Self-Revelation

Harry clambered through the portrait hole of Gryffindor Tower after a very unpleasant detention with Snape, (apparently, Snape didn't appreciate being called a greasy, hooked-nose git) in which Harry was forced to disembowel about one hundred bull frogs. He scanned the near-empty common room and spotted Hermione and Ron in yet another bickering round. This one was centered (from what he could piece together from Ron's bellowing and Hermione's high-pitched screech) on Ron's outrage that Hermione was still writing and receiving letters from Victor Krum, (that lousy git! He's four years older than you!) and on Hermione's fury that Ron thought he knew what was best for her (I don't see how who I write to is any of your concern!). Harry was used to their rowing by now, and wasn't surprised that neither of them noticed him sneak up the staircase to the boy's dormitories. He was too tired to try and get them to stop arguing, and knew that it was usually best just to leave them to it. Harry was convinced they would reconcile their differences soon enough.

Eventually, Ron huffily stomped into the boy's dormitory a little while after Harry had fallen asleep, and in his anguished state, slammed the door loud enough to wake the other boys with a start.

Dean yelled out, "Who's got the Bludger!?" while Seamus knocked over the water-pitcher by his four-poster, and Neville fell right out of his bed with a loud thud. Harry simply awakened with a slight jolt, and after realizing he had only dreamed of falling off his broom from one hundred feet, looked through his hangings to see Ron aggressively ripping the hangings of his own four-poster about himself, not realizing that three sleepy and disgruntled boys were glaring at him. Harry simply laid back down thinking "They'll settle it tomorrow."

Eventually the dormitory was once more filled with the sound of

Neville's snoring, and long, deep breaths issued from four of the five beds. Ron however was still silently fuming.

"How can she like that git?! It's not healthy, him being four years older than her!" he whispered through gritted teeth.

But that wasn't what was really bugging him...Hermione had asked (more like spat at) him something that he had been pondering himself every time he went to sleep for the past few weeks, or watched her by the fire, or saw her raise her hand (every few minutes basically) in class. "Why do I care so much?" he thought bitterly.

"Why is it I care who she writes too? It's really none of my business, is it?" he said softly, with a tone of defeat.

"So, why do I care?" he rolled this around in his head, ignoring the most obvious answer until he just couldn't fake that well-I'm-her-friend-and-as-her-friend-I-just-have-her-best-interests-in-order speech that he had been depending on all along to mask the true answer.

"I like Hermione Granger," he said this to himself very quietly. This statement seemed to seal his inner-struggle, and as if he had just been fed a bottle of Veritaserum, he seemed to have turned his four-poster into a confessional.

"I've liked her for a while but never really realized it. And, because of that, I've acted like a real prat. I've been an even bigger prat since she met Krum, because I'm jealous, and that's all there is to it."

Ron frowned up at his dark canvas ceiling. "So, now that I know I've been a git to Hermione because I like her, what do I do?"

"I dunno mate, but maybe you should start by apologizing."

Ron jumped, and was in danger of falling out of bed just as Neville had when he saw a mass of messy black hair and pair of emerald green eyes peering at him through a gap in his hangings.

"Harry... you... how long... what... hear..." Ron could hardly speak, and had become so white it was hard to differentiate between him and his bed sheets.

Harry just laughed. "Awww, dun worry mate, I've known all along anyways. But next time you have a conversation with yourself, try and keep it down ok?"

Ron was starting to regain some of the feeling in his limbs, although he was still having trouble speaking, "But... how... could you... I never... knew... until... now..."

Harry laughed again. "Well, that isn't entirely true is it? You've known it deep down for a while... like you just said. I was wondering when you'd figure it out."

Ron made another attempt at proper speech, "How... long... were you... listening"

Harry smiled. "Well, when you slammed the door shut it was kinda' hard to get back to sleep. I've been awake since."

"Sorry," Ron said. He had nearly calmed down now from the shock of finding out Harry had been tuned in to his little self-realization session, and was now concerned with the matter at hand. "So, what do I do now?"

Harry smiled once again. "Well, first, as I said, you should apologize for being a git. Than, just tell her how you feel."

"Easier said than done," Ron mumbled, staring at his sheets.

"Aww, come on Ron. You know Hermione. She'd be really understanding."

Ron noted the stress Harry put on his last words, and another thought hit him. "Wait a minute! Does Hermione, you know, like me too?"

Harry just gave him a wry smile and said, "Better be off to bed mate. I think you've got enough to think about. We've got a potions test tomorrow. Snape made sure to remind me during detention." Harry gave a small shudder, and made his way back to his own four-poster.

Ron collapsed back onto his pillow, and started staring back up at the canvas ceiling. But this time, he couldn't help himself from grinning, and fell asleep to some wonderful dreams featuring a bushy brown haired someone....