Everything Black | Harry Potter

5. Ghost

They were quiet for a time; Harry having pulled out his 4th-year Magical Theory book –he was slowly but surely making his way through the curriculum–, and Ron watching fields of cows and sheep and lanes flick past.

Around half-past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry, in a moment of childish nostalgia, leapt to his feet and went out into the corridor.

He knew better than most how sensitive subject money was for the Weasleys. He always hated how in the past, every attempt of Harrys' to reduce their load had been firmly rebuffed.

He understood their want to earn the money they make; Harry always had and was always going to respect that.

It would hardly be his fault if every-so-often, a mysterious sum of money appeared in their vault, or if a hidden stash of forgotten galleons would somehow find itself between two cushions on their favourite couch.

With that, Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never quite gotten 'round to trying previously, got into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry with an amused smile, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

The other boy had done that a lot, Ron thought. Smile –almost absently– with this faraway look in his eye, as he had thought of something funny. It had a sort of fond glint to it. It happened quite a couple of times while Ron was talking –at first Ron had thought he was boring the other boy–, but it didn't seem like he was internally making fun of him. It was almost like. . . almost like the other boy knew a secret about the universe that nobody else knew, and every-so-often he remembered he was the only one who knew it. It wasn't smug in any way – in fact, at times it seemed sadder in a way.

Though Ron has no idea what kind of secret would make a smile seem amused, fond, absent and sad at the same time; but then again, it wasn't Ron's job to wonder about these kinds of things.

Ron noticed. That's what Ron does. He never really does anything about what he notices, but he notices all the same.

It was a strange sort of thing, Ron thought. Not strange weird, just strange. . . different. Mind made up, he decided that it suited the other boy.

It made sense that The-Boy-Who-Lived would know a secret about the universe.

But no, Ron thought, peering discreetly at the other boy. Somehow that didn't quite fit.

He thought on it for a moment, and then decided it was not 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' who knew the secret. It was Harry.

The boy underneath.

Just Harry.

Happy with his conclusion, Ron stopped thinking about it.

Unaware to Ron's ponderings, Harry watched the other boy had take out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef. . "

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, insisting forcefully when the other boy started to protest. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

It was something the two of them used to do a lot, but never quite had time for as the years went by. Always one crisis or another taking up their time.