Chapter Seven
Harry walked up the steps with slow and careful patience. He hated confrontations, and hated them much more when it was his best friend he had to approach. He didn't know what he'd say exactly. Maybe Ron would do all the talking . . .but where would that get them? Nowhere, he decided. Yep, this had to be dealt with, and dealt with now.
He took a deep breath before entering the boys' dorm. He shut the door behind him quietly, spotting Ron sitting on his bed, finishing up homework. Harry gulped and stared at his feet a moment before approaching Ron.
Without a word, he sat on his own bed, facing noticeably angry friend.
"Ron, listen-" He started.
"I'd really rather not to." He said coldly, not looking up from his work.
"Why not?"
"I don't want to listen to a liar." Ron said.
"I didn't lie." Harry said in his own defense.
"Close enough." He spat.
"You're being a prat Ron." Harry said quickly.
Fury rose in him so fast he couldn't handle it.
"I'm being a prat?" His gaze finally lifted, showing Harry his true anger.
Harry had a lot of regrets lately. And calling his best friend a prat, when he knew he was the real prat, was just added to the list.
"Sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm frustrated." He explained.
"You're frustrated? Hm, well, try having your two best friends stab you in the back." He glared up at Harry.
Harry sighed, "Look, I'm sorry we didn't tell you. We got caught up in ourselves. This has only been going on for-" had it only really been two days? "-two days."
"That's all?" He looked surprised, Harry noticed.
"Yes."
Ron eyed him suspiciously. "Only two days?"
"I'm not lying if that's what you're after." When Ron didn't say anything, he continued, "It feels like it's been an eternity though."
"I'd rather not hear the gruesome details."
Ron was becoming himself again, and Harry was surprised how easily it was to just talk things out. That went incredibly well, he thought.
"Good, I wasn't going to share the gruesome details." Harry smiled. "So you're all right?"
"Oh peachy," Ron said, going slightly cold again.
Uh oh, something was up. Guilt crept up Harry gut as Ron became hostile again.
"What else have I done wrong?" Harry asked.
"I'd really appreciate it if you'd tell me when you're going to ask out the girl I fancy."
Harry blinked at him in surprise.
"You . . .Hermione?"
"I've told you that already, Harry." Ron said, going slightly pink in the ears. "I told you last year I fancied her."
"Oh. Well, I had just forgotten."
"Obviously."
"Come on mate, I said I was sorry. There's nothing I can do now."
He just wanted to be back on good terms, for his sake and Ron's.
"I guess I'll just have to deal with it." Ron muttered on a sigh.
"I suppose you'll have to, yeah." Slightly more relaxed, Harry leaned back on his elbows.
"So I'm forgiven?"
"Yeah." Ron said, going back to his work.
Twice in one day Harry had to be forgiven. Wasn't that something?
"Hermione's in a state downstairs, go talk to her." Harry prodded when he thought the silence had gone on too long.
"I can't do that." He said, closing his text.
"Why not?"
"Because, I can't face her."
"You're going to have to." Silence. "Go already, won't you? I'm going to find your chessboard in the mess of a trunk you have there, and I'll be down in a minute." Harry stood.
The prospect of kicking Harry's arse in chess again made him grin. "Alright."
So Ron rose, and left the dorm, not knowing what to say to Hermione once he'd reached the common room. Before he opened the door leading to it, he took a deep breath.
He saw Hermione on a couch near the fire, her head on her knees, and her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked sad, and he felt sorry for it.
"Hermione?"
Her head shot up to see Ron standing before her, a blank expression on his face.
"Oh Ron, I'm so sorry we should have told you sooner." She stood and continued her babble, "I didn't want to hurt you, but I just, forgot and-"
"No need to explain Hermione. Harry told me everything. That is, except the gruesome details I told him to keep to himself." He smiled warmly at her.
"Oh Ronald!" She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and I'm sorry if I did."
He wouldn't admit she was right, of course, but he took the apology silently. He hugged her, glad that she was happy with someone, even if it wasn't him.
~*~
The trio had no further problems as November rolled around with its chilly weather, and the beginnings of December snow started to fall.
Hermione stared out the window of her dormitory. She and Harry were as happy as ever, and life was incredibly sweet. But as she sat there, thinking about it . . . would she ever see Harry again after graduation? They would go their separate ways of course. But would those ways be in opposite directions?
She sighed, fogging up the window.
Harry made her so very happy when she was with him. She felt whole, and complete when they were together. She loved his humor and how easy it was for him to make her laugh. She smiled sweetly at the thought. Well, she knew they'd been together for nearly a month now, and the Ball in December was creeping up on them, and of course, he would be taking her on his arm. And she was so looking forward to dancing with him, swaying with the music, feeling his gentle hands on her hips, and his whispers in her ear . . .
Oh she was daydreaming! Daydreaming of the silly things that happened in those muggle romance novels her mother read so often. But he was that kind and sweet, there was no denying it.
But daydreaming!
She rose, slightly frustrated with herself, and began to pace the room.
She was thinking foolish thoughts. Being with him forever, always able to see that handsome smile and feel his lips against hers . . . she put a hand to her jittery stomach. She stopped pacing the room, and stood frozen on the spot. Why, if she didn't know any better, she was acting as if she was . . . in love with him.
"Pish Posh!" She said on her own chuckle, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
She couldn't possibly love him, could she? They'd only been together for a month, maybe a little more. They hadn't had any spats since the day they told Ron. Everything seemed perfect. But should she trust it was going to stay that way?
Well, she wasn't going to tell him how she felt. No, not yet. It was too early, and she was still unsure of herself.
Pressing a hand to her jittery stomach, she rose from the bed and left the dormitory, not wanting to think any more about it.
~*~
"Honestly Ronald, you're being a prat." Hermione said one night, as she was helping him with his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay.
"Just because I don't understand all those long words you use doesn't make me a prat!" He said, smiling at her.
Harry watched the two bicker playfully, and he decided that he wouldn't want his life any other way. Friends to hang out with, a girlfriend he adored. It couldn't get any better. He smiled.
But it could get a lot worse, said a voice in his head.
Frowning, and shaking away the thought, he went back to his essay.
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