closer

chapter 2

- ron

"Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl. My sources speculate that the couple-"

Scowling, I shut the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter's words playing in my head. Couple.
I could see Harry and Hermione on the other side of the table; laughing and chatting about as platonically as you can get - so why am I still jealous? I poked at the toast on my plate.
"Ron, mate. You good?" Dean asked.
A deflated "Yeah" was all I could manage.
"You need to get over it man. Everyone knows Harry didn't do it, surely you'd believe that, of all people!" added Seamus.
But I don't. Over the last few months, there were times when he'd sit quietly with an odd look in his eye, would shoot down questions when I'd ask what was wrong. Then his name got drawn... what else wouldn't he tell me?
"I'm going to go get some juice. I'll be back in a bit." I mumbled, brushing it off.

I sauntered over to the drinks, and was pouring some lumpy orange juice when Hermione appears beside me.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, holding up the article I was reading. "Have you seen this? It's ridiculous. Skeeter is such a nasty piece of work, you know not a word she wrote about Harry is true!"
"Yes, of course I do. Would have been nice to hear from him though."
Hermione sighed. "I still don't understand why you're so upset with Harry. You know he's telling you the truth. What's bothering you so much?" she asked, glancing over at Harry.
"I know he's not telling me something. That must be it, it all makes sense."
"Does it really?" whispered Hermione. "I've seen the way he looks at you. How miserable he is when you're not around. Make sense of that."
She slung her bag over her shoulder, and paraded out of the hall.
"Barking mad." I mutter, sipping my juice and returning to the table. The usual breakfast Quidditch talk between Dean and Seamus was starting up again and Neville was trying to understand, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"Yeah, but the thing about the Cannons is that they always play with strategy-" began Seamus.
"Not strategic about cheating though, are they? The Harpies always play a nice clean..."
Dean's voice dissipated into the background.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry looking at me. Sort of shyly, the odd one I'd seen before, from across the classroom or the dorm.

"The way he looks at you ... How miserable he is when you're not around."

The truth hit me like a blow to the chest - my body catching up with the weight of the fact there just wasn't any doubt around.
There was only one explanation, really. Something he'd keep from me; something I was so oblivious to that I'd accuse him of lying about the Tournament before even considering it as a possibility.