The Boy-who-lived leaned back in the private booth of the 'Three Broom Sticks', and not for the first time this day tried to hold back a foolish grin
The bickering drew Harry out of his pleasant revelry. And as the words flowed and did battle with one another across the table there was a hint of termination lingering in the atmosphere. Was today going to be the destined day? By Merlin's Beard he hoped so, for as amusing as it was to bare witness to this 'progression of passion', his nerves and sanity were slowly being worn down.
Bill was right. It had been weeks of agonizing silence and un-involvement on his part towards the two, but he could now feel the finality of the older Weasley brother's experiment burning it's closing minutes in the air before him. Hermione and Ron were both poised, on edge and fighting to maintain a forced and pleasant demeanor towards their on-going 'discussion' for his reserved sake alone. And this type of effort is not something easily maintained so there was no doubt in 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' mind that this tense charade of subdued feelings was quickly running it's coarse and about to be revealed to the light of day.
He was so certain of this stone cold reality that he would swear to any stranger in the Pub willing to take his bet that he would gladly eat his own wand if by the end of this very day that one of them hadn't slipped and confessed their love to the other. At the moment his money was on Ron as Hermione, as always, provided a cool detachment and Ron was in more speaking-before-thinking mode.
No doubt about it, Bill was a certified genius. Too often he, or someone else, interjected early into the arguments in order to play the grateful Peacemaker to the warring pair. Maybe if this strategy of 'distance' had been employed years earlier by either himself or Ginny then these quarreling two would have achieved coupledom a lot sooner then seven six years of repression.
After Ron had returned from his escort duties of the Delacour's and Gabrielle back home to their Château in France, Hermione had began offering him the cold-shoulder. After an agonizing week it progressed to snide comments, and now all it took was an Owl to arrive with a 'special' letter from Gabrielle to enflame an exchange of sarcasm from the young woman to the bewildered red-headed male.
If Harry hadn't seen the bushy haired Honor-Student a year earlier, doing the very same thing when Ron was dating Lavender, he never would have thought Hermione capable of such passive hostility. And poor Ron was as clueless as he was then towards the reasoning of why she was treating him this way. At first, Ron, just rolled his eyes and absorbed the bitterness, making his own comments to Harry in loud-whispered tones, which did not go unnoticed by the primary female antagonizer, that it must be 'Her-time-of-the-month.' But as this 'time' continued to stretch, it was obvious that Ron was finding it harder and harder to justify her behavior and not to engage in Hermione's verbalized challenges.
Harry had to silently confess to himself that he was impressed at how well; Ron had kept his temper in check towards Hermione's various needling. It seemed to the 'Wizarding-World-Savior' that Ron's acceptance to being Bill's 'Best Wizard' had had a profound effect on the youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. As it appeared, nearly over night, that he had grown several years' worth of tolerance and maturity. This new behavior and attitude of Ron's, however, only encouraged Hermione to believe Bill's earlier false words at the Reception that Ron was in the midst of finally 'growing-up' and was about to re-initiate his romantic liaison's with Lavender.
Harry had thought that the 'eruption of revelations' between the two was going to happen a week earlier when Gabrielle had sent Ron an Owl inviting him, and ONLY him, to Portkey to her Family Castle so that he could help celebrate her 16th Birthday with her. The owled-letter had made a special mention to Ron that both of her parents were to be visiting Germany at the time, and that she would enjoy his 'charming and stimulating company'. The contents of this message were revealed and spoken allowed to Harry, as Ron was unsure how he should reply to such a 'special' invite and sought out his advice. His suggestion to the befuddled red-head was to politely decline, stating that present events did not permit. He went even so far as to suggest to Ron that he deflect the blame for this upon his own shoulder's, thereby as to not to hurt or offend the soon to be 16-year old girl with embarrassment for being 'obvious' with her approach upon Ron for spending the evening with him.
But this tactful approach did nothing to smother Hermione's wrath towards Ron for 'encouraging' a child of Gabrielle's age. Ron's only retort to her harsh accusations was surprisingly well made given how awkward and frustrated he felt at the time. He claimed that he was not encouraging anyone, and that the bookworm was, herself, a hypocrite for suggesting such. As Gab's, as the young Veela enjoyed being called by close friends and family, was at least a year older then she (Hermione) when she had agreed to travel to Bulgaria to spend her Summer Vacation with 'Vicky' Krum. This noted fact in her personal history hastily silenced Hermione; and it was a sight Harry thought he'd never ever witness. Hermione Granger losing an argument to cold hard facts.
With the discovery of the Horcrux two-days earlier, all past ills between the warring pair were quickly forgotten as they all rode a wave of enthusiasm and success. The Trio all happily returned to Hogwarts to dispose of the Horcrux over Dumbledore's grave (as a tribute to the sacrifice of the wise wizard), and Harry felt as though they were all finally making progress in this insane War with Voldermort. Sadly however, this peace was only short in life, for as they just entered the township of Hogsmede to further their celebration and triumph. A very familiar Eagle Owl descended upon the red-head male with another letter from its Veela-Mistress. Since that moment to now, the situation between the duo returned to a strained and tense one.
"WHY CAN'T YOU LET THIS GO?? By Merlin's Beard, Hermione, for the last and damnable time - there is nothing going on between us!! I'm not encouraging her, I'm not leading her on, and I'm not sending her blasted coded messages that could be interpreted other ways. She said she had a bad dream, and in it I was in it being hurt. You read the damn note yourself! She just wants to make sure that I'm safe and well in order to set her mind at rest. It's all completely harmless."
A bitter and sarcastic laugh escaped from the mouth of the frazzled female sitting across the table. "It's not harmless, Ronald, every letter you respond to offer's her the belief that you like her."
"I do like her. What do you expect me to do? Not answer? To just leave her hanging for a reply?"
Another high-pitch 'Ha' was delivered. "Oh, such etiquette. You never had this problem over the various Summer Breaks when I ever wrote to you. I think it equaled out to four letters of mine to every one of yours. And even then it was all dribble. Barely a paragraph of nonsense, talking only about Quidditch, your Mother and Holiday Assignments."
Ron's ears became more scarlet at this provoked statement. "Writing to her is different to writing to you."
"Really? Why is that? What makes it easy for her and harder for me?" At this heavy question, Hermione folded her arms in front of her chest defiantly, knowing full well she had just cornered Ron with her query.
"It just is, that's all. Look, she's sweet, interesting and … and … "
" Oh, so I'm not sweet or interesting, Ronald? I am so sorry that your obligation to me is not one based on anything you feel particularly partial too admitting a fondness for."
"I didn't say that, blast you! It's different. She's …. Gabrielle, well … she's …. "
" Built like a Norwegian Super Model?"
"Norwegian? She's French, Hermione, not Norwegian. Have you gone mental or something?"
"Can you be truly this oblivious? She's a young woman just discovering herself and your, to her narrow perspective of things, a 'Man-of-the-World'."
"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, she's only sixteen!! Yeah, I guess she might be a little bit attractive "
Hermione glared and words stuttered out of her mouth to how absurd she found the male's claim. "S --s- she's – 'A little bit attractive'?! Oh spare me; you were nearly drowning in your own drool when you were dancing with her."
"She's a Veela, Hermione! That's what normal red-blooded blokes do when they stand opposite a Veela. They drool. It's a perfectly natural response in blokes. Besides, that was weeks ago."
"It was all of 12-days Hardly 'weeks', Ronald. Besides, Harry never behaves that disgracefully in front of them. So your argument is a mute one. isn't it?"
"Well, hip-hip-Bloody-hooray for Harry, then. Listen - she doesn't interest me, Hermione. And neither does Lavender seeing as I know where this 'disagreement' of ours is going to lead. This stupid subject has been raised for the tenth-time in ten days, and I'm sick to death defending myself." Ron then drew down forcibly his mug of Butterbeer so that it made a hollow thud on the table they were sitting at. Expressing a desperate attempt to dominate this discussion which he was easily losing to Hermione. "By Mordred's Fury, woman, I can't keep having this paranoid argument with you over my non-existent love life."
Even Harry, knew by this stage that things had just gone too far, Ron was suddenly channeling his father, and as expected Hermione was assuming the demeanor of Molly Weasley. "EXCUSE ME?? Did you just refer to me by my sex, and not my name?!"
"Yes, I did. Because for the umpteenth time, Hermione, I'm tired of all this. We were supposed to be celebrating, not insulting each other. And I'm dead tired of wasting my energy explaining myself to you. You! Of all people. Lavender and me are officially over, and Gab's is now officially family and to the best of my knowledge all she is trying to do is bridge the gaps between her wizarding clan and mine."
Hermione placed both her hands on her hips and scowled at the enraged red-head in her presence, refusing to back down now that her ire was well and truly up. "You cannot possibly be that naive, Ronald."
"Look … even if her interests in me are questionable, as you repeatedly claim they are, it doesn't change the fact that I'm not interested in her."
"What's the matter, then? She not pretty enough for the great Ronald Bilius Weasley?"
Ron sighed heavily and stared into his half empty mug doing his best to gain strength in the moment and not succumb to his inner emotions of being taunted with his middle name. "When, Hermione, did I ever give you the impression that looks matter more to me then the person themselves?"
Another bitter laugh escaped her lips that made both the Boy-who-lived and Ron wince under its implied application. "Oh, I don't know Ronald, maybe when you were looking for a date for the Yule Ball, and all of last year when you were parading Lavender around like the Quidditch House Trophy for all the School to see."
"Yeah? Well maybe I've learned my lesson from those experiences. Maybe … maybe … ahh, sod it." Ron lowered his head, and stared intently into the wood of the table. His very demeanor was now one of complete surrender, from the blunt tone of his voice to the heavy movement of his body. This change in presentation from fiery defiance caught Hermione off-guard and in this instant her features soften towards him showing in her formerly harsh eyes mercy against her male adversary.
"This is all pointless, isn't it? If what you say is true then what's the use? To you, 'Mione, I am nothing but a first-rate prat and that's all I'll ever be, isn't it? It doesn't matter that I read to you aloud all the letter's, Gab's, sends me. Or that I run whatever I've written to her through both you and Harry before I Owl it on. It doesn't matter that I'm trying to demonstrate to her a little sensitivity with her crush. And yes Hermione, I am not so naïve as you claim, that I can't recognize that she has a crush on me. But I swear I have done nothing to encourage it. But then again you already know that don't you? Because you practically help me write my responses to her. I'm not keeping any secrets, or concealing anything from you. Yet you still you cast me as some kind of perverted letch.
"I suppose it would be easy for me to do what you are asking me to, and that is to write her one of those 'Dear Jane' things. But you know what? I'll be damned if I'd come straight out and break her heart any faith in the concept of 'Love'. Telling her that I'm out of her league or that I have no feelings for her whatsoever. I have lived for too many years with that same thought and y'know what, 'Mione? It's a hideous feeling to have gnarling inside of you and I will not subject, Gabrielle, to this same horrid realization I had. I may have the emotional depths of a teaspoon, Hermione, but I'm not Draco Malfoy. Given time and plenty of avoidance she'll eventually come to her good senses and realize what you obviously have. And that is that I am a Lost Cause, a louse and not worthy of knowing beyond their name."
Ron pinched the bridge of his nose as he continued to stare straight into the table in front of him, refusing to raise his eyes or offer a pause sufficient enough to be interrupted.
"But you want to know something, Hermione? Something deep, dark and pretty bloody pathetic on my part? I happened to have actually liked the attention she was giving me. I'm not like you, or Harry, I don't have World-Famous Bulgarian Quidditch Player's wanting to suck face with me. I don't get Owls from strange women asking if I would marry their niece, daughter, or granddaughters like the ones Harry does. I'm just me. A nobody. A sad and dim bloke without any grand destiny, fascinating history, brains, looks or a ton of gold in a Gringott Vault that I know anything about. I come from a family so poor that the clothes that I am presently wearing and the shoes on my feet have been worn four-times over by other brother's. And that's all I have to my name, 'Mione. That and the understanding that I happen to be mates with Harry Potter and a girl known at Hogworts as the Smartest Witch of her Age. This is my one and only positive claim in life. This is how people think of me when they hear 'Ron Weasley'. They say 'Oh yes, he's Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's token-friend.' And you know what? I'm comfortable with this honor, because I can't think of anyone else's friendship I'd want more then you pair. But it's not easy, and sometimes, like now, that even gets tested more times then I like.
"Believe it or not, Hermione, I happened to have enjoyed the thought that there was someone out there delusional enough to think I was worth knowing, romantically or otherwise. It's nice and yes, it was kinda flattering and it sure as hell beats the alternative. And even though being with her was a slow death for me I DID actually like at times the fact that Lavender wanted to be my 'Girl'. I liked that there was someone who wanted to be on my arm when I walked into the Main Hall for a meal. That there was someone who sat in the stands during our Quidditch Training Sessions who was there to support me, and only me. I liked the fact she used to bribe me for carrying her books to class in exchange for a little kiss on the cheek. Does that make me a vain guy. Hermione? Because if it does, then I don't care. I guess I'm vain then. But where is it written that only girls like to be appreciated and cared about?
"And before you open your gob to make another sarcastic comment on all that 'past' stuff, I want you to know that I've tried to learn from my previous 'romantic' misadventures. And I've tried to grow and tried to evolve. But still, whatever I try to do doesn't quite measure up good enough for you, does it? You'll always see me as someone that I was and not as someone I'm trying hard to become."
Ron then raised his head's angle and slowly turned it in the direction of Hermione forgoing the intense stare he was placing on the table and reaffirming it anew to the girl of his scorn. "I will not say this again, Hermione, I am not interested in either Lavender or Gabrielle except only as friends. People change, opinions change and time changes all things. You'll see, just as I have, that experiences make the person and that you cannot pigeon hole them forever because of past attitudes. But 'ell, I've been wrong before and maybe I'm wrong about this as well. Maybe I am all those things you say I am, maybe I cannot change who I am no matter how hard I try. But I am trying, and that should count for something. But obviously not for you. In your eyes I'm always going to be the same ole git, so what's the point in trying to better myself then? Because your smatter then I'll ever be, you know the score better then me as well. If there was a girl I felt something towards she'd see through me, like you do, like sheen of glass. And any declaration I would make to her would probably be just a damn wasted effort, wouldn't it? Cause I'm sure before I open my trap on the subject that she'd already have made her own mind up about me … just like you obviously have. And I would much rather avoid looking like a first class ass in her eyes, at least not any more or less of an ass that I am probably already to her."
Ron Weasley then raised his mug and in one fluid motion drained it of it's contents of Butter Beer. "I'm now off to the Bar to get another drink and … and to maybe calm down a bit. You want any, Harry?"
Harry Potter sat stunned but shock his head in the negative. There was not the raising of a voice, or the flushing of his best friends face as he spoke them that would have been expected after years of knowing him. The words that exited Ron's mouth were ones of impact and had been spoken to fullest effect without losing himself in emotion. So captured by Ron's contained and respectful rant and his steady presence as he walked away from the Booth that he did not notice the effects of these spoken sentences were having on the one it was directed too. It was only as Ron joined a crowd of awaiting patrons that the 'Boy-who-Lived' eyes moved towards the young female. And what he viewed was the polar opposite to the restrained rage the young woman had been displaying 50-secondes earlier.
Ron's sullen declaration caused Hermione's shoulders to sag and the voice that she spoke with now was devoid of any edge in tone that had earlier existed. It was soft and weak, almost … pathetic. And it was because of this soft weakness that her words failed to stir the attention of Ron as he had strode towards the bustle of the bar out of reasonable earshot. "I'm …. I just … I just …"
When the red-head male did not react to her faint plea her eyes began to water with glassy transparency. Awkwardly she turned to her male friend with worry and desperation etched upon her face. "I don't think that, Harry. I-- I don't think he's a lost cause, a louse, or a first rate prat. Well, maybe a prat at times, but not a first-rate one. I don't -- I just don't. He doesn't really think that I think that, does he, Harry? Because I … I just … I just don't." The stalled tears now began to flow as a sound of soft sobs could be now heard.
Harry shifted himself around the table and sat where his best male friend had recently vacated, stretching his hand out to grasp the now shaking one of the girl who was like a sister to him. Drawing her cold and clammy hand closer to his body as she released her sadden emotions into the sleeve of her free arm.
"I know that, Hermione. I feel the same. I could never think less of Ron. He's my best mate. I know that there are whispers around Hogwarts, and I know that people only really know him by his association to me and you, and not on his merits. But you know what 'Mione? That's their loss and I'm just glad that it's not ours."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger's pride and joy spoke muffled words that Harry's ears could barely detect and identify. "He's right though isn't he? I have been checking his letters, just like he said I have, and he hasn't written anything to that … that Lolita want-to-be which would offer her any thought that he's interested in her in the same way she's obviously interested in him. He's been both appropriate and considerate of her feelings, and he's absolutely right - all I've been is awful and horrid to him about it. I've been short-tempered and impatient. And he's just accepted it all. The only time he's ever gotten riled at me these past weeks is when I verbally attack her. Her or Lavender. And I can't help that, Harry. I just don't want him to make another dreadful mistake like he did last year with Lav-Lav. I'm only looking out for him, can't he see that?"
Harry tilted his head and sympathetically peered down on the crop of bushy brown hair as fresh sobs were heard, smiling inward to the name 'Lolita' and wondering what it was in reference too. If only her or Ron could hear their own insult's at times and viewed them as jealousy and not bitterness, then this entire elaborate plan of Bill's would not have been needed.
"Yeah, well you can't really blame him, can you? Ron has that whole Knight-Complex thing going, doesn't he? Always has, ever since that Chess Board in First-Year. And in his eyes they're a pair of Damsel's in distress with a desperate need of someone to defend their honor from a certain Know-It-All Dragon." Harry gently squeezed Hermione's fingers to get her alert to what he was saying and to have her pay attention to what he was about to say next. "I mean it wouldn't be the first time he's gotten all defensive and protective towards a girl who's very special to him, would it? But from memory I don't think he's ever willingly done a single detention for Lavender by arguing with Snape in the middle of a full classroom, or suffered the unenviable pleasure of barfing up slugs all afternoon for Gabrielle, now has he?"
As Harry predicted, the tiny and methodical rocking motion of Hermione stilled. And when her eyes returned to the warm lumination of the table-scape they were red, yet at the same time suddenly full of expectation and a desperate hope. "Harry? Wh -- what are you implying?"
A smirk fell on the face of the young man as he looked at the young woman. "I'm not saying or implying anything, Hermione. And neither is Ron. Or you, for that matter. And I think that's the problem here, isn't it? Nobody is saying or implying a blasted thing."
With care the Bookworm pulled her stray hand from Harry's grasp and swallowed. She then quickly caste her eyes towards where Madam Rosmertta was serving drinks and took note that Ron was still a few moments from being attended too. "Harry, I don't understand what you are saying."
"Yes you do."
"No, I -- I can't. He -- he doesn't. He hates me, Harry. You heard him."
"Yeah, Hermione, I did. I've been hearing him for the last two-weeks, but have you? Because if you had I don't think you would have heard the term 'Hate' ever exit his mouth. I did however hear him say that he values your friendship on par with my own, which now on reflection has me a little peeved."
Panicky, Hermione's voice began to tremble with what her friend was trying to 'not' say to her but was making it quite clear to what he was meaning. "But what about this other girl he's interested in? The one that isn't Lavender or Gabrielle? Bill said "
"Bill was just getting a rise out of you; he is a Weasley after all. And he'd probably kill me for saying this and ruining his 'Master Plan', but the girl Ron was crowing about at the Bride-Groom Table wasn't Lavender Brown. And I think by now after the past two-weeks of putting yourself through the emotional ringer that you know who it is you truly want it to be, don't you?"
Hermione Granger's eyes grew wider with Harry's careful question. "But Harry, what does it matter what I feel, if he doesn't feel the same way about me any longer? I've just ruined everything."
The Boy-who-Lived passive and sympathetic expression spread to an open smile. It was almost amusing and very typical of Hermione to try and talk herself out of a belief that could not be supported with written cold facts. This was the moment he was looking forward too, and even though he couldn't help himself to come to the tentative couples rescue, he knew Bill probably would not hold any grievance for disrupting his experiment. He had held his tongue and endured the waiting for these past 12-days for just this valuable instant. And once this entire Hunt was over; and Voldermort was defeated, Harry, was going to nominate Bill for the 'First Order of -- well … of Cupid', or some other related nonsense. Hermione had finally kicked herself into gear and was ready to 'fight' for Ron. Even if this meant fighting a mystery woman who had happened to be herself.
Wiping her tear streaks away, Hermione responded to the male's grin with a humiliated tone. "What's so funny?"
"You! Hermione, trust me; there is no other girl for Ron. At least not as far as he's concerned. And there never has been for as long as I can remember. These past couple of weeks he's been letting his actions speak for him, Hermione. But every time he tries to do something different and thoughtful, the person he's trying to impress just bares down on him.
"Haven't you noticed that when he makes the dinner, you always end up with a little bit more on your plate then him and me? That he sets up your sleeping bag next to his? That he always wakes up a little bit earlier to relieve you of guard-duty so you can get that extra bit of sleep? Just because that prat has difficulty saying how he feels it doesn't mean he's not doing his all to show it to you."
"B--but he said he gives me that extra bit of food and sleep because I'm a girl and -- and that he sleeps next to me for -- for my protection if I needed it if Death Eater's broke our defense and found us unawares."
"And you believe him?! C'mon, Hermione, surely your not that daft?"
Hermione startled reaction to these words and question were to stare once more into her lap. All awhile her face began becoming a motioning mask of emotions and happy revelations. When her head eventually returned to level, it was brighter and full of optimism. "Me? You mean it, don't you Harry? You're not lying? I'm his -- he has a crush on me? I'm really the one Bill said he wanted to 'repair bridges with' at the Wedding? ME!!"
Harry laughed again at her reaction. "I think what he has goes far beyond a 'crush', Hermione. But your right about what you said earlier - It doesn't matter what he feels if you don't feel the same way he does, now does it?"
The young woman shock her head slowly, almost disapprovingly. "But -- but why? All I do is get on his nerves, point out his errors and boorish behavior and … and he always tells me what a pain I am or how bossy I can be"
Harry quickly interjected before the list got to long to counter. " And despite all of that he still worries about you, Hermione, and willingly spends time with you regardless to how MUCH you get on his nerves, doesn't he?" The 17-year old once more grasped Hermione's hand in his own, refusing to let her to pull away from him again. "I knew, Hermione, I just knew. Despite the obstacles that have existed because of my fate, that you two would have found each other eventually.
"He cares about you, Hermione. In second year when you got yourself petrified, Ron, visited you with me everyday. He would stare at you with pure intensity, as though his Will alone would be enough to revive you. I felt dead guilty about that, because unlike me, Ron wears his Heart on his Sleeve, and I don't. When he's in pain, or he hurts it's there for the whole world to see. Anybody who walked into the Infirmary back then could easily have seen how much you meant to him, Hermione. Just like when he got poisoned last year, everybody could see that same intensity and concern on your face as well."
The Bookworm shock her head once more, again putting up barriers and excuses in a sad effort to conceal what was evident. "He's my best-friend; of coarse I would worry about him. As much as I want to believe you Harry, what your saying is only "
"He said 'Err-my-knee'. He was thrashing with nightmares, Hermione, and the only thing he called out was those three-unusual words. By themselves, nothing much, linked together though and they sound like --."
"STOP, Harry, please. Don't tease me with this kind of -- of hope. He doesn't --he can't. I'm just a -- a "
"What? What are you? Your beautiful, bright, caring, supportive, loyal, clever and sweet. Bring up Krum, Hermione, with Ron in earshot and you will see the same flash of jealousy that you have when the topic of Gabrielle or Lavender is raised. And whilst we are on the subject of jealousy – make any magical attacking canaries lately? Throw any Befuddlement Hexes at any Keeper's?"
"Cormac was an Arrogant-Ass and I didn't want him to take such a valuable slot from the Gryffindor Team, you know that Harry. Nobody at that Try-Out, aside from Ron, was more committed to you or our House, Harry. And nobody loves Quidditch more then Ron, if he lost out to that pillok it would have been a loss to everyone. You, Ron and Gryffindor. Ron deserved that position."
"Arrogant-Ass? Weren't you the one who asked that arrogant-ass to be your date to Slughorn's Christmas-do?"
"That was because I -- I --"
Releasing the wrist he had kept hold of tightly, Harry Potter smiled again. "because you wanted to hurt Ron for going out with Lavender. You wanted to send him a message and make him jealous."
Frightened, Hermione turned her head away in shame. "No -- I -- Merlin. I wasn't that transparent, was I?"
Harry laughed a gentle laugh, and nodded. "The question still remains though, Hermione. Do you care for him as much as he does you?"
There came an unbearable silence that seemed to stretch beyond seconds to hours. When words eventually escaped the female's lips they were soft, and doubtful. But they were spoken just the same, and in these words strength and conviction was earned to what was denied for several long years. "I do. At least I think I do."
"Good."
Small hands suddenly sailed over Hermione's mouth with a gasp of realization. "But, Harry, Ron just said that he wasn't interested in 'that girl' anymore. I did that. I just threw away all his interest in me."
Harry Potter exhaled another sigh. This was becoming like an episode of the muggle show 'Dawson's Creek' (One of Dudley's favorite programs, primarily because he had an unhealthy interest in the Katie Holmes character). And he was feeling very much like Dawson to Hermione's – Joey and Ron's – err … Pacey. "He'll calm down, and by this time tomorrow, or the next, he would have forgotten his little blow-up. You know how Ron is."
"No, I have to fix this. I have to make it right, Harry. Not tomorrow, I need to repair this now! I don't think I could wait another 24-hours."
Shifting his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, Harry, looked intently at Hermione. "Then you got to say something. And I'm not talking apologies for how you've treated him. I mean you have to tell him square. The only reason I even decided to step in and help force the issue with you is because of how you were reacting to what Ron just told you. The hardest thing for me these past weeks have been to hold my tongue."
"Then what do I say?"
"Well, imagine everything you've ever dreamed Ron saying to you and just reverse it. He'll be so stunned that he won't have a chance to argue the point with you. And then you can take it all from there."
Hermione Jane Granger, closed her eyes and let lose her imagination trying to form the right sentences. When she opened them again they were focused with determination and she turned herself to face her partner in this deed. She then fluttered her eyes closed again trying to picture the red-headed male in Harry's place and began to rehearse what she was going to say.
"You exasperate, infuriate and torment me. Every day that I have known you I have also known a little too a lot of misery. But I would have it no other way, because despite the sorrows that come from being in your company on some days, there is joy that come with these precious experiences also. You make me laugh when I feel sad and you lift my spirits when I feel low. You protect me, even when I feel I don't need protection. Your shoulders are broad and comfortable and I always feel safe when you offer them to me to lean on. You have suffered, and I have suffered beside you. You are more then just a 'Best-Friend'. I know that you have had relationships with girls far prettier and more popular then me. But they say that the heart wants what the heart wants and I believe this with every fiber of my soul, so when this whole business with, Tom Riddle, is concluded, would you consider going out with me? Even if it was just once, just to see if you enjoy it. Just you and me alone where we might both wonder the question if this is as 'Right' as I pray it would be.
"I suppose I could probably say to you that I love you, but I think you already know that by now. You don't have to agree that you feel the same, because I know that your shy about that kind of thing. But I happen to know now that you have strong feelings for me and I think that if we both denied what we both feel, and have felt for each other all this time then I think that the only victims would be us. So lets give US a chance, especially as it is US that we both want so badly to be. Well? What do you think?" Hermione opened her eyes to the smiling face of Harry, but suddenly her vision was drawn to the figure standing directly behind him. The figure of a young-red-haired-man with a mug in his hand who looked as though he just had his heart ripped from his chest.
Harry slowly turned his head to see what had Hermione looking so fretful all of a sudden. What he saw was the face of a betrayed man. Someone who was supporting the visage of a person who had just walked in on their own parents having sex and wished to hex his eyes shut to spare him from ever doing so again. Instinctively the Savior of the Wizarding World shot out of the booth and stood rigidly in front of his best friend totally aware of what this misleading spectacle could have certain people believe. "Ron, this isn't what it looks like. I know what it might look like, but it just isn't, okay."
Hermione found her voice in her terror and asked the question that was burning in Harry's own mind. "How … how long have you been standing there?"
The youngest Weasley male looked lost for a moment, and when he answered his voice seemed as haunted as his expression was. "From the part where you told Harry how much joy he brings you. I'll, umm, I guess I should … give you two some privacy."
"RON, wait!"
"For what, Hermione? So that you an' Harry can say 'Twos company and three's a crowd'? Thanks, but no thanks. I may be a daft git at the best of times, but I'm bright enough to know when I'm not wanted."
There was no mistaking the mixture of hurt and bitterness carried in his soft tone and words. So much so that the Boy-who-lived felt a deep pain of guilt at his involvement in causing it to his best friend.
Desperately the female tried to appease and recover from this terrible error inflicted upon her true subject of affections. "No, you've got it all wrong!"
"So you don't love Harry, then?"
"Of course I love Harry, but I also … I also lo … care about you as well. Only in a different way to him."
"Care, huh? Don't go doing me any favors, 'Mione."
"I'm not. I mean … look, maybe I'm not explaining myself correctly. What I mean is "
"No. I don't want to hear your explanations, or high brow justifications. You don't have to explain yourself to me, not that you ever have." Ron raked his fingers through his fiery-hair and it became apparent that he was slowly, but surely, losing his composure. "Afterall, when the topic of feelings and emotions are tabled, Hermione, lets face it, Harry is usually your first and only point of call. So why should I be even flippin' surprised that you'd want to date him? He's got depth and I'm just a bleeding teaspoon aren't I?"
As each word left his mouth, Ron's tone became edgy and raised, losing the surrender and softness it possessed seconds earlier due to his stunned discovery. But now all his emotion was starting to take over and it was like an ocean churning on a moonless night, you could feel and hear the torrent but you were blind to the magnitude of its power. "It's kind of funny, in a sick type of way. For day's you've been riding me ragged about my inappropriateness to encouraging Gab's feelings. And in this entire time you've been lusting after Harry all the while. Just as you were lecturing me on conduct an' sending wrong and misleading messages you've been wanting some 'alone-time' with him?!
"Tell me; Hermione, what's was more important to you? Why did you really join this Quest of Harry's? Did you maybe see this as an opportunity for a bit of 'Hows-your-father' with the 'Boy-who-you-wanna-snog'? Or was it, like me, to defeat that Egomaniacal Bastard Voldermort? Which one was it?"
If no-one in the Pub was paying attention to the little squabble before, they certainly were now. The mention of Voldermort's name aloud, spoken with such venom and hatred, caused a sharp gasp from the fearful and surprised expression's upon the faces of the more harder to impress clientele. Yet Ron's question to the female hanged open and vulnerable for seconds, surrounding itself in sudden silence of the Pub and leaving an affront upon the young woman's sensibilities. "How dare you!"
"I DARE, because I have nothing to lose. And when you have nothing left to lose, Hermione, you can dare all the bloody hell you want! My entire family is labeled Blood-Traitor's, 'mione. Do you have any real conception of what that term means? Do you?? Have either of you ever wondered exactly what penalties such a branding carries with Death Eaters?
"You and Harry weren't around in the last war, but unlike you pair I've lived with the aftermath of it. I heard the stories. I know what got done to the families of Blood Traitor's during Voldermort's last gamble for power, Hermione. In the eyes of his twisted mob to have been titled a Blood-Traitor is an even worse crime then being a Muggle-Born magic wielder. If Voldermort, Merlin's Ghost forbid, ever rises to power one day, all you lot have too fear is a quick death. For me, my mum, dad, Ginny, Bill, Fleur … Merlin, everybody who is even remotely linked to my family, my Traitorous Family, Hermione, by blood or by marriage will suffer a far worse fate at that mobs hands then you can ever know. So yes, Hermione, I-DARE!!"
After these angered words, Ron's line of sight shifted over Hermione's shoulder to the green-eyed male youth standing closely behind her. And though his words were still spoken to the female, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that they were actually being delivered to him. And for the first time in weeks, Harry, understood why the Delacour's were so hesitant in linking their name to that of the Weasley's and why the Weasley's were so grateful for this united gesture. "I have nothing I can call mine. Not respect. Not wealth. Not even the privilege of being from a bloody 'Pure-Blood' Family anymore. If I was to even perish tomorrow, who would mourn me besides my family and a few so-called-friends? What difference have I ever made aside from being labeled the designated Comedy-Relief in Harry Potter's Epic Story? Everything I have ever wanted has always been denied me. EVERYTHING! Even … even people. So what's one more line to that already bloody long list of mine? So yeah, Hermione, I DARE, because daring is the only thing I can do right at the moment, and daring is the only choice left that is truly mine to do!"
A pin could be heard dropping, not that anyone within the 'Three Broomsticks' would have dropped a pin. Locals, Hogwort Student's, all now a captured audience to this living drama. Some cast an expectant eye towards the bushy-haired female waiting from her a rebuff of some kind. They were left disappointed of a contributing dialogue. Her lips quivered and a translucent fluid began to cascade from her nostrils. On shaky legs she staggered into the chest of the young man who had just called her a hypocrite and then wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her face was buried so deep into Ron's chest it looked as though she might even cut her cheek on the edges of his buttons.
With shear force of will, Ron untangled her grasp of him and then forcibly, but carefully, pushed her off of him. "Careful there, you might make Harry jealous. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"
With dejection consuming her all, Hermione, now looked to Harry to offer her rescue for this misunderstanding. If Harry Potter knew what to do, then it certainly didn't show upon his face. A panic equal to Hermione's was now taking claim of him, he had only been on the 'outs' with Ron just once in his life and that was years earlier during the Tri-Wizard's Tournament. He doubted he could have dealt with something like that again, especially during the Hunt for Voldermort's Horcrux's. He needed Ron's friendship and he needed his trust. In a world where he could not afford to trust anyone, Hermione and Ron, were always an absolute cert. He knew with every fiber of his soul that he could depend on both of them with his life as well as seeing the Hunt through to the very end.
His voice was a nervous one, almost guilty as it cracked the air between the two young men. Doing his best to lay claim to a tense situation and offer some measure of control, Harry stepped forward and to command. "Ron, look lets stop acting like a prat. People are staring. Let's sit down and talk this through, yeah? You've made a bit of a mistake, that's all; it's not what you think. Hermione and I can clear this all up if you give us a chance and when we do, trust me you'll be all red-faced over all the nonsense you just spoke." Harry then extended his embarrassed hand out to help maneuver Ron back to the Booth they had all been sitting at minutes before. But with his gesture the unthinkable happened.
Later he would tell people that he never-saw-it-coming, but the truth is that Ron had telegraphed his intended blow well. Harry knew that Ron was about to hit him, where he was going to hit him and nearly just how hard he was going to be hit by him. But the reality to this future-lie of his was that even with all this data entering his perceptions a split second before, Harry, with his entire Seeker skills and years of practice, still had to confess that he wasn't anywhere near fast enough to have dodged Ron's punch.
A heated-numbness quickly conquered the left side of his jaw as he staggered three-feet back before he dizzyingly descended to the floor. An instant was all it took for Hermione to be at his side. Against it all she rushed and knelled down beside fallen boy to awkwardly inspect for any serious injuries aside from that of his pride and friendship of his Best Mate. In a darker place of his mind Harry had kind of wished that she hadn't done this 'Angel-of-Mercy' dash to him. The last thing Ron needed to see was her tears and her distress and interpret them as being caused by his assault upon her new 'Love Interest'. Not that Ron would have registered this display as such, he was too busy shouting.
"Nonsense? Me and my families circumstance is now nonsense to you, Harry? Them who took you in and loved you like their own? Don't you fucken' touch me! Don't ever touch me, grab me or talk down to me like I'm an idiot, or your personal fool. Because I'm neither. You might always have people looking at you for bleedin' answers, but do you ever have a fucken' solution? And you think I'm a prat? That I'm an embarrassment? Do you really think I give a blasted Knut if these people are looking at me right now? Do you? Because at the moment I don't give Rosemary's Curse whose looking at me or what they're thinking."
As much as Harry wanted to remove himself from the floor, he felt that to do so would be seen as a provocation for Ron to take another swing at him. Which was something several onlooker's, who had probably not seen a decent brawl in a long time, were all hoping for.
Chanting, and other encouragements, echoed the room for the Weasley's baby-boy to fulfill the emotion of his words and to turn Harry Potter into bloody pulp. Yet strangely, instead of finding himself lost in this vigor of the small and loud crowd, Ron's supporter's only helped create the opposite effects of their desires. Their hostile cacophony only drew him back from the edge of his rage, and with something akin to a 12th Labor of Hercules, Ron, reached out his hand and pulled the 'Savior' from the floor and back to his feet in one ungentle and jerky motion.
This gesture appeared to be an amicable one to all who observed, but the pain of Ron's grip on Harry's hand only denoted to the 'Wizarding and Witch Hero' that a war was still being waged within Ron's soul. A fight between both his good and evil sides for dominance. And at present, Ron's Angel, appeared to have won out. But Harry wasn't naive or game to speak hastily and thereby give the devil within the red-head any additional ammunition to emerge victorious. Ron had to speak first, and from his words Harry thought that maybe he could possibly invade the red-heads perceptions and convince him that he was in error over this entire matter. Unfortunately though, Hermione did not support the same common sense, or experience, that he did in addressing a frustrated Ronald Weasley. Instead she did as she always did whenever she viewed what she viewed as bullying. She provoked it further.
"Is that how you deal with things you don't like, Ronald? Instead of talking it through like an adult your first course is to thump it into submission instead? Is that how you solve your problems? Is this the peak-level of your intellect? That of a common thug?"
"So I'm a thug now, am I?"
"If the shoe fits, then yes. For only a thug, Ron, would ever disgracefully attack a friend without any due cause or justification."
"And what if they did feel justified, Hermione? What then?"
With a growing treble in her voice, Hermione arched herself up from the floor she had been knelling upon and took on a challenging form, standing chest to chest with the red-haired male. "Then friendship must always win out, Ron. Because sometimes you have to trust and have faith in your friends. Even if you're baser instinct tells you not too."
"Oh, so I'm Basic AND a Thug?"
"That's not what I meant, or said, and you know it. But if you are so intent as casting yourself as some underprivileged mental-flop then far be it for me to dispel your self-delusion. After all, you do have that credibility. You are always lagging in your classes and always seeking assistance on the simplest of Assignments. And even with this additional aid you are only able to accomplish passing grades at most, so maybe you are correct. Maybe you are a mental-deficient.
"It makes sense, afterall, instead of applying yourself to an education that will offer you the security of a future. You always prefer, in its place, to skive off to play chess and chat about Quidditch. My, with such short-sighted aspirations it's no-wonder you failed your Apparition's License on the first try when all of your other brother's were successful with their Test the first time out. But then again something that requires a certain amount of refinement and discipline on the party of the user is obviously a trait beyond someone the likes of you."
"I got it eventually; besides, I wasn't the only one to fail on their first time, y'know. Just ask your Boyfriend there."
"You know, just as I do, that Harry does not have the benefit of being like you. Because unlike you, Ronald, he has more responsibilities and more pressures placed upon him. So of course with all that he goes through on a daily basis he'd have a little more difficulty with focusing his mind on such a mundane and simple test of concentration."
Harry didn't know what he hated more, the fact that Hermione didn't deny Ron's unsubtle 'Boyfriend' remark or that she had just insulted Ron with the same breath as she was elevating him to a demi-god status. If his jaw wasn't hurting like Dragon-Fire, and he could have offered more then just a sour-sounding groan, then he would have gleefully told his best female friend to SHUT-UP and to stop making things worse for everyone, especially HIM.
Ron dug both his hands in his pockets and glared. Hermione's chin angled upwards defiantly, awaiting another effort on his part to continue the argument that had well and truly taken a turn for the worse. It was hard for Harry to meet Ron's eyes, there was such a potent swelling of emotion within the blue that he feared what would happen if he became too lost in the mix of hurt and anger that lay resided within.
Whether it was Hermione's determination not to be swayed or his own not to add to the company of verbal errors that had turned a pleasant opportunity into a hateful one, Ron's demeanor shifted. With a gruff, yet soft utterance Ron turned his back on the pair and appeared to surrender to her challenge. "Fine, you both want each other? Then I won't stand in your way. It's not like what I care about matters with you anyway. And with what Harry will have to go through for us to even have a chance to win this blasted thing, well then who am I to not let the Hero have his spoils? So if either of you can only get through this nightmare with the other then … fine. Just don't do it while I'm around, that's … that's all I ask."
It was one of those rare moments when a person can clearly see the measure of the other. And in this moment there was no doubt that through all of the emotion being played out on Ron's features and through his voice, there existed a true love for both these people he was yelling at. And it could not be denied by any witness that this love was one that centered upon a single desire that these two be always happy, regardless of the pairing they undertook.
"Congratulation's, 'Mione, you've put me in my place and made it quite clear to me and everyone else in earshot who the better man in your opinion is. Well done, not that you losing an argument was ever any real doubt. I just wish you didn't have to make me feel like shite to do it." With this said he turned to make his way back to the Bar, the crowd that had been so dense and silent all began to part for his journey to Ms Rosemerta drawing arm.
In this Hermione's hard expression melted as a defeated hunch formed on Ron's back as he walked away and tentatively she extended out her hand in an effort to grab a shoulder and swing him around to face her again. But before contact could be made a dark and malicious voice rose up from the Main Street outside.
"HARRY POTTER, THE DARK LORD DEMANDS AN AUDIENCE. YOU HAVE STOLEN FROM HIM LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT AND HE WISHES HIS POSSESSION RETURNED!!"
As one the Trio forgot their dispute and like a bulk of the other patron's they all darted to one of the few windows looking out. What they saw was a hue of yellow light covering the entire village of Hogsmede and six figures in Death Eater Masks standing central to the Township's Square.
"WE KNOW THAT YOU ARE WITHIN THE VILLAGE, HARRY POTTER. LORD VOLDERMORT'S EYES AND EARS CAN BE FOUND EVERYWHERE. AND YOU WERE NOTED ENTERING THIS TOWNSHIP LESS THEN 40-MINUTES EARLIER. REVEAL AND SURRENDER YOURSELF NOW AND NO-ONE WILL SUFFER DUE TO YOUR COWIDICE. STAY HIDDEN AND A LOCAL WILL MEET THEIR FATE SOONER THEN THEY DREAMED WITH EACH PASSING MINUTE. AND THEIR DEATH WILL BE ON YOUR HANDS AND YOUR HANDS ALONE. WELL MISTER POTTER? THEIR LIFE OR YOURS?"
A/N - If you like then Review ;-))))