Two Sides to the Story

TWO SIDES TO THE STORY

CHAPTER ONE - HERMIONE THINKS

Hermione Granger walked down the corridor past the Charms classroom, tears blurring her sight. 'Why did I do that?' she thought. She knew it wasn't safe to patrol the corridors of the school alone at night. But how can she expect her partner to be there with her when she had just enclosed him in a full-body bubble charm that no seventh year can break? 'It's all his fault,' she screamed inside her head. Suddenly, she ground to a halt. What had their argument been about? 'Argh,' she thought, 'I can't even remember what we were screaming about just ten minutes ago. Stupid, stupid Ron! I can't take this anymore! I CANNOT be in love with him! I just can't be!' She was starting to feel better when another part of her brain screamed, 'Oh, why do I keep on denying it? I AM in love with him! I can't help it, I can't change it and I can't stop it. Can't he see I'm going out of my mind because of him? Well, of course not, he's stupid, isn't he?'

She sighed. Ronald Weasley can take apart an opposing Quidditch team's strategy within two minutes into a game, anticipate even Dumbledore's next ten moves on the chessboard depending on the opening gambit, yet he couldn't see that she was hopelessly in love with him. Which was just as well, she reminded herself. What if he made fun of her for being mad about him? But then again, how could she not be mad about him? He was... Ron. That was all he needed to be for her to feel as though a cage full of Cornish pixies lived inside her whenever he was near.

'He's a prat,' she spat. A great, stupid, bloody prat! So what if he's now Quidditch captain and Head Boy, just as he saw himself in the Mirror of Erised in his first year? So what if he'd got over his fear of spiders by battling a horde of Acromantula that attacked Hogwarts last term? So what if he's now so good at Transfiguration that he was able to give her the most beautiful present she ever got for her eighteenth birthday? She sighed again and glanced down at the bracelet she was wearing. It was made of the wildflowers growing behind the Quidditch field. Ron had plaited the stems together and transfigured the entire thing so it would become hard and cool to the touch like metal, yet retaining the color and shape of the original blossoms. It clasped on her wrist on its own, and unclasped if she tugged at it and said "bloody hell." At the time, she laughed at it, thinking how ingenious it was for him to get her to swear whenever she wanted to take off the bracelet. So she got around that by not taking it off at all. Which, she now realized, was precisely what he had wanted in the first place. 'He's so sweet, how did he know I loved wildflowers? OH, STOP IT! I have to keep thinking he's a prat and I should just... I should... I... I adore him,' she sighed for the third time in as many minutes.

She tried to think about his many faults. He was arrogant, to start off. But then again, maybe he had a right to be a little proud of himself. After all, he had done what he set out to do: outshine all his brothers. In his fifth year, he tried out for, and got, the position of Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. That wasn't so spectacular; she knew he could do it. What was spectacular was, he became team captain after playing one game. He was a scarlet and gold daredevil on his mother's old Silver Arrow. He painstakingly rebuilt and re-charmed the old broomstick during the summer before their fifth year, according to his sister Ginny. Now it was his most prized possession. It had saved his life, both on and off the Quidditch field. And because he was such a good player, he now had a fan club, like his best friend, Harry Potter, did. What was so irritating was, his fan club consisted for the most part of shrieking females who never missed the chance to goggle at him while he walked down the corridors on his way to class. 'Stupid girls,' she thought, 'always asking him to go to Hogsmeade with them, always following him around, asking him to dance with them WHILE HE WAS STILL DANCING WITH ME last Valentine's Day ball!' But he DID turn them down nicely all the time, clearly embarrassed that he had to do so. He always wanted to be where she and Harry were, to watch out for them, as he said.

And then, he'd been made Prefect, along with her and Harry in their fifth year. Part of the changes made at Hogwarts due to Voldemort's return was the appointment of three Prefects from the fifth, sixth and seventh years to help the staff maintain order and safety in school. Ron took his Prefect duties seriously. He volunteered to look after the first years, acting as their big brother and helping them with schoolwork. They all hero-worshipped him and worked hard to win his approval. He was happy to be admired. But knowing he was expected to be a role model made him more careful about how he acted, at least in public. When it was just the three of them, he promptly went back to being a prat. And when he'd been named Head Boy before the start of their seventh year, he actually went to Dumbledore to tell him it was a mistake, that Harry would do a much better job. The Headmaster assured him that he deserved the position, especially since he was given another special award for services to the school for fighting off the Acromantula attack. 'Okay, so maybe he isn't as arrogant as I thought he would be. In fact, I really can't say that he's arrogant at all,' she admitted to herself.

Hermione continued her patrol of the corridor, and then went up one of the staircases to inspect another row of classrooms. 'A-HA, he swears too much and he's too hot-tempered!' She rejoiced at finally being able to come up with something irritating about Ron. His temper had almost lost him his Prefect badge in their sixth year, when he practically ground Draco Malfoy's jaw into powder for calling her a mudblood once too often. Dumbledore himself took it in hand to punish Ron, making him serve detention the entire year, and deducting one hundred points from Gryffindor. But he always told her she was worth it, which made her blush every time. Whatever his detention was, it involved so much hard work that he was nearly asleep on his feet by sunset. However, he wouldn't tell her or Harry what it was at first, since Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy. It turned out that he had been given advanced lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and was repeatedly subjected to the Cruciatus and Imperius curses until he could resist them. He had to constantly put a glamour charm on himself so they wouldn't see the bruises on his body. She remembered crying for hours when she found out how badly he had been hurt. Later, she and Harry had to undergo the same kind of training, although not as severe as Ron's, to help defend Hogwarts against Voldemort's attacks. 'Okay, so maybe he learnt his lesson after all,' she conceded.

She stopped walking. She thought she heard a noise. She hardly dared to breathe so she could listen carefully. But there was no one there, not even a ghost. She started to move again. 'He's too overprotective of Ginny and me, especially when I don't need protection,' her brain pounced on another reason to hate Ron. He scared away every boy who had ever shown the faintest interest in her. Even poor Neville Longbottom rubbed Ron the wrong way whenever he asked Hermione for help with their Potions homework almost everyday. But she didn't think Ron ever threatened Neville; they just had a talk one night in the common room during their fifth year, and afterwards Neville rarely went to her for help on his homework again. Neither boy gave her any details of their talk. Ron just said that they understood each other, and asked her to drop the matter. She didn't, of course; she threatened to hex him a few times, and actually DID hex him once while they argued about it, but he never said a word, until she gave up. 'He doesn't want any boy going near me, except himself and Harry, but he doesn't want me either!' She was so frustrated. Was he being thickheaded on purpose? Or could it be that he only saw her as a friend? After all, he was just as protective with his sister Ginny; only, he let up on his sister sometimes, while he never let up on her.

She took a left turn down another corridor, and promptly froze. Ron was lying on the floor. He wasn't moving or breathing, his skin was paler than parchment, and he was covered in blood. Scream after scream escaped her throat while she ran towards him. As she knelt beside him and reached out to touch him, cold sweat started pouring down her face and back. It was as though a hundred Dementors were surrounding her. She fell to the floor sobbing and shivering for what seemed like an eternity. She closed her eyes; her body started to twitch, and she felt her stomach and legs go numb.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. She opened her eyes, but was too weak to turn and look at whoever was coming.

"Riddikulus!" a familiar voice roared behind her. Ron's body in front of her exploded into puffs of heavy gray smoke, then vanished.

"Hermione! Are you awake?" The warm voice was driving all the cold away.

She looked up, and relief washed over her. "Oh, RON, I thought you were..."

Ron knelt down and pulled her into a tight hug. "'S all right, 'Mione. The boggart's gone now."

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that to you, I should've listened..." she sobbed into his robes.

"Shh, it's okay, no harm done. At least you've learnt your lesson now, haven't you?" She saw his deep blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"WHAT?! How dare you, after what you said to me?" She had to pretend to sound indignant, but she knew he could tell it was just an act. She felt stupidly happy at that moment. Part of her was screaming, 'Ron's HUGGING me! RON's hugging me! Ron's hugging ME!' She was convinced her brain had just turned into goo.

"I dare you to tell me what we argued about in the common room tonight." His tone was openly playful now, and he was still holding her in his arms.

"I... You... you said... I was..." That's it, her brain really HAD turned into goo.

"Well?" He grinned, and for one split second, she forgot her name.

"Shut up and let me think! It was..." 'So this is how being Confunded feels like,' she sighed.

"Aw, give it up. You can't remember, can you? Honestly, I can't remember, either." He flashed her a smile that was brighter than moonlight, and once again Cornish pixies came to life inside her.

He slowly let go of her, and she had to clamp her jaws together to stop herself from crying again. But it was too late. A tear had fallen onto her cheek. She watched him watch the tear slide down. Just then Ron cradled her face in his large hands and carefully wiped away her tears, making her feel warm, then cold, then hot. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing." His voice was so soft and strangely comforting.

She managed to give him a weak smile. "N-no, I'm fine. I just want to go to my room."

"Are you sure? You're trembling all over. Maybe you need some--"

"I'm fine, really. Could you just take me to my room? Please?" She really did try not to sound too desperate.

"All right. Can you stand?" Ron asked as he helped her to her feet. She started to nod, when she felt her knees buckling under her. He caught her up, tucking one arm under her knees and steadying her upper body with the other. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. She gave up trying to pretend she wasn't affected by his nearness. Instead, she reveled in the feeling of being in his arms. 'How did he learn to fly without a broom?' She felt like she was soaring through the air as he carried her all the way back to her room.