Among The Owls

Ron was bored. He'd been bored before, but this past week he'd truly learned to sympathise with the expression "bored to tears". Although, he admitted, boredom probably wasn't his main motivation for the angry tears he could feel threatening to spill over at any moment. It all comes back to Harry, thought Ron.

It wasn't that Ron didn't like Harry. Quite the opposite, in fact, he couldn't bear to think what life would be like without him. However, the fact remained that when you were Harry Potter's best friend, you spent a lot of time sitting around in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. Whether he was playing a straightforward game of Quidditch, or doing battle with the most evil wizard ever to have lived, Harry seemed to attract danger from all directions, and Ron was usually two steps behind, the ever-faithful sidekick.

Ok, so the fact that Harry gets hurt a lot isn't exactly something to be jealous about, mused Ron, but honestly, you'd think he'd learn to be a little more careful. And, he added as an afterthought, a little more awake. On this particular occasion, the cause of Harry's injuries was neither glorious nor praise-worthy. On the contrary, Ron chuckled softly to himself, it was all rather humorous if you stopped to think about it.

***

It had started out as a quite an unremarkable Transfiguration class. McGonagall had made them copy out nearly two rolls of parchment on the difficulties of transplicing animals of conflicting species.

"One should always remember to ensure that the subjects chosen for transplicing are of approximately equal size. Keep in mind the Russian wizard Manniakopf, who made the unfortunate mistake of attempting to transplice an elephant with a mouse, the latter finding itself spliced to the underside of the former's foot, resulting in an experience unpleasant for all concerned..."

Transplicing, in layman's terms, was the art of magically squishing together two animals in the hope of getting one new (and somewhat confused) animal at the end of the process. The students were asked to divide into groups and were given a pair of animals to practice on. Ron, Hermione and Harry worked with Neville, and were asked to transplice a dog and a cat, the desired result being a "dat." Hermione, as usual, performed the charm perfectly, and they were left with a seamless dat long before any other group had even gotten around to pulling out their wands. Professor McGonagall was just complimenting them on their handiwork when Neville, who had been prodding the dat with his wand, shrieked and scrambled backwards, tripping over himself in his hurry to get as far away as possible, and with just cause. Somehow, Neville had unwittingly performed some sort of variation on an engorgement charm, and instead of an innocent little dat, there was now a seething mass of fur, claws and teeth ripping its way across the room. Instead of a dat, there was now a... a... something that could best be described as a wolf crossed with a cougar, and it was no more pleased with the situation than any of the terrified students running from it. In the frantic classroom, the creature's acute senses couldn't tell one stinking screaming fleeing piece of meat from another, and it panicked. It lunged, claws out and teeth bared, at the closest thing it could see - which just so happened to be a rather bewildered Harry. Suddenly oblivious to the chaos surrounding him, Ron whipped out his wand and shouted "Stupefy!" at the top of his lungs. The creature stopped mid-slash, and slumped, limp and unconscious, onto Harry, who had also unfortunately been hit by a stunning spell, and was pinned beneath it, bleeding profusely from several long ragged gashes that criss-crossed his body.

"Strange," Ron said to himself, a puzzled look on his face, "that shouldn't have been powerful enough to completely knock that thing out, not to mention Harry too."

"It wasn't," said someone sheepishly. Ron turned around to see Hermione and Professor McGonagall standing behind him, wands in their hands. "I believe we may have overdone things just a little."

***

A statement that was, Ron considered, rather unnecessary, as Harry's hair was still standing on end, even now, four days later in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had, of course, been able to magically heal Harry's flesh wounds quite easily. However, as the stunning charm Professor McGonagall had used was tailored specifically for magical creatures, the effects were taking their time to wear off, leaving Harry thoroughly unconscious for days on end. As usual, Ron and Hermione had been coming to see him every chance they had, though neither of them were exactly sure why, as Harry did nothing but sleep anyway, and he probably had no idea that they were even there.

Ron thought back to a few days ago. He had been hanging around with Hermione, and despite Harry's absence, he was actually enjoying himself (or maybe that was more because of Harry's absence, thought Ron with a grin). He could remember sitting around with Hermione, just talking, or maybe playing a game of wizard chess, (with him occasionally letting her win of course,) or doing anything, really. It was all fun with Hermione. Yes, he grudgingly admitted to himself, even homework was almost bearable when Hermione was there to help. He loved just being with her, making her laugh, and (when he thought Hermione wasn't looking,) stealing glances at that gorgeous face of hers that she always kept so skillfully hidden behind a mass of electrified hair that seemed to have a life all of its own. He loved to tease her, to incense her to the point when she'd flick her hair in frustration and glare in mock-fury out of the window or into the fire, while trying desperately to keep a straight face. It was even better when she would try to stare him down, giving him an excellent excuse to openly gaze right into her eyes until she gave in.

But Ron had hardly spoken to Hermione for days now, save for the occasional frosty "Hello" when it was absolutely unavoidable. Everything had changed since that stupid bloody fight.

***

It had only happened two days ago, and Ron thought it was already worse than when he had accused Crookshanks of eating Scabbers, or when Hermione had told McGonagall about the Firebolt, and those fights had lasted for ages!

He and Hermione had been going through their homework while visiting Harry. Ron had said something, (he couldn't recall exactly what, but it was probably something derogatory about some teacher or other,) which had made Hermione spit back some searing comment in defense, which he had, stupidly, returned post haste. This had gone on for quite a while, growing steadily louder and more and more aggressive, until it had reached the point where they had both been thrown out by a furious Madam Pomfrey for disrupting the peace. Their pointless bickering had continued all the way back to the Gryffindor common room and ("Sassafras!") through the portrait hole. Fred and George had shot each other a knowing look and tried to ease the tension by getting them involved in a game of exploding snap. The game however, abruptly ended when Hermione, who had been shuffling at the time, suddenly made an exasperated noise and jumped to her feet, shouting "Honestly, Ron!". Hermione violently dumped the whole pack over Ron's head, (the resulting explosions had left him deaf for several hours) before she burst into tears and ran up to her dormitory, hands over her face and hair streaming behind her. Ron really couldn't see why - she had won the argument, hadn't she?

***

So now there was a very bored, confused, miserable Ron sitting beside a slumbering Harry (who was drooling a little from the corner of his mouth, Ron noted. Only human after all). Ron, deciding he had stayed for long enough, (not that it really mattered anyway,) got up and spoke to Harry.

"Bugger this! Sorry Harry, but you know, you're not the most entertaining of hosts, and I've got a heap of homework to get through for Transfiguration - McGonagall's been giving us nothing but theory work since that thing attacked you, I think she's half scared to death it'll happen again. Honestly, you'd think you could've ducked, you're good enough at dodging bludgers. So anyway, thanks to your marvelous feat of stupidity, we've all got rolls of parchment on "The Mortal Dangers of Transplicing" coming out of our ah... I'd better go, Harry, Madam Pomfrey's seen me talking to you and she looks like she's going to transplice me with a Manticore if I don't stop. See you tomorrow then. Bye Harry!"

Ron knew he tended to babble when he was talking to Harry like this, and he knew Harry couldn't hear him, but he felt like he couldn't leave without saying anything. He wondered briefly whether muggles had problems like these - Should I bother talking to my practically dead friend if I don't even know whether or not he can hear me? He thought of asking his dad. He would probably know, and if not then he'd take great pleasure in personally finding out.

Yes, that's what he would do; he'd send an owl to his parents. He hadn't written to them in ages, and he could tell them what was going on with Harry. Maybe I could even ask mum if she has any idea what Hermione's making such a fuss about - whether it might just be that time of month, and I should just leave her alone, or maybe...

Ron wandered along the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower, trying very hard not to think about Hermione.

***

A few minutes later, Ron stood in the doorway of the Hogwarts Owlery, a short, sealed roll of parchment in the deep pocket of his robes. Ron didn't mind the Owlery, though most students avoided it at all costs, largely due to the general repulsiveness of the place. Ron looked pensively down at the floor. While he didn't care to examine them in great detail, he really wasn't bothered by the little heaps of owl "presents" that were caked in foot-thick deposits under the perches and streaked down the tower walls like modern art gone terribly wrong. He had found worse mess in the twins' bedroom last summer, and at least he knew that these piles of droppings weren't going to leap off the floor and spontaneously squish themselves into his hair. Ron shuddered at the memory of what was undoubtedly the most wrong thing that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had ever dared to produce - dungbombs enchanted with an advanced heat-seeking charm, so that even the little splattery bits that missed the first time came back and pelted your face. But in the quiet orange light that was pouring through the windows along the walls of the tall perch-riddled spire that was Hogwarts Owlery, even the floor looked almost... not disgusting. Almost.

Ron pulled his wand from his pocket and said "Accio Pig." then braced himself and held out his hand like a catcher's mitt. A few seconds later, Pig, Ron's tiny owl, smacked into his hand, making a sound like the air being punched out of a big, fluffy pillow. Pig swiftly recovered, and bounced up Ron's left arm, across his shoulders, and down his right arm before fluttering off to a perch a few feet away. Ron laughed - this was Pig's favourite trick, and it had taken three boxes of Eeylop's Exquisite Imported Owl Itsy-Bitsies and several weeks before Pig had really gotten the hang of it.

"Okay, okay, I'm here. Hello Pig - missed me?" Ron put a finger under each of the tiny owl's feathery wings and Pig flapped, puffed up his feathers and bobbed up and down - the result of another box and a half of Itsy-Bitsies. Ron smiled fondly at the fluffy little puff sitting on the perch, and put a hand into his pocket, pulling out his letter, some soft ribbon, and a few Itsy-Bitsies as a treat for Pig. He tied the letter just above Pig's tiny little talons, cast a quick feather-light charm on it so the little owl wouldn't have to fly lop-sided, and watched as Pig flew out of a high window. Ron continued to stare up through the tower, running his eyes over hundreds of owls, absent-mindedly searching out Hedwig, until one of the majestic birds caught his attention. The biggest owl he had ever seen was perched at the very top of the towering Owlery roof. It was jet black, except for it's head, which was a rich golden-brown colour. Woah, that is one wicked owl! thought Ron. I have to see that thing up close!

Ron slowly and carefully ascended the tower, hovering on the old and battered broom that was kept in the owlery in case a student couldn't spot their owl from the ground. He was about two storeys up the tower before he realised that the thing he had thought was an owl was actually... a student!? A Gryffindor too, judging by the red and gold trimmings on the robes. Rising higher, he could see that what he had thought was thick brown plumage was in fact hair... beautiful, wonderful, cascading chestnut hair...

Hermione.

She was sitting on the trapeze perch that hung from the Owlery roof's apex. He could see from where he was that it had been thoroughly cleaned, most probably with a deft wave of Hermione's wand and an impeccably cast Scourgifying spell. Ron eased back on the broom, and silently hovered upwards, leveling the broom handle with the trapeze. Looking at Hermione's down-turned face, Ron could see that she'd been crying. Even though her eyes were closed, he could see that they were red and puffy. As Ron watched, her eyes flickered, and a large tear fell softly from her thick brown lashes and slid softly down a cheek that was still wet from the tears that had come before it. He had never seen anything so sad, and it terrified him to know that he was the reason for it. Instinctively, he reached out a hand and cupped Hermione's face, rubbing his thumb over her wet cheek and marveling at it's softness and warmth.

Hermione drew a sharp, shuddering breath and let out a terrified whimper. Her eyes burst open, wide with panic at being discovered, and she focused dazedly on Ron. She whispered "Oh no!" and closed her eyes tight, squinching her face up in an expression of bitter, angry pain.

"No!" She was sobbing now, but still trying to hold it in. "Why!? Why do you have to do this to me!? I hate you, why do you keep doing this!? Leave me alone!!!"

"Hermione..." he started, nudging the broom closer still. He reached out to her...

"NO! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Hermione flailed wildly, trying to escape him. She lost her balance, and Ron only just managed to stop her from falling by clamping his knees around the broomstick and throwing his arms around her. He held her arms pinned firmly to her sides, trying to calm her down, and she writhed in fury until, exhausted, she slumped forward onto his chest and began sobbing openly into his shoulder. Ron sat awkwardly for a moment, then settled one of his arms around her back and curled the other around her head, and rocked her gently, making soothing shhhh noises while she cried.

***

Eventually, Hermione's wrenching sobs faded to quiet sniffles, and she shifted slightly against Ron's body. He looked down and saw that she had turned her face up to his and was gazing distractedly up at him with still glassy eyes, and unusually pink skin that made her look suspiciously as though she were blushing (and Ron knew all about blushing, having had ample experience in such matters).

Hermione abruptly pulled herself upright and moved her hand from where she had unconsciously clutched it to his chest as she had cried. He watched, bewildered, as she reached up and caressed his face, running her fingertips over his lightly freckled skin. Her warm, chocolate eyes stared brazenly, and she seemed to be searching for something hidden in the brilliant blueness of his eyes. Ron raised a hand to cover hers, entranced by the way her fingers seemed to leave a tingling trail across his face and his mind.

Reluctantly, Ron laced his fingers with Hermione's and removed her hand. He needed a clear head for what he was about to say. He took a calming breath and opened his mouth. Here goes... Oh, I'm going to sound like an idiot...

"Hermione, there's something I want to... something I need to say to you. About all that stuff that I said the other day... I... Hermione, I didn't mean it, I would never, never want to deliberately make you feel like this, or make you cry, or make you... hate me, or... or hurt you in any way. I don't know why I always have to open my stupid mouth and say stuff that I don't ever really mean... not to you Herm-own-ninny." He paused and smiled nervously at her, hoping to lighten the mood a little by pronouncing her name the ridiculous way that Viktor Krum had. She smiled and laughed faintly, and he continued.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is... well, first of all that I'm sorry, for all the daft things I say to you, but Hermione... I don't want things to go back to the way they were before. I don't want to be friends..." Hermione's eyes widened and she started to shake her head, misinterpreting his words. Ron chuckled, and put a reassuring arm on her shoulder. "No! No, that's not what I meant! Oh bugger, I'm doing it again... Hermione..." Ron bit his lip, searching vainly for words that wouldn't sound stupid, or childish, or trivial.

"Hermione... you will always be my friend, always. But I don't want to be just friends... It's like... Harry and me, we're great friends, but it's not like I want to run up to him and start snogging him or anything, but with you... Oh... umm...." Ron stopped, and pulled himself away from her, realising that he had just told Hermione that her wanted to... to... and with her... and... Oh dear...

But Hermione was smirking at him, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes...

"Ron? Exactly what are you trying to say?"

Ron blinked, and a grin crept onto his face. "Oh... Er, this, actually..." And before he could change his mind, Ron darted towards her and pressed his lips to hers.

It was... indescribable. Hermione's kiss was... warm and tingly like butterbeer... and sweeter than Honeyduke's best sugarquills... and even more exhilarating than if the Cannons had played a three-day league-championship quidditch match and won... And then it was... it was like...

Like magic, thought Ron, even though he knew it sounded lame.

They pulled apart, and Ron slid onto the trapeze with Hermione, and let the broom fall to the floor. Hermione sighed and snuggled into his chest, and Ron wrapped an arm around her and played with her hair, and the two of them sat together, high above Hogwarts, among the owls.

***