Harry Potter was looking through Hermione's Ancient Runes book when she woke. Or rather, that's what he instantly pretended to be doing. Hermione knew better, she had seen him stash the pen in his hair. "Harry James Potter," she said crossly, "Were you just doodling in my ancient runes book?"
Harry instantly looked crestfallen, and said, almost sullenly, "I...um... got a little bored."
"And you think that gives you the right to Doodle in my Books?" Hermione hollered.
"No." said Harry meeting her eyes calmly - using that tone of voice that never failed to get Ron into a snit, but could calm Hermione out of anything. "I'm your friend, after all. And it's just a book." Harry's green eyes were saying more than Hermione really wanted to read out of them - so of course she calmly noted down what he had to say, and then pushed it aside. Hermione Granger was more in the mood for scrapping than making up, anyway.
"That, Harry Potter, Is a Schoolbook. That means that I'll be reading out of it with a teacher looking over my shoulder. And I don't want doodles of snitches and brooms in my schoolbook!" Hermione said sternly.
Harry smiled a small smile, "I'd never do that, not to a Hermione Granger schoolbook. No, I was tracing some of the runes, seeing what they looked like in combination. I may not be in the class, but a books a book - and you were asleep and there really wasn't anything better to do." How did Harry always manage to be so awkwardly charming? Hermione thought crossly. Still, it was hard to be cross with him.
"Was there anything that you needed help with?" Hermione asked. Their conversation devolved into the distinctions between elder and younger futharks, and they had quite a spirited discussion of Beowulf (leave it to Harry to be interested in anything that involved fighting) going before it was time for lunch.
"What may I get you, good mistress?" Harry said, to Hermione's giggles at his shabby, rakish bow.
"A spot of stew, and some collard greens." Hermione said with one last giggle.
Harry spent the rest of the day acting as Hermione's shield, doing a good deal to restore Hermione's tattered belief in their friendship. Hermione had known, after all, that Harry prized his friends. But that's a far different thing from feeling it, in your heart.
Before the end of the night, Harry gathered Hermione's hands into his own, and said, "Hermione." in that serious tone he very rarely used.
Dreading what he was going to say, Hermione looked at him with wide brown eyes. "Yes?" she said primly.
"There's something you have to understand." Harry said gravely.
"What's that?" Hermione said, wishing she had the stalwart and phlegmatic disposition of a Malfoy or a Snape, to not feel the butterflies in her stomach.
"Ron was really, really worried about you. I haven't ever seen him that worried, and that counts when his sister was ... gone." Harry said, his green eyes luminous in the twilight of the dimly lit room.
Hermione's eyes hardened, and she said, "It doesn't matter, Harry."
"I know. I had to say so, anyway. You're both my friends, and you know how I hate it when..." Harry let the words trail off, and Hermione nodded.
"He shouldn't have said what he did."
"Too right."
"It's Ron. This isn't the first time he's said something completely, horrendously over the top." Harry said, his eyes pleading.
"It may well be the last, at least to me." Hermione said coldly.
Harry nodded, almost whispering a quiet, "We'll see."
[a/n: Harry is not having a fun week. Feel sorry for Harry, folks.
or just write me a review!]