Originally Posted: May 09, 2006

Title: Between Friends
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry, Hermione, Ron (mentions of R/Hr)
Rating: PG for language
Genre: General, Friendship
Length/Word Count: One-shot, 2495 words
Summary: Harry shows up for dinner at the Burrow to find Ron drunk and Hermione conspicuously absent.
Notes: Written for the challenge community 7spells on LJ. My prompt was the blind leading the blind. Thanks to my betas,quite_grey and knittedshadow!
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.


Between Friends


Harry Apparated to the Burrow a few minutes after six, smoothing down his green shirt once he’d arrived. Mentally preparing to receive yet another lecture from Hermione about the importance of being on time, he raised his hand to knock, but before his fist made contact, the door gave way to reveal a scowling Ginny.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, and without another word, turned and disappeared into the house.

“Who else would it be? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, following her inside. He could barely make out Ron boisterously singing; it sounded a bit like their old school song.

“Hermione. I was hoping she’d be here soon to sort him out.” She gestured to the backyard on their way to the kitchen, mumbling something under her breath that Harry didn’t quite catch.

“Hermione’s not here? We’re supposed to be having dinner…”

“No. She’s not here,” Ginny spat and walked over to the sink, which was filled with what looked like several days worth of dishes. She grabbed her wand and waved it sharply; a sponge began to froth sudsy bubbles, wobbling unsteadily before collapsing onto the counter, where it heaved as if catching its breath. Irritably, Ginny abandoned her wand and grabbed the sponge, turning on the tap to begin washing the dishes by hand; faint squeaking emphasised her words as she continued ranting.

“Already had to send Neville home, since Ron decided to show up completely pissed, and of course, no one can be arsed to do the dishes while Mum and Dad are away. Always has to be the woman doesn’t it? Stupid bloody gits.”

She'd no sooner finished speaking when Fred and George enthusiastically joined in with Ron's slurred singing, and Ginny threw down the sponge, bubbles whirling up around her nose.

“CAN’T YOU THREE SHUT YOUR TRAPS?”

Harry slowly backed up, inching his way toward the door. “I think I’ll just go check on them.”

Ginny violently squeezed the sponge, then resumed her furious scrubbing. “You do that. And tell Ron that if he decides to keep drinking, he can find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

“Er...right.” Harry hurried out of the kitchen, stumbling over a half-knitted blanket thrown haphazardly over an arm chair in the sitting room on his way to the back door.

Crossing the grassy yard, he saw Ron sprawled on the ground between Fred and George, trying to swing a bottle in time with their singing. He cut off mid-word when he noticed Harry, though, his mouth hanging open.

“Harry! My bestest best mate…where you been? You’re late!”

Harry cracked a smile as he walked over. “I’m always late.”

“S’true…come on, have a drink with me.”

“I’m all right.” Harry sank to his knees, joining Ron and the twins on the grass.

“No, Harry, have a drink,” Fred said, winking at George, who pulled a few wrapped sweets from his pocket.

“You’ll need something to wash these down with.”

Ron knocked George’s hand away, scattering the sweets to the ground. “No! Don’t do it Harry. I ate some and they turned my hair to feathers.”

“You’re no fun, little brother,” George laughed, ruffling Ron’s hair. Harry grinned and managed to catch the bottle of Firewhisky as it tipped dangerously toward Fred’s lap.

“Harry would have looked fetching with feathers…”

“And it only lasted a minute or two.”

“More like a half-hour. And I quacked,” Ron said petulantly, but he was soon nodding happily when he noticed that Harry had the bottle. “Good, you should drink. It’ll make it better.”

“What, the feathers?” Harry looked down at the bottle; there seemed to be only a swallow or two left, so he shrugged and tipped it back, finishing off the rest of the whisky with a slight grimace.

“You know, it’ll be good to be rid of her. Right pain in the arse, she is. Always nagging…Ron, pick up your socks, Ron, you left the toilet seat up again, Ron, not right now, I’ve got to study, why don’t you go read Hogwarts: A History…pain in the arse.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but before Harry could respond, he was belting out the Hogwarts school song again, and Ginny began screeching inside the house.

“I think we should check on Ginny,” George whispered, nudging Fred behind Ron’s back, and they both got to their feet. “You got him, right?”

Harry nodded, and Fred patted him on the head. “Maybe she’ll want some sweets.”

“Where you two going?” Ron huffed; George stuck out his tongue.

“Going to get more whisky, little brother.”

“Yeah, you’ve gone and drunk it all, and left nothing for us.”

“And look at Harry, wasting away. He’s dying of thirst.” Fred clutched his chest dramatically.

“Wankers,” Ron mumbled and fell flat on his back. Harry resisted the urge to laugh as Fred and George retreated into the house. He stared at Ron, waiting for him to sit back up, but Ron merely sighed and made himself more comfortable on the ground. Harry shifted, lying back next to him, Ron’s earlier words about Hermione ringing in his ears.

Harry peered over at Ron. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Ron said stubbornly, closing his eyes. Harry lolled his head back, watching the clouds float by.

“She’ll come round. Whatever happened. You know that,” Harry finally said.

Ron inhaled deeply. “Not this time.”

“You two always fight and then make up later. Once it took three days but—”

“It’s different this time.” Harry scrutinised Ron’s profile out of the corner of his eye, waiting for his resolve to waver, but Ron seemed to be ignoring him. “I used to think you could sit on clouds. You know, if you flew high enough, you could sort of land on one, and hang out for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, unsure what that had to do with anything, but Ron abruptly changed gears, his voice barely audible.

“Someone should check on her. Make sure she’s okay.” He turned pleading blue eyes on Harry.

“Ginny can go…I’ll ask her—”

“No,” Ron interrupted, grabbing Harry’s wrist. “You go.” Harry was silent, furrowing his eyebrows. “She won’t listen to anyone else. Ginny’s in a knot, anyway.”

“But what about you?”

Ron lopsidedly shoved Harry’s shoulder, slurring his words. “M’fine…Fred and George are coming back and Ginny’s here. Bollocks, I should apologise to her or something.”

Harry lowered his voice, even though no one was around to overhear. “What did you say to her?”

Ron’s ears turned pink. “I…I sort of called her a slag and said all women were evil…” He trailed off, and Harry was sure there was more to the story, the way Ron was suddenly avoiding his eyes. He idly wondered how the twins were faring, and he peered at Ron’s face, studying it for evidence of Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hex.

As if he were reading Harry’s mind, Ron winced and rubbed his nose, mumbling, “She knows I didn’t mean it.”

“Right.”

“Go on…get out of here.”

“Are you sure—”

Ron’s jaw was set, and he shoved Harry again, this time a bit more forcefully. “Yeah…if you’re really worried you can come back later. But I might vomit all over you.”

Harry laughed, and rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off his trousers. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He reached the back door just as Ginny opened it. “He didn’t mean it,” Harry said, cocking his head back to where Ron had resumed his off-key singing.

“He’s still a wanker,” Ginny replied, but she brushed past him and strode determinedly toward Ron; Harry paused in the doorway, watching as she plopped down on the grass. Ron sat up at her arrival and she poked him in the shoulder, saying something that Harry couldn’t hear; Ron collapsed, shaking, his head in her lap. Ginny stroked Ron’s back, then caught Harry’s eye and paused, shooing him with a wave. Harry nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating on Hermione’s front door as he Apparated away.

***

The door was locked. Harry had known it would be, but still he'd knocked and knocked, calling Hermione’s name to no avail, and ended up jiggling the door knob in frustration.

“Hermione, I’m coming in no matter what, so you should just open the door,” he yelled, sliding his wand out of his pocket. He briefly considered the idea that she wasn’t at home, but he had no doubt she would be holed up in her makeshift library, losing herself in some big book.

“Alohomora,” he whispered, and tried the knob again, but it didn’t budge.

“Damn it, Hermione.” Searching his pockets, he fumbled for his keys until he found the one that would open her flat, but nothing happened when he slid it into the lock. He cursed once more under his breath, then tried the spell again, turning the key at the same time; finally, the door opened.

“Hermione? It’s me,” he called as he stepped over the threshold, but his only answer was the door clicking shut behind him. He took the stairs two at a time, his footfalls booming in the silent hallway. Well, at least he wouldn’t be surprising her, he thought, crossing the landing to the door where her library lay. He found her there, sitting on a small sofa in the corner of the room with a heavy book open in her lap. Only she wasn’t looking at the book, but out the large window that dominated the room, sunlight streaming in on her face, which was turned away from him.

He crossed to her hesitantly, and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Hermione?”

“Hello, Harry.” She sounded calm, not at all surprised at his unexpected visit.

Harry shifted his weight before deciding to sit next to her; he cleared his throat, but realised he didn't have the faintest idea what to say.

“How is he?” she asked, saving him the trouble.

“Pissed,” Harry answered automatically, then cringed. “He’s just a bit drunk, but…worried about you.”

“That’s nice.” She flipped a page in her book, though her gaze was still focused on the window. “You can tell him I’m fine.”

“All right.” There was a long moment of silence.

“Go on, then. I’m fine.” She turned another page, finally looking down at the book, and he caught a glance of her red-rimmed eyes.

“Hermione…” he said helplessly. He reached for her hand, but she moved it away, slamming her book closed.

“I’m fine, Harry,” she repeated, voice cracking as she rubbed a finger beneath her eye. Harry would not be deterred; he grabbed her hand.

“Tell me what happened.” She tried to pull away again, but Harry held on stubbornly.

Hermione ducked her head under a curtain of bushy hair, avoiding his steady gaze. “We broke up.”

“You just had a row, right? You two always fight. You’ll get back together,” Harry said with forced confidence.

“No, Harry,” She swung her hair back over her shoulder, and glared at him. “We’re through. Done. It’s over. It’s a simple concept that even you should be able to understand.”

Harry drew back as though stung, and Hermione’s features softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just…”

“Upset,” Harry finished, and she looked down at her lap.

“Yes.”

They sat in silence once more. Harry wanted to reassure her that she and Ron would get back together, but he was beginning to realise he didn't have the first clue of what had happened between his two best friends.

“I’ll understand if you take Ron’s side,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

Harry screwed up his face in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s common knowledge that when a couple breaks up, their friends take different sides.” Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, and Harry gaped at her, completely baffled. “Not really sides, but friends tend to drift toward the half of the couple they were closest to; obviously for you that would be Ron.”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he asked, his frustration growing.

“You’re closer to Ron. So you’ll be his friend and not mine,” she shot back, twisting her hands in her lap.

“We’re all friends. We were before…why does that have to change?”

“Because,” Hermione sighed, assuming what Harry privately referred to as her ‘lecture-tone’. It normally amused him, but he wasn’t feeling very amused at the moment. “Ron and I weren’t a couple before. And now that we’ve broken up…they’ll be bad feelings; you’ll naturally gravitate towards him. It’s like what happened when you and Ginny broke up. Neville chose her.”

“Neville’s dating her! I’m not going to date Ron,” Harry protested.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Of course not. But Neville wasn’t as friendly toward you after the break-up even before he started dating Ginny—it doesn’t matter. The point is you have to choose and he’s your best friend so…” Her voice trailed off and she took to staring out at the window again.

“You’re my best friend too, Hermione,” Harry said softly. Hermione made a noise of dissent, but he put a finger to her lips. “I don’t know what happened, but whether you and Ron are done for good or not, you’re still going to be my best friend.”

“But…” Hermione’s eyes were downcast.

“You’re my best friend,” Harry repeated firmly, and she slowly looked up at him, her eyes beginning to well with tears.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. God, and you say I’m thick.” Harry gave her a faint smile, and the next thing he knew she was throwing her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Her tears were wet against his skin, and he clumsily patted her back, hugging her close. He wished she wouldn’t cry over it.

“Oh, Harry…” Her voice was muffled, and she wiped her eyes as she pulled away from him. “Thank you.”

Harry dropped his hands to her waist, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. He looked away, back to not knowing what to say. “It’s nothing.”

She shifted to her side and laid her head on Harry’s chest. His cheeks went scarlet, but he put his arm around her anyway, figuring she must need the comfort.

“Will you stay a bit longer?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Harry squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Hermione said quickly, and he nodded, though she couldn’t see it. After a pause she added, “I could tell you about this book I’m reading.” She leaned down to grab the book from where it had fallen on the floor when they'd spontaneously hugged.

“All right,” Harry agreed, hoping it wouldn’t be something terribly boring, and he glanced over her shoulder to have a look at the title, but she’d already flipped it open.

“It’s a very interesting book. I read it several times in school,” she said, settling back against his chest. Harry inwardly groaned, and she continued, a bit of teasing in her tone, “It’s called Hogwarts: A History.”

--Fin--








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