Harry had been busy at the Ministry for the better part of the past week, following his visit (with Hermione and her Father) to Malfoy Manor. He'd spoken with Hermione through the floo a couple of times, the most recent of which was yesterday, the day after her visit to Paris with Malfoy. Apparently, the Daily Prophet had somehow discovered them together and gotten quite the intimate picture of the two of them in front of some fancy restaurant, with Hermione cupping Malfoy's face, and the blonde gazing down at her with a surprisingly soft expression.

The picture had conjured up several emotions for him simultaneously. The first of which had been jealousy, as it was clear from the moving photo, that Hermione was trying to work on her relationship with Malfoy, and it really shouldn't have come as a surprise...

...but it had.

His second reaction was shock, which looking back on it, should've been his initial response.

Third, was this incomprehensible fleeting feeling of exasperation, but only because he hated the press just as much as Hermione did.

The last emotion was harder to admit to—that of morbid curiosity, which in and of itself was odd, but the truth was that he...Harry Potter...was more interested in Malfoy's expression than that of his best friend. Dare he admit, that the poncey git looked almost human. Malfoy wasn't sneering, and even his trademark smirk was softer somehow.

Harry placed yesterday's paper down on his beside table, before rubbing both hands down his face in irritation.

He definitely didn't want to think about Malfoy in any kind of context, much less with any kind of awareness...but it was getting increasingly harder as time went by, not to notice that the ferret had actually changed quite a bit from the skinny, pointy and completely reprehensible prat he'd been back at Hogwarts—to a more mature and dare he admit—attractive bloke?

Hermione had always been beautiful, even in her awkward years during their second and third years at Hogwarts. After the densaugeo hex, that Malfoy had placed on Hermione fourth year, (and her teeth being fixed subsequently by Madam Pomfrey), Hermione had blossomed.

Then the Yule Ball with Krum had happened, and if he hadn't known it prior to that moment, it had become glaringly obvious that his best friend was truly quite pretty.

He wasn't the only one who noticed either.

Ron had made a spectacle of himself that night, in his jealousy.

But Malfoy hadn't been exactly oblivious either.

And the truth was, he had never been oblivious of Malfoy, but their antagonistic dynamic had always shrouded and subdued every other conflicting emotion quite strongly, to where it'd been far easier to hate the git, then acknowledge that he found the wizard attractive.

Standing up, he walked into his bathroom and went to take a shower, not hearing his floo going off downstairs.

It wasn't until he heard his name being yelled out, that he sighed in consternation.

"Harry!" Ron's voice carried down the hallway, "Are you decent?"

"I'll be out in a minute, mate."

Running his head under the warm spray, Harry sighed, as he knew exactly why Ron had shown up today and frankly, he didn't want to discuss Hermione's situation (nor his part in it), with his judgmental best mate.

Unfortunately, by the time he got done with his morning routine and downstairs in his basement kitchen, Ron was sitting down, glaring at that mornings edition of the Prophet...

"What's going on?" He asked, seeing Ron's expression darken noticeably.

Ron then tossed him the paper, and there on the front page was another picture of Hermione and Malfoy, but this time they were walking arm and arm down Diagon Alley.

"Can you believe this rubbish, Harry?"

Staring at the moving picture, he tried very hard not to allow any emotion to seep out onto his face, but he had to admit that Hermione and Malfoy smiling at each other was odd.

"Ron, what part of the fact that Hermione and Malfoy are betrothed, has escaped your brain? You know that this wasn't a matter of if, as a matter of when."

"And you're alright with it?"

Harry sat down, and placed his hand over the moving picture, and sighed, replying softly, "Don't get a vote, mate. Bloody hell, Hermione didn't get a vote either."

Ron scoffed, and Harry lifted up his gaze to see that Ron was staring out the small window in the corner with a pensive expression. He felt bad for his best friend, he really did. Ron had loved Hermione for years, but had never been good with communication, and even worse with being unselfish. As much as Hermione cared for Ron, everyone knew they weren't a good fit long term. Merlin, they'd end up killing each other before too long.

"Look, Ron—I know this isn't what you want to hear, but maybe this is a good thing, right?"

"How you figure?"

He averted his gaze, and then asked, "Why did you want to be with Hermione?"

Ron blanched, and when he turned to face Harry, it was clear that question had thrown his friend off.

"What kind of question is that, Harry?"

"A honest one," he admitted with a casual shrug, "you haven't actually been kind to Hermione over the years, mate. You knew she liked you sixth year, and you threw Lavender in her face and let's not get started about what happened out on the Horcrux hunt. You've never been good with handling your insecurities, Ron—and something tells me that if you don't get a firmer grasp on your temper, you're going to do or say something in your anger, that's going to sever your friendship with Hermione permanently. Is that what you want?"

Ron didn't reply right away, and Harry could tell he was processing his words carefully, before blue eyes locked with his and his best friend accused, "I'm not as thick as everyone thinks I am, Harry. I know you and Hermione have feelings for each other. How does it make you feel that you're going to have to take a back seat to Malfoy?"

Brow furrowing, Harry just stared morosely at his friend, and wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to hex him more than he wanted to punch him.

As good of a friend as Ron was, there were times that he literally irritated the fuck out of him.

This was definitely one of those times.

"Are we really going to have this discussion, mate?"

"Don't you think it's long overdue, mate?"

The last word came out with more than a tinge of sarcasm, but Harry wasn't going to rise the bait—he didn't have Voldemort in his head anymore, and as hotheaded as he'd been in the past due to having a horcrux attached to him, (and his Gryffindor nature), this wasn't the time to react first and face the consequences later.

"What do you want to know, Ron? It's clear that you came here itching for a fight, and frankly, as much as I'd like to hex you for being a git, I'm not in the mood to have this out with you."

"That's rich, Harry," Ron taunted, "we both know you have feelings for Mione. You may have tried to convince yourself in love with my sister, but we both knew that was never going to happen."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Harry shook his head and explained, "I cared for Ginny, Ron—but you're right, in that it wouldn't have worked out, but not for the reasons you seem to think. Ginny loves the idea of me, of Harry Potter—Chosen One—but we both know that it's never been about that for Hermione. What do you want me to say, hmmm? That I should've done the self-sacrificing thing yet again, and stepped aside so you could have the girl, even though we both know you never deserved her in the first place?"

"And you do?"

"Fuck no, mate—no one is deserving of Hermione, especially not Malfoy."

"Got that right." Ron mumbled and Harry nodded, because if there was one thing they could agree on, it was that.

"Exactly, but things unfortunately, are a bit more complicated, Ron."

"In what way?"

Shaking his head, he stood up to put some distance between Ron and himself, going over to the stove and gesturing to the tea pot. Ron sighed, nodded and waited while Harry grabbed everything from the nearest cupboard.

It was a few minutes before Harry spoke up again...

"I wish I could explain it to you, but I'm still trying to process a few things myself, mate. Once I talk with Hermione and figure out where things stand, I'm sure we can sit down and discuss it."

Ron sat back, while Harry levitated the tea cups, biscuits, milk and sugar over to the table. Once situated, Ron decided to ask, "Just how bad is it?"

"I'm not sure 'bad' is the term I'd use. Complicated, sure—even a bit mental—but I don't even claim to comprehend it all yet, and I know Hermione is still coming to terms with a few things."

"And you and her?" Green eyes bored into blue, and Ron could see the stark truth in Harry's eyes, "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

A deep pause and then, "Yes."

"Have you told her?"

"Not in so many words."

Taking a bite of his biscuit, Ron chewed it thoughtfully for a moment, before taking a sip of tea to wash it down. He had to admit, that Harry's confession wasn't exactly a surprise, and yes...it did make him angry, but deep down, he'd always known that Harry had feelings for Mione. It was a testament to their friendship, that he'd waited for as long as he'd had.

"Does she love you?"

"Dunno, mate—I know Hermione loves me, but is she in love with me?"

"And Malfoy?"

Harry sighed, and shook his head, replying, "I don't know how to feel about any of this, Ron."

Leaning forward, Harry could see Ron giving him a sharp look, almost as if he was calculating him like he would a piece on a chess board. It was several minutes before Ron said, "I'm not an idiot, Harry—despite what you and Mione might've chosen to believe over the years. I see things, I just don't ever comment, because no one ever really takes me seriously."

Harry went to say something, but Ron just put his hand up to stop his friend, before he continued on...

"I knew about Richie Coote, you know."

Harry's eyes widened, and a small blush settled over his cheeks, which caused Ron to smirk slightly, before he offered, "It's not a big deal, mate. Never changed how I felt about out friendship. I don't swing that way, but I'm not blind either."

"And?"

"If there's more to this thing with Mione and Malfoy, then maybe you need finally just be honest with yourself about what it is you really want for your life. You're not the savior of the Wizarding world anymore, Harry. You do get to have a life, you know?"

Harry chuckled, and smiled softly, before stating, "Maybe Hermione was wrong."

"Oh?"

"Yep, maybe you do have an emotional range a bit larger than a teaspoon."

Ron grinned and shook his head, quipping back, "Nah, I'm still a selfish git, always will be—but I'm not going to stand in your way, Harry. I owe you too much to let this ruin our friendship. Same goes for Mione."

"I think you need to tell her that yourself."

"I'll get around to it eventually."

"You do that."

Ron stood up and glanced down at the paper, sighing, "Let's go get some breakfast at the Leaky."

Clapping his hands on his thighs, Harry stood up and nodded, "Sounds like a plan, mate."