Angst & Adoration by Moira Whipstaff
Chapter Notes: As I have said before, Harry Potter and his magical world all belong to J.K. Rowling, and I have no intention of claiming it as my own. I merely used it as my springboard. :)
The next few hours in the common room seemed to last for days as Harry sat in irritable silence between his positively seething friends. He had long since given up trying to force conversation between them, as doing so proved to be about as effective as determining whether or not Blast-Ended Skrewts had heads. (Ever since Hagrid’s class in his fourth year, when Hagrid had invited the students to prepare mounds of food for the repulsive beasts, Harry had been very suspicious that they hadn’t any.) Of course, both Ron and Hermione talked to Harry occasionally. Still, it was so painfully obvious that they were ignoring each other that nothing they said ended up being very important.
“Well, Harry,” Ron said loudly, “Whadya say we head down to lunch, eh?”
“Oh, Harry,” began Hermione, pretending she hadn’t heard Ron, “I almost forgot to ask you … erm … who is it Gryffindor’s competing against in tomorrow’s match?”
Harry sighed in exasperation, raking a hand through his unruly black hair.
“Are you two completely mental?”
Ron and Hermione both shifted sulkily, neither of them looking at Harry.
“Honestly,” Harry exclaimed, looking pointedly at each of them, “You’re acting like first years!”
“Hey!” squeaked a tiny first year as he glared at Harry from the depths of a giant, cushy armchair.
Harry ignored him and gathered up his books.
“See you later,” he said shortly as he strode off toward the other end of the common room.
“Well, nice going, Hermione,” Ron muttered a moment later.
“Me?” she hissed incredulously, “You’re the one who’s got himself all worked up about a stupid quill!”
“A quill? You really think that’s what this is all about, do you?” Ron asked, turning to face her for the first time.
“Or perhaps it’s the boy who borrowed it?” Hermione said coolly, looking determinedly back at him. Ron colored slightly.
“Or maybe this is about you thinking you’re better than everyone else and not caring what anyone else thinks, even if they’re your friends!” he shot back.
For a long moment, Hermione simply stared at him. “You honestly believe that I think myself better than everyone else?” she demanded in a slightly unsteady voice.
“Well why else would you choose not to listen to one of your best friends?” Ron replied angrily, ignoring the fact that Hermione now looked close to tears. “You know, it was right good luck that Harry was with me when I was poisoned because I doubt you would have cared enough to help.”
It was clear from Ron’s expression that he had regretted these words the moment they left his mouth. Hermione was no longer on the verge of tears - positively beside herself, she had dissolved into a fit of crying. All around them, students began to look up, pointing and whispering excitedly. Ron lunged forward, desperate to take back his words.
“Hermione, I didn’t ““
But his voice caught in his throat as she stood, trembling, and looked him straight in the eyes. What Ron saw there was not the livid anger that he had expected, but instead, a montage of anguished disappointment that turned his insides to ice. Before he could call her back, Hermione had fled from the common room, her sobs echoing all the way up the stairs to the dormitories.
Ron swore loudly, then turned to see Harry halted halfway through the portrait hole. He seemed to be seriously reconsidering his decision to come back so soon. Ron sank dejectedly into an armchair, nearly sitting on a second “ year girl who squealed and leapt out of the way. Meanwhile, the door to the portrait hole was bumping impatiently against Harry’s legs as the Fat Lady muttered something about “no respect” and “things to do.” He sighed resignedly and climbed the rest of the way into the common room.
After depriving the same second-year of yet another seat, Harry plopped down next to Ron. They sat in silence, watching the flames in the fireplace as they fervently devoured the kindling. Even with the firelight playing across his face, Harry noticed that Ron had turned slightly green.
“Do I even want to know what just happened?” Harry asked quietly, still staring into the fire.
Ron gave him a heavy sidelong glance before lurching forward, having just received a rather sound cuffing to the back of the head. Both boys whipped around in their chairs to find Ginny towering over Ron, her eyes blazing.
“What the bloody hell was that for??!!” Ron demanded angrily, massaging his neck.
“For being a right foul git, that’s what!” Ginny spat, then rounded on Harry. “And you! How could you just let him talk to her like that?!”
“I didn’t. I wasn’t there,” Harry said quickly, feeling his face heat up under her glare. “I don’t even know what he said.”
Ron gave a guilty squirm next to him. Both Harry and Ginny turned to look at him expectantly.
“Well?!” Ginny demanded.
“Well, I expect she’s already told you, hasn’t she?” Ron snapped.
“Yeah, and now you’re going to tell Harry,” said Ginny as though she was speaking to a five-year-old.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Ron retorted.
“Fine, then I’ll tell him myself!”
“Make it up’s more like it!”
Ginny gave him another hearty smack in the back of the head.
“Look, it doesn’t matter what he said,” Harry practically shouted. “Obviously it was enough to upset Hermione!”
“Upset her? I have half a mind to take her to the hospital wing on account of her eyes being swollen shut!” Ginny exclaimed.
Harry stared at Ron, who had made a rapid transition from green to magenta and was beginning to look rather panicked.
“What should I do?” he asked in a very small, desperate voice.
This seemed to soften Ginny quite a bit, as she shook her head and perched on the edge of a low table.
“You’d best go talk to her, mate,” said Harry.
“And say what?” asked Ron, “Oh, I’m terribly sorry but I seemed to have gone temporarily insane. I do hope we can still be friends!”
Rather than being irritated, however, Harry and Ginny seemed to be seriously considering his sarcastic proposal. Realizing this, Ron scowled at the pair of them.
“Oh, come off it!” he huffed, “I’m not even allowed in the girls’ dormitory!”
“Since when have you ever followed rules?” countered Ginny.
Ron opened and closed his mouth, clearly searching for an intelligent argument. Meanwhile, Harry had jumped up from his chair and disappeared up the stairs to the dormitories.
“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, half-raising himself out of his chair and panicking more than ever. “I didn’t want him to talk to her!”
“Calm down,” said Ginny, shoved her brother back into his chair, “Hermione isn’t in the boys’ dormitory.”
“Oh, right, right,” Ron muttered absently, picking at a stray end of his sweater.
Harry reappeared a moment later carrying a silvery bundle. He dumped it unceremoniously into Ron’s lap before sitting on Ginny. Apparently, she had filled his seat upon his absence.
“Ouch!” she yelped as Harry vaulted back out of the chair, blushing scarlet.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Ron was staring at the shimmering heap in his lap with a look of utter astonishment on his face.
“Harry,” he said, eyes wide, “You don’t honestly want me to ““
“Yes, Ron, I really think you need to go up there and apologize to Hermione once and for all,” said Harry, who was still recovering from his latest humiliation.
“But why do I need-“
“Ron, use your head,” Ginny interrupted. “The Invisibility Cloak will keep you from getting caught, and now you have no excuse so get on with it!”
Ron swallowed with difficulty, eyeing the cloak miserably. Then, slowly, his fingers closed around the bundle and he lifted himself gingerly out of his chair. Ginny and Harry watched as he warily made his way to the stairs, completely absorbed in his own thoughts of imminent doom and destruction.