Harry heard footsteps crossing the floor. He was vaguely aware someone was in the bedroom. Just as he opened his eyes to search for the intruder, she squeezed them shut again and buried his head in his pillow.
Molly Weasley snapped the drapes open allowing a blazing beam of warm sunlight to pierce Harry's tired eyes.
"Mum!" Ron growled form the neighboring bed.
"Oh, don't 'Mum' me, Ronald. I've been calling for the both of you to wake up for fifteen minutes. If I don't take some drastic measures you'll never wake up in time for the train." She picked a few scattered pieces of laundry and headed for the door. "And frankly, we have no more cars to donate to your efforts in creative transportation!" She trotted out of the room and her footsteps carried her back down the stairs.
"Will she ever let that go?" Harry muttered.
"Ha! You're an optimist. She's still sore about the time I set her crocheted table cloth on fire." Ron scoffed.
"I don't remember that. When did that happen?"
"When I was three."
Harry and Ron's eyes met and both of their weak smiles faltered. After their catharsis on the back patio, everyone had decided it was time to turn in. They had all hugged, said goodnight, and wearily made their way to their beds. Now, in the bright light of a new day, it was clear Ron and Harry didn't quite know how to behave. They screamed, they insulted, they had been emotionally exposed, and most importantly, they cried in front of each other for the first time in memory. It was the last part that got Harry. No matter what the circumstances, even in Cedric's death, he had not let Ron see him cry. He was acutely concerned with it.
Last night they both cried. They didn't cry quiet, sheepish, considerate tears. They cried like a two year old child who just watched their red balloon float into the heavens and dropped their ice cream cone all at once. In retrospect, Harry wasn't quite sure why he had become so emotional.
Maybe it was the relief of knowing he hadn't driven his best friend away forever. Perhaps it was the joy of having the "trio" back together again. It might've been the stress of knowing this issue was not over. More than likely, it was just the ability to be in the presence of the two people he loved the most and be able to show such raw emotion with no fear of judgment. He had never had that kind of love in his life before now, and quite frankly, at times, it scared him more than Voldemort did.
"Er, so...Harry," Ron stuttered. "About Hermione."
"No, please," Harry interrupted. "We've got all the time in the world to talk about that. I really just want to spend some time with us; the three of us. I've missed you."
Ron's broad smile shone brighter than the morning sunlight. "I've missed you too. Let's get something to eat. I'm famished!" With that, Harry and Ron climbed out of their beds and made for the kitchen. They thundered down the stairs, chuckling like first years, and bounded into the breakfast room with beaming smiles.
Hermione and Ginny were already dressed and seated at the table. They had been hunched over the latest Daily Prophet but looked up as the boys burst into the room. Normally, a scathing remark would've been opportune at this moment, but as it was, the entire room merely fell silent, in hushed thanksgiving at the sight before them. The silence didn't last for long.
Pop!
QUACK!
"Blimey! That wasn't supposed to happen for another ten minutes!" Fred exclaimed.
QUACK! QUACK!
A rather oversized Welsh Harlequin duck flopped off the dining chair and began chasing Fred around the table. "George! It's not my fault!"
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The Triumvirate of Resolve (Harmione)
أدب الهواةThe Sequel to The Power He Knows Not, this story follows our trio through their seventh and final year at Hogwart's. A new villian, new powers, new romances, and a final showdown with the Dark Lord that leaves someone dead. Cameo apperances by nearl...