Standby

Dedicated to Ron Weasley and Rupert Grint with love.

It’s not like I’m afraid to feel.

It’s not that I’ve never been particularly sentimental.

It’s just that it’s hard knowing what you’re suppose to feel when you look at your best friend and he’s got that look in his eye, and he’s not staring at his girlfriend—he’s staring at your other best friend. Hermione’s sitting there, blinking so obliviously, trying to hide the fact that she likes when Harry stares at her.

Am I jealous?

That’s not it. I got over that a long time ago.

Am I resentful that Hermione and I didn’t work out?

Probably not. It’s been a few years, but I’ve finally realised why it worked out the way it did—in catastrophe and tears. We’re not right for each other. I’m not like Hermione, I wish I was though, so that I could explain this with some logic or rationality in mind, but I’m not. I’m Ron.

She’s so focused and so determined about what she’s going to do, but I’m just sitting here, waiting for life to direct me where to go. That’s what I want to do. I want to see what life’s got in store for me and pick and choose. I may not have enough money, but either way, I don’t want to do all that planning.

So Hermione does see it. She blushes faintly, and twists her pencil around a strand of hair, like she always does when she’s nervous.

Oh, this is sickening. Demeaning. Squeezes all the meaning out of what we’re supposed to be doing.

I wonder if this is what Harry felt like when I tried to confess my ex-feelings for Hermione. He was more supportive, I think, but deep down I think he knew that it was a dead-end street. He was only being a friend. I don’t blame him for not telling me. You trip, you fall, you learn. I dusted off…I learned my lesson. No big deal.

I wonder how much it meant to her. Probably not very much, as I think she’s thinking of jumping on Harry and doing graphical things to him ...she has that wicked gleam in her eye that I don’t like.

Why?

Not because she’s staring at Harry.

Because …because…because it’s just sick. It’s like watching Mum and Dad make romantic faces at the dinner table. It’s sickening. It makes you want to barf.

Of course, I’m not going to make a move. That would attract too much attention. I feel like a spy as I quietly look down at my book and casually watch them out of the corner of my eye.

Am I going to break the silence between those two? Am I going to be the one that fixes them up? That breaks that up apart? That tries to keep them apart?

No.

I just want to standby and watch.

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Thanks to everybody at the Pumpkin thread in SCUSA for feedback and comments. Hope this is enough for Pumpkin representation!

Happy birthday, Ron.