Harry Potter and the Pink Elephant

Interlude--In Which Ron Finds Out

Harry trudged into the Gryffindor common room, exhausted from Quidditch practice. He pushed the team hard every time, so he was used to the work, but the terrible weather had only served to worsen the team spirit. The rain was coming down so hard Harry could hardly see right in front of him, much less the Snitch, people were slipping off their brooms and none of the Chasers could get a handle on the wet Quaffle. It had been a terrible practice and Harry had finally called and end to it when it became clear just how useless it was.

He looked around the room as he headed to the dorm, noting with some relief that Hermione was not present. It had become increasingly difficult to avoid her, especially once she noticed his withdrawal and seemed to go out of her way to seek him out. Ron had started to notice his girlfriend's increasing preoccupation with her other friend and would have questioned why Harry seemed to shun her except that Harry had taken to avoiding Ron as well. Considering the number of classes the three of them shared, and the fact that he shared a room with Ron, this was no easy task, but Harry was grimly determined to succeed. The less he saw of Hermione, the less in love with her he would be, he figured, and the less he saw of Ron, the less his heart would ache with the betrayal he felt when he knew he would always love Hermione.

Harry scowled as he stomped up the stairs, wondering why he was thinking such things. There were more important things to concern himself with, like Quidditch or classes or, you know, that thing with Voldemort trying to kill him every year. He pushed open the door to his room, trying to imagine all the ways Voldemort would try to get to him this year, when he noticed Ron sitting cross-legged on his bed...Harry squinted. Was Ron actually reading Hogwarts, A History? Honestly, Voldemort must be losing his touch in his old age, using a Polyjuice Potion on one of his Death Eaters and turning them into Ron. Ron would never read that book.

"Hullo, Harry," Ron said, snapping the book shut, the sound very loud in the empty room. "You and I are going to have a little talk." He paused, sniffing the air. "After you shower, though."

Harry looked at him, too surprised to remember his avoidance techniques. "We're going to talk? About what?"

Ron gazed back at him calmly. "About Hermione."

Harry flinched at that and stared at Ron a bit fearfully. Hermione? Why the bloody hell would he want to talk about Hermione? As Ron pointed towards the showers and Harry slowly walked there (what was he doing? Run away!), he cast his mind back, frantically searching for some sign, beside the whole avoidance issue, that would prompt Ron to think about talking about her to him. As he stood under the hot water, Harry decided that there had been nothing to give him away. He had given no sign, no clue, whatsoever. Ron just wanted to talk to him about getting Hermione a present or where to treat her to a nice dinner or how to tell her that he loved her. Harry wondered if it was really possible to drown oneself in the shower. He heard someone banging on the door.

"If you don't hurry up, Harry, I'm coming in and we'll have our discussion there," Ron yelled.

Harry quickly turned off the shower, concluding that the shower was not the best place to hold a meeting about Hermione. He pulled on some clothes and padded into the dorm where Ron was looking out the window, leaning against the windowsill.

"So, when did you fall in love with Hermione?" Ron asked casually.

Harry froze. "What?" he asked sharply.

Ron glanced back at him. "When did you fall in love with Hermione?" he repeated.

Harry's mind was awhirl. How did Ron know, what was he supposed to say, did Hermione know? The questions chased themselves around in his mind, paralyzing him, until he saw that Ron was waiting for a response. "I'm not," he finally croaked.

Ron had a faintly reproachful look on his face. "Harry, you're in Gryffindor, not Slytherin. You couldn't lie to save your life. Well, except for that thing first year. Your cunning plan to completely avoid Hermione and me was just short of blindingly obvious."

Harry gaped at him. Well, maybe he should employ Malfoy's help on this then, he thought wildly. Maybe he should talk to Malfoy about some strategies for Voldemort.

"I'm not, really," he insisted.

"Despite what Malfoy may say," Ron said quietly, "I'm not stupid. When you can't avoid us, I see how you look at her. It's just a quick flash, when you first see her, but it's there."

"Quidditch match, three months ago," Harry heard himself say. Shut up, shut up, shut UP, a voice in his mind shrieked. What was wrong with him?

Ron looked a little surprised that Harry had actually admitted it so quickly and calmly, but then nodded slightly. "Yeah, that fits in. Started avoiding her after that, and me not long after."

"Does she know?" Harry asked. No, of course not, he answered himself. Otherwise she would get that hurt look in her eyes when she saw him. It would just be pity instead.

Ron shook his head. "No, she thinks she did something wrong or You-Know-Who has done something to you or is planning to. About any number of possibilities has crossed her mind. But not that you're in love with her."

Harry sighed in relief, thanking the gods for small mercies. "Look, tell her I'm okay, alright? Tell her--"

"I'm not telling her anything," Ron interrupted firmly. "You are. In fact, you're going to show her everything's okay. You're going to Hogsmeade with her. Right now."

Harry looked at him blankly, hardly believing what he just heard. "You're setting me up with her? Are you mad? Have you gone completely bonkers?"

Ron frowned. "What?"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" he asked, almost shouting. "I love her! I love Hermione!" Now he was shouting. "Your girlfriend! One of my best friends! What if I snap? Just lose control and snog her senseless?"

"Well, I imagine Hermione would hex you into next week if you tried and then I would stomp you to little bits," Ron replied irritably. "Why are you making such a big deal about this?"

"I. Love. Her," Harry hissed. "And she's my best friend, and you are too, but she's your girlfriend. Why aren't you angry over this?"

"Because despite your actions over the past few months," Ron said, his voice rising slightly, "I'd like to think that you are still my best friend and even if you weren't, you were, and I think I know you well enough, and for some unknowable reason at this point, trust you enough to not to make a move on her! Besides the fact that I trust Hermione and I don't think she'll do anything either!"

Harry just looked at him in shock, wondering what he had done to deserve a friend like Ron. He had just admitted that he loved his girlfriend and Ron said he trusted him? "Why aren't you angry, Ron?" he asked again.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and chuckled mirthlessly. "Maybe I've turned a new leaf. Or maybe I'm just so bloody livid and furious over this that it's fractured my personality because I can't deal with it. Or maybe I'm turning into Percy."

Harry actually managed a small smile. "Perish the thought."

Ron returned the smile, but then frowned. "Look, just go, alright? I'm doing this as much for her as for myself. Now that I've actually heard you say," he took a deep breath, "that, I need to sort things out. By myself. Just don't be surprised if I meet you coming back at the door and challenge you to a duel."

Harry smiled a bit more. "You're a terrible dueler, Ron."

Ron shook his head. "Who said anything about a wizarding duel? Maybe it'll be one of those...what did Hermione call them...oh, right, mano a mano. Bare knuckles and all that."

"I've played Quidditch for six years, Ron."

Ron grinned wolfishly. "And I have five older brothers. Two of them are named Fred and George."

Harry paused, considering. "Well, I suppose if one of us manages to win, the loser will have the comfort of knowing that Hermione will strangle the winner with her bare hands."

They both laughed a little at that, and then sobered. "Go," Ron said in a noticeably neutral voice. "She's probably back from the library by now."

Harry looked at Ron for a long moment, and then nodded. If Ron trusted him to do this, then he would. Even if it killed him. He left Ron standing by the window, and slowly went down the stairs to find Hermione sitting on the sofa, staring at the fire.

"Hey," he said softly, willing himself not to reach out and touch her.

She looked up, surprised. "Hello, Harry," she said softly. A wary look came into her eyes, like she was trying to figure out how to not scare him off. "Why...what...I mean, why--"

He ran a hand through his hair and cut her off. "Look, do you want to pop over to Hogsmeade for a bit? Head over to the Three Broomsticks for a bit? We can...talk."

"The weather is terrible, Harry."

Oh, God, this was awful. They were talking about the weather. He shrugged. "Well, it's not like I don't know any secret underground passages or anything."

She looked at him consideringly for a long time, long enough that Harry was terrified that she was just going walk away, which would be understandable given the way he had treated both her and Ron, but she finally nodded. "Alright," she said, quietly. "Just let me get my cloak."

So he waited patiently for her and tried not to suck in a breath when he saw her come down the stairs, looking so happy that she glowed. How was he going to do this, how could he be by her and not say something or do something or reach out and run a thumb over her cheek or better yet her lips?

"Harry, are we going to go?"

His gaze refocused on her and he smiled and nodded his head. Ron trusted him, Ron trusted him...

"Sorry, let's go." Hermione nodded and went out the portrait hole. Harry followed, careful not to touch her or stand too close or look too long or think about how desperately he loved her.

Looking back, Harry couldn't say how he survived, but he did. Walking through the school, down the passage and through Hogsmeade was torture at first, but Harry just kept thinking about Ron and his incredible show of trust. Hermione seemed determined to keep him around, and made sure the conversation was light. By the time they walked into the Three Broomsticks, they were laughing at some silly joke and by the end of the night, they had almost returned their friendship to the point before that cursed Quidditch match. They talked about all manner of subjects, from Quidditch to classes to Voldemort. Hermione never brought up his strange absence from their lives and Harry didn't offer.

So when they walked back through Hogsmeade, down the passage and through the school, Harry had a considerably lighter heart. As long as he didn't think about it too much, and was careful of what he said, he could be Hermione's friend. They said goodbye at the foot of the stairs, still a strange little stiffness in their speech and actions, and went to their rooms.

When Harry walked in, he was hit by something a little...off, in the room. He looked around, trying to figure out what was wrong. It came to him suddenly. The room was perfect. Nothing out of place. Normally, the boys' dorm was a disaster on a good day, but even when the house elves came through, the room wasn't this clean. It was like someone had made a terrible mess, but then cleaned everything up in hopes that no one would notice, but had gone too far. Even the windows sparkled.

Harry looked uneasily over at Ron's bed, but he was already asleep. Harry moved over to his own bed, then noticed something on one of the posters of his bed. He walked over to inspect in more closely. There was a hairline fracture that ran the complete length of the poster. And suddenly Harry knew that Ron had done this, knew that he did this with his fists, not magic, had ruined the rest of the room while he and Hermione were away at Hogsmeade, then tried to clean it up before they got back. Harry frowned. Then why not fix this? Why leave it?

Harry sucked in a breath. Ron wanted Harry to know. None of the other boys would notice how clean the room was or the crack in Harry's bed. Ron had indulged his temper in a truly spectacular way, and no one but he and Harry would know. He really had been furious with Harry. Harry wondered if his temper would still be around tomorrow, but doubted it. He knew somehow that whatever anger Ron had, he had expended it here, away from him and everyone else. But he had made sure that no one else would know, no one else would figure out that something had been dreadfully wrong the legendary Trio. And Harry was fine with that. He wouldn't talk about it, not with Ron, not with anyone else. As far as he was concerned, a cracked bedpost was a small price to pay for what he had done. He climbed into bed, and looked over in Ron's direction again.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Ron muttered.

Harry smiled. "No duels?" he asked lightly.

"Too tired. Need sleep. Have Potions exam tomorrow."

Harry groaned. He had forgotten all about that. He heard Ron chuckle. "Forgot about that, did you? Don't worry. We'll do okay. Always do."

Harry nodded, Ron's words warming him for some reason.

We'll do okay. Always do.