You show people what you're willing to fight for when you fight your friends.

[broken_harry]

Date: June 26, 2000
Time: Morning
Location The Phoenix
Characters Involved: The Trio...that's right, they're back. Harry, Ron, & Hermione
Rating: PG-13...I bet you thought they were going to be nice, didn't you?
Incomplete

Comments

[broken_harry]

Nope. The storm hit and in full force too. Harry's head fell against his chest, hand still holding the icebox door open. He didn't want to deal with this. Not with Draco, not with Ginny, and sure as hell not with Ron. There was a reason why he hadn't said anything to anyone...OK, a few reasons, but not the least of which was the number of Weasley tempers involved. He was beginning to feel lucky that no red headed tempests had struck him for a bit now, not since the last row with GInny, but it looked like luck had run out on him.

He closed the door slowly, turning at a speed to match, in just enough time to see Ron reach for one of mugs Seamus had given to the residents of The Phoenix. His brow furrowed and then lowered over narrowed green eyes beneath as Ron started talking. Once again the lanky arse was jumping to conclusions, completely wrong conclusions and Harry wasn't in the mood to straighten him out.

"That's right, Ron. I liked IT. That's exactly why I didn't tell you or Ginny or send Skeeter an owl about it. I bloody well enjoyed it, best fucking kiss I've ever got. That's why I didn't say a bloody thing about it." If Ron was furious, Harry's anger was steadily rising to match. His fists clenched under the tension of yet one more person who didn't understand. Only this was worse. This was his best mate. He hadn't only misjudged him, but had assumed the worse. All for what? Because it was his bleeding sister (not to mention, undoubtedly, the Twins) who'd fed him full of their anger. Bloody effing perfect.

"Couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that it was none of any of your bloody business!" Harry's eyes widened for a spit second at Ron's threat to break Draco's mug. The twit had gone completely barmy!

"Put the bloody mug down, Ron." Harry crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back against the ice box with a casual air not genuinely felt. "You know what, Weasley? You want to break it, go right ahead. Will that prove to you that I'm not snogging Malfoy?" Harry spoke with all the sarcasm that a situation like this deserved, which was quite a bit.

[sixthweasleyson]

Now he had gone too far. As the saying goes - cross with one Weasley, and you've crossed them all. And there was quite the consequence to deal with as a result. But for the meantime, if Ron frowned any further the corners of his lips might have melted off his face due to overheating. And the fists formed was a clear declaration of his oncoming rage. Looks like a Peace Treaty in the nearby future wasn't going to happen anytime soon, and he damn well knew it. Ron gritted his teeth together before placing the glass aside. It was useless to him now.

"Why do you have to be so bloody full of it?!" He seethed, centering his full attention on the man he once called 'friend'. "What you do SHOULD be my fucking business. Because we're friends! Or.. we were." Aah, past tense. That always came in handy for an argument. Ocean blues widened to a point where they seemed to pop out of his skill at the newfound information. But he replaced the shocked expression with renewed hatred.

This was far worse than their fued during fourth year. Far worse, indeed. Ron even managed to conjur the image of wringing Harry's neck between his bare hands in his mind. (And quite clearly, if I might add) Forget the wand! He wasn't about to waste time waving a stupid stick around while mumbling some random incantation.

"I've always known that Malfoy was a limp-wristed poofer, running to his Dear ol' Daddy.. but I never expected you to be drawn into his mind games." Ron strained his voice from rising into louder volumes, but it was obvious that he was failing miserably. "Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Savior who defeated Lord Voldemort.. got taken away by a lowly ferret!" And now the anger began to unleash itself. For months after agreeing to share the same roof with Malfoy, the truth was finally unraveled.

"So why, Harry? Why?" Ron questioned in a stern tone. "Was my sister not good enough for you to begin with? Or were you always interested with the other team?"

[broken_harry]

Harry smirked on the inside, feeling rather smug as Ron set the mug down. He wasn't exactly expecting the blonde twat to come back to the house after all the downfall, but being more than a bit susceptible to the effects of guilt, Harry wasn't exactly feeling up to the sight of Draco's mug in shards across the kitchen floor. Of course, a quick spell would have repaired it, but still...images and all.

His mood changed back to jaw clenching, want to launch across the room and beat his thick head in, rage as Ron continued on his rant. And there was the guilt. Were friends? What the bloody hell was THAT?!

"Well, it's a good thing we aren't friends any more, Ron, since I'm not telling you a bloody thing! And this is fucking WHY! You're a damned wanker about things you don't understand..."

Harry's jaw dropped as Ron's expression changed and suddenly started yelling about poofer and being taken away by ferrets and another team. Harry's mouth slammed shut as his feet propelled him forward, fingers clenched into fists wanting to pound words into silence. Thankfully (for Harry or Ron? Or both?) the kitchen island blocked Harry from his target. He gripped the edge of the butcher block in a white knuckled grip that threatened to push through the wood to splinters.

"Has anyone told you how incredibly daft you are, Weasley? I was being fucking sarcastic, you ignorant prat! You've known me for almost TEN years and you think I'm just going to switch teams because the Ferret fancies me? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Harry's eyes narrowed even furthered. Who was this idiot who had taken over his best mate's body and turned him into some kind of....person he'd always been. Flashes of anger that spread to grudges lasting as long as his stubborn streak could hold out. And that was a very long time. So why the hell was Harry so pissed off about it now? Why not turn out of the kitchen and leave the prat to flail about in his own wild accusations and assumptions?

Because they weren't bloody true!

"It must be something in your blood, Ron. You and Ginny and the twins...none of you get it! Are the lot of you just sitting around the shoppe coming up with this rubbish? Ginny and me...we couldn't be having this row because she can't get it through her skull that I'm not the fucking same person I was before. I can't just go find a cottage somewhere and live the happy life she wants." Harry leaned in over the counter, fire spitting from his voice and from green eyes that darkened with rage as much as they sparked with a venom aimed at the redhead across from him.

"No...it's simpler than that, isn't it? Malfoy kissed Harry and now he's fucking queer." Harry's face mouth snarled into a disgusted line. "You lot are bloody mental."