Back to You

April 14^th

Ron Weasley didn't understand girls, that was obvious. But he really didn't understand one particular girl above of all the others. And the annoying part about it was that he thought he knew her, he certainly wanted to think that he knew her, but every time he thought he was making process, something happened that forced him to regress to his utter confusion.

He had been thinking about Hermione Granger more than he cared to admit; he still didn't want to even think what his heart was telling him about his true feelings for the girl. But he had Hermione on the brain more than usual ever since his birthday over a month ago. She had given him the best gifts: the Keeper gloves had really come in handy and looked fantastic compared to the shabbiness of Oliver Wood's old robes, and the book...that bloody book...

That book had turned things upside down and flipped his whole approach on life inside out. Hermione had always been such a good friend to him, and he would do anything in the world to keep her safe. But damn it, she knew how to make life complicated for a simple boy like Ron Weasley. He had thought he had a firm grasp on their relationship and where they stood: they were just good friends, best friends. That had been the one thing he was certain was; he wasn't even as certain about his relationship with Harry. Hermione was his rock, his saving grace, she would always be there for him, and he would also be eternally grateful to her for her friendship.

But what if there was more than friendship? Fred and George had always teased him about his "little girlfriend" and he had been asked more than once in the boys' loo if Hermione was a good shag. He had never really thought about what other people had insinuated; he had always just told the twins to just shut up and he usually had punched the offending heckler in the bathroom. But what if they had been right?

That book certainly indicated that Hermione thought of him in more than a friend way. Ron knew that he was rather thick, but he couldn't overlook what Hermione had written. Hermione had a forthright, direct attitude that made it almost impossible for anyone not to understand her intentions. He had already read the book twice, and spent more time perusing the pages of the handwritten book rather than his schoolbooks. Ron smirked at the thought of what Hermione would say if she knew he read her book rather than doing his homework. That smirk faded though when he thought about the possibility of Hermione fancying him.

Hermione fancy him, the screw-up, the sidekick that most people forgot the name of, the one who always tried to help his friends but usually ended up needing the help most of all? It just didn't seem possible for a brilliant girl like Hermione to go for a bloke like him. She should be with...well, someone like Harry or Viktor, as much as Ron hated to admit it. Someone who could take care of her in the way Ron never could: financially. Hermione deserved the best, and he didn't know if he would be able to offer her that. All that he could give her was his undying pledge of friendship, and he didn't think that that would be enough.

Ron knew that Hermione relied heavily on logic, and it wasn't logical for her to fancy him. But there was still that pesky book...

He shook his head--girls. He was never going to understand them.

He blinked as a white wispy shape whooshed over his head, bringing him out of his thoughts. He was supposed to be practicing a Patronus, but he just couldn't seem to get the hang of it. Ron reckoned that it could be because his happy thought wasn't strong enough, but he couldn't really think of one at the moment; he was just too preoccupied. It didn't help that the person he was spending hours pondering about was smiling in the way that made his insides feel all warm and funny. She was staring up at the Patronus she had just produced, a soft, sincere grin lighting her pretty features...no, Merlin, no, Ron reminded himself. Do not think of Hermione in that way, not until you know for sure if something is going on, or if something could go on. Ron sighed as he raked a frustrated hand through his hair. He was going to have to read that book again.

The noise in the room started to dissipate disconcertingly quickly, so Ron turned to see what was up. Dobby had scurried into the room and made a beeline for Harry. Dobby was jabbering away wildly, and Harry was trying to make out what he was saying and restrain the house-elf from beating himself. He frowned as he tried to make his way through the crowd of students; what the hell?

When he was confused, he automatically sought out Hermione. Sure enough, her eyes were roving around the room and her face clearly indicated that she knew what was going on, and whatever that something was, it wasn't good.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed. "RUN!"

Ron didn't know why for certain, but as he shoved his way towards the door, an idea did cross his mind. Dobby must have warned Harry about something, and it must have been that someone was coming for them. And if they were caught, it meant expulsion. He shot a desperate look over his shoulder and saw that Harry was dealing with Dobby. But what about--?

"Harry, come on!" shrieked Hermione from the center of the knot of people now fighting to get out.

There she was. For some reason, Ron kept remembering the first night he had ever broken a Hogwarts rule by sneaking out to be Harry's second in the "duel" with Malfoy, the night Hermione and Neville had joined them and found Fluffy, and Hermione's furious words to them. She had thought that expulsion from Hogwarts would be worse than death, and he couldn't let her endure the humiliation and pain of that.

The throng of students had finally managed to pile out of the Room of Requirement, and Ron flung himself forward so he could grab Hermione's wrist and drag her away. He had to get her as far out of the way as he could manage, and then he had to go back for Harry. Knowing Harry, he would linger much too long taking care of Dobby, and needed someone to hurry him along. There was no way that Harry would be able to flee in time so he needed a place to hide, and Ron wasn't going to let him hide alone. Swearing quietly under his breath so Hermione wouldn't overhear, he yanked her into an empty classroom. "Wait," he gasped, straining to hear Harry's footsteps and attempting to calm his breathing as fast as he could in case he had to make a run for it again to grab Harry.

"Where exactly would I go right now?" Hermione snapped impatiently, "What are we doing?"

Merlin, what did I do now, he thought in bewilderment but he didn't think it would be a good idea to question her about her irritation now. Besides, there were much more important things to focus on. "Waiting for Harry," Ron replied, wondering why Hermione couldn't think of that on her own; did she really think he was going to leave Harry to fend for himself? He must have redeemed himself somehow because Hermione actually smiled slightly at his response. Ron leaned forward again to try to hear Harry.

"Well, where is he?" Hermione sounded as though she was frantically trying to catch her breath as she joined Ron at the doorway.

"Dunno," Ron said worriedly.

"AAARGH!"

Harry!

Ron and Hermione both shot out of the classroom at the sound of Harry's yell, and he barreled towards the sound of Harry's yell, but Hermione pulled him back with a strength he did not expect from a girl of her size.

"Trip Jinx, Potter! Hey, Professor--PROFESSOR! I've got one!"

Ron struggled to free himself from Hermione's grip on his robes, really wanting to pound his fist into Malfoy's sneering face. Harry was going to get caught if he didn't get out there and stop Malfoy, but Hermione just yanked even harder and managed to drag him back into the classroom.

"Hermione, what are you doing!" Ron hissed, "We can't just let Harry get caught by Umbridge!"

"Ron, shut up!" Hermione shot over her shoulder as she cautiously poked her head out of the door so she could hear. Ron leaned in close to her so he could also overhear the whiny, breathy voice that defined their foul DADA professor.

"Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good--fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here...Stand up, Potter! You hop along and see if you can round up anymore of them, Draco. Tell the others to look in the library--anybody out of breath--check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones--off you go--and you,"

"Shit!" Hermione swore. She whirled around to look at Ron with wide fearful eyes. "Malfoy's searching for the rest us! He'll be in here in a minute!"

Ron knew he shouldn't laugh, he really shouldn't, but it was really tempting; Hermione had always nagged him for ages about his language, and now here she was shouting out swear words. He just stared at her in unconcealed shock. "Did you just say shit?" He knew he shouldn't, but he just had to point that out to her. He couldn't let her know that he was going to condone this sort of behavior, he thought teasingly.

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione closed the door quickly and locked it with a quick flick of her wand. "That won't hold Malfoy for long, but it gives us a bit of time. What are we going to do?"

The panicked tone of her voice quickly made him drop his bantering mood. "Where did Harry go?" Ron asked worriedly.

Hermione sighed. "Umbridge caught him."

"Son of a bitch!" Ron yelled without thinking. He could have done something if Hermione had only let him run out there, he would have distracted that bastard, and then Harry wouldn't be in this mess. Harry was in enough trouble all ready with Umbridge; this disobedience was all she needed to send Harry back to the Dursleys for good.

His worries about Harry halted as Hermione clapped her hand over his mouth, balancing perilously on her tiptoes to do so. "Ron! Quiet!" Ron hastily slapped her hand away, still randomly feeling the pressure of her skin on his lips but not really concentrating on that glorious feeling. Another horrid thought had crossed his mind.

"And now Malfoy's looking for us?"

"And if he finds us in here, we'll get sent straight to Umbridge," Hermione added hurriedly. He could practically see her mind furiously racing, trying to scheme up one of her brilliant plans in time. Ron knew that it was only a matter of time before Malfoy found the room and checked it for them. He knew that Malfoy would be especially keen to find him and Hermione; why not get only one of the dream team expelled when you could get all three chucked out? He really wanted to punch the wall or better yet Malfoy or do something to express the tension he was undergoing. But he knew that wasn't the constructive thing to do, thanks to Hermione's vast influence on him. He had to think of a plan. His brain was failing him so Ron decided to just act on instinct and found himself striding over the window and flinging it open.

"Maybe I could summon my broom from the Tower," Ron suggested frantically, "We could fly out onto the grounds."

Hermione gasped with joy, but then her whole face fell "No, we can't risk it," she said. "The broom could come through the hallway instead of out the window; I think Malfoy would be a little suspicious if your broom shot past him while he searched for us."

Ron let out a frustrated breath, feeling his ears turning crimson, irritated as hell with Hermione. For the brief moment that her face had been illuminated with surprised glee, he had really thought everything was going to be all right, and better yet, he had been the one to set them right and make her face glow like that. But damn it, it had only been for a bloody moment, and now he was even more anxious than ever. "Then what are we going to do? You're supposed to be the clever one, remember. You think of something then!" he snapped angrily, irrationally angry at her for unintentionally toying with him like that.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Well, I did think of something that may work."

Ron was rather taken aback that she looked almost hesitant to reveal her undoubtedly extraordinary plan, but he didn't care right now. All he cared about was making sure that he and Hermione got out of this situation. "What? What is it?" Ron pressed eagerly.

"Well," Hermione said reluctantly, "you remember the one time we went patrolling and we walked in on Fred and Angelina?"

Ron involuntarily grimaced at the memory; that had been humiliating, and Fred had harped on him for weeks about walking on him and Angelina. "Yeah, what about..." Ron realized with a jolt what Hermione was insinuating and he felt the blood drain out of his face and into his ears. "Oh, Hermione, no," he protested, ears now a vivid maroon. "We can't, not like this!" Not that he thought about doing that with Hermione...okay, yes he did, he dreamed about it, and every once in a while when he saw her smile or dressed in a certain way, okay, he did. But never in his wildest, most scandalous daydreams did they do this in a classroom, faking it for Draco Malfoy. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be, it was wrong, and it was awful to think that because Hermione was never wrong, so maybe she was right...damn it, why did she have to confuse him so much?!

Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a squeal, hair flying as she jerked her head towards the door. "We haven't got time to argue about it, Ron, it's the only thing to do!"

Do what, Ron thought furiously at her as she sprung into action. His body felt oddly numb and inflexible, and he just stood there, unable to take his eyes off Hermione as she pulled out her wand, lit all the candles in the room at once with one deft swish of her wand, and then transfigured some quills that were sitting on the desk in the front of the room into roses. Okay, Ron thought edgily, you can do this, he tried to pep himself up for the deed, maybe you don't even have to kiss her or anything, you can make it just look like she and I are...Ron blanched as Hermione tore off her robes and yanked off her jumper. Unintentionally, the upward motion pulled her white collared shirt up as well, and Ron for the first time caught a glimpse of the ivory skin that lay beneath the stiff cotton. He ogled for a spilt second before remembering how wrong it was to be staring at his friend like this, and he whirled around to hide the vivid blush. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Come on, Ron, we have to make this look convincing!" Hermione whispered while undoing her tie and unbuttoning her shirt partway. Oh Merlin, don't do that, he moaned internally as he for the first time caught sight of not only a girl's brassiere, but an eyeful of what the brassiere shielded from the world. Ron's eyes shot away from the splendid sight as a surge of pure, lustful, bold emotion rushed over him, and he cursed the day that boys were endowed with hateful testosterone. Hermione matter-of-factly strode over to him and pulled on his robes, her fingers grazing on his arms and augmenting the oh-so-pleasant feeling pouring hotly through his veins. "Take off your jumper, hurry!" Ron clumsily obeyed, wondering how Hermione could be so calm about this if she did in fact fancy him. He certainly fancied her, and he was about ready to implode...oh, shit, you just admitted it to yourself, didn't you, Ron bemoaned. You just actually thought it. He had only felt it, sensed it, secretly knew it was true, but he wouldn't allow himself to even think it, but now he had fucked that up. It was there, and it would always be there in the forefront of his mind. He had finally thought it: he had a thing for Hermione Granger. And now he had to convince his worse enemy that he was shagging her.

Ron found that he could no longer look at Hermione as he finished undressing. Hermione was rapidly moving again, and he forced himself to watch what she was doing. She had dropped to her knees on the floor and quickly arranged the robes into a makeshift bed onto the floor. She shook her head from side to side to make her frizzy hair even more tousled as if she had been lying on the floor for quite some time while positioning herself on top of the robes. Ron's jaw dropped as the curls hit the side of her face in an alluring manner, and he had the overwhelming urge to run his hands through her wild mane. "Ron, come on, you know that people all ready think that we do this all the time!" she hissed impatiently. Ron still didn't move; since when did Hermione Granger conform to people's expectations. "We have to do this; it's not like you have anything to lose." Ron didn't know whether to laugh or shriek in frustration at Hermione's words; he and Hermione both had something to lose, and snogging was definitely the first step in that direction. Hermione seemed to realize her error as she winced while Ron swallowed hard and jumped when the doorknob rattled. "We're out of time!"

Oh, Merlin, this is it, Ron's anxiety was making him physically nauseous and he could feel sweat on his bloodless cheeks. Hermione was not going to like snogging with an ill bloke like himself but it was the only way. He finally nodded and hastily knelt down on the ground next to her. He met her eyes nervously, wondering if he should tell her that he actually, embarrassingly enough, had never kissed a girl before, and despite his brother's lessons, he really didn't know how or where to begin, and considering that this wasn't any girl, he wanted to do it right even though it was just for show. And whenever he was unsure about something, he always followed Hermione's lead.

But luckily he didn't have to.

Hermione grabbed Ron's tie, yanked him towards her, and firmly planted her lips onto his.

Holy shit!

Ron didn't really want to think about how Hermione knew how to kiss a boy in such a way that every fiber of his being was tingling with pleasure. He was so shocked and amazed by his first kiss that at first he didn't really do anything and this caused some awkward bumping of noses and teeth, but that didn't matter to Ron. What mattered was that this was Hermione, his Hermione, and if she hadn't done enough for him, now she was making him feel like a man for the first time in his life. He had to do something to let her know how much he appreciated that. Without thinking, Ron started taking initiative on his own, and to his shock, found that either his brother's lessons did pay off or he somehow intrinsically knew how to kiss a girl. Hermione's hand guided his to her side, and he knew that where she had rested it gave the indication that he was feeling her up. Once that was in place, Hermione moved that hand up to his tie and sensually began to work the knot loose while unbuttoning his shirt with the other. Her fingers grazed against his chest and Ron felt the need to explore her body and without even realizing it, worked the final two buttons of her shirt loose so her smooth skin was revealed to him. He wanted to look but he was still rather occupied with her lips; he felt that he could honestly spend a lot of time exploring this area of her body, but he didn't have time. In fact, he didn't know if they were ever going to do this again. Hermione didn't appear to be the kind of girl who let her friends snog her. So he enjoyed the sensation of her previously undisclosed regions of her body pressed against his chest, and brought his hand upwards to her cheek. Both hands on her face, Ron was free to pull her closer so he could enjoy the feeling of her tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. He vaguely remembered learning about kissing and the thought of a girl's tongue in his mouth at the time had at the time been utterly repulsive. But now, Ron thought it was the most wonderful sensation on the planet and decided to see if it was just as pleasurable to stick a tongue in a girl's mouth. At this point, Hermione finally yanked his tie free from his collar and that arm firmly wrapped itself around his neck and also pulled him closer so hard that they tumbled backwards. His fingers remained ensnarled in her hair as they hit the floor--Ron was thankful that Hermione had been clever enough to pile their robes there so she wouldn't be injured--and all he knew was that no matter what, they just couldn't stop touching, he may never feel the way her skin felt against his, how she tasted, the sensation of her back arching towards him, his legs brushing up against hers, and good lord, how could he have ever forgotten that Hermione Granger was a girl?

"For Merlin's sake, Weasel," Draco Malfoy faintly broke through Ron's daze of ecstasy, "Keep it in your robes!"

Son of a bitch, he hated that git!

Ron wished he could just banish Malfoy straight out of the room so he and Hermione could pick up where they left off, but the thought of Harry being expelled penetrated his conscious, and as Hermione quickly released her hold on Ron, he pushed himself off the ground and knelt back, actually sitting back onto Hermione's leg. He knew that he should move, but this was the only part of Hermione's body he could convincingly touch at this moment, and he planned on seizing the opportunity for all it was worse.

"Clear off, Malfoy!" Ron snapped, breathing heavily. A satisfied smile crossed his face when he saw his tie humorously had landed directly on Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy was staring at him with a reviled, disdainful sneer, but there was something else evident in Malfoy's eyes that Ron couldn't quite put his finger on. That thought was wiped from his mind as Hermione rolled over partway onto her stomach to give Malfoy one of her famous glares. He glared right back but whatever Ron had seen blazing in the Slytherin's eyes grew stronger as he focused on Hermione. Ron stiffened; he never liked it when Malfoy turned his attention in any way towards Hermione.

"Oh, I don't know, Weasley," Malfoy drawled, "I'm rather enjoying the view at the moment."

Son of a bitch--I unbuttoned her shirt!

The thought of Malfoy viewing the private areas of Hermione filled Ron's veins with a hot, violent fury that made it impossible for him to remain still. He leapt to his feet, wondering if it was possible to decapitate someone with your bare hands or if it would be better to just punch Malfoy in both of his eyes so he would remember to never ever look at Hermione in that way ever again.

"Ron, don't!" Hermione cried as she also got to her feet, one arm tightly around her chest to shield herself from Malfoy's ogling eyes. She must not be feeling well or something, because she looked unnaturally flustered and she actually stumbled and appeared to be quite unsteady on her feet. Ron caught her before she fell, and she dug her fingernails into his arms while she straightened up. "Just leave it alone, Ron," she warned as she got a hold of herself. Ron glanced down at the her clenched fingers in his arm, realizing why Hermione had feigned wobbly legs--well played, Hermione, he admitted.

"How sweet, Weasley, you brought the Mudblood flowers," Malfoy mocked. He had crossed the center of the room and was now perched on the edge of the teachers' desk, twirling one of the roses Hermione had Transfigured in his bony fingers. "Do you feel the need to compensate for something?" His eyes maliciously traveled down to Ron's pelvic area.

Son of a bitch! Ron didn't know why he let Malfoy get to him like this, but personally, he didn't really care, all he cared about was shutting the Slytherin's fat mouth. He tried to break away, but Hermione set her heels into the ground, successfully holding Ron back. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she demanded, squeezing Ron's wrist painfully hard. He winced as a sharp pain shot up his arm, and he knew what Hermione was telling him: they had to make him believe that they did this all the time in order to make sure they didn't get expelled, so he'd better calm down and play along.

He glanced down at her, and frowned. Well, he didn't really want to frown at the delicious sight of Hermione's provocatively unbuttoned shirt; he really wanted to stare at it for hours. But the thought of Malfoy seeing Hermione like this...that's what really made him frown, and scowl, and want to annihilate Malfoy if he ever so much as looked at Hermione in the way he was examining her right now. Hermione didn't seem to realize the effect she was having on them, and he didn't want to say it out loud and call Malfoy's attention to it--it would only embarrass Hermione. He tried to squirm out of Hermione's hold, but she refused to release him. He rolled his eyes in acceptance; fine, if she wasn't going to fix the situation, then he was going to do it for her. He moved a few steps to the side so his back was to Malfoy and Hermione was facing him, still clinging tightly to his wrists. Now Malfoy couldn't see her. Now for the hard part--his hormones were telling him to take the shirt off but Ron slowly rebuttoned Hermione's shirt for her, blocking Malfoy's view of her at the same time. He sensed her tense up slightly and he wondered if the moment between them had passed and she didn't want him to touch her anymore. But he couldn't let this go--she shouldn't be stared at like that.

"So, how long have you two been at it?" Malfoy demanded from behind Ron. Ron had almost finished the task of dressing Hermione, and surprisingly, putting on her clothes was almost as sexy as taking them off, and he really didn't appreciate being interrupted from one of his very rare moments where he could look at Hermione like this.

"What's it to you," Ron snapped over his shoulder. His shoulders tensed as he steeled himself for another comment and knew that whatever Malfoy said next to insult them, he would be punished for. Hermione squeezed his wrists again, but in a much gentler manner. This surprised him, and since he had finished buttoning her shirt, he felt able to look into those hazel eyes.

"Please don't," she whispered almost inaudibly so Malfoy wouldn't overhear. Ron stared back, wondering if those eyes had always had those striking flecks of gold and emerald immersed within the coffee brown as his fingers unconsciously remained lightly rested on her shoulders. That was the moment Ron Weasley knew for certain that Hermione Granger was the most beautiful girl he would ever see in his entire life.

"If you two don't mind," Malfoy swept towards the door, "I have a job to do." He turned back, smirk back on his face. "And by the way, while you two have been shagging, Potter's been expelled." Ron looked away, being so emotionally confused and drained from this charade that he felt he couldn't even feign shock. "Not that I blame you, Weasley," Malfoy's leer swept over to Hermione once again. "I hear that once you go Mudblood, you never go back."

What do you know--it was just as wonderful to punch Malfoy in his pointy jaw as he had always imagined.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked.

His knuckles ached from the impact, but that didn't stop Ron from wildly swinging his fist again, and this time caught Malfoy on one of his cheekbones. The blow wasn't as powerful as the first, and Malfoy only recoiled half a step before recovering. Ron drew his arm back again, but he wasn't anticipating Malfoy fighting back--in his imagination, Malfoy had always just shrieked like a girl. Besides, Malfoy had always hidden behind Crabbe and Goyle, so Ron figured that the git couldn't fight like a man. Malfoy could however, and he charged towards Ron, arms around his torso as he tried to tackle Ron to the ground. Ron, being, several inches taller than the Slytherin, managed to shove Malfoy away despite the fist pounding into his side. He tried to land a punch again, but Malfoy landed his first, straight on his chin.

Damn, Ron grunted with pain as he reeled backwards, hand on his now throbbing jaw, almost doubled completely over with pain. Come on Weasley, he told himself angrily, you're not going to let Malfoy knock you out with one punch, are you?

But fortunately for him, that wasn't an option.

"Obliviate!"

Malfoy stood stock still, his approach towards Ron halted, a faraway, glassy look in his usually cold gray eyes. Ron straightened up, panting. Hermione. She had been the one to save the day again. And he had wanted to be the one to protect her, but of course she had ended up saving his hide again. She must think he was the biggest prat on the planet if he couldn't handle a git like Malfoy. Ron's humiliation was quickly overcome with a typical blast of resentment, and he whirled around at her, fury written all over his flushed face.

"What the hell was that!?"

"A Memory Charm," Hermione said briskly, "He won't remember a thing so he can't report you for fighting him." She was giving him that look that he hated, the look that made him feel like an idiot, and reminded him horribly of the fact that she was ten times smarter than he was.

"He started it," Run defended himself automatically.

"I don't care," Hermione retorted, "You shouldn't have hit him."

Ron kicked at the ground in frustration. Why didn't Hermione get it--he did have to hit Malfoy; he just couldn't stand there and let the bastard do or say whatever he wanted. Hermione had a policy of turning the other cheek most of the time, but even she lost her temper with Malfoy every once in a while; why couldn't she understand when he did the same, especially after Malfoy had stared at her like she was some tasty dish brought in by a house-elf. He couldn't win at a war with words as she could, so he had to use his fists. Well, at least Malfoy couldn't spread it around that they were snogging. Ron's irritation mounted as he suddenly thought of something. "Why couldn't you just have Memory charmed him when he first came in?"

Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "Well, I'm sorry, Ron!" Hermione apologized in a waspish tone. "I was under a bit of pressure at the time, and you certainly weren't any help! This was the same room we found Fred and Angelina in, it's natural that my mind immediately went to that..."

"Oh, great, I snogged a girl in the same room as my brother," Ron moaned. "Thanks a lot, Hermione!"

He really wasn't angry at Hermione, honestly. He just--it was just--Ron didn't know why he was so frustrated and confused and furious about all that had just occurred. And now that it was all over, the incident had just reminded him how oafish he really was and now to top it all, Hermione was snapping at him again. So he fought back the only way he could: with his temper.

"Well, I'm sorry," Hermione repeated in a flat tone, "I was only trying to keep us from getting expelled. Next time I won't bother!" She stooped down to snatch up her clothes and she jammed her jumper back over her head.

He frowned as he watched her. He had noticed that her eyes looked a bit odd, and it just hit him it was because she was blinking much quicker than usual, and he had a sickening feeling that he knew why. She was about to cry, and he hated watching Hermione cry even more than he despised Malfoy. "Hermione," Ron started off, making sure that his irritation had disappeared from his voice and wondering if he should try to put his arm around her or touch in some way to let her know that he was sorry, that he cared, and that he would do anything to make sure that everything was okay.

But Hermione didn't let him get that far. "Look, let's just forget this ever happened, all right?" she said curtly, "We're the only two who knows, and let's keep it that way." Her hands shook as she fumbled to clasp her robes in place.

Ron stammered incoherently for a few seconds as he tried to comprehend what she had just said. She wanted to forget about kissing him? She didn't want to remember being with him in that way. Well, Ron told himself as he gathered up his own clothing and of course tripped over his own feet in the process, that clenches it: she really doesn't fancy you. "Fine with me," he eventually snapped, wanting to get the last word in. Ron considered saying more, but he didn't know what on earth he was going to say. It was a bad idea to do this? What were they going to do with Malfoy--just leave him there? She really didn't like kissing him at all? Would she have rather kissed Viktor? Or Zacharias? Or even Harry? What the hell was going on in that brilliant mind of hers, because he couldn't for the life of him figure it out.

But all Ron Weasley did was close his mouth and stalk out his room, his jaw tightly clenched. He had to get back the common room and find out what happened with Harry and he had prefect duties to attend to and he needed to finish up some Potions homework. He couldn't waste time obsessing over a planned kiss with a girl.

Ron suppressed a weary sigh. He could tell these things to himself all he wanted, but he knew deep down inside of him that he was going to spend the rest of the evening intently pouring over the pages of Hermione's book, searching for a section on what it means when a girl suggests that you snog in order to escape expulsion.