23

Rowing

Harry sensed that there might be another row if he didn't do something so he asked, "Why don't we go inside?" He was talking to just Ron and Hermione, who both shrugged.

The long-term trio stood up, announced their leave, and took off.

Harry made sure to stand in between his friends and started a discussion about what food might be served at the Christmas Eve Dinner.

Harry was shocked when even that small, meaningless subject made Ron and Hermione begin to argue.

"I bet they'll be serving pot roast," Ron said almost dreamily.

"I doubt it. They usually serve some sort of pork dish at Christmas," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Ron glanced at her. "My mum doesn't cook pork at Christmas," he said.

"But the poor, enslaved house-elves do," Hermione said, "I read it in Hogwarts, A History."

Ron rolled his eyes, quietly mocking her under his breath. "I read it in blah nah fa nah nah nah."

"What was that, Ronald? Did you say you read something? I was unaware that you even knew how to read," Hermione hissed, peering around Harry at Ron.

Harry looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Did you guys see how far I rolled when I tripped?" he asked, hoping that focusing attention on himself would keep his friends from fighting for at least a few minutes.

"Yeah!" Ron exclaimed, "That was wicked awesome!"

Hermione crossed her arms. "That was very dangerous, though I know you couldn't help it, but honestly, you should try to be more careful."

"By that," Ron said contemptuously, "she means put yourself in a spell-proof bubble and lock yourself in the highest tower of a dragon-guarded castle."

Hermione shook her head. "Just because you want to get killed or otherwise, doesn't mean Harry has to do things that might bind him to the same idiotic fate," she retorted.

Harry resisted the urge to hit something and took a deep breath. "What colour robes do you think Luna's going to wear?" he asked.

"Yellow," Ron said.

"Yellow?" Hermione questioned, "Blondes don't wear yellow. It's not in their colour-"

"Would you two stop arguing for just five minutes?" Harry asked, raising his voice nearly to a yell.

Hermione glanced at Harry in trepidation.

Ron glared at Hermione. 'See what you did, Hermione?' he thought, making the connection, 'You made Harry angry.'

'I made Harry angry? You were the one that had to "explain" what I meant by "You should try to be more careful.".'

Ron stifled a sardonic laugh. 'Who was the one that had to say that I couldn't read?'

'You were mocking me!'

Ron realised that this was true. 'Well, you just had to bring up spew!'

'I did no such thing! I mentioned the house-elves, but we were talking about ham!'

'Correction: You mentioned the poor, enslaved house-elves.'

Hermione glanced around Harry at Ron, glaring at him. 'At least I have an emotional depth that's deeper than that of a grain of sand.'

'Grains of sand don't have emotional depth!'

'And neither-do-you!' Hermione stated, emphasising each word in her mind.

'For your information, Miss Granger, I do have feelings about some things. I just prefer not to share those feelings with people like you, who obviously couldn't care less!'

Hermione made a noise of disparaging laughter. 'It's not like you care about my feelings, so why should I care at all about yours?'

Ron bit his lip, wishing that Hermione knew things that he knew she could never know. 'Don't try and pin your lack of compassion for others on me!'

'Don't try to make me feel guilty for not caring how you feel!'

'Don't-'

"Wow, you two are quiet," Harry said, sounding impressed.

"Well, you know," Ron said, "you did tell us to stop fighting for five minutes. I think it's been that long."

"Probably," Harry said. He spotted someone coming towards them in the distance. As they neared each other, Harry realised that it was Draco.

Draco stopped in front of them, and Ron tensed noticeably.

"Hermione, where have you been? I've been worried to the point of losing my hair!"

Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry guiltily. "I'll see you two later," she said, linked her arm with Draco's and hurried in the direction from which they had come.

Ron shook his head. "Shoved to the side by a retarded ferret," he muttered, "It's pitiful, Harry. Truly."

Harry nodded.