Harry Potter and the iPod of Randomness - H/R - G
Title: Harry Potter and the iPod of Randomness
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron + Hermione
Rating: G
Words: 1700

Written for the Love Triangle Challenge at harry_and_ron - any sort of love-triangle, using the words cocao, jumper and limber - which, apparently, is a two-wheeled, horse-drawn vehicle used to tow a field gun!

OK, the title makes no sense – it is 1am and I gave up trying to think of one and used the Random Harry Potter Book Title Generator.

Betaed by the fast approaching rosina_alcona - that is, our time to meet is fast approaching – buying Half-Blood Prince at midnight at King’s Cross Station – we are so cool!


Harry Potter and the iPod of Randomness
****
I’ve never thought of myself as a sort of femme fatale who would, or could, break up an established couple.

I just had to pause to imagine Parvati and Lavender’s reaction if they ever read that sentence.

No, not for me the short skirts and shiny lip gloss and breathy voice and fluttering eyelashes.

That was one of the reasons I waited. I could never respect a man who was trapped by such means anyway, so I had to wait for him to grow up enough to appreciate me properly anyway.

Him. Yes, this isn’t just my abstract Dating Theory.

Ron.

I’d never try and break up a couple - but preventing two people from getting together, if I really think they wouldn’t be happy together, it isn’t as bad, is it?

I think that everyone thought I was waiting for him to grow up and make his move. Even Ginny would try and ‘comfort’ me. “You know what an idiot my brother is,” she’d say. Often. “He’ll twig eventually, he’ll tell you how he feels.”

But I knew how he felt, and I would rather his feelings changed before he realised what they were. Because no-one really knew how things stood between us. The three of us. And that included Ron. Big surprise there. Sorry, Ron.

The thing was, I would always hold second place in his heart. He had given his heart to Harry without even realising it, and if I came between them at the wrong moment, then it would be disastrous for all of us.

Taking care of Harry was his number one priority, and, as I watched the two of them through sixth and seventh year, it became clear to me that my window of opportunity was likely to be so small as to be invisible to the naked eye.

In sixth year Harry was utterly dependent on Ron, and that was fine. Ron was much admired for the way he looked out for his best friend, and they had always been so close that I was the only one who realised that Harry had fallen for him.

But Harry was firmly in the “He’ll make his move eventually, Hermione,” camp and would sit and watch us together, fondly. There is no way that he would ever make a move on Ron. Firstly, he was too screwed up about personal relationships to think he deserved it, and secondly he assumed Ron was straight.

Which he was.

Ninety-nine point nine per cent straight. With what I called a Harry-clause. If he’d ever realised that Harry was in love with him, then it wouldn’t have mattered that Harry was a guy.

He’d do anything for Harry.

Oh, no, that doesn’t sound right.

That makes it sound as if he’d be with Harry under protest, despite him being a guy.

No. It just wouldn’t bother him. It was Harry. And that would be enough.

So why was I lurking in the wings, waiting to step in and prevent it? It makes me seem like a heartless bitch, but that’s not true. I was protecting them.

It would kill both of them to attempt a relationship and fail and lose each other as a friend.

I love both of them; Harry like a brother and Ron with all my heart. If I thought they would be happy together, then I would stay on the sidelines and wait for it to happen. Just like Harry does for Ron and me.

But what is Harry’s heart’s desire?

A family.

Deprived of his own family, there is nothing more important to him. He loves being a part of Ron’s family and he gets more misty-eyed at the thought of Ron and me having our own family one day than I do.

He would never ‘deprive’ Ron of the chance of having the large family that he thinks everyone must long for.

I don’t think Ron would be bothered by not having that family; he’ll have enough nieces and nephews to carry on the family name, after all. But he’d never convince Harry that he hadn’t given up his dreams to be with him.

And Harry would never hurt me; he’d never try and come between Ron and me. He doesn’t know he always has.

That, as he slogged his way through seventh year, trying to be strong and be ready to face his destiny.

That, as all the ‘smart’ money in Seamus’s sweepstake was on Ron making his move on me between Christmas and Easter.

That I was watching Ron, not for signs that he had realised that I was in love with him, but that he had realised that Harry was.

I knew that Harry would let his guard down only after the prophecy had been fulfilled. That his feelings for Ron would be dangerously near the surface when he was so emotionally exposed. That even Ron might notice.

And what chance would their relationship have, started amidst the blaze of publicity that Voldemort’s defeat would generate?

So, I had my timescale.

In the euphoria surrounding Harry’s victory – and I never considered any other outcome – it would be natural and expected for Ron and me to let our guards down, too. To relax our constant care of Harry, to turn to each other.

Only Harry would be aware of a missed opportunity, and he wouldn’t mourn it for long, not when he saw how happy we were together.

All through the spring term the tension built in the Wizarding world. Many students didn’t return to school after Christmas, and those of us who did were taut with nerves. I couldn’t even be bothered to rebuke Seamus for his off colour remarks – out of Ron’s hearing – every time someone’s chosen date in the Ron/Hermione sweepstake came and went.

On Ron’s birthday we didn’t even have the energy to celebrate. Ron watched Harry in the common room that evening and I was scared to death that he had noticed something amiss. Something more than usual.

Ron was furious that he was still stuck in school at eighteen, when all his older brothers were out there, risking their lives.

Harry was blaming himself for the danger that Ron’s family were in, that Ron was aching to be in. He was curled up on the sofa in that Christmas’s Weasley jumper, nervously fiddling with a loose thread in the cuff, obviously wallowing in misery at what he thought he was putting Ron through.

Dobby had been in to light a fire and bring us a birthday cake and cocoa in huge mugs, but the atmosphere was grim.

Ron was holding his mug, elbows on his knees, trying to warm his hands.

Harry was watching him through his fringe.

Everyone else was watching Harry.

I was watching both of them. I felt I should memorize every detail of this evening, unsure when we’d be together again like this.

And I was right.

The tension was broken by Professor McGonagall opening the portrait hole and coming swiftly over to the fireplace. Harry looked up at her.

“It’s time, Potter,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he went utterly white and nodded jerkily.

He got to his feet and turned to look at me. I got up and put my arms around him. “Be careful, Harry,” I whispered and he nodded into my hair and held me tight.

Ginny, Neville, Dean and Seamus came over to hold him or slap him on the back in various ways and he nodded and hugged and then turned to face Ron, who was standing and shaking beside him.

“What?” Ron hissed. “Just like that? You have to go?”

“Yeah.”

“No!” Ron shook his head.

“Please Ron,” Harry’s jaw tightened and he took half a step towards his best friend, who opened his arms to him and they clung together for a moment before Harry tore himself away and followed McGonagall out of the common room.

In the stunned silence that followed I saw Ron clenching his fists and trembling with anger and I crossed over to him and put my hand on his arm. “Ron?” I whispered. “Please.”

“He shouldn’t be alone, Hermione,” Ron said, looking down at my hand and swallowing, hard. “I should be there with him; we both should.”

“I wish we could, too,” I said and he held out his arms and I stepped into them and rested my cheek on his shoulder.

No one went to bed that night. Ron and I sat close together on the sofa and he kept his arms around me and I fell asleep leaning against him at one point, but mainly we sat in silence, waiting for news.

Dawn was breaking when the portrait hole next opened and we all leapt to our feet.

A bone-weary Professor McGonagall entered and came over to the fire to face Ron and me. She looked absolutely drained, but somehow serene, and I clutched Ron’s hand tight as she looked from one of us to the other.

“Well?” Ron snapped, and she nodded tiredly.

“It’s over, Mr.Weasley.”

“Where’s Harry?” we asked in unison and McGonagall smiled tightly.

“Mr. Potter is in the hospital wing. He is still unconscious, but you may both come and sit with him. He is uninjured, but severely drained – of energy and magic.”

Ron dragged me from the room so fast I could barely keep my footing as we ran to the hospital wing.

Harry looked almost transparent, his thin face was pale and his hair lay limply on his pillow. There were awful dark smudges under his eyes and his hand lay curled on his chest that rose and fell feebly.

Ron slumped into the chair by his bedside and clasped Harry’s slim and limber hand. I sat on the end of Harry’s bed and watched them.

And I realised that I had missed my chance.

That, however long Ron took to realise it, Harry would always come first in his heart and his life. That I had been waiting for something that could never be mine.

But it didn’t hurt, because seeing them together, with Ron holding tight to Harry’s hand and smoothing the messy hair back off his face, I knew I would be there to take care of them through the inevitable fuss and problems they’d face.

And that Harry would be happy.

And so would Ron.

And so would I.