“Hermione! It’s so good to see you, dear.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, beaming, as she entered Grimmauld Place. She preceded on to give the woman a hug, hauling her suitcase inside.

Ron yelled from the other room something indistinguishable.

“What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Weasley yelled loudly. Hermione winced from the force of her voice, but she still smiled as the woman looked back at her.

“Who is it?” he yelled walking into the room, looking down at his hand.

“Hermione is. Now, Ron, help her take her stuff up to her room.”

Ron looked taken aback for a moment. Hermione . . . was here already? He hadn’t expected her so soon.

“All right.” He took her bags and threw them over his shoulder, giving her a look to follow him, and they headed up the stairs to hers and Ginny’s room. They were silent as they trudged up the steps. They knew that there was a long summer ahead.

Ron threw her bags on the bed, turning around to face her.

“You hungry?” he asked her, looking around the room as if it were a new thing. He had just cleaned the entire thing from top to bottom earlier that morning.

“No. I ate something before I left. My mum gave me some sugar-free snacks to eat along the way as well.” She gave him a warm smile, showing her white teeth. He nearly melted. “Dentists, you know.”

“Oh, yeah.” They stood there in silence, Hermione having her hands behind her back and slowly rocking back and forth, and Ron examining some dirt under his fingernails. Neither knew why there was quiet all around them. But both had been thinking over the past few weeks quite a bit about the other.

~ * ~

“This is it.” A creaky door swung open, revealing a room filled with cobwebs, dirt, grime, and a sneaky creature that ducked behind a curtain filled with holes. The three surveyed the room before stepping stealthily in. It looked as if the floor was going to crumble at the slightest touch, and they didn’t want to be the ones to go through the floorboards.

“Ugh . . . Everything in here looks dead . . .” Harry said, disgusted.

“Yeah, too bad Kreacher isn’t in here,” Ron snickered, flashing Harry a grin.

“Be nice, Ronald! Kreacher can’t help it that his master died and left him a mansion to take care of!”

Harry rolled his eyes to Ron, hoping that Hermione wasn’t going to go on another one of her “SPEW” rants about how house elves should be saved and freed . . .

“If you’re nice to him, then perhaps he’ll be nice to you,” she told them curtly, giving them an annoyed look.

“Perhaps,” Ron mumbled, taking another step. He swiped at something in his face that he recognised as spider. After ducking and trying his best not yelp, Ron managed to get it off of his cheek.

“I forgot my wand. I’ll be right back,” Harry said, ducking a cobweb to get out of the room. He shut the door and Hermione heard the door click quietly into place as it closed.

Ron stood there silently as he stared at Hermione.

She had turned around, looking up at the ceiling as if she were in a trance. The dust had collected in some of the oddest places, and a curtain hung across the broken window. Everything seemed to be broken or dusty; at least one of the two. Nothing else was apparent.

“Hermione, I think I’m going to go and check on Harry. We can’t start without him.”

Hermione looked his way and nodded, indicating that she had heard him. She stepped over a wrecked chair to allow him place in front of the door.

Ron walked over to the wooden frame, and then grabbed the handle, pushing on it.

It didn’t budge.

Come on, open, he told the door inwardly. He grabbed the knob between his sweaty fingers again and banged his shoulder into it.

It still didn’t move.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered to himself.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“The door won’t open,” he told her.

“Let me try.” She sauntered over to him awkwardly, grabbing the handle and pushing on it.

“Told you,” Ron muttered as she stepped back, admitting defeat.

“This is just great,” Hermione said to no one in particular.

They stood, once again, engulfed in silence, thinking. Harry would be back in just a moment.

~ * ~

It had now been well over twenty minutes, and the two could think of nothing to do. After the first three trapped in the room, Ron had resorted to banging on the walls and door with his fists, hoping someone would hear him. It had amounted to nothing, though, because not even Harry had come back. Perhaps he had forgotten about them.

“So . . .” Ron started, hoping to make light conversation. “Did you have a good year?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, “Of course. You?” She tucked a loose strand of curly hair behind her ear and looked at him.

“ ‘Course. Always do. Just, you know, the whole Voldemort returning thing wasn’t really how I planned on ending it.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah, I know.”

They sat in the quietness again, either wishing that the other would say something new.

This was Hermione, Ron thought to himself. We’ve been friends for forever, and now we can’t think of anything to say to each other? But Ron knew exactly what he could say to her.

Why aren’t Ron and I speaking on normal terms anymore? It seems as if he’s embarrassed to be around me. Fear jolted her heart. Was it her breath? She realised it wasn’t after checking it. Was it her hair? She felt the back of her bushy head and knew that it was the same as always: bushy and clean. She was quite surprised that nothing had fallen into it by then. A spider had already fallen into Ron’s lap, making him yelp and run across the room.

She laughed at the memory from a few moments ago when it had happened. But Ron interrupted her thoughts.

“Why’d you go with him?” It wasn’t more of a question than it was a demand to know something.

“What are you talking about, Ronald?” He had finally aroused her attention.

“Him. Vicky.” He said the last work with utter disgust. He had literally spat it out.

“Are you talking about the Yule Ball? Come on, Ron, I just-”

“Please. Just tell me.”

“Ron, I really like Viktor.” She emphasised his right name, compared to Ron’s little nickname he had given him.

“Of course, you do. Who couldn’t? He’s an international Quidditch player; all the girls are just dying to be you, Hermione . . .”

“Ron, please don’t. I am just friends with Viktor, and nothing else.”

Ron shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Sure you are,” he muttered, just loud enough to where Hermione could hear.

“Ron! I don’t like Viktor that way! Besides, why would you care?”

Ron shrugged his shoulders, not speaking a word. He looked down at the ground.

Hermione got up from the broken excuse for a chair and went to Ron.

“Ron . . . is there something you want to tell me?” she asked. Those words sent chills down Ron’s spine.

Yes.

“No,” he told her softly, shrugging again. He looked down at the ground. If he looked at her, then he would be forced to tell her the truth.

Hermione stared into his eyes for a moment. She knew he was lying; he wouldn’t look her straight in the face.

“Hermione . . .”

His voice was so small and minuscule. He knew that what he was about to say held great meaning.

“Yes?” she asked. They bore into each other’s eyes for a moment before the boy spoke.

~ * ~

“Hermione! Ron? Are you two in there?”

Ron pulled away from Hermione and looked at the door.

“Ginny?” he asked softly, dodging dust and grime to listen closer.

“Mum sent me up here to check up on you two. Open the door!”

“We can’t. We’ve been trying to get out, but it’s been no use,” Hermione told her.

Ginny said some odd incantation quickly and the door blasted open. Ron protected Hermione from the impact of even more dust and dirt flying around. She sneezed.

“There,” Ginny said thoughtfully, rubbing her two hands together. “How long have you two been up here? You haven’t gotten anything done.”

“Harry left about an hour ago to get his wand-”

“Harry left on with Mum to go to Diagon Alley about an hour ago . . .” She grinned.

“I’ll kill him,” Ron said teasingly.

“Well, come on out. If you haven’t gotten anything done now, you’re not going to. Mum’s almost got supper ready, Ron. You’ll have to finish up tomorrow.”

Ron looked at Hermione caringly and helped her step over the chair and out the door. Ginny backed away, letting the two past.

She could have sworn she saw them walk away, their fingers intertwined.