"Can you believe her, showing up with Krum like that?"

Harry only purses his lips and nods.

"She's fraternizing with the enemy, I tell you. I dunno what she thinks she's doing."

Maybe Ron expects him to provide some sort of feedback, some knowledge that he agrees, but Harry doesn't. Instead, he just sits quietly and listens to his best friend's ranting about Hermione, because really, how could he do anything else when he knows that this is all because of Ron's feelings for her? Why should he have to say anything at all when this is breaking him so much more than it's breaking Ron? So he doesn't. He just lets Ron sit there and ramble until he realizes he's been talking in circles and suggests that they retreat to their dormitory.

It's gone on for months, the crushing, that Ron seems to think is so cleverly concealed. But Harry's his best mate; he knows him way too well for that. And to Harry, it's not so hidden that it can't be crushing him inside. So really, it's as plain as day, and rather annoying that Ron can't see that. But regardless, Harry chooses to overlook it so that maybe it won't hurt as much. Maybe if he pretends it isn't there, it will all just go away. But ignorance is never a cure and he knows that; really though, what else can he do? So he makes like the glances, the blushes, the flirting aren't even there.

Until one day, Ron approaches him with a question. "Harry, could I ask you something?"

"Sure."

The redhead wanders over to Harry's bed and sits down beside him. "D'you...d'you think Hermione fancies anyone?"

His stomach drops. He should have seen this coming. Why didn't he realize that flirting can only last so long before somebody makes the first move? And he knows Hermione likes somebody; he knows exactly the person. But if he tells Ron that it's him, they'll go out, and then they'll be together and Harry will be all by himself. How could he not tell him, though? They're best friends; Harry owes him truthfulness. So instead, he says "Well, er, I have a bit of a suspicion, yeah."

Ron's face grows increasingly curious. "Yeah? Who d'you suppose it is?"

It takes everything Harry has not to lie, to tell him it's Krum or Seamus or even Neville so that Ron and Hermione won't be together and Harry won't be alone like he knows he always will be. But he wants Ron to be happy and he knows he deserves the truth, so he tells it like it is. "Um, well I thought it would be obvious. You two have been swooning over each other for months." There. It's out in the open, the ugly reality that Harry's been so carefully disregarding just to avoid this sort of thing. It almost feels like a relief for a moment to have at long last acknowledged it, but more than that it just hurts because he realizes that this is exactly what Ron wanted to hear, and that's not at all what Harry wanted.

"Wait..." Ron begins, looking mildly confused the way he always does, as if this came as a real shock to him. "You're not saying that it's me?"

Of course it's you, he thinks. How could it not be? How have you not noticed her timid looks, her scarlet cheeks, her batting eyelashes, her flirtatious chatter? How come you're putting me through the agony of explaining it for you? "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"But what makes you think that?"

And this is the hardest part. "Look, I know you've both been trying to hide your feelings, but you've been trying in vain because I've been able to see it from the start. You're always staring at each other and flushing. You never stop talking about each other. Every time you're in a room together you flirt like school girls. Enough said."

Ron just sits there and grins, but nothing about this makes Harry feel remotely happy. "Yeah," he admits, "I s'pose we're rotten liars. Well...does this mean I should ask her out?"

Of course, Ron would make Harry decide this for him. He probably expects this of him, as friendship duties to offer up advice. But it's so much more than that to Harry. His answer will determine whether or not he will be able to sleep at night, and how much more he'll be crying in future days. It will decide how much harder it will be to pretend around them, how much harder he's going to have to swallow his heart. But naturally he's going to put Ron's feelings first, and that cancels out saying no. "If that's what makes you happy," he says resignedly.

The already-present smile on Ron's face widens and he pulls Harry into a hug he doesn't realize is a very poor form of gratitude right now. "Thanks, mate. I owe you one." With that, he gallops out of the room, no doubt in search of Hermione, and Harry knows he's finally lost him.

By the next day they're dating, and within a week or so they're inseparable: attached at the hip like Ron and Harry used to be. Lately, though, Harry's been trying his damndest to avoid them – especially Ron – so that it might be a little bit easier to keep up his charade. For a while, he'd hoped Ron might notice, just to show that he noticed Harry's existence at all. But his attention was set on Hermione as always, so there was just no time to perceive Harry's unusual behaviour. It's misery watching them leaving him behind like this. There's no time to talk to Harry anymore, or ask him for advice. There's no time to play quidditch with him, or study with him; there's no time for Harry. And he can't stand it. He doesn't mean to be self-centered though, so he tries his best to persist through the hurting.

Eventually, they seem to acknowledge his constant reclusion and ask him to join them more frequently, but they never ask him why he's gone into hiding in the first place, and for that he is grateful. No matter how many times they persuade him to spend time with them, he declines, partly because he'd really rather not be the third wheel and partly because he knows they'd rather be alone anyway. And finally they just stop asking. So he tries to find something to occupy his time; some hobbies. At first it's quidditch practise, but then he remembers how he and Ron used to fly together all the time, and practising by yourself isn't very beneficial anyway. Next he resorts to knitting. At first this seems like a worthwhile pastime, until he realizes that all his yarn is maroon. He decides to clean the dormitory instead, but it's already pretty clean and he doesn't much feel like going through Ron's things. Harry even gives wizard's chess a thought, but it's sort of pointless playing by yourself, and besides, he was always rubbish at it. Finally he runs out of things to preoccupy himself with, so he just walks to the Black Lake instead.

It's quiet there, and quite cold. But it's been quiet for him no matter where he goes lately, and he can bet that the temperature inside him is lower than the chilly air he's breathing in. At least he's not cooped up inside the castle here, and he doesn't have to watch the only people he has forgetting about him. The January sky is overcast and the flora surrounding him is dead, which is honestly a perfect match for his mood. He trudges over to a rigid oak tree & slumps against its base, gazing out at the vast expanse of icy water in front of him. It's dim and shadowy, lonely just like him. Nobody notices it as they pass; it just fades into the background and watches everyone living and leaving it behind. Nobody pays any attention. It's all by itself and it knows that isn't going to change. Somehow, Harry realizes he's alone just like the lake, and he's just going to have to accept it. At least his friends can be happy.

Harry continues visiting the Black Lake. He smiles when he has to, but when he doesn't he's back there breaking down or thinking. All of his spare time, he spends on its dreary shores. Occasionally his friends try to persuade him to come and play quidditch or exploding snap, but he'd really rather not spend any more time than necessary in the castle where he's forced to be in close quarters with Ron and Hermione. And that makes him unbearably sad, because it's torture being so far away from his friends, especially Ron. But he just can't take being around them like this. Even if he knows what's happening inside those stony walls, at least he doesn't have to watch while he's here.

He's eating less and less, because he just can't seem to muster a proper appetite. But he does his best to make sure that it at least appears that his eating habits are normal, so he starts taking his leftovers upstairs. That way, it seems as if he's still eating (even though he really only throws them away), plus this gives him more time away from Ron. His sleeping routine has been disturbed as well. It's kind of difficult to manage any shut-eye when you're feeling so empty. Harry never leaves his bed though, just in case somebody notices his absence. He's determined to make sure that nobody perceives his sudden change of demeanour. It doesn't seem fair to him that just because he's suffering, everybody else should have to endure this with him. It's not their fault that he's in this predicament, not their fault that he's gone and been such a git and fallen in love with his best friend. He isn't angry with Ron and Hermione for not noticing his depression or trying to help him through it, because he knows he doesn't deserve their help or sympathy anyway. He deserves to be alone, even if that just so happens to be his greatest fear. So alone, he will be, and he's not about to start complaining about it. Instead, he'll just continue to trek down to the Lake and wait it all out; wait for...well, something. Just wait. Because that's all he can really do.

A few months have passed, and Harry's not exactly doing much better. In fact, he's probably gotten considerably worse. The only times he's in the castle are for classes and to sleep (or at least, feign slumber). He's stopped taking food up to his room, and instead opts to take it down to the lake, even though he hardly takes much anyway. When nightfall hits Hogwarts, he finds himself tossing and turning and trying with everything he has to just drift away, but there's too much emptiness inside and it all ends up consuming him. So really, could you expect him to manage any sleep? After a while, he just can't take it anymore and figures no one will notice if he slinks out to the lake for a bit, since nobody should be conscious enough to discern his whereabouts at this hour. He takes his invisibility cloak and hastily makes for the grounds. It's bitter and frozen outside, but he hardly cares. He doesn't care how exhausted he's become, or how much weight he's lost since he stopped eating. Even his attempts at concealing this whole ordeal have considerably slackened. It's not that he wants anybody to find out, but it's just so difficult trying to mask his anguish and he's feeling so drained. It bothers him slightly though, that even with how easy to read he's become nobody seems to have taken in that he just isn't himself anymore, that maybe something's bothering him. Ron's his very best friend. Shouldn't he know him well enough to see that this isn't Harry? Regardless though, he won't hold it against Ron. It's only Harry, after all; shadow-walking-Harry, Harry-who-fades-into-the-sidelines. So really, he isn't very surprised when no one comes looking for him and he slogs back to the castle alone.

He decides to lie down for a while before breakfast, so that it at least appears that he was in bed all night to those waking up around him. But when he approaches the dimly-lit dormitory, he finds that Ron is already up and about, lingering on the windowsill.

"'Morning, Harry," he drawls drowsily.

"`Morning."

Ron never does ask where Harry's been. This comes as a relief to Harry, seeing as he'd have a bit of a tough time explaining himself. But he still feels a twinge of hurt at Ron's lack of concern. Nevertheless, he climbs into bed with open eyes and an empty heart, and does what he can to appear unconscious. He really hopes whatever he's doing works, but the abandonment he's feeling hits too hard for him to really care all that much.

It's only a matter of time before the sun is shining and the rest of the dorm is awake and everybody's stomachs are urging them downstairs to the Great Hall. And normally, Harry would join them - not due to a craving for food, but because that's what everyone else is doing. Today though, he just can't seem to force himself down to breakfast. He's tired and he's nauseous and everything he does is such an effort. Harry doesn't want to make anybody worry, but the fact that nobody does makes him angry and resentful and he ends up just chucking his plans of concealing his misery and loping out to the Black Lake as always. He sits there and sobs, because nobody's looking for him and he knows it, because the one he loves can never feel the same, because he's lost his best friend, and because the one thing he was always terrified of was being alone and that's exactly what he is. Everything's gone so wrong.

Harry waits outside for hours, skipping his classes and wondering if even then anyone will notice. He waits for someone – anyone – to come and find him and bring him back inside the warm castle. But he knows he's waiting in vain. Nobody's looking for him; nobody knows he's gone. He'll freeze out here before his absence is acknowledged, so he figures it's best to just retreat back indoors before he finds that out for sure. Harry ambles warily up to his dorm for lack of anywhere else to be. He's not really expecting anyone else to be there, but suddenly a curious-faced Ron meets his arrival.

"Harry..." Finally, Harry thinks, he's realized something's wrong. He's wondering where I've been all this time. "Have you seen Hermione anywhere? She wasn't at dinner tonight, and I've been worried about her lately. Don't you think she's been acting a bit...strange?"

Harry's heart plummeted. His face fell. "How should I know...I've hardly seen her as of late." With that, he lifelessly saunters past Ron and out of the room.

Ron wasn't missing him; he hadn't even noticed he was gone. Hermione was more important than him, as always. It didn't matter that Harry had gone missing all day because Hermione wasn't present at dinner, and that's just so much worse because it's her – the girl that Ron loves, the one he'd miss the most. Hell, she was away for barely an hour and Ron couldn't stand it. Harry had been gone so much longer, and he wasn't given a second thought.

He has lost Ron. Finally, it's happened. Harry's completely and utterly alone at last, like he knew he always would be. No one's thinking of him. No one cares where he is. So why would they care if he left for good?

With that thought, Harry's made up his mind. There's nothing left for him here and he doesn't want to linger any longer. He dashes back to the dormitory and whips out his quill and a small scrap of parchment. Maybe Ron is gone, and maybe Harry's sort of angry at him for it. But nevertheless, he loves him sincerely, and even though Ron isn't going to care, Harry wants to say goodbye. So he draws in a shaky breath and writes the only farewell his empty heart can manage: I can't live without you; so I won't. He sets aside his ink and the quill and neatly sets the paper on Ron's muddled sheets. Nothing can change his mind now; he's got nothing to lose anymore, so he sets out for the Black Lake one last time, and slowly wades his way in. He takes one step. Nobody's looking for you. Then another. No one's going to care. And another. No one's going to miss you. Just one more. You're all alone.

His body is fully submerged now, yet he continues to aimlessly walk along the bottom of the lake. He's freezing and he needs oxygen, but he's too numb to care. Each step he takes is a step closer to ending this thing; ending his emptiness. So he continues until the edges of his vision begin to darken and blur, and he's pretty sure that he just can't make it any farther. He's being swept away now, and this is the happiest he's felt in a long time because he knows this will put an end to his suffering. And as he's drifting he sees an orange haze swirling around in front of him, which reminds him of Ron, which makes him think that it's a lucky thing he gets to spend his last waking minutes with his friend. But the orange fuzziness extends two lanky arms and wraps them around Harry's midsection, proceeding to haul him to the surface. Harry attempts to wriggle free, not wanting to go back to that awful place again, but his struggling is senseless and he knows it, so eventually he just goes limp within the gangling arms and hopes he's already breathed in enough water.

A dull pain echoes through Harry's ears. He wants to fall back asleep immediately, but everything hurts and he can't seem to drift off again. His whole body aches and his lungs feel as if they've imploded. He's not really sure where he is or why. In fact, he can't seem to remember much at all, so he opens his eyes because he figures that might help. When the light reaches his pupils, a familiar blur of orange comes into focus.

"Ron..." The ashen face he is met with is not angry or frustrated, but rather pained and troubled deeply, and Harry wonders what he's done to make it this way. "What's going on?"

Each word Ron attempts to form looks like it hurts, but he carries on anyway. "You tried to kill yourself."

And it all rushes back to him: the oak tree, the Black Lake, the note, all flood his memory. His face falls. He remembers now; oh yes, he remembers, and he wishes he didn't. What he doesn't understand though, is why Ron came looking for him. So he voices his question.

"What do you mean, 'why'?" Ron says exasperated. "You're my best friend!" He sighs hopelessly and sits down on the edge of Harry's hospital bed. "I saw your note and assumed the worst. Turns out I was right," he comments grimly. "But I still don't understand something." Harry peers up at him curiously. "Why? Why did you do it?"

Harry scrunches up his nose in mild confusion. "I thought you read the note?"

"Yes, but I don't understand what you meant by it."

Frustration weaves its way through Harry's mind. Hot, angry tears roll down his cheeks. If Ron couldn't see it then, he never will.

"It meant exactly what it said! It meant that I can't live without you, that I'm missing you all the time, that it hurts being away from you but it hurts even more watching you leaving me behind. It meant that I love you. I love-love you. But it's pointless so I'd rather stop existing so I don't have to anymore."

Ron stands there, mouth agape, searching for words. Finally, his eyes soften and he embraces Harry in an impossibly tight, comforting hug. "Awww, Harry." He pulls him into his lap and proceeds to wipe away the salty tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "Harry, why didn't you ever tell me?"

Harry appears sincerely puzzled. "B-because of Hermione and you're my best friend and you're a guy and-" he's cut off by Ron's lips on his. Harry doesn't kiss back – he's in too much shock. So he pushes away. "Ron...what..."

"Didn't you ever think I might feel the same?"

Harry's brow creases. "Of course not! You're always with Hermione and you're never with me! You never seem to miss me and you never ask me what's wrong. All you talk about is Hermione. And when I went missing you asked where she was instead, like you hadn't even noticed I was gone!" Tears of frustration pour down Harry's pale face.

Ron gingerly takes hold of Harry's chin and gazes into his eyes. "Sweetie, you don't understand. I've been so worried about you lately. It's been torture watching you hide away from everyone – from me – and not knowing why. But think about it; what would you have done if I'd asked? You'd do the same thing you always do; you'd sit there and tell me it was nothing and no matter how persistent I'd be in asking, you wouldn't say a thing. So I figured you didn't want to talk about it and I kept a close eye on you instead."

Harry's face softens but he's still plagued with confusion. "What about Hermione, though?"

Ron sighs. "Well, it isn't like I didn't want to be with her. I did like her, because she's a really great girl. But she was just a crush. I didn't love her like I love you. And I didn't realize that until just last night. When I read that note...I can't even describe how petrified I was. If anything ever happened to you, I don't think I could keep going. You're my best friend and I am not leaving you behind. I'm sorry for making you think that. I love Hermione, too, but it's different. When I thought about it last night, I realized that yes, I'd be incredibly sad if Hermione was in your place. But with you, it feels like I'm losing a part of me. I love her, but you're the one I want to be with."

By now, Harry's eyes are streaming like faucets. He's overjoyed and still sad as hell and nauseous and his lungs hurt and he's never been so glad to be alive. "Ron," he chokes. "I'm sorry."

Ron cocks an eyebrow. "What for?"

Harry sniffles. "For making you worry so much, and for shutting you out."

"Shh." Ron rocks them back and forth. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I had no idea I was making you feel so isolated. But I never want to do that again; I want to be with you all the time, and I want to make you feel so loved. I want you to stop living on the sidelines – in the shadows."

It's been nearly a week since Ron and Harry started dating. They've never tried to conceal it, because everyone knows they're perfect for each other. It's past dinnertime and Seamus, Dean, Neville, Harry and Ron are all situated on their beds, shooting the breeze until they fall asleep. Harry sits obediently in Ron's lap, their fingers intertwined.

"You two were meant for each other, you know that?" Neville smiles admiringly.

"I dunno, Nev," Seamus smirks. "I still say Ron shoulda stayed with Hermione instead of this git." A pillow flies from across the room and hits him square in the head. "Gahh, I was only joking."

Harry snickers and snuggles deeper into Ron's arms. This is how it's supposed to be. He was never meant to be alone – he was never meant to live life on the sidelines. All those days he spent watching everybody pass him by were such a waste. But he doesn't have to do that anymore because now he's the one living. He isn't all by himself anymore and he can't imagine anyone he'd rather not be alone with.