick – perhaps that was why Dumbledore had instructed him to stay in bed. But, he didn't feel much like lying awake in an uncomfortable hospital cot while he fumed in his anger and wallowed in his sadness at the breakup he'd just been a part of.

The air was much cooler with his head out the window and he fell to his knees, resting his head on his folded arms. He did feel better now that he wasn't raging with heat. The pain slowly subsided once again. He hoped now more than ever that the throbbing wouldn't become a pattern.

About to nod asleep at the sill, Harry's eyelids drooped. But then he heard a voice below his window. It sounded like the voice was talking to him, so he opened his eyes to see who it was. The voice was familiar, but the pain seemed to have affected his hearing, making everything fuzz up like static on a muggle radio station.

His window was overlooking the grounds and the Great Lake. If he weren't almost dying, he probably would have enjoyed the view. But, the voice caught his attention and he soon forgot all about the pain.

Peering over the large stone sill, he spotted Hermione. That immediately crushed his idea that the person was calling up to him. She was walking towards someone, the person she had called to. Harry couldn't see who it was because the trees beside the castle were blocking the person from view.

Slowly, he made out what Hermione was saying between static.

"...What're you doing here? I thought I was all alone."

Harry recognized happiness in her voice, as though her tone betrayed her words. She was actually happy to see who it was. Perhaps it was Ron. Harry couldn't see, but he guessed that was who it was.

But then the voice of the other person floated up to him and he didn't recognize it as Ron's voice.

"I've been looking for you all day! Where in the world were you first period?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione was skipping classes now? What next? She definitely wasn't the girl he knew his first year at Hogwarts.

"I kind of needed some time to myself...that's all."

Time to herself? Or time to laugh about her triumph the previous night? Was it really that exhausting to tell Harry they were through? But Harry didn't have much time to ponder this because the conversation went on.

"I see. Well, you got me worried. After everything that's happened... You know how it is."

He guessed Hermione nodded because her hair bobbed a little. He was of course watching this with the top of her head being the main focus from where he was positioned.

"I know. I guess I just had to think about stuff."

The person went on, curiously. He wasn't the only one. Harry was listening intently.

"Stuff? What kind of stuff?"

Hermione paused for a moment, then gave a long sigh, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Oh...last night I snuck out of the Gryffindor Common Room to go to the Hospital Wing."

The other person seemed to become understanding. At least, that's what it sounded like in his voice.

"To see Harry?"

Hermione nodded this time.

"Yeah...and to...you know, break it off."

The other person jumped right in.

"Really?"

Was it just Harry, or did that statement sound really happy? He guessed it just sounded happy because Hermione seemed to brighten.

"Yeah. I couldn't help it...I mean, we weren't getting along and everything. So, I wanted out. We were better friends."

"I'll say. Speaking of relationships..."

Oh no, Harry thought to himself. Not this. Not now. I really don't need it.

"I was wondering...Dumbledore just announced a dance for Friday this morning. At breakfast, you know." Harry knew where this was going. He didn't have to be a genius and he wasn't that thick. "I was wondering if we could go. As a couple – I mean."

Hermione didn't reply. So, the voice went on.

"It'd be a chance to get out in the open with this. No more sneaking around after classes and whatnot."

Hermione nodded slowly this time.

"I suppose we could. It's probably a good thing that people know what's going on between you and me..."

No! Harry thought. She dumped me for someone else?! What did I do? Why do I deserve this?

"Great!" the other voice said and a person came out of hiding and embraced Hermione. If Harry was questioning who it was before, he sure wasn't now. In the sunlight, he could see. The blonde hair said it all. It was Draco Malfoy.

Getting up, Harry didn't even notice the pain that was still in his forehead. He didn't have time to. He had plans.

Grabbing his robes from off the chair, he pulled them on and started out of the Hospital Wing, into the corridors to somewhere he could be alone.

"Awesome!" Oliver Wood exclaimed as Ron swooped out of the air on his broom and caught the Quaffle. The leather ball was a little worn out, but Ron still gripped it like a pro after practicing on the ground a thousand times it seemed.

The private lessons with Wood were more than exciting. Never before in his life had Ron been given personal attention to something he was good at. Something he could be good at. Quidditch almost made a mockery of him the year before, but now he could see himself becoming a great player.

Enjoying the cool evening air, Ron threw the Quaffle back down to Wood and maneuvered his broom back into the air, circling the goal posts a few times before coming down for a landing.

The grass rippled out as he planted his feet on the ground, stepping over his broom and receiving a pat on the back from Wood.

"You did great tonight, Ron." he reassured Ron with a large smile. That said more than words could.

"I feel great!" Ron replied, helping Wood put away the balls, securing the chest that they were stored in. For once in his life, things were going his way. The way they were supposed to be. The way they should be.

"You may feel great now," Wood started, "But if you don't shower and stretch, those muscles are going to ache tomorrow. I worked you as hard as a professional Keeper. Head on inside and I'll see you tomorrow before the game – if Dumbledore permits me."

"Why wouldn't he permit you?" Ron asked as he shouldered his broom and started walking with Wood, dragging the chest behind him.

"Well," Wood started. "Let's just say this isn't supposed to be known by anyone. Slytherin has had a personal trainer in the past, and Dumbledore's only letting me train you this time because he feels it's only fair to the other teams. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff will get theirs in due time, but its kind of pointless that they have one now when they're out of the league."

Ron nodded. That was true.

"But, anyway," Wood went on. "Get on up to the Locker Room and get to bed. You'll need all the sleep you can get. You don't have any homework to do, do you?"

Ron thought it over. He did, but it was only little stuff. He could easily get it done within twenty minutes.

"No."

"You sure? I can get an extension on the due dates."

Ron was really enjoying the attention, but decided that he'd rather not get behind in his work.

"No, I'm sure. No big deal."

Wood nodded.

"Well, hopefully I'll get to talk to you before the game tomorrow."

With a parting handshake, (awkward because of the things they were carrying) Ron made his way to the Quidditch Showers. The thought of a nice, warm shower was inviting after his long training session. The sweat clung to him like powder from a donut on fingers. Rubbing his forehead, he took off a layer of cool moisture. It wasn't dripping down him, but it still stayed with him.

He was pleased to find that the corridors were empty. It was late and the sun was almost set, so everyone were probably in their Common Rooms or their beds. It didn't bother Ron. He liked the quiet.

Entering the showers, he pulled off his robes and let them fall to the floor. He was glad to drop the added weight of dirty robes. They were made of silk, so that added a little awfulness to them when he was hot. The fabric seemed to trap the heat within his robes and he didn't like it on some days. If it was cold out, they were great. But other than that...

Turning on the shower, he ran his hand under the faucet head to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold. He planned on letting it run for a minute or two before he actually stepped in. That way he wouldn't get caught in the middle of a temperature change. They tended to do that at night. He only knew that because of the late night Quidditch games between he and Harry they'd had towards the beginning of the season.

That was perhaps as close to training as Ron had ever gotten. But, he still had had fun around Harry and then the showers were deserted so they had their choice of the best ones. There were best ones because Harry had secretly tested them each out, alternating between a few after each game. It was sort of a game to him. Ron was always amused watching Harry turn each of the showers on as he ran his hand under the jets of water.

Later on, after trying each one, he had concluded that the one to the far end of the showers was the best. It wasn't one of the ones that would switch from hot to cold for a few seconds in the middle of a shower. This had happened to Ron multiple times in the past.

Now the perfect shower was his. It felt good. Things really were going his way.

Shedding the rest of his clothes, he stepped into the streams of water, running his hands through his hair as he did so. The sweat came off easily and he felt like a new person. It was cool also to not have to fight off six other siblings to get to the shower. He could take as long as he wanted.

But, it was getting late and he knew he had to finish that homework Wood had insisted on waiving. So, after five minutes, he got out and grabbed his towel off one of the many hooks lining the wall. The soft, fluffiness of the white towel was inviting and he quickly dabbed off all the water covering him and wrapped it around his waist as he walked over to the mirror.

Looking at his reflection, he noticed that he looked different. Something had changed since the last time he'd looked at himself in this mirror. His eyes seemed more confident as he looked at himself. He looked healthier and the depressed look was no longer slashed across his face.

Once he was completely dry, he walked back over to his clothes. Quickly pulling on his robes, he was about to dash out of the Locker Room and up to Gryffindor Tower, but a sound stopped him.

It was just a quick sound, but he caught it none the less.

Turning on his heel slowly, he let the heavy door to the corridor swing shut as he listened. It sounded like a voice. But he couldn't make out the soft words. They sounded half formed...like someone was muttering in their sleep. It wasn't the sound of a student, though, Ron concluded as he made his way back into the middle of the tiled room. It sounded almost...

Snake-like.

That sent a shiver down his spine, hairs on his arms standing up beneath his robes. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He was safe down here...he knew it.

But then a new sound muffled the other one. A familiar sound Ron was able to recognize off the bat. It was sobbing. Nothing at all like the hissing voice he thought he had just heard.

Looking around, he searched for the owner of the sobs.

"Hello?" he started, hating the way his voice echoed. As if he needed it to be magnified when he didn't know whether his company was friend or foe.

The sobbing stopped for a moment, and then he heard the sound of someone wiping their nose loudly. Walking around a corner in the room leading to the lockers, Ron spotted someone huddled on one of the benches in the middle. The dark hair and spectacles revealed the identity of this person to him immediately.

"Harry?" he asked as he took a few steps towards his crying friend. Harry's shoulders shuddered as he turned to face Ron, looking almost embarrassed that Ron had found him crying.

"Ron – I – I didn't know anyone was down here!" he said, trying hard to wipe away the tears so that Ron couldn't see them. But, that was impossible. His cheeks were drenched with them.

"Harry," Ron started as he walked over towards Harry, taking a seat beside him. "What're you doing down here? It's late."

Harry shuddered and brushed his hair out of his face, revealing a red forehead where his scar was illuminated in white. It didn't look healthy.

"Harry!" he started, concerned. "What's going on? I thought you were having that checked!"

Harry took off his glasses so as to wipe his eyes better. "I was," he started. "But, it's just getting worse. The pain stopped for a while, but it's always coming back. Probably because I'm stressing myself out too much. I mean, if I hadn't overheard Hermione and Draco –"

"Hermione and Draco?" Ron started. "This is about Hermione and Draco?"

Harry nodded.

"But, how did you hear anything about them? They've been away from the Infirmary for...all day!"

Harry nodded. "You're right. But, I heard them out my window. Hermione's going to the dance with Draco. She dumped me for Draco..."

Ron sighed.

"Don't take it personal, Harry –"

"But – for Draco?"

Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "They've been liking each other for a while, mate."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "How do you know about this?"

Ron grinned. "I know a lot more than people think. While you guys were ignoring me, I was getting the scoop on what was going on with whom. I'm not completely helpless."

Harry nodded, brightening a bit.

"Well...it still hurt. A lot."

Ron nodded.

"I imagine it will. It does – more like it. But, you can't dwell over it. I mean, I'm not one who has experience, but you can't go around dwelling on stuff. I might not have had a relationship, but I've sure had brothers. And I've gone on dwelling about not being as good as them. It isn't fun, Harry and it makes nothing better."

Harry almost didn't want to believe it – he was feeling better letting out his feelings to the empty walls of the Locker Room. But, Ron was his friend again it seemed, and he took his advice, getting to his feet.

"Ron..." he started as they made their way towards the door. "What're you doing down here?"

Ron didn't want to tell Harry about the training because that might set Harry off again. So, he decided to not tell the truth, but not lie – however that worked.

"Oh," he started slowly. "I was doing some practice for Quidditch. The Finals tomorrow, you know."

Harry nodded. They were already going up the marble stairs towards the Fat Lady portrait.

"You going to be playing tomorrow?" Ron asked after a moment of deep silence.

Harry was taken off guard with this question. Ron didn't doubt Harry wouldn't miss the Finals for the world. That was all he had talked about for the entire season.

"Of course," he started. But he put a hand up to his scar once more.

"You sure?" Ron asked as they neared the Fat Lady.

"I'm more than sure." he replied. "With some sleep, I'll be fine in the morning."

"Does Madame Pomfrey know you left?"

Harry chuckled.

"She will when she finds I'm not there tonight."

They both laughed as they made their way up the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitories.

Before entering their room, Harry stopped and faced Ron.

"Ron, I want to thank you."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Thank me? For what?"

Harry shrugged. "For being there. For still being there even after I've been such a jerk."

Ron grinned. "What're friends for, mate?"

And with that, the two of them stepped into their room, feeling happier and more confident than either of them had felt all year long.