Chapter 5: The Ron Factor
Harry awoke next morning to all the twitterings and flutterings that had pulsated around his body the previous night, depriving him of much sleep. He wondered where Hermione was at that moment, finding it strange that she wasn't in his room. He had grown accustomed to waking up and finding her next to him, tea and toast on the bedside table, the Daily Prophet open in front of her. But not this morning, and it gave Harry's stomach a leaden feeling.
A series of terrifying thoughts screamed around his mind: did she regret last night? Was she ashamed or embarrassed by it, thus explaining her absence this morning? Did she think it a good idea at the time, but now regretted taking Harry's hand as they pretended to watch the movie last night? One thing was for sure, he needed to speak to her and soon.
He found her downstairs, halfway though her breakfast. She smiled shyly at him as he walked into the kitchen and sat down opposite her. She was blushing slightly, her gaze seemingly directed at anything except Harry. But Harry was determined; he didn't take his eyes off her for as long as was possible, he didn't want to seem rude or pushy. Once or twice he caught her gaze as she chanced a glance at him, her expression difficult to read but at least, Harry thought, she can still look at me.
Harry felt truly awkward with Hermione for the first time in the fortnight they'd spent together. As soon as this feeling occurred to him, Hermione seemed to pick up on it, looking at him intently and throwing him a glowing smile. Harry grinned nervously back but she didn't seem convinced that she had solved Harry's awkwardness. She moved around to sit next to him, speaking in a husky whisper as if trying to be covert.
`Let's just get through today,' she said breathlessly, `we can, well, sort things out, back in school. Okay?'
`Yeah, OK,' Harry said, feeling a relaxation pour over him; at least some of the awkwardness had lifted.
Hermione's dad had agreed to take them into London to buy their school supplies in readiness for the new term. The Hogwarts book lists didn't contain any surprises; the latest Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6) and upgrades to Advanced from Intermediate for all of the subjects they would study in their NEWT years. Hermione had considerably more books to buy, due to the fact that she studied considerably more subjects than seemed neither possible or necessary, nor healthy.
After depositing Mr Granger on the Muggle side of The Leaky Cauldron, Harry and Hermione weaved through the pub, significantly more crowded than Harry could remember it ever being, and emerged on Diagon Alley. After a quick stop at Gringotts, to stock up on money, they made their way along the packed, winding street towards Flourish and Blotts. They had only just stepped out of Gringotts when a shrill voice pierced the air, shrieking in their direction.
`Ooo, look who it is!' It was Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin sixth year who was part of Draco Malfoy's gang. `Its Potty Potter and the Mudblood! God, Granger, I thought you were supposed to be clever. Hasn't anyone tell you that going out with Potter is like a ticket to death? If not by You-Know-Who then by the Bad Taste Police!'
The gang of ugly, spotty girl-cronies that accompanied Pansy laughed hard as she taunted Harry. Hermione had lost the slightly nervous look she had been wearing all morning, returning to the fiery glare she had worn for Dudley.
`Don't make me hex you, Parkinson!' Hermione scowled, her arm sliding into Harry's and holding it tight, `I don't want to make you any uglier than you already are, your mother might try to sell you at market.'
The Slytherin girls stopped laughing and looked menacing, Crabbe and Goyle style. Each was about twice the size of Hermione (some actually built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle), several showing traces of facial hair and some with the craters from acne scars. Harry dragged Hermione around so that he was face-to-face with the Slytherins, and drew his wand. They shot him apprehensive looks; clearly a boy who had survived an attack by Lord Voldemort was a different prospect, and they slouched away, mouthing wordless threats at Hermione.
`Why are you letting all these insults get to you?' Harry asked, `They're aimed at me after all.'
`People are always picking on you, Harry,' she said pityingly, `it isn't fair and I wont stand for it any more.'
Harry guided Hermione down the street. It was crammed with people, all clambering over each to reach the tight, claustrophobia-inducing shops, all stacked with bulging bags and parcels, many with flustered children in tow. Flourish and Blotts was just up ahead, the familiar stream of Hogwarts students rolling in and out of the aged shop doorway visible from some distance away. Harry was about to step inside when, over the heads of the thronging crowd, a floppy mass of fiery red hair was making for him.
Ron was now more than six feet in height, tall and gangly, his craned neck towering over most of the younger people around him. He made his way to Harry and Hermione, beaming profusely with a package tucked safely under his arm.
`Hiya Harry, I was starting to think I wouldn't bump into you,' Ron said. He glanced down and saw Hermione; his brow creased as his gaze moved across and saw her arm entangled with Harry's.
`So…got everything now, have you, Harry?' Ron said scornfully. He cast several more disparaging glances down at Harry's arm, not even bothering to hide the scowl on his face.
`What's that supposed to mean?' Harry said indifferently, though he thought he could probably guess the problem.
`Oh well,' Ron retracted quickly, not anticipating Harry's cold tone, `I meant, well…you know…books and…everything.'
Ron glanced at Hermione for the first time as Harry replied, `No, not everything. I haven't got my books yet.'
Harry could feel a sort of possessive anger swirling and gurgling in his chest, his eyes pinned on Ron and, knowing, from the way she tensed up, that Hermione could detect the discomfort of the situation.
`What's that you've got?' Hermione asked Ron sheepishly; Harry knew that this was her way of trying to diffuse the tension but he thought it might have been better if she just kept out of it.
`Oh this,' he spat, holding up his package, `New robes, nothing to interest you. Well, anyway, we're all down in the Leaky Cauldron having lunch if you wanna join us later. That's if, of course, you can tear yourself away.'
And he marched off. Harry was fuming; he hadn't felt this mad at Ron since the Triwizard Tournament. He sparingly recalled the pleasure it gave him when he threw one of Malfoy's Potter Stinks badges at Ron, and the surge of masochistic glee he felt when it hit him in the head. Hermione broke this dark chain of thought.
`What was that about?'
`You don't know?' Harry cried incredulously, making several small children nearby jump for cover.
`Know what?' Hermione asked. Her tone was odd and it gave Harry the impression she was feigning ignorance. Still, he wasn't going to do Ron's dirty work for him.
`If you don't know,' Harry said sharply, `Then you aren't going to hear it from me.'
Harry stormed into the shop, yanking down several books he didn't need just to take pleasure in creating a mess, as piles of books tottered to the floor.
`Calm down, Harry, please,' Hermione pleaded, `You're making a scene!'
Harry looked around and found a crowd of people watching him, several looked disturbed, others frightened; some gleeful in a way that Peeves or the Weasley Twins would respond to the situation. Harry, though, felt shameful. Not only for what he was doing but also for what he was thinking about Ron, and also for how bad he was making Hermione look.
`Sorry,' he mumbled.
`Its ok,' she said, almost consolingly, `Look, move over. Accio Books!' The books flew into Hermione's arms and Harry took them from her and placed them on the shelves, apologised to the shop assistant and hurried outside after making his purchases. Hermione followed him out and they made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron. As they stepped through the brick wall, and it sealed itself behind them, Hermione drew Harry to one side.
`Look, Harry,' she said quietly, `Before we go in…'
`We should act normal,' Harry interrupted, `I don't want to aggravate Ron. Lets just not do any of the arm-holding thing, OK? I'll explain to him why we were, well, intertwined earlier and see if he calms down.'
`That's not what I was going to…'
`It doesn't matter,' Harry said quickly, `this is what we're doing. Just go with me on this, please?'
Hermione reluctantly agreed and they stepped inside. The Weasleys were sat in the middle of the floor where two tables had been pushed together. Ginny, Fred, George, Charley and Bill were eating from a variety of dishes while Mr Weasley read the Daily Prophet. Ron sat sulkily at the end of the table; Mrs Weasley was on her feet before Harry could even put his shopping down.
`Harry!' Mrs Weasley cried as she pulled Harry into a suffocating hug, `How are you, dear? We expected to see you this summer. Shame you couldn't come. Did Dumbledore say why he wanted you to stay away all summer?'
Harry chanced a look at Hermione, but her expression was blank and confused. Clearly, she had no idea why Dumbledore would not have told the Weasley Family the truth of Harry's absence.
`He didn't say,' Harry said truthfully, `He mentioned something about it last year, but it was just after Sirius…and I didn't pay much attention, really.'
Mrs. Weasley shot him a pained look and turned to Hermione, dragging her into a softer, yet still bone-crunching hug of her own. Harry was then clobbered by another hug from behind.
`Arry! Eet is so good to see you, though you are steel looking `ungry.'
`Hello, Fleur,' said Harry as they broke the hug; Harry noticed a disproving look on Hermione's face. `Congratulations on the engagement.'
`Oh, zen you `ave `erd!' Fleur said gleefully. `Eesn't it wonderful! My seester, Gabrielle, is to be my bridesmaid and she will be so `appy to see you. She speaks of nothing else!'
Harry, now slightly hot and embarrassed, broke away from Fleur and made for Ron, who turned away huffily. Harry was determined to have his say.
`Look, about earlier,' he began, but Ron cut him off.
`You don't have to explain,' he said acidly, `Quite obvious to me. You know how I fe-…my letters this summer…meant nothing…my friend…supposed to be.'
Ron seemed more enraged than Harry had ever seen in five years of friendship. It was the look he donned whenever Hermione mentioned Viktor Krum. Harry wasn't sure how he was going to explain this away.
`You got the wrong idea mate,' Harry began nervously, `it wasn't what you think.'
`Yeah?' Ron spat, `Then what was it?'
`It was…er…' Harry cast his eye around for inspiration for an excuse. It came in the form of Hermione.
`It was Pansy Parkinson,' she said matter-of-factly and she trotted up to them.
`Pansy Par-…' Ron began, `What's she got to do wi-…'
`She was goading Harry and me,' Hermione continued, with her patient, unaffected air, `She was saying nasty things about Harry, called me a you-know-what and so I just grabbed Harry to show her we didn't care about her insults. We just forgot to untangle our arms. Then we bumped into you.'
`Well, I saw Pansy,' Ron said in a thoughtful tone, as if trying to disprove concrete evidence, `She was walking from you, giggling and stuff. She called you a…a thing? That bloody cow!'
Ron's mood had changed so dramatically that Harry was taken aback. Soon they were chatting away like nothing had happened, turning the air blue with rants about the Slytherins, Ron using some choice words that made Hermione blush. Harry was bemused, looking at Hermione whenever he thought it was safe, trying to gauge if she knew what she was doing. She caught his eye a few times and smiled, and Harry understood that she had a plan. He hoped it was a good one.
That night, Harry had a most unusual dream. He was walking aimlessly around the Great Lake talking to his Firebolt, which was using its tail twigs to walk. He was telling it how much he loved it and how he would do anything for it. He had to comfort his racing broom that although Ron may be allowed to borrow it on special occasions, it was Harry's pride and joy in the end. Then he was running around the Hogwarts castle, trying to escape Hermione. She was chasing him with his Broomstick Servicing Kit, swearing that she would service his broomstick all the time, and that he'd never have to do it again. All he had to do was knit a few elf hats and they'd be even…
When the time came to board the Hogwarts Express the next day things seemed to have returned to normal. Harry and Hermione had reached an unspoken, unthought, untelepathically-communicated agreement to not mention the last two weeks of summer to Ron. For his part, Ron didn't push Harry too much on the matter. Harry excused away his two weeks of silence with embellishments about his grief over Sirius' demise, the worry about the return to prominence of Voldemort, or the unceremonious shunning that constituted his life with the Dursleys. Ron only commented on the last of these reasons; he seemed awkward and unsure whenever Sirius' name came up and every time Harry mentioned the `V-Word' Ron looked as though he may be physically sick.
The worst moment came for Harry when the train was pulling away. He, Ron and Hermione had stowed their luggage and pets into a compartment at the end of the train when the latter two reminded Harry that they had to go to the Prefects compartment for the first part of the journey. Hermione gave him the most fleeting of apologetic looks and dumped her cat in his arms.
`Crookshanks will look after you, won't you Crookshanks?' Hermione purred in a baby-voice, `He's so gorgeous, isn't he?'
`And the cat isn't bad either…?' Harry said quietly so only Hermione could hear, trying hard to disguise the hopeful, fishing-for-complements tone in his voice. Hermione grinned cutely but didn't answer, choosing instead to give Harry's hand the quickest and most covert of squeezes before following Ron out of the compartment and down the train.
The train journey was rather dull when you were without your two best friends. For a while, Ginny had sat with him but after twenty or so minutes of awkward silences, following inane and pointless conversation, she made her excuses and set off in search of Dean Thomas. Luna Lovegood was there too, apparently unwelcome in most of the other compartments, but she was immersed in this month's edition of The Quibbler, the latest sighting of a buck-toothed vampire clan in Bromley the topic of hot news.
When the lunch trolley wheeled around at around one o'clock Harry bought himself some of everything, choosing binge-eating to while away the hours. No journey back to Hogwarts would be complete without a visit and tirade from Draco Malfoy, and he didn't disappoint on this trip. It was around 3:30, Hermione and Ron still hadn't come to pay their dues and Harry was getting concerned at their lengthy absence. As the compartment door opened Harry swung his head up expectantly, the look dying from his face when he saw the white-blond head of Malfoy.
`Expecting someone, Potty?' Malfoy sneered, Crabbe and Goyle guffawed in his shadow, `The tooth fairy perhaps? It's a useful friend to have considering your new…well, older friends.'
Harry went numb. He knew instantly that Malfoy was referring to Hermione's parents; the tooth fairy jibe aimed at their careers in Muggle Dentistry. Did he know where Harry had spent the summer?
`Problem, Malfoy?' said Ron as he emerged from behind the considerably wide frame of Crabbe. Ron and Malfoy were similar in height and stature; both wore matching looks of disdain and loathing, both had fists balled around wands in their pockets.
`And if I do Weasel King?' Malfoy snarled, `Gonna sort me out are you? You and whose army?'
`Ours,' said Hermione from down the corridor. Harry peered towards her voice and saw her flanked by no fewer than ten members of the DA, all with wands drawn, standing behind Hermione like some sort of Royal guard. Malfoy looked uncertain for a moment (undoubtedly remembering his last encounter with the DA), sneered at Ron and shot Hermione the dirtiest look he could muster before trooping off down the train.
`What did he want?' Ron asked casually as he sat opposite Harry and pulled several Chocolate Frogs to him.
`The usual,' Harry said blandly, `Empty threats, meaningless jibes, a few lingering bad odours.'
`Luna,' Hermione said softly, `someone was looking for you down the corridor, I said I'd send you along.'
`Oh Ok,' Luna said wearing an astonished look as if she understood language for the first time, `Thanks.' And she left, not even asking who had called for her. As soon as she left the compartment, Hermione swept into the seat next to Harry and beckoned Crookshanks to sit on her lap.
`I didn't hear anyone call for Luna. Anyway, what's so special about that seat?' Ron asked coolly.
`I like to see out the window,' Hermione said calmly, but her swift glance to Harry, when Ron's head was turned a few moments later, betrayed her motives. She smiled at him and rolled her eyes in Ron's direction. Harry gave a heavy sigh; this year was going to be tough.
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