The Other Side of the Sky

The Other Side of the Sky

The first thing he should do would be to find someone in Ravenclaw and ask them. Of course, the only person he knew well (or as well as he preferred) was Luna, which left him standing in the entrance to the Great Hall for quite some time as he stared at the students inside who were quickly downing a last-minute meal. The Ravenclaw table was nearly vacant, those who were still munching were people he had no idea even attended Hogwarts, and he couldn't remember where their common room was to track down someone with whom he was even remotely aquatinted.

With an irritated sigh, he turned away, drawing his gaze through the giant room in hopes of finding someone who might be able to tell him where to start looking. Then again, once he had anyone find out that the purpose of this adventure was to reunite lost possessions with a particularly unpopular student, it was doubtful many would know who he was talking about, much less how they could help. He was beginning to think this was going to be much harder than he anticipated when he turned around and walked straight into another student.

The force of the unexpected collision sent the poor victim sprawling on her back on the hard ground, protesting in incomplete stutters as she struggled to get a hold of herself.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized automatically, then stopped, staring.

Padma Patel, upon recognizing him immediately, glared up at him, making a "tiff" sound as though that was as much acknowledgement she was willing to give of his existence. He winced slightly. Then with a sigh, he offered his hand to help her up.

She frowned at his outstretched arm, lip curled in disapproval.

"Well, that's two years late, don't you think?"

"Don't you think it's stupid to be holding a two-year long grudge?" he countered in his defense.

"I think it's perfectly reasonable considering the way you treated me."

"Well, I assure you I will not be letting Harry fix me up with anyone again for as long as I live."

She narrowed her eyes, studying his annoyed face, and finally took his hand. Once she was on her feet, she let go, dusting her robes and preparing to walk right past him without another word and straight into the Great Hall. Then he remembered:

"You're in Ravenclaw!"

Padma threw him a look.

"Oh, good, Ron, now tell me: Did Hermione let you know or did you recall that all on your own?"

"As a matter of fact, I-," then he stopped suddenly. "Look, can we please try and get past the Yule Ball for a minute? This is important."

"It will never fail to amaze me exactly how insensitive you can be."

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. You're right. I'm a complete insult. We've established that. Now can I please ask you something?"

Padma sighed dramatically, folding her arms over her chest as she turned to face him. Taking her lack of response as a cue to continue, he went on hurriedly, purposely speaking quickly so as to avoid the torture that was to be conversing with Padma Patel with the memory of their fourth year hanging over his head. All right, he'd admit it, it wasn't right the way he'd acted towards her, but he'd been...distracted. But that wasn't the point right now, so it was best to forget the past and keep its events where they belonged. Besides, she'd had a good time with that Beauxbatons boy anyway. About as good as Hermione had with Krum, no doubt, he thought darkly. Then, remembering what was supposed to be his priority tonight, he eased his fingers out of the fists he'd been clenching together while thinking about that infamous Christmas night and tried to focus.

"I'm looking for something, and it might be in the Ravenclaw common room, so I was wondering if you could possibly get it for me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It would be helpful to clarify that a bit, if you would."

"Right. Okay, well, Luna Lovegood's bag is missing and I was wondering if you'd seen her things."

Her face changed immediately.

"Luna? As in Loony Lovegood?" she repeated in disbelief.

He was getting annoyed again, and he warily glanced inside the Great Hall to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Just in case, he stepped out of the doorway and into the shadows of the hall, and to his vague surprise, Padma followed him. He'd thought (especially after that response) that she'd be utterly disinterested in helping him.

"What on earth are you doing with her? She's so..." she left the sentence to be completed by his imagination, and though he had several words that could have filled the blank quite nicely, he ignored it.

"She's not that bad," he defended lamely.

Padma stared at him.

"Well, that is, she's a friend," he stated determinedly. "And I want to help her. I promised. And she needs her books."

She kept staring.

He sighed. "Look, if you don't want to help, just say so. I can't see into your mind or anything... And I can't afford to be wasting anymore time. Clearly, you aren't interested, so I'll just leave you to your dinner-,"

"Wait," she called after him, just as he was about to walk away. He looked back, eyebrow arched. She pursed her lips, hesitating, and then said in rather big rush, "I can look around the common room if you like. I'm sure someone will have seen something, but I can't promise that anything will come up."

He smiled.

"Thanks, Padma."

She shifted her feet uncomfortably, his pleasure in her change of mind vaguely unnerving her when she took into context their relationship, or lack thereof.

"Well, it's the least I can do," she muttered offhandedly, turning away. She tired thinking of something else to say, and finally came up with, "Whatever happened to the DA meetings? My sister says that Harry won't talk about them anymore."

Ron shrugged. "Guess you'll have to ask someone else on that one."

"You were pretty good after all those practices," she pointed out innocently. When his ears hinted pink, she quickly mumbled a good-bye and tried to walk away, but he interrupted:

"It was turquoise."

Padma glanced at him curiously.

He shrugged, trying to be indifferently making a point.

"Your dress robes," he added casually. "They were turquoise. And it looked...nice. You looked nice."

She offered a tiny smile, still a little embarrassed by the whole unexpected situation. "Well, listen, I'm going to have dinner, but afterwards I will help you. Where should I meet you if I find anything?"

He blinked. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Ah...I guess anywhere..."

She wrinkled her nose, dropping her voice. "No offense or anything, but I'd rather not have this noble deed of humanity be praised throughout the school."

He understood, though something stirred in him against it. But he ignored the feeling and nodded at her.

"So, I'll meet you early tomorrow morning in the library?" she suggested. "Before breakfast and classes, of course."

He shrugged. "Works for me."

"If I find anything," she quickly added.

"How will I know if you'll come or not, then?" he asked suddenly, frowning. He wasn't going to spend the whole morning in the library.

"You'll just have to wait," she replied matter-of-factly.

He smirked. "You'll never let the Yule Ball go, will you?"

But Padma just smiled.

"I think it's nice of you to care this much about a friend," she commented. The compliment came so suddenly that he just stared at her, and so she went on with her goodnight: "I'll see you tomorrow, Ron," she nodded politely at him, disappearing into the Great Hall.

Ron sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes.

Well, he thought, if she was going to take care of that part, then he should... What should I do now? Maybe he should just wait until he talked to Padma the next morning. There was no where he could think of looking besides the Ravenclaw common room, at least no where to begin. It would only be after she explained what she had found out that he could really get the searching completed. With any luck, most of Luna's possessions were in the common room. Of course, he highly doubted that things would be that easy.

The old feeling of uselessness started bothering him again, and with another sigh, he headed back to his own common room, deciding to wait until morning before starting anything else.

Once inside, he saw that everyone- including Hermione- had gone up to bed. He felt bad, recalling their last conversation. Maybe he should apologize... Well, that could wait until morning, too, I guess, he thought as he gazed around the almost empty common room. Then he spotted his little sister tucked into an armchair by the fire, reading The Quibbler. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her, curled up like a cat, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as her eyes moved back and forth across the pages. He almost didn't want to interrupt her, but he knew she'd probably want to hear about Luna, so he stepped forward.

"Hey," he greeted, sitting down in the chair opposite of her.

Ginny looked up with a start, blinking. "Oh, Ron," she sat back, relieved. "You startled me."

"Sorry." He glanced at the magazine. "Fascinating read?"

She smiled.

"You know, Ron, you should really give this more credit. There are a lot of interesting articles in here. And it helped our cause, didn't it?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm just teasing." He leaned back, slouching tiredly. "So what're you reading anyway?"

"It's something Luna wrote."

Ron perked up.

"I didn't know she could write."

"Her dad is the editor, remember?"

"Oh, right...Well?"

"Well, what?" she asked innocently.

"Well, what's it say? What'd she write?"

"It's something about a book an author published. It's a review on it."

"Oh."

"Something wrong?" Ginny looked at him with an amused smile, as if she knew exactly what was running through his mind. He hated it when she did that. He was supposed to be the older one.

"Nothing. I just thought she'd write something...if she were to write that is...I figure it'd do something with her imaginary creature fascination."

"They're not all imaginary," she replied immediately, somewhat offended.

Ron stared at her.

"Don't tell me you actually believe all of that," he said in awe. "Ginny, I think you might be spending too much time reading that magazine."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he was suddenly struck by how much that look resembled all the times Mum got mad at him. He very nearly paled at the similarity, shivering.

"I'll read what I want and I don't need your approval," she snapped nastily.

He backed off.

"All right. Just calm down, will you?"

Ginny blinked, staring at him, and then sighed, lowering the magazine to her lap. She rubbed her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to get upset."

"It's okay," he waved it aside, blaming it on the late night. Remembering that fact, she yawned and sighed. He saw her tiredness and suggested she go to bed, but she just shook her head.

"I couldn't, not with Luna sick. I feel terrible about it, Ron. I should have noticed something."

"There was nothing you could have known, much less done," he consoled.

"Maybe not," she mumbled back, "but I'd like to think there's something I can still do."

And that reminded him of what Luna had asked him to do. He considered for a moment telling Ginny; he'd be able to recruit some help if he let her know. But then, to his surprise, a part of him didn't want her to know. Luna had told him specifically. She said he was trustworthy, hadn't she? So she must see something in him that he had started to lose sight of. Maybe that was why this was beginning to mean so much to him.

"Harry's in the Infirmary," Ginny stated suddenly. Ron only grunted in response. She looked at him. "Oh, right, you know already. Well, he has to spend the night there."

He glanced up, curious.

"Why?"

His sister shrugged. "Apparently, Madame Pomfrey didn't have time to prepare him the potion he needed. I guess it takes a while to brew or something. She seemed a bit distracted the whole time we were there anyway. Still, Harry is stuck there tonight, but he promised he'd keep an eye on Luna for me. I'm going to go visit her first thing tomorrow morning."

He said nothing in reply, frowning at the fireplace. Well...if Harry is watching her, I guess nothing else will happen. Luna will probably ask him to help with finding her things, he realized suddenly. His frown deepened. That would make him useless again. He is the Seeker, he noted reluctantly. And then he caught himself, surprised. Was he actually feeling upset by this whole thing? Of course, I'm not bothered. It's Luna we're talking about...

Still. She asked me first.

"Ron!"

He blinked, looking up to see Ginny frowning at him.

"What's the matter with you? I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes. Are you okay?"

"Er- yeah. I'm fine."

She studied him closely.

"Listen, I'm fine," he repeated firmly. "I was just...thinking. Sorry I fazed out for a while. I didn't mean to ignore you or anything."

"I know," she nodded understandingly. "Do you want to tell me what's going on? You look upset."

"Nothing's wrong, I swear," he added to reassure her. "Really, I mean it. I'm all right. Just...tired."

"Did you even have dinner?"

"No, he didn't." Both Weasley siblings turned in their chairs to see Hermione standing at the foot of the girls' dormitories, watching them with a serious look on her face. She smiled lightly when they caught her gaze, however. It faded just slightly. "Ron, can I talk to you?"

He shrugged, looking away and staring at the fireplace again, not really sure why he didn't want to face her at the moment. He heard some movement and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny excuse herself to bed, disappearing up the staircase that Hermione had just descended. Now she walked towards him, taking the Quibbler that Ginny had left in the armchair out of the seat before sitting down. She held the magazine in her hands, rolling it absentmindedly. It was a few moments before she said anything.

"Look, Ron, I'm not exactly sure if we had a fight," she began, choosing her words carefully, "but if we did, I'm sorry."

He shook his head, still looking into the flames.

"It's not your fault," he muttered.

"Well...then, will you tell me what's bothering you?" she asked hopefully.

He sighed.

"Nothing."

"Ron, it's okay. I won't tell anyone, I promise-,"

"Would you tell Harry?"

She stared at him, pausing in her magazine-rolling as she frowned at him.

"Not if you don't want me to," she replied.

He sat back in his chair, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You've been acting different lately. It's like...like you don't want to be around us anymore..."

"I need some time to think by myself."

"Well, that's what Harry wants, too," Hermione said. "What am I going to do if you both want that at the same time?"

Ron suddenly looked up at her, Snape's words echoing in his mind again.

"Why are we talking about Harry?"

She opened her mouth, confused, and then closed it. Before her surprise could let her say anything more, he went on, almost in an accusing tone.

"I thought you wanted to talk about what was bothering me."

"Well, I do, Ron," she insisted, "but how can I if you won't tell me what's wrong? Please, I just want to help. Especially now, Ron, we should all be together, not separated. It's bad enough that Harry's so stuck on not talking; it took me weeks to get him to open up just a little. And now you... If you two keep acting this way, how can we-?"

"You're doing it again," he interrupted.

"Doing what? I'm just pointing out that both of you refuse to admit you have a problem, and you won't-,"

"Doing that, Hermione!" he said angrily, on his feet and standing over her. "Stop comparing us! We don't have the same problems!"

"I- I know that-," she stammered anxiously, forehead creased.

"You can't treat us the same way! We're different!"

"I know- I just want to understand-,"

"You don't understand!"

"But I want to, Ron!" she insisted desperately. "I do! If you will just tell me-,"

"I can't!" he admitted finally stalking to the other side of the empty room. She started to rise from her own chair, leaving the magazine on the table, but he spun around suddenly, "I can't talk when I don't know who to trust!"

Even from where he stood, he could tell how crushed she was to hear him say that. Her face crumpled, and she sat back in the chair, her hands gripping the arms as she sank into the cushions, face turned away from him. For a long time, he just stood there, breathing hard to regain control after that shouting, and then his shoulders slumped and a wave of fatigue threatened his ability to stand on his own two legs.

"Hermione..." he began.

"Don't, Ron," she interrupted him softly. He could hear her voice trembling though her face remained hidden. "I think I understand enough."

He felt rotten.

Why had he said all that? He hadn't planned on it. He hadn't planned on any of this...

Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere except the direction of the fireplace.

"That's not what I meant."

She said nothing.

"I just...Everything that's happened...I don't know if...I-I'm trying to figure this out myself," he stammered finally, knowing it sounded lame. But he didn't know if he could tell her how he felt- how he felt about them, about her, about all the thoughts that had been running through his mind ever since Harry became a focus of concern in her life. He crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on his bottom lip with worry. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Well, I'm not."

He stared at her.

"What?"

She was standing, wiping her face with her hand, and trying to appear all right. "I'm not sorry about what happened," she repeated firmly. He was confused, and so she went on in an attempt to clear it all up. "It took some coaxing, but now you know what the problem is. Maybe this will help you solve it," she suggested, though her tone of voice sounded funny. He was still staring at her incredulously.

"But..."

"Ron, I will understand if you need your space. I promise not to get in the way and to respect your decision. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed."

He stared after her, not exactly sure what just happened, but knowing somehow that he couldn't it end just yet. So he called after her, and she stopped, looking back at him calmly. He studied her face, trying to picture what she must be going through, to have her best friends pushing the world away and being helpless to stop it. It made him want to drop everything and tell her it was all just a joke, that none of it was true, that this was all just a bad dream. But dreams weren't bad. And this was real. As much as he wanted to make her happy again, he just couldn't. Not yet. And that made it hurt all the more, especially when she looked at him like that.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I told you not to be."

"That doesn't change the fact that I am."

"You know," she shook her head, "I think this might actually be good for all of us." She shrugged, laughing a little as if in disbelief. "Maybe it's just what we three need."

He looked pained, wanting to say something.

"And don't worry, Ron, I won't tell Harry." Now her voice was breaking, and he knew she was going to cry. He watched her sadly, realizing what he'd been trying to ignore for a long time:

"You care for him...don't you?"

"Of course I care for him," she replied breathlessly. "But that doesn't mean I care for him any more or less than you."

He didn't know what he was feeling, but it turned his world into a suffocating room, though everything around him seemed to stretch into a blank and empty forever.

"No more and no less," he repeated with his voice hollow. He shut his eyes for a moment, drawing in his breath, and when he opened them again, she was still looking at him. "So, it's equal then, Hermione?"

She stared. "What are you saying, Ron?" she asked suddenly, eyes widening just a bit.

He shook his head, looking away.

"Nothing."

"Ron-,"

"Nothing," he repeated forcefully, and she silenced herself immediately. He smiled in a distracted way, determined not to look at her. "It's always been nothing..." he murmured, staring into the fire again. It was a long time before he heard her walk away, and a door shut to signal her exit.

He cast a hand over his face tiredly, still standing in the middle of the dimly lit room, gazing around.

So it is true.

Three is a crowd.

Even in a room as empty as this, it feels crowded.