Knowing

 48 hours.

48 hours since Ron had fallen down the stairs.

48 hours since anyone had seen Ernie Macmillan after he had left Dumbledore's office. Rumor had it he had been suspended until Ron could wake up and tell Dumble, McGonagall, or Professor Sprout the truth of what happened.

48 hours since he and Ginny could be around each other without arguing.

48 hours since Harry had slept for more than 20 minutes at a time.

Within those 48 hours, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had arrived. There was talk of moving Ron to St. Mungo's, but there was nothing they could do there that Madame Pomfrey could not do for him at Hogwarts. She had set his broken bones but could not heal them while Ron was unconscious; apparently there were complications that could arise if she attempted to do it while he was not conscious.

Harry and Mike spent a lot of time together. They had sat outside the hospital wing for several hours. Occasionally one of them would leave to use the restroom but one of them always remained. When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived to speak to Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore, Ron was then allowed visitors. Harry and Mike remained at his bedside.

It was odd being friends with Mike. Harry surprisingly lost all of his jealousy. He found himself wanting Mike to be there. He even caught himself thinking of Mike as Ron's boyfriend. The Ravenclaw certainly acted like it. Mike hung on to every word Madame Pomfrey said about Ron's health. He paced when he got uncomfortable sitting. Occasionally Harry caught Mike holding Ron's hand as he sat at his side.

On the second day, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had to leave. Mr. Weasley had an important meeting at the ministry. And according to Madame Pomfrey, she felt Ron was going to be okay. He just needed to wake up. She was concerned for his memory, but she no longer seemed concerned about the head injury itself.

"I saw Justin."

Harry looked up at Mike, who was on the opposite side of Ron's bed, seated on a chair leaning forward, his arms folded over his knees.

"When?" Harry asked.

"Walking here from lunch. He was coming back from Professor Sprouts office. I think he was visiting Ernie. That's where everyone says he is. He looked really upset. I think he wants to see Ron, but-"

"Like hell," Harry snapped, his face screwed up in disgust.

The story floating around the castle was accurate enough. Everyone seemed to believe Ernie had pushed him. There were some students who had seen the staircases moving, and they assumed that maybe Ron had simply fallen.

However, there was a general consensus of opinion also going around…

He had it coming.

Roger had yet to visit, which was a bit surprising to Harry. He didn't know the dynamic between the Ravenclaw captain, Mike, and Ron, but it seemed like he would have come to check up on them. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had popped in twice. Lavender and Parvati had stopped by and left Ron a basket full of sweets. Hermione came and went. Seeing Ron lifeless seemed to scare her. The twins stopped by after every class and every meal. Ginny frequented, but because of the tension between her and Harry, she mostly avoided the hospital wing.

Right as Harry was about to ask Michael Corner if he'd heard anything else, the squeaking and scratching sound of the infirmary doors opening caused them both to look over.

Cedric. Cedric Diggory. Dressed in his practice robes.

Harry and Mike exchanged a look; it wasn't exactly shocking that he was there, but he'd been unexpected. Both of them were silently asking each other how they felt about this. Neither had an answer. They both shrugged at each other. Cedric was pretty neutral in all this. So, in the end, Harry simply decided to be polite.

"Hey, Cedric," he said quietly.  

"Hey," he replied, a tiny wrinkle of concern on his forehead, "No change?"

"No," Mike answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a worried, impatient expression.

"Damn." The Hufflepuff walked over with a sigh. "Well, I came to check on him. But…I also came to apologize. You know, as a seventh year Hufflepuff…captain, and Head Boy…I have to take some responsibility for my house members. Especially my younger ones."

Harry blinked. For some reason, he had completely forgotten that Ernie, Justin, and Cedric were all in the same house. They were all such…different people. "Well…" he said, "Thanks. But it's not your fault."

Cedric sighed again as he looked down at Ron. "I've heard the rumors," he said quietly, "About his reputation and what not. Hell, I was a part of it, too. But…no matter what actually happened he didn't deserve this." He folded his arms and sighed.

"Do you think Ernie pushed him?" Mike asked him. Harry picked up on the fact that Mike suddenly seemed a bit icy now.

"I don't know," Cedric replied, unfazed by Mike's snippiness, "All I know is that Ernie and Justin were yelling at each other for hours the night before it happened. It was nearly one before I finally stepped in. So everyone in Hufflepuff knew that Justin and Ron had hooked up. That's pretty much how the whole castle knew before it even happened."

"Do you think Ernie pushed him?" Mike repeated, each word crisp. Harry wanted to know as well.

"I…" Cedric said slowly, "Look…Ernie does have a tendency to get heated up very quickly. He can have a temper. But I have never seen him put his hands on anyone. And you said yourself they were close to the staircase. They were arguing. I think it was an accident. I've known Ernie for six years and I've been around him a lot. He's never hit anyone or shoved them or anything like that. And that night was probably the only time he raised his voice. At least that I ever heard."

"Have you talked to Justin?" Harry asked him, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," Cedric replied with a one shouldered shrug. "He's still a wreck. He doesn't know what to think. I get the feeling he wants to believe it was an accident, but he thinks Ernie did it. He never said it out loud, but…"

"What about Ernie?" Mike asked. He got to his feet slowly. "You heard from him?"

"No," Cedric replied patiently. He glanced toward the left wall, where the clock sat above the window. "I have to get going. I just wanted to apologize on their behalf and let you guys know that there are people in the castle who don't think he deserved it."

It was around 8 o clock that night that Mike and Harry were ushered out. When they reached the hallway, Mike asked Harry what Harry had wanted to ask him.

"Do you think he'll wake up?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly, despite the fact that he questioned it himself. It had been two days. Ron should be awake.

"Alright," Mike replied with a heavy sigh, "Well…I have a match tomorrow. Slytherin. So…I'll be here in the morning, and then after."

"Mike," Harry replied, hoping he sounded patient, "It's okay to not be here all the time. You've been here nonstop. And I really appreciate that a lot. And Ron will, too. You can take breaks, and no one will judge you for it."

"I know," the Ravenclaw said with a shrug, "I just…miss him. He gets me, you know? I have great friends, and they mean a lot to me. But…Ron's different." His shoulders dropped. "Harry…do you like him?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his face getting hot. But he was just stalling.

"You know what I mean," Mike retorted, "You two have been different ever since he came out."

"Neither of us has feelings for each other," Harry said honestly. The only thing that they were feeling was an animalistic need to fuck each other senseless. For several hours. "I'm pretty sure he likes you."

He hoped Michael couldn't sense that he was lying. But Harry needed him to stray from thoughts of him and Ron liking each other.

In the morning, Harry sat up at the first light. After rubbing his eyes, he placed his glasses on and reached under his pillow for the Marauders Map. He let his eyes adjust as he opened it and then looked directly at the hospital wing. In the infirmary was Ron's name, just hovering, as it had been for the past three days.

Then…after Harry watched for a moment, Ron's name moved slightly to the left, then back to where it was. Harry did not blink and continued to stare at his best friends name. It then moved to the right, just barely, and then back to it's starting point.

Harry jumped out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt as he slipped into his shoes and shot out the door. He sprinted to the infirmary, his lungs threatening to explode. When he got there, he had a massive stich in his side as he pushed the doors open.

There he was. Sitting up as Madame Pomfrey stood next to him, scribbling something on a short piece of parchment.

"Oh my God," Harry wheezed, walking over with a slight limp, "You're awake!"

Surprisingly, Madame Pomfrey looked over and smiled at him. Ron, looking a bit pale, smiled at him as well. His shirt was off, and the blanket was on his lap. He had purple and red bruising on the left side of his stomach, chest, and shoulder that looked extremely painful.

"Hey," Ron said slowly, almost bashfully. Pink quickly tinged his cheeks and nose, which was annoyingly cute.

"You're okay?" Harry asked, dropping heavily in the chair by his best friends hospital bed, still catching his breath.

"It hurts," Ron replied, his head dropping back onto the pillow behind his head, "Bad. I think I'm okay, though. But-"

"But?" Harry interrupted, looking from Ron to Madame Pomfrey concern causing his skin to prickle.  

"But," Madame Pomfrey said lightly, "His memory is a bit foggy. It should only last a short while."

"What?" Harry's brows knitted, "You lost your memory!?"

"No," Ron answered quickly, bringing his head back down, "It's just…just bits and pieces that aren't there. It's hard to explain."

Madame Pomfrey handed Ron a cup of something and then headed back to her office. Ron set the glass on the nightstand next to him. Harry took a deep breath.

"Do you know how you got hurt?" he asked carefully.

"I fell down the stairs?" Ron replied, like he was asking a question, his eyes wide.

"Yeah," Harry said with a slow nod, "Um…do you remember how?"

Ron dropped his head, shaking it. "No."

"Do you remember arguing with Ernie?" Harry asked carefully.

"No. The last thing I remember was…me and you…" Ron whispered, his cheeks going pink again, "On the stairs, you know…and…and that's it."

"Oh," Harry murmured, "Well…damn." He huffed out a short breath.

"What?" Ron asked, a worry line in his forehead.

"No, nothing," Harry said quickly, "I'm not upset or anything. It's just…everyone's wondering, you know, how…how you fell. If it was an accident, or…"

"If someone pushed me," Ron finished, bunching up the blanket in his hands, "I'm sorry. I just don't remember."

"It's okay," Harry replied gently, "Don't push yourself." He glanced toward the hospital doors, then behind him at Madame Pomfrey's office. Then he stood and bent over Ron's bed. His heart pounding rapidly, he reached a hand out and put it on the side of his best friends cheek, then leaned down and kissed him on the top of his head. "I'm just glad you're okay."

He sat back down, noticing Ron looked a bit flustered. He shifted in his bed, then grabbed the cup Madame Pomfrey had given him and slammed it. Harry chuckled. "What's that?" he asked curiously.

"Stuff for pain," Ron replied with a smile. "When I woke up and remembered being on the stairs with you…the ones in Gryffindor, I mean…I thought…I thought my memory was really messed up, but…it was true." He smirked. "The games we play."

Harry smirked back. "So fun," he breathed, "But…too bad your boyfriend will be here soon."

"Oh," Ron breathed, "Mike. He's not my boyfriend, you asshole."

"I know," Harry chuckled, "But Ron…he has been here day and night. He's been really worried about you. He risked detention just to get information about you. He got it before anyone else could."

"Of course he did," Ron replied with a happy sigh, "He's stubborn as hell. Um…what about Roger?"

"He came by once, I think," Harry remarked, "When Mike was here while I was in class."

"Where's my mum and dad?" Ron then asked, as if it had just occurred to them that they were not there.

"They were here," Harry said, "But then they had to go to the ministry or something. But by then everyone knew you were going to be awake soon. Madame Pomfrey had no reason to believe you wouldn't. Also, Fred and George are of age and can take over medical guardianship of you while they're gone. I'll write them as soon as I can."

"I…" Ron said slowly, then he tilted his head, "Did you and Ginny break up? I remember you two arguing or something."

"We didn't break up," Harry replied, curling his hand around Ron's, rubbing his palm with his thumb, "But…we also haven't talked that much."

"Was that my fault?" Ron asked tentatively.

"No," Harry said adamently, shaking his head, "Not your fault at all. You know we haven't been too great lately."

"Yeah," Ron whispered, he shifted in his bed again, wincing, "Um…what were you saying about Ernie, though?"

"Oh…" Harry muttered, then he sat up straighter and spoke at a normal level, "You and Ernie were arguing by the stairs you fell down. No one really saw what happened before you fell, and…there's some…I guess two different sides. Half the castle think it was an accident, the other half thinks he pushed you." Harry didn't feel like saying the whole castle actually thought Ron was pushed and cause him to believe that was the truth before his memory came back. Ron was easily swayed by public opinion.

"Ernie?" Ron repeated, dumbfounded, "No…no…Ernie would never do anything like that…I-I don't think so, anyway…" his forehead wrinkled, and he stared straight ahead, thinking, "I…" he leaned forward, covering his face with his hands in frustration, "Fuck! I hate this!"

"What?" Harry asked, somewhat worried, "Are you okay?"

"Why don't I remember?" Ron exclaimed, uncovering his face, "There's no way Ernie would do that! But…"

"But what?"

"But…" Ron bit his lip, "But…I did fuck his boyfriend. I mean, technically he fucked me, but…you know."

"Even so, Ron," Harry said firmly, taking his hand, "That doesn't mean you deserved to be pushed down a flight of stairs! He could have killed you! You know that, right? You could have died!"

"I know," Ron agreed quietly, "But-"

At that point, the doors swung open aggressively, and a familiar voice cried out, "Ron!"

Ron and Harry looked over, and Mike was at Ron's side in seconds. He looked so happy and relieved that it briefly warmed Harry's heart. That was, until Mike's hands were on Ron's face, and then his lips on his mouth. They kissed softly, but passionately, and when Mike pulled away, Ron looked as though the Ravenclaw had taken his breath away.

"Hi," he said breathlessly, smiling, blushing a bright red.  

"Hi," Mike replied, caressing Ron's cheeks for a moment before sitting on the edge of his bed, "When did you wake up? God, I missed you."

"Last night, late," Ron said in a small voice, "Madame Pomfrey hasn't let me sleep."

"Makes sense," Mike responded, "You hit your head really fucking hard. Do you-"

"He doesn't remember anything," Harry interrupted, Michael noticed his suddenly crisp tone and looked confused. Harry forced himself to relax. "That's what we were just talking about." Seeing Mike and Ron kiss like that had completely thrown him off.

Unfortunately, it was probably Harry's own fault that Mike had kissed him like that. After all, he'd been the one who told the Ravenclaw that Ron liked him. He now wished he hadn't said anything at all.

Mike deflated. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Ron said quickly, leaning forward but wincing as he did so, "I know you wish I do, and my memory will come back. I just…I don't know when."

"It's okay, Ron," Mike replied patiently, "Don't ever apologize. You can't control this."

Harry's hearing seemed to disappear as Ron and Mike continued to talk. His head maintained a loud, obnoxious, high-pitched screeching noise. Why had Mike just kissed him like that? He knew they shagged, of course, but he had never really seen them kiss so…comfortably. Ron had barely batted an eye.

When Harry finally came back around, Ron was asking Mike about Roger.

"He's okay," Mike was saying, "He's worried. But he's just…Roger, you know. He's not going to act like that."

"Yeah," Ron agreed with a smile, "He wouldn't." He sighed heavily. "So…what happened to Ernie? I mean, is he in trouble, or…"

"Not exactly," Harry responded, "They took him away, I think he' doing independent study with Professor Sprout right now. Justin's been seen around the castle but…he's not taking any sides. Not out loud anyway."

"Do you think he pushed me?" Ron asked them carefully, biting his lip after asking.

"I do," Mike replied instantly, "I think Hufflepuff's are really good at putting on an innocent face to hide the things they're really capable of."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, almost smirking for a moment, "That's like Justin. He seems really sweet, but behind closed doors…"

Harry felt a wave of nausea as he recalled how aggressively the Hufflepuff had been when he and Ron had shagged. The mischievous, dominant gleam in his eyes. The way he spoke. Switching between soft and sweet, and forceful and controlling.  

"Harry?" Ron asked, "Do you think he did it?"

"I think he's capable," Harry answered honestly. "But…I guess we have to wait until your memory comes back. I don't exactly want to place blame until we have all the facts."  

"Madame Pomfrey said she has some elixirs she can try that are supposedly capable of jogging my memory a bit," Ron said bunching up the hem of the blanket in his hands. He shrugged.

"No," Mike said flatly, "Do not take those. Ever. They're dangerous. The main side effect is literally wiping your memory altogether. Just wait for it to come back on it's own, okay?" He grabbed Ron's hand. "Please?"

"How do you know that?" Harry asked curiously.

"I study," Mike replied, eyeing him strangely, "I want to be a Healer. I've been working toward it my whole life. That's why I take extra potions classes and Herbology. Next year I'm shadowing Madame Pomfrey, and this summer I'll be volunteering at St. Mungo's."

This shocked Harry a bit. Mike had never mentioned this at all. After all, the Ravenclaws explanation for why he and Ron were not a couple was that he did not fix people. He didn't think Ron was fixable, or even not worth it. Harry sighed and shifted in his chair.

He needed Ron to get his memory back quickly.

He needed Ron to tell him whether or not Ernie pushed him. He needed to know, so Harry knew if there was someone he needed to kill.

After Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione showed up to the infirmary (asking the same questions), Harry and Mike stuck around for a while. Until Hermione voiced her opinion on the memory jogging elixirs. She was completely for it, arguing with Mike that there was a very low chance of Ron losing his memory altogether.

Mike was having none of it.

"So you're willing to erase your so-claimed best friends complete memory because of a small chance? There's a small chance of people falling down these marble stairs we walk on daily, and that happened to him. So, yeah, sure, let's speed up his healing process just because you're impatient."

"That's not what I was saying!"

"Well, yeah, it was actually. And I also didn't even see you ask Ron what he thought about it either."

Every day Harry was finding himself siding with Michael Corner more than anyone else in his and Ron's life. And when they left the hospital wing, they were equally frustrated. Yes, Harry wanted to know what really happened between Ron and Ernie, but he wasn't going to keep pushing Ron to remember when he was healing from a severe head injury.

The other thing prominent on Harry's mind was Draco Malfoy, and his claims about Ron and Roger Davie's conversation in the locker room. Should Harry believe him? Should he question Ron about it? Or Roger? Or even Mike?

Harry wound up going back to Gryffindor around 3 in the afternoon. He confirmed to nearly everyone in the common room that Ron was awake, and doing well. When he finally got to his dorm, he walked in on Dean and Seamus sitting propped against Seamus's headboard snogging heatedly. They parted quickly when the door shut.

"Sorry," Hary said, and without attitude. He no longer wished ill will on them simply for kissing Ron. It was their relationship, and they'd just been having some fun. Having something horrific happen to Ron was putting things in perspective. His best friend kissing Dean was exceptionally low on the list of things Harry should be worried about.

At least Dean hadn't been cheating on Seamus, or vice versa.

"I heard Ron's awake," Seamus said with a hopeful smile, "How is he?"

"He's good," Harry replied, plopping down on Dean's bed to face them, "His bones are healed or healing. His head is okay, but his memory is really foggy. He doesn't remember what happened. Like if Ernie pushed him or not."

"Everyone knows he did," Dean said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, "Right?" He looked from his boyfriend to Harry, eyebrows raised.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, "Of course I want to blame Ernie…but what if I'm wrong? It could have been an accident." Dean and Seamus paused, then they both made a motion between a nod and a shrug. A move Ron did often. "Can I ask you guys something?"

"I can't guarantee an answer," Seamus replied, "But, yeah."

"Do either of you know anything about Roger Davies? Like if anything happened between him and Ron?"

"No," Dean said, "A far as we know, and what Ron's said, they've never hooked up. Well…they've done stuff, but they never went all the way. I'm pretty sure Mike and Roger hook up more than Mike and Ron."

"Why?" Seamus added.

"Just…another rumor came up. Not one that many people know, but…" Harry's shoulders slumped. Should he bring it up? Or should he keep it quiet? Honestly, though, he needed someone else's opinion. After all, Dean and Seamus seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge on Ron's sex life. "Just…don't repeat it okay? Especially with all this going on."

"Yeah," Dean and Seamus agreed simultaneously.

"I heard that…that Ron is, I guess, hooking up with members of the quidditch teams, in order for them to throw the matches." A lump of guilt formed in Harry's throat, and his face grew hot. "Someone overheard a conversation or something that Ron and Roger Davies had."

"I don't think Ron would do that," Seamus said firmly, "He might be a bit of a slag, but he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would do something like that. I've heard Davies can be controlling and kind of…manipulative, I guess…if whoever had overheard a conversation like that, they were probably just joking around."

Dean, however, looked a touch unconvinced. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again. "He slept with Diggory, didn't he?" Harry nodded. Dean frowned. "And then we won the match against Hufflepuff." He paused, then squinted in thought. "It's Malfoy who's captain of Slytherin, right?"

Harry had to pause for a moment. Malfoy was the captain. Could it be possible that he was saying all this because…

…because he knew firsthand?

No.

No. It was definitely not possible. Ron would never do anything like that with Malfoy. It wouldn't even work if Ron had tried to pull this deal with him. Malfoy would probably turn him away. Or…he would take the offer…and not throw the game at all.

"Yeah," Harry finally responded.

"We haven't played against Slytherin yet," Dean said quietly, "But…we won that match against Ravenclaw, and the one against Hufflepuff…"

"You're a good team," Seamus interjected, "You won those matches fair and square." He sounded somewhat frustrated. "Ron's not selling himself for a quidditch match. That's fucking stupid."

"Maybe…" Dean said, more quietly and slowly, like he was really trying to make them understand, "Maybe not for a match. Maybe it's just…for fun. For a thrill…"

"Dean," Seamus said, clearly exasperated, "Just because you think Ron is a whore doesn't mean he is."

"But he is," Dean shot back, "And he knows he is."

"He's not such a slag that he'd-"

"Okay, what are we talking about now?" Harry interrupted irritably, "We all know Ron sleeps around, so, Seamus, yeah I get it. But…Dean…" he sighed, trying to remain calm, "If you're saying he's doing it for the thrill that doesn't make much sense. Yeah he's sleeping with random guys, but there is the point that quidditch is involved. Like I said, the specific rumor is that he's doing this to win the matches."

"Right," Dean said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, "Sorry."

Seamus snorted. "It's not like you weren't ready to fuck him the other day," he muttered. "Don't call someone a whore if you're willing to sleep with them."

Fuck.

"The only reason I did that was for you!" Dean snapped, getting to his feet, and glaring at his boyfriend.

Alarms began ringing in Harry's ears. Ron couldn't do this. Not to Dean and Seamus. Yet…

What exactly did Ron do?

If Seamus was attracted to him, enough to the point that Dean had been willing to hook up with him just for Seamus's enjoyment…how was that Ron's fault?

"Dean, just calm down," Seamus said, irritated, as he got to his feet as well, "You wanted him just as bad, but you have to act all high and mighty about it all because I brought it up first."

"That's such bullshit," Dean spat back.

With an aggravated grunt, Harry walked over to his trunk, yanking out his invisibility cloak and map, and left the dorm. There was no reason he needed to stay and listen to his friends argue over Ron. Instead, Harry stopped on the stairs  -not the ninth, he'd skipped that step on the stairs since Ron had been hospitalized- and pulled out his map.

He wasn't entirely sure who he was looking for. Who he wanted to follow, he supposed. First he found Ron's name in the infirmary. He was alone now, with his siblings walking down various hallways. He saw Michael Corner in the library, and then Roger Davies in the Great Hall.

Then he saw Justin Finch-Fletchley…and Ernie Macmillan.

Justin was in the Entrance Hall, and Ernie was on the grounds in one of the greenhouses.

Clearly, they were planning to meet.

Once again, Harry found himself sprinting. He tucked his cloak under his arm, and the map in his pocket. He was in the Entrance Hall in less than two minutes. Justin was already out the front door. Harry made his way out them, and threw his cloak on before anyone could see.

As soon as he hit the grass, he could see Justin looking around furtively before entering Greenhouse 3. Thankfully, as Harry approached it, he noticed the side door to the greenhouse was propped open with a large pot homing a newly sprouted jellywart tree. It wasn't a large enough gap for him to step through, but he was able to see them as long as he stood right there.

Ernie looked exhausted. His eyes were rimmed red, he was pale; his curly, honey-blonde hair was mussed. When he saw Justin he let out a cry of relief, and they embraced. Justin put the back of his hand on Ernie's head, holding him into the crook of his neck. Justin's eyes were closed, and he looked as relieved as Ernie sounded.

Harry knew this had to be the first time they had seen each other since the incident.

"How are you holding up?" Justin asked him soothingly as they let go of each other. Justin held Ernie by the shoulders as he looked at him.

"I…" Ernie rubbed his face with his hands as he let out a derisive laugh, "I am a fucking wreck, Justin! I haven't been allowed to talk to or see anyone. I keep thinking about it over and over and over again!" His voice was tight and shaking. "I don't fucking sleep, I…"

Harry's hands were shaking as much as Ernie's voice. He was about to find out. He was going to get the truth straight from the source.

"Calm down, love," Justin murmured, running his hands up and down his boyfriends (ex-boyfriends?) upper arms, "Tell me what happened. From the moment you left the dorm."

Ernie exhaled shakily. "I went to Gryffindor, I asked one of Ron's friends to go get him. All I wanted to do was talk to him, Justin. I didn't want to hurt him at all! I just wanted to talk to someone, I couldn't talk to you, so…so I went to him."

"What did you want to talk to him about?" Justin asked calmly, "That you couldn't talk to me about?"

"I just…" Ernie swallowed, and jerked away from him, walking a few paces toward the propped open door. Harry held his breath. Ernie was looking right at him without knowing it. "I guess I needed to hear it from him, too. That…that it was just sex. That you didn't actually love him."

"Of course I don't love him, Ernie," Justin said, "It was just sex. He's…you know. He's Ron. He's gotten everyone he's ever wanted."

"That's what he said," Ernie replied quietly, turning back around, "Not that last part, but…it was implied, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Justin finally whispered, "I'm sorry I did that with him, Ernie. I wasn't thinking at all. You didn't deserve that."

"No," Ernie agreed, "I didn't. I would have never done that to you."

"I know," Justin said quickly, "And that's what I've been torturing myself with. I…I haven't been able to eat or sleep. I sort of cried, too…a lot. All I feel in my entire body and mind is guilt."

"Well," Ernie responded with a sigh, "You brought that on yourself."

"What else did you two say?" Justin finally asked, chancing a step toward him.

"He…apologized," Ernie answered, sounding surprised at the memory, "He apologized a lot. It just made me mad, I yelled at him, called him some pretty awful names. He…didn’t really argue back or anything. He just…stood there and took it. I wish he had argued with me or even yelled. But he looked miserable. Like, really, really upset about it."

"Really?" Justin asked, blinking, "That doesn't seem like him at all. I mean…he wasn't like that about Michael and Cho."

"Yeah," Ernie agreed, "I was surprised. But…then I said something, and it was like it flipped a switch in him or something. He didn't get angry, but he got…sort of scared, I guess."

"What did you say?" Justin inquired, his brows knitted, and forehead furrowed.

"I said he was destroying a lot of people, and that one day…" Ernie's voice hitched, and a quiet sobbing sound escaped his throat, "One day it would catch up to him."

"He got scared?" Justin asked, and now he sounded suspicious. "Why, Ernie? Were you…did you…"

"I didn't push him!" Ernie exclaimed desperately, "I didn't! We both moved toward each other and…" once again, he covered his face with his hands, letting out another sob. Justin did not move to comfort him. Finally, Ernie looked back up. "I swear to God, Justin…it wasn't me."

"Just tell me what happened," Justin replied, still calm but now a bit impatient. He took a long, deep breath.

"Justin…" Ernie whimpered, "He did it! Ron threw himself down the stairs on purpose. He did it to himself."