Emerald Eyes - HP one-shots

Four Gryffindors

This story takes place in The Half-Blood Prince. AU.

He shook his head ruefully, running a hand through his mop of damp, black hair. He was disappointed—not with the victory, but with his closest friends. Had he further damaged their already tenuous relationship with his Felix Felicis stunt?

Harry was deep in thought as he exited the Quidditch locker room, making his way to the castle with the last few post-match stragglers. A sinking feeling was bothering him, but he couldn't quite get a grasp on it as he kept walking. He came to a halt as it hit him, the pieces falling into place.

If his friends continued along this path, he could only see misery. One of them would take it too far and they'd have a big blow up, followed by weeks or months of arguments. He'd get stuck in-between, and it was the last thing he needed with everything else going on. It was selfish of him, but their support was one of the few things he could count on.

He was aware of why each of them was upset, even if they didn't, and that key information is what made him so uncomfortable. It was like third-year all over again, but the stakes were higher this time considering what was happening outside of the school. Even he had guessed the feelings they harboured for one another and was almost certain that their current fight would end in heartbreak.

He certainly didn't want to get involved, but he could do something to prevent things from getting worse.

Despite his apprehension, a sense of urgency seized him, as though every minute, every second could make a difference in salvaging whatever disaster his friends were clearly heading towards. He set off at a run, pushing past a couple of first-years, and reached the large interior entryway of Hogwarts, just in time to catch a familiar head of bushy brunette hair stomping up the stairs.

Frantically, he was forced to shout. "Hermione, wait!"

She stopped and turned, giving him a surprised look as he took the stairs two-at-a-time, cutting around some of his fellow students.

"Harry, whatever is the matter?"

He panted and slowed down for a moment, his legs jelly from the effort after already having played an important match.

"I know why Ron's so upset," Harry gasped. "Promise me you'll just stay here for a few minutes while I go talk to him. Then I'll tell you everything."

She frowned. "Humph, I don't even want to think about Ron right now. He's been acting like such a... Like such a prat!"

Harry shook his head, something spurring him to hurry up as he pleaded with her. "Please, just hear me out."

She crossed her arms and leaned against the stone rail on the second-floor landing. "Fine."

Harry didn't even acknowledge this as he tore up the staircase toward the Gryffindor Common Room. The low rumble of the victory celebration indicated he was close. He turned the corner just as the sound reached a crescendo.

Chants of "Weasley! Weasley!" greeted his ears as he spotted his best friend, who was just about to step through the portrait hole to meet his adoring fans. His cheeks were flushed with pride, his eyes glassy, but Harry had a weird feeling that if Ron entered that party, somehow, things would get even worse between him and Hermione.

"Ron!"

Harry raced to his tall, redheaded friend and grabbed his arm, hauling him away from the doorway. He ignored the chorus of boos and protests before slamming the portrait shut, much to the consternation of The Fat Lady.

Ignoring her loud complaints, Ron rounded on Harry. "What the hell, mate?"

Harry hunched over, placing his hands on his thighs as he desperately tried to slow his breathing.