A/N: Slight R/Hr warning for the beginning of this chapter, but trust me when I say it's not what you think. Actually, this chapter isn't really about H/Hr at all, but about Harry and Ron's friendship. So just keep that in mind. The last part, in particular, was a very important scene for me because it finally details the two of them working out their last remaining issues. Plus, it was fun to write. Also, part of the Harry/Ron scene at the end was loosely based on a small snippet from Season 2 of Buffy. Bonus points if you can figure out which scene.
It was nearing a month after the breakup when Harry's worst fears came true. Ron was attempting to help Harry with his miles of unfinished homework, but he was becoming increasingly annoyed with just how far Harry had fallen behind.
Harry tried to ignore the twisting in his heart when he spied a page of Hermione's notes in Ron's hand. Was she worried about his complete lack of enthusiasm for schoolwork? Was she the one that asked Ron to help him out? Did she even care any more?
'Of course she cares,' a part of his mind said. 'Breaking up doesn't mean that your feelings just disappear.' Harry shook his head in a vain attempt at thinking. He was tired of dwelling on Hermione. He was tired of hurting.
Hermione spent all her free time in the library. She never sat in the common room anymore and only came up when she went to bed. Harry took his cues from her and stopped going to the library, sending Ron if he needed a book for a class.
Ron, for his part, thought the entire thing was ridiculous. "It won't kill you to be in the same room with her, you know!" he'd said after Harry had sent him on an errand to the library. "You do it in class plenty. You wouldn't have to talk to her or anything, just go silently by her to get your damn book."
Harry, who thought that having class with her was torture enough, had just stared at him until he squirmed and said. "Oh, all right! But you owe me…"
Harry looked at Ron now, who was pouring over an old page of Harry's notes and looking frustrated. "I don't even remember doing this stuff!" he snapped. "When was the last time you took any notes?"
Harry just shrugged. "I dunno."
Ron stared at him in vague disgust. "Harry you have to start paying attention! They'll kick you out, you know, if you don't keep up."
Harry, who'd never really considered that possibility, felt his stomach take a long dive. "Then… give me your old notes. I'll copy them all down."
"My notes won't do you any good, you know that."
Harry sighed. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
"You could ask-"
"No."
"I'm sure she wouldn't say-"
"No."
Ron looked pained and he shut his books. "Harry… there's something that you should know."
Harry stared at him, waiting patiently for him to continue.
Ron took a deep breath and continued. "The other day… well, I asked Hermione to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend."
Harry felt all the colour drain from his face. "Oh," he whispered.
Ron squirmed uncomfortably. "She said yes."
"Oh," Harry said again, feeling a cold pain work its way into his stomach. "That's… I'm happy for you Ron," he said, in a hollow voice. "I know you've liked her for ages."
Ron seemed very distracted by looking at the floor. "Yeah… Harry, I'm sorry."
Harry gathered up his stuff. "It's fine, Ron. We're not… it's been a month." Standing, he looked at him, trying very hard to smile. "I am happy for you. I've just… I've just remembered, though… I have to go…"
Harry ran out of the common room, went straight up to his dorm, threw himself face down on the bed, and prepared to stay there until he awoke and discovered that the entire thing was a nightmare.
Ron and Hermione were going to Hogsmeade together.
It meant that… not only had Hermione moved on (Harry's stomach gave a furious little lurch), but that she'd also moved on to… Ron.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. The last time he'd felt pain like this… it had been right after the breakup.
But, really, wasn't this what he'd wanted, after all? Wouldn't Hermione be much safer with Ron? And if Harry could have picked anyone for her, shouldn't it be his best friend? Shouldn't it be Ron, who'd liked her for ages?
Harry's head pounded. He didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it made him feel sick and guilty and like he was a horrible friend. Because really, all he wanted to do was go kill Ron. Painfully. Preferably multiple times. And then he wanted to resurrect Ron and kill him again for daring to go near his Hermione. Then he'd find Hermione, bend down, and beg until she'd take him back because he'd been so stupid to let her go in the first place… so very stupid…
---
When Friday night rolled into Saturday morning, Harry had yet to move a muscle. He'd slept fitfully, fully clothed, praying that Ron wouldn't try and talk to him again.
When Ron woke up the next morning, he stood awkwardly beside Harry's bed for about 10 minutes without saying anything. Finally, clearing his throat, he managed, "Are you going to Hogsmeade today, Harry? Because… because it might be good for you…"
Harry didn't bother looking up. He was afraid seeing Ron would cause him to start crying hysterically. "No."
Ron sounded relieved. "Oh, okay, then. Maybe you should try and catch up on your homework."
"Yeah."
Ron sighed. "Harry, I'm sorry. I really am. I know that you aren't over her yet, but…"
"It's fine. Go… have fun. You guys deserve it."
Ron shifted uncomfortably for another moment, clearly wanting to say something else but not sure how to go about it. Finally, he turned and left, leaving Harry blissfully alone.
An hour later, Harry made his way down to the common room, a stack of books under his arm. Ron was right about one thing. He did have to try and do his homework. The common room was empty but for some second and first years milling about. Harry growled at them, holding up his wand.
"GET OUT!"
They got out.
Feeling slightly cheered up, Harry curled up in an armchair and opened his first book Transfiguration: Year 6. Harry stared down at it bleakly. He couldn't even read the words on the page.
He'd never taken Hermione to Hogsmeade. Of course, they hadn't really dated long enough for that to be possible. But Harry wondered if he should've at least asked her. Cho had certainly seemed to expect it…
Harry wondered where Ron and Hermione went. The Three Broomsticks, perhaps? To start off slow. Maybe they'd finally gotten past the arguing… and on to their "real feelings" as Dean and Seamus had put it. Then, that would mean they were probably…
"Mr. Potter, could I have a word?"
Harry looked up sharply, the book sliding off his lap. Professor McGonagall was standing in the entrance way, her piercing eyes surveying him. She didn't seem to be particularly angry, but Harry had learned that Professor McGonagall wore the same annoyed expression most of the time.
He got up, feeling nervous. "Sure, Professor."
"My office."
Harry followed her out of the common room and to her office, feeling increasingly uneasy as he went.
She sat behind her desk and pointed to a small chair in front of it. "Sit, Potter."
He sat, trying to look innocent. He couldn't for the life of him figure out anything he'd done wrong recently…
"Why didn't you go to Hogsmeade today, Potter?" she asked kindly.
Harry looked at her in surprise. "Err… didn't feel like it…"
She frowned. "Potter… many of us on the staff are… concerned about you."
Harry just stared at her, surprised to see her look somewhat uncomfortable.
She sighed painfully. "Your work, Potter. Hogwarts has a certain level of excellence it projects. We expect all of our students to pass their courses. You are currently failing each and every one of yours. We can't make special allowances."
"What are you saying?" Harry whispered.
She looked sad. "I am saying, that unless you manage to pull it together by the end of this year, you will not be returning to Hogwarts."
Harry's stomach bottomed out. He felt like he'd just jumped out a 100-story building. He couldn't imagine… being expelled from Hogwarts because he was failing? He always knew that his rule breaking could get him serious trouble one day… but being kicked out because of his marks?
McGonagall seemed to sense his desperation. "Let me assure you, Potter. There is… almost no one here that wants to see that happen. However, that is no excuse. You are a bright, powerful wizard. I am deeply disappointed that you have suddenly turned a deaf ear to your studies."
Harry turned his eyes to the floor, not quite sure what he could say to that.
"In the mean time…" McGonagall paused and let out a breath. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to suspend you from the Quidditch team."
Harry nearly fell out of his chair. "But, Professor!" he protested loudly. "You can't be serious! They can't win without me… you know that!"
Professor McGonagall didn't even blink. "Potter, your well-being is more important than whether or not Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup."
Harry looked up at her. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'll try harder. I'll go over everything I've missed. Just… I need Quidditch. It's the only time where I don't have to think… it's the only thing I have left…"
Knowing it was useless, Harry stared furiously down at his clenched hands in his lap. He could slowly feel every inch of his life crumbling away beneath him. Hermione was gone. Quidditch was gone. Hogwarts would soon be gone…
McGonagall drew in a sharp breath. "Rest assured, Potter. I don't get any pleasure out of saying this to you."
Harry kicked miserably at the floor. "What do I have to do to get back on the team?"
"As soon as you raise your marks in every class, and I mean every class, you will be permitted to re-join the team. You're next match is three weeks away. It's not impossible, but it will be difficult."
Harry nodded mutely, wondering how in the world he was going to raise his marks at all in Potions. "Even classes taught by the head of Slytherin?" Harry asked quietly.
McGonagall gave him a tight smile. "We'll see."
Harry stood up. "I guess I should go and start working then."
"There is one more thing."
Harry sighed and sat back down. "I'm concerned that you're… losing touch with others. You're only confidant seems to be Mr. Weasley and…"
Harry stared at her, feeling a sharp, red anger begin to pool in his stomach. He welcomed it, silently reveling in feeling something besides the soul-wrenching pain he'd been wearing like a cloak. McGonagall knew so little about his life. She had no knowledge of the prophecy, or his feelings for Hermione, or the pain he'd been facing since the breakup. It embittered him to know that she thought she had any right to go poking into his life.
Furious, Harry stood, knocking his chair backward in the process. He met Professor McGonagall's somewhat stunned gaze. "I appreciate the concern, Professor," he said, his voice tight and perfectly-controlled. "Though I hardly think it's your place to express it. You don't know the first thing about what I'm going through. Excuse me."
Then, not quite able to believe he'd actually said that to a Hogwarts' teacher, Harry left without saying another word.
Anger evaporating as quickly as it had come, Harry rushed back to the common room, half expecting McGonagall to run after him to tell him he was being expelled immediately. Upon reaching the common room without any interruptions, he sank back down in his chair with relief.
Shaking, he picked up his books. He was determined to make the three-week deadline. He would be playing Quidditch again. He couldn't imagine life without it…
Harry studied for the entire day, barely stopping for lunch. Things weren't making much sense, but he was reading and re-reading chapters. He at least felt like he might have a slight idea what teachers would be talking about on Monday. With some reluctance, he admitted to himself that he'd never truly be able to catch up unless he asked for help. Namely help from Hermione. And that was something he really didn't want to have to do.
When the Hogsmeade students began returning, Harry stiffened and tried to concentrate on his books. It was a useless cause. He was petrified. Other couples were returning, looking flushed from the slightly wintery temperatures outside but happy from their day. Seamus Finiggan and Lavender Brown came giggling in, barely noticing that there was anyone else in the common room.
Harry stared back down at his book. The be-witching of Muggle artifacts can be traced throughout time. However, with the dawn of the Industrial Revolution and, more recently, the Technological Revolution, mixing magic with Muggle inventions has become a more lucrative practice…
More couples were returning. Ginny and Dean came in, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes.
Harry concentrated. … has become a more lucrative practice as most objects find themselves back in Muggle households, seriously endangering…
Parvarti Patil and her boyfriend of the moment came in. They didn't even bother to be subtle about it, but curled up by the fire and immediately began snogging.
Harry grit his teeth. …most objects find themselves back in Muggle households, seriously endangering the…
Hearing a noise, Harry looked up. His eyes widened to find Ron standing over him, his face red to the tips of his ears, and huffing and puffing. Harry was so startled that he could do nothing but stare.
Ron glared at him. "GET UP!"
Harry got up uncertainly. It was then that he realized that Ron's fist was coming through the air towards him. Harry ducked from pure, wild instinct. Ron punched the open air, stumbling slightly on his feet.
Harry scrambled behind the couch, heart beating very fast. Ron chased him around the couch and Harry backed away from him, holding his hands out. "Bloody hell, Ron!" he yelped. "What are you doing?"
Ron stalked towards him, punching one fist into the other. "I JUST SPENT FOUR HOURS IN HOGSMEADE WITH HERMIONE LISTENING TO HER CRY OVER YOU!"
Harry stumbled into the wall, and Ron's fist came at him again. He ducked, and Ron hit the wall, cursing loudly as he did so.
Harry rolled weakly out of the way and stood woozily on his feet again. "Ron… what… what are you doing?"
"Trying to kill you," he said, rushing Harry again.
Harry backed away from him, holding out his hands in defense. "Ron," he said faintly. "I don't think this is such a good idea…"
"Hold still, will you?" Ron growled, launching his fist in Harry's general direction again.
Harry easily moved out of the way and Ron nearly fell over. This, of course, only succeeded in making him angrier. Harry was somewhat horrified to see spit flying out of the corner of Ron's mouth. He stared at his best friend for a moment, making a split decision.
"JUST HOLD ON ONE MINUTE!"
Ron stopped, still spitting, eyes wide and furious.
Harry took off his glasses. He sighed. "Okay, let's get this over with it."
Ron punched him.
Harry's head snapped back, his cheek bursting alive in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if Ron was about to pop him another one. After a moment, Harry felt he was safe. Cradling his wounded cheek gently, Harry slowly opened his eyes.
Ron had thrown himself into Harry's vacated armchair and Harry was very much relieved to see that his face was almost a normal colour again.
Still holding his wounded cheek, Harry hesitantly sat in the chair next to Ron. "Do you… do you want to talk about it?"
Ron glared at him. "No."
Harry thought for a moment. "Would it help if I told you that McGonagall kicked me off the Quidditch team?"
"A little," Ron said moodily.
"So…" Harry tried, not quite able to resist himself. "How did your date go?"
Ron shot him a murderous look.
"Oh." Harry said, feeling hope soar in his chest. "Err… my cheek really hurts. I think you might have broken something."
Ron's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Oh, yeah. I might have to go down to the hospital wing."
"So you really think it might be broken?" Ron asked eagerly. "Are you in a lot of pain?"
"So much pain I can hardly think straight."
That seemed to cheer Ron up. "And… and McGonagall kicked you off the team?"
"Yep."
"Wicked."
"They might even expel me from Hogwarts."
Ron grinned. "Even better."
Harry let out a wry snort. "Thanks for the support."
"No problem," Ron said, still grinning.
Harry sobered. "What happened?"
Ron sighed, eyes darkening. "Hermione's not even close to getting over you," he shared quietly. "She, err… didn't realize that I asked her to Hogsmeade as any more than a friend."
"Really?" Harry said, not quite able to contain his joy.
"Yeah, for such a snotty know-it-all, I reckon she still has no clue." Ron seemed very interested in the floor. "Though… she's been slightly distracted as of late…"
Harry stared at him helplessly. "Ron… I'm sorry. I am. I wish… well, I didn't want things to turn out this way."
Ron blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Yeah, I know."
Harry studied him for a moment, mentally debating with himself. "What did…" he began hesitantly. "What did she say about me?"
Ron jerked a shoulder. "Lots and lots." He thought for a moment. "Well, she's worried that you're not keeping up with your schoolwork."
Harry found himself blushing. "Err… well, that's… awfully perceptive of her, really…"
"I tried to tell her that they probably wouldn't expel you." Ron made a face. "Naturally, she just heard the word 'expel.' Next thing I knew, she was crying and sobbing and blubbering on."
"She… she was crying over me?" Harry asked, sounding a little hoarse.
"Once the dam breaks…" Ron said with a shake of his head. "I don't understand why she couldn't just talk to Ginny about all this stuff. What the hell did she expect me to do about it?"
Harry's gaze shifted to the floor. "I guess she just needed comfort. She needed someone who cares about her. She needed…" Harry shrugged. "Damned if I know, but I'm glad that it was you."
Ron heaved a great sigh. "I'm not," he said. "I hate it when women cry. I hate it. You wouldn't believe it, Harry, but I actually truly hated you there for a while."
"Honestly? My throbbing cheek wouldn't be all that surprised."
Ron gave him a wry grin and shook his head. "She told me a lot," he said softly. "She told me… well, she told me why you broke up with her."
Harry's hands instinctively clenched. "She did?"
"It only made her care about you more," Ron added, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "She thought you were being all noble and chivalrous."
"She thinks I'm noble?" Harry repeated, a small grin forming on his mouth. "And chivalrous? She said that?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she also said the words, 'that moron,' 'stupid, idiot boy,' and 'insensitive prat' several times as well. But who's keeping track?"
"She thinks I'm stupid?" Harry echoed, feeling his stomach bottom out.
Ron ignored him. "She said she tried a spell to make herself forget about you but that she couldn't go through with it at the last minute."
A spell! Why hadn't Harry thought about it before? He was a wizard! Hermione was on to something. If he cast a spell to make his feelings go away…
Ron saw the look in his eyes. "No. No way, Harry. There's too much that could go wrong. Besides, is that what you really want? To forget everything you two shared?"
"Ye-of course not, Ron," Harry said.
Ron looked at him suspiciously. "I'm serious, Harry. I've seen what these forgetting spells can do to a person. You could lose your entire memory, you could end up insane, you could lose your mind-"
"Okay," Harry interrupted. "I get the point. And anyway," he continued morosely. "I wouldn't have any idea how to go about casting one."
"Right," Ron said, not sounding very reassured. Deciding to change the subject he said, "She spends every waking moment worrying about you. Not that she didn't use to, but I think it's worse now that you two aren't talking to each other."
Ron shifted uncomfortably, looking like he was about to go on before thinking better of it. Harry had a sudden, sinking suspicion. "Ron," he said slowly. "Did she tell you about the prophecy?"
Ron nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Harry. It's… I can't even imagine…." He frowned resolutely. "You're not alone," he said quietly. "I'll be there with you until the bitter end."
Harry blinked at him in surprise, feeling a warm comfort from his words. "I… really?"
"Don't be so thick, Harry. Of course I will be." His voice dropped. "I'm your best friend."
They stared at each other for a moment and Harry felt something inside him begin to heal. "You know," he said. "You're the guy who just punched me."
Ron shrugged. "Harry, if you spent four hours with Hermione listening to her blubber on about me, what would you do?"
"Oh, I'd punch you," Harry said immediately. "Then I'd torture you for hours. And then I'd kill you."
Ron grinned. "This is ridiculous. The pair of us fighting like five-year olds over Hermione. I mean, she's not even… it's… well, it's Hermione!"
"I know," Harry said softly. "I can't believe it, either. When did it all get so complicated?"
"Um, let's see. When did Hermione suddenly develop breasts?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You've been looking at Hermione's breasts?"
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron yelped. "I just happened to notice! It's natural! It's what boys do!"
"Well, fine," Harry grumbled. "But I don't like it."
Ron scoffed. "Oh, shut your hole. I caught you looking at my little sister's breasts the other day!"
"What?" Harry demanded, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I would never…"
"Sure," Ron said easily. "I'm just saying, we're getting older. It was sort of inevitable that she'd have to pick one of us in the end."
"Maybe," Harry admitted grudgingly. "I guess she made the wrong choice."
Ron stared at him for a long time before shaking his head. "I don't think there was ever any choice, Harry," he finally said softly. "It's always been you. I was just too thick to realize it. I always hoped…" Ron sighed heavily. "It doesn't matter. The point is, things for her were decided a long time ago."
Harry's heart soared. Some part of his logical mind realized that this only made things worse. It didn't matter how much distance he put between himself and Hermione-their feelings would still be there. But after being convinced that Hermione had moved on to his best friend, Harry thought Ron's words were the most incredible things he'd ever heard.
"You really think so?" Harry managed to choke out.
Ron's eyes darkened. "Yeah. She'll never love me. Not the way I want her to, at least."
Despite his intense relief and joy, Harry felt a large pang of pity for his red-head friend. "This whole thing is so buggered up," he muttered. "Maybe, I dunno, it would have been a lot better for everyone if Hermione had chosen you."
"You know," Ron said slowly. "I've thought that a lot, that things would have been better if she had. But, let's face it, Harry, any girl that you ended up falling for would be in danger. Besides, Dumbledore once told me that there's no use dwelling on "would have's.' It's not worth it."
"I suppose," Harry mumbled. "I mean… yeah. You're right."
Ron stared at him for a moment, as if just realizing something. "Harry," he said in a wondrous voice. "Do you reckon I should try and get over her?"
Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. "I dunno, Ron. I can't get over her."
Ron snorted. "Yeah, but you're in love with her."
"Hermione tell you that, too?"
"No," Ron said, grinning cheekily. "That I figured out on my own."
Harry took a deep breath. "Ron… do you think… do you think that I did the right thing when I broke up with her?"
"I dunno, Harry," Ron said seriously. "I understand why. So does Hermione. But honestly… it seems an awful lot like it isn't worth it."
Harry clenched his jaw. "Voldemort would… he would use her against me. I know he would."
"Maybe," Ron conceded. "Or maybe you could give Hermione a little more credit."
"Credit?" Harry yelped. "This is Voldemort! He's the most powerful wizard in the world… Hermione wouldn't have a chance against him…"
Ron scowled. "I don't know, okay? I'm just telling you what I think."
"Which is what?"
Ron looked uncertain. "That… that I don't know."
"Gee, Ron… that was… thanks. A lot, really."
"Do you want me to hit you again?"
Harry rubbed at his face. "No."
"Then shut your bleedin' trap and let me help you with your homework. We have a game coming up in three weeks, you know! AND WE NEED A SEEKER!"