The Seventh Year Soap Opera

The Seventh Year Soap Opera

RECAP OF CHAPTER TEN-Night in the Hospital Wing: Harry tells Ginny he only likes her as a friend, Hermione gives Ron a kiss while he's knocked out, Ron and Hermione go to the kitchens, where Winky reveals Harry's insecurities about the whole "love traingle" thing, and Ron and Hermione have a talk in the darkness of the hospital wing.

Chapter Eleven-...And He Grabbed Her Arm, She Cried, And He Was Left Confused

Ron groaned as bright sunlight poured in from the hospital wing windows, hurting his eyes and interrupting the dream he had been having. It can't be morning already, he thought as he tried to slip back into his dream.

What a great dream it had been too. In the dream, Hermione was his girlfriend. They had been in Arithmancy Tower...

But it was just a dream.

His eyes flickered open. Hermione was standing over him, looking sexier than ever in that pink nightgown, her wild hair dishevelled, her velvet eyes filled with desire...I'm still in the dream, he thought vaguely, rubbing his eyes and opening them again.

Hermione was still there, looking sexier than ever in that pink nightgown, her wild hair dishevelled, her velvet eyes filled with--annoyance?

"Hermione?" he said, sitting up.

"Took you long enough," she muttered. "We've missed breakfast, thanks to you."

"Why didn't you wake me up then?"

"I like watching you sleep," she admitted. "You look peaceful."

Ron was slightly confused. "So how is it my fault we missed breakfast?"

Hermione tapped her foot and crossed her arms. "Why does everything have to turn into an argument with you?" Her eyes flashed.

Ron shrugged. "You accused me of your not being able to eat because I was sleeping. You could have gone down to breakfast on your own, you know."

"I'm sorry. I thought that as a friend, you might enjoy eating breakfast with me. I guess I was wrong." Her voice was tinged with anger and her face was hard

"Then you should have woken me up so we wouldn't miss breakfast!" His head pounded, and in the back of his mind, he thought, It is too early for this. I'm not even out of bed yet.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. Why was Ron always so damn difficult? She couldn't stand the sight of him right now. His stupid freckles were aggravating her. "Argh!" she said, stalking off.

"Where are you going?"

"To get dressed," she snapped. "Is that a crime?"

"I'm sorry I asked. I'm sorry I even woke up this morning," Ron muttered, standing up and running his hands through his hair. He was still dressed in his white T-shirt and khakis, which were incredibly wrinkled, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that today was not going to be a good day.

Madam Pomfrey walked in just then. "Hello, Mr. Weasley. You've come back to us, I see," she said, walking over to a cabinet and removing a small blue bottle.

"Right now I wish I was still unconscious," he said, the argument with Hermione playing over in his mind.

"Don't worry about Miss. Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, handing him the bottle to drink. "Pregnancy brings mood swings."

Ron drank the potion, a burning sensation running down his throat. "I noticed."

"But she was very worried when you fell. Rushed to your side, she did, even though I told her not to move!"

"Yeah, sure," Ron sighed.

"I need to examine you now," Madam Pomfrey said, performing different spells on him to note his improvement. "There's nothing I can do to help that bruise I'm afraid," she said and Ron raised his hand to the huge black bruise on his forehead. Looking in the mirror, he gasped. It was HUGE! Ugly and black. He let out a small cry.

"Nothing?" he said astonished. Madam Pomfrey shook her head sorrowfully as Hermione walked in.

"Where is Harry?" she said curiously. "He said he was going to come."

"I don't know Hermione," snapped Ron, feeling grumpy. She responded by glaring at him. Nope, this is not going to be a good day.

Madam Pomfrey performed the last spell on Ron, making him feel a tingling sensation all over his body that made him shiver. She set down her wand. "You seem fine, Mr. Weasley. How do you feel?"

"My chest feels a little tight, but other than that I'm great. Hermione could do with a Cheering Charm though; she needs it." He stared directly at Hermione while saying this.

Her face slowly screwed up in anger. "Who do you think you are?" she demanded. "If I want a Cheering Charm, I'll ask for one. Stay out of my business!"

Ron looked down at the floor, trying not to laugh. "Sorry for trying to help."

"I don't want you to help me. I want you to leave me alone!"

He looked up and stated the obvious. "Then go away from me."

"I will," she said, her nose in the air. "I need to find Harry anyway."

All the jealousy he had felt toward Harry all these years boiled over inside Ron. "Yeah, you go and do that! Go run to him! He is The Boy Who Lived after all, isn't he? No one can compare to him, can they? Especially poor Ronald Weasley, right? Go! Harry can help you with your problems!"

He immediately regretted the words as soon as he saw the look on Hermione's face--like someone had slapped her. Her eyes had become oddly bright, and her hair seemed to have become limp. She looked like a lost puppy, cold and shivering in the rain. She didn't say a word; she just walked hurriedly out of the room.

Way to go Weasley, Ron thought. "Thanks," he grumbled to a shocked looking Madam Pomfrey before running out of the room after Hermione. She was walking as quickly as she could, her hair flying behind her. The way she was walking would have been rather funny, excluding the circumstances. "Hermione, wait!" he called, running after her and grabbing her arm so that she was forced to face him.

"I have to go to Arithmancy," she lied coldly. "So unhand me and stop pestering me!"

"Hermione, I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry," he uttered frantically.

She looked him dead in the eye and shook her head sadly. "No you're not. You're just sorry I heard you." Ron stared at the ground, absorbing the truth of those words.

He let go of her arm and she stepped away from him, crossed her arms and sighed. "I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore about my Head Girl duties. I need...to drop them and I haven't gotten around to it. Not that I've actually set a good example...getting pregnant. Great role model I am." She seemed to be talking to herself rather than Ron.

"Hermione, I--"

"Sorry I got angry with you Ron. It's just--I have to go." Blinking back tears, she left Ron and headed to Dumbledore's office.

She knew the password to his office, seeing as she was Head Girl, and Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his long white beard touching the piece of parchment he was reading. He seemed to sense her presence as she stepped into the room and looked around at the pictures of sleeping Headmasters. He also seemed to know exactly what she was there for. "You may suspend your position as Head Girl if you wish," he said calmly, not looking up from the piece of parchment.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "Also, I was wondering if you could arrange for my parents and the Weasleys to come to the school so that Ron and I can tell them I'm pregnant. We have put it off long enough and I would like to tell them face to face."

Dumbledore finally looked up from the parchment and inspected her with his twinkling blue eyes. "Indeed, Ms. Granger. I will arrange for them to be here in a week."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you Professor."

Ron and Hermione didn't speak for the rest of the day. The tension between them was so unbelievable it can't be described in words. Harry wondered why this was, but he didn't ask any questions. He knew that if he did so, an argument would most likely break out. They didn't seem mad at each other, just oddly nervous.

Ginny however, was acting normally, as though she had never kissed him at all. Harry had pondered over the kiss all night long. It had felt nice, really nice. But he just wasn't dure how he felt about the freckled redhead. Besides, he had Hermione.

Hermione had told him that her parents, along with the Weasleys, were scheduled to come to the school in a week, so that she and Ron could tell them the "big news." Harry would have to be there as 'the supportive boyfriend.'

He sighed as he exited his Divination class. Why couldn't the three of them just go back to the way things were? Why couldn't the three of them just be friends? Life would be A LOT easier. Just friends. The phrase lingered in his mind and he stopped dead as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Ron, who had been walking behind him, ran right into him, and Harry's glasses fell off. Hermione rushed out of sight.

"What's wrong mate?" said Ron, picking up the glasses and staring at Harry, who had just had the biggest revelation of his life. Sudden, yes--but right. Right. He knew exactly what he wanted: he wanted the three of them to be just friends. Well, perhaps that wasn't all he wanted...

The first true smile that he had smiled in days broke out across his face as he put his glasses on his face. Ron was staring at him, looking puzzled. "I've just realized something," Harry said and he walked off. Ron whistled and scratched his head, then decided he needed to fly.

************************************************************************

Ginny was sitting on the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room reading Witch Weekly. It was her favorite magazine and she could see herself, years from now, as the magazine's editor. Ginny sucked on her sugarquill happily, seeing herself in formfitting black robes, her hair wavy and shoulder length, wearing expensive jewelry and relaxing in an easy chair. First, she would just be a reporter and submit interesting, but true, articles for the public to read. That would be fun; she loved to write. Writing was a stress reliever for her, as well as reading. Literature and art could express more than a thousand words. Then, she would climb slowly through the ranks and become editor some day.

Ginny also imagined being the mother of three children. Three children with fiery red hair, and Harry's brilliant eyes. Harry would be a famous Quidditch star (but then retire to be an Auror in older age) and he would ride on his broomstick with his children every night. Then, once the children were asleep, Ginny would make tea. Harry would walk in and they's sit at the kitchen table, sipping the tea slowly, savoring the taste. They would talk about their days and then have a huge, romantic snogging session in the living room afterwards.

She smiled at what she knew would never happen, and finished her sugarquill, feeling a little depressed, as she always did when thinking about her big dreams. Sighing slightly, she engrossed herself in her magazine once more and turned back to the quiz that she had finished half-way before drifting into her thoughts. How Well Do You Know Your Crush? was the name of the quiz. She had answered three questions so far:

1. What is his full name? Harry James Potter

2. When is his birthday? July 31st

3. What does he do in his free time? Plays Quidditch, hangs around with Ron and Hermione, thinks about other people's problems

Question number four read: What are his achievements? Ginny laughed. He's only saved the world from the deadliest wizard Earth has seen. Feeling ridiculous for resorting to such petty measures, Ginny flipped the page of the magazine and sighed as she found herself staring at Harry's picture and an article titled, Don't You Just Love Him? Ginny nodded, and then said, "Can't they just leave him alone?"

She flipped the page and absorbed herself into an interesting article. Harry walked into the room just then, looking happy about something. Ginny looked up immediately, but casually lowered her gaze back to the magazine, so she wouldn't seem too eager to see him. "Ginny?" he said.

Could it be? Was he calling her name? The Boy Who Lived, The Boy She Loved, calling her name? Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, no doubt jumping for joy. Her palms began to sweat and she knew a smile broke out across her face.

But then she was brought back down to Earth. Harry was with Hermione, someone far greater than she. Hermione was perfect for him, she realized. She could never compare with someone like her. She was just plain old Ginny Weasley, Ron's baby sister. Harry Potter would never see herself as anything more than that, and even though that sad fact made her angry, she supposed she would have to deal with it. There was no possibility whatsoever that Harry Potter loved her. The thought angered her.

"Ginny?" Harry said again.

"What?" she snapped. Harry Potter didn't love her and it was tearing her apart.

"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry asked cautiously, sitting down beside her on the sofa. He saw her wince and scoot away from him, though it was rather difficult to do, considering she was sitting at the end of the sofa.

"Peachy," said Ginny nastily, standing up swiftly from the couch, Witch Weekly clutched in hand. Why couldn't she have what she wanted?

His green eyes bored into her soul, staring at her with concern. Ginny turned to walk away, but Harry had risen from the couch and grabbed her arm. The touch that would normally cause Ginny to melt, to die of electrical thought, now fueled her anger.

Doesn't he realize he's better off with me? Me? Hasn't he figured it out?

She recoiled at his touch. "Get off me!" she said shrilly, but he didn't her go.

"Tell me what's wrong," said Harry

"You wouldn't understand," Ginny said, bowing her head. Tears prickled in her eyes and with those tears she blinked away all of her childish dreams of the life they would never share together. She was so stupid to ever dream of things like that.

"You can talk to me Ginny," Harry said, worry etched in his face.

Ginny shook her head furiously. "No," she moaned. "No. Please, just let me go." Her tears startled Harry and he wanted more than anything to comfort her, but he just did as she said and let go of her arm. She ran up to her dormitory without another word.

Harry stood alone in the common room, wondering what the hell had just happened. He frowned and sunk onto the common room couch, Ginny's sobs sounding from the girl's dormitory.

So much for telling the one you love that you love them, he thought.