Sunshine filtered in through the curtains of Ron Weasley’s room making him groan in resentment. It was too early to wake up, especially for a sixteen year old boy. He groggily sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, trying to rid them of tiredness. Harry was supposed to be arriving in three days time and, well, Hermione… was supposed to be there today. How could he forget? He jumped out of bed and rummaged through his small pile of clothes to find something to wear. Quickly, he put on a pair of tattered jeans and a red t-shirt.

Not very impressive but it’ll do, Ron thought. What am I doing? Trying to impress Hermione? She is just a friend…just a friend…

Trying to act casual, he walked downstairs into the kitchen where his mother was cracking eggs over a frying pan. From the end of the table Ginny greeted her older brother, “’Morning sleepyhead.”

He smiled at his little sister’s ritualistic morning greeting, but his eyes quickly then fell upon Hermione, who rose from her seat at the worn table to greet him.

“Hi, Ron.” She smiled up at him and gave him a friendly hug.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron said, trying keep his voice from cracking. Although it was only a few seconds, a shiver still managed to go down Ron’s spine as she hugged him. What’s wrong with me?

“Come sit down,” Molly said from the table.

Ron obeyed without question, due to the fact that he was completely intimidated by his own mother. The minute he sat down, a towering plate of food fell in front of him.

“Eat,” Molly commanded. “I swear if you get any taller your bones will start sticking out.”

“Mum,” Ron began. “You know for a fact that I can’t eat all of this.”

“Well share it with the twins when they arrive,” Molly sighed in deep disappointment.

The three ate in silence, being hungry and still sleepy all at once. Ginny finished first and said gruffly, “Where is Phlegm this morning Mum?”

“Don’t call her that, Ginny,” Molly said, trying to sound stern. Both siblings, however, saw the small smirk on her face when Ginny had said “Phlegm”.

Hermione looked at the three of them in confusion, “Did I miss something?”

Ginny nodded. “You know that girl Harry competed against in the Triwizard Tournament? Fleur Delacour?”

“Yes, but what does she have to do with anything?” Hermione asked.

“Well, Bill and her are engaged and she has been hanging around here lately because Bill’s been busy. I can’t stand her; she is a terrible headache. Hopefully Bill will come to his senses and realize she’s not for him. I call her Phlegm for short,” Ginny said grinning ear to ear. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the fact that Ron is head over heels in love with her!”

“Shut up, Ginny,” Ron said loudly as he crumpled a napkin in his hand and chucked it at her forcefully. She dodged it by running up the old staircase and into her bedroom.

“Really?” Hermione smirked at him.

“No!” Ron said exasperatedly. “She’s part Veela you know!”

“Sure,” she said unconvincingly, rising from her chair with a book in hand and walking outside.

Ron jammed the last bit of toast on his plate into his mouth. Why does she always have to open her big mouth? One of these days she’s gonna get it.

He put on his muddy sneakers and followed Hermione outside. It was not a typical summer day; in fact it felt more like a fall day than anything. The air was crisp and the sky was clear blue. Seeing Hermione disappear into the gardens Ron slipped his hands into his pockets and decided to follow her.

Just like the rest of the Weasley property, the gardens were not well taken care of. It wasn’t really a garden; it was more like an uncontainable jungle. After about five minutes of walking through the wild garden he found Hermione sitting on the ground in an open area.

“Mind if I join you?” Ron asked uncertainly, looking down at Hermione who seemed to be deeply engrossed in her book.

“No, of course not,” Hermione said, gazing up at her friend with a smile.

He sat down on the soft grass and asked, “So how has your summer been?”

“Nothing special,” Hermione began. “I read most of the time. You know, brushing up on my Defense of the Dark Arts spells and jinxes, just in case…What?” Ron was smiling at her.

“Can’t you take a break from school and studying for a day?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Of course I can,” Hermione replied indignantly.

It was Ron’s turn to say it. “Sure.”

“I can!” Hermione said, grinning as she punched him gently on the shoulder.

“Prove it,” Ron said in return.

“All right, what do you want to do that isn’t ‘schoolwork’?” Hermione asked.

“That would be up to you,” Ron answered.

“Fine,” she said, getting flushed in the face. “Let’s see, how about a game of chess?”

“You’re on,” Ron said. “I’ll go get the game.” And with that he took off to get his battered chess pieces back at the Burrow.

~~**~~

Why did I have to get all worked up about that? Hermione thought desperately. It’s only Ron…

She hastily lowered her brown eyes to the book she was reading. Striving to focus on the words and what they were trying to depict was nearly impossible. Her thoughts kept straying to Ron, of all people. This never happens with Harry…

Hermione could hear him returning through the underbrush and tried to put on a straight face. They had known each other for six years and he would know if there was something bothering her.

“I’m back and so ready to beat you,” Ron said gleefully as he placed the box on the grassy carpet.

Hermione, rolling her eyes, took out the white pieces. “Well, if you are going to beat me, and I know you will, I am at least going to go first.”

“Fine with me,” Ron said as he set up his black pieces.

“The queen goes on this side, right?” she asked.

“Nope, this side,” Ron made a gesture to the right. He had set up all of his pieces and realized Hermione had one left to place, a knight. Reaching for it he touched Hermione’s hand. He swiftly looked down at the white knight and found that her hand was on top of his. Instinctively Ron pulled his hand away and said, “Sorry.”

Hermione let out a small sigh. “For what?”

“Nothing,” Ron muttered. “Ready to start?”

“The question is Ron, are you ready to start?” Hermione said, trying to sound intimidating.

Ron shook his head. “It isn’t working, Hermione.”

“I thought I would give it a try,” Hermione said, smiling and ordering the pawn in front of her king two spaces forward.

Time passed and both friends played the intense game of chess and rarely spoke to each other. Why did he have to pull his hand away? Hermione thought as she watched him thinking about his next move.

“Checkmate,” said Ron victoriously, grinning as he looked at Hermione.

“I suppose you want to play again?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

“Only if you want to,” Ron said politely. “Just a warning though, you are going to get beat again.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “But I like playing chess with you.” Ron fell silent and began setting up his pieces.

The sky gradually began to get dark as the sun sunk deeper into the horizon. “We should probably get back,” Ron suggested. “Mum will have a fit if we are out here for much longer.”

“Good idea,” Hermione agreed. Ever since she had said that she enjoyed playing chess with him, Ron had become increasingly quiet. “It is so beautiful out here,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Is it different from where you live?”

“Oh yes,” Hermione said with a laugh. “We live near London. It is so busy and noisy and not to mention bright. You can’t see the stars or hear crickets in the fields. You’re really lucky to live here.”

They reached the Burrow’s entrance and they both unintentionally tried to squeeze through the door at the same time. They were very close together; Hermione could feel the heat of Ron’s body course through her. She looked up at him and found he was looking down at her.

This isn’t right, Hermione thought frantically. She swiftly turned to go inside the Burrow, leaving Ron in the doorway still holding the chess game.

Hermione ran hurriedly up the stairs, not daring to look back at Ron, and into Ginny’s bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She leaned on the wooden door, closed her eyes, and sighed deeply.





“Been with Ron, have you?”





Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Ginny was lying on her bed propped up on her elbows looking at her with twinkling brown eyes. “Yes. Yes, I have. We played chess in the gardens,” she said huffily.





“Oh really?” Ginny said as her eyes widened.





“What?” Hermione said defensively.





“Nothing,” said Ginny airily, her eyes falling back on the Daily Prophet in front of her.





Hermione could see the small smile at the corner of her lips. She sat on the springy trundle bed opposite that of Ginny and said yet again, “What?”





“What, what?” Ginny repeated stubbornly.





“What was the smile for?” Hermione asked, her voice rising.





Hermione watched Ginny shake her head and smile a little, definitely acting as if she thought there was something wrong with both her and Ron. “If you were with Ron all day, and correct me if I am wrong, but you are friends, right?” Hermione nodded her head, agreeing wholeheartedly. “If you were with Ron all day, then why are you so nervous and look so stressed out?”





“I was beat a lot at chess today, okay? You know me, I am not used to being beat,” Hermione said.





“That’s not it,” Ginny replied, grinning yet again.





“Yes it is!” Hermione said angrily.





“Come off it, Hermione,” Ginny began. “You two have had feelings for each other ever since third year and maybe even before that. You can’t honestly say that you don’t have any feelings whatsoever for my brother.”





Hermione was silent.





“Yup, I knew it,” Ginny said quietly while nodding her head in confirmation. “Not that it was obvious, of course.”





Hermione laid back on the fluffy feather pillows in deep thought. It isn’t that simple. It has never been that simple. Never. How am I supposed to face him after what I just did? We would have kissed if I hadn’t chickened out…





“Time for dinner!” Molly yelled from the kitchen.





Oh no, oh no, oh no…





Ginny tugged on Hermione’s arm. “Come on, you’ll be fine.”





“No, I won’t,” Hermione moaned in desperation. “I can’t face him after what we just did! It’s too…well…weird.”





“What did you do that was so horrible?” Ginny asked.





“We almost kissed,” Hermione started as she watched Ginny’s eyes enlarge as she continued. “If I wouldn’t have been so stupid to run inside he would have kissed me.”





“Why can’t you two just be normal?” said Ginny. “Come on, you can’t hide up here forever.”





Hermione reluctantly followed Ginny downstairs and sat next to her at the table. She didn’t dare look up for fear of making eye contact with Ron. Once everyone (Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Molly, Fred, George, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Bill, and Fleur) was seated, eating began.





“Hermione, could you pass the potatoes?” a voice said from across the table.





She had no choice now. Looking up she saw that Ron was sitting directly in front of her. He looked at her questioningly.





Why didn’t I kiss him?





George looked at both of them and grinned. “Hey Hermione! Do you mind passing the potatoes?”





George’s loud voice tore her away from Ron’s gaze. She looked over at George and saw him smirking at her. “Well?”





“Here,” Hermione said as she passed the bowl containing the potatoes to the gleeful twin.





She ate her meal quickly, politely excused herself, and rushed to the door. Outside she found the solitude that she desperately needed. Hermione sat on the old, creaky deck, her feet dangling a few inches from the ground. She looked up at the stars and watched as one shot across the black canvas.





Why did this have to be so complicated? I like him and I think he likes me. Is it even worth it? Is he ever going to see that I feel for him? Does he know that right now? Is he just as afraid as I am?





The door leading outside opened, shining a bright ray of light into the inky darkness of the night. It was Tonks.





Hermione turned around quickly. “Don’t worry,” Tonks said, realizing that she had startled Hermione. “I was just coming out here to join you.”





Hermione looked at Tonks, taking in every feature of her young face. She knew that Tonks was young, but she no longer looked it. Her face was drawn and thin, her once bubblegum pink hair was now a mousy brown, and there were deep creases in her face that had not been there before.





“So why are you out here then?” Tonks asked Hermione tiredly.





“Just needed to find somewhere quiet to think,” Hermione admitted truthfully. She wanted to avoid the subject of Ron at all cost. “Can I ask you the same question?”





Tonks smiled revealing small wrinkles near the corners of her eyes, “What if I gave you the same answer?”





Hermione smiled back and then sighed for what had to be the hundredth time that day. “Thinking about someone?” Tonks said.





“How did you know?” Hermione said.





“Because we’re both sitting out here looking for solitude, and I know that I am thinking about someone so I just figured you were too,” said Tonks, looking older than ever.





“You guessed right,” Hermione replied. “Who are you thinking about?”





“Can’t tell you that,” Tonks said. “First of all, because this person doesn’t return my feelings, and second, I don’t think this person wants anyone else to know.”





The crisp night wind ruffled both women’s hair as the stars twinkled above them. “How about you? Why are you out here when your friends are inside?”





Hermione struggled to bring herself to say it, “Yes, they are in there, but… well…”





“It’s Ron, isn’t it?”





Hermione turned to look at the Auror, “How does everyone know about this?”





“It is very obvious and well…I was sixteen once too, Hermione,” Tonks said. “So why are you sitting out here?”





“I can’t bring myself to face him. I don’t know if I should tell him how I feel or not.” She trailed off.





Tonks smiled understandingly. “Just do it, Hermione. He probably feels the same way. Someone has got to get it out in the open.”





“But if for some reason it doesn’t work I still want to be friends with him. When we had a row in third year I couldn’t take it. It was like a piece of me was gone and if it were ever to happen again I just…”





“I have seen you three. I don’t think that anything would tear you apart for very long. You, Ron, and Harry are too close for something like this to ruin the friendship you have with them,” Tonks reassured her.





Hermione was silent for a long while until she made her decision, “Thanks, Tonks.”





“No problem, Hermione,” Tonks said.





Hermione turned to go inside the Burrow. She had to tell him, there was nothing for it. As she opened the door she took a deep breath. Hermione saw Ron at the kitchen sink wiping dishes as they were magically cleaning and rinsing. He looked up to see her standing stock still in the doorway gazing at him. Just tell him… tell him now…





“Hey, Hermione,” Ron broke the uncomfortable silence.





“Hi,” she said breathlessly as she grabbed a towel to help him.





Another gap of silence followed their greeting.





“What happened tonight-” Ron began.





Hermione nervously finished it for him, “-Was nothing.”





“Right,” Ron said his face falling in disappointment.





Why did I have to say that? I like him and I want him to like me back and all I can say is that I don’t want anything to come of what happened tonight? Why, oh why did I have to open my mouth? Why didn’t I just let him finish what he was going to say? Maybe it was for the best though, what if I were to lose him as a friend?





Hermione’s fear got the best of her. She put down the orange striped towel with shaking hands and slowly made it up to Ginny’s room.

To Ron’s surprise Harry had arrived early that morning with Dumbledore. Unwilling to keep it from his friends any longer, Harry had decided to tell both him and Hermione about the prophecy. It was uncomfortable seeing Hermione after the short conversation they had had over a day ago, but both instinctively knew that they had to put their “relationship” aside in order to focus on Harry.

Neither can live while the other survives...

Ron replayed what Harry had told him about the prophecy over and over again. This thing with Hermione can’t get in the way of what really matters right now, Harry. She seems to have put it behind her and I guess I have to, too.

Harry entered Ron’s room and collapsed onto the bed next to him. “So how have things been without me? Let’s see, what’s the word I’m looking for… relaxing? Stress free?” Harry grinned at his redheaded friend.

How can he be so carefree? Voldemort wants to kill him and all he can think about is how I have been all summer? “Well, you know…” Ron trailed off.

“How about Hermione?” Harry asked, looking intently at Ron.

“What about Hermione?” he said nervously.

“I mean, have you talked to her to at all since she’s been here?” Harry reiterated.

“Well, yes…”

“Come on Ron! Did you tell her how you feel?” he said incredulously.

“Well I didn’t actually tell her how I felt but we ended up in this awkward position and almost kissed. She talked to me afterwards but I don’t think she wants to take it any further than a friendship,” Ron informed him.

“Are you sure she said that?”

“I was standing right there! Do you think I was hearing things?” he said irately.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Harry said. “But I know she likes you.”

“Well it doesn’t matter. Hermione and I aren’t the priority anymore and we never were,” Ron said, looking firmly at Harry.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked uneasily. Ron knew that Harry knew where this was going and probably didn’t particularly care for it.

“It’s better that I tell you this rather than have Hermione do it, she’d get too emotional.” Ron smiled at the thought of her but quickly shoved her out of his mind. “You, Harry. You’re the priority.”

Ron saw the look of anger on his best friend’s face and swiftly said, “I know that you don’t want to hear me out, but please just listen to me.”

Harry did not look at Ron, but nodded his head, saying nothing.

“I for one am not going to let you do this alone and I know Hermione feels the same way,” Ron explained, still trying to catch Harry’s eye. “We both know that you love to play the hero, and you don’t want to put us in harm’s way, but we aren’t going to stand around feeling helpless. We are your friends Harry and we want to help.”

There was a gap of silence between the two friends until Harry whispered, “I can’t wait until all of this is over.”

Ron smiled weakly, mostly because he was relieved that Harry wasn’t about to tear his head off. “Me neither. You want to go see if Ginny and Hermione want to play a game of Quidditch?”

“Are you sure you want to invite Hermione? She’s terrible.” Harry grinned.

“But that’s the whole fun of it,” Ron said, as if teasing Hermione was a science. “It’s something she can’t beat us at no matter how hard she tries.”

Harry and Ron walked out of the room talking animatedly about Quidditch and went to find Hermione and Ginny.

* * * * *

“I think that’s the best you’ve ever played, Hermione,” Ginny said breathlessly as the four of them walked back to the Burrow for dinner.

“I still played horribly,” Hermione admitted. Ron smirked at her. They caught each other’s glances for a moment, and then swiftly looked away.

Is our friendship ever going to be the same? I am not going to be able to take these uncomfortable silences, Ron thought desperately.

They walked outside onto the porch, each carrying a plate piled with food. “She assumes that we can all eat this,” Ron said exasperatedly. “I’m not a hog.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Hermione teased.

Ron flung a bit of potato at her with his fork. “Do you really want to get into this?”

Hermione slowly wiped the potato off of her cheek and licked it off her finger, “You can’t beat me at everything over summer break. So how about I beat you at a game of wits?”

“You’re still going to lose,” Ron said.

“Hey, Harry, why don’t we go inside,” Ginny firmly grabbed his hand forcing him up. Ginny came to the quick conclusion that she and Harry should stay out of the competition that was soon to take place between Ron and Hermione. “I have to get rid of my plate.”

Harry nodded stupidly, unable to find any words that were appropriate to say at that moment.

Wanting to get Ron back, Hermione loaded her spoon with a glob of sticky mashed potatoes and lobbed it at Ron. It splattered all over his face, “You’re dead Hermione!”

Hermione grinned as she sprinted across the lawn away from Ron.

“Come on, Ron! You’re letting her outrun you?” Harry shouted from the doorway.

“Shut up Harry,” Ron yelled over his shoulder. He was gaining on Hermione with every long stride he took. As he was just about to catch up to Hermione, she tripped and toppled onto the grass, causing Ron to stumble. Hermione winced as she watched him descend toward her. Much to Hermione’s appreciation, Ron put his hands out to support his fall so that he wouldn’t land directly on her chest.

Ron could feel the heat from her body course through him as he looked into her deep brown eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to tear away.

I have never felt this way about anyone before, and I didn’t think it was going to be Hermione.

All of a sudden something clicked into gear and he realized that he was on top of Hermione. Literally on top of her.

He blushed furiously and hoisted himself up. “I’m so sorry Hermione, I didn’t mean to… well…” Ron leaned down to grab her hand. Hermione stood on her feet and Ron realized that her cheeks were even redder than his.

“Thanks,” Hermione said softly as she quickly let go of his hand. She turned to walk away but Ron put a hand on her shoulder, making her turn around to face him.

“Hermione, we need to talk,” Ron said earnestly. He had to tell her.

“Talk about what?” Hermione asked apprehensively, her voice higher than usual.

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron said in exasperation. “About this. About us.”

“What about us?” Hermione said unnervingly.

“Well, I…” Ron stuttered, unable to find the right words.

“Well what, Ron?” she asked. Ron was a little taken aback. She sounded annoyed with him.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, embarrassment mounting on him.

“Well if you don’t know, then I don’t see the point of talking about us. After all, we are just friends right?” she said, her voice rising as she spoke.

Ron stood looking at his feet for inspiration. He wanted to tell her how he felt, he really did. “I suppose,” he mumbled sullenly.

Hermione let out a small laugh. Her brown eyes seemed to penetrate him, searching desperately for what he really wanted to say. Hermione spun around, her bushy hair swishing behind her as she walked to the Burrow.

“What was that for?” Ron shouted after her angrily.

She stopped and turned around briefly to face him, “Why did I even bother? I knew you weren’t going to actually… never mind.”

“How can I even talk to you when you won’t open up?” he said, advancing toward her.

“You want me to open up? Me to open up? Ron, if anyone is a closed book it’s you; so don’t you dare tell me to open up,” Hermione hissed.

“You shut me down the first time,” Ron said irately. “Admit it! You were the one to say what happened after playing chess was nothing, not me.”

“That was different,” Hermione said. “I was afraid, but I’m not anymore.”

“How was that different from what is happening now?” Ron said, focusing on what Hermione’s first sentence had been rather than her last.

“It isn’t. I just wanted…” she broke off abruptly. “You’re trying to pin all of this on me and it isn’t only my fault. I don’t even want to be having this conversation. If you can’t see what is standing right in front of you, I am certainly not going to point it out for you.”

“You act as if all of this is my fault. How is it my fault? All I wanted to do is have a civil conversation with you,” Ron let out a fake laugh. “But I should’ve known, you can’t have a two-sided conversation with Hermione Granger.”

Hermione looked at him stunned. Tears began to well up behind her eyes as she managed to choke, “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…” she acted as if she couldn’t take it any longer. For the last time Hermione turned and walked slowly to the Burrow, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks.

Ron sat down heavily on the grass and sighed deeply. What did I do to deserve this? All I wanted to do was tell her how I felt. Why does it have to be so difficult? Why does she have to be so difficult? He heard the Burrow door slam. I probably just lost any chance I had at being with her. The one person I ever thought was worth being with.

*~*

Hermione quietly crept up the stairs, not wanting to talk to anyone. She went to the attic and climbed through the small trapdoor that led to the roof of the Burrow. Ron had taken her up there a few summers back.

I don’t want to think about Ron. I can hold a civil conversation; it’s him that can’t. Why do I even bother if that’s the way he treats me?

Because I love him.

Hermione shut her eyes as if she didn’t want to admit to the truth. Why can’t he just come out and say it? I love him; I know he feels the same way. Why does this have to be so hard?

She watched as Ron got up and turned to go back into the Burrow. He began to walk towards his home but immediately stopped. Hermione knew that Ron must have felt the uncomfortable sensation of someone watching him in the shadows. He looked up onto the roof and she knew immediately that he had seen her, but she didn’t care.

Hermione climbed down into the attic, walked into Ginny’s room, and crawled into her trundle bed. From her bed she had a perfect view of the window and the stars in the inky black sky. They twinkled happily, making anger rise up in her chest. She threw a pillow at the window in disgust.

If what he wants is to be just friends, that’s fine. I’m not waiting anymore. With that final thought, Hermione’s eyes slowly shut, allowing her to fall into a deep sleep.

~*~

Ron walked into the Burrow, noting that whatever was going on in the living room had to be fun due to all the noise coming from it. Just as Hermione did, he crept silently up the stairs trying to avoid attention. He rounded the corner leading to both Ginny’s room and his room. On the left was Ginny’s door and a little further down the hall on the right was his door. He quietly placed his hand on the doorknob leading into Ginny’s room hoping to find Hermione. Peeking his head into the room he found that the lights were out. The dim light in the hall shone upon Hermione’s sleeping face. Why didn’t I tell her?

Ron quietly shut the door, to prevent Hermione from waking up and inflicting her wrath upon him. He then made his way into his room and collapsed on his bed heaving a great sigh. Just as he was beginning to shut his eyes the door to his room opened and someone came in. Ron groaned. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, not even Harry.

“Ron?” Harry said uncertainly to the darkness of the room.

Ron remained silent.

“I know you’re awake, I just saw you come in,” Harry said.

Ron rolled over to face Harry who was sitting on the bed opposite him. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Come on, Ron,” Harry pleaded, with a grin on his face. “What happened?” The look on Ron’s face seemed to tell Harry that he wasn’t going to talk. Then it dawned on him, “You two had a row, didn’t you?”

Ron put a pillow over his head. He didn’t want to see the light of day ever again. He felt as though someone had ripped his heart out and was pounding on it with an oversized mallet.

“Why can’t you two just act normal?” Harry said exasperatedly.

“I don’t know!” Ron said, his voice muffled underneath the feather pillow.

Harry reached over to grab the pillow. “So what are you going to do now?”

“She’s not going to speak to me ever again,” Ron said miserably. “This was my one shot with Hermione and I blew it.”

His face suddenly became flushed, “But it wasn’t just my fault, it was hers too! She was acting all annoyed and flustered, as though I was a complete idiot who didn’t know right from left. She was the one who blew me off first. It isn’t my fault at all.”

“Are you going to talk to her?” Harry said, confused at his friends’ sudden change of mood.

“No! It wasn’t my fault. If she wants to start a relationship she needs to come to me. I am not going to go begging to her again,” Ron said finally.

“I can’t believe you two,” Harry said as he got between the sheets and rolled over to go to sleep.

Ron lay on his back thinking of Hermione. But it wasn’t really all her fault…