Only A Boy

She's my friend

What was the matter with him, really? He'd never thought of himself as a particularly violent person. He knew he had a bit of a temper but he'd never struck anyone before – at least, not in the serious sense of the word. His frown deepened, and he leaned back in the red squashy armchair, staring blankly into the flames that crackled merrily in the grate before him.

Really, what was he doing?

"Oi, Ron!" He recognized the voice at once, and it was with great reluctance that he turned his blue eyes toward Fred who was emerging from the portrait hole. Right behind him came George, sharing an identical expression of mock indignation. Ron sighed, steeling himself. They'd no doubt learned of the incident between himself and the Slytherin. It'd only happened an hour ago but somehow his brothers were always the quickest to discover things he'd rather keep hidden.

"Leave me alone Fred, I'm not in the mood," Ron grumbled and he turned his attention back to the fireplace, though he didn't really see it. The incident swam before his gaze once more, anger and confusion prickled along his skin.

"No, I'd expect not," Fred, said behind him, and Ron knew he wasn't going to drop it. And when his brother came to sit on the couch beside him he had to stifle the groan that threatened to burst out of him. For one wistful moment, he hoped that George had decided to leave them to it but that was not to be, for the other twin decided to sit right beside him, on the arm of his chair.

"I don't think anyone would fancy a week of detentions with Filtch," Fred continued grimly. His eyes flickered to George but he didn't address him, instead, "So, have you got a crush or something?"

Even though Ron could hear the tease in his tone, something else made him look up at stare at him. Fred actually sounded concerned, and not in that "my little brother is acting kind of weird" way. No, it felt more like, "why'd you attack the kid, he didn't do anything wrong" type of concern. His hands balled into fists.

"I do not," he spat. "Who'd like her?" but his gut contracted strangely as he said it. She wasn't really all that pretty, and she was really annoying when it came to schoolwork. But the train ride had been, at the very least, more interesting after she'd dragged him after her. No—no, this was a duty that every Gryffindor had, protecting each other from the sly Slytherins.

"Then why—?" George started, but Ron cut him off.

"What do you mean, why? He's a Slytherin! He was obviously trying to manipulate her and maybe even get some Gryffindor secrets out of her!"

"What are these Gryffindor secrets you speak of?" Fred asked with a raised eyebrow, and Ron knew he was mocking him. He jerked to his feet, glaring at the pair of them.

"Shove off! He's just like the lot of them!" Ron took a deep breath, trying to calm down but the rage swirled. Hadn't dad always told them how Slytherins were never to be trusted? How they were always getting Gryffindor in trouble and cunningly escaping punishment themselves? "He was probably going to hurt her or something because she's muggleborn! You know how they are! I wasn't about to let him get away with it just because she was too stupid to realize it."

He didn't even realize he'd been yelling until he finished out of breath, the back of his neck scarlet. Fred and George exchanged expressions, but Ron didn't see any sign of agreement. His heart felt tight, emptiness in his stomach. They didn't share his thoughts. They didn't think that—that Evans was just another Slytherin.

And it stung.

Before he could call them out on it – all the while praying to Merlin that he was somehow mistaken – there were pounding footsteps and Hermione burst out of the girl's dormitory, her face flushed and furious. She'd no doubt overheard his rant and he was willing to bet that she didn't appreciate being called stupid. But when he saw her brown eyes blazing and the lift of her chin that spoke of her haughty, "I'm always right" attitude, he didn't feel sorry at all.