Although his best friend, Harry Potter, was absolutely positive nothing was going on between him and Hermione, Ron Weasley still had doubts. He remembered, not too long ago, he had been challenged to destroy a tiny object with big words. He remembered the tiny locket lying against a flat rock, defending itself with taunting words. It had shown Ron’s deepest, darkest thoughts – and his fears.“What are you, compared with the Boy who Lived?” Indeed. Ron Weasley, he thought to himself, was nothing to Harry Potter. He wasn’t the greatest known wizard. He was never the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was never the most fancible boy in Hogwarts. Hermione, he knew, was always thought to have been in a romantic relationship with Harry. But according to both of them, they relationship was entirely platonic.

          But again, Ron had doubts. Hermione Granger, a muggle-born witch whom he had known since he was only eleven, was not a girl you could meet every day. Ron was nothing, he knew, compared to Harry and Hermione. Although he was a trusty member of the trio, he was the least known. Harry was known as, “The Boy Who Lived”. Hermione was known as, “The Smartest Witch of Her Age”. And he was known as, “The Tall Kid With Red Hair”. Ron knew how he felt about Hermione now. He had finally come to terms. He had finally plucked up the courage to tell himself he was in love with her. What scared him was if she didn’t feel the same way. First with Krum, McLaggen, and now, his new “competition” Harry. Ron trusted Harry. But again, he still felt insecure compared to Harry.

          He slowly drifted off into his pillow, and he felt his eyes gently close. And he disappeared, suddenly, into Hogwarts…Hogwarts? But they weren’t in Hogwarts. They were in the middle of the forest of Dean. And it was bitter cold. Hogwarts seemed sunny and cloudy. He looked around and saw that he was on a broom, and several other Gryffindors surrounded him. The cheering crowds indicated that he was perhaps in a Quidditch match. He stared around and saw other students in bright green and silver robes. Slytherins. He scanned the crowd and saw Hermione in a Gryffindor scarf and shirt. She waved slightly and he waved back, but her eyes didn’t seem to be focused upon him. He turned around and saw Harry, grinning broadly and waving at her.

          “RON!”

It was too late; Ron turned around and saw a quaffle flying directly at him, aiming at his stomach. It hit him squarely and he fell off his broom, and hit the green grass hardly. He groaned as Harry and Angelina flew down to him. He looked up and saw Hermione shrieking with laughter as she pointed at him and screamed, “WEASEL!”

“Ron, you idiot!” exclaimed Angelina. “What were you thinking?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “stupid little prat, are you, waving at my girlfriend.”

Ron fought the urge to punch Harry in the face. He was also much too weak.

“And Slytherin wins the match!” Ron heard a groan in Lee Jordan’s voice. “Thanks, Weasley!”

Ron heard the chanting of, “Weasley is My King” and saw Hermione actually singing along. She was clapping, too. Ron pushed his head back to the ground weakly.

 

“Ron! Ron!”

He was left, lying upon the grass like a pathetic little insect, and the Slytherins continued to chant…

“Ron!”

He tried to think that Hermione never was there, she was never involved with Harry, but it seemed much too real…

“Ron, wake up!”

He heard someone call his name. Someone who sounded much like Harry. Had he return to help? Or had he merely returned to continue the taunting?

“WAKE UP! Oh, that’s it…Augamenti!”

He felt cold, icy water splash across his face. He woke up, sat up, and panted like a dog in need of water; there, in full view of the room, was Hermione, looking worried with her wand in her trembling hand, and Harry, at the end of his bunk, his mouth open with surprise.

“What…what happened?” croaked Ron. “Where are we?”

“The forest, of course,” said Hermione at once.

“The forest? Not at all in Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts? Wha – Ron, it was probably just a dream, I – ”

“Welcome to the club, mate,” interjected Harry. “You’ve been saying things…well, not saying, but grunting and stuff. You even said something about a quaffle.”

“I – I dreamt we were back at Hogwarts, playing against Slytherin, and we won,” Ron invented wildly. Hermione looked concerned but Harry gave him a withering look. “What?” Ron snapped. “Can’t I dream without – ”

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” sighed Hermione, rolling her eyes and setting into her own bunk. “Good night,” she said, but her voice was muffled into the covers.

Harry turned to Ron. “You weren’t dreaming about that,” whispered Harry coldly. “I know you weren’t. Don’t lie to me.”

“Fine,” said Ron. “Just – just do me a favor, don’t tell Hermione.”

“What? Oh, so you were dreaming about Hermione?”

“Shut up,” said Ron at once.

Harry chuckled. “C’mon, tell me. I won’t tell anyone,” he said.

“It’s a bit personal, mate.”

“I’m your best friend!” said Harry.

Ron hesitated. Then, finally, he said, “Fine.”

“Yes!” said Harry triumphantly. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

“I was just – just dreaming we were back at Hogwarts. We were playing against Slytherin. And then – the quaffle just hit me in the stomach and you and Hermione started laughing.”

Harry stood stiff for a while. Then he burst out, “That’s stupid.”

“See?” said Ron. “This is why I can’t – ”

“No, I’m not talking about your dream,” explained Harry. “It’s stupid we have to keep this from” – he nodded at Hermione – “her.”

“Yeah, well that’s me,” said Ron simply. “Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s stupid best friend.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, mate,” he whispered, standing up and yawning. “She won’t know a thing, even though she’s my best friend.”

Best friend. And at those words, Ron Weasley slept through the night perfectly.