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“Honestly, Ron, it’s like you’ve never actually do any of the assigned reading!”
The portrait closed behind them with a soft click and Hermione immediately made her way to one of the tables while the boy in question lounged over the arm of one of the armchairs in front of the fire. “Of course I’ve read the text. I just don’t care about any of it.” The fifteen year old grinned at her from his vantage point upside down, and let his body relax over the arm.
Tonight was the fifth DA meeting that included the pointy ferret, but Harry had just sent him and Hermione off to walk with some third year Hufflepuffs before they could talk to him about if Harry was really sure he wanted to include Malfoy in the meetings again after tonight.
“Harry will be just fine.” Hermione’s voice brought him out of his suspicious musings and he realized he was drumming his fingers angrily and loudly on the stone floor.
He sat up and crossed his arms with a scowl. “Why would he send us off before the Ferret?” He groused.
“ Because -” her tone was one of longsuffering, which he supposed made sense as she had already repeated this point multiple times. “- it was our turn on the rotation to go first. We can’t afford to be predictable and I know you are very aware of this.”
He let out a groan of frustration and yanked open his bag to pull out his second to last bottle of butterbeer and drank half of it in nearly two gulps.
“You are revolting.” Hermione said with a disgusted look on her face and he stuck his tongue out at her.
“Just go back to your books.”
“I thought you wanted help with your history essay?” She retorted and he smiled sheepishly.
He had completely forgotten about that particular assignment. “Yeah, thanks Hermione.”
Though how was he supposed to concentrate when Harry was potentially alone with Ferret Boy?
After about 20 minutes of the pair of them whispering and arguing points on the topic of Goblin Rebellions, Ron retrieved his last bottle of butter beer.
“I was saving this for Harry, but he’s an arsehole who is not here.” Ron declared before popping the top.
Ron had just taken a small swig when the portrait slammed open, the lady squawking indignantly at the motion, and a ruffled Harry came walking unsteadily through.
“Harry!” Hermione stood to be more visible and Ron watched as Harry caught sight of them and veered off in their direction. He took a swig of his butterbeer and eyed his friend carefully. He didn’t seem worse for wear, just a bit dazed perhaps. No blood, no signs of a fight, no need to worry. He allowed himself to relax again and took in another mouthful just as Harry opened his mouth to speak.
“I kissed Draco.” He said faintly, cheeks turning pink at his own confession.
Ron’s butterbeer spluttered all over his shirt, trousers, and the rug in front of him and he stared at Harry with wide eyes. His best friend did what now?
Harry stared back at him with unblinking, hazy eyes.
Hermione stared between the boys with her hands pressed to her mouth. She was the first the break the silence when she dropped her hands and smirked at Harry. “So? How was it?”
Ron snorted. “Awful, I bet. This is Malfoy we’re talking about.” Of course his best friend wouldn’t enjoy kissing that prat! Even if he did like kissing boys over girls, Harry had better taste than that. Right?
She rolled her eyes. “Ron, I'm sure Harry's kissing was perfectly enjoyable. To a certain extent.” She looked uncertain for a bit and then turned back to her still blushing friend with her shark grin fully in place. “But seriously, Harry, how was it?”
Harry blinked and then flushed, this time in embarrassment. “Erm, well. Wet, at first. I mean, he was crying.”
Ron started snickering. Oh, this was just too much! “I mean I know I said awful, but I didn't know it would be -”
A pillow hit him squarely on the side of his face, effectively cutting him off. “Honestly, Ron. Don't you know how Draco must be feeling? He's just started rebelling against his parents, so he must be feeling extremely conflicted about his loyalties, confused about liking Harry and also the fact that he might be gay, and guilty about kissing him when he is feeling this way because Harry obviously is in love with him.”
Both boys turned and stared at her. Ron took another swallow of his butterbeer and scoffed. “Oh, come off it ‘Mione. One person can't possibly feel all of that once.”
“I have a much more important protest.” Harry spluttered indignantly. “When did I ever say I was in love with -”
Ron was surprised when he and Hermione snorted in unison and said “Harry, everyone knows.”
Hermione continued, this time giving Ron a look that reminded him of sour milk that he wanted to snicker at it, which probably wasn’t her intent. “Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean everyone else has, Ronald Weasley.” She snapped before turning back to Harry. “So, what are you going to do?”
Harry’s cheeks pinked again, and he looked away bashfully. “Well.” He coughed. “We, erm. We talked. And. Well, erm. He might be my boyfriend. I mean, he is my boyfriend.”
“He’s your what now?!” Ron squeaked. He felt what could only be described as his brain melting and he gaped at his best mate. “You said the kiss was wet! That means uncomfortable lip touching! How does a wet, uncomfortable kiss translate to ‘boyfriend’?” It was all a dream. It had to be. A horrible, horrible nightmare he just couldn’t wake from.
“It just does.” Harry said defensively and Ron fought a wince. A defensive Harry was never a reasonable one. “I said it was wet, at first. Then I realized what I did, and was sure I had just ruined everything.”
Ron frowned. “What do you mean, ruined everything? What is there to ruin? He’s...he’s...he’s Malfoy! He’s the evil pointy faced git! The Incredible Bouncing Ferret! He’s -”
“My boyfriend.” Harry interrupted flatly, though his eyes were flashing and Ron knew his friend well enough to shut up. “So no more of that.”
His frown turned into a brief scowl as he thought about all the horrible shite Malfoy had done over their years at Hogwarts and then sighed. If Harry really thought he had changed, and since Ron had promised himself he wouldn't pull any more jealous weird shit like he did last year during the tournament, then it was time he gave Malfoy a chance. “Sorry, mate. So, tell us.” He could swallow his pride for this story.
For his best friend.
It was worth it to see Harry smile brightly. “I thought I had ruined our friendship, but he was the last one tonight, and he and I were talking, and he just looked so…ethereal I couldn’t help myself.” Hermione snorted in amusement, and Ron wanted to upchuck at the ethereal comment. Harry was always a bit barmy, but this was going a bit far in Ron’s mind “And he was crying, so maybe not the best timing.” She was giggling now and that had Ron snickering a little, and he felt a little better that Hermione was just as amused at the whole situation as he was.
Even if his best friend was now dating ol’ Ferret Face.
Harry laughed, though his pink flush was still fixed on his face. That flush made Ron feel uncomfortable now that he knew the source of it. “He told me not to kiss him if I was just trying to make him feel better.” His flush deepened and he squirmed on his feet. “I might have told him that his happiness made me happy, and that if kissing him made him happy, I’d do it until he wanted me to stop but that if he’d rather, I’d never kiss him again.”
It was her turn to gape at him. “Goodness, Harry! When did you turn into a romantic?” Ron wanted to protest that. It wasn’t romantic, it was nauseating!
He coughed nervously. “I...I’m not. I don’t know where all that came from. It just...It felt like the right thing to say, you know?”
She smiled secretively at him. “Yes, I do.” Of course she did. Hermione bloody well knew everything.
“Well I don’t.” Ron said grumpily, crossing his arms with a scowl. “Why would Harry kissing Malfoy make him happy?” Another pillow smacked him in the face. “Ow! Stop it, Hermione!”
“You stop being insensitive.” She hissed, and he felt mildly offended. What about ribbing his best mate? Is he not allowed to do that anymore? “So, what did he say?”
Harry giggled - giggled - and then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.” He muttered, a bashful grin peeking through his hand. “He didn’t say anything. He just snogged me rather thoroughly.”
“Ah.” Ron said, nodding wisely, pushing away his urge to vomit a bit easier than he had been able to before and pulling up the urge to be supportive and a better best friend than Hermione and lighten the mood a bit. “That explains the messier than normal hair.”
“And the rather starstruck, deer in the headlights look you had coming into the common room.” Hermione was entirely too smart. She already caught on to what Ron was doing because her smirk was wicked and her tone innocent. He couldn’t be upset when she was like the cat who ate the canary.
“Shut up, you guys.” Harry’s scowl was ruined by the permanent smile that seemed to be in place now.
Ron snickered. It was about merlin damned time he was able to tease his best mate about a girl - er, boyfriend. “And the fact that you’re a permanent shade of pink. Hey, Hermione. These all belong on “reasons we know Harry Potter is in love with Draco Malfoy” list, right?”
She nodded, curly hair bouncing around her head. “Oh absolutely. Without a doubt.” He felt warm at the little proud look she shot over to him.
“You know what Ron, I think I might risk the Slytherin dorms. Their prefects have their own bedrooms.” His bashful grin turned rather predatory and he tapped his chin with a finger. “I wonder...who is one of the Slytherin boys prefects?”
Ron’s eyes widened in horror and he dove towards the portrait. “Oh, no you don’t.” He was going to protect his best mate’s innocence from the evil predatory Slytherin. He was startled when Harry bent over laughing.
“You are too much. I’m going to bed.” Barely composing himself, Harry darted up the stairs and disappeared.
Hermione sighed and Ron watched him with narrow eyes. This was all entirely too suspicious, he decided. However, he gave his friend the benefit of the doubt and reluctantly allowed Hermione to cajole him into finishing the paper on the goblin rebellions of 1534. He could solve the mystery of his weird best friend another day.
In the morning, at the very soonest.
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End
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