"C'mon, Harry! This'll be your room for now, " Ginny coaxed, tugging on Harry's arm.
"I can't believe they intend for us to live here," Harry moaned.
"Well, it's only temporary. It'll be fun. This is just until we figure out what we're doing. Besides, the landlord gave it to us for free, as long as we signed that picture of us she had in her living room and come over for tea occasionally."
"This is so humiliating."
"Yes, well… it could be worse. We'll make do; stop complaining," Ginny cried, exasperated.
Harry surveyed the room. Hermione and Ginny had set it up for him the day before. He thought the gesture sweet but… unnecessary. They had put up all of Ron's Chudley Cannon posters on Ron's side of the room. On Harry's side was decorated with framed posters of school and the two pictures they had managed to take while the five friends stayed at the Weasly's for Christmas. A stack of fan mail nested on a shelf along with his old school books and Harry's scant treasured possessions.
It was as if they wanted him back in all those "carefree" times he had enjoyed at school. Not that he had had very much time to be "carefree". In fact, when he had ever NOT had his life on the line. They wanted Harry to forget everything he had seen and heard. The betrayal and pain, the fighting and war, wouldn't just disappear. He was supposed to find this place comfortable and welcoming. Did they really expect him to be happy here? Who could be happy in this place? In any place?
"I'm going to go check out my room, alright? I decorated Hermione's and she did mine. I want to see it," Ginny almost pleaded, breaking Harry's chain of miserable thoughts.
She pulled Harry into the room and plopped him down. 'She treats me like I'm her small child, not her boyfriend,' Harry thought, sitting placidly on the bed. He closed his eyes and lay down, listening to her heels tap on the floor as she walked away. Ginny had become so motherly. She was now so like Mrs. Weasly, the similarity was uncanny. Once Ginny's footsteps had faded and the murmurings of her and Hermione's whispered conversation had gone behind closing doors, shuffling sounds were audible from the other side of Harry's room. Harry opened his eyes and sat up.
"Ah! Warn me before opening your eyes, Harry! It's freaky!" Ron exclaimed, frightened.
Harry smiled, enjoying the honesty this statement provided. Ever since last summer, Hermione had kept more and more from Harry, so he had been made to rely on Ron for any truth. "Sorry, Ron. What's up?" he inquired.
"Not much. It's a little weird being here though," Ron sat down next to Harry on the bed. Harry exhaled, relieved that someone, besides himself, felt that way. He was momentarily very happy he was here and could talk freely. Harry laughed.
"What's funny?" asked a bewildered Ron.
"It's just… I feel the same way. Don't tell your sister or Hermione, " Harry answered and thought in silence for a moment, "Promise that no matter what happens, there'll be no more secrets. If we had just been able to sit down and talk openly, so many people would still be alive."
"Um, okay. I sort of thought that that was a given."
"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure, " Harry said, beginning to feel foolish for even starting the conversation, "So, um, what are you thinking about doing? You know… find a job?"
Ron's face brightened at the prospect. He had obviously thought a lot about this while recuperating at the hospital. "Well, I dunno. I sort of want to join Fred at the shop, then again… I dunno, "Ron suddenly became immensely interested in the exact shape of his thumbs and their movement in a twiddling – motion.
"C'mon, Ron, you know you can tell me anything," Harry wasn't particularly in need to hear but he figured it was the right thing to say.
"Okay! I'll tell you!" Ron shouted as if it had been forced out of him, "I think I want to go into the ministry! Don't laugh!" Ron exclaimed, anticipating outrage to an extreme degree.
"Why would I laugh?" asked Harry, confused.
"I thought… I thought… well, isn't the whole ministry deal sort of your thing?"
"Um… no," since when had the ministry been 'Harry's thing'? Wasn't it Ron's dad that worked there? Was there something he was missing.
"Well, not just the ministry, a certain job at the ministry."
"Yes, Ron, I assumed that."
Ron didn't catch the sarcasm in Harry's voice because he continued nervously, "Erm, not just a job at the ministry, this particular one. I was thinking… after all I've been through… I thought I might have it in me to… even though, I dunno what they're gonna do now but…"
"WHAT RON!" Harry interrupted, "just say it!"
"An auror."
"Oh, nice," Harry smiled with a little more effort than he expected necessary, "that's really great, Ron, you probably won't even need to go through training cause you have so much experience." Harry suddenly really didn't want to sit on the bed with Ron.
"Oh, okay, I'm glad you're happy for me. I'm gonna go get some air," Ron's smile seemed to have deflated slightly and the happy specks of golden glee had disappeared from his eyes, he obviously interpreted Harry's lack of excitement as barely concealed anger. He tied up his broken excuses for shoelaces and walked out of their shared room.
'He won't get in anyway,' thought Harry bitterly to himself. 'Ron was in the battle but not the front line. He's just a sidekick, that's all.'
'No, that's not all! That's an awful thing to say! Be happy for him. Ron is your best mate. He just wanted your approval,' Harry thought back to himself, a little guiltily.