Yawning, Ron reached for a roll from a bowl that seemed to be most inconveniently placed at the farthest point possible from his seat. Through bleary eyes, he swatted impatiently toward the bowl. The corners of his mouth pulled down and he exhaled through his nose harshly with frustration. His fingers brushed against the bowl and he was adamant that he would reach it without having to stand up.
"Honestly Ronald," Hermione huffed as she pushed his elbow away from her face. She then reached easily for the bowl and brought it within the redhead's reach.
"Thanks Herm," he smiled and kissed her on the cheek, flushing as he realized that he'd just done so within the view of half of Gryffindor and the majority of the student body.
The hall seemed more crowded than ever and yet empty at the same time. There were a few familiar faces, all those who chose to return and finish their seventh or sixth year. There were new arrivals, yet it was not enough to fill the spaces left behind by those who had perished and not returned. It was sad to look at the Gryffindor table, with its unoccupied spaces and haggard expressions marring the faces of the older students. Gryffindor table was not the only table in this state but it was easily surpassed by the Slytherins, whose missing students were either dead, in hiding or in Azkaban.
Ron sighed as he looked at the roll he'd fought so hard to obtain. It was perfect in almost every way (short of being made by his mum) yet he didn't really have any desire to eat it. Sniffing and wiping moisture from his eyes he took a small bite from the warm bread. It tasted every bit as good as it should have, right texture, right flavor, not too much butter on the outside, but there was no enjoyment from that morsel.
Hermione glanced worriedly at her boyfriend, embarrassment forgotten. She gingerly lifted a cup of tea to her lips and took a delicate sip. She inched slightly closer to Ron, her thigh pressing against his and her shoulder pressing gently against his side. She knew that he felt guilt and sadness for those who were lost, especially his brother. She felt tears prickling at her eyes as she thought about the Weasley family in their grief. Sniffing quietly, she forced herself to stop the sensation rising up her throat, pushing insistently against her eyes and stuffing her nose.
"Thank you," a small whisper, sincere and tight floated to her ears. She almost came undone at that moment, listening to her broken best friend and partner. The most frustrating part was that she had no idea what to do. All the research in the world couldn't help prepare her for what Ron was going through;, what they were all going through. She felt Ron shift, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to his slow yet steady heartbeat.
It was quiet for a while at their end of the table. All of the upper years were congregated at the area closest to the teacher's table. Everywhere else, chatter and excited reunions took place, lifting the spirits of most of the other students. What sounded like a great commotion erupted suddenly from behind the doorway to the Great Hall, muted slightly by the giant wooden doors.
It took all of two minutes for the attention of every person in the hall to turn completely to what was going on outside of the large room. Almost as one, the seventh and sixth years stood up, poised to run, raise their wand or protect the children. Some looked abashed because of their quick assumption and moved to sit but still refrained from doing so. The Professors stiffened but none made to stand except Minerva McGonagall, whose expression was furious to say the very least.
Then they heard the voices:
"IS THIS THE ONLY WAY I CAN GET THROUGH TO YOU?!"
"I'VE ALREADY EXPLAINED MYSELF TO YOU, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING EVASIVE!"
"I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW!"
"YOU NEED HELP, HARRY POTTER! I'M TRYING TO GIVE IT TO YOU, YOU ARROGANT SOD!"
