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She knew exactly where to find him.
He was already in the Great Hall when she came down for breakfast, alone and quiet, sitting apart from the handful of Gryffindors who were awake this early on a Sunday morning. He looked to have been there for some time, because he was staring morosely at his half-eaten plate, picking at the now soggy bacon which was drenched with broken egg yolk.
She didn’t know why she had paused at the entrance; every single instinct inside her had screamed at her to run to him at that moment and say... something. She had no idea what, not even the faintest clue, but there was something about the way he sat--shoulders slumped in defeat and head hung low--that called to her. When she finally did snap out of her reverie and started to make her way towards him, it was too late. Ron had pushed the plate away from himself and got up, making his way towards the other exit.
But she had a feeling she knew where he was headed, and she was right.
Wrapping her cloak around her to fight against the bite of the morning wind, she watched him as he sat at the edge of the lake, mindlessly tossing bits of toast into the water. Despite everything, she had to smile; she’d seen both him and Harry do the very thing all too often on those idle Sunday afternoons when they’d drag her out here to study. But today, he was all by himself, without his partner in crime, and though she’d probably be the last person he’d admit it to, she knew he was completely miserable.
“Hey,” she said, nudging him slightly on the shoulder.
He looked up at her, squinting in the light of the sun, and gave her a smile. She knew it must have taken a lot for him to put up a brave front for her, and she returned his smile and sat down beside him.
“Feeding the giant squid again, I see.”
He tossed another piece of toast into the water and smiled without looking at her, a wan smile that told her all she needed to know.
“Reckoned one of us should get to eat this rubbish,” he muttered.
“Ron...”
“Don’t, please,” he said.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
He turned beside him to look at her and arched an eyebrow. “C’mon, I’ve known you for over three years,” he said. “You don’t think I can tell how your mind works?”
For some reason, the comment made her blush, but she supposed she was out of danger because he’d turned his attention back on the lake again.
“He didn’t do it, you know,” she said. “And don’t tell me you don’t believe that deep down inside.”
“Hermione, please stay out of this. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a gesture that got his attention apparently, because he met her gaze once more.
“Right, I’m only the one who gets the pleasure of watching you two gits avoid speaking to each other,” she said.
“How do you even know we’re not speaking to each other?”
She cocked her head at him and gave him her best, you’ve-got-to-be-joking look, which, as she expected, he didn’t appreciate very much.
“What?”
“You were having breakfast by yourself.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“So you never have breakfast without Harry and me.”
“Maybe I wanted to get up early, to...” He flung his last piece of toast into the water. “... to visit with my friend the squid here.”
“Oh Ron, do you really think you’re fooling anyone?” she said. She placed a hand on his shoulder and felt him tense momentarily at her touch, but she didn’t move her hand away. “I saw the look on your face when his name was called.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Great. Come to lecture me, then?
“What?” she said. “What are you on about?”
He gave her a sideways glance then looked down on the ground, picking several blades of grass from the ground and twirling them between his thumb and forefinger.
“Why are you here, Hermione?”
His voice sounded so sad; Hermione had never heard him speak in that tone before and she was unprepared for how much it affected her.
“Because you need a friend, Ron.”
“So does Harry,” he said. “Why aren’t you consoling your best friend?”
Her mouth fell open at the remark, and without even thinking, she reached over to tilt his chin up to look him in the eye. He seemed taken aback by her touch at first, but met her gaze nevertheless.
“I am.”
He seemed confused by her words, or else surprised. And suddenly, his eyes flicked down to her hand, which--she realized--was still holding his chin up. Sensing his discomfort, sensing her own, she took down her hand.
“You’re my best friend too, Ron,” she said. “You know that. I’m here for both of you.”
He broke the stare to look straight ahead at the ripples moving across the surface of the lake, and his cheeks burned red as he shrugged his cloak up in response to another burst of the wind.
“I think... maybe he needs you more this time around.”
“Why?”
“Because-”
He seemed to stop himself deliberately, taking a deep breath as he continued to look out intently ahead of him.
“Just because, all right?”
“Why don’t you just talk to me, Ron?” She wanted him to look at her again, wanted him to show her that he trusted her too. She didn’t know why it seemed so important to her at that moment, but it was.
Finally, he looked down, letting out a sigh and shaking his head.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say, Hermione,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because, it’s...”
“Say it. Come on, just say it, will you? You know it’ll make you feel better to get it out.”
“I can’t!”
“Why?”
He rose, and Hermione realized with a panic that he was about to walk away, so she sprang to her feet and managed to grab hold of his arm before he did.
“Hermione, I feel enough of an arse just thinking it, all right? Don’t make me say it. Please.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Did he think she would think any less of him for being less than perfect? Did he actually think she’d turn her back on him now?
“Don’t swear,” she said, giving him a small smile.
He began to laugh, then shook his head once more. “It’s true and you know it.”
She let go of his arm, knowing that this time, he would stay. And as if grateful for the small sign of trust she showed him, he looked back at her again and let out a slow, heavy exhale.
“I’m jealous, all right?” he said softly, cringing as he the words came out. “There, I said it. Are you happy now? Are you happy to know that your best friend is nothing but a dirty great prat who’s jealous of someone who’s been like a brother to him for three years?”
“Ron-”
“Say it, go ahead,” he said. “Tell me I’m awful. Tell me I’m being selfish and stupid for being angry at him right now. Tell me I’m wrong for finally reaching my limit of everyone thinking I’m nobody special because I don’t live up to my brothers’ talents, and my best friend is the boy-who-lived and my other best friend is the school’s smartest witch. Tell me you hate me for thinking all these things-”
“Ron, I don’t hate you.”
She took a step towards him, tentatively, for she wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“I could never hate you.”
He tore his eyes away and looked towards the lake again. “You should.”
“Why, because you’re human?” she said. “Because you’re letting yourself feel something that’s probably been building up for years but you’ve never taken the chance to admit to anyone?”
“I’m not supposed to get angry at my best friend, Hermione.”
“Says who?” She poked him on the shoulder to get him to face her. “You and I haven’t had our share of... lively conversations?”
He smiled--she caught him--and let out a laugh.
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“It’s... I mean... you and I...”
“... are best friends,” she said. “And we don’t stop being friends just because we get angry with each other from time to time, do we?”
“No, I s’pose not.”
She sighed. “So why let this stop you talking to him?”
“I just can’t, Hermione. Not right now.”
He shifted from one foot to the other, and she could tell he was struggling with this.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really I am,” he said. “But I think... this is just going to take some time, all right? I think I... need to deal with some things once and for all before...”
She nodded, telling him wordlessly that he needn’t finish the sentence because she understood. She patted his arm and smiled when he met her gaze.
“I... suppose I’ll head back now,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Reckoned you’ve worked up quite an appetite now, haven’t you?”
“I can stay as long as you need me to.”
He smiled, and somehow Hermione knew what he was trying to convey in the smile.
“Go,” he said quietly. “He’ll need you when he wakes up.”
She started to make her way back to the Great Hall when she heard him call out to her and she turned to look at him.
“You’re wrong,” he shouted out.
“What?”
He laughed softly.
“You’re wrong about us getting angry with each other.” He came up to where she stood, towering over her so that she had to look up to meet his eyes. “We never really get angry with each other when we row, do we?”
His eyes twinkled with a smile, and Hermione felt herself smile as well.
“No,” she said, “I suppose we don’t.”
She heard him say a quiet thank you as she made her way back.