“Oy! Presents!” A shout came from across the room.
Harry sat up groggily and reached for his glasses. He blinked a few times until his vision was focused on Ronald Weasley hurriedly opening presents.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Hermione?” Harry asked him, not wanting his crush other best friend to feel left out.
Ron merely grumbled and folded his arms, glaring down at the floor.
Harry chose to just ignore the redhead’s grumbling, and went to the common room to get Hermione.
He ran up the stairs and began yelling her name, when all of a sudden, the stairs turned into a slide and he slid back down.
“’Mione!” He shouted from the bottom of the stairs/slide.
A bushy haired witch wearing her nightgown and holding an angry, orange, fuzzball in her hands appeared at the top of the steps.
She pressed her palm against her mouth, stifling a laugh. When she saw Harry’s expression though, she couldn’t help but let out a giggle.
And Harry thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“Oh Harry, you’re so silly!” She teasingly scolded him. “Don’t you know that boys can’t go into the girls’ dormitories? It’s in Hogwarts, A History. Honestly, am I the only one who bothers to read?!” She finished, chuckling under her breath.
As she descended down the stairs, Harry took her hand in his, and he could’ve sworn he saw a blush tinting her face.
Grinning, Harry jogged up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, pulling Hermione behind him.
Slightly out of breath with her face flushed, the brightest witch of her age flopped down rather ungracefully onto Harry’s bed.
Crookshanks had jumped out of her arms when they were coming up the stairs, and was now prowling around the room, tail swishing back and forth.
“OY! WHAT’S THAT BLOODY CAT DOING HERE?!” Ron bellowed, holding Scabbers protectively against his chest.
Crookshanks’ yellow eyes just narrowed at the squirming rat in the young Weasley’s arms.
“DON’T YOU SEE HOW HE’S LOOKING AT SCABBERS?? GET HIM OUTTA HERE!” Ron aimed a misjudged kick at the half-kneazle, only to hit Harry’s trunk with his foot.
Ron howled in pain, and hopped up and down on one foot. To Hermione, it was rather amusing and she couldn’t help but feel that he deserved what he’d gotten.
Harry had to stifle a laugh as well, seeing as the whole thing was rather amusing. He just wished his two best friends could get along better though.
When the pain finally subsided for Ron, he glared darkly at Hermione, and she was almost concerned for the flash of hatred in his eyes.
Clearing his throat, Harry changed the subject and suggested they get back to opening presents. Reaching over, Harry grabbed an oddly shaped parcel at the foot of his bed.
He quickly unwrapped it, eager to see what it was. And boy was he shocked.
Not just any new broomstick, but the newest of new broomsticks.
Harry admired the glossy wood and traced his fingers over the engraving of the model’s name on the handle.
Ron just gaped. Hermione could’ve sworn she saw drool seep out of his mouth as well, and she scrunched up her nose in disgust.
“Harry, is that-” Ron lamely started.
“Yeah,” Harry breathed, admiring the beautiful broom. “It’s a Firebolt!”
“Do you know who sent it?” Hermione inquired, looking over his shoulder for a note.
“Erm... no.” Harry answered, somewhat disappointed.
Instead of looking happy for him, Hermione almost looked... concerned.
“D’you reckon it was Lupin?” Ron asked, his mouth full with a chocolate frog someone had sent him.
“Professor Lupin.” Hermione chided, earning a glare from the Weasley.
“I don’t think Lupin has the kind of money to afford something like this, Ron.” Harry stated, entirely sure it was someone else who’d sent it.
“Well who cares who gave it to you, let’s take her for a fly!” Ron happily sprung up and practically ripped the broom from Harry’s arms.
“I don’t think anyone should ride that broom just yet!” Hermione piped up, slightly unsure of herself.
Ron just rolled his eyes. “What d’you think Harry’s gonna do with it, sweep the floor?” Ron rudely finished.
Hermione just ducked her head, mumbling out apologies before exiting the room, Crookshanks not too far behind her.
Harry frowned. He didn’t want her to be upset, especially not on Christmas. His thoughts were interrupted when Ron snorted.
“Right bitch that one is, isn’t she?” He narrowed his eyes at the door that she’d just walked through.
Unknown to Ron, Hermione had heard everything he’d said and was now running out of the Griffindor common room, with tears streaming down her face.
Harry whirled around to face Ron, his emerald eyes filled with rage.
“HOW COULD YOU?! SHE’S OUR FRIEND!” He furiously yelled at his former best mate.
“No, she was yours. I never gave a flying shit about her,” Ron confessed to Harry.
The Boy-Who-Lived took a deep breath and calmly walked towards the door, not wanting the fight to escalate.
“Bloody know-it-all.” Ron muttered the last part to himself, but Harry heard him.
He stopped and without really thinking it through, he punched the redhead square in the nose and heard a satisfying crunch.
“BLOODY HELL, MATE!” Ron screeched as he fell to the ground, clutching his broken, bleeding nose.
Harry swiftly turned around, and stalked out of the room and into the common room. He felt slightly guilty, but Ron had been a right git, so he deserved it.
“’Mione?” He called up the stairs. When he heard no response, he tried to climb them again, only to remember it wouldn’t work.
“Shit.” He swore under his breath, pacing at the bottom of the stairs. He ran a hand through his messy, jet-black hair when he noticed something.
There was no way Hermione would leave him down here while she went up to the girls’ dormitories.
And with that, the young wizard left the Griffindor Common Room and began to search for the love of his life his best friend.
