It was a rotten kind of day before Ron even rolled out of bed in the morning. By the time he got up and dressed Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already downstairs in the Great Hall, no doubt happily tucked into their breakfast. Harry, apparently, was having a lie in, as he was still sound asleep when Ron was set to head downstairs. Ron resented him immensely for it. He was tempted to throw something at his once best friend to end his comfy little doze, but Ron didn't fancy having to deal with him once Harry woke. Just as like it would lead to some really unpleasant row, and Ron didn't fancy insults for breakfast. So Ron silently scowled his heart out at Harry instead and left the boys' dorm… just as Hermione, dressed for the day, was bounding up the stairs.

"Oh! Morning, Ron," she greeted him in passing, absently, all too eager to hurry past him in her bloody rush to get up to Harry. She acted like there wasn't a damn thing wrong with her just barging right into the boys' dorm room. And she stepped past him with that mere off-hand hello, as though it wasn't colored a thousand shades of buggered. She wasn't even sorry or ashamed. He resented her for that. Maybe not as much as he resented Harry, but Hermione had earned her share of it, the way Ron figured.

They both should have bloody well told him. No, they shouldn't have done it in the first place, but at the leastthey should have had the decency to tell him. Not that it would have changed anything, Ron would still be spitting furious at the both of them for the whole mess, but it would have been the friend thing to do.

Some bloody good friends he turned out to have.

Ron shoved his way into the space on the Gryffindor table next to Seamus that was hardly wide enough for Colin Creevey to squeeze into, let alone Ron's larger frame. Ron had taken to spending his free time with Seamus and Dean, but oftentimes it hardly seemed they wanted him around. Assumed he belonged in another lot, most like, and Ron was mad at Harry and Hermione for that, too. He couldn't fit in properly with anyone else because of that stupid 'Hogwarts trio' label the three of them seemed to carry. Like Ron couldn't expect a place outside of Harry and Hermione's clemency.

'Well, they can just go screw themselves,' Ron thought lividly. When the double entendre of his own thoughts clicked he took it out on his bacon. Seamus noticed Ron then, once the redhead was flaying his bacon with a vengeance.

Ron seemed cursed to look up from his plate of shredded pig-meat at the very moment that Harry and Hermione came down to the Great Hall. Together.

The only spot open enough for the both of them to sit next to one another, because Merlin forbid they have to part for the duration of breakfast, was unfortunately close to where Ron had weaseled his way on to the bench. He had a floor seat to the whole repugnant Harry and Hermione show.

Ron hated how he couldn't turn off the masochistic side of him that made him notice every ugly detail. How Harry's hand strayed to Hermione's shoulder just there, how the moony-eyed sappy girls up and down Gryffindor table sighed like it was so ruddy romantic, how Harry leaned in toward her to reach for the eggs when he could and should have asked her to pass them, how Hermione smiled at him. Ron threw down his fork with a clatter and gulped down a good amount of pumpkin juice like it was last call. He had to make a supreme effort not to acknowledge the bewildered looks from the guilty parties in question when he brought down his cup. Last thing he wanted was to explain himself to Harry and Hermione. Beside him, Seamus was jinxing a link of sausage to take flight and beat a deserving Slytherin about the head. Ron feigned interest. It was someplace else for Ron to look but at Harry and Hermione, at least until they forgot about him again. Which took all of three seconds.

And to top off breakfast, the insult to a morning of injuries, Ginny had to butt in.

"Morning, gorgeous! Don't you look tussled. Long night?" she leveled that smile at Harry, the one Ron had seen Ginny use on the dragon-keepers in Romania. The one that made his skin crawl and his blood boil with brotherly ire. How dare his sister know she was a girl and doubly how dare she use it. And worst of all, directed at Harry. Ron would almost prefer Ginny fawn over Draco Malfoy. Almost.

The fact that Harry was not affected in the way Ginny aimed to affect him, but instead was thoroughly uncomfortable, regretfully didn't take the bitter sting out of his sister's solicitous attentions toward Harry. Odd, that. "Umm… just studying," Harry stammered an answer.

"Mmmm hmmm… and what exactly would you be studying there, Harry?" Ginny teased and looked pointedly toward Hermione. Hermione very nearly smirked.

Ron didn't get it. Hermione used to bristle when Ginny put her moves on Harry, but lately it was like it was some big joke between them. Hermione was completely unbothered by it, and that made it loads worse. Somehow. It just did.

"Potions. And a bit of spell work," Hermione answered easily. Ron had never realized just how accomplished and flawless Hermione could be at lying before. It was depressing if he thought on it too hard. Just when he thought he knew his friends they proved him dead wrong. Five years of friendship, and for what?

"Aww, sounds a dreadful ordeal," Ginny crooned sympathetically and reached across the table to pat Harry's hand. Harry jumped slightly and drew back… away from Ginny, toward Hermione.

Ron had had enough. He rose from the table and marched up to where Ginny sat. "Let's go," he said gruffly and grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey!" Ginny snapped indignantly, and he knew he was in for ten rounds with the infamous Weasley woman wrath, but if he got to vent a little first it would be worth it. Ron dragged Ginny away from the Gryffindor table, out of the Great Hall, and only turned her loose once they were in the corridor.

Ginny faced him angrily, eyes blazing and mouth pinched in righteous fury. "What is wrong with you, Ronald? How dare you man-handle me like that!"

"Oh, you're one to talk!" Ron said hotly.

"And what does that mean?" Ginny asked in a low, dangerous voice. In their mother, it would be the cue to take flight. Run far and fast. Luckily, Ginny had a bit more experience to put under her belt before she could make men cower like that… but sadly she didn't lack much. Ginny had done a lot of growing over the past summer, it seemed. Apparently everyone had, and none of it had been for the better in Ron's opinion.

"Don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, Ginerva! The way you're all over Harry, flirting with him like some Quidditch groupie, it's disgusting. I'm warning you, stop it right now."

"Or what?" Ginny scowled at him a moment, expression borderline to murderous, then she spoke again, a little less volatile this time, "I'm just having a bit of fun. There's no harm in it."

"What do you hope to get out of this? Harry's not going to fall for your tart act. It may have worked for those mutton-head dragon-keepers of yours, but Harry's too smart to be taken in by it." Ron could not believe, in the interest of arguing with his sister, he'd vouch for Harry's honor and integrity. Seemed old habits died hard when it came down to it. Either that, or Ron was so dead set on knocking down his sister that, for the moment, the issues he had with Harry were less important.

"Tart?!" Ginny screeched, "I have absolutely no interest in Harry, you enormous twit!"

Right. And Filch wasn't a prick nor Snape a greasy-haired cur. "Come on, none of us are going to believe that. You've had a crush on Harry for years."

Ginny folded her arms in front of her chest. "I did have, I admit that, but that was a long time ago. I'm over it now. Harry's more like a brother to me, and at times a sight better brother than you are, I might add."

Even by the standards of his crummy day so far, that hurt. "So you want me to buy that you're not hoping Harry will hook up with you from all these little games you're putting on?"

Ginny smiled then, crooked and sagely, almost like Ron was being childishly naïve without the slightest awareness of his naïveté, "Please, he is soHermione's."

Ron stood speechless, gaping at his impudent little sister. How she could just say it, like that… His face grew hot and his temples pounded in time with his pulse. He could only imagine how many vivid shades of scarlet he'd turned. And still he couldn't manage to say anything. Nothing to throw back at Ginny's remark, at how she dare to say that so confidently, like it was some bloody law. Harry was Hermione's. Hermione's, so obviously hers. Like he would be daft not to know that.

While he stood there flummoxed and struck dumb, Ginny turned and left. Maybe to flirt more with Harry, but not to try and win him, because apparently he belonged to Hermione. Ron could not imagine anything more unsavory just then as going back into the Great Hall and watching Harry and Hermione. Hermione being possessive of Harry, Harry playing the part of the taken all too happily.

Ron turned and headed in the opposite direction of the Great Hall on an empty stomach.

Missing breakfast, usually on the top of the list of Ron's unforgivable misdeeds, did nothing for his mood through the rest of the school day. His classes were a write-off; he couldn't concentrate on the professors to save his life, which was horribly unfortunate in Defense Against the Dark Arts because the things learned in that class might save his life. It didn't help that he had all his classes with Harry and Hermione that day; he couldn't even be lucky enough for it to be one of the days when he and Harry had Divination while Hermione took Arithmancy. No. He had to watch them sit together, whisper during class to one another, leave together. Everything to-bloody-gether.

He thought the end of classes that afternoon would be a reprieve. Harry and Hermione would steal away somewhere together, most likely the library, which made them easy to avoid. Ron wouldn't have to see their togetherness and resent being strung along and not told. It was the only hope of respite Ron had. Harry and Hermione would be tucked away in some dusty old books doing things Ron hated to imagine, and he could hang out with his new best buds Dean and Seamus.

But as cruel fate would have it, even that blew up in his freckled face.

Seamus had picked up a juicy piece of gossip, and as it involved the opposite sex he was on it like a dog with a bone.

"I'm telling you, I have it on good authority."

Ron was walking along behind Dean and Seamus, who were moving side by side a pace ahead of him. Ron seemed to end up in the back, the tag-along. He blamed Harry and Hermione for that too, just for good measure.

The three were heading down the corridor toward the common room after a jaunt to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Ravenclaws practicing for the upcoming game. Ravenclaw had four girls on the team, including Cho Chang, which explained Seamus's avid spectatorship.

Ron was only half-listening to Seamus as he skulked along behind the pair. He might like a pretty bird as much as the next bloke, but Seamus never seemed to think of anything else. At least Ron could enjoy the Quidditch for the practice and not just the bums sitting the brooms.

Dean snorted. "And who exactly is good authority for a rumor like that?"

"Justin told me, and he was told by Oliver Wood, who heard it from Lavender since they're snog-partners now, who got it from Parvati. It's true! I'm telling you. Those girls' showers are common just like the boys'. Another girl would know."

Ron might not be slavering at the mouth like Seamus, but girls' showers… well, nothing wrong with at least paying attention to what they were talking about. It was the polite thing to do, and all.

Dean was still skeptical. "I say it's bollocks. The shape of a snitch?"

Seamus shook his head and laid the back of his hand against Dean's shoulder. "No, no, man, a bird. Though I suppose the two look enough alike that you could call it a snitch. Ha! Wouldn't that be something, what with Harry being a seeker and all."

Ron was immediately alert against his wishes, even as his temper stirred and his stomach soured. It all came back to Harry Potter, didn't it?

The three of them were at the fat lady and Dean turned to Seamus. "I'm not about to believe that Hermione Granger has a birthmark shaped like a bird or a snitch on her hip."

Seamus waved his hand dismissively and gave the portrait the password.

Ron scowled and couldn't help but blurt out as they stepped through the entrance to the common room. "She most certainly does not."

Seamus looked back at Ron. "Oh, and how would you know?"

Ron felt his face burning again. "I just would. She's my friend."

"So that means you'd know all her birthmarks? I don't think so." As they came into the common room proper, Ron knew his day was at the pinnacle of crappy when he caught sight of a familiar mop of unruly black hair on the couch.

Seamus spotted him, too. "We can ask Harry! Hey, Harry! Does Hermione have a bird-shaped birthmark on her hip?"

Ron could have choked on his own tongue with rage.

Harry didn't look up from the book in his lap at first, instead answered coolly without bothering to turn in their direction, "No. But if she did, I wouldn't tell you." Harry turned his head to look toward Seamus and Dean… and he noticeably paused when he caught sight of Ron.

Ron was seeing red.

Dean punched Seamus in the arm. "Told you."

"Drat," Seamus moped, the wind taken from his sails, "well, maybe they meant Parvati has a birthmark. Or maybe it was someone that was talking about getting a tattoo." Dean and Seamus headed toward the tower stairs but Ron hung back. He could throttle Harry then and there, the foul git! Hermione's hip!

"Ron?" Harry asked warily.

"You bloody bastard!" It exploded out of him, the fury that had been festering and burning in him for weeks. It felt good to finally lash out at the rightful target.

Harry's expression slowly hardened. "Excuse me?"

Ron could feel himself shaking. "You heard me! You dirty, bloody, filthy bastard!"

Harry set his book aside and stood.

Angelina, working on her homework at a desk in the common room, hissed, "Shhhh!" at them.

Harry looked first to Angelina, then to Ron, then said, "Why don't we take this outside?"

"Yes, do!" Angelina snapped.

"Yes, let's," Ron returned hotly and turned sharply. He marched out, not even bothering to see if Harry was following him. If not, he'd just come back in and have it out with him in the common room again, because it was past time that Ron gave Harry what he deserved. This was damn well due.

Ron didn't stop until he was outside, close to one of the castle's great stone walls sporting an elegant row of colorful stained glass windows. There were some other students lounging about outside, Ron caught sight of Neville studying what looked to him like a common weed, but Ron wasn't concerned about anyone else. He was only interested in one Harry Potter, former best friend.

Ron spun around and was gratified to see that Harry was there, had indeed followed Ron to take his licks. Though he didn't look that concerned, which infuriated Ron even further. So he was harmless, full of hot air Ron Weasley, was he? The nerve of Harry.

"All right, now why am I a bastard?" Harry asked evenly.

"A bloody bastard! And you know why!"

Harry shook his head and held up his hands in feigned ignorance.

"How could you? How could you and not tell me?!"

Harry paused and for a moment actually looked uncomfortable. Caught out. Guilty. Ron knew it. "Do what?"

"Hook up with Hermione, of course!"

Harry blinked and went from defensive to puzzled. "What?! Ron… I'm not dating Hermione."

"Stop lying to me, Harry!" Ron screamed, and then it all just flooded out of him, the cracked dam finally blowing apart. "Why her? Damnit, of all the girls you could have chased, why Hermione?! You knew I fancied her, why couldn't you leave her be? You could have picked anyone but her!"

"I'm not with her!" Harry snapped back.

"Everyone knows you are, what do you take me for, an idiot? Poor stupid Ronald Weasley, is that it? You should have told me! Least save me making a complete fool of myself thinking I had half a chance."

"Half a chance to what?" Harry stepped closer to Ron, and Ron cursed himself when he took a reflexive step back. He moved forward again to stand his ground, though he felt the bulk of the damage was done for his momentary retreat. He'd just have to make up for it with volume when he got another word in. But Harry was fanned to fighting form now, and Ron would have to wait. "For the last time," Harry growled, "I'm not dating Hermione, but whether I was or not, it wouldn't make any difference to you. You don't deserve her!"

Ron itched to draw his wand. How he'd love to hex Harry into the hospital wing.

"You're awful to Hermione," Harry said tersely, quickly growing just as heated and incensed as Ron. Clearly a button had been pushed. "I've never met anyone who can make Hermione cry like you do, and Hermione isn't the type to cry. You're just that good at hurting her feelings. What makes you think she could ever be happy with you?"

"That… what… that's not fair! I…" Ron stammered for a retort. So he and Hermione liked to banter about, and so maybe he was just a little better at it, but that didn't mean he didn't like her! Harry knew that, so why try and make Ron feel like he was a heel for a little harmless fun?

"What's not fair is the way you take advantage of her, treat her like rubbish, when you would call yourself her friend."

"Oh, you're one to talk about taking advantage of her, you prick! After all, you're the bloody one shagging her senseless, not me!"

Ron didn't see it coming, felt only the explosion of pain on his lip and his head snap back. He fell to the ground in a startled heap. He tasted the copper of blood in his mouth and brought up a hand to his face. He hissed at the sharp pain in his split lip. His fingers came away streaked with red. It took that long for it to register what had happened. Harry had decked him. Harry, his once best friend, had punched him.

Ron, enraged and seconds from an all-out duel, looked up at Harry…

… and he froze. Harry was breathing heavily as he stood towering over Ron, hands clenched into fists. It was hard to forget that Harry was stronger now, not the scrawny little unwanted, neglected nephew he once was. Watching Harry quiver with anger, his eyes fiery with rage, his mouth set in a savage line… it made one remember that Harry had survived the killing curse. Twice. That he'd seen a comrade die right in front of his eyes. That he'd taken up his wand against Voldemort himself. That he was, within his own rights, one of the most powerful wizards for his age the world had ever seen.

Ron realized he was genuinely afraid.