The Hogwarts Express drove through sheets of rainwater—a blur in the flooding land.

Harry looked out the foggy window, wondering how it was possible that only hours ago the sky was bright and cheery, but was now dark and stormy.

He thought, I guess we’re not the only ones sad about Dumble... but quickly pushed away that notion. He did not want to break down in front of his friends like Cho had done to him.

Ron and Neville were playing Exploding Snap, though only halfheartedly. Ron had been so distracted by the stare Luna was giving him that he had lost to Neville three times in a row.

Luna was sitting near the compartment door, looking in Ron’s direction but not as if she was really seeing him, but as if she were looking right through him. Sitting next to her was Ginny.

Ginny was not looking at anyone, but rather at her own lap. She was playing with the hem of her jumper and would absentmindedly stretch out her arm and scratch the ears of the sleeping Crookshanks beside her. Ginny had not said a lot to anyone, much less Harry, since the funeral. Ron and Hermione had not asked Harry anything about it, so he figured that they probably thought she was still in deep distress about Dumbledore. But he knew that was not all that was troubling her.

Right after Ron finally beat Neville, Hermione arrived, looking somber and moody. Her eyes swept the compartment and found Luna. She cleared her throat and said, “Some Ravenclaw fifth years near the front of the train told me they have some things of yours they want to return.”

Everyone turned to Luna with questioning eyes, but she only looked to Harry. “It always turns up,” she chimed, and then gave him a small smile. She got up and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Hermione sank into the seat Luna had occupied and said, “No one is misbehaving or anything. I didn’t yell at anyone—not once.”

Neville looked up from the chessboard Ron had taken out and reasoned, “Well, they’re probably still in shock about...” He stole a glance at Harry, who had returned to staring out the window, and then at Ginny, who was rubbing tears out of her eyes with one hand and petting Crookshanks with the other.

“That’s why I didn’t even bother going ‘round the train,” said Ron, watching his pawn wrestle Neville’s off the board. “Why waste my time?” He grabbed a Chocolate Frog, ripped off the wrapper, and stuffed it in his mouth. He tossed the card by his bags and threw the wrapper into a pile Hermione was eyeing with contempt. Harry saw a miniature Dumbledore winking at him from the card on the floor. He felt his face redden and twisted his body around so the others would not see.

The compartment was very quiet for a while, the only sounds being the ripping of the wrappers, the occasional sniffs from Ginny, and the thump of the falling chess pieces. Harry enjoyed the quiet, wishing that the train would never arrive at King’s Cross. He imagined what it would be like if the train just rode on forever when suddenly there was a lot of commotion outside the compartment. People were yelling and screaming and...laughing?

Hermione rushed out to fulfill her duty as prefect, Ron hesitantly following. Ginny stood up and mumbled something about wanting to see what happened and rushed out.

Neville turned to Harry and asked, “Want to go see what’s up?”

Harry shook his head, gazing at the spot where Ginny had been sitting.

Harry was soon alone with two staring owls, a sleeping cat that obviously missed Ginny’s scratches (he kept raising his paw and swiped at his own ears), and a chessboard full of whining pieces.

Hermione and Ron came back about five minutes later. Hermione looked furious whilst Ron had an amused smile on his face.

They both sat opposite of Harry, but before he could ask what had happened Hermione turned to Ron, glaring at him. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual. “Those first years had Dungbombs that they threw and all you did was stand there. And when I tried to confiscate them- because you know, that is what prefects are supposed to do- you... you... what’s so funny?”

Ron was shaking in suppressed laughter, staring at Hermione and her wide and frantic eyes as if she had just finished sharing a very amusing joke.

“It was an accident, Hermione,” he said as he finally stopped laughing and made his way to the floor. “They dropped the Dungbombs—they didn’t throw them. And I let them keep ‘em because after everything that’s happened- who are we to take the last bits of happiness from the youngsters,” he ended in a phony serious voice and started picking up his chess pieces one by one and tossing them in a paper bag.

Harry asked Hermione before she could snap at Ron, “Where are Neville and Ginny?”

“Ginny told me she was going to sit with some friends,” she retorted, glaring at Ron as if she would have liked nothing more than to snatch one of the chess pieces and chuck it at his head. “I saw Neville talking to Dean.”

Ron finished putting away his chess set and sat next to Harry. When he saw Hermione watching him with so much anger, he looked taken aback. He turned to Harry, clearly wanting an answer from him as to why she was mad. When Harry said nothing but gave only a half shrug, he looked sideways at Hermione and asked in innocent bewilderment, “What?”

Evidently he had said the wrong thing, for Hermione instantly turned a deep shade of pink before their eyes, reminding Harry of Uncle Vernon’s transformations into a plum every time Harry was accused of doing something “unnatural” or saying something regarding magic.

But Hermione did not did not scream at Ron as Uncle Vernon always had to Harry whenever he did something “wrong.” She said in a voice very even and controlled, “This is probably our last day as prefects. We are supposed to keep everyone under control, but you seem to think that it’s alright if they’re mishandling Dungbombs. After... after... what happened... I’d think that you would take things more seriously.” Her voice was cracking but she kept talking, determined to say everything on her mind. “But, no... you...you... laugh—like it’s a time to be joking. You know what you’re doing?” She took a deep breath, and tore her eyes away from Ron, clearly regretting what she was about to say. “You’re... you’re insulting Dumbledore.”

Her voice was just above a whisper, but both Harry and Ron heard her clearly. Harry saw Hermione glimpse at him, but Ron’s eyes were completely focused on her. His mouth was slightly open and his ears were turning red. Harry was not even sure if he was breathing, because Ron’s breath had hitched at Hermione’s words.

Ron stood up so abruptly that he knocked over the bag of chess pieces. He ignored their cries of indignation and stared down at Hermione, whose eyes had opened wide in fright, though her jaw remained set. Harry thought he knew what was coming...

“Don’t you tell me what I’m doing,” croaked Ron. His eyes were bulging and his hands were in fists. Harry knew Ron would never hit Hermione, but he was not so sure that Ron would be able to restrain himself from hitting anything... or anyone... else. “Just because I don’t want to take someone’s Dungbombs... it was an accident Hermione... a bloody accident. Have you ever punished me or Harry for breaking the rules? Even when it was on purpose?”

“You and Harry are my best friends.” Hermione was actually shaking, but she too stood up. “I would never... what kind of a friend would I be? And you—Harry never broke the rules just because... he... he always had a good reason.” She straightened herself and asked, “Are you suggesting that I should have taken housepoints when we talked to Sirius? And when we had the D.A. meetings?”

“Well... why didn’t you? Since you love rules so much—”

“I don’t love rules, Ron!” Harry knew that Hermione was at the brink of crying—he could see the tears starting to glisten beneath her eyes. He wanted to stop the argument, but knew better than to come in-between Ron and Hermione when they were having such a huge row.

“Well you have a funny way of showing it,” snapped Ron, who had stepped on and broken his white queen accidentally but had not even noticed. He only raised his right hand and pointed at Hermione. “You always went ‘Ron, we’re prefects.’ Like being a prefect was so important! Even when you’ve broken plenty of rules yourself! Or have you already forgotten you days as a CAT?”

Harry immediately knew that Ron had crossed the line. Ron seemed to have realized that too, for he lowered his arm and took a step backwards. Both he and Harry looked at Hermione with fascination. Her face had flushed, but the expression she had was positively alarming. If Harry had not known her better, he would have thought that that she was ready to growl and pounce on Ron.

Harry thought he ought to stop the fight before things really got out of hand, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Hermione turned her back to the pair and started storming out of the compartment.

She had reached the door when Ron muttered, “Probably off to write to Vicky to tell him everything.”

Hermione froze at the door and whirled around. She didn’t look angry anymore, but was instead looking rather miserable. Tears were leaking out from under her eyes and leaving wet trails down her pallid cheeks. Though she looked hurt, she still managed to spit out heatedly, “Maybe I will write to Viktor. Maybe I need a friend who doesn’t have such a thick skull.”

“Well, fine!” roared Ron, his hands no longer in fists but clenching and unclenching much like Crabbe and Goyle’s would when they would try to look particularly menacing. “You should tell him to come over and then you could take turns snogging him and McLaggen!”

“Oh you’re one to talk about snogging!” Hermione practically screeched out the words. Harry would not have been surprised if the whole train could hear them and sure enough he saw several Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors looking in through the compartment window only a moment later, enthralled by what they witnessing. Harry jerked his head to one side and they took the hint and scurried off.

Hermione took no notice of their audience but sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. “Obviously you feel like you’re such an expert on that subject. But I’m sure even you and Lavender had a lot of interesting conversations when you weren’t...” She shuffled her feet and wringed her hands. Harry could tell that this had to be one of the most uncomfortable situations she has ever been in—even after all the dicey adventures they had endured.

Hermione sniffed and looked down, but her head snapped back up. She stared at Ron through slits between her eyelids and queried, “Surely you spoke to her about me and Harry?”

Ron gawked at Hermione, then looked down at the floor and noticed his broken queen. He kicked it aside but said nothing.

“No?” asked Hermione, a mocking look of puzzlement on her face.

“She didn’t want to talk about you,” grumbled Ron, stuffing his hands in his pockets and throwing himself down on a seat. Harry noted that by “you” Ron was referring only to Hermione, and that he said nothing about Lavender minding if he talked about Harry.

“Well, that’s something you two have in common,” said Hermione, her expression softening but still sounding furious. “You both get jealous for no reason.”

Ron looked up at Hermione and his ears immediately got redder, which Harry thought to be impossible. He did not say anything but only fixed his gaze back on the floor.

“I was never jealous,” he finally grunted as he shifted in his seat.

“Honestly, Ron,” said Hermione very airily, looking quite smug. “Why else would you care so much that Viktor was my friend and that I went with Cormac to a party.”

“Because,” Ron hastily replied, his eyes darting around the compartment as if searching for an answer hidden in the corner or written on one of the seats. “Because...because...” His desperation finally got to him and he blurted out, “Well... they were obviously using you—”

“WHAT!” Hermione actually jumped and Harry was essentially frightened of her crazed appearance. She was bouncing on the spot and her bushy hair was becoming bushier as it bounced along with her.

“Viktor was Harry’s opponent in the tournament and McLaggen was after my spot on the Quidditch team!” Ron shouted, but he still wouldn’t look at Hermione.

Harry desperately wanted to leave the compartment. It seemed the two had forgotten he was there. He would have just left if Hermione was not blocking the exit. Not wanting to get involved in the argument, he did not say a word, nor did he move at all.

“I’ve already said it, Ron,” whispered Hermione, her eyes once again silently releasing tears as she stopped bouncing. “You have always been jealous for no reason.” She stepped backwards until her back was resting on the compartment’s door. “You’ve never... you’ve never had a reason to be jealous. I would’ve... I would’ve chosen you... but... but... oh, Ron.... sometimes... sometimes you can be such a... such a PRAT!”

Harry was transfixed. Hermione was acting very funny and Ron was acting funnier than usual. And from what he was hearing... it sounded like... Harry could not believe that it was finally happening. They may finally realize...

“Prat, am I?” snorted Ron, his eyes squinting in the direction of Hedwig and Pig as if they were the ones that had insulted him. “Yeah... well, if you hadn’t been so bloody proud when Lavender and I...”

Harry cringed. Ron had just ruined his opportunity.

“Oh.” Hermione’s voice was hollow. She rubbed frantically at her eyes though they were already quite dry. “I see. Well... well, if we’re done here... I think... I think I’ll go see how G-ginny’s doing.” She turned on the spot, slid open the door, and slammed it shut behind her.

Ron groaned and put his head in his hands, then peered at Harry through his fingers.

“Er... women. They’re all mad—every last one of ‘em.”

“Honestly, mate,” said Harry, turning back to the window, “I think you’re both crazy.”

Harry smirked, Ron moaned, and the tiny white chess pieces wailed as they buried the fragments of their queen beneath the pile of Chocolate Frog wrappers.