The Bet | Harmione

Chapter 1.6

"Ron—" The annoyed tone that he was so familiar with was back.

"But no!"

"Nothing happened! Nothing changed! I thought I was going mad, honestly. It was clear as day to me, but why couldn't my two best friends—who everyone always said were smarter and braver than me—see it? After you saw her almost die in front of you in the Department of Mysteries, didn't that wake something up inside of you, Harry? Neville told me, you know, how you almost collapsed right then and there. Like your entire world had ended. How you kept murmuring to yourself, begging for her to be alive."

"Harry?" Hermione turned to him, her eyes wide. "You never told me about that."

Harry's face had turned white and his hand was clenched into a fist. "I don't like remembering that moment. You almost died because of me. Because of me and my stupidity."

"Stupidity is the right word for it," Ron scoffed. "Don't tell me the reason you kept a distance from Hermione in sixth year was because you felt guilty?"

Harry remained silent and Hermione let out a soft cry: "Oh, Harry. No." .

Ron groaned. "Come on, man! Even the braindead Lockhart type heroes in those trash novels my mum reads know what to do after an experience like that. You kiss the girl! You go after her! You tell her how much she means to you, how you can't live without her and all of that mushy stuff."

"How do you know what happens in those novels?" Harry asked in a steely voice.

Bollocks. Ron tried to keep his cool after that little detail had slipped out.

"I'm... wounded that you would try to change the subject when I'm trying to have a heart to heart talk here. Wounded." He put his hand to his chest. "In fact, I...I think I need to sit down...this is bringing back my traumatic experiences...it was torture waiting for you two to see the light. Worse than torture."

"Honestly, Ron. This is becoming so unbelievably dramatic." Hermione sighed. "At the end of the day, Harry and I getting together has nothing to do with you—"

"Nothing to do with me!? Say that again, Hermione. Say it to my face!" He started pacing again, stopping periodically to wag his finger threateningly at the couple staring at him with matching baffled expressions.

"You don't get to say that to me. Oh, no. Sixth year was the last straw! It's all coming back to me... the people in the betting pool started having their doubts. Started spreading rumors that I was the third wheel in the relationship—the jealous one that was preventing Harry from confessing because he wanted to spare my feelings. The one you would settle on because you thought you had no chance with Harry. Excuse me! How in the name of Merlin's underpants was any of that my fault!?"

"Wait!" Harry raised his voice. "Does that mean... does that mean you've never liked Hermione?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then back at Harry with equally disdainful expressions.