The Gryffindor common room was quiet late that evening. Most of the students had already gone to bed, leaving Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sitting near the fireplace. Ron had been watching Harry for a while before finally deciding to speak. Ron: “Hey, Harry.” Harry: “Yeah?” Ron: “Why do you keep doing that?” Harry: “What do you mean, Ron?” Ron: “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Harry: “Haha, no, I don't.” Ron: “Harry, why do you keep pretending you don't love Dracaena? Why do you keep acting like you don't accept her love?” Harry's smile remained on his face, but something changed in his eyes. The warmth of the fireplace suddenly seemed insufficient to fill the silence between them. Harry: “Haha, nice joke, mate. What are you talking about? She's our friend.” Ron: “Harry, please. She keeps coming to see you. She worries about you, looks for you, and cares about you more than almost anyone else. You think I haven't noticed?” Harry said nothing. Ron: “You know she loves you. And don't tell me you haven't noticed how you look at her when you think nobody's watching.” Harry: “Ron...” Ron: “Then why? Why do you keep pushing her away?” Harry lowered his head, staring at his hands. Harry: “Because it's better this way. Trust me.” Ron: “Better for who?” Harry: “For her.” Ron: “Harry, that doesn't make any sense.” Harry: “If I accept her love, Ron, what happens if I lose her? What happens if something happens to me? She'll be hurt. And if she ever leaves me, I'll have to watch her walk away knowing I could have done something differently.” He paused, his voice growing quieter. Harry: “I don't want to see her get hurt. I don't want to see her cry because of me. And I don't want to look at her one day and realize that loving me was the worst mistake she ever made.” Ron: “Harry...” Harry: “She's already been through enough. She deserves someone who can give her a future, not someone who keeps getting dragged into dangerous situations and nearly dying every year.” Ron: “You idiot. You really think rejecting her is going to stop her from getting hurt? Do you think it doesn't hurt her already?” Harry flinched slightly. For a moment, Ron thought his friend might finally say something honest. That Harry might admit he was afraid, that he loved her too, and that he simply didn't know how to handle it. Instead, Harry stood up. Harry: “Well, look at the time. It's time to sleep.” Ron: “But, Harry, I'm not finished!” Harry: “Good night, Ron.” Harry walked away before Ron could say another word, disappearing up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Ron remained by the fireplace, staring at the empty seat. Ron: “Bloody hell, Harry. You're not protecting her from heartbreak. You're breaking her heart yourself.” But Harry was already gone. And upstairs, alone in his bed, Harry pulled the covers over himself and stared into the darkness, knowing Ron was right. That was the worst part.