Boys Will Be Boys

Romilda Vane was not the only one caught reeling in the aftermath of Harry's proclamation. In fact, everyone in the whole common room was suddenly very much invested in the confrontation. One person, however, was not enjoying the dramatic scene nor gaping in awe like some of the girls in the room. He was a picture of rage, every bit of him wired with anger. A sick feeling tensed his insides, turning his breath sour.

Ron's arm went limp where he had been previously clinging to the fidgeting form of his girlfriend. She didn't seem to notice, her attention suddenly very much diverted from him. His eyes were fixed on the same scene. His vision pulsed with the strong, fury drumming of his heart.

Romilda Vane practically wilted before backing off with the air of someone who had just found themselves in a lions' den. Once she found herself at a safe distance, she joined her friends, keeping her head down.

The silence immediately made way for whispers and gasps, the spell broken. Ron was rigid with disbelief and outrage. His hands shook, his arms… his whole body was trembling with his anger.

Hermione then moved close to Harry. Ron watched as Harry moved his head imperceptibly towards her so she could whisper into his ear. His eyes picked up every cue, every shift of their body language, how comfortable they were with each other…

How close Hermione's lips were to Harry's face.

Ron's hands balled into fists. He glanced around, noticing that even though everyone had returned to their own business, eyes still found themselves gravitating towards Harry. Even when he didn't put on a show in front of a captive audience, he was the centre of attention. What made it worse was how clueless Harry was about all the attention, how he just ignored it, shrugged it off… and that, it appeared, made him all the more mysterious and all the more the topic at the tip of everyone's tongue.

Ron had enough of hearing about Harry Bloody Potter.

A prickle of guilt stirred under his anger. A painful clench of shame. He buried it under his anger and hate. It was easier to hate, easier to blame, than to think of how he had messed up and hurt Hermione's feelings. He allowed himself to get swept up in the euphoria of the moment. He finally had the chance to have something that Harry didn't have. Lavender wanted him.

He leapt for the chance to have something of his own for once. Something he achieved on his own merit. Lavender liked him for him, not because he was Harry Potter's mate. Being wanted, being seen, was all he ever wanted. So he seized that opportunity and lived for the moment.

It all blew up in his face. His friends had been nowhere to be seen. He didn't get a clap on his shoulder from Harry, no 'congratulations mate'. Instead, he was met with a chilly reception and then Hermione attacked him. Rather than be outraged on his behalf, Harry bailed on him. He left him, standing alone covered in feathers, reeling in shock.

It wasn't supposed to go that way.

Seamus let out a breathy laugh from his seat next to Ron. Ron's furious eyes flashed over to him questioningly.

"Just when I thought he couldn't be more of a ponce," Seamus said as he drew his knee up to his chin. "Can't even fight his own battles without a girl holding his hand."

Ron looked back over to where Harry and Hermione had turned, both talking secretively to each other. Fire burned in his gut at their closeness, at the separation… guilt… shame…

He clenched his hands into fists, pulling up his anger again. He was the wronged party. They abandoned him.

With the drama over, Lavender draped her arms back around him and squashed her lips on top of his. He reciprocated.

I have this. I have a relationship. I have someone who wants me.

But each kiss, each time Lavender's tongue entered his mouth, each vivid contact her hands made on his body weren't enough to drive away the guilt.

The common room was starting to empty out as the curfew for the younger years sent them up to their dormitories. A subdued hum of hushed conversations thrummed through the room, accompanied by the pops and crackles of the fire that continued to warm his and Lavender's backs.

"Mind coming up for air for a moment, Ronald?"

Lavender gave a squeak of surprise at the intrusion. Her lips parted from his. Ron noted that his lips were starting to feel sore from the continuous kissing, but this discomfort was a necessary evil. He extracted himself from his girlfriend to confront his little sister. His eyes narrowed when he took in Dean at her side. Seamus stiffened at the presence. He and Dean were not on talking terms.

To say that things were currently tense in the sixth year boy dormitory was an understatement. Only Neville hadn't contributed to the hostilities.

"What is it, Ginny?" He asked, irritated. She crossed her arms at his tone, raising her brow in a way that reminded him starkly of their mother.

"In case you're wondering about Quidditch practice, don't. Harry's cancelled until next term. "

His gaze flickered over to where Harry was sitting. He hadn't thought about Quidditch in a while, what with his attention diverted elsewhere. Guilt prickled under his skin. He mustered up his anger quickly to bury it. He gave a harsh snort and shrugged.

"Whatever."

At the word, Ginny's eyes hardened. She looked over at Lavender and jutted out her chin.

"I really hope she's worth it, Ron, because friendship is a lot more valuable than having someone around to snog."

His face flamed. He pushed himself up to his feet, facing his sister. Once again, the Common Room was soaked in silence as another drama unfolded.

"That's rich, coming from you," he spat, then gestured at Dean. Ginny didn't lash out. Instead, a dangerous smile curled on her lips. It was pure venom. She unfolded her arms and patted him on the shoulder.

"I, at least, was single when we started dating… not sure you can say the same, can you?"

He frowned, confused. He then looked over her shoulder, looking at Hermione, seeing her look of concentration as she leaned over whatever Neville was working on. He felt again that pang of longing and loss.

Ron didn't pay attention to Ginny's chilly retreat, his gaze fixed on Hermione.

We weren't dating. She asked me to the party, yeah but… as friends. We were going as friends.

Guilt crawled up through him. He could see Harry's stony, cold expression as he spoke with such heavy sarcasm.

"Congratulations, Ron. You kissed a girl. Really… good job. Wasn't the right girl though, was it?"

Ron's face felt numb and hot at the same time.

I never promised anything. I was a free agent.

"I can't believe she actually was going to go through with it." Lavender's voice snapped him out of his internal turmoil. Ron latched onto the conversation topic, eager for anything to distract him. He shifted over, only realising then that Lavender wasn't talking to him but instead Parvati, who had slipped into the seat next to her best friend. Their heads were close, speaking in hushed voices as they gossiped. He frowned, trying to work out what they were talking about. He struggled to keep up with their gossip at the best of times.

"It would have been pointless anyway," Parvati said back, briefly biting her lip as she looked past Lavender, seeing that he was listening. Her eyes widened in a flash of alarm before looking back at her friend.

Lavender hadn't noticed her panicked glance.

"What do you mean?"

Parvati recovered and leaned in closer to her friend's ear. Ron edged closer himself, listening in.

"They're going together…"

"Who? Going where?"

"The Christmas Slug Club party. Harry and Hermione… you heard what he said? That she has no equal. It's obvious!"

Lavender's gasp made Ron jump. He angled his head upwards, looking for proof that would dispute Parvati's report. Her gossip reports were sometimes far-fetched and inaccurate. Yet, the twisting in his gut was telling him otherwise.

"Ron… have you really never heard the expression 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'?"

It hurt. He wished it didn't hurt as much as it did, but it pierced through him. His breath caught, the icy dagger pushing through his chest.

Hell hath no fury…

His throat, tight with emotion, struggled to work properly as he swallowed. He rolled his shoulders back, ignoring the two girls and their gossip as he shifted towards Seamus. He patted Seamus on the back, getting his attention from the book he was reading. He met the other boy's questioning look, anger surging in his gut, burning his throat, burning everything else away.

"What you said earlier about being my backup… did you mean it?" Ron asked Seamus, causing him to sharply gaze up at him. Seamus read his intent from his thunderous expression and he gave him a firm nod.

"I meant it." Seamus then dipped his chin, understanding. He glanced over to where Dean and Ginny had joined the others in their year. His expression darkened. Ron ran his tongue over his lip, levelling a look of intense loathing at the mess of jet-black hair across from them. He saw the playful punch his sister placed on Harry's arm, grinning at some shared joke. Hermione didn't respond from her work, offering only a small smile. The exchange was natural, amicable… friendly. And Ron was an outsider looking in at the group he no longer belonged to.

"Good," Ron practically growled as his rage grew all the more intense, "because they've made their move and it's our turn next."

With the sixth year boys' dormitory currently split into two warring tribes, or so it felt, Harry tactically spent as little time there as possible. He and Dean had been the last up the previous night, purposefully avoiding Ron and Seamus. Both boys had already gone to bed by the time they made it, both sharing relieved looks as they went to get ready for bed. Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, feeling responsible for Dean's and Seamus's fall out. The other boy insisted that it wasn't Harry's fault and all down to Seamus's behaviour. Harry could tell that there was more to it, but he respected Dean's privacy. His business was his own, after all.

The view out the dormitory window was dazzlingly white. The grounds were covered beneath a perfect blanket of snow. A few flurries wisped past the window. Behind him, he heard someone draw back their hangings. He turned, his eyes meeting Ron's for a brief moment before they both looked pointedly away. Harry ignored him as he went to his trunk, packing his bag. He set off out of the dormitory. He caught Ron watching him in the corner of his eye, but he ignored him. Once he was in the clear, he shook his head. Something in the back of his mind played on him as he walked away, something that made him sigh.

After putting Romilda in her place, Harry began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Overhearing Hermione and Neville's plans for Christmas hadn't helped his mood. He tried to keep upbeat, joining in teasing with Ginny, but it felt false. As he sat with them, listening to their conversations, he suddenly, very painfully, felt guilty.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his and Hermione's actions were purposefully hurting Ron. They had played on Ron's insecurities, making it clear that he was cast out from their friendship. He and Hermione were a team, a united front.

He upset Hermione. It's only fair, he thought to himself as he reached the Portrait Hole.

He made his way through down the Grand Staircase alone, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere before the hubbub of the morning mayhem. When he reached the Entrance Hall, he caught the sounds of conversation drifting out from the Great Hall. Only a dozen or so students were early. His shoulders slumped a little when he noticed that Hermione was yet to arrive. He headed to the Gryffindor table, picking a spot as far from anyone else as possible. Thankfully, the low number of students meant he didn't have to face a room full of whispers.

He dropped his bag on the bench and swung his leg over, settling down. He raised his head just as Professor McGonagall and Snape entered together, discussing something privately under their breaths. His legs immediately started to bounce up and down as he sat with his elbow propped on the table, settling into a vacant state as he stared into space.

"Morning Harry," a cheerful voice broke him out of his glum thoughts. Neville joined him, sounding a little breathless.

"Nev, how come you're up so early," Harry said, a little surprised.

"I haven't finished my Charms essay so I thought I'd make an early start. I wish I hadn't left it so late. I could have done with the lie in." Neville said glumly. "So… uh… how come you're early?" Harry met his gaze meaningfully. Neville sighed. "Ah right. You know they won't try anything with me and Dean in the dorm, especially after Dean had that fight with Seamus."

"I'd rather put as much space between them and me as possible," he said brusquely, "They've made their opinions of me pretty clear."

Neville wore a dark look at that.

"What went wrong, Harry? How did we go from the camaraderie of last year to this? Petty squabbles in the dead of night over… sn-snogging."

Harry laughed at Neville fumbling over the word, but sobered when he realised that Neville had a very good point. He rubbed at his nose, looking down.

"Beats me. All I know is that a bloody snog isn't worth hurting a friend's feelings over."

He glanced up and saw Neville wearing an understanding look as he gave a short nod.

"I'm glad you stuck with Hermione. She…" Neville looked away, his cheeks pinking a little. "I know she appreciates it a lot."

It wasn't long until breakfast arrived. Being early to the table had some benefits as they had the first pickings of the more sought after items of the breakfast selection. Harry knew he had more than his fair share of hashbrowns on his plate when he went to eat. Soon enough, the Great Hall filled up with students. Harry's back tensed up when Ron and Seamus arrived, sensing their glares as they passed him, their hostility radiating off them in a way that made him immediately register the threat. He started to wonder if they would resort to accosting him in the corridors or if they were too cowardly to confront him.

Harry was no stranger to how boys behaved, especially in a gang. He had a front row seat to how Dudley's gang operated when they beat the stuffing out of him on numerous occasions. He knew how insecure boys reacted when they were challenged - often, they lashed out with violence.

The hostility directed his way from other boys his age made sense to him. He was the centre of attention through no real merit of his own. He wasn't charismatic or inspiring at all. He was a piss-poor conversationalist, didn't really have that many interests and had next to no life experience. In truth, he was socially inept and hated attention. He didn't want to be in a pissing contest with a bunch of boys because they were jealous of his popularity. He didn't even want to be popular.

Harry knew the warning signs. He'd seen how other boys tensed and stupidly squared up to him in the corridors as if bracing for a challenge. He thought it was utterly ridiculous that they really believed that he would be in any way intimidated. But when it started to feel like half the school wanted to kiss him and the other half wanted to fight him, he found himself missing when everyone believed he was a nutjob. Being popular was stressful.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't register Hermione's arrival until her bag loudly dropped in the space next to him. He jerked his head up in alarm, seeing her rather flustered face. She met his look and smiled.

"Morning," she said, a little breathless. He noticed that her hair was speckled with snow like his had been. She also was wearing her outdoor cloak.

"Morning… where have you been?" He asked her, startled at her late appearance.

"Owlery. I needed to make an order for Christmas. I only have a week until I have no access to an owl," she was a little out of breath. She looked at him as she sat down.

"Oh, you should have said. Hedwig would have liked the exercise," he said.

She waved her hand. "I thought you might need her so didn't ask." Hermione then busied herself with some toast and scrambled egg.

"I'm heading to the Library," Neville announced, clambering up. "See you in Charms."

As he went to leave, Harry could have sworn he gave Harry a small wink. A little bewildered, Harry gulped down some pumpkin juice.

"Any problems in the dorm?" Hermione asked him under her breath before she went to eat. Harry glanced across at her, seeing her worried expression.

"Nope. I missed them. You?"

"No… actually. Parvati's being oddly kind. I think she feels a bit uncomfortable," Hermione gave a sniff, her expression showing exactly what she thought of Parvati's sympathy. "Though she did ask me about what I was planning to do with my hair for the party seeing that I've managed to get the most sought after date. Again."

She spread some eggs on her toast and picked it up to eat it, her eyes drilling into Harry's over the toast. He stared back, at a loss, as she bit into it and chewed. His brain then caught up.

"Oh? I'm in the same league as Viktor Krum now? Good to know."

Hermione nodded, emptying her mouth before continuing. "The whole school will be aware that we're going together on Friday now. Parvati is the gossip queen of the tower."

He gave a soft snort at that. Once she finished her breakfast, Harry set down his goblet.

"Um, shall we head to the dungeons? Get there early?"

Hermione nodded and they set off before Harry gathered too much attention. The warmth of the upper castle left them as they descended the spiral staircase. As it was every winter, the descent into the chilly subterranean dungeons was as bitter and cold as it always was. The lit sconces on the walls did nothing to chase away the frigid chill that seemed to radiate from the floor and walls themselves. Their breaths misted in front of them as if there was a dementor around.

They were the first students and the door to the classroom was still shut. They both leant against the wall, rubbing their arms against the chill. Thankfully they didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open. Slughorn's impressive stomach preceded him as he stepped outside. He beamed at them when he saw who was early.

"Bright and early, eh? Good, good… come on in out of the cold."

Eager to leave the chill, they stepped into the fumey classroom. As always, it was perfumed with the odd combinations of different potions, the many scents and aromas ever quite leaving the stuffy room.

"I'm glad you are both here early." Slughorn said as he led the way to the front of the classroom. "It gives me an opportunity to discuss something with you before your classmates arrive."

Sharing a curious and wary look, the pair went to join the rotund professor at his desk.

"As you no doubt know, a number of guests will be attending our Yuletide Soiree - ex-students whom I stayed friendly with after their graduation. Many of whom are… rather successful in their fields." He smacked his lips together in a rather unpleasant gesture that made Harry's skin crawl. He did his best to not react. "Suffice to say, there will be a great many… influential witches and wizards present. Yourself included, Harry, my boy."

He felt his face heat up and his stomach clench.

"My point is I do not wish you to feel… out of place and so I've taken some matters into my own hands to spare you any embarrassment." He plucked two sheets of parchment from his desk and handed them out.

"As my two best students, I wouldn't wish you to feel underdressed. There is still some time until Friday so if you get your order in today, the robes will be ready."

Harry looked down at the parchment in Slughorn's fingers. He gleaned the logo of Madame Malkins, the robemakers in Diagon Alley. His shell shocked mind then worked out what Slughorn was saying.

"Sir, I have dress robes…"

Slughorn chuckled. "This is a formal event, Harry. You'll need full formal dress, not just an outer robe."

Hermione came to his rescue.

"You'll have to wear a suit, Harry."

A suit!?

Harry baulked. He had never worn a suit in his life.

"I have… curried some favours with the robemaker to cover any orders from my students so consider it a Christmas present," Slughorn said fondly, "and I think… you may want to look your best, hmm?"

Harry gaped and he glanced at Hermione. He saw her own cheeks pinken. She mutely took the two order forms from Slughorn.

"Professor, you really didn't have to go to so much trouble."

Slughorn waved a hand. "It was no trouble. I have a little… personal investment in wanting you both to steal the show. Not to gossip, but I assume you will be attending together?"

Harry could hear their classmates starting to arrive. Not wanting to be caught having this discussion with Ron or Malfoy in earshot, Harry cleared his throat.

"Yes, we are," he confirmed. Slughorn clapped his hands together, his eyes lighting up in an almost boyish glee.

"Drawn to brilliance like a moth to a flame, eh Harry?" He boomed. Harry winced, wishing for the conversation to be over. "Well… get yourself ready. We're brewing something useful but a little complex today."

Relieved at the dismissal, Harry retreated from the front desk. He scrubbed his hand through his hair and dumped his bag down at the desk. Hermione was already checking her equipment, her movements practised and precise. He marvelled at how she had taken everything in her stride.

"Harry, your cauldron's crooked." Hermione pointed out, peering up from where she finished arranging her desk.

While he adjusted his cauldron, the other classmates started to filter in.

"Are you okay?" Hermione whispered.

"Yeah, I… I'm fine. Just… a bit embarrassed."

Harry bent over his bag, rummaging for his copy of Advanced Potion Making. As his fingers closed around it, he stomached an unpleasant lurch of unease. He placed the book down on the desk.

When he straightened, Hermione didn't stare at the book but at him. She smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners with amusement.

"Are you really this nervous about having to wear a suit?"

He groaned resting his head on his hand, doing his best to ignore the sounds of the other students getting set up.

"No, I mean… I don't think so." He shook his head, looking up at Slughorn who was getting ready, his conjured chalk starting to write on the blackboard. He leaned over to Hermione.

"I just feel a bit like a show pony. It's bad enough that he wants to parade me around his 'influential' friends," he did his best to mask his bitterness, "now he wants to dress me up as well."

Hermione sighed softly at his honesty and put a hand on his arm. He shot her a smile, grateful that she understood why he felt uncomfortable rather than relishing in the perks of fame like his worst critics expected of him.

"I know but… if it's any consolation, I think you'll look good in a suit," she said quietly. Harry's head snapped around to look at her with so much velocity, his neck cracked. Hermione's lips were curled up, her eyes bright.

"I… well…" Harry had no idea what to say. His face was even warmer.

"If it makes you this uncomfortable though, I can order for you. I remember your measurements from the summer." Hermione said, then her cheeks pinked. "I mean, while we were at Madame Malkins, I overheard and…"

Harry stared at her, feeling a mixture of amusement and flattery.

"Um… sure, if you don't mind," he said. Thankfully, Slughorn chose that moment to start his introduction lecture on the potion they were brewing for the double period. Determined to fully distract himself, Harry focused more than he usually would on Slughorn's lecture. He even took notes which was a first for potions, something he had refused to do when Snape taught the subject. The potion they were making was a blood replenishing draught. Something that caught Harry's interest for once as it was a potion that might come in handy.

Once they were released to start brewing, Harry opened his book to the potion's method. The Half-Blood Prince's tidy handwriting didn't cover too much of the recipe. There weren't that many amendments, just a few notes here and there. He glanced over his shoulder as he went to prepare the base, seeing Hermione's tight-lipped look as she saw the scribbles on his book.

He decided then to not use the Half-Blood Prince's changes. He was going to show her that he could manage without a leg up. He did get an Exceeds Expectations in his OWL without the book, after all. Without Snape looming over him, knocking him down every chance he had, he did actually have some ability when he concentrated.

While he let his base simmer, he performed the usual glance around the classroom. To his surprise, he was doing rather well on his own. At his side, Hermione was writing some notes. She looked up, sensing his stare, then her attention went to his cauldron. Her brows furrowed, her eyes hard and sharp as they always were whenever he used the Prince's instructions over what was printed.

He continued with his potion, seeing the next steps were to add the valerian root. The Prince had added an amendment next to it.

Add lichen before the root, not after.

He ignored the change, scooping the valerian root that he had diced earlier in his hands. He carefully added it to his cauldron before going to stir. He glanced up at Hermione, seeing her staring at his copy of the book and comparing it to her own.

He went to continue but a hand rested on his wrist, stopping him. He looked down at it, seeing Hermione's neatly filed nails and her delicate fingers. Following her arm, he found her face. Her eyes drew him in at once, so warm and rich with emotion.

"I know what you're doing," she said softly, "you don't need to prove to me…" She sighed. "I've been a real harpy about that book, haven't I?"

He didn't want to say 'yes' when he did feel that way. Instead, he gave a small shrug and a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry." Her apology was genuine, as was the guilt in her gaze. Her sincerity made him at once forgive her and he dipped his chin in response.

"Don't worry about it," he said at once, "mind if I read from your copy? The crossings out make it a bit hard to read."

After that, her rather stiff attitude towards him relaxed and she started to remark on things he was doing, waiting for him to catch up with her so they worked on stages of the method at the same time.

He started to ask questions.

"Do you think the pinch of purple lichen is a big pinch or a small pinch?"

"Do you think I need more heat?"

"Does this look ripe enough to you?"

Harry began to enjoy himself and, judging from the warm smile that was now a permanent feature on Hermione's face, he could tell that he wasn't alone. Once upon a time, a double period of potions would have been his idea of hell. Instead, time flew by and before long, they only had twenty minutes left before Charms.

Before long, Slughorn gave the order for everyone to step back from their workstations. He took samples of everyone's efforts. He appreciatively smiled at Harry and Hermione as he decanted samples and tested them.

"Oho! My two top students are working together in the spirit of collaboration, I see?" He announced a little too loudly for Harry's comfort.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said at once. Harry's stomach clenched strangely when she said it. He could see Hermione's bright, warm smile in the corner of his eye.

"Excellent work you two. Ten points each to Gryffindor." He beamed under his large moustache and bustled over to Harry, clapping his hand on his shoulder as he passed. Harry's gaze followed him, curious about how the rest of the class got on, but then Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. He looked over to her, his face warming again at the sight of her dazzling smile. He risked a glance over his shoulder then immediately snapped his head back to the front of the classroom. His eyes had met Ron's briefly but it had been enough. His hairs were standing on end as his adrenaline reacted at the ferocity of Ron's anger.

That look…

Harry and Hermione put away their belongings. Once everything was stowed away, the bell rang out, signalling the end of the lesson. Slinging their bags over their shoulders, Harry and Hermione turned to head out. In front of them, Ron who rather violently swung his bag on his shoulder and kicked his stool aside. Harry pulled back mid-step, wary of the volatile display. Ron charged out of the room. Harry glimpsed his vividly red ears before he left the room as quickly as he could.

It didn't take much to imagine the cause of his bad mood. Harry shared a look with Hermione, noticing her smile had dwindled away.

"He has no right being angry at us working together," Hermione said under her breath.

"I know, but we did… rub it in a bit," he quietly said, feeling uneasy. Hermione just scowled in response.

They left the classroom, hurrying out from the cold dungeons. Once they reached the Entrance Hall, they parted ways. Harry had a free period while Hermione had Arithmancy.

"I'll see you later," Hermione said over her shoulder as she bustled off, not wanting to be late for her class.

Watching her go, Harry felt her absence keenly. Standing alone in the Entrance Hall, Harry realised rather suddenly that he had nowhere to actually go. He'd finished all his homework, so there was no point in going to the library for his free period. Going up to the Common Room had a likelihood of crossing paths with Ron. He hesitated for a moment, before angrily shaking his head at himself.

"So what?" He told himself, then paused as he realised that he had questioned himself out loud. He started to crave the solitude of his bed in the dorm and he began making his way towards the Gryffindor Tower. The staircase was fairly empty as he made the ascent, what with most of the students in class. Only sixth and seventh years had free periods and they were the smallest year groups in the school. The younger year groups were baby boomers, born after the war.

He grunted the password at the Fat Lady and shouldered his way into the Common Room. As he marched his way into the Common Room, his presence stilled all sound in the room. His pace faltered at the unpleasant silence. He glanced around, tensing at once when he saw Ron, Lavender, Parvati and Seamus occupying the seats that used to be the spot where Harry, Ron and Hermione would take.

Seeing them made him all the more desperate for some time alone, especially after seeing Ron's reaction when he left the Potions classroom. Harry wasn't in the mood for an argument. He didn't even know what mood he was in. He felt dazed after the Potions class and without Hermione's presence, he felt cast adrift.

Vulnerable.

It wasn't a nice feeling. It reminded him too much of his experiences in Little Whinging Primary School. He had a strong desire to run and escape a game of 'Harry Hunting'.

Before he made it to the dormitory, activity flared from the group. There was a strangled, angry growl, followed by a panicked voice.

"...Ron, don't!"

Lavender had no chance of getting through. Not when Ron was in a fury. He lurched out of the seat, immediately making a beeline for Harry, who clenched his hand around his wand.

"You're a fucking snake, Harry," Ron seethed. Harry turned stiffly, taking in a deep breath. Ron pushed aside a chair in his charge, his face flushing with rage. Seamus stalked behind him, wearing a sneer that Harry knew didn't bode well. Lavender and Parvati followed, both wearing fearful expressions.

When Ron reached a few feet away from him, Harry glanced at Seamus and drew his hand out from his pocket slowly.

Civil. Act civil.

With a great effort, he didn't rise to the insult and instead lifted his chin.

"Uhuh?" He questioned. "How d'you figure that?"

"You know… you know exactly what you're doing," Ron's face was contorted with his rage. Harry tensed. "It's no wonder everyone thought you were the heir of Slytherin. You're just like them. Scheming away to get what you want, no matter who you hurt in the process."

Harry frowned, searching Ron's face.

"If this is about Hermione-."

"You know what it is about!" Ron shouted, reaching Harry. He jabbed a finger into Harry's chest. Harry quickly controlled his immediate reaction to draw his wand. "All that crap about breaking her heart, about how I was so wrong to date Lavender when it would hurt Hermione's feelings… and all along, you were worming your way into her good graces. Just like how you manipulated me with that potion plot… masterful really, Harry."

There was something cold and twisted in the way that Ron glared at him. It was more than just anger and hurt.

"Ah okay… so what you're saying is that my ulterior motive is to impress Hermione and win her over?" Harry took a step towards Ron, swiping his arm aside to knock Ron's hand away. "Gee well done. I guess you have me all figured out. "

Harry gave him a disdainful glare, his voice flavoured with icy sarcasm. He then turned his back on Ron. He took one step before Ron ploughed on at his back.

"Everyone thinks you're such a big deal , but I know the truth," Ron hissed. Lavender murmured something to him but he ignored her. Harry's neck stiffened. "You're nothing without Hermione, without her holding your hand in class, without her fighting your battles and making your plans…" Ron reached him again, grabbing his shoulder and wheeling him around to force him to face him. Harry gritted his teeth and met his glare.

"That's the real reason you cling to her side. You know that without her, everyone will see what a pathetic loner you really are."

Something cold pierced through Harry.

Chuckles sounded all around him. Piers pulled his arms painfully at his back, twisting his wrist. Tears smarted in the corners of his eyes and he tried to pull himself free. Dudley loomed over him.

"You know what happens when we find you."

"Get off me!" Harry shouted, terrified. "Help me pleas- AH!" Dudley's meaty fist pummelled into his prone stomach.

"No one's going to help you. You're a loner… no one cares about you!"

The next punch broke his glasses in two.

"Stop it… just everyone calm down," Parvati gasped out at once, thawing from her silent vigil behind the boys with Lavender. Harry let out a breath.

Loner.

Pathetic.

His heart was thudding madly in his chest, his anger and his panic flushing him with adrenaline. He grabbed Ron's shoulders, pushing him away from him. Seamus then was at Ron's side at once, squaring himself up. Harry ignored Seamus, his focus fixed on Ron as his outrage and his hurt gripped into his lung like iron claws.

"What point are you even trying to make? That I value my friendship with Hermione because I don't want to be alone. Well no shit, Ron. That's why people have friends in the first place." Harry didn't take his eyes off Ron as he advanced one step, not backing down. "I actually value my friendships because they are all I have. " He punched the last three words out, his glare turning molten.

"Oh right, here it is. You think you're so fucking untouchable because of your tragic little life…"

"Enough!" Harry snarled, now just as angry as Ron. He pushed Ron away from him again. "Don't you dare sink that low!"

"Why not, Harry? Can't face it that people only tolerate you because they feel sorry for you?"

"Ron…" Lavender gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth.

"You're a leech… and I can't believe it's taken me this long to see it. You use people, Harry. You use Hermione for her help and her smarts. You used me for my family so you don't have to go back to your muggle relatives. " Ron shoved a hand into Harry's shoulder. "Who else are you going to use, Harry? Who is next on your list?"

It whined through Harry's head like white noise. His fist curled and his jaw tensed. He'd hexed Malfoy for less. To his horror, he felt his eyes sting in the corners, the hurt overwhelming him.

Harry didn't need to shout or rage to make it clear how angry and hurt he was. He took a step back from Ron.

"Is that really what you think about me?" Harry said quietly. Ron didn't answer, his face set with rage and hatred. "Let your family know to expect one less for Christmas. I'm staying where I clearly belong. Alone." He turned sharply from them, snatching his bag up from the ground. His emotions in utter turmoil, Harry was desperate to leave before his composure cracked.

"You're just gonna let him have the final word?" Seamus asked, astonished.

"Leave it," Parvati said harshly. "You've done enough."

Harry rushed up the stairs to the dormitory, his heart racing, his chest tightening. He hadn't spared Ron a single glance, not wanting him to get the satisfaction of causing him pain.

Because it was true, without Hermione, without Ron and his family, he would be all alone in the world. The thought terrified him more than he would ever admit.

The clattering of many sets of cutlery clanking and scraping over many plates was only just dominated by the low hubbub of human voices. The anthem of a meal time in the Great Hall throbbed from the ground floor landing on the Grand Staircase, a sound that put Hermione at ease as she made her way to lunch. She had spent the last lesson uncharacteristically distracted. Arithmancy was her favourite subject usually, but all the way through the lesson, she couldn't help but notice the absence at her side. Her side-along glances were rewarded only with Terry Boot who shared her desk. There were no small comforting smiles, no bright green eyes… no Harry.

Emerging into the Great Hall, Hermione adjusted her bag on her shoulder and searched the Gryffindor table for the mess of black hair.

He wasn't there.

She halted midstep as Neville leaned forwards, spotting her, and waved her over. She approached, noticing that Ron and Lavender were sat further down and were for once not snogging. She reached Neville, slipping into the spot next to him. None of their usual acquaintances were around. Dean and Ginny were absent, likely making use of a broom cupboard.

"Where's Harry?" She asked the moment she sat down. Neville froze in mid chew, looking at her with wide, shocked eyes. He swallowed.

"I thought he was with you."

"I had arithmancy," she said, then searched the table up and down again. Neville frowned and glanced down the table to where Ron and Lavender were. Hermione followed his stare.

"He didn't come to the Library. I spent all morning there." Neville then put his cutlery down on his plate neatly. "He's probably had a nap and overslept."

Hermione knew Harry never had naps. She served herself her lunch, doing her best to ignore the squirming unease in her stomach. She didn't feel like eating when she didn't know where Harry was. Why did he have to make her worry all the time? After a few mouthfuls of her jacket potato, she gave up.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder. Hermione's head flicked around, finding Parvati's rather pale face looming over her.

"Have you seen Harry?" Parvati asked her. Hermione felt a clenching in her chest at the question.

"No, I had arithmancy."

Parvati bit on her lip, glancing down the table like Neville had done.

"Ron and Harry had a fight," Her face tensed and she met Hermione's eyes directly. "What?" Neville asked then, twisting on the bench. He was furious. "Is Harry okay?"

"I don't know. He went up to the dormitory afterwards but no one was hexed or hit." Parvati wrung her hands. Hermione dropped her cutlery down on the table. She pushed herself up from the bench, drawing up to Parvati, who recoiled. She looked genuinely guilty.

"Harry is still in the dorm?"

"I believe so… if he's not with you," Parvati whispered. Hermione immediately turned, snatching her bag from the bench. She managed a quick farewell to Neville before tearing across the Great Hall, her lunch abandoned.

Her emotions swung between fiery, blistering hot rage to heart-wrenching worry. Her thoughts were a mixture of threats of serious bodily harm towards Ron and panicked woes about a hurting Harry who was all on his own. For Parvati to seek her out and tell her, she knew it had to be bad for her guilt to make her move against her best friend's boyfriend.

The Common Room was deserted, which wasn't a surprise when the school were down in the Great Hall for lunch on the Monday. It still was disconcerting to have the room bathed in daylight without a person in sight.

Her chest felt tight with trepidation as she made her way up the boys' staircase, her emotions turbulent.

What could have Ron possibly said to upset Harry so much?

While Harry's temper was quick to blow, he rarely got upset. At least, not on the surface. Angry and aggressive, certainly, but never visibly hurt. He rarely showed his true feelings unless with people he trusted, and those numbered very few. Not very many people would know how to really hurt him. Ron was one such person.

Would he stoop that low?

She reached the door to the sixth year dormitory, hesitating. In the past, she had breezed into the dorm without a care, but things were different now they were older. Privacy mattered.

Carefully, she pushed the door open. She knew at once which bed was Harry's, knowing it to be the one in the direct line of the door, beside the far window. The hangings were drawn back, showing Harry's slightly distrubed bedsheets, not neatly made like the others. She stepped inside, frowning, searching for Harry. One step in and she caught sight of his bag next to his bed, unceremoniously dumped there.

A soft thud drew her attention away, spinning to look behind. When her eyes landed on the wooden door that led into the shared bathroom, her face immediately flushed. Gulping, she crossed to the door and wrapped her knuckles on the wood.

"Harry? Are you in there?"

A loud thud and what sounded like a strong expletive that Harry rarely used in her presence. He was definitely in there.

"Hermione?" Harry called out, sounding alarmed. "Erm… give me a minute."

She retreated back and turned to his bed, looking for something to distract her from the fact that Harry had been likely using the toilet or the shower. Both of which were embarrassing in different ways. As she reached his part of the dormitory, she noticed that his set up was different than what she was used to. Usually, Harry kept his bookshelves and drawers clear, preferring to store everything in his trunk. She looked up at the books he had put up in pride of place. Most of them were defence books, a couple on Quidditch. Her attention turned to the framed photographs he had on display. She had never seen them before.

The moment she saw who the photographs were of, she felt as if she was intruding. His parents. She swallowed and retreated back, spotting then that Harry had left his glasses on the bedside table. Beside them was a black comb.

Harry actually combs his hair?

Stepping back, she noticed that his trunk was open. His outer robe had been dumped on top, along with his tie and shirt…

Oh no…

The door clicked open behind her and Harry cleared his throat. She refrained from immediately turning around. At once, her senses were beset with a fresh scent, like pine needles. She heard his soft footsteps approaching. She turned and did her very best to keep her gaze fixed on Harry's face, his face which was rather pink while he crossed the room, holding his towel to his bare chest.

"Er… sorry. I wasn't expecting you to… um," Harry said, reaching his trunk. He threw the towel down and quickly grabbed his shirt.

Hermione looked away, giving him privacy. She turned her back on him.

"I wasn't expecting you to be having a shower during lunch." She said weakly.

"I wasn't hungry and figured I might as well make use of the showers while the others are down in the Great Hall." He replied. She glanced over, seeing with relief that he had his shirt on and was looking down as he buttoned it up. Her gaze lingered on the plains of his stomach and his chest. She saw dark hair over his lean body. The lines of his muscles.

A surge of warmth rocketed through her, nearly knocking her back on her heels. Her face was hot.

I am NOT eyeing up my best friend.

She met his eyes and felt very suddenly a little light-headed when she gazed to the green depths, unhindered by his usual round-framed glasses. His dark lashes made them appear even brighter. It hit her, while standing so close, just how more grown up he was. The events of the previous year really had aged him.

"I take it that you being up here, breaking the rules, is because you found out about the fight earlier," Harry said as lightly as he could. His jaw tensed, betraying his concealed hurt feelings. "Don't worry. There were no fists or hexes."

He bent down, taking his tie from his trunk. Hermione slung her bag off her shoulder and went to sit on his bed, watching him. His brow was furrowed as he quickly knotted his tie and sorted out his collar.

"Harry… I've known you for years. I know what you look like when you're trying to hide that you're upset," Hermione said softly once he snatched up his jumper and robes. He pulled his jumper on and sighed, leaning against the post of his bed.

"I want to stop winding him up, Hermione. He's… not worth it," he said in a low, soft voice. He didn't meet her eye, staring instead into the distance. "I know you want to get back at him but he's… he's not thinking clearly… especially not when he made it so fuc- so personal."

He sighed, walking around the bed. He sat down next to her and reached across for his glasses.

"What did he say?" Hermione asked, feeling a sickening lurch of hatred at the thought that Ron said something personally upsetting to Harry.

"I can't tell you… you'll just go and attack him with a flock of birds again."

"He'll deserve it if he upset you!" Hermione said, aghast. Harry sighed as he put his glasses on.

"Yes, he would, but that's not the point," he said, resting his hand on his head. "He's never going to apologise and see that he's in the wrong if we keep attacking him."

She opened her mouth to argue, frowning, but she looked up and saw how resigned and sad Harry looked. He put his hands together, folding them on his robes on his lap. He was silent for a few seconds.

"If I retaliate or if you retaliate, we just… I dunno… confirm that this is a conflict. I know how he thinks, Hermione. He likely sees this as a game of chess. Play and counterplay. If we don't make a move, he won't counter, and we'll be stuck in a stalemate."

She stared at him and realised that he had a point. Of course Ron would know their actions were part of a plot against him. They had actively played on that to make him realise what he turned his back on. They forced him to retaliate and lash out at Harry, made him feel like he had to out of pride. But what did forcing a conflict even achieve? Just more hurt feelings, more heated words.

It achieved nothing. Harry's right.

"Do you… still want to go to the party together?" She carefully asked. Harry looked over at her in surprise.

"Of course I do." His voice was hoarse. "But… only if we… we go with each other because we really want to."

Hermione felt as if an iron hand had wrapped its fingers around her heart and squeezed.

Did Harry think I wanted to go with him just to get back at Ron?

"I don't…" Harry swallowed, a flicker of pain rippling over his face for a second. "I don't want you to feel like I'm going with you to keep girls off my back. I would… I would never use you like that."

The silence in the dormitory was all the more pronounced as they both stared at each other.

"I know, Harry." She frowned, seeing the hurt lingering in his eyes. What did Ron say? "And I want to go with you too. I… I never wanted you to get hurt because of me and I'm sorry if you ever felt like I only went along with this to get back at Ron."

She spoke quickly before her voice hitched. Harry's eyes roved around her face, the tension leaving him. To her astonishment, his eyes started to dew in the corners. Harry never cried. He let out a breath, steadying himself. Slowly, he brought his hand over to hers and took it in his. His hand was so warm, slightly rough from Quidditch practice.

The gentle silence stretched on. Harry looked down at their linked hands, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he struggled with his emotions.

"Thank you," he said softly. Hermione's eyes focused on his lips as he breathed the words before going back up to his eyes. His gaze lifted at the same time as hers and he smiled.

His eyes sparkled as he did. A real, genuine smile that was all for her. Hermione smiled back and leaned towards him, wrapping her arms around him. His arms came up around her. She let out a breath, closing her eyes as his wet hair brushed against her face. His fresh scent of pine forests was stronger close to his hair. The smell of his shampoo.

Drawing back from him, her face warm and her eyes wet, she turned to grab her bag. She dragged it towards her and opened it.

"With that out the way, there's just one thing we need to do." She announced. She removed two sheets of parchment and put them on her lap. Looking across to Harry, her smile broadened.

"Time to order you a suit and me something to match. Dates do traditionally match, after all."