A/N: Nothing happens in this chapter. Seriously. Nothing. But it is setting stuff up for later on… or so I'm telling myself, anyway. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed. You're all wonderful.
Harry was still awake when the sun rose the next morning, its yellow glow bathing the room in an earthly light. He stayed perfectly still, not planning on moving until Ron did. He didn't have to wait long. Harry closed his eyes when he saw movement in the next bed and heard Ron climb down, trying to be as quiet and stealthy as possible.
Unfortunately for Ron, that turned out to be nearly impossible. Whack! Ron let out a moan of pain and bent down, clutching at his toe, letting out a string of quiet curses as he did so. "Stupid, bloody bed!"
Harry used that excuse to open his own eyes. When Ron looked up from his bleeding toe and found Harry's eyes on his face, he let out a shriek of surprise, falling back against the bed. "Jesus, Harry!" he whispered. "Don't do that!"
Harry, so overjoyed at hearing Ron talk to him, suddenly forget everything that he'd wanted to say. However, Ron froze as soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes darkening. Angrily he began gathering up his clothes. Harry noticed that he looked about as tired as Harry felt.
Harry rose quickly. "Ron… how are you?" he tried.
Ron looked at him with bleary eyes before turning away in disgust.
"Okay. Guess that answers that then." Fixing on his glass, Harry ventured again. "So… I guess you heard about me and Hermione."
Ron kept picking up clothes methodically, most of which didn't even belong to him.
"I think that," Harry continued. "It might be a good idea if we discussed it, seeing as though you seem slightly upset…" Ron threw a pair of pants at him. The pants caught him squarely in the chest, but the blow didn't hurt all that much. "Or we could just ignore it, even…"
Ron's face turned red and he stalked out of the room, still wearing his pajamas and carrying a bundle of clothes. Harry followed him. "Ron, wait up! We were in the middle of a conversation…"
Ron kept going, refusing to turn around and look at him. Harry kept up with his fast stride, a foot or two behind him. When Ron reached the bathroom, he swung the door open, and slammed it right into Harry's face.
Harry rubbed pathetically at his nose. "Well, that went well…" he said, weakly.
Returning back to his dorm, he dressed, grabbed his homework and went to the Gryffindor common room to work on it. He had vague hopes that Ron would come down at some point and he'd have another chance to ambush him, but Ron locked himself in the bathroom and refused to emerge, despite Seamus' pleas with him an hour later.
Harry set about to do his work, setting aside his Care of Magical Creatures homework, hoping that Hagrid would let him weasel out of it. His History of Magic reading was almost as dull as Professor Binns himself, and it only succeeded in making him feel sleepier. He was halfway through his Charms homework before he realized that he didn't understand any of it, and that he may as well give it up before he fell asleep and never awoke. As the Gryffindor common room was beginning to buzz with early morning chatter, Harry set his stuff down and left for the Great Hall.
As he went, he heard Seamus cry out, "Ron, he's leaving. Will you please come out so I can go pee?"
Harry felt cold and hollow as he descended Hogwarts' long stairs to the Great Hall. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Ron refused to speak to him forever. He and Hermione were the only close friends he had, he needed Ron to get through everything that was going to come at him over the next few years.
In the loud din of the Great Hall, he scoped out Hermione, seated at the very end of the Gryffindor table, her nose in a book. He went to join her, but didn't say anything as he sat down. She hadn't appeared to have finished her homework either, and Harry knew better than to disrupt her when she was feeling slightly panicky over something.
They ate in silence, Hermione's quill meeting parchment the only noise. Harry was all too aware of Ron entering the Great Hall with Seamus and Dean. Ron met his gaze, saw him sitting next to Hermione, and steered Seamus and Dean to the opposite side of the table, his mouth forming into a tight line.
Harry sighed, and laid his forehead against the table. He was exhausted, his best friend wasn't speaking to him, and he was about to fail all his classes for the day.
Hermione gathered up her stuff, stacking her books in a pile next to her on the bench. She turned to him, as if noticing him for the first time. "Harry!" she greeted cheerfully, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. "You look exhausted."
Harry glanced at her through heavy lids. She looked flushed and rejuvenated. "You, uh, don't."
"Slept great last night," she said.
"That's good," he said distractedly, sneaking a look at Ron. He was refusing to so much as look anywhere near their end of the table, seemingly entranced in his conversation with Seamus and Dean.
Hermione followed his gaze, and he felt her hand seek his under the table. She squeezed his hand tightly. "I guess it didn't go well, huh?"
"Well, I wouldn't really know," Harry said honestly. "He sort of pretended that I didn't exist."
Hermione looked worried. "Oh, dear."
Harry thought that the situation was a little more serious than an 'Oh, dear,' but the last thing he needed was another fight with Hermione. "I don't understand… I mean, it's not like we were plotting to kill him or anything. Why won't he just let me talk to him? How can I make things better if he pretends I'm not there?"
Hermione sighed. "I'm not all that surprised, honestly. As you know, he's always sort of liked me, it just came out at times when he wasn't really expecting it."
Harry stared bleakly out the window, feeling like he must have been pretty oblivious if the whole world (Hermione included) appeared to know that Ron had some giant crush on her or something. Keeping his voice steady, Harry said, "And did you… you know… like him back?"
Hermione shrugged. "Maybe."
Harry tugged his hand out of her grasp. "Oh."
"Don't you dare!" she warned. "You asked, so don't get all uptight because you don't like the answer!"
Too tired to argue, Harry just nodded sleepily. "But you don't anymore, right?"
"Of course not," she replied crossly. "I like you or I wouldn't be here right now. But, Harry, this just goes to show that you would have been just as upset if things had gone the other way."
Harry, remembering how left out he'd felt the summer before with Hermione and Ron together at Grimmauld place and him stuck at the Dursley's, could suddenly sympathize a lot better with his friend. "But he'll get over it, right?" he asked uncertainly. "He's bound to be upset, at first. But he'll… he'll get over it…"
Harry found her hand under the table again, gripping it like it might give him the answers he was looking for. Hermione herself was a little less forthcoming, "I hope so."
Yawning sleepily, he rested his head on the palm of his hand, ready to close his eyes until classes started. He was rudely awakened by the arrival of the Morning Post, as a large document fell on his head with a dull thunk! It was Hermione's Daily Prophet. Taking a large sip of Hermione's morning coffee in hopes that it would wake him up, Harry turned the paper over, only to spit the coffee out into the faces of some second-years sitting across from them.
Too distracted by the horror on the front page of the Daily Prophet Harry didn't even notice the looks the second-years shot him. He pointed at it, not able to come up with any sort of coherent phrase. "The Prophet… it's… it's… bloody crazy… private… Hermione… what the bloody hell! Can't be serious… this is a joke… a nightmare… why would…"
Hermione gave him a disgruntled look and snatched the paper out of his hands. Catching sight of the leading story, she paled and set it quickly down. There on the front page, clearly marked as the leading story read: The Boy Who Lived Finds Love at Hogwarts.
"No… no… no… no…" he repeated over and over again.
Shakily, Hermione picked the paper up and began to read:
Harry Potter, famous vanquisher of You-Know-Who and the young wizard who brought his return to light, has finally found himself a girlfriend at Hogwarts. Muggle born Hermione Granger, long time friend of Mr. Potter and top of her class at Hogwarts, is the lucky recipient. It has long been rumored that the two shared more than just friendship. She has been one of the few constants in an otherwise tumultuous life for Harry Potter.
Rebus Hagrid who had watched them grow closer over the years, was overjoyed to hear the news. "Bes' two wizards yer likely to meet," he said. "Always been there for each other, only a matter o' time, really." (Hermione smiled, "Aww, that's sweet.")
Dean Thomas, a sixth-year student who shares a dorm room with Mr. Potter, wasn't at all surprised by the news. "They always spent all their time together, anyway. Hermione's really smart, but I never bought the excuse that all those late nights were because Harry 'needed homework help' if you get what I mean."
"You did need help!" Hermione burst out, furiously. "I was helping you!"
"He's just joking, Hermione," Harry said, shooting Dean an angry look.
Others, though, are less sure. Jane Noxon, a third-year student in Hufflepuff expressed doubt over the validity of their relationship. "Well, Hermione's really ugly. And, besides the brains, she doesn't really have a whole lot going for her. See, we think that Hermione put a spell on him or something. Because clearly Harry, who could have his pick of girls, can do much better."
Hermione trailed off, shooting Harry a warning look as he stood up, looking furiously towards the Hufflepuff table. "I'll kill her," he said. "She's lying, she doesn't know what she's talking about, you are not ugly."
"I know!" Hermione said, tugging him down. "She's just jealous, that's all."
Harry sent the Hufflepuff table another suspicious look, but he sat. "Keep going," he muttered.
We at the Daily Prophet can certainly understand the reaction, Harry has grown into a rather handsome looking boy over the years and is a favourite in many households. Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter were not available to comment, but we wish them both happy times ahead.
Hermione snorted. "Bet they'd love it if you broke up with me after reading this interview."
Harry, angry with the Daily Prophet, furious with Jane Noxon of Hufflepuff, and somewhat sick by yet more attention hit the table angrily. "Well, they're certainly NOT going to be getting any kind of THAT satisfaction, after what they wrote about you. The nerve of these people… I could just… just…"
To Harry's surprise, Hermione's entire face lit up with a blinding smile. "Harry, do you know what you just said?"
Harry, thoroughly confused, just shook his head.
"Instead of terrifying you, the article did… the exact opposite, really."
Harry blinked, still unsure of what she was saying. Swallowing any retorts, Harry just nodded. "You're right."
She beamed happily at him. It made him feel slightly goofy, to have her look at him so happily. "Let's go," she said, still cheerful. "You can curse Jane Noxon later, I want to see Hagrid before class starts."
Harry followed her gladly out of the Great Hall. By that time, everyone had read the cover of the newspaper, and he and Hermione were attracting looks from faculty and students alike. The exception being Ron, who managed to look everywhere but at him.
Once outside, Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Hermione?"
"Mmm?"
"Why doesn't it bother you? What people are saying? It bothers me and I'm not the one on the receiving end."
Hermione just shrugged. "I was sort of expecting it, I guess. Remember those rumors that horrible Skeeter woman spread back in our forth-year?" Harry nodded. "Well, I still sometimes get angry letters from people. You're famous Harry, and I know that you don't particularly like it, but you are. People are naturally going to look at me with suspicion, especially if I don't fit the image of the girl you should be dating."
Harry stopped her. "And what image is that?"
"Oh, you know, tall, pretty, brave, great Quidditch player, certainly not Muggle born, and probably not head of her class, either."
Harry went completely still. "Are you getting jealous of Cho again?"
Hermione shot him a look. "No, but I'm beginning to suspect that you want me to be jealous of Cho."
Harry, who'd sort of been hoping that very thing, started walking quickly towards Hagrid's hut again. "But people aren't taking the time to try and get to know you, they're just… glancing at you… they don't know you the way I do."
"Which is why," Hermione said, jogging to catch up to him. "You're the one going out with me."
Harry frowned. "That was just confusing."
"Besides," Hermione continued, ignoring him. "You're the one people never get to know. You're the Boy Who Lived, not a 16 year-old boy in love for the first time…" (Harry coughed loudly and Hermione sent him a disgruntled look) "…and you're certainly not just an ordinary young, wizard, trying to figure out what you want to do with your life along with everyone else. I can't even imagine what that must be like to live with."
Harry stopped outside Hagrid's hut, and sought out her hand. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For being the only one who understands that."
She smiled at him. "There's a lot about you I understand."
Harry smiled. "I know."
"Boy, yeh two're certainly sappy!" said a booming voice from behind them. They spun quickly around. Hagrid was clutching a big axe and grinning broadly. Fang was lying wearily next to him. "Been wonderin' when yeh'd come to tell me the happy news. I on'y found out when the Daily Prophet came 'round sniffin' out gossip."
Hermione flushed, "Well, it's sort of a new thing. We were sort of…"
"Trying to figure things out for ourselves first," Harry continued. "It wasn't like this was planned a long time ago or anything."
"I wouln't be too sure o' that, Harry. Always knew yeh two would end up together."
"Really?" Harry said, interested. "You didn't think she'd end up with Ron?"
Hermione shot him a warning look, but Harry watched Hagrid eagerly for an answer. He finally shrugged. "Always been somepin' about the way the two of yeh trusted each other." Hagrid's eyes lit up and he added with amusement, "An understanding, if yer will."
"Oh, shut up," Harry said, but without any force behind his words.
"Well, come in! Come in!" Opening the door to his hut, Hagrid shooed them in, depositing his axe on the floor. Hermione shot it a disgruntled glance as she gingerly stepped over it. Hagrid offered them some treacle fudge and Harry, seeing the hopeful look on his face, took it despite his better judgement.
Hermione stayed behind him, eyeing the fudge suspiciously. "No thank you, Hagrid," she said faintly. "Already eaten."
Hagrid looked at Harry expectantly, and Harry, closing his eyes, and bit of a tiny piece, chewing forcefully. Suddenly unable to move his jaw, Harry just said, "Mmmm…"
It seemed to satisfy Hagrid, who started the kettle for tea. Seeing his back turned, Harry dropped the remnants of the fudge into a nearby flower pot. Hermione rubbed his back soothingly. "You okay?"
"Mmm… hmmm…" Harry managed to get out.
"So!" Hagrid cried cheerfully, as the pot began to boil. "How's Ron takin' the news?"
Harry began choking, which was very hard considering his jaws were glued together.
"Not so well," Hermione explained. "Harry's tried to talk to him, but he doesn't seem all that… eager to listen to him."
Harry nodded profusely, suddenly fearing Ron's reaction to the article in the Daily Prophet. "Don't surprise me much," Hagrid said. "Always did have bit of crush on you, Hermione."
Harry slumped slightly. He finally managed to unglue his mouth enough to say. "Do you think he'll ever talk to me again?"
Hagrid regarded him sympathetically. "I 'spect he'll be able to get over it. Given enough time."
Harry nodded glumly, wishing that enough time was right away. Hearing voices outside the hut, Hagrid peered out the window. "Out with yeh. Time to start class." Picking up his axe, Hagrid flung it over his shoulder and exited the hut.
Hermione and Harry followed him, though at a much more subdued pace. "I wonder what he needs the axe for." Hermione said quietly.
Harry didn't answer, watching with horror as Malfoy, gripping an issue of the day's Daily Prophet, was gleefully reading its excerpts to an equally gleeful crowd. Upon seeing Harry and Hermione, he smirked. "Well, if it isn't the couple of the moment. Seen your coming out announcement." Feigning a look of worry, he added, "Of course, not all of it is good." He clucked his tongue. "Been making any love potions lately, Granger? 'Cause according to this source, you're too ugly to have landed precious Potter." Malfoy's audience roared with laughter.
Harry had his wand out before he even realized it. "You'll pay for that, Malfoy…"
"Harry don't!"
Hermione's warning didn't matter. Harry watched, stupefied, as Ron elbowed his way through the crowd, cracked Malfoy hard in the nose, and then towered over him, rubbing at his knuckles. Harry slowly lowered his wand as Malfoy feel to the ground, whimpering and clutching at his wounded face.
Hermione gripped onto Harry's arm fearfully. "Ron…?" she whispered.
Ron stood over Malfoy, his face the same colour as his flaming-red hair. "You EVER talk about her like that again and I'll… I'll…!" Apparently not quite sure what he'd do, Ron trailed off and continued to glare down at him.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. Hagrid came over to see what all the fuss was about, his eyes moving from Harry and Hermione, to Ron, and to Malfoy lying flat on his back. Moving people out of the way by the reach of his long arms, Hagrid reached Malfoy, grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt and hauled him to his feet. Wiping the dust off his clothes, Hagrid frowned. "Fell o'er did ya, Malfoy?"
Malfoy, looking a little dazed, sought out Ron with his gaze. "What? No… that's not what happened… I think…"
Harry clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing at Malfoy's befuddled expression. Harry caught Ron's eye, and the two shared a grin before Ron froze and looked away.
"Well, then, if yer'll quite done falling o'er, I'd like to get started…."
Harry looked around for Ron, spotting him in next to Seamus and Dean. He refused to meet Harry's gaze, and, despite the punch he'd lain on Malfoy, still seemed quite content to go on pretending that he didn't exist.
"That was something…" Hermione whispered. "Maybe he's beginning to come around."
"Yeah," Harry said dully, sure that Hermione was going into Wishful Thinking Mode.
"Oh, look!" she cried. "Hagrid's using the axe."
Sure enough, Hagrid began striking the ground… in what looked like random motions. The axe was leaving behind long, knife like slits. Hermione gasped aloud when, after a few hits, something small and blue popped out of the ground before disappearing again. Hagrid, appearing not to have noticed, continued hitting the ground in long, sweeping, random motions. His work was rewarded by a small, green ball that shot up in the air, twirled around and then disappeared. Another ball, this time red, shot up in the air, turned blue and disappeared once again. Soon the air was filled with flying balls, changing colours, lofting up in the air and then disappearing.
"They're called Yarmuchs!" Hagrid said proudly, watching them fly into the air and disappear back into their slit shaped holes. "Interesting little buggers, very rare. Lucky to have found some this time o' year. Trick with Yarmuchs is to give them a place to come out of… and a place to go back into."
Hermione's eyes widened in interest. "Why are they so many colours?"
Hagrid beamed at her. "I was hopin' someone would ask! They change you see, dependin' on their mood and the moods of those aroun' 'em. For homework…" the class, including Harry, let out a groan. Hermione leaned forward in interest. "I want you to figure out what each colour stands for."