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The Best Friend

Chapter 3: The Best Friend

"Are you even listening?"

"What?" Hermione snapped unceremoniously.

"I'm trying to tell you about Malfoy – "

"Harry James Potter," she seethed intensely, "if I hear another word about that smug bastard, I might lose my mind. Can't we have a normal breakfast? Surely there is something we can discuss that doesn't relate to that loathsome cockroach."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances from across the table; as usual, Ron was sitting to her right.

He patted her knee. "Sure, Mione. How are the, er . . . ancient runes?"

Hermione looked down at Ron's hand on her knee and thought about placing hers on top as an indication of gratitude. With every passing year (and every harrowing near-death experience) her relationship with Ron had crawled at a slow, syrupy pace to something more, but neither had been able to put a finger on it. Her relationship with Harry had always been very cut and dry: they were friends, practically siblings, and she doubted that would ever change. But it was always a little bit different with Ron.

Ultimately she grimaced, deciding against it. It was sweet of him to try, but that conversation clearly wasn't going anywhere. They had never had an academic discussion at any point in their friendship, and neither Harry nor Ron was even taking Ancient Runes.

But Malfoy was.

She wrinkled her nose and sniffed affectedly. "Nevermind. Carry on."

Excitedly, Ron turned back to Harry. "So what did you see?"

"He was with two girls, first years maybe – "

"Ugh!" Hermione interrupted. "Of course he was. Is every girl here completely stupid?"

"That's not it, though," Harry said, leaning in and whispering. "I think they were keeping watch for him."

Hermione shot a wary glance at Ron. He knew that she found Harry's obsession with Malfoy to be at best unwarranted, and at worst a complete waste of their time. He had even agreed with her – albeit quietly – on a number of occasions. But seeing his eyes wide while entertaining Harry's conspiracy theories, she knew he would never openly disagree with Harry. She supposed she would have to play along.

"Where were they?" she asked.

"Coming back from the seventh floor, I think," Harry guessed. "Not sure."

"So you don't actually know anything about what he's been up to, then," she said, pursing her lips slightly. As much as she wanted to make an effort not to be obtuse, she couldn't contain her irritation. "This is all just another fun game of 'further discussions contemplating Malfoy's evil genius,' is it?"

Harry simply glared at her. She caught Ron's pleading glance and sighed.

"I suppose he has been a bit distracted lately," she conceded. "I tried to get him to focus on our potion this morning bu – "

Harry snapped his fingers excitedly. "Brilliant!"

"What's brilliant?"

"You're partners with Malfoy," Harry said, grinning mischievously. "You can tell us what he's up to."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course," she said with mock enthusiasm. "No doubt he will open up to me, his very favorite person and closest confidante. Should be no problem at all!"

"Still, it's more than either of us are going to get off him," Harry mused absentmindedly. He turned around as Dean Thomas called his name, rushing out a hurried "be right back" and clambering over to where Dean was sitting. Hermione was somewhat relieved at his absence.