Ron: I don’t know what Neville wants anymore! Harry, what am I supposed to do?
Harry: may I speak freely, Ron?
Ron: yes, of course, old boy.
Harry: I am so bloody sick of hearing this year after year. “Harry, what am I to do?”, “I told him I love him. I took it back.”, “I’m afraid of commitment.”, “I’m worried about the children.” FOR GOD’S SAKE, MAKE A MOVE! DO SOMETHING!! YOU ALREADY PASSED ON HERMIONE, DO YOU WANT TO REGRET THIS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE TOO?!
Can you write a Harry, Ron and Hermione friendship fic?
“I mean, at first it was so sudden that I didn’t know if I should say anything to her,” Ron said. Harry grunted in sympathy. “And now…well, it’s been so long I wouldn’t know where to start. I feel like I’ve been going behind her back for months.”
“And Hermione’s not going to like that,” Harry agreed, sounding uncharacteristically grave. “But you have to tell her sooner or later, and the sooner the better—for everyone’s sake.”
“Oh, I know that,” replied Ron. “I just have no idea how to begin the conversation.”
There was a noise like a chair scraping backwards on the wooden floor, and Hermione jumped guiltily. Honestly, she wasn’t the type to listen at doors, but Ron had been acting so strangely recently, and she’d just been passing by when she’d heard him talking to Harry and she’d hesitated for just a moment, and…well, they always said you shouldn’t eavesdrop if you weren’t prepared to hear some things you wouldn’t like.
“Well, you could start with the most obvious thing: telling the truth,” Harry said.
Hermione’s heart began to pound. She had thought Ron was acting strangely recently—sometimes, she’d walk into a room and he’d start suddenly, attempting to pull an “I’m totally innocent, nothing funny going on here, no siree” face that only made it all the more obvious that he was up to something. He’d be all shifty and cagey over seemingly nothing, and it was the kind of behaviour that, if she’d been insecure and 14, would have made her think he was cheating on her. When this thought had first occurred to her, she’d dismissed this out of hand—Ron would never—but now…now she wondered again.
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Harry said, laughing. “It’s not like you’re cheating on her, or something!”
Hermione, who had opened her mouth ready to barge into the room demanding an explanation, closed it with a snap, hurt. If Ron was going behind her back with some other woman, she’d have thought Harry would have taken her side. She, after all, was the one in the right here.
“Am I not, though? It certainly feels that way,” Ron said, and she could practically hear his nervous fidgeting, even through a closed door. She’d always found his tics endearing, as well as been proud that she could read them so well. Now all she felt was a cold sensation in her stomach.
She held her breath, still listening outside the closed door. They clearly hadn’t realised she’d returned home from work early. She’d been hoping to surprise Ron, and the irony of how the tables had turned hadn’t escaped her.
“Come on,” Harry said. “You’re not cheating on her. You’re just—” he sounded like he was trying to stifle laughter, “you’re just having an affair of the heart! With—”
“No!” Ron yelped, cutting him off before Hermione could hear a name. Harry was outright laughing now (she made a mental note not to try to defend him to Ginny next time they had an argument), but Ron sounded even more upset.
“Okay,” Harry said, having appeared to make a concerted effort to control himself. “When did this start?”
“Three or four months ago,” Ron answered promptly. Hermione flinched. He’d been doing…something with…someone for three or four months?!
“But you’ve known each other for years!” Harry said, sounding surprised. “How come it’s suddenly changed?”
“I don’t know,” Ron said helplessly. “I didn’t initiate it. But suddenly…things just seemed to change between us. It’s like we saw each other in a way that we hadn’t managed to before, if that makes sense?”
Hermione’s heart began to beat so loudly she half-expected the two of them to hear it through the heavy wooden door. Lavender Brown had recently started working at the Auror Office—about four months ago, if she remembered correctly. But Ron didn’t like her any more—he hadn’t for years, and even when they’d been in school it had been a lust thing, not a love thing. Besides, she and Lavender got on well these days! She wouldn’t…and he certainly wouldn’t…would they?
“It does,” Harry said. “But, you know, I don’t think Hermione’ll mind. She might quite like it, actually.” Right. Not only was she never going to buy him a birthday or Christmas present again, she was also going to find a way to rescind all those she’d given him over the years.
“Don’t be thick, of course she won’t like it!” Ron said scornfully, and Hermione almost felt pleased that she was defending him to Harry, who was clearly missing a few brain cells, before remembering that he was cheating on her. “I mean, he was hers first!”
Wait a minute…he? Had she heard that correctly?!
“Yes, he was, but there’s no reason you can’t share him now,” Harry said.
He. He! Who on Earth could they be talking about?! Not Viktor, surely—he would have mentioned it in one of his letters. Or would he? ‘Bulgaria is fine, hope you’re well, lots of love and ps I’m sleeping with your boyfriend.’ No, perhaps not. But it couldn’t be Cormac sodding McLaggan of all people!
“The thing is, I’m not sure he even wants to be shared,” Ron said. “He’s become very attached to me and lately I’ve noticed him being a bit…well, off with her. He just seems to want me. And you know…I’ve become pretty fond of him myself. I kind of don’t want to share, either!”
Hermione—a kind, considerate person—had never before been able to imagine a situation when she would feel anti-gay rights, but now she had found one: there was nothing wrong with being attracted to the same gender…unless you were currently dating Hermione Granger, who was very much in love with you.
She racked her brains, trying to think of which of their friends Ron was in love with. It couldn’t be Harry—her first thought—or he wouldn’t be in the living room having that conversation with Ron right now. And it wouldn’t be Viktor, either. It would have to be someone they both knew quite well. Perhaps…could it be Neville? Neville always seemed a bit funny around her, which she’d always chalked up to him being shy but…oh, Merlin, what if he’d been in love with Ron for years and secretly hated her?! She tried to imagine going out with all their friends and seeing Ron and Neville holding hands and acting all loved up, and found that she just couldn’t. It would be torture to lose Ron, especially to so close a friend.
Maybe she and Hannah Abbott could form a club?
Unable to stand anymore, she burst through the door. Both Harry and Ron jumped, and Ron’s lap yowled at the sudden movement. Wait a moment…
“Hermione, I can explain!” Ron yelped, trying to soothe a spitting Crookshanks at the same time.
“Oh, you can, can you?!” Hermione said, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice.
“I can!” Ron said desperately. “It started a few months ago—he just came and sat in my lap one night, and you were working late, and I think we both missed you, and it’s just sort of…grown since there. Now me and Crookshanks get on really well and I don’t hate him anymore and he likes me and—”
“Wait, you and Crookshanks?!”
“Unless you have another cat hidden away somewhere…”
“No, I don’t…you and Crookshanks? Are you…” She trailed off. Somehow, the thought of Ron and Neville getting it off seemed less ridiculous than the idea of Ron and Crookshanks being able to stand each other.
“I know it seems strange,” Ron said. “You’re—you’re not mad, are you?”
“What? No! No, of course not,” Hermione said, attempting an airy laugh. It didn’t quite work and she sat down rather heavily in a chair, but Ron didn’t seem to notice and looked relieved.
“Did you just get in?” he asked. She nodded, looking the other way so he wouldn’t see her blush. “Fancy a cup of tea? I was just going to put the kettle on, and I could feed this one at the same time,” he inclined his head towards the cat, who mewed excitedly. Hermione gave a stilted nod, and Ron smiled. “Excellent! Back in a few,” he said, standing up.
Crookshanks followed him out of the room, winding around his legs and purring. As he passed through the doorway, Ron reached down and scratched his head, and Crookshanks nuzzled his hand affectionately. Hermione felt a momentary twinge of jealousy—Crookshanks was her cat—but pushed it down, realising that Ron had been acting shifty for months because he was worried about her reacting badly, and that it had all nearly culminated in her thinking he was cheating on her with Neville Longbottom.
Really, this alternative was pretty sweet.
“So, how are you?” she asked, pulling her attention away from her boys and turning to Harry, who was watching her with an amused look on her face.
“Very well,” he said gravely. “And you?”
“Good! I’m good. I’m really good,” she said.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Harry said, lips twitching. “By the way, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“What did you think we were on about, when you were listening at the door?”
“What?!” Hermione squeaked. “How did you…?”
“I could see your shadow coming through underneath the door—Ron’s back was to you,” he explained. “I wanted to see how long it’d take you to come in: I tried to be deliberately vague and make it sound as though there was something going on to see what conclusions you’d jump to.”
“I didn’t jump to any conclusions!” Hermione said, with dignity. Harry stared hard at her. “I ended up thinking he was having an affair with another bloke,” she elaborated.
“Any bloke in particular, or…?” Harry asked, his lips twitching.
“…Neville.”
When Ron arrived back in the room shortly afterwards, with three mugs of tea, a packet of biscuits and Crookshanks, they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t speak to explain to him what was so funny. “Looks like it’s just you and me then, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head bemusedly at the cat as Harry and Hermione continued to laugh hysterically. Crookshanks purred.
