In the Shadows

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

By: Susan

Summary: After Harry's name is pulled from the Goblet of Fire, Hermione and Ron have a talk about just what Ron is best at.

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"Harry Potter."

As Harry exited the Hall amid the buzzing and whispers, Ron sat and stared, openmouthed. His best friend? He'd put his name in the Goblet of Fire and hadn't told him. Some friend he was. Suddenly, he felt a surge of anger towards him. He stared at Harry's retreating back, anger throbbing through his veins, when Hermione nudged him.

"Come on, Ron," she said urgently, "Let's go out on the grounds; I expect the Common Room will be crowded."

He just stared at her, not moving from his seat. He vaguely noticed that the whole of the Great Hall was getting up, many people still whispering around him. Hermione grabbed Ron's arm.

"Get up, Ron," she pleaded. He stood up slowly; Hermione kept her grip on his arm and steered him out of the Hall and towards the grounds.

A massive gust of wind and snow grazed their faces as they walked outside, and Hermione nervously stared at Ron, keeping her eyes on his.

She surveyed his freckled face for a moment. He looked at the ground.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly, trying to hide a shiver from him. They weren't wearing cloaks, and Hermione was sincerely wishing she'd dragged Ron off someplace warmer where they could talk.

Ron stared at her, "I can't believe him! I'm supposed to be his best friend, why wouldn't he tell me he was putting his name in? He said it himself, last night, he would've put it in when he was alone-"

"Ron, you know Harry didn't put his name in there. How could he have fooled that age line? Be reasonable."

Ron looked stubborn. "Of course he put his name in there, Hermione," he said knowingly, "He's a bloody, attention seeking git."

Hermione looked shocked. "Ron, don't say things like that," she said severely, shivering once more from the cold. "Harry will have enough to deal with; he doesn't need you to act like a child."

He turned away from her and started off back to the castle. The snow dancing in the wind was becoming increasingly thicker as she tugged his arm again.

He stared at her once again. Her dark eyes were so perceptive, and he knew that lying would do nothing at all for the conversation.

"Hermione…I'm sick of this, you know? I feel like I'm always in the shadows, behind everyone. It's easier for you, you know, you're really smart and it shows, but I haven't got anything; when people see Harry they go grovel at his feet and I just sort of stand there," he looked up, noticing that Hermione was biting her lip and looking at him sadly. "I dunno," he added, "I suppose I just don't get that."

Hermione was quiet, not really knowing what to say. She guessed that this inferiority complex that Ron was so accurately describing (either that, or it was extreme immaturity) had stemmed from being in a family of so many children. Feeling terrible, she put a hand on his shoulder, trying to be a comfort. He shrugged it off.

"Ron, honestly, you're being silly. I know you're jealous that Harry's always got people fawning over him, but it's certainly not his fault. You can't go blaming him for it, can you?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not jealous," he said coolly, "I'm just angry. It just seems like Harry gets so much fame and fortune and other people get none. Shouldn't it be evened out a bit?"

Hermione looked at him sadly. "Don't blame him because he has a terrible habit of being pulled into trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if someone's put his name in there to try and hurt him."

Ron looked indifferent. "I haven't got anything," he said angrily, mashing the snow with the imprint of his foot. "I haven't got any money; I haven't got any smarts or any special talents," he looked down at the ground, "Sometimes I don't even know why I bother."

"You're a great wizard," Hermione said quietly, taking his hand, which felt icy and frozen. He laughed scornfully, and she looked reproachful. "Well you are, Ron."

"But there are always better ones," he said, giving her a meaningful look. "I've never been best at anything."

"You're very funny," Hermione said quickly, "You can always make Harry and I laugh."

"But Fred and George are funnier," he replied.

"You're quite good at chess," she told him, and he smiled.

"But that's not something to pride yourself upon," he said, his smile vanishing.

"You should always pride yourself on your talents," Hermione said, and he glanced at her with a small smile. Then, suddenly aware that they were holding hands, Ron blushed; his ears turned even redder than the cold had made them. However, he didn't let go of her hand. Hermione was glad; it was incredibly cold outside, and darker than when they had come out.

"So other than chess, I'm not best at anything." He shrugged.

"You're my best friend," Hermione whispered to him, then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. His ears turned even pinker, and he stared at the ground. Her lips had left an imprint of warmth on his icy cheek, and suddenly he realized how terribly cold it was out there.

"Come on," he said urgently, tugging on her arm. "It's really cold out here, I don't want you to get sick." She grinned as he took her hand and intertwined his fingers with her own, clasping it a little tighter, and trudged back towards the castle.

A shower of warmth washed over them as they made their way back inside, and they passed Fred and George holding a huge bag of what looked like snacks from various places in Hogsmeade and a tanker of butterbeer. They grinned at Ron and Hermione, who let go of each other's hands at once.

"We've just been getting the party ready," Fred said.

"Yes," George agreed, "All the Gryffindors are really excited that Harry's a champion too."

"Come on, we'd better get this up to the Common Room." They ran up the staircase in front of them leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the hall.

Ron looked upset again, and Hermione pursed her lips and took his hand. "Please don't be terrible to Harry, Ron," she said, "He didn't ask for all of this."

Ron shrugged again, "I dunno what's going to happen," he said, signaling her to drop it. They continued up the stairs and went to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Stopping a few paces before it, Ron looked at Hermione. "Listen, Hermione?" he said gruffly, "Er…Thanks."

And they smiled at each other, knowing that whatever would happen in the future, they would always be there for one another.

xxx