Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ronald Bilius Weasley is completely, and utterly screwed. He has been ever since that fateful day he wandered upon Harry Potter’s train compartment at just eleven years old; claiming everywhere else was full. If Harry hadn’t have allowed Ronald to sit with him, Ron wouldn’t be in the current predicament he was in now - or had been in for almost four years.

He was in love with Harry bloody Potter, his best friend. The boy who lived.

Ron hadn’t meant to fall in love with Harry. It’s just, throughout the years, his heart eagerly sped up every time he heard that laugh of his. The laugh which spread warmth up and down the crevices of Ron’s body. His heart also sped up with every sight of that messy black hair of his and those loving, green eyes. Not only that though, Ron felt so comfortable and happy around him. No one has ever managed to make him feel so content.

Hermione - being the clever witch she is - figured it out in their third year. Thankfully, she never judged Ron. Actually, she was the one who encouraged him to make a move on Harry. Though every time he caught even an ounce of confidence to do so, something got in the way, preventing him.

So here he was, sat at the Gryffindor table in the great hall next to Harry. His fourth year had just began and they were all waiting for Dumbledore’s speech to commence.

“Now we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement..” Dumbledore started talking, like he does every year, “This castle will not only be your home this year, but will hold us some very special guests as well.”

Ron was already deciding to drown out the elderly man’s voice. His main focus was on how close Harry felt next to him. How if Ron only reached over onto his right, they’d be touching.

Running.

Ronald started to focus again upon hearing the sound. Looking up like most people were on his table, he noticed the old Filch running across the hall in a hurry. Confusion struck the red-head.

Why would he, Filch, possibly need to run and ruin the headmasters annual speech?

Said man ran until he was next to Dumbledore, huffing and puffing something into his ear. A few students began to laugh, Ron included. What an absolute idiot.

When Filch left, running the same way he came, Dumbledore began to talk again. His words piquing interest in the room.

“So, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event.. The Triwizard Tournament.”

Gasps of surprise fell across the hall. Ron whispered in curiosity to Harry, whilst the bearded man carried on talking. He was wondering what that’d mean for the school. Harry silenced him, giving him a pleading look to shut up, as he tried to listen.

“..From each school, a single student is selected to compete. Let me be clear, if you’re chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say that these contests are not for the fainthearted.”

Dumbledore then introduced the ladies of the Beauxbaton’s Academy of Magic. Suddenly, a group of women dressed in blue entered the hall, strutting as they walked. At one point, they stopped at Ron and Harry, outstretching their arms.

If Ronald was any other man, he would’ve fallen in love at such a gesture. Especially with the beauty of the women in front of him. But, how could he be in love with a Beauxbaton woman, when he had his handsome best friend right next to him?

The Headmistress trailed in after the group and as Madame Maxime passed by him, Seamus nudged him, “That’s one big woman.”

The two began to snicker at the comment, only to be shut up with a threatening glare from Hermione across the table.

At the end of the ‘performance’ given from them, everyone began to clap and whistle. Ron would’ve been happy, if it weren’t for the enthusiasm Harry was showing them. It was times like this where Ron wished to any God out there, that Harry would treat Ron the same way he does girls.

When the clapping started coming to an end, Dumbledore then introduced the Durmstrang school, along with the headmaster, Karkaroff.

Unlike the Beauxbaton women, these men came stomping in.

Shockingly, they began to run after a while. A streak of fear and interest puckered up in Ron’s chest, as he watched the strong men’s actions. When the headmaster and Viktor Krum finally entered, a small ‘blimey it’s him, Viktor Krum’ comment came out of Ronald’s mouth, without him actually meaning to.

When the Hogwarts headmaster finally greeted the scary man, the feast began.

Ron immediately went to grab some of the food that appeared in front of him to pile onto his plate. Harry gave him a tender smile before doing the same.

The food was lovely, as per usual.

He engaged in conversation with other Gryffindors, whom he hadn’t seen in a numerous amount of weeks. Whilst doing so, Ron ate and ate until his stomach was full and almost bloated. A warmth filled Ron.

When they had all finished the feast, Albus decided to say a few words about the tasks that the students, who participate, will have to go through. Mad-eye Moody came in during it, followed by Barty.

Barty hesitantly said, “After some consideration, included for their own safety, any student under the age of seventeen, shouldn’t be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard tournament-“

A sudden uproar of shouts and boos made an appearance in the hall. Ron wasn’t really planning on putting his name in anyway, but he was still annoyed that any chance of doing so was taken away from him and the others. His twin brothers started shouting different phrases, seemingly more angered than most.

As the uproar seemed to be getting louder, Dumbledore shouted for the room to be quiet. Almost like a light-switch, everyone went silent.

Taking advantage of the new-found silence, he waved his wand, and the Goblet of Fire was revealed.

Dumbledore’s next words were filled with threat as he spoke about how once your name is in, you can’t back out. A feeling of dread started to develop in the pit of Ron’s stomach because of these words. He didn’t have a good feeling about this, whatsoever.

Later that night in their dormitory, Ron was sat on Harry’s bed, looking away shyly as Harry pulled his night shirt over his head.

“If you could put your name in the cup.. would you?”Ron suddenly asked, voice all mumbled and flustered from a shirtless Harry.

Harry huffed a laugh as he sat down alongside Ron on the bed.

“No, I wouldn’t. It seems too dangerous, from what i’ve gathered. What about you?”

Harry turned to look at Ron with his angelic face, placing all of his attention onto Ron. It was almost impossible to hide the blush that tried to appear on his freckled skin.

Harry was too gorgeous to be real.

“No,“ he finally answered, “ Not if you wouldn’t.”

And it’s true. Ron wouldn’t even dream of participating in such a tournament, but if Harry was going to, then he’d consider it.

Just after Ron said that, Harry flashed him a smile. His poor heart jumped in his chest from the sight. Unluckily for him, he couldn’t hide the rising blush this time.

Ron coughed and spluttered, quickly getting off of Harry’s bed and trudging over to his own. It’d be very embarrassing for his best friend to see the impact his smile has on him.

“Are you okay?”

Kind, oh kind, Harry questioned. Worried as he always is.

“Y- Yeah, I’m fine. It’s getting late and we’ve had an eventful day. Let’s get to sleep or else the others will get mad if we keep on talking,” he lied.

Harry nodded slowly, though he seemed to still be slightly bewildered with Ron’s behaviour.

Sighing, Ron plopped himself down onto his own bed and got under the covers. He scolded himself for reacting in such a bashful way over a simple smile. But yet that ‘simple smile’ was without a doubt, the most beautifulest.

He looked over and watched as Harry took off his glasses.

The other man laid down on his bed, muttering a goodnight at Ron, before he turned onto his side. Ron diverted his gaze and laid onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

It was going to be a long year, but he couldn’t wait. All that mattered to him was that he got to be close to Harry and neither of them got hurt in this stupid tournament.

———

The next day was spent in Mad-Eye Moody’s class, sat next to Harry like always.

Mad-Eye Moody truly lives up to his name. He threw a piece of chalk across the room in frustration from what Seamus had said. He had also made Ron, himself, stand up and name a curse. It was curse his Dad had taught him before - the imperius curse.

The man before him (Mad-Eye Moody) had caused him to tremble a little. Ron felt uncomfortable and nervous around him.

He had then made a spider grow in size at the front of the classroom, before placing the enlarged creature under his control using the curse. With one wave of his wand, the spider moved around the room. Typically enough, the spider ended up on Ron’s head, causing him to panic and shake. As quick as it was on him, it was moved and placed onto Malfoy’s face.

Harry had comforted him briefly, telling him he was okay and Harry even grabbed Ron’s shaky hand under the desk, stroking the freckled skin. Usually, it would’ve helped him calm down, but today, he felt on edge. It wasn’t until the killing curse was mentioned, that he forgot about the incident.

The spider had ended up dead on Hermione’s desk. Hermione was always strong-willed, but it seemed that the dead creature on her desk even effected her.

Mad-Eye Moody was a sadistic bastard.

“..there has only ever been one person to survive the killing curse, and he’s sitting in this room.”

Ron moved his gaze from Hermione’s desk at the front, to look at Harry, who seemed tense in his seat. Ron desperately wanted to tell Mad-Eye Moody to piss off and pick on someone his own age.

First, he nearly hit Seamus with a chalk stick, then he picks on Ron and puts a massive spider on his head, then he puts the dead spider on ‘Mione’s desk and now, he’s talking about Harry.

Fortunately, the lesson soon ended after that, yet Ronald couldn’t shake what had happened and neither could his friends.

The trio were walking down the stairs, when Ron finally spoke: the fear, the anger, and the hatred he was feeling, was bubbling at the surface and uglily brewing in his mind.

“Brilliant, isn’t it. Completely demented, of course. Terrified to be in the same room as him,” he spat, “He’s really been there, ya know. It’s even in the eye of his.”

Hermione turned around, a glare in her eye.

“There’s a reason those curses are unforgivable. To perform it in a classroom,” she remarked, a similar hatred seeping into her own voice.

“Did you see Neville’s face?”

But she stopped her sentence when she realised Neville himself, was stood on the stairs, a blank look seizing over his face.
Mad-Eye Moody rushed down the stairs, his large hand resting on Neville’s shoulder. He began to shake Neville out of his trance, making him come back to the classroom with him. Neville gulped and then turned to follow the ‘teacher’.

Ron felt immense pity for Neville.

———

The rest of the day was miserable with rain. In a way, the rain seemed to represent Ron’s emotions, due to the horrific lesson he had to endure with that crazy man.

Harry and Ron ran through the rain, both deciding to go and see the Goblet of Fire close-up.

Many students were around it by the time the duo got there. A few seventh years were even putting their names in. Ron watched intently as a student, he recognised as Cedric Diggory, put his own name in the Goblet.

A pang of jealousy shook throughout Ron, as he noticed the admirable look Harry was giving Cedric. He terribly wished that Harry would give him that kind-of-look, rather than just that friendly look he always gets.

Out of nowhere, Fred and George ran in. He wasn’t surprised that his brothers would try and age themselves, in order to put their names in. They were always up to mischief.

Hermione smugly told them that it wouldn’t work, though they argued against her, claiming Dumbledore was dumbly witted. Gulping down the potion, the two jumped and they managed to successfully get into the circle that surrounded the Goblet. An array of cheers came from people at their ‘success’.

Ron laughed at his brothers antics, though he was somewhat intrigued.

They put their names in and nothing happened, both happily nudging each other. Another array of cheers were heard, before a flame from the Goblet threw them out of the circle. Ron stared at his brothers in fright and it seems Harry did the same.

Then, old beards began to grow on the pair and a bunch of giggles were heard from people. The two began to blame each other, before they started to ‘fight’.

Ron and many others watched in pure amusement. Everyone chanted ‘fight’, yet Hermione just looked humourless at the scene in front of her, as she opened up her book.

Without warning, Viktor Krum and two others entered the room, and everything seemed to go silent. Close enough to yesterday, when they entered the great hall.

Krum stormed over to the Goblet and put his name into it in confidence. His sharp eyes settled on Hermione for a few seconds too long, before he turned around and left.

Ron and Harry left soon after, shoving each other playfully.

“Did ya see Fred and George’s faces when they saw themselves old?” Ron laughed, replaying the memory in his head.

Harry laughed next to him, “They acted like they could’ve killed each other. But did you see the way Krum stared at ‘Mione?”

Ron wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, resulting in Harry standing still.

“You’re not.. upset that Krum looked at her like that?” Harry carefully asked, as though the subject was sensitive.

Ron shook his head, brows now furrowed.

Why would he be upset?

“I thought.. I thought you like - liked her.”

Ron let out a loud laugh that he had to quickly muffle with his hand. Though a blush rose up his neck.

“Don’t be daft. I’m g-“

He stopped himself.

He knew Harry wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t want to reveal that part of himself yet. Particularly to his crush.

Even though Ron had paused mid-sentence, Harry only nodded understandingly, “Sorry for assuming. Just thought you might.”

But then a thought crossed Ron’s own mind.

“Do you like - like her?” his voice cracked, throat slowly going dry at such a proposition.

Harry immediately jumped on his spot, ” No, no! Merlin, no. I love her, she’s brilliant. But no, not like that.”

Ron nodded as well; his whole body going relieved at the information.

The rest of the journey to the great hall was silent. Both not knowing what to say after their embarrassing assumptions about one-another.

The hall was loud and bustling when they entered, most people excited to see who would be picked for the Triwizard tournament. Ron had parted ways with Harry, marching over to talk to Neville to see how he was feeling. Neville, strangely enough, had improved since that morning. They then got stuck into a conversation about the tournament - who they thought would be picked. Both easily agreed that Krum would most likely be chosen.

“Sit down,” the headmaster’s voice boomed, people immediately doing as he said.

Harry shifted slightly, so he’d be sat next close enough to where Ron, Neville, and Hermione were.

“Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The champion selection.”

Dumbledore moved and started to dim the lights with his hand. Everyone watched in awe, as the hall dimmed excitedly in colour.

The older man then reached for the Goblet, turning the fire from blue to a red colour. The first name flew out a few seconds later, and landed in the older man’s hand.

Suspension started to rise in the hall. Most were eager to find out who would be taking part.

Dumbledore read the paper and then shouted Viktor Krum’s name. Ron and Neville gave each other a knowing look, whilst Hermione seemed to shift anxiously in her seat. People clapped and praised him as he made his way to the front, clasping hands with Albus, proudly.

Another soon flew out of the Goblet again. It was announced it was Fleur Delacour.

People were clapping again for her - even a few Beauxbaton’s were squealing in excitement. Fleur flawlessly made her way to Dumbledore to shake his hand, before going in the same direction Viktor went.

The last paper came out.

Cedric Diggory.

Even louder cheers were heard for him. Harry stared from a distance, a huge smile plastered on his face, whilst a starry-look glassed over in his eyes.

Ron had to swallow the disgusting feeling of jealousy that was making its way up his throat like vomit. Hermione must’ve seen the look Harry gave Cedric because she turned to Ronald with the most sympathetic look he’d ever seen. It’s one thing Harry being straight. It’s another Harry being in love with another man that isn’t Ron.

Dumbledore spoke some words, though Ron chose to ignore. His heart was pounding irrationally in his chest and his lip wobbled.

Ron only started to pay attention when the Goblet bizarrely gave another name. This wasn’t right. There were only meant to be three, not four.

Without much chance to ponder about why this has happened, he heard the name that he hates (read:loves) so dearly.

Harry Potter.

Harry bloody Potter.

“HARRY POTTER,” Dumbledore shouted. An echo of the name swirled around the hall. Eyes upon eyes turned to look at Harry. Whispers getting louder and louder.

Ronald felt sick.
He was going to be sick.

Harry had lied. The bastard had lied. He told him he wouldn’t put his name in, yet he did. He put his name in without Ron knowing.

Why?

How was that even possible for someone their age?

Ronald watched as Harry wearily made his way to the front. Rage filled Ron inch by inch. Harry had put his name into the Goblet without Ron knowing.

And it wasn’t just that betrayal that bothered Ron, no. Harry has a mass chance of being seriously hurt. Is he stupid, or does he just live for the rush?

Harry shakily took the paper with his name on, out of Dumbledore’s hand and went over to the others. The whispers were getting louder and louder.

“He’s a cheat.”

Ron heard someone say from across the hall. And in any normal circumstance, Ron would’ve been furious at such an accusation. He would’ve stuck up for Harry. But right now, he couldn’t help but agree.

How dare he do this?

Ron’s fists were clenched tightly at his sides. Hermione noticed and put her hand over one, trying to soothe him.

After a while, he calmed. Though his mind seemed to ache with disappointment.

Him, Hermione and Neville walked back to the Gryffindor common room in silence. Every time Hermione tried to even make sense of it, she stopped herself.

No one could make sense of it.

In the corridor, all Ron could hear was Harry’s name. It was an annoying and painful reminder of what just happened.

When they reached the common room, they parted ways. Neville and Ron going to the boys dorms and Hermione going to the girls. There was a promise twinkling in Hermione’s eye that it was going to be okay, but Ron doesn’t think he can even believe her promise.

In their dorm, Ron got quickly changed into his pyjamas and by the time he had finished, Harry cautiously entered.

Usually, Ron would’ve greeted him, but tension seemed to cling possessively to the air.

Harry, himself, got changed for bed and then sat by the window, acting all innocent, but Ron didn’t fall for it.

Harry had indeed cheated.

“How did you do it, then?” Ron finally asked him. His voice cracked as he spoke, due to the hoarseness.

Harry turned to look at him, his face morphed into a frown, yet he didn’t speak.

He wasn’t going to speak.

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter,” Ronald spat out, before nudging purposely past him.

“Might have let your best friend know though.”

Ronald was internally begging for himself to shut up. To try and not make a bigger fool out of himself. He just couldn’t help it though. He was so upset with Harry and he just wanted to know why. Why had he lied, why had he even done it?

“Let you know what?” was Harry’s response. His tone was soft and his features were tired.

“You know bloody hell what.”

Harry’s face immediately went serious and defensive, “I didn’t ask for this to happen, Ron.”

And Ronald wanted to believe him. To tell him that it’ll all be okay, but he couldn’t. Ron was hurt. Extremely hurt.

“You’re being stupid,” was Harry’s other words. Ron turned to properly look at him before he huffed, blinking away the blinding tears that were threatening to fall.

He got under the thick duvet and then said,” Yeah, that’s me, Ron Weasley. Harry Potter’s stupid friend.”

The words stung for him to say out loud, though he knew they were true. That’s all he ever has been, and probably always will be.

Neville and Dean looked at them both with worry.

Ron and Harry never argue. It has always been them two (plus Hermione). Tons of people were jealous of their strong friendship.

Harry stood up, glancing over at the two other boys before standing in front of Ron’s bed.

“I didn’t put my name in that cup. I don’t want eternal glory.. I just wanna be..” Harry paused, thinking of what to say next.

Ron looked around the room, trying to look anywhere, but at Harry. He was seconds away from crying and he truly wanted to be left alone.

“Look..” Harry’s voice softened in the way Ron loves, “I don’t know what happened tonight and I don’t know why. It just did.”

He stared at Ron with such intensity, it made him want to melt.

There was still this nagging feeling going off in Ron’s mind, telling him that’s he a cheat. He’s lying.

Instead of answering Harry, he just laid down and turned the other way. Thankfully, Harry stormed off to his own bed with a melodramatic sigh leaving his lips.

When he heard Harry climb into the bed, Ron’s eyes had given up and were starting to release his tears. The never-ending rain outside poured it down, drowning out the noise of Ron’s tears and tiny hiccups.

He so badly wanted to go over to Harry’s bed and get under his duvet to cuddle. To cry into his bed shirt and tell Harry that he believes him and that they’ll find a way out of this, so that Harry doesn’t get hurt.

But he can’t, and he won’t.

And that is that.

Chapter Text

The next morning when Ron had woken up, his weary gaze subconsciously travelled across the boy’s dormitory, and to where Harry always slept. Usually, there would be a mop of black hair peaking out of the duvet, splaying across his pillow like a halo. Yet today, there was no sign of that (or anything, for that matter).

Instead, Harry’s bed seemed to have already been hastily and messily made. A sign that he has already gone to eat breakfast; not even bothering to wake Ronald up.

“The bloody git..” Ron murmured to himself, a hint of hurt straining in his raspy voice.

“Harry has gone to breakfast by the way,” Neville suddenly piped up, stating the obvious to Ron, “He was in a rush. Wouldn’t even talk to me or the others.”

Ronald could only sigh in response, nodding in Neville’s direction as he sat up in his bed. Neville gave him a small, comforting smile in return before he left the room, resulting in Ron being stuck alone with his own, dreadful thoughts. And, his pounding headache from all of the crying he did last night.

Running a hand through his stuck-up hair, Ron eventually stood up and decided to get dressed. He already knew he’d be slightly late for breakfast, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. At least he’d be avoiding Harry, who has probably already eaten and gone by now.

Looking over at the bright windows, he realised that the melancholic rain from the previous night was no longer pouring, though it was now replaced with soft breezes of early-autumn wind.

After quickly changing out of his pyjamas and into some weekend clothes, he made his way down to the great hall. Upon entering, Ron immediately noticed the lingering emptiness of where Harry often sits. Both worry and gratefulness washed over the red head at the perception.

As he tiredly sat down in his own seat, Hermione’s piercing eyes quickly became situated on Ron’s face. It’s as though she was trying to work, and calculate something out.

“Harry left a few minutes ago.”

Ron hummed vacantly at her words, as he began to pile his plate up with scrambled eggs, bacon, and other breakfast foods, to distract himself. In truth, he wasn’t even remotely hungry. Actually, he felt sick if he was being honest, particularly with the sight of the food laid out in front of him.

Ron’s idle reply only caused her to narrow her eyes suspiciously.

“He hardly ate anything. I can imagine that all of the childish gossip people are doing about him is off-putting, though,” she angrily explained, her gaze finally leaving Ron, and moving towards a group of giggling Hufflepuffs.

“Yeah, probably - “

Ron started to eat, shovelling the food into his mouth. Every chew and swallow was easily comparable to the texture of sandpaper.

Hermione stayed noiseless for a moment or two as he ate, her face scrunched up in deep concentration, before something seemingly clicked and her expression shifted to an alarmed look.

“You and Harry haven’t argued, right Ronald?”

The sentence made Ron drop his metal fork dramatically, the sound immediately causing a few people to turn, curiously, to their direction.

“Oh, Ronald!” she exclaimed, a pitiful look etched all over her face.

Ron looked away rapidly from the (almost) humiliating look Hermione was giving him. The tip of his ears began to turn an ugly red and his leg began to bounce, anxiously, under the table.

“I - I don’t know how to feel, ‘Mione. He lied to me, to you, to everyone. And yet he has the audacity to get mad at me, as though it was me who did wrong.”

Hermione softly smiled, despite her own, clear disappointment with the messy affair. Reaching across the table, she gently grabbed his freckled hand into her own. To any onlookers, it probably seemed like a romantic gesture. But to them two alone, it was a comforting, friendship grasp. One which calmed them both enormously.

“Who knows, Ron. Maybe Harry truly didn’t do this. No one can be too sure. Only time will tell, but everything will work out. I promise,” she insisted, trying to convince both Ron, and apparently, herself.

Every inch of Ron’s being held onto hope that she was right - as she always is - and that Harry really didn’t do this purposely.

Indeed, only time will tell.

———

Ron found out later that day through word, that Harry and the others had been photographed by Rita Skeeter, a writer for the Daily Prophet. She had also, apparently, individually asked them all questions - Harry going first. Most of the Wizarding world knew that she tended to lie or exaggerate the answers of her candidates, so Ron could only secretly wish that she hadn’t been too over-the-top with Harry.

For the rest of the day though, he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Harry. Ron wasn’t entirely surprised, especially after that argument they had the night prior. And he was definitely thankful he hadn’t seen him either since he was still extremely disheartened by Harry’s unfair actions. But it was also concerning that no one else had seen him since the Daily Prophet interview. It was Saturday, after all. The day when most students are enjoying their free-time with friends.

Hermione had somewhat managed to distract Ron nonetheless, the pair attempting to enjoy their spare time without thinking much about their ‘missing’ friend.

By the time everyone (besides from Harry) had eaten their dinner, later in the evening, Ron bid his goodbyes to Hermione and had gone straight up to the dormitory alone. In the room, he tried to joke with the others, but every laugh that left his mouth felt horribly fake. If the other three boys noticed there was something up, they didn’t comment on it.

By the time it was ten o ‘clock, everyone began to get ready for bed. No one mentioned the lack of Harry, and how he was now out past the curfew.

Soon after that, all of them got into their resonated beds. Hushed goodnights filled the room and then it went quiet. The Weasley listened carefully as Neville started to snore and Dean’s and Seamus’ breathing evened out.

Ron tried to follow suit and fall asleep, but he couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t rest and his body was feeling all jittery.

Where the bloody hell was Harry?

Time kept ticking and ticking and ticking, yet there was no sight of that unruly hair. Yes, Ron didn’t really want to face him, but he’d at least like to know he was safe.

As time went on, nothing had changed much - until it had. There was a sudden sound, a thump, which piqued Ron’s ears. Whilst he listened more closely, he heard some mumbling coming from the common room. Mumbling of a voice he knew all too well. Harry.

The time was around one in the morning, so why was he in the common room? And who was he even talking to?

Without hesitation, Ron carefully got out of bed, not wanting to rouse the other three boys up. He then slipped on his dressing gown, knowing that he’d be cold otherwise. Thankfully, they all seemed to be in a deep sleep, so he managed to leave the room without any incidents. Ron then walked softly down the stairs that led to the common room. As he got closer, Harry’s voice seemed to be getting louder and almost more frantic. Due to the distressed tone, Ron picked up his pace on the stairs.

When he had finally gotten to the bottom of the stoned-spiral steps, Ron noticed Harry was walking, briskly away from the fire.

“Who’re you talking to?” Ron asked, stepping into the common room with faux confidence.

“What? I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Harry quickly said, clearly lying. He has always been a terrible liar.

“I heard voices,” Ron verbalised, his eyebrows furrowed at the forceful denial coming from his friend.

Harry took a step closer, and then he stopped. Contemplating things.

“Maybe you’re imaging things.. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ronald felt his false confidence waver, an inconsolable feeling washing over him at the words. It was painful to hear.

Besides from being a rubbish liar, Harry also never thought before he spoke. It was a horrible trait, particularly when he can be quite harsh with his sentences.

The older boy was mute for a few seconds. His lips pressed into a thin line, before he finally chose his next words, “You’re probably just practicing for your next interview, I expect.”

Ron had read about it on the front page of the Daily Prophet at dinner time. It didn’t take long for Rita to write about her wretched interview with Harry and the other participants..

When it was clear Harry wasn’t going to saying anything else, Ronald turned to storm the direction he came and went back up the stairs. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest at the brief conversation. The two hadn’t spoke all day and Harry didn’t even seem remotely bothered! In fact, he was practicing for the future fame he would endure from the stupid tournament.

That selfish, selfish, handsome, selfish prick. How dare he be so careless to Ronald’s feelings? If he only understood the way Ron felt about him.

The longing, the pain, the love. All of it.

Trudging back to his bed, he plopped himself down and tucked himself back under the covers. A few stray tears slipped out of his eyes before they were harshly wiped away. He was not going to spend another night crying over Harry.

———

The next day was similar to Saturday. By the time Ron had woken up, Harry had gone - nevertheless, Ron was genuinely unsure if he even came to bed in the first place. Regardless, at breakfast, he wasn’t there either.

Ron wasn’t bothered. If Harry wanted to be a difficult, arrogant prick, then so be it.

Hermione didn’t mention Harry’s name at all, even as she read her own copy of the newspaper, which had the bloody last name ‘Potter’ all over it.

After another dissatisfying breakfast, Hermione and Ron met Ginny outside. She immediately conjured up a conversation with Hermione, leaving Ron to be the odd-one out. Usually, Harry would be there and they’d talk whilst the girls entertained one-another. But now, there was no Harry.

“..Harry,” Ginny trailed off, staring at Ron expectantly with her blue eyes.

“What?” he retorted, his movements put on halt at the name.

Ginny rolled her eyes playfully, “ You know, how do you feel about Harry being in the Triwizard tournament?”

Ron scoffed at the question as he began to walk again. Ginevra pulled a face at the reaction and Hermione smacked his arm.

“Ron, please. You’re completely blowing this out of proportion now! I know you’re rightly angry and so am I, but we can’t keep on like this forever. We’re going to go and find him and tell him exactly what Seamus told you this morning,” she asserted.

“Do we have to?”

She gave him a warning glance before grabbing his arm and yanking him to follow her. As they got closer to where Harry supposedly was, Ron ripped his arm out of her grip.

“Please can you tell him at least? I don’t want to talk to the prat!” he angrily muttered.

“Look, it’s already been through enough people. Why don’t you just go and talk to him yourself?!” Hermione whisper-shouted, whilst they began to approach Neville and Harry.

Ron tried to shush her, but this only caused her to perilously sigh, “ Ron, this is your problem..”

Though she knew it was useless trying to argue and make him speak to Harry. Taking a deep breath in, she asked, “ What do you want me to say again?”

Ron muttered into her ear what he had been told at breakfast, though his eyes remained trained on a moving Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned around to face Harry, marching closer towards him with impatience. Harry stood with confusion, his own stare stuck on Ron’s desperate one.

“Ronald would like me to tell you.. That Seamus told him that, “she paused, trying to remember what she had been asked to say, “Dean was told by Parvati, that Hagrid’s looking for you.”

“Is that right?” his voice boomed, eyes fiercely questioning Ron’s, like it was him that had just spoke, not Hermione.

“Well,” he began confidently, though his face soon scrunched up, “What?”

“Erm,” Hermione turned to look at Ron pleadingly. She then turned around and went back over to him.

Ginny and Neville watched silently in the background, finding this equally amusing and confusing.

“Why don’t you do this?” Hermione mouthed, though Ronald repeatedly told her he couldn’t.

The witch then went back over to Harry again, “Dean was told by Parvati that - please don’t ask me to say it again. Hagrid’s looking for you.”

It was tense for a second and then she divided away from Harry before he had time to speak.

“Well you can tell Ron -“

The way his name rolled off of Harry’s tongue made said boys stomach clench, in fear and love. The way he said the name was jarring - it was as though it was poison.

“I’m not an owl!” Hermione instantly shouted. It was plain to see she was frustrated with the pettiness of both boys.

Hermione soon stormed off out of the wooded-area, her arm snuggly wrapped around Ginny’s shoulders. Ronald didn’t move for a while though. He just stared. Stared at the green eyes, at the black hair, at the handsome face. Ron really wanted to tell Neville to piss off, so he could talk to Harry and apologise (and kiss him).

But he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t.

Harry mirrored Ron’s actions, though his expression was blocked off and quite strident.

Finally shaking back to reality, Ron left. His legs felt wobbly, along with his lips. He took one last look at Harry as he walked, longing for Harry to beg him to stay.

But he didn’t.

And for the rest of the day, he didn’t see Harry. Hermione refused to talk to him as well, rage still running through her system at how pathetic her two friends were acting.

His Sunday instead was spent with Fred and George as they laughed and joked. They did notice their brothers mood, and they did try to make him talk about it. He profoundly refused, trying to change the subject each time one of them brought it up. Luckily, the twins didn’t say much more afterwards.

Badges.

The next day, there were bloody badges everywhere. Almost every Hogwarts student had one. Ron had been asked if he wanted one, but he harshly refused.

These magical badges started off with Cedric Diggory’s handsome face, and then they swirled into Harry’s face. A font above him, reading, ‘Potter Stinks.’ Others, purely just had the text without his face. Throughout the crowded halls, everyone mockingly laughed at the badges. It seemed most had begun to loathe Harry.

Ron wandered in the corridors, Seamus stuck to his side, blabbering things about people and his classes. He wasn’t Harry, he wasn’t even remotely as fun as Harry.

Harry.

Ron watched as Harry rushed over to him, hands clinging onto his shoulder bag in a worried manner. The boy had stopped when he was in front of Ron, preventing him from moving any further.

“You’re a right foul git, you know that,” Harry started, body slightly shaking with pent-up anger.

The words stabbed at Ron’s chest, plunging only more hurt into his system. It seems Harry has been obsessed with doing this recently.

“You think so?” Ronald challenged, taking a step closer to Harry.

He inwardly prayed that Harry didn’t say anything else. Ron’s poor heart couldn’t take much more. He was hopelessly in love with Potter, and hearing him speak such words, truly killed him.

“I know so,” Harry stated like it was a fact, his glasses briefly slithering down his nose.

Ron was struck on what to say for a moment. His throat was clogging up and nausea twisted in his stomach, “Anything else?”

He wasn’t sure why he had said that. He didn’t want to know what other discordant sentence Harold could conjure up.

Harry himself stuttered at the question, apprehension drowning his flawless features.

“Yeah, stay away from me!”

Fine.

If that’s what he bloody wanted, then that’s what he’d get.

“Fine,” Ron said, shoving past Harry as hard as he could, their shoulders nudging into one-another.

Seamus followed swiftly behind him, not sparing a glance at Harry either. They both rushed across the courtyard, ignoring the annoying shouts of Malfoy’s voice. When they were far away from Harry and other students, the Irish boy clasped his tense arm.

“Hey, are you okay after that, Ron?”

Ron wanted to remain strong and to tell him that he was great, perfectly great. But he couldn’t, because he wasn’t. So instead, Ron launched into a gloomy sob. Upon the sudden reveal of emotion, Seamus pulled the red head into his arms.

“I just - I bloody hate him,” he cried, “And still, I love him. I love him so much. Oh, Merlin.”

Seamus sighed softly, rubbing the other boys back soothingly.

“I understand..” he established, but Ron cut him off.

“You - you don’t though. I love him.. I love him more than just a friend,” he admitted.

Seamus was now the second person to know, besides from Hermione. It was the biggest relief he had felt in a while.

“I love Dean more than just a friend, so I do understand, you idiot.”

Ron should’ve been amazed or surprised at the new information, but he wasn’t. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if it was new information. It feels as though it’s always been known.

Regardless of that, it felt nice to know that Ron wasn’t the only one who had to experience unrequited love.