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.