Marauders - Always - Part One

CXLVII: I'm Not An Owl

"He could've at least clued me in," Ron whined all the way up the stairs. "I know I wouldn't have won or whatever, of course not, not even a bloody cup would pick me as a champion..." He scowled and shook his head. "I mean obviously it would choose Harry over me, right?" Ron looked at Hermione.

Hermione had shrugged, "Well, Harry is a bit practiced, I mean, only because of all the rubbish You Know Who has put him through," she said nervously, unable to get Harry's nervous expression out of her mind. "I mean, I can see why if his name was in the Goblet it might choose Harry. He's very brave and he's rather strong, isn't he?"

"Strong?" Ron scowled.

Hermione shrugged.

Ron had only gotten worse and worse - and by the time Fred and George had appeared in the Common Room with bottles of Butterbeer and gobs of snacks from the kitchens, Ron was saying his head ached and he had to go upstairs to bed.

"You ought to take an elixir for your headache," Hermione said, "I'm sure if we went to Pomfrey she would --"

"I think I'm strong enough to handle a headache, 'Mione!" Ron had snapped and tromped up the steps to the boys' dorm.

"Really," she'd huffed, scowling.

Harry had taken such a good deal of time to get upstairs that the party was loud and in full swing and he didn't look much in the mood to talk about any of it, fighting off Lee Jordan who was trying to tie a Gryffindor banner about Harry's neck, and hurrying upstairs away from the party. Hermione hoped that he and Ron talked it out a bit before morning.

However, they hadn't.

Next morning, when Hermione got up and Ron came down from the dorms alone to go to breakfast, where he complained about Harry's infidelity to anyone who would listen - which, granted, wasn't many at the Gryffindor table. There was far more enthusiasm about Harry's getting to be a champion than there were people willing to commiserate with Ron on the subject of having been supposedly betrayed by Harry's name being in the cup. 

"You're being stupid," Hermione said.

Ron's face went flush. "Of course I am. Stupid Ron; everything I do is stupid, innit?"

Hermione had sighed. "If you cared about your friend for a second you'd see this isn't about you, Ronald."

"It never is," he'd answered bitterly.

And that was when she'd decided she'd had enough of his attitude, collected a large stack of toast, and muttered, "I'll talk to you when you're willing to see more reason!" to which he had snorted and watched her leave without much care about it. 

Hermione was just reaching the portrait hole in Gryffindor Tower when Harry came out of the common room, looking miserable.

"Hello," Hermione greeted him. "I brought you this." She held up the toast. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry.

Outside, it was chilly and there was a slight frost on the grass that made everything sparkle a bit. The Durmstrang ship sat quiet on the water of the lake, and Hermione listened as Harry described what had happened after he left the Great Hall the night before. Harry's tone was so morose and sad, Hermione couldn't help but. believe him.

"Well of course I know you hadn't entered yourself," she said, "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right, Harry, I don't think any student could have done it... they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's ---"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione sighed. "Yes.... he was at breakfast."

"And does he still think I entered myself?"