Just Friends... Right?

Hormones. Yes, he'd put it down to hormones. Harry had no experience with romance, how was he to know the difference between friendship and, well, something else? He'd forget about the whole thing. He wasn't going to give up his whole bond with his best friend just to "experiment". He didn't even know what that entailed. Even the thought of the word "experiment" made him shudder. He sure as hell wasn't... that. The awkwardness around Ron would subside, and soon he'd completely forget about it. There was no need for anyone else to know. There was no time for all this thinking anyway, he was a sixth year now, and there were way too many other things to think about. Such as homework... such as the potions essay that he was still expected to write.

He sat down in the common room once again. It was a rather quiet today, and compared to yesterday and the chess match, it was downright empty. He brought out his essay, which happened to be only six lines so far if you counted where he put the name and date at the top. He took out his quill and turned it over and over in his hand. He watched as the black ink from the end dripped down to the parchment on the table. What's wrong with me? Drip, drip, drip. Am I going insane? The firelight reflected off the pool of ink that accumulated on the page. It was mesmerizing, and Harry couldn't help but stare into it.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry snapped as he was shaken awake. The ink had matted his hair, and Hermione stared oddly at the black stain on the side of his face.

"The first years were staring, so I thought I'd tell you that your face was covered in ink. And you were snoring." She looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright, Harry? You look terrible."

Harry got up and looked around. The first years were indeed staring at him, though they looked quickly away as they noticed he could see them. Not only were the first years staring at him, but some of the older students were as well. Dean and Seamus smirked as he looked in their direction. Next to them sat Ron; he looked right at him. His gaze lingered on Ron's face until he remembered that he should be uncomfortable, and looked away. Should be uncomfortable? Why should he be uncomfortable? What happened to forgetting all about this? Harry saw from the reflection inside his own glasses that Ron was still looking in his direction. Harry didn't linger to see when he'd look away. He walked quickly up the stairs and out of Ron's line of sight.

What a weird dream, he thought as he opened the wooden door and stepped in to the cool dormitory. He shivered and walked to close the window, but stopped short. He stared outside and looked to the lake. The lake. His dream had taken him back to fourth year once again. The lake. Down in the icy depths of the water, not knowing how long he had, but he knew what he'd find. The lake. He climbed into bed but couldn't sleep. He had lain there for hours when Ron walked in the door. He climbed into bed and closed the curtain without a glance in Harry's direction. We've taken what you'll sorely miss. It was Ron that he would miss. It's Ron that he did miss. He may be in the next bed, but he was so incredibly far away. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.