Michelle

Chapter Three

We Can Work It Out...Or Not

Ron sat in the orchard for the longest time, thinking hard. He couldn't believe he and Hermione had broke up...it had been two years, after all...

"Ron!"
Ron turned and saw Harry sprinting up the hill to the orchard.

"What?" Ron asked wearily. Even though Hermione was Harry's girlfriend now, Harry would never stop being Ron's best mate.

"Lunch," Harry said shortly.

"Already?" Ron got to his feet.

"Yeah, it's almost one."

"Oh." There was silence between the two boys, in which a gnome wandered around the orchard drunkenly; Ron watched it, a bit amused.

"I...I heard you and Hermione broke up," Harry said tentatively, breaking the tense silence.

"Yeah." Ron still hadn't fully forgiven Harry for the way he had been earlier.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the way I was acting earlier, Ron. I...I was just so...I'm sorry I was such a pain in the arse," Harry said.

Ron grinned weakly. "That's okay, mate, I know how you're feeling now," he said.

"That's good," Harry said, smiling also. "C'mon, let's go get some lunch."

"O...okay," Ron said reluctantly. "Will Hermione be there?"
"Of course," Harry said, his cheeks flushing a bit.

Ron sighed. "I saw that, Harry Potter."
"What? You saw what?" Harry asked innocently.

"The way you blushed," said Ron flatly, defeated. He knew that Harry had probably snogged Hermione to make her feel better.

"Oh...that..." Harry said. He rubbed the side of his nose in an embarrassed sort of way.

"What'd you do?" Ron asked.

"Oh...nothing," Harry said, his cheeks now a pale red.

"C'mon, Harry, I'm your best friend, and aren't best friends supposed to tell each other everything?" Ron said, almost echoing Hermione's exact words.

"Uh...yeah...but...you wouldn't understand."

Hot anger boiled in Ron's stomach, the kind of anger that was usually caused by one of his brothers telling him he was 'too young' or he 'wouldn't understand'.

"How would you know I wouldn't understand?" Ron growled coldly. "You don't know me. You're...you're not me."

"Ron..." Harry said, his eyes wide, "it's not that...but...I don't know..."

"Yeah yeah, I don't know anything, I'm just the friend of the famous lovely awesome cool stupid Boy-Who-Lived," Ron spat viciously. With that he gathered up a large amount of saliva and deposited it a Harry's feet, snarling insults under his breath as he ran furiously back to the house, wiping the spit off his chin.

He didn't care if everyone in the world was mad at him. He was tired of being 'the Boy-Who-Lived's friend'. Never Ron, just 'that red-haired boy who's always hanging out with Harry Potter'. It made him furious; sometimes he wished it was him, him, Ronald Bilius Weasley, who had no parents and had to live with a couple of stuck-up Muggles, but would still have a scar on his head and fame. Fame. That's what he wanted - he wanted to be known as something other than the stupid Harry Potter 'Chosen One's' friend. Harry didn't understand...he didn't understand one bloody bit...

He found that his feet had taken him to the small stream in the forest behind the orchard where he, Harry, Hermione, and occasionally Ginny, Fred, or George had spent many happy hours sitting around it and talking and playing in it. He remembered during the summer before their fourth year they had spent several hours sitting on rocks and discussing the up-coming Quidditch World Cup - just he and Harry and Hermione. Ron now considered the years before their fifth year at Hogwarts the 'good ol' days'. Now, Harry, Ron, and Hermione - all three of them - were mere shells of what they had been before You-Know-Who had returned. Now, five years later, they were not as they had been, having been through so much. You-Know-Who's return; George's, Tonks's, and Neville's deaths; and especially the fight and flirts between the three teenagers. Ron smiled faintly, despite his anger and hurt, remembering the way he and Hermione had snogged so fiercely by the water during the summer before their seventh year that they had actually fallen into the stream, emerging from the water, sopping wet, but still snogging. Harry had watched, a small hint of jealousy in his eyes, while Ginny watched, simply amused. After that, Harry had kissed Ginny in such a seductive way that Ginny had shrieked and pushed him away, her cheeks a violent red. Ron and Hermione had laughed loudly as Harry also fell into the stream and surfaced, swearing angrily.

He started - he had nearly smiled. Smiled. Smiled when his heart was broken and numb, nearly smiled when his two best friends were in love with each other, nearly smiled when he had no one. No one. The words echoed in his head and he felt empty. So empty. Even if he had Dean, Seamus, Neville, Parvati, and Lavender with him right now, he would still be empty, because he was missing two things from his life - Harry, and Hermione.

Ron turned and started to make his way up the hill and up to the Burrow, where (hopefully) his mum would be waiting for him with lunch. He stopped dead when he heard voices at the top of the hill. Terrified, he crept behind a tree and hid, his ears listening.

"Ron!" That was Hermione, her voice high and panicked.

"Hermione, he's not here. Just forget about him. You've got me now," Harry's voice said.

"True..." Hermione admitted. "But he's still my friend. Look, can't you two just make up?"

Harry snorted. "No, Hermione, we cannot 'just make up'. C'mon..." Ron peeked out from the tree and saw Harry wrapping his arms around Hermione's narrow waist. "Don't worry about us. We're old enough. We're not little."

"Yes, but still..." Hermione protested, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck all the same. "I don't want a quarrelling groom and best man at our wedding."

Harry chuckled and said, "Who ever said he was going to be best man? And who ever said we were getting married?"

Hermione smiled. "I did."

Harry grinned and looked at the stream; Ron quickly ducked behind the tree, his heart thudding. "I remember, Hermione...that summer before our seventh year...when you and Ron were just...just snogging..." Interested, Ron poked his head out from behind the tree.

Hermione turned her huge brown eyes to Harry and asked, concerned, "What?"

"I was so jealous. I wanted to do that to you," Harry said, not meeting Hermione's eyes.

"You...did?" Hermione asked, apparently amazed. She stared at the stream and then at Harry, then back at the stream again, and then back to Harry; her eyes were glimmering with amusement. "So...you really want to snog me so fiercely that we fall into the stream and cut ourselves on rocks, get our clothes and hair soaking wet, and swallow about half the water in that little river?"

"Er...now that you mention it...no."

Hermione laughed, her beautiful, heart-lifting laugh, and leaned closer to Harry, who blushed a bit. "What's wrong, Harry?" she teased. "Never been so close to anyone except for Ginny before?"

Harry reddened more and mumbled, "Well...no one else really..."

Hermione giggled and pressed her lips against his. Ron gasped loudly, and immediately regretted it. Hermione whirled around, her hair connecting with Harry's nose and making him sneeze.

"Ron?" she quaked, her cheeks flaming.

"Yeah?" Ron said, stepping out from behind the tree and unzipping his zipper then zipping it up again.

Hermione watched him curiously. "Why are you doing that?"

"Uh...I was...I was...taking a pee," he invented quickly, feeling his cheeks flush.

"Ewww," Hermione muttered, trying to hide her disgust but not doing very well.

"Yeah...well...when you gotta go, you gotta go," Ron said casually, tracing a line in the dirt with his shoe.

Harry was looking at Ron with a fire burning in his eyes. "No you weren't," he said accusingly. "You were spying on us!"

"Uh..." Ron rubbed the side of his nose, embarrassed.

"Ah-ha!" Harry cried triumphantly, digging in the pocket of his robes and extracting a small, clear bottle filled with a potion.

"What's that?" Ron asked warily.

Harry grinned. "Vertasium, Ronald. The most powerful truth potion there is."

"Well, Potter, you won't need to use that on me to get the truth," Ron said boldly.

"Oh really?" Harry sneered. "What's the truth then?"

Ron took a deep breath and said, "The truth is, Harry James Potter, that you're an arrogant git."

And without waiting for a reply, Ron turned his heel on Harry and Hermione and stalked through the forest, not even listening to Harry's outcry of, "You are the git, you good for nothing b-!!!" or Hermione's whimper of, "Harry!". All he knew was that he was alone. He had lost Harry, and he had lost Hermione.

Ron was alone.

Completely utterly alone.