Bad Blood: A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter Eight

Harry

After a long day of many classes, I finally pack up my things from class and saunter down the steps. Today is Friday, but we do not have Quidditch practice tonight; I decided to give the players a break. This is my first free weekend since school has started, and it's going to be very nice to not have practice.

I fight my way through the crowd that has assembled in the corridor. Up ahead, I see a head of brown, wavy tresses, rushing through the multitude of people: Hermione. She and I haven't really spent much time together since about a week ago, since she went to Quidditch practice with me. Ever since then, something's changed about her. I can't quite distinguish it, but she's not the same.

"Hermione!" I call. I rush to attempt to catch up with her, meandering around the people. Goodness, to have a book-bag full of an infinite number of books, she sure can move fast. Eventually, I lose her in the crowd and give up.

"Hey, mate," Someone says from behind me. I turn around to see Ron. He skips into step beside me.

"Hey," I answer, "What're you doing on your first free weekend?"

"Not much, I suppose," He replies, "I just might stop by the Quidditch pitch."

"Stop by the Quidditch pitch? Really? This is supposed to be your time away from it," I laugh, and he shrugs.

For a little while, we walk in silence, pushing our way through the persistent crowd. Then, he asks a very sudden question: "Has Hermione said anything about me?"

I have to contemplate my answer. Honestly, she hasn't said much about him, and Ron hasn't said much about her. They haven't talked for two weeks. I decide to tell him the truth.

"No," I simply say, and he looks down at his feet.

After a pause, he mutters, "I don't know what's going on."

"What?"

"With Hermione," He adds.

"Well, I don't think you're... Usually when... When you're dating," I say, putting emphasis on the last word, "you usually talk to them, you know, at least once in two weeks. You know, just a thought."

Ron grimaces. "Feeling sassy, are you?"

"A tad." I try to walk away, for I feel that the conversation is about to enter an awkward state, but he grabs my shoulder.

"It's really ridiculous, isn't it," He asks, "One little fight- about Malfoy, at that-" He speaks venomously, "and she doesn't talk to me for two weeks!"

"To be fair, you weren't being-" I begin, but he cuts me off, rambling.

"-and I don't know what she wants me to do! But I guess a benefit of this is that she's avoiding Malfoy, too..." He says, flailing his arms oddly. I wonder what this conversation looks like to someone else.

"She's not," I whisper.

"What?" He asks, his face bright red.

"She's not avoiding Malfoy now," I explain, and his eyes widen. I probably shouldn't have told him this. For a few seconds, he processes the information.

"What the... How is she..." He seems to be incapable of finishing his sentences. "I swear! I swear I'll get him! I've already told him once! He's... He's brainwashed her!" He begins to storm away, but I grab his shoulder this time.

"Ron, you know as well as I do that violence-" I begin, but he interrupts me. A flame seems to have been kindled behind his eyes, fueled by anger.

"Yeah, violence doesn't solve anything, but I'm going to try my luck at it." He spits, and before I can stop him, he stomps away, his rage displayed in the way he carries himself. People back away as he approaches, for he looks dangerous. And I have learned that he can be.