Insults and Compliments

Insults and Compliments

It was a peaceful train ride, but for the usually rolling bumps that come standard with such a trip. That is, until...

"Potter!" sang the unbearable, nasal voice of Pansy Parkinson. And where Pansy went, a certain blond villain was sure to follow, along with his two favorite minions, of course.

"Oh look, it's Potter, Weasel and the Mudblood," drawled Draco Malfoy. "What a fun little party you lot must be having."

Pansy laughed sickeningly. Crabbe and Goyle just stood there looking menacing.

"Step off, Malfoy," warned Hermione, gesturing pointedly to her Prefect badge. "We can give you a detention at a moment's notice!"

"'We'?" asked Malfoy feigning surprise, and did a double take to look at Ron's chest, which also displayed a Prefect badge in the proud Gryffindor colors. "Oh, that's right. Weasel beat you to it, didn't he Potter? Stings, doesn't it? But, oh, we've been through this before. Last year, I believe. Shame things didn't turn around for you this year. Of course, if it had been me, my father-"

"Would have been a big stupid prick, I know. I've met him." Harry was getting fed up with this presumptuous little jerk's attitude. Draco's face went quickly from its usual paleness to a rather pinkish shade.

"You watch what you say, Potter. You watch it, or my father will-"

"What, send me a howler from jail? Because that's where he is, isn't he? Can't help you much there, can he?"

"At least my father's not dead!"

"I'd rather have a dead father then a rat one like yours!"

Now they had their wands out, pointing towards each other, their favorite hexes rolling on the tips of their tongues.

Draco practically spat his next insult. "At least I'm not second to a poor, red-headed Weasel like you are!"

Harry had to think quickly of a reply that would be biting to Malfoy, but at the same time wouldn't hurt Ron.

"Good friends are hard to come by, and at least I've got one!"

Hermione cleared her throat.

"Two! What do I care if he has things I haven't got? I have things he hasn't got, and I'm sure he wouldn't want them anyway if I asked."

Ron was turning red, and felt stupid just standing there, so added a not-so-helpful "Yeah!"

Draco snorted. "This is useless. You lot'll never see how pathetic you are. Well... Maybe someday. I can only hope I'm there to see it!"

With that, Draco spun out of the compartment. (Or at least tried to; it was hard with Crabbe and Goyle blocking the doorway like two hairy boulders.) Pansy leered menacingly at Harry and his friends, and hurried after Draco.

Hermione slammed the compartment door shut after them. "Thank goodness they're finally gone. But it'll take ages to get the stink out of here, I suppose."

Harry chuckled appreciatively, but Ron just slumped onto the nearest seat.

"I'm the one who's second to you, Harry. Always have been, always will be."

"Oh please, Ron. That's not true and you know it," said Harry.

"Fine, then," said Ron, looking miserable. "Name one thing I've got that you haven't. Not including being Prefect, because that's no fun anyway."

"I'll name a bunch," said Harry, counting off on his fingers as he listed them.

"First off, you've got a great family. I've got the Dursleys. Second, you have a nice, normal forehead. No weird scar. Third..."

"Harry's definitely second as far as girls go," interrupted Hermione.

"What?!" demanded Ron, clearly surprised. "But- Harry's the famous one! Shouldn't he get all the girls?"

"Apparently not," continued Hermione. "It must've been those crazy rumors that killed it for him. But, Ron, you should hear the girls talk about you."

Ron grinned. "Really? What do they say?"

"Well, mostly they talk about your feet."

Ron looked surprised. "My feet? What? What do they say about them?"

"I guess they talk about how big they are."

Now Ron looked really confused. "Why do they talk about how big my feet are?"

"Well, you know what they say about big feet..." said Hermione, with an odd expression that had never been seen before on her face.

"No... what?" asked Ron, looking blank. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Never mind!"

Harry, however, had obviously gotten the joke, because he was shaking with suppressed laughter. Ron made a grumpy face and crossed his arms.

"Fine! Don't tell me. I don't care."

* * *

Before long, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The students were herded into the Great Hall for the routine start-of-term feast. There was nothing particularly interesting about the sorting, aside from a very excited first year boy who had caused Ron and Harry to nudge each other and chuckle. The food was outstanding; London broil, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, corn on the cob and even more delicious dishes Harry couldn't find a name for.

About fifteen minutes into the meal, a rambunctious redhead dropped onto the bench near Harry, Hermione and Ron.

"Hey Harry, Hermione," greeted Ginny quickly, but with a grin. "Ron, I'm using Pigwidgeon. I've left something at home and mum needs to send it over. Thanks, bye."

Ginny got up as abruptly as she had arrived, flouncing out of the Great Hall, presumably back to the Gryffindor Commone Room.

Ron turned an angry red and spluttered, scowling.

"How dare she- My owl- She has no- Ugh, I'll tell her..." Ron leapt up from his seat, abandoning his share of bread pudding, to chase Ginny down and tell her off.

Harry and Hermione sat in silence for a while, Harry wolfing down his dessert and Hermione still working daintily on her main course. Harry finally finished his third helping of dessert and leaned back, satiated. But something was still on his mind...

"Hermione?" Harry asked curiously.

"What?"

"What you said, before. On the train. About all the girls liking Ron..."

"Oh, that," Hermione said grinning evilly.

"Were you- Well, is that true?"

Hermione laughed. "No. Not that the girls like you, though." She smiled again, baiting him.

"Well, if they don't like me, then who do they like?" asked Harry in a mockingly haughty voice.

Hermione stuck her nose in the air. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. Spreading gossip is an awful habit."

"I..." began Harry, but whatever he was about to say was cut short by the return of a red haired girl magnet. Or... not so much.

Ron scowled at them. "Bloody good-for-nothing sister. Always stealing my owl." Ron's scowl morphed into a goofy smile. "Now Hermione, what was that you were saying before on the train? About all those girls?"

* * *

Several hours later, Harry and Ron lay in the same curtained beds they had slept in for their previous five years of schooling. Harry was just drifting off to sleep when he was jerked awake by an outburst from nearby.

"Hah!" cried Ron, triumphantly.

"Whaddizit?" asked Harry, trying to prevent himself from getting up and slapping his friend.

"I've just got it! If a guy has big feet, right? That must mean he's good at dancing or something!"

Harry groaned and rolled over, putting a pillow over his ears in an attempt to drown out the ever-oblivious Ron, who continued with his "revelations".

"I figure it's either got to do with dancing, or maybe it means I've got a big heart. Something sappy and girly like that. I- Harry? Harry??"

But Harry had already fallen asleep, leaving Ron to sort out things on his own.