Author's Note... Sorry I haven't posted this until just now. I've had it written for a while. It's not very long though. There's been somethings that have happened, and I didn't want to continue at anything at the moment. I'm sorry. I'll write more, if anyone comments. I would like to see if anyone would read this before I go and write a million chapters with out come one reading.
Ron woke up silently, not wanting to wake up the other boys in his dorm. The thought of him being against Harry for Hermione was still on his mind, 'I shouldn't even think of it that way! Hermione would hate it.' As he dressed, he debated in his mind whether he should try for Hermione. 'Well, I know that Harry really likes her, at least now I do, but if I hadn't found out, I would be trying to get Hermione to go out with me, but I do know what he thinks. That changes the whole thing, I do know. . . .'
Ron walked out of the boys' dorm when he finished, not realizing what he had put on, having too much on his mind as he was dressing. He wore a bright red shirt with an unknown brand across it, and maroon-brown pants.
The window behind him was giving off the light of the quickly rising sun, the shine magnified by the glass, filling the room with the light.
He walked down to the common room couches, throwing himself across one; a he made sure that no one was on the couch first. He jumped onto the couch, and laid his head on a pillow, putting two fingers and a thumb on a side of his face. Lost in thought, ten minutes passed the by, the time now 7:40AM. The fire's blaze had gone down, the brilliant flashes of red and orange had gone down to a dim light fading from the crimson ashes and the pieces of burnt wood.
"Ron?" Asked a soothing voice from behind the couch, "Could I talk to you? - in private?"
"Of course, Hermione." Ron sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. He looked around the empty room. "But, I think this is already private."
Hermione looked around herself, and nodded, "Well, I decided, last night, that you should tell Harry. I-I mean, well, even though... Well, he... That's why I was standing outside the girls' dormitories last night, I was debating wether you should say or not, I mean, well, I guess he does have a right, I mean, to well... you know." Ron nodded, more in confusion of what Hermione just sad, than actually knowing what she meant. "Thanks for understanding, Ron." She leaned over the back of the couch and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She flashed a smile, and left before Ron could say anything more.
Ron sat, thinking of what Hermione just said. A thought came to mine, he shook his head, "Wait! Was I supposed to..." He looked for Hermione, but she had already gone. Even though she wasn't there, he finished his sentence, "tell him about... Oh never mind. If girls ever stayed to listen, I'd be quite surprised."
Ron watched as the staircases before him moved, waiting for the to be in the right order for him to get where he wanted. "Are you ever going to go?" Said a voice behind him. He instantly turned around to see a person; when he found no one behind him, he shrugged it off, almost starting down the stairwell. "Listen to me when I'm talking to you, boy!" Ron turned around once more, seeing only a couple pictures on the wall. "Yes, I'm a picture, and if you look, I am the only one glaring at you right now." A search of the wall, resulting in humiliation of peers walking past, whispering of how he was talking to a wall. A shake of his head started to send him off. "I said listen to me boy!"
Ron turned around once more, frustrated at the picture, "What do you want!"
"To help you! When I was your age, I was much more appreciative to my elders, you know."
"Then you must be pretty old for that to still be in use," Ron turned away once more, this time walking down the staircase, being followed by the yelling of the picture. He continued to the Great Hall, finding Harry to eat his breakfast.
"You know, I'm more valuable than you might think. I've seen everything, and everyone go up and down these stairs for the whole time I've been here," the man in the painting glared up at Ron, the frame being about a foot underneath Ron's head. "Well, since you don't want to listen, I'll give you advice. Take the stairs while they change, and memory's thought to rearrange."
"That doesn't even make any bloody sense!" Ron said, continuing down the stairs, then turning to reach the Great Hall.
Harry sat near the middle of the wooded table, only poking his food rather than eating it. Ron watched as Harry looked up to see him, and put on a fake smile.
Sitting down, Ron thought of what Hermione wanted him to tell Harry. 'That blasted painting, making me forget what it was I was supposed to say,' he thought to himself.
"H-how's Hermione?" Harry asked quite awkwardly, then turning to look down at the ham sitting on his plate.
"She's doing fine, saw her this morning, and-"
"I saw her this morning as well," Harry said, cutting off Ron. "Unfortunately, though. I hadn't meant to do that, I hadn't. The one time Hermione actually listens to me..."
"What did you do?" Ron said, not understanding. "She seemed to be fine when I saw her, and that was after she talked to you." Talking to Hermione briefly that morning made her seem like she was fine, though a bit on the despaired side.
