The Ron Ship Sank Before It Even Set Sail

In the end, Draco's long-planned confession never came to pass.

On Hogsmeade day, he had eagerly pulled a pile of gifts suitable for a young girl out of his trunk beneath his bed, only for Snape to commandeer him before he could take them out. He spent the whole day in the Potions Room, and by the time he emerged, Harry had already returned to her dormitory.

Draco was furious, but intimidated by Snape's authority, he could hardly say anything. He could only chalk it up to bad luck.

The fire crackled in the Gryffindor Common Room. Like two cats who had spotted a canary, Fred and George flanked Ron, trapping him between them.

"Latest intelligence," Fred said, pushing up a nonexistent pair of glasses with mock seriousness. "Young Malfoy was planning to confess to Harry during Hogsmeade week-"

"-and then failed miserably," George finished.

He produced a betting slip as if by magic. "The odds are currently twenty to one. Want to place a bet?"

Ron's ears twitched, but he tried to look indifferent. "Why would anyone bet on that? There's no way Harry would say yes to him."

He grabbed a biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth, crumbs clinging to the corners of his lips. "It's not like she hasn't got eyes."

The twins exchanged a glance.

Fred suddenly leaned in close enough for Ron to catch the sweetness of some kind of candy on him. "Then tell us... who should Harry like?"

"Someone from Gryffindor, of course!" Ron blurted without thinking, his fingers unconsciously picking at a loose thread on the sofa. "Someone she's close to, preferably, the sort she knows inside and out!"

George, who knew his younger brother well, chuckled. "Like... you?"

Me?

When Ron registered what George had said, his face instantly turned redder than his hair. "What?! No, no, no!"

He flailed his arms in a panic, knocking over the Wizard's Chess set on the table. "We're good friends! How could I... no, no, no, we know each other too well!"

"Really?" Fred suddenly looked toward the doorway, his eyes lighting up. "Oh! Harry, you're back!"

Ron froze as if he'd been hit with Petrificus Totalus, then whipped his head around.

Harry and Hermione had just stepped into the common room, dirt from Herbology still clinging to their long hair.

Harry tilted her head at them. "What do you mean, I'm back?"

"N-nothing!" Ron's voice sounded as though someone had stepped on it. "Don't mind what I just said!"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Mind what?"

She casually tossed her textbooks onto the table and beamed. "Aren't we already good mates?"

Ron managed a strained smile. His expression didn't completely collapse until Harry walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, humming. Fred and George looked at each other and reached out to pat their younger brother on the shoulders at the same time.

George's palm felt warm against his shoulder. "Twenty Galleons on 'Ronnie successfully confesses.' What do you say?"

Fred conjured a piece of parchment and began keeping the accounts. "Let's set the odds at... a hundred to one."

Ron buried his face in a cushion, letting out a muffled sound that was half protest, half whimper.

Compared with Ron's struggle, Harry was doing much better.

The curtains of the four-poster bed in the dormitory swayed gently in the night breeze as Harry hummed and flopped onto the bed. Hermione had returned to the room with her and sat on the edge of her bed, magically ironing the robes she would wear tomorrow. She looked up and saw the unmistakable smile on Harry's face.

"That happy?" Hermione asked casually, smoothing out a scorch mark with a Mending Charm.

"Everyone's been a little strange lately," Harry said, burying her face in her fluffy pillow. Her voice was muffled but buoyant. "But Ron's really so reliable! He's just so normal!"

Hermione's wand paused for a moment.

...Ah, well... even so... ah... um...

She silently crossed herself, picturing the way Ron's mouth had drooped in the common room that evening, and how he had gripped the sofa cover so tightly his knuckles turned white.

A subtle feeling of guilt welled up in her.

Sorry, Ron!

I know you really like Harry! But I really like her too! As our good friend, you'll definitely give us your blessing once Harry and I are together, right? You definitely will, right?

When Harry and I get married, I'll make sure to give you a big red envelope!

Hermione pressed her lips together, her wand unconsciously tracing half a heart in the air before she hurriedly dispelled it.

"Yeah," she said with a nod, agreeing with Harry. "Ron really is a good mate."

Moonlight shone through the windowpanes, casting diamond-shaped patches of light on the floor. After they had chatted for a while, Hermione heard the bed beside her go quiet. She looked up and found that Harry had already fallen asleep, hugging the plush Niffler Ginny had given her, a carefree smile still on her lips.

Darkness.

Thick, suffocating darkness enveloped Harry. She stood in a void and tried walking around, but whichever way she went, the darkness stretched as far as she could see.

"Harry Potter..."

The hoarse voice came from every direction. Mist coalesced into a snakelike face, pale as wax. The noseless face drew close to hers, its red eyes like two drops of congealed blood in the dark.

"I never would have thought," Voldemort said with a cold laugh that felt like a venomous snake slithering across the back of her neck, "that you would trade your looks for protection..."

Harry tried to retort, but found her throat gripped as though by an invisible hand. The darkness around her began to twist, and blurry images emerged.

Draco's silhouette holding a bouquet of roses, Sirius's overprotective gaze, and even the barely perceptible favoritism Snape showed when deducting points.

"How pathetic, a pitiful yet adorable girl. It seems I shouldn't have been afraid of you... you're just a child, nothing to fear." Voldemort's fingers brushed her cheek. "Soon, you'll become nourishment for my resurrection-"

Harry's eyes widened.

What on earth is this baldy talking about? Has he suffered some sort of brain injury, putting on videos like those of the creepy male voyeurs that seem peculiar to a certain green website? And saying lines like that?

Doesn't he find it embarrassing?

"Hiss!"

A sharp pain suddenly exploded in her wrist.

Harry's eyes flew open. Moonlight still spilled quietly over the bed curtains. She looked down to see the scales on her snake-shaped bracelet standing slightly on end, leaving tiny red marks on her skin.

"You were too loud in your sleep," Voldemort's voice sounded directly in her mind. "That's all. You disturbed me."

Harry stared at the bracelet. Her mind was still hazy, and she had forgotten most of the dream. All she remembered was that Voldemort seemed to have appeared in it.

It was probably the Voldemort of this world.

But Harry couldn't remember anything at all about what had happened in the dream.

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter." There was a hint of mockery in the Basilisk Voldemort's voice. "Who would be interested in your stupid dreams?"