Harry Potter and the Avatars of Atlantis

Harry Potter and the Avatars of Atlantis

Chapter Three: Ron Weasley

After the rather unusual method of introduction to Hermione's father, who he hadn't seen since second year at Diagon Alley; Harry had awkwardly adjusted to life at the Grangers.

Or at least tried to.

Hermione had told him that Ron would be coming in two weeks, escorted by several members of the Order. By separating the time between arrivals, it was hoped that neither one would be considered of much significance. Harry admitted the logic in the plan, but ever since he had kissed Hermione behind her father's car he couldn't help but wish that Ron was here. At the very least that way he would have someone to get away from Hermione with. Whenever he saw her, he mostly just sort of blushed and turned away. She never mentioned his erratic behavior, and for this, Harry was extremely glad.

Because Harry Potter knew that no sister he could have had would ever have kissed like that.

Harry walked down Victorious Circle, his sneakers hitting the pavement at a steady pace, almost a drumbeat. He liked walking down Hermione's street, taking a right at the corner so he didn't have to walk in the crosswalk and he could then just completely walk around the square block. He often muttered to himself and ran his hand along his lightening-bolt shaped scar that was his souvenir from an encounter with the Dark Lord when he was just a baby.

Perhaps the best thing about Harry's inner dwellings upon Hermione Granger was that his mind no longer touched the zones around certain memories regarding Sirius Black. Instead he was constantly worried about whether or not he had ruined his friendship with Hermione, could he ever look at Hermione, and...how good it had felt to kiss Hermione.

After the night he had pressed his lips against Hermione's, Harry's wedding dream, which had not reappeared for practically a month had resurfaced. Once, when he woke up the words "Hermione Elizabeth Granger" was on the tip of his tongue, and he devoutly hoped that nobody had heard his asleep mumblings as he rolled around in his comfortable bed in one of the two guest rooms in the Granger household.

Harry looked around at the houses all of which were of a normal two-story stock, with neither having their own intricate and unique qualities, painted fairly normal house colors. Not one house on Victorious Circle had a dazzling purple stripe down the roof or an architecture that resembled a great bird preparing to take flight. It was largely a clone of Privet Drive, a nice, normal neighborhood.

At least decently normal with Hermione Granger living there. Excessively abnormal with Harry spending the summer there. And once Ron arrived, there was no telling just how strange Victorious Circle would soon become.

Without realizing it, Harry had circled the block and found himself stopped right in front of Hermione's house again. As he stared up at the dove-like whiteness of the two-story home, which had a rather charming front door with an oval-shaped stain-glass window of a castle next to a lake. Hermione's mother had told Harry they had purchased the door after Hermione's second-year when the then twelve-year old girl had seen it on display at a hardware store and immediately fallen in love with it, saying how much it reminded her of Hogwarts. It had been one of her parents' early thirteenth birthday gifts for the young girl, as they had installed it while she was out with her father on the day before Hermione had left for third-year on September first.

Harry let out a large gust of breath. He would have to talk to Hermione now, the fact that he had been avoiding her for the past few days was certainly not helping his problems. But avoidance was the only thing that was assuring that he wouldn't lose control of himself and spill something to her that he wasn't supposed too.

His scar prickled a bit as he walked up the path to the house, but that was a normal sensation. He was even beginning to get used to feeling exactly what the Dark Lord felt (either hate or joy) although that fortunately hadn't happened since the end of term. At the moment, Harry could only assume Voldemort was working strenuously to break out the ten Death Eaters being held at Azkaban, no longer guarded by dementors; but the most skilled of the Magical Law Enforcement wizards.

He opened the door with the spare key the Granger's had kindly awarded him, and pushed the door open. He called out "Hermione!" before he could really stop himself, and it wasn't long she came sliding down the banister of her stairwell, landing rather gracefully on the foot of the stairs with an uncertain smile.

Harry was a bit shocked at seeing Hermione perform such a maneuver, as he always considered her the perfect girl who would never attempt to break any rules. He blinked slowly a few times and she sort of smiled and tilted her head a bit, "Mum and Dad went out for a few hours to go get some groceries."

This was news to Harry, "Your parents trust me," he pointed his right forefinger at himself to accentuate the point, "To be alone with you after, what we, er, I did?"

Hermione sighed and came over and gave Harry a hug, draping her arms around his neck. Harry's mind told him he should certainly pull away, but instead he placed his hands around her waist. "Harry," she said softly, "Can we just forget about that and pretend it never happened?"

A huge gulp rose in Harry's throat.

"No," Hermione answered for him, "I can see that you can't." She buried her head in his chest, and Harry's right hand automatically went to her hair and he began stroking it.

"I'm sorry Hermione."

He felt her sigh into his body, "Harry, you don't need to be sorry," her muffled voice reported, "I'm just...so confused."

Harry nodded, "I know Hermione, I know."

She shook her head against his chest, which was a new and even possibly enjoyable experience for Harry. "You don't. Viktor's always sending me letters with hints of wanting more then just friendship-"

That was news to Harry, "You mean you aren't more than friends?"

Hermione unfurled her head from Harry's torso, "No, no." Her sigh seemed to shake the entire room, "For a while, but my feelings were so confused at the time we just faded into platony. No break-up, but no feelings either."

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione placed a finger on his lips, "Don't say you understand or are sorry." Harry had, in fact, been about to say the later.

She continued, "And then there's Ron...and things are so muddled between me and him," her chest heaved another heavy sigh, "Harry, and then, there's us." Hermione's head shook again, "I don't know what to do."

Neither, actually, did Harry Potter. It was a decently windy July day outside, he was holding a girl, one who had dreams of being married to, by the waist, but...he was absolutely clueless. He grasped on the only thing that was glaring at him.

"What's that about Ron?"

Hermione looked him directly in the eyes and he poured his gaze into hers, getting quite a sense of deja vu that he half-expected Hermione to suddenly be adorned in white robes of pure silk.

Hermione was incredulous, "Y-you mean you haven't noticed?"

Feeling rather thick, just as when Hermione had told him that the Daily Prophet had been concocting slanderous stories about him last summer, Harry replied with a steady, "No."

"He likes me Harry, and he has since fourth year."

Harry's eyebrows felt as if they had soared through the ceiling out the roof, reached escape velocity and warped past the moon before burning up in the sun. "He what?"

Hermione nodded, "Harry, I know you aren't that subtle, but hopefully you picked up on some of the signs! And I don't know exactly where my feelings lie right now between you, him, and Viktor."

Harry felt as if Hermione had just put a vise around his heart and squeezed hard. "Her-my-oh-knee..."

Hermione leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, but Harry lost his head completely and turned so that her lips meant his. Instead of pulling back, as Harry fully expected, she pressed harder and Harry drew her closer, caressing her back and feeling those tingles of pleasure again...

Just then there was a loud crack! behind them, and Harry and Hermione turned around to see Ron Weasley, his jaw currently resting on the floor, his face beet-red as he stood there in wizarding robes clutching a beat-up rusty fork, an obvious Portkey.

"Oh no..." moaned Hermione and she beat feet up to her room, leaving Harry there to take care of Ron.

It took Ron a few seconds to rediscover that he had a tongue and when he did, he did not bellow as Harry expected him too, but rather he simply uttered his words in a tone that was almost a whisper, "What are you doing?"

Harry's gut reaction was to say that Ron wasn't supposed to be here for another week and a half, but he decided that was out of the question. It sounded terribly guilty. All Harry was trying to do was try to get Hermione to choose him...but he wasn't quite sure what to do.

Finally, he replied, "Well, I was...showing how I felt for Hermione."

Ron grinned, although his smile didn't quite meet his eyes, "Well blimey mate!" he grabbed Harry's hand and shook it thoroughly, "I'm happy for you! You can't imagine how odd it's going to be for awhile, but you needed something like this, especially after Sirius..." he trailed off, fearful that he had said too much.

The mentioning of Sirius did cause Harry to vividly re-experience his godfather's death, but the utter shock that Ron was happy for him and wasn't in love with Hermione nearly bowled him over. All he could stammer out was a confused, "Y-You mean you don't like Hermione?"

Ron gave a slight snigger, "Don't like her, mate? No, I love our little know-it-all," he paused for a beat and seemed to be decided how best to put things, "But not that way anymore. Not enough to go snogging her in her own house." His grin wasn't completely sincere, but this was entirely lost on Harry, as no sooner had Ron said his piece, Harry was off like a flash leaving a very befuddled Ron yelling at him as he rain up the stairs, "Harry? Just what the bloody heck are you doing?"

Harry ignored Ron and hustled up the stairs, careful not to knock over the Granger family pictures on the wall beside him. He soon heard Ron bounding up the stairs after him, swearing noticeably. Harry reached the top of the stairs and looked around for Hermione's room...he knew it was across the hall from his own. There it is, he thought, The one with the door open.

Sprinting at full speed, Harry ran in to her room, where a very surprised Hermione Granger looked up from her parchment, her eyes still red from tears. Harry tripped over a a rather large stuffed zebra that been in the middle of the floor, and landed with a soft phwunk on Hermione's bed. Ron, meanwhile, arrived after Harry, and leaned on the sides of the doorway, his face flushing magenta and taking sharp intakes of breath.

Harry, a very different Harry emotionally from the one who had denied his feeling for Hermione just three days before, blurted out, "Ron doesn't fancy you Hermione!"

Hermione raised a brow at Ron who put out his left hand as a sign for them to wait until he could catch his breath. "No," he finally panted out ten seconds later, "I mean, I used to Hermione, but I've...." he took a few more deep gasps of breath, "Been thinking about it, and I...just don't feel it would,

" more panting, "Work."

Hermione's eyes bulged, and small grin placed itself on her countenance, she looked up at Ron and flashed him an insincere smile, "Thank you Ron, you've increased the load on my mind considerably."

With that she turned back to whatever project she was currently working on.

Harry gaped, and was about to say something when Ron entered Hermione's room with a shocked expression on his face. "Hermione, is that why you ran when I walked in on you? You thought I rated you that way?"

Hermione nodded, and was about to say something when Ron put a hand out to stop her speech, "And yet you're not going to go start snogging with Harry right now?"

Hermione closed her eyes and put her quill down, she clenched her jaw. "I don't know, Ron, my emotions are just things that transfer easily like money from one bank account to another."

"Is it Vicky?" Ron said, not softly as his previous inquiries had been, but with a distinct edge to his voice. "You think that you'd be better off with a famous Quidditch star who's always being mobbed by the press and who has hundreds of practically insane detractors and admirers, and....and..." he looked over at Harry who was now much glummer than usual as he laid on the bed.

"Why thank you Ron," he said, with sarcasm biting his every word, "I think you may have just described to Hermione about the same problems she'd have with me."

At that, Hermione took the book she had been working from and slammed it down hard on her desk, "RON, FOR THE LAST BLOODY TIME I-DON'T-KNOW! NOW LEAVE! BOTH OF YOU, LEAVE!"

Harry quickly bounded off the bed and Ron sped through the doorframe. The duo quickly had run their way down to the kitchen where Ron helped himself to some cookies and milk from the refrigerator ("What a great way to not have to use Flash-Freezing Charms!") and Harry just sat on a stool by the counter, with a dazed look on his face.

"C'mon now Harry," Ron said, his mouth full of chocolate chips and baked dough, "It wasn't that bad. How long have you two been going at it?"

Harry sighed and talked about how he had begun to struggle with himself over Hermione as just a friend or something more, and then how he had kissed her behind her father's car. He explained how he had felt the past three days and then the events leading up to their snogging session near the foot of the stairs.

"Interesting," Ron said around a mouthful of cookie, "But why did you begin to get a feelings shift for our dear mate Hermione Granger?"

Harry looked down at the designs of lilacs and roses on the tile floor of the Granger kitchen. He nicked one of Ron's cookies and bit into it wondering if he should tell Ron about the wedding dream. A few bites later, after Harry had fully consumed about half of the cookie, Ron prodded a bit, "Well?"

Heaving another large sigh (everybody seemed to be sighing as of late), Harry told Ron about his dream of getting married to Hermione. Ron's eyebrows waggled and raised slightly as Harry told it in the broken bits and pieces of dreams. He clearly remembered his mother and father, Crookshanks, and seeing Hermione walking down the aisle.

When he was finished, Ron gave a small snort. "I'm your best man, eh? Sounds interesting. Do I get to run your stag party too?"

Harry was irritated, how come Ron thought this was funny? "Ron..."

His red-headed friend put up his hands in mock surrender, "Okay, okay, so this is kinda important to you, I can appreciate that. There's only one thing to do Harry," he downed the rest of his milk, "We'll have to talk some sense into her."

Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair, he was afraid Ron would come up with pointless advice like that, but it had certainly been worth a try to bear his soul to Ron hadn't it? Harry snorted as quietly as he possibly could. Ron glowered a bit, but pretended not to notice.

"Isn't there something I can do Ron? Without, you know, practically inviting her to hit me like she did to Malfoy in third-year?"

Ron plucked the last cookie from his plate, "Shy of creating a Love Potion, which judging by the why you two were kissing you hardly need that...I'd just give her time. Bloody cripes mate, she was certain that both of her best friends in addition whatever Vicky is to her, wanted to snog her silly. I'm sure she was plenty confused before, especially as I'm such a gorgeous specimen for female forms to gaze upon for hours, if not days at a time."

Harry sniggered, but even Ron's admittingly lame attempt at humor was not helping his mood today as it normally would. "So, er, just give it time and all will work out for good in the end?"

Ron shrugged, his blue eyes twinkling with a gleam that was most often reserved for Fred and George before they went about a bit of troublemaking. "Like I said, you could always just go on up back there."

Harry moaned in disbelief, "You can't be serious, Ron!"

Ron sort of grinned, "Why not Harry? She was working on something important, maybe something for spew...go on and see if you can't help her out a little bit."

Harry shook his head at Ron, "Are you trying to cause trouble?" At this, Ron sniggered loudly, "Besides, our little Hermione up there got all Outstandings on her O.W.L.s, I'm pretty sure she can think for herself."

Ron sputtered in disbelief as his attention drawn from the Harry and Hermione drama, "I dreadfulled three subjects! I didn't even get a single O. Mum hit the bloody roof..." Ron eventually managed to calm his tirade down much more swiftly then he had in years past.

"By the way," Ron looked Harry in the eye, "If you need any help with how to kill You-Know-Who to fulfill the prophecy, Hermione can probably help you more then I can. Another reason to just go upstairs and-"

Ron was unable to finish his sentence as Harry had stood up, thrown both of his arms on the counter and was glaring at Ron, "How....do....you...know...about....the....prophecy..."

Ron blinked a bit and then cursed softly before answering, "Hermione owled me. That's why I arrived her, I figured you could need some help, mate, so Fred and George gave me one of their prototype Portkeys," he finished the rusty fork out of his pocket, "I mean she didn't quite say it plainly but told me enough that I was able to get Dad to spill it..."

Harry cared very little for what Ron thought about helping him, as he had stood up again seething with anger. Hermione had written Ron, told him what he had told her with an assumed understanding that she was to tell no-one, and repeat, no-one about it. Of course, as he was holding her in his arms at the time, nuzzling her to his chest, he hadn't really considered that he really hadn't told her anything about the secrecy of what he had uttered.

With Harry's feet now taking him upstairs to unleash some of his anger on Hermione, Ron grabbed him by the shoulders. "Come now, don't go and be a bloody prat and do something that'll destroy this budding relationship. I wouldn't really want you do go upstairs. Referring a fight isn't high on my list of priorities these days."

"What budding relationship?" Harry mumbled, but still, Harry allowed himself to be lead to a sofa in front of the television.

Ron sat down next to him, "Now, Harry, get a bloody grip on yourself. You remember how I looked at you when I mentioned that Ginny deserves a better boyfriend on the Hogwarts Express?"

Harry nodded sullenly, as much as he liked Ginny Weasley as a friend he could hardly picture himself caressing Ron's little sister in the same manner he was snogging Hermione just minutes before.

"Well, Harry, it's the same kind of deal here. As much I used to like this fine brunette beauty upstairs, when I saw how she worked as a prefect, how we were constantly bickering....bah, Harry my folks are like that often enough. Dad's happy with it, but I couldn't be. But with you Harry, you and Hermione have always gotten along, quite decently. And I still love Hermione, albeit platonically, therefore, I'd like to know her boyfriend would be a good, gentlemanly wizard...that's you right there in a nutshell Harry!"

Harry felt like he was going to retch. He was glad that Ron was showing no (surface) hard feelings against the idea of his going out with Hermione, but he had no idea how to respond to what had happened in Hermione's room.

"Look Harry, don't get down on yourself because of what happened up there, it's probably just that time of the month, and after all, you know how emotional girls are, they can be real pains in the-what are you looking at?"

At around the time Ron had begun with his "Look Harry" portion of his pep talk to Harry, the raven-haired wizard had noticed that Hermione Granger had walked through the kitchen, and leaned across the counter with her arms folded and an unmistakable smirk on her face.

"Go on Ron," she encouraged waving a hand at Ron in a run-along fashion, "You're absolutely enthralling me. Girls are such pains in the?"

Ron refused to answer and instead groaned and announced he had to go to the bathroom. Hermione grinned wickedly, and gestured Harry to come over. As he did, Hermione leaned across the counter and gave Harry a gentle kiss on the lips. Harry felt his body respond with the instinct to snog her until she begged to stop, but declined his initial intentions and pulled away.

"Hermione," he managed to get out, "What are you doing?"

"Acting like a prat," she answered with an odd smile.

Harry didn't doubt this, especially as just, he looked over Hermione's shoulder at the clock, half an hour ago, she had been completely unsure where to go.

"I mean, I, er, uh, how did you, er, decide?" Harry felt as though he would soon melt into a toxic puddle, leaving nothing but his clothes, which would then be swallowed up by the acidity of the pale liquid that was once Harry, as he waited in trepidation for her answer.

She said nothing, but instead Hermione pulled a silver string out of her pocket.

It was an Extendable Ear.

In response to Harry's unanswered question, she replied, "Fred and George sent me the charms they used to make them. I heard everything," her eyes began to water, "Harry, I was so touched at you took our friendship into consideration...I simply knew you were what I wanted."

There was still a slight edge in his voice, "So I'm just as good as Ron or Krum, eh? Just barely?"

The Hermione-voice inside of his head that showed logic and reason scolded him, Just what are you trying to do here? Throw your sense of ego into the rubbish bin and kiss her before she can answer.

Harry decided, for once, to listen to this part of his brain, and kissed Hermione deeply just as she began to speak.

After a few seconds, the toilet flushed, and Harry clearly heard Ron's voice cry out after the door had opened, "Erm Hermione, your toilet overflooded...oh good Gryffindor!" and he began applauding mockingly as Harry and Hermione broke off their kiss and wheeled around to face Ron, who was standing up to his ankles in toilet water.

Hermione leapt into action and jogged around the counter to Ron, berating him all the time. "Oh honestly Ron, you needn't have opened the door, it's getting all over the carpet and I can't clean it up or fix the pipes with magic since its summer."

Walking over, Harry grinned, "The Ministry only sends you a warning the first time Hermione."

Hermione gave him a look of utter disbelief, "And just because I can bend the rules and get away with it doesn't mean that I have to does it Harry?"

"Erm, no, I suppose not," Harry was certainly at a loss to explain how that much water had flowed out of Hermione's toilet, but, as usual, Hermione took charge. She walked over, careful not to slip in the water or touch an electric switch (Harry had to slap Ron's arm when he tried to turn off the light).

Hermione then opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a supply of plumbing tools. Ron was quite amazed.

"You know how to be a plubbler?"

"Plumber," Hermione corrected, "And yes, I taught myself from some how-to books I read after I finished all of my summer homework in second year." She began to look at the back of the toilet, and waved at Harry and Ron with a wrench, "Could you two please leave? I'd like to do this without an audience."

With that, Harry and Ron walked out the door. Ron looked at Harry with a bit of interest, "Got yourself quite a catch there, eh, Harry?"

But Harry wasn't listening, instead, sitting on the couch, he saw Hermione Granger, wearing a Muggle T-shirt and jeans, sitting placidly on the lap of a certain blond-haired Slytherin that was caressing her cheek softly with a pale white hand.

Harry's hands balled up into fists, "Malfoy..." he hissed malevolently.

"Er, Harry?" Ron asked hesitantly, as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder to see if he was all right.

Harry blinked.

No was on the couch.

"Yeah," Harry said absently, purging the image of Hermione cuddling in Malfoy's arms from his mind, "I got quite a catch."