A Line in the Sand
Ron cornered him three days later.
Harry had been walking back from the library, arms full of books, when Ron stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
Harry sighed, already bracing himself. “What do you want?”
Ron shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Look, mate—I think we should just... move on from all this.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “All what, exactly?”
Ron’s jaw ticked. “The—the Prefect stuff. The Healer stuff. Just—you know.”
Harry’s stomach twisted. “You want me to pretend none of it’s happening?”
Ron exhaled sharply. “I just want things to go back to normal, alright?”
Harry stared at him.
Because that was it, wasn’t it?
Ron didn’t want an apology. Didn’t want to actually fix things.
He just wanted Harry to stop changing.
Harry tightened his grip on his books.
“Normal for who?” he asked.
Ron frowned. “What?”
Harry shook his head. “You don’t want things to be normal. You want me to be the same. To stay right where I was so you don’t feel like I’m—what, leaving you behind?”
Ron’s ears turned red.
“That’s not—”
“Yes, it is,” Harry cut in, his voice calm but sharp. “And I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to stop moving forward just because you don’t like it.”
Ron scowled. “Merlin, Harry, you’re acting like I’m some kind of villain.”
“No,” Harry said simply. “You’re just not my friend anymore.”
The words landed hard.
Ron flinched.
For a moment, it looked like he wanted to argue. To deny it, to fight back.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Ron stepped back.
His hands clenched at his sides. His mouth opened—then closed.
And then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Harry watched him go, heart pounding.
It was really over.
And to his surprise—
It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.
Seamus Finnigan had many talents.
Blowing things up? Check.
Sneaking Firewhiskey into Gryffindor Tower? Double check.
Reading a room? Somewhat check.
But noticing when someone needed him? That was his best talent of all.
Which was why, over the next few days, Seamus made a point to insert himself firmly into Harry’s life.
Subtly? Absolutely not.
First, it started with carrying Harry’s books.
“Seamus, I can carry my own—”
“Nope,” Seamus said, plucking them out of his hands. “Not while I’m here, love.”
Harry sighed dramatically.
Then it was sitting next to him in every class.
“Oi, Potter, got room for one more?” Seamus grinned, dropping into the seat beside him.
Harry frowned. “What happened to sitting with Dean?”
Seamus smirked. “Told ‘im I had more important business.”
Then came the public glaring.
Every time Ron entered the room, Seamus would lean back, cross his arms, and stare at him like he was a personal offense.
“Seamus,” Harry muttered as they walked into the Great Hall, “you don’t have to glare at him every time you see him.”
“Aye, I do,” Seamus said cheerfully. “It’s me new hobby.”
Harry groaned.
But deep down?
It felt nice having someone in his corner.
Hermione had been watching everything.
And by Friday morning, she had had enough.
She caught Ron outside the Great Hall, blocking his path.
“Ronald Weasley,” she said, voice low and dangerous.
Ron winced. “Uh—Hermione?”
“You are the biggest prat I have ever met.”
Ron blinked. “Wait, wha—”
“No,” Hermione cut in. “I am talking, and you are going to listen.”
Ron opened his mouth.
Hermione lifted a finger. “Not. A. Word.”
Ron closed his mouth.
Hermione crossed her arms. “Harry is doing something for himself for the first time ever, and instead of supporting him, you’ve spent the last month making him feel guilty about it.”
Ron scowled. “I never—”
“YES, YOU DID,” Hermione snapped.
Ron flinched.
Hermione took a breath.
Then—her voice softened.
“You pushed him away, Ron,” she said quietly. “Not the other way around.”
Ron didn’t answer.
And for the first time—Hermione didn’t try to fix it.
She just sighed and walked past him, into the Great Hall.
Leaving Ron alone.
That night, Harry sat by the fire, Seamus beside him, Hermione on the other side.
It felt right.
For so long, he had held onto Ron. Held onto the idea that they would always be best mates.
But now?
He was done holding on.
He had new things to focus on.
His Healer training. His Prefect duties. His new friendships.
And maybe—just maybe—
The Irish boy beside him who refused to leave his side.
Seamus nudged him. “Oi, Potter.”
Harry hummed, tilting his head toward him. “Yeah?”
Seamus smirked. “Fancy a late-night kitchen run?”
Harry laughed. “Thought you’d never ask.”
And as they slipped out of the common room, laughing in the quiet halls of Hogwarts—
Harry realized something.
For the first time in years—
He felt light.
He felt free.
He felt happy.
And he wasn’t looking back.