It's Nothing

It's Nothing

Ron sat in the Gryffindor common room far after the sun had set. The moon was too far overhead to cast any light inside, and the only illumination was provided by a slowly dying fire, hot embers casting a glowing warmth. He waited patiently, occasionally checking the clock, for Harry to return. He twirled a scrap of parchment in his hand, staring down at the sagging paper as he ripped tiny specks of it off. Little bits of white surrounded him, like fat flakes in a fresh snowfall that refused to melt under the heat of the coals. The angry red in the fire paled in comparison to Ron's face, which was twisted in a contemplative sort of fury, as if he was merely waiting for some stimulus to come along that he could crush and kill. He felt angry enough to kill a wayward spider, should one be foolish enough to cross his path.

The wait was almost unbearable.

Finally, he could hear the portrait sliding open and Harry walking in, his footfalls quiet against the carpet. Ron knew that Harry would be attempting a quick escape up to their dormitory and fall asleep; he also knew he had to prevent that. It was now or never.

"Way to play the hero again, Harry."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stared back at the armchair that had spoken to him. "Ron?"

He slowly rose from the chair and turned to face Harry, the low fire highlighting his form in the otherwise dark common room. "Can't get one thing, can I?" he muttered bitterly. "Not with you around. I wanted to ask her to the Yule Ball, but no, you had to beat me to it."

"We're going as friends, Ron."

"The hell you are."

Taking a deep breath, Harry struggled to keep his emotions in check. "Look, Ron, I didn't think you'd want to go with her. Really."

Ron ignored him, fuming as hotly as the coals in the fireplace. "You should have seen how she reacted when I asked her. She giggled - she laughed at me! And then her face, those moony eyes when she said she was going with Harry Potter," he said with a dramatic sigh.

"Honestly, Ron, I'm sorry."

"You always get what you want, don't you? Just because you're bloody famous. Just because of that stupid scar. You're the teachers' pet and you could get away with murder and be patted on the back for it. I'm your best friend, and I always come second! I wish that for one day you could see how it was for me, so you could understand."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron. "Ron, do not even start with me."

"I'm well past starting."

He set his jaw, blood running white hot with rage. "You don't think I've ever wished for the same thing? To be you for a day? You have no idea what kind of a life I lead, Ron. You've seen it from the outside, but how would you feel if all your life you felt worthless?"

"Worthless?" Ron laughed. "Hah!"

"Yes, worthless. I was a constant trial for the Dursleys, something they had to survive day in and day out. My only blood relations, and they hated me. But you," he challenged, pointing a finger at Ron, "you have a set of parents who love you for every fault you have. You have two Prefect brothers who would lay down their lives for you. You have twin brothers that regard you as a partner in crime and would trust you to the ends of the earth with their schemes. You have a brother who's shown you nothing but love and a little sister who admires you for everything you are. How DARE you wish for anything more!"

"You have no expectations to live up to," Ron replied coldly. "No matter what you do, it's never wrong. Nobody sees any faults in you at all, all because you're The Boy Who Lived."

He stepped towards Ron dangerously. "Fine," he spat. "Take it. Take the fame. Take the love. Take the attention and the scrutiny over your every action. Take the scar and the nightmares and the sleepless nights and the splitting headaches. Take the heartache, the deaths, the threats on your life. Take the dark lord with a personal vendetta. Take it all!" Harry glared at him full-force, his voice suddenly calm. "You can't do that, can you?"

"Harry-"

"I'm so tired of all of this, Ron. You and Hermione, you're everything to me. You two are all that I have in this world. I don't have a family to go back to, or siblings, or anything. Sirius is the closest thing to a family I've ever had, and you can see how that's going. And I have to spend every day worrying if anything will happen to you and every night thankful that nothing did."

Ron was stunned into silence at this point. He gaped silently at Harry, who seemed to have a never-ending flood of words to deliver. "You think you're so bloody deprived, but you're not. Not everything you have may be nice, but your family is, and for that, you're richer than I could ever hope to be."

It seemed as though Harry's tirade had finally ended, tapering off into a painful murmur that hurt Ron more than all the other words combined. He tried to give Harry an apologetic look, but the cold stare he received wilted his resolution. "Harry, I never realized-"

"You never tried." Harry's look melted briefly, but only for a fleeting instant before it froze once more. "When will you learn to swallow your pride? You're worse than Malfoy."

He bristled at this comment. "Never," he glowered, "never compare me to Malfoy."

"Then don't act like him."

Suddenly, a rustle came from overhead. "Something wrong down there?"

Harry turned his head and saw a student coming down the stairs. "Nothing," he replied. He returned his gaze to Ron, eyes narrowing slightly. "Nothing at all."

"He's right," Ron replied, returning the icy glare. "Nothing."