You and Me // Ronarry

Part 8

Summary: Ron faces a lot of hate; Harry works up the courage to talk to him

Unofficial summary: *cut to clip to Potter Puppet Pals with Harry banging his head against the side and repeating "Angst" over and over again*

Within the next twenty-four hours, everything changed. People would whisper to one another when they saw Ron with Harry, and many shot Hermione suspicious looks, too.

Hermione wasn't bothered by it, but then again she wasn't mentioned as much. It was Ron who tried to look smaller in the corridors, as if he could escape.

Harry thought about telling Sirius but dismissed it. Sirius had enough to worry about with getting caught and looking out for Harry; he didn't need anything added.

But when they had snuck out during Hogsmeade to meet up with him, Sirius held Harry back for a moment longer.

"You look worried," he said, his gray eyes boring into Harry's. "And it's not about the tournament."

"It's Ron," Harry admitted. "I'm afraid he'll break up with me."

"Why? He cares for you a lot, I can tell."

"Rita Skeeter wrote some nasty stuff about him," Harry explained. "Made him out to be some greedy boy who just wants to take advantage of me."

Sirius had scowled at the mention of Skeeter. "Oh, her. Don't listen to her, Harry. If people have enough sense—"

"They clearly don't," Harry muttered, remembering one particular girl who had whispered loudly to her friend something he would never repeat, not even to Sirius.

"Can't argue with that." Sirius reached out and gripped his shoulder. "This will blow over. It may not seem that way, but it will, and you and Ron will be closer than ever. The least you can do is talk to him. I have a feeling Ron's affected a lot more than he's letting on. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded.

"Good." Sirius squeezed his shoulder one last time. "Now let's get you back to Hogwarts. I risked enough getting you out here as it is."

Harry resolved to talk to Ron that evening, but when he went to speak his throat closed up and no words would come out. Then there as the whole thing with the house-elves in the kitchen, and then breakfast the next morning.

Several owls came flying down in front of Ron, nearly knocking over his goblet in their haste to get to him first.

"Did someone make a mistake with their order?" Harry said, bewildered.

Ron opened one of the letters and stared at it blankly.

"Ron?" Hermione looked over his shoulder. "Oh, really!" she sputtered, going rather red.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned the letter to face Harry, who saw it was composed of cut-out letters from the Daily Prophet.

You horrible boy! Harry Potter deserves better than a blood-traitor like you.

It wasn't the only one like that.

How dare you use Harry Potter for your own twisted needs! Hasn't he been through enough?

"How dare they!" Hermione exclaimed. "And here I was hoping they'd have a little more sense!"

Undiluted bubotuber pus spilled out from one of the envelopes, covering Ron's hands in sores.

"Don't listen to them, Ron," Harry said. "I know it's not true."