The Rivalry

Harry took a deep breath, pushed open the portrait and walked into the common room. He decided to act like he wasn't aware everyone was staring at him. It wasn't anything new, the staring. People were always staring. It was like being well known gave them a license to blatantly stare at you and eavesdrop on your conversations and demand to know why you've done what you've and where you've been. Being famous gave the world a false sense of ownership and it was one of the things Harry hated most about wizards and their world of magic. Of course the actual magic part of it did make it somewhat bearable. Knowing you could curse the hell out of any of the bastards making your life so suck-tastic was a great way to start the morning each day. Just add in orange juice and you're all set for the day.

"Harry." He tried very hard not to scream aloud and just start ripping out his hair. He didn't think that would help with the current rumours going about. Apparently evil people were mentally unstable and shrieking while clawing at yourself didn't exactly shout 'perfectly sane, nothing to see here'.

"What do you want Ron?"

The red head stopped before Harry, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Harry might have gone overboard with the emphasis of just how much he did not care what Ron wanted.

"Do you think you can forgive me...for...earlier...?"

"You mean publicly shouting at and accusing me in the entrance hall in front of literally everyone?"

"Yes, er, that."

"Sure." He gave a bright smile.

Ron wrinkled his brow. "You don't sound like you mean it." No shit.

"When you are punished for your honesty you learn to lie."

"Would you quit it with that already?"

Harry pulled the loop of his bag from his shoulder and set it on the ground. This was obviously going to be another one of those conversations. Getting Ron to accept a truth he didn't like was like replaying a scratched record again and again and trying to convince it to just skip that one spot and finish the merlin be damned song. Harry was getting tired of this melody, he was tried of fighting with Ron, he was tired of telling him why he was angry. Sometimes you just have to let things go. Not say goodbye, saying goodbye always implies there can be a hello at some point later on. He just wanted to let it go and leave it behind and carry on. If Ron couldn't understand what he'd done wrong, if he wasn't just being prideful and unwilling to admit he was wrong but was truly stumped as to why Harry was upset...then how much of a friend was he to begin with? And didn't that just feel like a punch to the gut?

"Would you ask a question that makes sense?" Harry knew he pressing Ron buttons, but he was damn over letting Ron press his and doing nothing about it in return.

"Would you stop talking like a pureblood?"

"I don't understand. Why does it matter?" He cocked his head.

Ron spluttered. "Because, this, this isn't you."

He was right. Harry usually did whatever Ron wanted and never got offended and smiled and nodded and never seemed to mind. It was his fault really, for letting it go on so long. Ron was used to it being okay. But everyone had a bold line that other people knew not to cross and friends didn't dance across them deliberately and then demand your forgiveness. You can't forgive someone for something they weren't sorry for. That isn't how the system works. Ron wasn't sorry for what he did, he wasn't sorry for what he said, he wasn't sorry for bringing up something Harry would rather have left alone or for being insensitive or making light of a very bad situation. Ron was sorry he didn't have someone to talk Quidditch with when Hermione tried to make him finish his Herbology assignment, He was sorry he wasn't Harry Potter's best friend anymore. And that hurt.

"How would you know? After all I'm so busy being locked in my room it's a wonder you ever get mail from me at all." Somewhere to the right of him he heard Hermione gasp.

The taller boy growled in frustration. "Well I didn't did I? And you never tell me anything even when you're here."

"What was it you said? It isn't like I had anything better to do, so why couldn't I take the time?"

Ron paled, suddenly aware of their audience. "This isn't the place-"

"For what? Loudly talking about things that aren't anyone else's business? Yes I agree. Such matters should be spoken of in private."

"I said I was sorry!" Shouted Ron.

Harry shook his head. "No, you asked if I could forgive you. An apology was never given."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry countered. "Why are you sorry Ron?"

Ron ran his fingers through his hair savagely. "For...making you angry."

He felt his heart sink. "But not for what you did. Right?"

"What?"

"You're sorry that I'm angry with you," said Harry, slowly, "but not sorry about what you did. This is why I won't forgive you. You don't deserve to be forgiven. You don't mean it."

"Stop being so stubborn." Ron shoved him. Hard. His back met the closed door of the portrait. "I'm trying to help you, can't you see that?"

"How, by manhandling me?" He rubbed his shoulder irritably.

"You've heard the things people are saying about you Harry and hanging around with Malfoy isn't helping you."

Harry rolled his eyes, scooped up his bag and moved to go around Ron. Malfoy wasn't the issue, he was just another excuse for Ron to justify his actions. He wasn't trying to help him. Harry and Malfoy weren't even friends, apart from note driven dares their interactions were contained within the library and the classroom. Dueling in the halls not counting as conversation. It was a complex relationship and he wasn't awake enough to try to explain it. "I'm going to bed."

Ron grabbed him by the shoulder roughly.

"I'm not going to let them use you and hurt you for their own selfish reasons."

"No, you're perfectly capable of doing that on your own."

"Can't we...can't we pretend all of this never happened?" Asked Ron, in a strangled voice. It sort of felt like the world came crashing down on him, Harry reflected, to reveal a hidden world behind it. Harry wasn't sure he liked this new world. Things were so much easier when he pretended everything was fine.

"Yes, and we could pretend we're mermish princesses. That doesn't make it true."

"Stop making jokes!"

Harry smiled bitterly. "I apologize. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain, it's a defense mechanism. I'm actually crying on the inside." And he was.

"Why can't we go back to the way things were? I want my best friend back, I want all of this to go away, I want you to stop being angry with me and hanging out with Malfoy and reading books instead of playing Snap with me."

"Life doesn't work that way. And if you really want to wake this particular sleeping dog, then the truth is that if you'd just learn to love yourself your life wouldn't bite so much to begin with. And then maybe you wouldn't suck as a friend. These hurts? These grievances? You bring them on yourself. Those whispering words in your ear telling you you'll never be good enough? Those are your words Ron. You've hurt yourself and now you're determined to make the world hurt with you. Well I won't allow it. You don't get to bring me down there with you in your misery and vanity and jealousy. I have misery of my own that needs tending."

Ron exploded, causing several second years to jump. "Why not? Why can't you back to pretending you don't see these flaws? Why can't you just be happy and smile and be my friend again?"

"I don't know how else to get this across to you, Ron, so I am going to be very blunt. Okay? Acting happy is easy, being happy is not. Calling someone a friend is easy, being a friend is not. I'm not smiling because I'm not happy. I'm not treating you like a friend because you're not being one."

"You've changed."

He took in a deep breath, held it and let it out very slow. "No. The only difference between me today and me then is that I'm not pretending anymore."

"How can you hate me so easily?" Ron swallowed, looking very broken.

He walked around him, and headed up the stairs.

"I don't hate you Ron. It is not hate, it is only hurt that I feel. And after this I shall go to bed, I'll lick my wounds, which only bled because I gave a damn about you, and I'll seem to be over it by tomorrow. I've let it go, you see. I've cut the string that once attached you to me. You're free."

Harry slammed the door to the dorm behind him. The common room was still.