Ron left the headmaster's office, leaving his second in command to enervate the women and dispatch with the paralyzed death eaters in the dungeons. Ron sighed... the hardest task was yet to come.

As Ron entered the great hall, he was soon swamped by admirers. A rainbow of blue, yellow, and crimson swarmed around him, clamoring for details of what had transpired since he had removed them from the dungeon. In the far corner, a small huddle of green clad students made themselves as small as possible – even from this distance Ron could easily make out the terror clearly visible on their faces.

However, Ron had no time for the swarms of adoring fan girls (funny, how even with all the magical world had produced, no one had ever come up with a charm to keep robes in place when they were trampled by other squealing bodies.

"Harry, mate – you alright?" Ron pushed through the adoring crowd, making his way over to Harry, who was standing away from the rest of the students, a tight smile on his face. "Yeh Ron... I'm fine. Just... just wish... nah, forget it Ron." A forced smile. "How was it, fighting the Death Wankers."

"Harry...Harry..." Ron shook his head, pulling his long time friend to the side. "It's more than that, innit? I've known you a long time, no reason to hold back on me now."

For a moment, Harry paused. Then, in an instant, years of pent up resentment came pouring out.

"Blood hell Ron. I'm the boy-who-lived. Remember when I first came here? People couldn't stop gawking like I was the bloody hero. Now... now I'm just a sidekick."

Ron nodded, unsure what to say. He had long suspected that Harry was dissatisfied with his yearly decline in the house, but hadn't realized just how bad it was. Ruefully, he sighed. It was one thing dealing with Harry during his moods, but in this case, his friends low self esteem was only complicated matters. How many times had Ron told Harry just how wonderful a friend he was? How valuable to the trio he was? How... well not roguishly handsome, that was a description fit for one man only, but a decent enough looking bloke?

"It's always bloody you Ron. Remember fourth year, before the ball?" Ron nodded, unsure where Harry was going. "I went up to Chang and said I had a question for her, and she just blurted out, 'Ron wants me to go to the ball with him?' And if that wasn't enough... Fifth year – I finally thought something was about me, just Harry... but no. Born to those that thrice defied him... his greatest friend shall lead the world to goodness. Everything Ron, everything is about you."

The Great Hall had quieted during this rant, an eerie silence falling as Harry finished. Looking around at the angry faces aimed in Harry's direction, Ron put an arm around his friend, steering him out of the hall and down the main corridor, coming to a stop and pulling him into an empty classroom.

"Harry... I don't know where to begin... well, actually I do." Harry looked up, grief stricken. He hadn't meant to hurt Ron, but somethings needed to be said. Would Ron give up on him now? Despite the callous words, he had come to depend on Ron for... for everything really. If Ron gave up on him now... Fortunately, it was a foolish thought, for Ron never gave up on those he called his friends. His word, after all, was his most valuable possession. Even more so than his private Quidditch team.

"I know you think you've had it rough. But I'd give anything to be in your position. Bollocks mate, I may have foiled Old Voldy's most dastardly plans with my cunning and skill, but I've never beaten him out of sheer dumb luck, and you were only a baby at the time!" Ron grinned, relieved when he got a small chuckle from Harry. Then, somberly, he continued. "I'd give anything to be in your shoes mate – to have had that fame and fortune without having to lift a finger... but I had to work for mine, and wait for a fluke in the registration office. And yeah, I've got a great family who all look up to me, and more girls throwing themselves at me than I know what to do with... but you had a chocolate frog card by the time you were three, so I think we're even, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, though more easily, less grudgingly. "I want you to know Ron, I'm not really angry at you... I mean how could I be, given how amazingly generous and smart and terrific and... well not to sound a bit camp, but you're perfect."

"Well, yes, I suppose," Ron responded, looking down in modesty. "But hey, we're a team and always have been. Remember first year? If you hadn't mucked up which square you were supposed to land on, I'd never have seen the checkmate three moves later. And second year? I don't think I could've asked you to have been in a better position to take that memory charm meant for me."

Harry looked down, equal parts pleased and embarrassed. "Wasn't anything Ron... bloody hell, Lockhart's charm didn't do anything but tickle. Useless prat."

Ron shrugged, realizing perhaps his best friend needed a bit of an ego boost. "Mate, it wasn't nothing. It doesn't matter if the charm didn't work, it could have. Without you as a human shield, I might have been lost down there, and then who would have rescued Ginny and the entire Holyhead Harpies from Voldemort?"

Harry puffed out his chest proudly. "Well, I do what I can. You'd be bloody lost without me Ron. Don't worry though" he added with an exaggerated wink, "I won't be sharing with your girls who the real brains of the operations is."

The mood having cleared considerably, the two once-again-amicable friends strolled out of the classroom, only to be immediately confronted by clearly terrified yet equally clearly determined group of Slytherins.

"Potty head, ...Sir..." Draco ground out, a mix between his usual drawl and terror riddled determination, "I'm going to get you for what you did to my father. We all are." Hesitantly, the crowd of three thousand Slytherins nodded in unison.

Ron rolled his eyes. Bloody typical.