A New Argument

Once again Harry was sitting in his favorite arm chair, right up next to the Gryffindor fire, listening to his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger bicker about who knows what. However loud they were being at the moment, he had managed to stop listening to them long, long ago. Nevertheless, he was too exhausted to ignore them anymore. He began listening.

Hermione was hollering at Ron, "WHAT does it even MATTER that he wants me to come visit him? Never mind the fact that I DON'T EVEN WANT TO GO!"

"Ah," thought Harry, the old Viktor argument. Nothing new here.

Ron's ears were about as red as Harry had ever seen them when he replied, screaming, "It MATTERS, Hermione, whether you see it or not! Just because you uhm, 'don't have any interest in him', so you say, doesn't mean he feels so extraordinarily platonic!"

"You know what, Ron? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SO CONCERNED WITH IT? I don't see Harry having any kind of issues of it do you, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, seeing as he couldn't care less if Victor invited Hermione to stay with him, especially since she wasn't even accepting the invitation, but he was quickly cut off by Hermione, who apparently hadn't been looking for a verbal confirmation from him. He should have known.

"If he's alright with it, why shouldn't you be?"

"WHY? WHY?" screamed Ron, who was looking furious. Ron began thinking quickly to himself. He had learned, the hard way, that this same point of argument over and over again never got him anywhere, and if he didn't spell it out for her real soon, she would just think of him as her stupid, jealous, meddlesome friend. And nothing more. Preparing himself for the worst, he sucked in his breath, and began the moment that would define him as a true, courageous Gryffindor for the rest of his life.

"BECAUSE, Hermione. Haven't you seen? Harry doesn't feel the same way about you that I do." He said the last bit quieter than he had spoken in the last twenty minutes of their row.

"And what's that supposed to mean, Ronald?" asked Hermione, rolling her eyes, wondering where the hell Ron was going with this. They had been having the same old argument for years, and he had never said anything like this.

"Well," he began, slowly walking closer to her with every word, "his morning doesn't get brighter, just from a simple hello from you. His favorite sound in the whole entire world isn't your laugh. When he sits next to you, being so close to him that he can almost touch you isn't all he can possibly think about. When you walk into a room, his heart doesn't stop beating. Every single time you answer a question right in class, or stand up to Malfoy, he isn't immensely proud of you. When he looks at you, he doesn't find it impossible to ever look away. When your hands touch, he doesn't feel electricity shooting up his arm. When he looks you in the eyes, he doesn't forget all about his insecurities, his fears, or Voldemort, and feel that all is right with the world. He doesn't secretly love fighting with you, because it gives him the chance to make you notice him. When he hears Victor mentioned, or for that matter any other guy who has interest in you, he isn't crushed with jealousy, all the while knowing he will never be good enough for you." He was now just a few inches from her, and her eyes were welling up with tears, but he had to finish.

"And he hasn't waited, since the very first day he met you on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago... to do this." And he looked into her eyes, and slowly took her face into his hands, and kissed her.

They pulled apart after a few, wonderful seconds.

She stared at him, awestruck and smiling, as he told her one last thing.

"He isn't in love with you...but I am."

She smiled, took his hand, and walked him out of the common room, amidst cheers from their fellow Gryffindor, dually grateful for the uniting of two people who couldn't be more perfect for each other...and the quiet their absence now left them with.

Fin