One Or The Other

by She's a Star

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: I had this idea a long time ago, and finally got around to writing it. The fic didn't turn out that fabulously, but oh well...I haven't written HP for a while, so I lost my grasp on the characters a bit. Well...read anyways. :) Oooh, brilliant save.

~*~

"Lousy git," Ron Weasley muttered furiously to himself as he watched Harry disappear into the boys' dormitory. "Bloody stupid prat."

He didn't need Harry, anyhow. He had lots of other friends. BETTER friends...friends that weren't attention-desperate midgets with disfigured foreheads.

He didn't need Harry.

"I don't need Harry," he said aloud to the roaring fire, which served as his only company in the otherwise deserted common room.

"What's going on?"

Ron spun around to see Hermione standing behind him, a pink bathrobe wrapped around her slim form.

"I heard shouting," Hermione continued. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ron mumbled.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"You're not getting off that easy," she declared.

"Stupid prat got all angry because I came downstairs," Ron said angrily. "Like he owns the bloody common room now, too!"

"Ron-"

"He threw a bloody Goddamn Potter Stinks badge at me!" Ron exclaimed, lifting it from the floor as evidence.

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare at his choice of language, then responded, "Well, he must have had a good reason."

Ron felt fury surge through his veins, then responded crossly, "Oh, yes, naturally it's all my fault, isn't it, Hermione? HARRY must have had a good reason, because I'm the troublemaker, aren't I? I'm the one that ruins everything."

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Hermione protested. "I-"

"Well, you said it like that," Ron cut her off fiercely.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed.

"What?" Ron snapped.

"You two can't stay angry at one another forever."

"Give me one good reason why," Ron muttered foully.

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Because you're best friends. You can't survive without each other."

"Oh, please, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes. "I have other friends."

"Yes, but do you have any other best ones?"

"You."

"Oh, besides me, you know that. After all, I'm no fun."

"Sure you are," Ron argued with a faint smile. "I mean, writing essays? Reading about goblin rebellions? Reciting Hogwarts, A History? Life can't get any more exciting than that."

"Oh, hush up," Hermione commanded, swatting him lightly on the arm with a hint of a smile dancing across the corners of her mouth.

"But seriously," Ron said, the anger rushing back to his tone, "I have other friends. I don't need Harry."

"Why not?"

"Well," Ron said crossly, "It's not exactly great fun to be constantly in the shadow of the Boy Who Lived, Quidditch star and Gryffindor Poster Boy."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it after a few seconds. She repeated the procedure a few times before finally seeming to realize that she couldn't think of an adequate comeback, and in addition was starting to look a bit like a fish.

"Don't bother trying to think up something comforting," Ron said bitterly. "It's not going to help."

"Why, aren't we pessimistic?" Hermione asked lightly.

"What's there to be optimistic about?" Ron retorted, annoyed.

"That you're not the Boy Who Lived, for one thing," Hermione said in her signature matter-of-fact tone. "Would you really like people whispering every time they saw you? Would you like to be without any family in the world? To have your whole life destroyed in a single instant? To be lucky if you escape each school year with your life?"

"Hey," Ron said indignantly, "I've almost died almost as many times as he has!"

Hermione looked incredibly satisfied with his answer as she replied, "That's because you're his best friend, and you're in on it together."

"Well, not anymore," Ron declared.

Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Fine, don't believe me," she said huffily. "But you know I'm always right."

"You're going to be wrong this time," Ron stated.

"Oh, how do you know?"

"It's my aura," Ron said with a mischievous grin. "You know, I really am Trelawney's star pupil." He began to wave his hands ridiculously around an invisible crystal ball. In an over-exaggeratedly misty voice, he proclaimed in a whisper, "The brilliant chessmaster will never again befriend the midget in glasses. Ohhhhh."

"Oh, stop it," Hermione commanded, sounding a bit upset. "I'm not going to bounce back and forth being friends with one or the other, you know."

"Nah," Ron said, his voice containing a hit of bitterness. "You'll just stick with Harry."

"Ronald Weasley, why would I do that?" Hermione demanded, looking extremely annoyed.

Ron held back a smile at the prospect of making her mad. She really made it all too easy.

"Well," he said nonchalantly, "Who else would you stick with?"

Hermione remained quiet for a moment, staring at him intensely. Finally, she spoke up.

"Why do you put yourself down like that?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, keeping his voice casual. "I'm not putting myself down."

"Yes you are!" Hermione argued. "You always do! Making it sound as though everyone believes Harry's so much better than you!"

"No I don't," Ron said. "I'm just being realistic. He IS better than me. I'm not the youngest Seeker in a century. I haven't defeated You-Know-Who countless times. I don't have loads of galleons in Gringotts."

"Well, everyone has their positive qualities!" Hermione exclaimed. "I mean, Harry isn't an undefeated chess champ. He can't make everyone laugh hysterically all the time. He doesn't have your gift for sarcasm."

"Oooh," Ron said darkly, "Because a gift for sarcasm is much better than defeating the most evil dark wizard of our time, hands down."

"See?" Hermione said brightly. "There you go again."

"It's instinct," Ron retorted, a bit annoyed. Why did she have to be so damned cheerful?

"Well," Hermione said, then placed her hand in front of her mouth to cover a large yawn.

"Well," she said again, "You're every bit as spectacular as he is, and don't think that just because he's defeated You-Know-Who you aren't. We're all different, you know. It doesn't mean one of us is any better than the other."

"Okay," Ron muttered, trying to look as though he wasn't actually considering what she said.

"Will you promise me you'll at least TRY to make up with him?" Hermione asked, her tone a mixture of pleading and firmness.

Ron shrugged. "I guess."

"Ron, I'm SERIOUS-"

"I'll consider it, okay?" Ron snapped.

Hermione watched him quizzically for a moment.

"Is that the best I can get you to promise?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

"Okay, then," Hermione gave him a small half-smile. "I think I'll go to bed now, then. Good night."

"'Night," Ron responded. He watched her retreating back for a moment before calling out, "Hermione?"

She spun around.

"Yes?"

'Will you go to the ball with me?' Come on, say it you prat! It's not all that bloody difficult! It's...

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"Er...thanks," he said weakly.

A brilliant smile spread out across her face.

"You're welcome," she said quietly, then turned and disappeared into her dormitory.

"Blimey, Ron, you are a bloody idiot!" he muttered in fury to himself as soon as she had disappeared.

Oh well. He had plenty of time to ask her, anyhow. It wasn't as if anyone else would. Of course, he just wanted to go as friends. If a better girl came along, he'd ask her instead.

There just...didn't seem to be anyone else better around, that was all.

Except maybe Fleur.

Maybe.