Ron sat at the kitchen table for at least an hour, waiting for Hermione to arrive. He had tried playing Wizard’s Chess against the other pieces, tried to sleep, and, shockingly even to him, tried to read, but in the end he knew that everything in the entire house was boring and there was nothing to do but wait for her. He was restless. Throughout the day Ginny teased him, saying how cute it was that he was so unhappy without Hermione around.

She’s just mad because I pushed her into that puddle of mud in the pigpen yesterday.

It was just a coincidence that Ron looked out the window just as Hermione was approaching the Burrow, dragging her bags. He grinned, jumping up from the chair and running to the door, opening it before she could even knock. She was surprised, obviously, but smiled, and dropping her bags she came inside the house and threw her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her and let her hair fall over his face. She smelled of apples.

“I know school has only been over for a few weeks, but I’ve missed you!” she said after they let go, making his stomach flip.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Ron replied, picking up her bags.

“I think your hair’s grown a bit,” Hermione said, observing him.

“Er, I guess,” Ron replied, screwing up his face to try and see his hair. Hermione laughed.

“Where’s Harry?”

Of course, she wants to know where Harry is- she’s always concerned about him. She probably doesn’t think about me at all.

“Still at his uncle’s house,” Ron said rather curtly as they made their way more into the house.

“Hermione!”

Ginny came bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen. “How’re you?” she asked Hermione, hugging her.

“I’m fine, you?”

“Good.”

Hermione looked around the kitchen area as Ron pulled her luggage to the stairs with great effort.

“What did you pack in here- cauldrons?” Ron asked sarcastically.

"Just two," Hermione replied, pulling a face at Ron, who returned it. But when he turned around again he grinned broadly.

“So where is everybody?” She asked, sitting at the table with Ginny. Ron sat down across from them.

“Dad’s at work, obviously, and mum’s out shopping,” Ginny informed her.

Ron was just about to tell Hermione that Fred and George were in their room, but there was no need. There was a sharp crack as the twins Apparated into the kitchen and grinned broadly at Hermione.

“I see you’ve both got your licenses, then?” she observed.

George nodded. “Yep, it was-”

“-really easy,” Fred finished. It was very creepy how they could finish eachother’s sentences like that.

All of a sudden, a beautiful red and gold bird flew in through the open window, making everyone jump. But as Ron looked at it more closely, he realized that it wasn’t just any bird, but Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes. He recognized it from his second year.

Fawkes landed gracefully in the center of the table and dropped a square letter on the wood. He looked around at everyone, almost smiling, and vanished with a crack.

“That was weird,” Ginny commented as Ron picked up the letter and tore it open.

“Ron! How do you know that letter’s addressed to you?” Hermione said indignantly, but Ron read it aloud anyway:

“Shift to headquarters immediately. Have informed Arthur.”

There was a moment of silence in which everybody else expected Ron to read more, but it didn’t happen.

“That’s all?” Fred asked disappointedly.

“That’s all,” Ron said.

Fred frowned. “What does ‘shift to headquarters’ mean?”

Everyone else shrugged.

There was another sharp crack as Mrs. Weasley Apparated into the kitchen with about five bags, fully packed, in her hands. She looked tired and slightly harassed. She let out a sharp sigh, set down the bags, and greeted everybody.

“Oh, Hermione, it’s so nice to see you! How have you been?” she said, giving Hermione a hug. “Are you hungry? You look like you haven’t eaten anything.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Hermione replied.

They followed Mrs. Weasley into the den, where she fell into an old armchair. She waved her wand and a squashy footstool appeared beneath her stretched out legs.

Ron handed the letter to Mrs. Weasley.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Weasley asked, opening the note. She suddenly turned very pale as her eyes skimmed the parchment over and over.

“What is it?” Ginny asked, suddenly looking alarmed.

Mrs. Weasley stood up abruptly from the chair and looked around at them all. “Start packing,” she said simply.

“What?”

“Start packing,” Mrs. Weasley repeated and walked hastily back into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, following her.

Mrs. Weasley stopped in her tracks. She turned around and looked Ron straight in the eyes. “We have to go. Everything will be explained when we get there, I promise. Don’t ask any more questions, just pack up and be back down here when you’re done.”

Ron followed his mother to the stairs, and when she was halfway up, said, “What do I pack?”

“Whatever you usually pack for Hogwarts, we won’t be coming back here this summer.”

With that Mrs. Weasley started back up the stairs with Ron staring after her with his mouth open. He ran back to the others, but Hermione and Ginny were the only ones left; Fred and George had Disapparated to their bedroom.

“She says that we won’t be coming back here this summer,” Ron told Ginny and Hermione.

“Well, that’s no problem for me, seeing as how I’m already packed,” Hermione said, clearly feeling awkward.

“Then you can come upstairs and help me,” Ginny said, and both girls went upstairs to Ginny’s bedroom. Ron followed them but departed and went into his own bedroom. Just before he closed his door, he looked back and watched Hermione going down the hall and into his sister’s bedroom.

Before he took out his trunk, he flung himself on his bed and stared at his Chudley Canons poster on the other side of his tiny room, thinking,

What’s going on? What could mum possibly not be telling us? I wonder if Harry knows about this…

An hour later everyone but Mrs. Weasley was back in the kitchen with all of their belongings, ready to leave to wherever they were going.

“Are we Flooing there?” Ginny asked Mrs. Weasley as she scrambled down the stairs with two suitcases, looking flustered.

“Yes, dear.”

“Where are we going?” Fred inquired as Mrs. Weasley went over to the front of their fireplace. She took out the pot of Floo Powder.

“Number twelve, Grimmauld Place,” she said, looking around at their curious faces. “Since you asked, you can go first,” she told Fred.

Fred shrugged and walked into the fireplace with his suitcase. Taking a pinch of Floo Powder from the pot that Mrs. Weasley held out to him, he looked straight ahead and recited clearly what he had just heard. In a flash of green flames, he was gone. George and Ginny did the same thing. Ron noticed that Hermione, who had been rather quiet, even for her, had gone wide-eyed.

“Er, mum?” Ron said quickly as Mrs. Weasley held out the pot to Hermione, who looked at it questioningly.

“Yes, dear?”

“Hermione’s never traveled by Floo Powder before,” Ron informed her, and Mrs. Weasley let her arms down.

“I know what it is and how it’s used,” Hermione said quickly, “I’ve just never done it before…”

Ron looked between Hermione and Mrs. Weasley and seized his chance. “Here, I’ll help you, it’s really easy,” he said, putting his trunk down and taking Hermione’s hand gently. He lead her to the fireplace helped her inside. He positioned her, although he knew that there was no need, but he couldn’t help wanting to touch her.

“Stand just like that.”

Ron brought Hermione her trunk and pushed it next to her in the fireplace. He then took the pot of Floo Powder from his mum, who he did not notice was smirking slightly, and held it out to Hermione.

“Just take a little bit- do what they did. And make sure you speak clearly,” Ron commanded, “or you could wind up in a completely different fireplace.”

And I couldn’t deal with it if I lost you…

Hermione looked horrified, but took a pinch of the powder bravely. “All right, well, here goes nothing… Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!” she shouted and threw the powder down. The green flames soon swallowed her up and Ron’s stomach lurched with a sense of loss as he himself climbed inside the fireplace with his trunk.

He looked over to Mrs. Weasley, who was smiling.

“What?” Ron snapped. “Can’t I help a friend?”

Mrs. Weasley shrugged, still smiling, and took the pot from him after he had taken the pinch of powder. “See you in a minute,” she told him and stepped back.

Ron’s stomach was full of butterflies. Had he really been that obvious? He didn’t even know if Hermione was safe, or where she was.

I guess I’ll find out in a second.

Ron clutched the handle on his trunk, shouted, “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!” and he was instantly spinning in a room of green fire.

Ron’s head was spinning even more than usual when he traveled by Floo Powder as he stumbled out of the dusty fireplace and into a furniture-deprived room. He shook his head, looked around, and was relieved to find that Hermione had arrived safely, although looking slightly green and sitting on her suitcase with her chin resting on her hand. She raised her eyebrows at him when she saw him, but then dropped them back down, as if even doing that would make her feel more sick.

Along with Hermione were Ginny, Fred, George, Lupin, and-

“Sirius!” Ron exclaimed, grinning. Sirius grinned back at him. Ron walked over to him and shook his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I have every right to be here, seeing as this is my house,” Sirius said, smiling.

Mrs. Weasley walked out of the fireplace next and straight up to Sirius and Lupin.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing at the moment,” Lupin told her. He looked older and wearier than they had seen him just a year ago.

“But Dumbledore wants all the Order members to be in close contact. He thought it best that you stay here for the rest of the holiday,” Sirius said. He too looked older, although his hair was a bit more tamed now.

“I absolutely agree,” Mrs. Weasley said. She looked from Sirius to Lupin and nodded.

“Why don’t we go downstairs and have something to eat? Then you can get yourselves settled in,” Lupin said.

Sirius led the way out the door and down the hallway.

“Is this a mansion, Sirius?” Fred asked, looking around in awe at the high ceilings and fancy doorknobs.

“Not much of one… it was my parent’s house. It needs a bit of cleaning up, though.”

Ron could see why as a spider scuttled up its web and behind a portrait. He moved away uncomfortably- he hated spiders.

They trudged along, dragging their suitcases against the carpeted floor. Ron decided to stop by his bedroom now instead of taking his trunk all the way back up the stairs. Hermione and Ginny, who also weren’t allowed to do magic outside of school, followed his lead.

“We’re fine, we’ll be down as soon as we’re done,” Hermione told Mrs. Weasley, who was worried that they wouldn’t be able to find their way to the dining room in the huge house.

Hermione and Ginny had already chosen their room a few minutes later, and Ron was too impatient to wait for them to come back out.

He dragged his suitcase along opened another door, revealing a cold and gloomy room with a high ceiling and twin beds. It was the best he could do. Ron pulled his trunk inside and set it next to the bed on the left. He pulled off his shoes, kicked them over to the wall, and fell back onto his bed, which felt like it was going to fall apart and was quite unappealing due to the moth-eaten sheets. Hoping he would never hit his head on the vicious looking metal headboard that was just an inch from him, he let out a deep sigh and glared up at the ceiling.

“Ron?” a small voice called quietly from the door. He held his head up and realized that Hermione was standing right in his doorway. Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

Ron grinned at her and sat up. She came in the room and looked around.

“Nice room,” Hermione said, grinning back at him. “Ours looks exactly the same.”

Ron shrugged. “No surprise. Where’s Ginny?”

“She went downstairs already.”

“Oh,” Ron said absentmindedly, looking around his new room more. There was a blank portrait hanging by the door on the other side of the room, although it sounded like someone was breathing from the other end.

“Ron,” Hermione said again, sitting down beside Ron on the bed. Ron turned to her and realized that she wasn’t very far from his face. A series of possibilities as to why Hermione would do this were now rushing through Ron’s brain.

“Yeah?” He gazed deeply into Hermione’s eyes. He resisted the urge to lean into her more.

“Could I talk to you about Harry?”

Oh.

Ron dropped his gaze from Hermione and got up from the bed and went to the door. He suddenly turned very irritable.

“What?” Hermione said suddenly, getting up and following him. She touched Ron’s shoulder and he felt sparks all along his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just have a stiff back,” Ron lied as he moved his arm away from her. He turned around to face her, his hand falling off the doorknob. “What about him?”

Hermione paused, her eyebrows raised, then said, “Do you think he’ll be mad when he finds out that we’re together without him?”

Ron paused also; thankful he was actually alone in a room with her. He knew it was selfish of himself to be rude to her when she just wanted to talk about Harry, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, turning around again and exiting the room. Hermione walked behind him.

“You know his temper, Ron, he’ll take it all the wrong way,” she said.

“Yeah I know his temper but he’ll just have to deal with it, won’t he?” Ron snapped.

They started to go down the stairs.

“I mean, he’s barely heard from us all summer, right? I can just imagine him yelling at us…”

Ron didn’t answer her. He had continued to walk down the stairs, fuming, until his foot reached the basement floor. He saw the doors open to the dining room and heard people talking.

“Don’t you think so, Ron?” he heard Hermione ask behind him.

Ron stopped, his knuckles turning white as he held tightly onto the railing.

“Ron!”

Ron whipped around and found himself level with Hermione, their faces just two inches apart. He gazed into her eyes and wished he could have kissed her instead of being angry.

You have the most beautiful chocolate eyes…

“What, Ron?” Hermione said heatedly, although she was a bit surprised.

“If you’re so worried about Harry being mad at us, then you can be the one to go and comfort him!” Ron snarled, turning around again and leaving Hermione to stand on the stairs, her mouth hanging open.

Hermione walked into the kitchen a minute after Ron, whose face was still red, and took the only seat opposite him.

“Okay, they’re here,” George said, looking eagerly at his mum.

“Now tell us what this Order thing is,” Fred demanded.

Lupin let out a sigh and looked around at Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, both of who nodded. He put his fork down from his plate of goulash and started.

“Basically,” Lupin said, “the Order of the Phoenix-”

But the kitchen doors banged open suddenly and Dumbledore strode into the room, wearing crimson robes with gold stars decorating it. His silver beard flowed magnificently as he walked to the table, smiling at everyone.

“My deepest apologies,” Dumbledore said quietly, sitting down, as Mrs. Weasley got up to get him some food. “No, no, Molly, I just had a big lunch, that’s why I’m late,” he smiled. Mrs. Weasley sat back down.

Dumbledore looked around at Sirius and Lupin. “I suppose you were just telling them about the Order?”

“Yes, yes we were,” Lupin stammered, taken by surprise, along with Sirius.

“Ah,” Dumbledore breathed, looking around at the curious younger faces. He smiled gently at them all, like a grandfather would to his grandchildren.

“Well, in short, the Order of the Phoenix is a secret society against Lord Voldemort,” he said quietly as everybody around the table except Sirius and Lupin winced.

“Who are the members?” Ron asked, forgetting his anger at Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley was the one to answer this question. “Dumbledore, of course, your father and I, Bill, Charlie, Sirius, Remus, and many more that you will be meeting soon.”

“What about us?” Fred piped.

“Yes, we want to be part of this as well!” George chimed in, slamming his goblet down on the table.

“You will not,” Mrs. Weasley snarled through thin lips. “You are much too young!”

“We’re adults!” Fred objected.

“We can if we want!” George said.

“Absolutely not! You still have a year of school ahead of you!”

“So? We can help by-”

“No is my final answer! We’ll see what your father has to say about this when he comes tonight!”

The twins grew into an angry silence at this statement and Ron thought it safe to continue questioning.

“So what do you do?”

Dumbledore spoke up again. “Generally we try to decipher what Voldemort's”- once again, everybody but Sirius and Lupin winced- “next move is.”

“What do you know so far?” Hermione asked.

“Well,” Lupin answered, “We think that he is trying to round up the dementors. To get them on his side. It’s only a matter of time before he gets all of them and all his Death Eaters break out of Azkaban.”

Hermione and Ginny gasped, while Fred, George, and Ron’s eyes grew wide.

“That’s terrible!” Ginny exclaimed, the rest nodding.

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” Mrs. Weasley commented.

A small silence drew over the kitchen until Ron looked at Dumbledore again.

“Does Harry know about this?”

He looked at Hermione, who was suddenly glaring at him, and he didn’t know why until he remembered that he told her that he didn’t want to talk about Harry, and there he was asking questions about him. He felt a sudden pit in the bottom of his stomach that grew with every second she glared at him.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

“But I must warn you five,” he said in a low, serious voice, looking at each of them individually before speaking, his gaze lingering longest on Ron and Hermione. “You must swear to me that you will not tell him anything about the Order, where you are, or what is going on, not only in here, but outside. However much you want to, you must not write to Harry and say anything until he arrives.”

“Why?” Ginny asked.

“Just in case the post gets intercepted. You may, of course, send him mail, but absolutely not containing anything more than a few lines. You can not divulge any information of Headquarters or what is happening. Do you understand?”

Hermione and Ron looked questioningly at each other, and Ron savored the fact that she wasn’t glowering at him any more. George, Fred, and Ginny were nodding already.

Ron and Hermione were in the spotlight.

“It’ll be hard,” Dumbledore said gently, “but it’s something you must do.”

Ron looked at Hermione but she had chosen to ignore him. Hurt, Ron nodded and Hermione did, too.

*

Ron went to bed that night after a full meal of chicken stir-fry; his thoughts still on Hermione. She had actually said goodnight to him before walking into her room with Ginny and gave him a half smile, which he returned, feeling boiling pleasure in his heart.

He opened his trunk, dressed into his pajamas, and climbed into bed.

What a stressful day. At least Hermione isn’t mad anymore. But she’s right, Harry’s going to be livid when he finds out that we’re here together without him.

But Ron, whose eyes were now closed, couldn’t help but feel happy, though guilty, that even though he thought Harry had everything, Ron had finally received the better end of the deal. Plus, he would be able to spend as much time with Hermione as he wanted, even if it meant Ginny tagging along.

Ron thought more into it as he drifted off, and before he knew it, he was having a very strange dream in which Harry was having a raging fit, like a childish tantrum, kicking and screaming on the kitchen floor, and Fred and George were off in the corner of the kitchen selling tickets to random members of the Order to watch the show. Hermione was the only sane person in the house besides himself, and as she approached him among the chaos he got ready to kiss her. He was just two inches from her lips when all of a sudden she turned into Snape and bellowed, “One hundred points from Gryfinndor!”

Ron’s eyes shot open in the dark.

That was definitely one of the worst nightmares I’ve ever had. I’ll never be able to look at Snape in the same way again.

Ron put his face in his hands, still lying down, when he suddenly heard a loud thump by the other bed, making his eyes go wide in his hands. He had much experience with random thumps in the darkness from the ghoul in the attic above his bedroom at the Burrow, but he hadn’t thought that there was anything living in his room now.

Almost frozen with fear, he slowly pulled his hands off his face, and even more slowly, turned his face to the source of the noise, but was relieved to have found nothing. He expected it was just Pig thrashing around, but the minute owl was fast asleep, hooting quietly.

Shrugging it off, and knowing he wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway since the entire room was black except for a thin patch of moonlight coming through the window and onto the floor, he rolled over onto his side.

What Ron didn’t expect was to see the outline of a short figure peering at him with big, wide eyes.

“AAARGH!!!”

Ron jumped and was immediately sorry for doing that as his head hit the metal headboard behind him with such force that he saw sparkling white dots in his eyes.

He was rubbing his eyes when he heard footsteps coming up to his door.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione said quickly, her night gown and robe flowing as she opened the door and put on the light. She looked with squinting eyes around at Ron, who was staring down at the thing that scared him with an appalled look on his face, and then looked at it herself.

“Oh!” she shrieked, but then regretting it completely, she realized what it was.

The leathery, big-eared, ugly creature was Sirius’ house-elf. He had wide, cruel eyes, and was now looking between Ron and Hermione with disgust.

“H-hello,” Hermione said kindly, first rubbing her eyes out of sleepiness then walking over to the elf, which backed away.

“Kreacher is not used to this Mudblood… who does she think she is, walking up to Kreacher like she knows him…” he mumbled to himself, glaring at Hermione, who stopped dead in her tracks.

“Watch what you’re saying!” Ron snarled at the elf, jumping out of his bed and nearly knocking the elf over. He was still rubbing his head and he knew that there would be a huge lump on it by the next morning.

“Ron! It’s okay!” Hermione said indignantly, grabbing his arm and stopping him from doing any damage to Kreacher.

“What Kreacher’s dear mistress would say if she could see what scum was brought into the house…” the elf muttered menacingly to himself.

“Out!” Ron shouted, threatening to kick Kreacher out of his room by raising his leg. Kreacher eyed him reproachfully, but said nothing as he edged out of the room through the doorway and into the dark hallway.

“Ron!” Hermione snapped at him as he looked at her.

“He insulted you! What was I supposed to do?”

“Sirius was telling me about him at dinner tonight, he said that he wasn’t right in the head!”

“Like any normal house-elf would just go around and start calling people that? I don’t think so!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to go and raise your foot and all that!”

“You’re just defending him because you’re still caught up in that stupid spew thing!”

“For your information, Ronald, it’s S.P.E.W. and NO I’m not defending him because of that, I’m defending him because he doesn’t know what he’s saying!”

There was a second in which they glared at eachother fiercely, then Ron went up very close to her and opened his mouth.

“Hermione, I am never going to let anybody hurt you and let them get away with it, you should know that by now!” Ron whispered sharply before he even had time to register what he was going to say. He didn’t even realize what he said until he said it, and by that time Hermione had gone quite red.

“I know,” she said quietly, making Ron’s ears even more crimson than they just got.

There was now an uneasy silence between them.

“Er, I’m just going back to, um, bed,” Hermione stammered, pointing to the door. She almost stumbled over Ron’s suitcase but caught herself before she did. She came back up looking even redder.

Ron had not seemed to notice.

“Yeah- yeah, goodnight,” he said, still frozen with embarrassment.

Hermione left the room without another word, and Ron, turning the light off and climbing into bed again five minutes later, never thought he had ever felt so stupid in all his life.

It had been two weeks since they had arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Ron was getting more and more anxious whenever he was around Hermione. He knew that he had to tell her how he really felt or he would explode. Every time he even looked at her he felt heat rising up in his stomach and found himself taking a deep breath. He found it even hard to talk to her since there was still that embarrassed tension between them.

And it hurt him that she still wanted to discuss Harry.

“I want to talk to you about him,” she demanded after closing his bedroom door behind her and causing Ron to jump up from his bed, where he was reading a book all about the Chudley Canons.

“And just who might this be?” he asked her sweetly, knowing fully well who she was talking about.

“Harry.”

Grrrrrrrr!

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ron said rudely, getting up from the bed and walking over to his owl, Pig. He picked up the scrawny owl from the desk and started stroking his feathers, though rather roughly, as a way to distract Hermione from Harry. It didn’t work.

“Ron! Harry’s our best friend! Don’t you feel sorry for him at all? He has no idea what’s going on- he’s going to be positively furious with us when he comes here!”

Harry could not possibly be as furious as Ron was right then. He placed Pig back on the desk and slowly turned around to face Hermione yet again, who had her arms crossed and her eyebrows in a tight frown.

“Look,” he snarled quietly, glaring right into her delicate face. “I-am-not-in-the-mood-to-talk-with-you-about-Harry-all-right?”

“Are you ever?”

“No!”

“He’s our friend and I’m worried about him!”

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, walking to the other side of the room for no apparent reason and throwing his arms up as he did it. “I don’t want to talk about this!”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Hermione!”

“What is it, Ron?” Hermione snapped, coming close to his face. “Why do you always get angry when I want to talk about Harry?” She looked straight into his eyes with fury and it cut into his heart like a knife.

BECAUSE I LOVE YOU AND I HATE IT THAT HE’S ALWAYS ON YOUR MIND!

Obviously, Ron could not tell her this, so he just settled with yelling.

“IT’S NOT SOMETHING I WANT TO DISCUSS WITH YOU, OKAY?!”

Hermione shrank away from him, obviously hurt. Ron could see tears forming in her eyes and his heart tore into pieces. Why was he always the one making her cry? Why?

She tried to turn away to the door but Ron caught her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, gently pulling her towards him and making her look at him in the eyes. She had a teardrop clinging to her cheek. Ron wiped it off with his finger. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

Hermione didn’t do anything, but didn’t try to leave anymore. She had this look in her eyes, though, like she expected something from Ron.

She wants me to hold her.

He took a step towards her and was surprised to find that she didn’t move away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his midsection and continued to cry into his chest.

Ron stood there with her for a while, just holding her, knowing that he could do this forever.

“Ron?”

Hermione looked up as she was buried in his chest. She gazed into his eyes, and Ron could tell that from her tear-filled eyes that she was expecting something even more from him than just a hug.

And he would be the one to fulfill her wish.

Their faces moved steadily closer to each other’s, and Ron wanted nothing more than to touch her wet, pouty lips. He was a little afraid that she might actually turn into Snape, but as he saw her close her eyes when he was just an inch from her, he knew that wouldn’t happen.

He could actually feel her warm breath on his chin-

With no warning and at the worst timing imaginable, the bedroom door flew wide open to reveal Sirius, who looked quite happy with himself. “Dinner is re- oh!”

He froze on the spot as Ron and Hermione jumped out of each other’s arms like cats who were sprinkled with water, and stood five feet apart, each looking awkwardly at the floor.

Sirius’ frozen expression turned into a very annoying smirk as he surveyed the two of them.

“I knew it,” he said quietly as he backed out the door and closed it, leaving the two in the bedroom by themselves again.

The moment was ruined and Ron could not help but feel bitter resentment toward Sirius right then.

Hermione said nothing, but looked straight at the ground as she exited the room. Ron didn’t try to stop her.

*

Another week had passed and several Order members had made their appearances. Ron had met the real Alastor Moody, who was just as paranoid as the impostor; Nymphadora Tonks, who was an extremely bubbly but clumsy Metamorpghmagus who liked to be called only by her surname; a tall black wizard named Kingsley Shacklebolt, and several others.

Ron still had not confronted Hermione about what happened in his bedroom. Every time they caught each other’s eye she turned away immediately, turning red. And to top it all off, Ron had to worry about the look Sirius wore whenever he saw the two of them in the same room together. Thankfully, he hadn’t told anybody, or at least Ron thought he hadn’t.

That evening, around six o’clock, while all of them, including Moody, Tonks, and Shacklebolt, were eating dinner and Ron and Hermione were turning red everytime they looked at eachother (and Sirius was smirking again), Mr. Weasley Apparated into the kitchen, looking extremely pale and scared.

Sirius smiled at him and pulled out a chair. “Arthur! Finally, come have some… what is it?” he asked, now worried. The entire table grew quiet.

“Harry has just been attacked by dementors,” Arthur said.

A loud gasp emitted from every person at the table and Sirius immediately stood up.

Mr. Weasley spoke again. “Calm down. Dumbledore has just come to the Ministry and he’s trying to sort everything out. I already wrote to Harry, he should be getting the owl now.”

“What did you say?” Mrs. Weasley asked quickly.

“To not leave the house, do any more magic, or surrender his wand.”

“What do you mean ‘surrender his wand’?” Hermione sputtered, looking equally pale.

“Well he would have used the Patronus Charm, wouldn’t he?” Lupin answered. “He’s still underage. So of course he’s in trouble with the Ministry.”

“But,” Hermione said as usual, “even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations!”

“The ministry won’t see that- they’ve been trying to get Harry for ages. They’ll just twist it into some sort of plot about how he was trying to show off,” Lupin answered.

“Not only that, but he was with his Muggle-cousin,” Mr. Weasley said quietly. “Mafalda Hopkirk just sent him his expulsion letter. They’re coming for his wand now and Dumbledore’s afraid that he might try to run. Sirius,” he said, looking at him, “he expects Harry will listen to you, so-”

“I’ll send him an owl right away,” Sirius said abruptly and ran out of the kitchen.

“And I have to go back to the Ministry. I’ll keep you informed.” Mr. Weasley Disapparated back to the Ministry.

Everybody else continued to sit at the table and look at each other in horrified ways. Hermione was gazing at Ron as if she was about to cry, but she could not distract him now.

What if Harry never comes to Hogwarts again? What’s going to happen?

He put his head down on the table and closed his eyes. He wasn’t much in the mood for dinner anymore.

Only five minutes had passed when Mr. Weasley Apparated once again into the kitchen.

“Mafalda just sent Harry another owl. He’s not getting his wand taken away-”

“Thank goodness!” Sirius, who had just come back from delivering the message, exclaimed, letting out a big sigh.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Mr. Weasley said, and Sirius immediately looked alarmed again. “He’s not getting his wand taken away yet. They will leave that for a hearing in August.”

“That’s not so bad, then, right? He can come and stay here for the hearing!” Ron said, putting his head up again.

“It’s not that easy. There will have to be a few of us to go and get him from his uncle’s house.”

“I'll do it! I'll help!” Tonks volunteered happily, putting her hand up in the air.

“I'll come, too… my eye will be useful,” Moody growled.

“As will I,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt gallantly.

“Well,” Mr. Weasley sighed, “we’ll need more than just three people to get Harry.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur, I'll be happy to help in any way I can,” Lupin said.

“I’m coming, too!” Sirius said defiantly.

“Dumbledore already said no, Sirius. It’s too much of a risk,” Mr. Weasley said as if he expected this.

“Wha- Harry is my godson!”

“It’s a no, Sirius,” Lupin said quietly.

At the look on his friend’s face, Sirius sat back down grudgingly and scowled at the table.

“We’ll have to get more people, but we can do that later,” Mr. Weasley said. “Most important is-”

Hedwig, Harry’s owl, flew into the kitchen with a loud screech, interrupting Mr. Weasley. She landed on the table, but not before dropping letters into Ron’s, Hermione’s and Sirius’s laps. They ripped open Harry’s letters while everyone else went quiet.

“He says, ‘I’ve just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what’s going on and when I’m going to get out of here,’” Sirius read, looking grave.

“It says that on mine too,” Hermione said, frowning at the parchment.

“Same here,” Ron said.

Everybody looked at Mr. Weasley.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his eyebrows, “I guess the sooner he gets here… the better.”

Ron cringed.

’The sooner he gets here… the better…’ Ha. The sooner he gets here means the less time I'll have with Hermione is more like it.

Ron turned over in his bed. It had been three whole nights since Harry got attacked by dementors, and his father’s words kept playing over and over in his head. He knew that whatever he had to say to Hermione he had better say it quick. This was his final chance. It was planned that Harry would be coming the next day.

Ron tried getting back to sleep, but instead his eyes fell upon the bed that Harry would be sleeping in. In twenty four hour’s time, it would be occupied by his best friend. Ron groaned quietly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Harry’s company; he just wanted time alone with Hermione. He knew that he wouldn’t get any with Harry there.

He turned over again. It was the middle of the night and he couldn’t sleep. His stomach churned nervously as he thought, once again, how and when he would tell Hermione his feelings.

Should he just corner her while going down to lunch? Or ask her to come inside his room? Should he do it while everyone was watching?

No, THAT would be the dumbest thing I could ever do.

He’d just bring her into a private place where nobody would interrupt them, and he would have to do it that day, too. He didn’t think he could bear to wait any longer.

But what if… what if she doesn’t feel the same way about me? I'd be making a total fool of myself for nothing!

Ron grumbled into his pillow.

“I could never talk to her again,” he whispered to himself. Somewhere in the dark, his owl, Pig, hooted in its sleep.

Ron knew that he should sleep, too, for he had a big day to look forward to. It was time he told Hermione how he felt… she deserved it.

*

It was already five o’clock in the evening, the next day, and Ron STILL had not told Hermione. Every time he saw her he cringed with butterflies, but he just could not get the words out.

The Advance Guard, Harry’s retrieval committee, had left long ago, and Ron knew he did not have too much time left.

He and Hermione were in his bedroom playing a game of Wizard’s Chess on Ron’s bed, and Ron was beating her brilliantly.

But it wasn’t that he was winning that made him feel good, it was that she was actually alone with him.

“I think the Queen is the best piece,” Hermione noted, picking hers up and examining it.

“What? You’re mental!”

“Why?”

“Because the knight is most obviously the best piece!” Ron retorted.

“First of all, ‘most obviously’ isn’t proper English.”

Ron grinned. He loved it when she did that.

“And second,” Hermione continued, “how? That thing can only move in a L shape. The queen can move in any direction she wants for as much as she wants.”

“She might be more valuable, yes, but there’s only one of her and a knight has a better chance of knocking out another player anyway.”

“At least you think so,” Hermione said.

“Yes I do.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Silence followed as they continued the game and Ron was soon once again lost in his thoughts.

Just do it! Please just say how you feel! Please, there’s not much time left. You’ll never know how she feels unless you tell her how you feel!

“Is that my checkmate, Ron?” he heard Hermione’s voice from somewhere in the distance.

Tell her how you feel!

“Ron?”

Just hurry up please!

“Ron…”

GO!

“Hermione,” Ron said quickly, surprising himself. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked deep into her chocolate eyes.

This caught her attention.

“Yeah?”

He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. “I…I need to tell you something-”

“Yeah?” She looked at him as if she expected something, and leaned in closer to him across the chessboard.

Ron leaned in as well. They were now just a few inches apart. “I’ve been holding this in for a long time.”

“What is it?”

They were now just one inch apart.

“I...” He couldn't think.

Hermione smiled and slowly reached over to his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Ron looked down and grinned. He knew he could say it now.

He looked back into her eyes. "Hermione... I lo-"

But Ron never finished. He never got to tell Hermione how he felt.

A board outside the room had squeaked, and the doorknob turned. Ron knew who it was.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion from that point on.

His stomach squelched with sadness as he watched Hermione spring back up, forgetting him and looking eagerly at the door.

Ron’s heart tore in half as he watched Hermione’s expression change from dreamy to ecstatic. He continued to gaze into her eyes, and he knew that his time was up. There was no point anymore.

He faked a grin and she beamed back at him, also knowing who was on the other side of that door.

Sure enough, when the door opened, there stood Harry, bags and all.

Before Harry could even barely step into the room, Hermione squealed with delight. “HARRY! Ron, he’s here. Harry’s here!”

Without any warning, Hermione leapt off the bed, making the chess pieces scatter, ran to Harry, and threw herself on him in a gut wrenching hug. Even Pig started to fly around the room in excited circles, and Hedwig started to hop up and down on her ledge.

Ron watched silently and listened as Hermione started to tell Harry everything that they had been holding in during the entire summer, still hugging him. His heart raged with jealousy.

He gets everything… everything. Why couldn’t I have just had this moment? I was so close… Just ten seconds more…

The room seemed more cold and gloomy than ever. Just before Ron got off the bed to greet his best friend and calm Hermione down, he looked back one more time at the abandoned chess game.

Only Hermione’s Queen was left standing… next to his fallen Knight.

It was already five o’clock in the evening, the next day, and Ron STILL had not told Hermione. Every time he saw her he cringed with butterflies, but he just could not get the words out.

The Advance Guard, Harry’s retrieval committee, had left long ago, and Ron knew he did not have too much time left.

He and Hermione were in his bedroom playing a game of Wizard’s Chess on Ron’s bed, and Ron was beating her brilliantly.

But it wasn’t that he was winning that made him feel good, it was that she was actually alone with him.

“I think the Queen is the best piece,” Hermione noted, picking hers up and examining it.

“What? You’re mental!”

“Why?”

“Because the knight is most obviously the best piece!” Ron retorted.

“First of all, ‘most obviously’ isn’t proper English.”

Ron grinned. He loved it when she did that.

“And second, “Hermione continued, “how? That thing can only move in an L shape. The queen can move in any direction she wants for as much as she wants.”

“She might be more valuable, yes, but there’s only one of her and a knight has a better chance of knocking out another player anyway.”

“At least you think so,” Hermione said.

“Yes I do.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Silence followed as they continued the game and Ron was soon once again lost in his thoughts.

Just do it! Please just say how you feel! Please, there’s not much time left. You’ll never know how she feels unless you tell her how you feel!

“Is that my checkmate, Ron?” he heard Hermione’s voice from somewhere in the distance.

Tell her how you feel!

“Ron?”

Just hurry up please!

“Ron…”

GO!

“Hermione,” Ron said quickly, surprising himself. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked deep into her chocolate eyes.

This caught her attention.

“Yeah?”

He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. “I…I need to tell you something-”

“Yeah?” She looked at him as if she expected something, and leaned in closer to him across the chessboard.

Ron leaned in as well. They were now just a few inches apart. “I’ve been holding this in for a long time.”

“What is it?”

They were now just one inch apart.

“I- I-”

“What is it, Ron?” Hermione reached out her hand and slid it into Ron’s.

Ron spat it out. “Hermione, I love you."

At first, Hermione seemed frozen, but then she started to blink. A lot.

Oh, Merlin, what is she thinking? She got a blank look in her eyes, what does that mean?

“I love you, too,” Hermione said suddenly.

Ron blinked. “What?”

“I-love-you-too.” She laughed.

“Are you joking?” Ron asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Hermione grinned. “Of course not!”

“Prove it then.”

“All right.”

Hermione closed the gap between them and kissed him on the lips, taking Ron by surprise.

FINALLY!

They slowly broke away from eachother.

Hermione grinned broadly. “I’ve been waiting for that for such a long time.”

Ron looked down at their hands, which were still holding on to each other’s. “So does this mean that you’re my girlfriend now?”

“If you really want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then I’m your girlfriend.”

“Thank goodness.” Ron leaned in again, but Hermione held him back.

“What about Harry?” she said.

“What about him?”

“Well, do you think we should tell him about us or not?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Ron asked, perplexed.

“Ron, think about it. He just saw You-know-who again, saw Cedric die, and almost got . Do you think he really wants to focus on us now?”

“But he wouldn’t be focusing on us. This is our relationship, he doesn’t have to do anything for it.”

“I know, but I think what he needs right now is just the both of us; his friends. If he knew what we were doing, he might feel like the third wheel or something.”

She’s right…

“I guess so,” Ron said.

Suddenly, a board outside the room squeaked and they both knew who was there. They shared one last, quick kiss before the door opened to reveal Harry, bags and all.

Hermione ran over to Harry and smothered him in a tight hug, making Ron only slightly jealous. She then started talking about everything that happened and how sorry she was that they weren’t able to tell him anything about Grimmauld Place.

Ron smiled, but not because Harry was there. It was because he had achieved his goal of telling Hermione of his feelings, and getting her feelings back in return, all before Harry arrived.

I did it.

Ron’s happy ending turned out not to be an ending at all, but a happy beginning.