Harry Potter reflected wryly that this was not his day. Ron and Hermione had been going at it like cats and dogs for months, mind, so it wasn't like Harry was unused to shouting. And here he had thought it would get better when they started to date each other, instead of, like a pack of fools, dating other people. No such luck that. And this? This was worse.
He had come down to breakfast, finding Hermione in the library (no one had bothered looking at the book she had been reading, other than to notice it was smaller than usual for her). Harry had gotten within three feet before she calmly stuck a foot on his head. "Honestly, Harry! I'm not that oblivious." Neatly foiling his plans to sneak up on her, that's Hermione Granger everyone. Almost surprisingly, she had quietly headed off to breakfast with him. Gin Weasley was still trying to send him some sort of look - not that he'd ever been able to figure out exactly what she wanted. Maybe Hermione'd know, but asking her would imply he actually cared. Which he didn't, Harry hoped. It was probably nothing important, anyway.
Ron came sulking downstairs just as Harry had poured half the syrup on his pancakes. That was nothing new, of course. Ron was screaming or sulking or laughing, but very rarely just plain quiet. Quiet was Harry's job. Hermione didn't look up from her blueberry oats, simply said clearly and calmly, "Ron, can I talk to you for a minute? In the library?" Harry looked up at this, and in his confusion, had actually poured about half of the syrup - for everyone, all over his plate. It had run onto his lap, and the table as well. Ron had stood up quietly and gone with Hermione - probably expecting an apology for something that Hermione would insist she was perfectly reasonable about.
Five minutes later, the firework (that being Ron's ruddy head) exploded out of the library. "Engaged!? What the everliving bleedin' hell! Engaged!" Harry could tell that Ron was actually upset (as opposed to simply being snitty) because he descended into the Potions lab in the basement. Even Hermione would think twice before setting foot in there. Of course, the muffled cursing and occasional shatter of glassware would be dead giveaways, but still...
And Hermione? Well, she was locked up in her room, bawling her eyes out. Which was also unusual, as Hermione tended towards stamping feet and other indications of ... well, anger, and not hurt.
Harry had a disturbing thought - had Ron proposed? The mind boggled at the idea... Had Hermione? Somehow, that seemed even less likely. Although Harry Potter wanted to know just what in the bleedin' hell was going on, he didn't feel up to braving the emotional maestrom that the house had turned into. Instead, he sat up by the eaves, looking out a third-story window in the attic, trying to think about anything but his two best friends fighting. Reluctantly, he began to twirl his wand, casting spell after spell.
[a/n: Felt it was more effective as a Harry chapter. Hermione's not had the best time of this. (Draco,on the other hand... still hasn't told Pansy).
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