"New click?" Harry said, holding up his hands. "We all are only friends."
                              
"You're friends with the Slytherins? Even the gay one?"
                              
"Yes..." Harry started awkwardly, but then lowered his voice, dangerously. "Do you have something against gay guys?"
                              
Ron snapped. "No."
                              
"Then why did you say that?"
                              
"Zabini is... forward... notorious... and you said..." Ron rambled.
                              
"I'm not sleeping with him," Harry pointed out.
                              
"Well, fine... but...."
                              
"But what? Are you like the other purebloods? Do you think being a homosexual is wrong?"
                              
"No! I don't think that!" Ron said, indignantly, throwing his hands to his side.
                              
"Really? It didn't sound like it," Harry said, disappointment lingering in his eyes.
                              
"Merlin's balls... calm down. I didn't mean it like that. Zabini... you've seen how dark his hexes are?"
                              
"Do you even know what Dean and the others have done to Dra-Malfoy?"
                              
"They aren't using their wands."
                              
"Why does that matter? They've been breaking his bones and tying him to statues, how is that not worse?"
                              
"He's using dark magic," Ron muttered, turning his lip in disgust.
                              
"No, he's not. You've hexed people before. He's using the same curses we use."
                              
"Phh... you being friends with one Slytherin was bad enough. You're really friends with all four of them, aren't you?"
                              
"I am," Harry proclaimed. His words challenging his relationship with Ron in every way.
                              
"They're Slytherins, Harry," Ron shook his head. "They're the enemy house... how can you just...."
                              
"Damn it! Let it go! We don't have enemies anymore! You're fucking eighteen, Ron! Grow up!" Harry said and turned on his heel. He marched up to his dorm.
                              
Ron swore under his breath and Hermione grabbed his hand. Ron lowered his head and huffed, "I just don't get it. Why? How? It doesn't make any sense."
                              
Hermione rolled her eyes at his thick-headedness. "He's been through a lot. He's tired of fighting... he's tired of pointless bickering. And he knows that Draco... and the other Slytherins are just teenagers, like us. Why hang on to the hate, Ron?"
                              
"But they're so... hex-happy and cocky little shits. They're the same as they always been. They didn't learn anything from losing the war. They just went right back to where they were before."
                              
Hermione sighed. She felt like she was picking up the conversation where Harry had left it. "They aren't in the same spot. They learned how to survive. Ron, you do remember that Draco's friends came back with Slughorn to fight against Voldemort?"
                              
Ron still flinched. "That's not... there's no way. They're Slytherins, Hermione! They plot and connive and lie! You really think that they came in at the eleventh hour and declared that they were on our side the whole time?"
                              
"You're being a little prejudiced, Ron, though they are pretty good at plotting. But Voldemort is gone, now."
                              
"And them... the ones that called me a blood-traitor, get off scot-free? They lost the war and still retain their power?"
                              
"Did you not here them testify? Theo lost his father and Daphne her sister."
                              
"Zabini's mom has killed eight husbands!"