| Part Two |
The quiet click of the door-latch sounded clearly in the silence of the dormitory.
Harry sat up, watching Ron sneak into the room by moonlight. He waited until Ron had finished changing into his pyjamas and was climbing silently into bed before he cast a Lumos, illuminating their entire corner of the room.
"Blimey, Harry!" snapped Ron, a bit too loudly, as he whirled toward the light. "Why don't you blind me, while you're at it?"
Harry tried not to smirk, knowing it wouldn't help the situation at all. He extinguished his wand, so as not to disturb their sleeping dormmates, who had already rolled over and grunted at the burst of Ron's voice.
"I see you're still in a fine mood," commented Harry lightly, watching Ron for signs of impending explosion.
Ron turned his back again. "For all you care," he muttered.
Harry sighed deeply. So much for getting to sleep early tonight. He heaved himself out of bed and strode quickly to Ron's side.
"Shove over," he ordered.
The moon, two days past full, shone bright as day through the windows, letting each boy see every nuance of the other's expression. Harry was thus treated to the full brunt of Ron's glower.
"No," replied Ron succinctly. "Go away."
"Shove over or I'll sit on you," said Harry, and proceeded to do so.
Ron's indignant scrambling nearly dumped Harry back onto the floor, but they quickly settled into their usual late-night-talk positions, with Ron's shoulders propped against the headboard and Harry cross-legged by Ron's knees.
"Now," said Harry, ignoring Ron's scowl, "do you want to explain your little display of drama from earlier?"
"Explain?" sputtered Ron. "I think you're the one who owes someone an explanation around here! Pretending to help me work out what to do about Hermione, while all the while you want her for yourself!"
Harry gaped a moment. When his wits had caught up with him, he almost literally had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before he dared allow himself to speak.
"Look, Ron," he said quietly and evenly, "I promise you I don't fancy Hermione. At all. And I'm quite sure she doesn't fancy me, either."
"What's wrong?" challenged Ron. "Not good enough for you, then?"
Harry very nearly literally threw his hands up in defeat. Only it was a good question.
"I don't know what's wrong, Ron," he answered honestly. "I think Hermione's brilliant. But I never felt like you do about her. Not for a moment."
Ron looked up sharply, meeting Harry's eyes. Harry held his gaze, leaving himself open to scrutiny.
"Really?" ventured Ron at last.
"Really," confirmed Harry.
"So then what was going on tonight? With you and Hermione and all your little glances at each other?"
Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you don't know," he answered.
"Know what, Harry?" he wheedled.
Harry took a long look at his best friend, and came to a decision.
"No. You're going to have to work this one out for yourself, Ron."
"Harry -"
"Sorry, Ron," he answered, although he wasn't entirely. "I really think this one has to come from you."
Harry pushed himself off Ron's bed, and walked back to his own, without answering his best friend's whispered protests.
He felt somewhat badly for not telling Ron what was going on, but he really did think it would mean more to Hermione if Ron worked it out for himself.
It didn't seem fair to either of them just to tell Ron that he was managing to forget the eighteenth birthday of the woman he loved.