Time for a Change: Quidditch Blues

Time for a Change
Chapter Five
By: Lori Finnegan
2006

 

Hermione and Draco rushed onto the Quidditch field just as the Gryffindor team was finishing tryouts. Next was Slytherin, and Draco had mentioned about five times on their way there how much he abhorred being late.

 

“Good!” he grinned when he saw the red and gold colors flying high and fast on their brooms above his head. “I’m just in time.”

 

Hermione looked up and spotted Harry and Ron flying among the others and hoped all was well between them.

 

“Are you paying attention to me?” Draco wanted to know, tapping her shoulder lightly with the end of his broom until she looked at him. “How do you like the new uniforms my father bought for our team?”

 

Hermione looked him over from his black boots to his green robes and smiled. “They look great,” she said honestly, “and expensive.”

 

“Nothing but the best for our team,” Draco added, smoothing down the creases on his shirt and once again reminding Hermione of the part of Draco’s personality that she despised.

 

“Who are you showing off for, anyway?” she wanted to know, her hands on her hips.

 

Her statement caught him off guard, and he looked up at her, his mouth open. “What do you mean, Pans?” he asked. “I’m not showing off for anyone. It’s just important that the best team looks the best, that’s all.”

 

“Whatever,” she said, turning slightly away to look at the Gryffindor players flying above them. No matter what she said to Draco, there wasn’t any way he’d see where she was coming from. He was the type of wizard who didn’t change his mind about anything unless the truth hit him right in the face. And even then it was a gamble. “Forget I said anything,” she said, glancing back at him. “The new uniforms look great.”

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I think. Hey, Pans, is everything okay?”

 

“What do you mean?” she said, turning to face him once again.

 

“You just seem… different sometimes. You sure you don’t want to talk about anything?”

 

“I’m sure,” she answered. “And if you don’t get into the changing room with your teammates, they’re going to wonder where you are, Mr. Captain.” She winked at him, and he grinned widely.

 

“You’re right!” he said, dashing off towards the rest of the team. “See you in the stands!”

_______________________________________________________________________

 “Since when does a second year make the team over a sixth year!?” Ron fumed as Pansy chased him down the hallway, his robes bellowing behind him.

 

 

“Ron, don’t take it so hard,” she said, trying to calm him down so he would tell her what was going on between him and Harry instead of having to listen to him go on and on about Quidditch. “It’s just a stupid game, anyway!”

 

Ron stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face her. “A stupid game?” he asked, almost breathlessly, as if trying to convince himself that she had actually called Quidditch stupid. “Quidditch is not a stupid game, Hermione. It is the best game in the world!”

 

Pansy suddenly had no interest in chasing him. Anyone who thought that much of a ball game had to have some sort of a screw loose somewhere. “Okay,” she said, putting her hands up slightly. “So it’s not stupid. But it’s not like your life is over just because you didn’t make the team. There’s always next year, right?”

 

Ron’s face turned a deep shade of red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t, and then turned around and continued his stalk towards the Gryffindor dormitories.

 

“Ron, wait!” Pansy called after him as she ran to catch up. “I didn’t mean to upset you!”

 

She followed him until they were both in the Gryffindor Common Room and then stepped right in front of the staircase to the boys’ dormitories so that he couldn’t get by her. “Quit being such a jerk, Ron, and sit down and talk to me.”

 

The frown on Ron’s red face did not fade. “Step aside, Hermione,” he said. “I don’t like to push girls.”

 

“Oh, quit it,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of you and Harry acting like you don’t even want to look at each other. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

 

He stared at her.

 

“Now!” she clarified. “Go on!”

 

Ron gave an aggravated sigh and went to sit on a couch near the back of the room and underneath the staircase. “What is it,” he demanded. “You better make this short.”

 

“I don’t know what right you have to speak to me with that tone,” Pansy said, sitting on the chair opposite from him. “But you better tell me right now why you’re so angry and Harry is so quiet. I know bloody well you know what’s going on, Ron, so don’t play dumb with me!”

 

Ron propped his head up on the palm of his hand and glanced out at the purple sky. “To be honest with you, Hermione, I swore Harry I wouldn’t tell anyone about it, so there’s no way I can tell you.”

 

Pansy glared at him as he stared out the window. This just figured. “What in the world is going on that you guys can’t tell me about? You know how this feels to me, Ron?” She decided to play the guilt card. “When my two best friends can’t confide in me? It makes me feel very left out, that’s what.”

 

“Gee, I’m sorry, Hermione,” Ron groaned as he turned away from the window to look at her. “But you just gotta trust me on this one. We’re not trying to leave you out, I swear. It’s just best that you’re not involved. It’ll only make things more complicated than they already are.”

 

Pansy folded her arms over her chest. “Well, excuse me for being concerned about and wanting to help my friends. Next time I won’t even bother.”

 

“Aw, Hermione, don’t say that,” Ron begged. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad and neither does Harry. You just have to trust us, okay?”

 

Pansy stood up, deciding to play hard to get. “Fine,” she agreed, “but don’t expect me to come to you when I have problems of my own,” she said, stalking away and walking down the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, where she knew he wouldn’t dare follow. When Hermione had asked Pansy to figure out what was going on with her two best friends, she really had no idea what she was asking.

_________________________________________________________________________

When Draco and Hermione walked into the Great Hall for dinner, the whole Slytherin table cheered and began chanting Draco’s name. Earlier that afternoon, Hermione had watched him soar around on his broom from the Slytherin stands. Draco had caught the snitch so quickly, that the rest of the team and most of the crowd, on the Slytherin side at least, had given him a standing ovation. Hermione wasn’t sure Draco’s already bloated head could take the extra confidence. She feared he may explode.

 

 

“Thank you, thank you,” Draco said, giving the table a wave as he and Hermione sat down across from Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise Zabini.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to fill her plate with the different sorts of delicacies that lined the table. This was just what she needed. Just when she was beginning to see the other kind side of Draco and had imagined her stay with the Slytherins as bearable, Quidditch had to start and ruin it for her.

 

“That was some show out there, Draco,” Blaise said as he scooped a creamy soup into his bowl. “You caught the snitch even before the others got a chance to show off their skills.”

 

“It wasn’t that quickly,” Draco replied.

 

Hermione couldn’t believe that he was trying to be modest.

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Blaise exclaimed. “I was timing it from the stands! You caught that snitch in less than forty seconds!”

 

Draco took a bite of his roll and washed it down with some milk. “I guess it was sort of fast, wasn’t it,” he admitted.

 

This conversation went on for about ten minutes until Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore and stood up from the bench, stepping over it. It was almost six o’clock and time to meet Pansy anyway. “I’ve got some homework to get started on,” she announced. “I’ll see you guys later.”

_______________________________________________________________________

This time it was Pansy who arrived at their table to find Hermione waiting patiently for her.

 

 

“I arrived early,” she explained as Pansy sat down. “Your friends were giving me a headache at dinner tonight.”

 

Pansy laughed at her and then stopped abruptly. “My friends are giving you a headache?” she asked. “Your friends are absolutely horrid! You know that neither Harry nor Ron will give me the slightest clue as to what’s going on? Both of them are completely stubborn!”

 

Hermione folded her arms. “You didn’t have to tell me that. I know they’re stubborn.”

 

“Well, then, why didn’t you warn me about exactly how stubborn they are? I seriously think Ron hates you now!”

 

“What did you do?” Hermione demanded, her hands on the table in front of herself.

 

Pansy sighed, propping up her head on the palm of her hand. “Ron was all upset over not making the Quidditch team, and I suppose it wasn’t the best time for me to bring it up… but after Harry wouldn’t give me one clue about what was happening, I didn’t have any other choice but to go to Ron. So I asked him, and he was not pleased, if you can imagine.”

 

“Oh, I can imagine,” Hermione assured Pansy. “Trust me, I can.”

 

Pansy looked over at her. “So yeah, I laid the guilt trip on him. I told him that the next time something was bothering me I would most certainly not be telling him. Then I ran off to your room.”

 

“Oh, he doesn’t hate you,” Hermione brushed her off. “You actually did quite well, if I do say so myself. Perhaps Ron might come to you later on. You know, after he cools off about the whole Quidditch thing,” she pondered, “which may be a while.”

 

Pansy sighed. “Your friends are incredibly impossible,” she stated. “And I can’t wait to be back to being myself. Your life is absolutely exhausting, Hermione.”

 

Hermione matched her sigh. “Tell me about it,” she muttered. No matter whose shoes she was in, perhaps she was destined to bring trouble to wherever she went.

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

Draco felt like he was on top of the world that evening as he returned from dinner, a group of Slytherins following behind him. Everyone was excited for a great Quidditch season that year, and it was wonderful to see results such as Draco’s miraculous catch earlier that day.

 

 

They all entered the Slytherin Common Room with loud cheers and excited chatter. Someone brought out some bottles of butterbeer and started passing them out. Draco was about to take a swig of the sweet liquid when he noticed Pansy sitting at the end of the room with her nose buried in a book. He set the bottle down on a table and walked over to her.

 

“Something wrong?” he wanted to know. “You’re not participating in the pre-season party.”

 

Pansy didn’t even bother to lower her book to look at him. “I told you, I have a lot of homework tonight,” she said.

 

He sat down next to her on the couch and put his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, Pans,” he begged. “A party isn’t a party without you.”

 

“So you say,” she said, leaning away from him and continuing to read her book.

 

“Aw, Pans, don’t be such a party pooper.” He leaned into her, wrapping one arm around her waist and snatching the book with his other hand. When she tried to reach for it, he held her firmly so that she couldn’t even get near it.

 

“I’m about to hit you in the nose, Draco Malfoy,” she growled, but he just laughed at her. Pansy’s new studious attitude intrigued him.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he grinned at her.

 

She balled her fist and drew back as though she were seriously going to hit him. He dropped her book on the cushion beside himself and grabbed her wrist, laughing.

 

“Oh, come now,” he mumbled, their noses almost touching. “You certainly couldn’t harm my perfect cheek bones, now could you?”

 

Pansy laughed out loud and shoved him away. “Oh, please, Draco,” she said, reaching behind him for her book. “You think the world of yourself, don’t you?”

 

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down his pointy nose at her. “Why, of course. I am perfect, you know.”

 

Pansy gave him one last shove. “Tell me about it,” she groaned.

 

“Playing footsie in the corner?” Blaise Zabini said as he approached them. “My, my, Draco.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Draco said, standing up from his seat on the couch. “I was just trying to save a party pooper, that’s all. C’mon, Pans,” he said, grabbing the unopened bottle of butter beer from Blaise’s right hand and holding it out to Pansy. “And join me in the festivities.”

 

Pansy snatched the bottle from Draco’s hand and stood up. “Only if you’re nice,” she grinned, popping the top off the bottle. “And you find some how to deflate that balloon head of yours, that is,” she muttered.

 

Draco’s eyes widened and then narrowed at her. “Balloon head?” he demanded as several Slytherins behind him began laughing. “I am not a balloon head!” he fumed.

________________________________________________________________________

 

Harry had just gotten back from the team’s first Quidditch practice that evening. He opened the door to his dormitory and plopped his Quidditch gear down next to his trunk. The curtains around Ron’s bed were pulled, but Harry knew he couldn’t be sleeping. For one, it was much too early, and for another thing, Harry knew his friend didn’t have an easy time sleeping when he was angry.

 

 

Harry put his things into his trunk and changed into his pajamas. After tryouts, Ron had stormed off so quickly, that Harry, being still in the sky, hadn’t gotten a chance to say a single word to him. Even though they weren’t exactly on the best of terms currently, Harry still felt bad that Ron hadn’t made the team. He knew how much Quidditch meant to Ron, after all.

 

Feeling sorry for his friend, Harry walked over to Ron’s four poster bed, and stood there in front of it. “Hey, Ron,” he said. “It’s me. Harry. Can we talk?”

 

He stood there for a moment, waiting for a response. And when he realized he wasn’t going to get one, he opened Ron’s curtain on his own and looked down at his friend, who was lying on his back, still half dressed in his Quidditch gear, and staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his back.

 

“What is it, Harry?” he muttered. “Come to rub it in?”

 

“Rub what in, Ron?” Harry demanded. “Have you forgotten that I’m your friend?”

 

Ron turned away from him resting his head on his arm. “No,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m just asking for some time alone. Is that okay with you?”

 

“It’s fine with me,” Harry replied. “I just wanted to say that I wish you were on the team, and I’m sorry you didn’t make it.”

 

“Sure,” Ron mumbled.

 

Harry stood for another moment, staring at his friend’s back, and then closed the curtains. Ron would be okay, he surmised. This was something he’d eventually get over. Harry went back to his own bed and took out his picture book. He flipped through the pages until he came to one in particular.

 

There in the center of the page was an animated picture of himself, Ron and Hermione, their arms around each other and waving at the camera at the end of their fifth year. He wished that he could somehow get that Harry back… but he knew it was impossible. His thoughts and feelings were forever changed.

________________________________________________________________________

 

Pansy entered the Gryffindor Common Room after a few hours in the library working on her homework. She stepped inside the room and saw Ginny Weasley sitting in the middle of a couch, her homework spread over the coffee table.

 

 

“Your brother is a real piece of work,” Pansy said when Ginny looked up at her. “You know that, right?”

 

Ginny looked back down at her books. “Of course I know that,” she said. “I did grow up with him, after all.”

 

“Right,” Pansy said, flopping down on a chair besides the couch. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to return to her dormitory and listen to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil talk about their latest crushes like they had until midnight the night before. “Anyway,” she said, “I tried to figure out what Ron was angry about, and he wouldn’t give me one hint except that he had promised Harry he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

 

Ginny put down her quill and looked over at Pansy. “What’s this with boys keeping secrets? It’s just not right!”

 

Pansy sighed and leaned back into the cozy chair. “Tell me about it,” she groaned.

 

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Ginny comforted. “I know all of the little tricks to get inside Ron’s tiny little skull. I’ll figure it out, and you’ll be the first one I’ll tell!”

 

“Thanks, Ginny,” Pansy said, and she really was grateful. At least someone in the Gryffindor house seemed to be on her side. Maybe they could all get past this little secret and live the next two weeks out in peace. Though somehow she highly doubted it. “And good luck to you,” she added. “You’ll need it.”

__________________________________________________________________________

 

 At ten o’clock, Hermione had finally escaped an oddly entertaining Slytherin house party and returned to her dormitory for some last minute studying before the night was over. She had showered, put on Pansy’s prettiest nightgown and sat on the bed with her homework.

 

 

It was then that there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she said, knowing that it was most likely Draco.

 

The door opened and Hermione was shocked to see Blaise Zabini standing there with his hand on the door knob. “Hi, Pansy,” he said, closing the door behind them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be dressed for bed already…”

 

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, sure that she was blushing slightly. “Is everything alright?”

 

Blaise sat down on the chair besides the bed and handed her a scroll. “It’s just my Transfiguration essay. Draco said that you helped him with his, so I was wondering if you’d take a look at mine. It’s almost done, but I could use a few pointers.” He paused while she unraveled the scroll. “Do you mind?”

 

“Not at all,” she said, giving him a small smile. “But I have to finish some things up of my own right now. Is it okay if I give it back to you in the morning?”

 

Blaise smiled back. “Sure,” he said. “Geez, I’m glad I came. Draco said that you would never help anyone besides him, but I was sure glad he was wrong.”

 

Hermione stared at him. Was this true? Had she somehow stepped over a line? “It’s really no big deal,” she told Blaise. “Besides, looking over an essay is completely different than what I did for Draco. I’m sure he won’t be jealous.”

 

“Thanks a lot,” Blaise said, jumping up and moving toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Pansy!”

 

“Bye,” Hermione waved as he closed the door, and she was once again alone in Pansy’s room. She hoped Draco wouldn’t become suspicious of her just because she told Blaise she’d help him with his essay.

_________________________________________________________________________

Ginny Weasley pulled a brush through her crimson locks and looked at herself thoughtfully in the mirror. She had spend the morning thinking about how to get Ron to spill his guts, and she was finally ready, she decided, as she set her brush back down on her dresser and pulled her hair up into a pony tail.

 

 

“I’ll know his secret,” she muttered as she closed the dormitory door behind herself. “There’s no way I can fail when it comes to manipulating my own brother.”

________________________________________________________________________

 

Ron was walking down the hall on his way to Herbology when he was suddenly attacked and shoved to his left. He just narrowly missed the wall, and went stumbling out a door and onto the grass as he regained his balance.

 

 

“Ginny!” he exclaimed, looking up to see his sister standing in the doorway. “Just what in bloody hell do you think you’re doing, shoving me around like that?”

 

Ginny walked down the slight slope of grass to meet him. “I’m sorry, Ron, but you’ve been such a git lately, you deserve it.”

 

Ron looked down at her red head and glared. “Excuse me?” he demanded. “And what exactly have I been a git about?”

 

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed. “You know, she came to me upset about how you and Harry were keeping secrets from her. You’ve really left her out, Ron.”

 

“Ugh,” Ron groaned. “If you even knew what this was about, you’d just mind your own business, Ginny.”

 

“Hermione is my friend, too,” Ginny let him know. “And you and Harry are giving her the run around! She cares for you, and I can’t believe you won’t even let her in!”

 

Ron tried to get around Ginny so that he could continue on his way to Herbology class, but Ginny stood in the doorway with her hands on each side so that he couldn’t pass. “Ginny, get out of the way,” Ron said. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Are you completely dense, Ronald Weasley?” Ginny said, not budging. “You’ve hurt Hermione’s feelings. Now what are you going to do about it?” When Ron didn’t say anything, she went on. “Fine. If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, then go on and tell Hermione. She deserves that much.”

 

“I can’t tell her, Ginny, I swear I can’t!” Ron protested, moving back and forth in front of her, trying to squeeze by somehow, but failing miserably. “If you knew what this was about then you would agree with me.”

 

“Then tell me,” Ginny demanded.

 

“No way! Now move aside, Ginny, or I’m going to be late for Herbology!”

 

Ginny sighed. “Fine,” she relented. “Don’t tell me. But when you end up losing Hermione over it, don’t blame me.” And she turned around, stalking back through the doorway and into the halls.

 

Ron stood there in the doorway, staring at her back as she walked. Ginny couldn’t possibly be right about Hermione, could he? Would Hermione actually discontinue their friendship if she didn’t know about this secret of Harry’s?

 

But then again, if he told Hermione, Harry would definitely hate him forever. He didn’t know what to do and whose friendship he should value more.

 

Head spinning, he walked silently to his Herbology class.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

Hermione had arrived early, as usual, to her Transfiguration class with Professor McGonagall, and she sat on the Slytherin side of the room, which was not usual.

 

 

Draco slid in next to her after about five minutes and slapped his scroll on the table. “All ready to turn in your assignment?” he wanted to know, grinning at her.

 

“Of course,” she smiled back. “And you better be ready to turn yours in, or else.” She balled her fist to threaten him.

 

“Of course,” he echoed. “You did put the finishing touches on it, after all.”

 

“This is true,” she agreed, pulling the scroll out of her backpack that Pansy had handed her after breakfast that morning. “And I’m sure you’ll get an A on it.”

 

“I’m not so sure,” Draco disagreed, leaning back in his wooden chair with his hands behind his head. “I mean, your parts of it are great, but I think it’s still lacking a little. I should have worked on it last night, but I stayed up a little too late in the common room.”

 

“Figures,” Hermione rolled her eyes at him and took her quill and ink out of her bag just as Pansy walked in with Harry right behind her. Hermione looked over at them from the corner of her eye as they took their seats on the other side of the room. She silently wondered where Ron was and why he wasn’t with them.

 

“Look at those two,” Draco whispered into her ear, almost making her jump right out of her seat. “They think they’re so special sitting in the first row all the time.”

 

Hermione turned to him to glare. “What if they just want to learn?” she hissed back at him. “Geez, Draco, what right do you have to assume things like that about people you barely know?”

 

Draco leaned away from her. “What’s with you?” he whispered so that the others wouldn’t hear him. “It’s like you’re suddenly Harry Potter’s number one fan or something. You don’t have a little crush on him… or do you?”

 

Hermione turned away from him and folded her arms over her chest. “Of course not,” she whispered back. “I just think it’s rude how you treat other people when you really have no idea what they’re going through.”

 

“And you do?” Draco demanded.

 

“No, but I don’t assume,” she stated. “And neither should you.”

 

Draco turned away from her, pouting. “You are no fun, Pans,” he muttered. “You know that, don’t you? What fun is making fun of Potter and friends if you won’t let me… well, make fun of them?”

 

Hermione doodled a flower at the corner of her notebook. “Find something else to do to pass your time,” she suggested.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Draco scoffed. “I’ll just go plant flowers with Longbottom.”

 

“Ha, ha,” Hermione laughed sarcastically, glancing over just as Neville took his seat behind Harry and Pansy. “You’re so funny, Draco.”

 

“Of course I am,” Draco said as he puffed his chest out. “I have all of the best qualities. It’s what makes me a Malfoy, of course.”

 

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. Even though his head was bloated there was a certain charm about his smirk. That and every time his fat head took over it almost sounded like he was making fun of himself.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

 As Professor McGonagall started her lecture, Harry poked Hermione’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “Have you seen Ron lately? It’s sort of odd that he’s not in class yet.”

 

 

“Isn’t he usually running late?” Hermione whispered back.

 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he agreed, leaning away from his friend. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He had barely spoken to Ron all morning, Ron hadn’t shown up for lunch in the Great Hall, and now he was missing from class.

 

He kept checking the door all throughout the class but every person who walked by was not Ron Weasley.

 

After they turned in their essays, Harry quickly told Hermione he’d see her in Potions, grabbed his things and rushed out of the room to find Ron. He first checked the Common Room and then his dormitory, but Ron was nowhere to be found. He ran down the stairs, past a couple of younger Gryffindors playing chess and flew out the through the door. He rushed to the library, thinking Ron had gone where he didn’t think he’d be found, but Ron wasn’t there either.

 

Harry ran all over the castle, ignoring those who called out at him, those who were wondering where he was going in such a hurry, and Professor Snape, who reminded him that class started in five minutes, and he had better get a move on or he was going to be late. He ignored them all until finally he arrived on the balcony of the north towers, and he stopped, trying to catch his breath.

 

In front of him stood Ron, and he hadn’t noticed Harry’s presence.

 

“Ron,” Harry said breathlessly, watching as his friend turned around to look at him.

 

Ron turned around to see Harry standing at the arch that led to the highest balcony in the castle. He was leaning against the concrete, breathing heavily. Ron was sure he had ran up every flight of stairs without once stopping.

 

“What is it?” he asked, turning back around to look out at the afternoon sky.

 

“You missed Transfiguration class,” he heard Harry say. “I was worried, so I came looking for you.”

 

“Well, I’m fine, so you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing,” Ron replied.

 

“I see that you’re fine,” Harry said, walking up besides him and leaning his arms against the railing. “But did you forget that your essay was due? McGonagall is going to mark off ten points just for it being late.”

 

“Whatever,” Ron mumbled. “I needed a break. I needed to think.”

 

“About what?” Harry inquired.

 

“Stuff,” Ron replied, quickly glancing over at him. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you.”

 

Harry looked at him, wide eyed. “Um, okay,” he said.

 

Ron sighed, leaning further over the railing and looking down at the fading scenery below the clouds. “This whole thing is driving me nuts, Harry,” he said. “Yesterday Hermione demanded to know what was going on and what we were keeping from her, so I told her that I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone. Then this morning, Ginny practically knocks me over to say that I better choose whose friendship is more important to me because she thinks I’m being completely unreasonable about not telling Hermione.” He took a deep breath and stood up straight, facing Harry. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Harry?”

 

Harry stood up straight as well. “Well, you certainly can’t tell her!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry, but… you just can’t!”

 

“I know!” he yelled back. “Why do you think I’m up here tormenting myself over it!?”

 

Harry didn’t reply, so Ron took a few steps back to the railing.

 

“If you ask me,” Ron said in a much quieter voice. “Ginny’s overreacting about Hermione. I don’t think she’s all that upset about it.”

 

“She didn’t seem upset,” Harry added in. “Not when she talked to me, anyway. She did seem concerned, though.”

 

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “But what am I supposed to say to her?”

 

He heard Harry sigh behind them, and the two of them were silent for a few moments as the wind blew past them, turning their ears red and blowing their hair into their faces.

 

“Hey, I have an idea,” Harry said, grabbing Ron’s sweater so that he turned to face him. “What if we make up something else? Like, a different secret. Then you can tell that secret to Hermione, and she’ll never know about the real one.”

 

Ron stared at him for a short moment. “I don’t know, Harry. That seems a little underhanded. Especially for you.”

 

“I’m not the one who’ll be lying though,” Harry replied. “It’s all believable, really.”

 

“So, I’m the bad guy,” Ron clarified for him. “I don’t think so.”

 

Harry held up his hands. “I’m just trying to help you out here, mate.”

 

Ron gave him a half smile and then turned back around to the view. “I think I’ll pass,” he said. “But thanks, Harry, really.”

 

“Anything,” Harry replied. “But don’t think you can just stand out here forever. Potions started fifteen minutes ago and Snape is going to kill us when we walk in late.”

 

“Oh, hell,” Ron said, picking up his backpack from the ground and following Harry down the many stairs.