Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix

Tap, tap, tap.

Ginny rolled over in her bed and moaned in irritation. "Go away!" she yelled at whoever was knocking at the door.

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled. Ginny Weasley certainly wasn't a morning person. She sat up and started towards the door.

Tap, tap, tap.

She turned around, confused and disoriented. The knocking wasn't coming from the door; it was from the window.

She grinned. Hedwig!

She flew over to the window and opened it instantly. Hedwig hopped in off the ledge and onto her shoulder, dropping one of three envelopes into Hermione's outstretched hand. She started to tear it open, but Hedwig clicked her beak impatiently.

"What?" Hermione asked, confused. Quick as a snitch, Hedwig's head darted downwards towards Hermione's hands and to her shock, began pecking away at her fingers. "Hey!" Hermione yelled in protested, eyes stinging as the pain intensified in her hands. "Stop that!" She thrust her elbow upwards, hitting Hedwig's wing and effectively pushing her away from her now bleeding hands. "What's the matter with you?" she demanded, cradling her right hand, which was bleeding much more freely than her left, which had endured only one peck. Hedwig only clicked her beak once again in warning and flew out of the window again, most likely to deliver her other letters.

"Some people are trying to sleep here!" Ginny groaned, flopping back over on her side and squinting up at Hermione. She straightened though when she saw Hermione's hand. "What happened?"

"Hedwig went berserk," Hermione explained, pulling her handkerchief out of her nightstand and wrapping it around her hand. "I don't believe it, she's always been such a gentle bird."

Ginny sat up in bed, running her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. "What does Harry say?"

"Oh, right," Hermione pulled the single piece of parchment out of the envelope. It didn't take her long to read it.

The envelope fluttered out of her hand.

"Ron!" she yelled.

"Hermione?" Ginny anxiously climbed out of bed at the sight of Hermione's now pale face. "What is it?"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted again. She didn't know why she was screaming for him, maybe because she knew he needed to know, maybe because it was possible that his letter from Harry revealed a bit more information, or maybe because she just needed him by her side right now before she became violently ill or starting panicking, but all she knew was that she needed him now.

"Hermione, what's wrong?!" Ginny tried to grab the letter that was still in Hermione's now trembling hand, but Hermione was already running out of the room.

She had barely reached the stairs when she realized that Ron was already barreling down them, alerted by her cry.

"What? What's wrong?" he demanded worriedly, grabbing her by the upper arms and looking her up and down. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Hermione couldn't seem to find the words, she was so shocked at the news she had just learned and so relieved that Ron was with her. She could only shake her head fiercely when he raised her wrist to inspect her injured hand, and dumbly pushed her letter into Ron's hand. Ron snatched it up, and all the color drained out of his face as he read.

"What the hell is going on?" Ginny insisted as Fred and George Apparated onto the landing.

"Hermione, why are you screaming bloody murder at this hour?" George yawned.

"It's Harry," Ron said in a low voice. "He's been attacked."

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. Something about hearing the words out loud 'Harry's been attacked' made the situation all too real for her. She couldn't burst out crying now, she had to keep control of herself. George just stared at Ron in blatant shock while Ginny gasped and clapped a hand over her now gaping mouth. Ron continued to stare down at the letter. Fred apparently appeared to be the only one who could react right now.

"What?" Fred asked sharply, yanking the letter out of Ron's hand and reading aloud. "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."

"Straight to the point, he is," George remarked in such a cheerful tone that Hermione wanted to smack him. But Ginny beat her to it. "Ouch!" George protested, rubbing the side of his head. "What did you do that for? You know he's all right if he wrote the letter!"

"A letter!" Ron shouted, turning on his heel. "Hedwig was at my window!"

"Why didn't you let her in?" Ginny shouted, overtaking Ron on the stairs despite being almost a foot shorter than him and rushing to open the window.

"Sorry, but I don't think very clearly when I heard my best friend scream my name like she's being murdered!" Ron snapped irately. Hermione would have felt guilty, but there was another crisis to deal with. Hedwig must have been in a real foul mood, for when she delivered Harry's letter to Ron, she also commenced to pecking away at Ron's hands. "Gerroff!" Ron bellowed, swatting his arms frantically while Fred swiftly moved to help. Ron managed to duck away so he could rip open his letter and scan in hastily. "Damn!" he shouted, tossing it to the ground, "It says the same bloody thing!"

"Come on," The shock was clearing and Hermione was now slipping into forced rational mode. "The Order must know something."

**

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to let the rhythmic sound of Ginny's even breathing lull her to sleep. But as the minutes ticked by, Hermione only got more and more annoyed at herself. She should really get to sleep; she had a big day tomorrow, but her mind just wouldn't stop racing.

She couldn't stop thinking about all that had happened today. After receiving the terse note from Harry, she and Ron had raced down the stairs to find Mrs. Weasley and Lupin already on the way up; they had heard Hermione's yells and figured that they had heard the news. They of course had been informed the night before, but news hadn't arrived at Grimmauld Place until after she and Ron had gone up to their rooms for bed. She and Ginny had heard a flurry of activity occurring in on the bottom floor, and thought about going downstairs to ask if something was wrong. But they had decided to just let it go, figuring that if there was bad news, they would be informed. Hermione suppressed the urge to laugh bitterly; obviously, she and Ginny had been mistaken.

She and Ron had been rather angry that they hadn't been told right away about what had happened to Harry. Mrs. Weasley had argued that she hadn't wanted to wake them, but Lupin had had the good sense to look ashamed. He probably was thinking how he would feel if James or Sirius had been attacked and he wasn't told immediately. Lupin had tried to appease them by letting them speak to Dumbledore, who had obviously been the main person to rectify the situation.

They had then walked in on Dumbledore actually giving Mundungus Fletcher an awful bawling-out. She had met several members of the Order within her first couple weeks at Grimmauld Place, but besides the members that she had already knew and Tonks, she really didn't know them that well. And in Mundungus' case, she didn't really like him very much. Fred, George, and Ron took to him, of course, but both she and Ginny shunted away from the ex-crook. She had overheard the reports he gave about guard duty with the Extendable Ears, and he did not seem reliable in the least. So if she had been told an Order member was going to do something as stupid as leave guard duty, she would have bet her copy of Hogwarts: A History that it would be Mundungus.

Anyway, she had never seen anyone in her life seen someone as angry as Dumbledore. The oddly scary part of his rage was that he wasn't ranting and raving like some red-haired wizards that she knew; he spoke in a strangely calm but forceful tone that was only slightly above his normal volume. What had been frightening about it was the aura he exuded. She had walked into the room, and it had hit her like a Bludger: the most powerful sorcerer in the world was in this room and he was furious. Dung was practically cowering in the corner, face beet red in shame. Dumbledore had wrapped up his tirade rather quickly after realizing he had an audience, but the minute Dung left the room, Mrs. Weasley, who had waited in the hallway, picked up right where Dumbledore left off, and unlike Dumbledore, she did raise her voice.

Dumbledore had then told them the whole story. Apparently, Harry had been walking around his neighborhood with his cousin when two dementors had randomly showed up and attacked. Harry had lost his wand, and by the time he got it back, the dementors were trying to kiss Dudley. He had managed to conjure a Patronus, and that was when Arabella Figg, who Hermione had heard about thanks to Extendable Ears had revealed herself and helped Harry back home. Meanwhile, the Ministry had discovered that Patronus had been produced in Little Whinging, and since Harry was the only registered wizard in the area, he had been accused. The letter of expulsion had been sent, but Dumbledore had arrived at the Ministry to postpone sentence. Harry now had to face trial to determine if his use of magic had truly been constituted.

Hermione had to roll over on her stomach so she could punch her pillow in disgust. This whole situation was ridiculous. The idea that Harry would lie about seeing dementors in Little Whinging, especially when You-Know-Who was back, was absurd, and anyone with half a brain cell should be able to see that. Harry was one of the most honest people she knew. Well, Hermione conceded, he has lied, but there was good reason for it. He wouldn't lie about this. The Ministry should be focusing on the fact that somehow two dementors had left Azkaban to travel all the way to Surrey and pay a visit to Harry. Hermione plopped her cheek back on the pillow with a sigh. If You-Know-Who had somehow gotten the dementors on his side, why wouldn't all the dementors leave. It wouldn't make since for You-Know-Who to convince the dementors to join him, leave Azkaban, pop by Surrey to try to capture Harry, and go back to Azkaban and pretend to still be in Fudge's service. Unless someone else had sent the dementors. Hermione sighed again and tossed over to her other side. That didn't make any sense either; who else wanted to hurt Harry besides You-Know-Who? Unless a Death Eater had done it for him.

She fought the urge now to sigh again; she didn't want to wake Ginny up as she had already been making quite a bit of noise. After finding out about what had happened to Harry, she had finished cleaning out the last bedroom; Mrs. Weasley had insisted that they act like everything was normal. But she had found the time to look up precisely what the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery said about the use of magic in life-threatening situations, and had been relieved to find that Harry should be cleared of all charges. She just hoped that the Ministry would clear him; the Ministry hadn't been acting very rationally lately.

Hermione sat up in bed. She couldn't sleep, she knew it. Biting her lip, she silently climbed out of bed and groped around the dark room for her dressing gown. She knew what she wanted to do; the problem was that she wasn't sure she had the guts to do it. Especially if she couldn't find her robe. She was tempted to light up her wand to search for it, but she was afraid that the light would only wake Ginny and she didn't want Ginny to know where she was going. She glanced down at her sleeveless white linen nightgown. She supposed she could walk around Grimmauld Place dressed like this; she had all morning. Hermione blushed slightly as she remembered how she had run around in this nightgown all morning until Ginny had thoughtfully brought her dressing gown for her.

Ron's already seen you in this, she told herself while slipping out of the room. He won't mind seeing you in it again. Still, she was more than a little nervous when she tapped lightly on the door. Part of her hoped that Ron was a heavy sleeper and wouldn't wake up while the other part of her was dying for him to open the door and smile sleepily at her. She bounced slightly from one ball of her feet to the other while she waited.

She jumped slightly as the door creaked open. Ron poked his head out wearily, and that tired smile she had wanted to see flashed across his face when he saw who it was. Oh, God, it was even better that I thought.

"What are you doing here?" Ron whispered.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, hugging her folded arms to her chest. "I was hoping I could come in. Unless you were sleeping, in that case, I'll just go read or something, it's fine," she added hastily.

"No, no," Ron insisted, holding the door open. "Come on in."

"Thanks," she slid past him and perched on the edge of the extra bed. Ron shuffled back over to his bed and flopped back down. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. "I--I guess it's just with what everything that happened today that I'm too wound up to sleep."

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

"Thank goodness Harry is all right," Hermione added after a pause. "He could have really been hurt. Dudley too," she added as an afterthought. Ron nodded, and they lapsed into silence. She pretended to play with the hem of her nightgown, but in actuality, she was watching Ron surreptitiously. He was clearly exhausted and kept trying to hide his yawns, but at the same time was patiently waiting for her to talk about whatever she had come up to discuss. She smiled; Ron was so sweet. "I better go back down," she got to her feet.

"Already?" Ron protested.

"You're tired," Hermione replied. "Get some sleep."

"No, it's fine, honestly," Ron insisted. "Sit down."

"Are you sure?' Hermione asked.

Ron nodded.

She plopped back down. "I should really try to get some reading done," she thought out loud.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron snorted, "You read too much."

"You can't read too much!" Hermione protested angrily.

"How many times have you read Hogwarts: A History?" Ron demanded with arched eyebrows.

Hermione counted quickly in her head. "Six."

Ron raised his hand towards her, and let it fall with a dramatic plop. "I rest my case."

"You know, Ron, if you actually tried reading for once, you might like it," Hermione argued, "Hogwarts: A History is actually fascinating, I think you would enjoy it."

"Would I?" Ron asked dryly, clearly not believing her for an instant.

Hermione leaned against the wall behind her and folded her arms. "Well, did you know that part of the reason why Slytherin left Hogwarts was because he was in love with Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"And she didn't love the snake-loving, egotistical bastard back," Ron asked flatly. "I'm shocked."

"And she was in love with a Muggle," Hermione continued, "That's why Slytherin began to hate Muggle-borns." Ron perked up with interest. "He actually supposedly built the Chamber of Secrets the day that Rowena got married. Everyone was out of the castle at the wedding so he could do it in secret."

"He built the Chamber in a day?" Ron asked in disbelief. "No way!"

Hermione smiled. "See how interesting reading can be?"

Ron laid down on his back. "Nah, it's different. Stuff's more interesting when you tell me."

Did he really just say that?

Hermione blushed and looked down as she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Well, what happened next?" Ron inquired, staring up at the ceiling.

Hermione hesitated. "Well, to understand, you have to know the whole story."

"So tell it," Ron suggested.

"It'll take a while," Hermione warned. "It's a rather complicated story."

Ron rolled his head to the side so he could look at her and flash a smile. "Hey, I've got time."

**

Hermione slipped into her room with a sheepish expression on her face. "Ginny, let me explain," she began. But Ginny wasn't listening. She had just jerked her arm behind her back in panic, but relaxed when she saw it was Hermione. "Ginny, what are you doing?"

Ginny blushed as she sat down on her bed, fingering a letter. "I told you about Michael, didn't I?"

"Michael Corner, isn't it?" Hermione clarified. She knew that Ginny had met the fifth-year Ravenclaw at the Yule Ball, and spent more time talking to him than to Neville. Hermione had talked to Michael for a bit as well; she had retreated over to Ginny after the row with Ron and ended up spending some time with that group. Michael had seemed like a very nice boy, and was rather good-looking. She knew that Ginny had continued to talk to Michael throughout the rest of term, but that was all.

"Yes," Ginny answered, cheeks now almost bright pink. "Well, we're dating."

"Ginny, that's great! When did this happen?"

"End of the year," Ginny explained, "I didn't say anything because it was around the time of the third task and everything..." She suddenly looked up, stricken. "So you can't tell anyone until I say, ok?"

"Of course not," Hermione promised. "Just promise you won't tell Ron in front of me," she added with a laugh. She sobered for a minute since the third task had reminded her of a very important person in Ginny's life. "But Ginny, what about Harry?" she asked gently.

Ginny sighed, tossing her long mane of red hair over her shoulder. "I've given up on him. I'm tired of acting like an idiot whenever he's around. He's been my brother's best friend for five years, and I haven't said a coherent sentence to him. It's ridiculous."

Ginny's slightly frenzied tone of voice reminded Hermione of her own ramblings whenever she denied feelings for Ron, but she didn't push the issue. "Well, whatever you think is best," Hermione said. She gestured towards the letter. "So did you just get a note from him?"

"Yeah," Ginny looked down at it and a shy smile spread across her face.

"Well, I'm happy for you, Ginny. You deserve it," Hermione told her earnestly. She turned to find some clothes to change into before heading down for breakfast.

"Oh, no you don't," Ginny tossed aside her letter and stared challengingly at her friend. "Don't think you can get away with not telling me where you snuck off to." Hermione grinned as she remembered the great conversation she had had with Ron last night; she had ended up falling asleep on the extra bed and didn't wake up until a few minutes ago. She raised her eyebrows happily but didn't say a word. "Hermione," Ginny warned, bouncing up and down in anticipation. "Tell me!"

Hermione just breezed out of the room with that huge, stupid smile on her face.

**

"Wotcher, Hermione!"

"Good morning, Tonks," Hermione returned as she started slightly at Tonk's style of the day: violent violet was not an attractive color on her. But Hermione tactfully ignored it as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee. She wasn't normally a big coffee drinker, but she was still rather tired from another late night with Ron. Ron, Fred, and George clamored in a few moments later. She caught Ron's eye and smiled a special grin for him. She had been coming into his room for the past three nights to talk for hours. It had become her favorite part of the day, and the best part of the holiday thus far. Ron returned the greeting and she lowered her eyes somewhat shyly. She just hoped that he enjoyed their time together as much as she did.

"Wotcher, boys," Tonks chirped.

"What are you doing here?" George asked happily, exchanging a gleeful glance with Fred. Tonks was always willing, ready, and able to participate in a prank.

"Just came off guard duty," Tonks stated conversationally. "Harry's fine, by the way."

"Good," Hermione took a sip of the scalding hot liquid. "Do you know when he'll be able to come yet?"

"The letter we sent arrived just before I went off duty. So we should be able to pick him up tonight," Tonks predicted.

"That's fantastic!" Hermione exclaimed happily. Ron grinned heartily at the news before plopping down across from Hermione at the table. Fred and George sat alongside of him, whispering suspiciously amongst each other.

"Well, well," Bill Weasley grinned as he suddenly waltzed into the kitchen. "If it isn't my three littlest brothers."

"Bill!" the three Weasley boys said in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" George asked with a grin.

"Had to see Dad about some Order business," Bill explained, "And don't even try; Mum's forbidden me to tell you anything." He ruffled Ron's hair lovingly, and Ron swatted his arm away impatiently.

"Bill, arze you ready?" Fleur Delacour breezed into the room to find her "coworker" and instantly attracted the attention of the entire male population in the room.

Hermione wondered if Ron would even notice if she splashed her coffee into his face since he appeared to be so entranced with Fleur that he wouldn't notice if You-Know-Who entered the kitchen and danced a jig with her.

"Yes," Bill replied, tearing his eyes from his girlfriend to spot the other two females in the kitchen. "Oh, morning, Tonks. Good morning, Hermione."

"Hello," Hermione returned, hoping it wasn't obvious that the mug in her hand was shaking and she gulped down some more coffee in an attempt to displace the bile that was rising in her throat. It wasn't Bill's presence that was ruining her breakfast; it was the Veela on his arm. She glanced over, and sure enough there was a dribble of drool sliding down Ron's chin. She set down the mug a little louder than she attended, effectively snapping Ron out of his daze for a few seconds before he resumed to openly gawking at Fleur. Prat, she thought angrily.

"Have you met Fleur," Bill offered, leading the stunningly gorgeous part-Veela forward. "She works at Gringotts with me."

"Nice to meet you," Tonks pumped Fleur's hand up and down vigorously, much to Fleur's obvious distaste. Tonks released her hand and gave Fleur a rough pat on the shoulder, knocking Fleur slightly off-balance. Tonks winked at Hermione before tucking into her breakfast.

"Fleur, these are my brothers: Fred, George, and Ron."

"Actually, I'm George, and this is Fred,"

"But you can call us anything you like," Fred added in what he obviously thought was very masculine, mature voice. Fleur didn't appear to be all that impressed, and Bill just laughed and swatted his little brother on the back.

"It iz a pleasure," Fleur said politely as Fred and George each kissed her dainty hand. "And I of course knowz Ronald. 'e 'elped save Gabrielle." She gave Ron a peck on the cheek, making Ron go as red as his hair and Hermione scowl so deeply that she thought the grimace may be permanently etched onto her face.

Fleur then held out her hand for Hermione, looking confused. She's trying to place me, Hermione thought bitterly. "I'm Hermione Granger," she put in, "I met you a few months ago. I'm Harry Potter's friend."

"Oh, that iz right," Fleur nodded as she pretended to remember. Her blue eyes suddenly brightened with real recognition. "Oh, I remember now. You are Viktor's girlfriend, yes?"

Well, that effectively snapped Ron out of his daze.

Hermione usually loved when she could sense Ron's eyes on her, but now she was suppressing urge to squirm. She forced herself not to look over at him, and just calmly shook her head. "No, we're not dating."

"But you waz Viktor's date for zat Ball, yes?" Fleur pressed, "Zat iz where I zee you beefor?"

"Yes," Hermione conceded, "But he's not my boyfriend."

"Oh," Fleur looked confused again. "You are Harry's girlfriend then?"

"No," Hermione could hear an unusual terseness creeping into her voice; could this woman be anymore irritating? "No boyfriend. Completely single. Haven't a chap at all."

There was a long tense silence in which even Fred and George had the good sense not to make any sort of cheeky remark.

"Yeah," Bill seemed to sense danger, and tugged on his girlfriend's arm. "Anyway, we better get going."

Hermione angrily downed the rest of her coffee as Bill and Fleur said good-bye and left. She just wanted to make a hasty exit before she did or said anything she'd regret, but when she finally risked a glance up, she found it wasn't necessary.

Ron had already stormed out.

**

Ron avoided her for the rest of the day, so when she had finished writing to her parents late that afternoon, Hermione went looking for him. She didn't want to be in the middle of a fight with him when Harry arrived. Harry had been through enough, and needed both of them right now.

She didn't have far to look. He had been sulking in his room almost all day.

"Ron?" she called through the door. "Let me in, I know you're there."

There was a long pause, and finally Ron yanked open the door. "What?"

She brushed past him and sat down on what she had to come to think as her bed. Pig chattered a greeting as he fluttered down on her shoulder while Hedwig hooted regally from the top of the wardrobe. She ignored the pets and stared pointedly at Ron. "I think we need to talk."

"Well, come on in," Ron said sarcastically. "Make yourself at home."

Hermione glared at him. "Don't act like this. You're better than this."

Ron folded his arms across his chest. "Go on then."

"You've been avoiding me all day," Hermione told him, "The only reason I can think to explain your behavior is Fleur mistaking me for Viktor's girlfriend, but I know that that can't be the problem, because that would be ridiculous." Ron didn't say anything, but only began to pace. "You can't still be jealous of Viktor!"

"Jealous?" Ron let out a squawk of sarcastic laughter. "I am not jealous!"

"Then why are you acting like this?" Hermione demanded.

"Because he's from Durmstrang, Hermione!" Ron yelled, "He's from Durmstrang, and You-Know-Who is back, and Karakoff is a former Death Eater, and you shouldn't be fooling around with him!"

"First," Hermione began, getting to her feet and sending Pig fluttering away to join Hedwig in the sanctuary of the wardrobe. "I am not fooling around with Viktor, and even if I was, it would be none of your business. And second, Viktor is my friend and I would hope that you as my best friend would know that I would not become friends with a Death Eater, so it shouldn't bother you that Viktor and I are pen pals..."

"So you are still writing him!" Ron shouted triumphantly.

Oh, good one, Hermione, it was such a good idea to let that tidbit of information slip. She and Viktor had kept up a regular correspondence, but fortunately all of Viktor's letters had arrived early in the morning so Ron hadn't caught sight of Viktor's owl. She hadn't wanted to have a repeat of the Yule Ball argument. But that seemed to be unavoidable now.

"So what if I am!" Hermione finally sputtered in reply. "It shouldn't matter to you!" Ron opened his mouth to retort, but she quickly raised her voice to stop him, "Friends don't react this ridiculously to their friends having a friend of the opposite sex unless they're jealous! So why don't you just admit it, and we can move on! Harry should be here any minute, I don't want to be fighting when he gets here!"

"I am not jealous," Ron roared back, "Friends can react this way to other friends! You get huffy every time Fleur shows up!"

That's not a normal reaction at all, because if you weren't such a prat and would open your eyes and ears to what I'm trying to tell you, you would realize that I'm crazy about you, Hermione screamed at him mentally, but the words that came out of her mouth were very different, "That's just because you fall over yourself like an idiot whenever she's around, and she's a dumb megalomaniac!" Hermione retorted, "So don't tell me how I'm feeling!"

"You're telling me how I feel!" Ron pointed out.

"Well, that's different!" Hermione protested, "I don't know how you feel and since you won't tell me, I'm forced to make an assumption. I just told you how I feel, so why don't you enlighten me!" Hermione's hands went to her hips. "Why are you acting like this? Tell me, once and for all, why don't you like Viktor?!" Ron stared at her sullenly. "Come on, Ron, tell me! Why don't you like Viktor!?"

"He's from Durmstrang..."

"Bollocks!" Hermione exploded, and Ron's jaw dropped at her use of language. "Why do you really not like Viktor!"

"I told you..."

"Ron, I know you're lying, I can always tell when you lie to me, and if you're not going to tell me, fine, then you can explain to Harry why we aren't speaking to each other, but I would appreciate it if you sent him down to my room when arrives so I can say hello!" Hermione started towards the door.

"He's not good enough for you!"

Hermione froze, keeping her back to him. "What did you say?"

She heard Ron clear his throat awkwardly. "I said he's not good enough for you."

Don't read too much into it, don't read too much into it, she chanted to herself as she turned back around. He could be concerned just as a friend. It could be nothing. "An international Quidditch player and Triwizard champion isn't good enough for me?" she asked quietly. Ron nodded defiantly, and she knew that he wasn't lying. She smiled ruefully; it wasn't the response she was hoping for, but it was a fairly damned good one. "You have rather high expectations for me, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. "I mean, Hermione, you're..." His ears were rapidly turning beet red.

Now this was more like it! "Yes?" Hermione asked eagerly.

He looked up and met her eyes, and his eyes said more than any love letter from Viktor could ever convey. Her stomach churned in that frightening but exhilarating way as it often did when Ron did something wonderful, and she felt her own cheeks turn red.

He opened his mouth to try to express coherently how he felt, but Hermione suddenly realized that she didn't need to hear it. Not now. Someday, she most certainly would. But not now; he wasn't ready. She could wait a bit longer.

"You too," Hermione said quietly. Ron blinked in confusion. "I mean," she stammered, ducking her head away when their stare became way too intense for her. "That's why I don't like Fleur. Because you deserve so much better than her."

"You think?" Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Better than Fleur?"

"I don't think," Hermione said quietly, "I know." Ron smiled, and there was a long silence in which you could hear a quill drop.

"Yeah," Ron finally spoke up, clearing his throat again. "I reckon that's why I don't like Vicky very much."

"Viktor," Hermione interjected automatically.

"Whatever," Ron said offhandedly. "Anyway, I just don't like the idea of you and Viktor together."

"Well, we're not," Hermione reassured him.

"And I reckon I don't like the idea of you and Harry together much either," Ron continued.

This was a surprise. She had never even considered having a relationship with Harry, even with all of those blasted Rita Skeeter articles. They just weren't like that at all. "Really, why?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. It just doesn't seem right. Reckon it's not right for best friends to date."

"Is it?" Hermione asked softly before she could stop herself. Ron wasn't as thick as he first appeared, so even he was able to understand what she really meant. His head jerked towards her, and she immediately looked away. She couldn't believe that she had just said that out loud. What was she thinking? She was very tempted to just run out of the room; she was only ten feet away from the door, it would only take two steps to be out in the hallway. But she couldn't; she'd come this far and there was no going back now. She risked a glance over at him. His whole face was red now, and she was probably even more embarrassed than he looked, but she had to keep going. She had wanted to get this far after the Yule Ball, but Harry had walked in before she had the chance. But now there was nobody stopping her. "Ron," she began tentatively, "Do you like the idea me going out with any boy?"

Ron frowned, as if he hadn't really thought about it before. "Not really," he finally admitted.

"Why--why do you think that is?" Ron remained silent for a long time, eyes as riveted to a crack in the floor as hers were glued to his face. "You can't think of any boy who I should go out with?"

Ron's lips automatically pressed together and a slight "m" sound was emitted. Hermione held her breath. He could be about to say "me", and if he did, she was about to be the happiest girl in the universe. But he hesitated. Hermione's eyes continued to bore into him, feeling like that he and she were the only two people in the world. His eyes finally rose from the floor, and their eyes locked for a few, electrifying seconds that Hermione was certain gave away everything that she had ever felt towards him.

Ron took a deep breath and took a few steps towards her. Oh God, this is it, she thought ecstatically, it was finally going to happen...

They both jumped a foot when the doorknob rattled while turning. Hermione whirled around, ready to hex anyone who dared to come in. The only acceptable reason for someone barging in without knocking when she and Ron were this close to getting everything out into the open was someone telling them that Harry had arrived. But Mrs. Black hadn't shouted yet, and she would have been set off when Harry entered the house, so Harry couldn't possibly be here so soon.

But he was!

Hermione paused for only a split second when the door swung open and revealed her best friend. Pig twittered a greeting as Hermione let out a loud shriek of joy and threw her arms around him. Harry had to recoil a step backwards to keep his balance, but she didn't care. Harry was safe.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless--but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got to tell us--the dementors! When we heard--and that Ministry hearing--it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations..."

"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron, grinning, closing the door behind Harry. She had hardly realized that she had been clutching Harry the whole time she had been rambling. But she was just so relieved to see him that all her worries that she had ever thought or discussed with Ron poured out of her mouth before she could stop them. She just hoped that Harry didn't mind; he was as uncomfortable with shows of affection as Ron was. Still, despite her concerns, she couldn't stop smiling as she let go of Harry, but before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry's shoulder.

"Hedwig!"

Hermione quickly took in Harry's condition while Ron showed Harry the injuries Hedwig had given them. She was a little startled to realize that Harry had indeed ordered Hedwig to actually hurt them, which seemed a little extreme. But she had known that he was in trouble. Anyone could tell just by looking at him. He had grown a lot in the past two months, just like Ron had, but unlike Ron, growing taller didn't seem to agree with him. He looked more than a little peaky, and it didn't look like he had been eating well at all. He was slightly paler than she remembered, but other than that, everything was the same. The same skinny build, untidy black hair, thick round spectacles, scruffy and baggy clothing, and bright green eyes...Hermione frowned slightly. On second thought, his eyes did look a little different. They were absent of their usual glow, and filled with anger, resentment, and hurt.

Oh no, she thought with dread, I hope this isn't as bad as I thought it could be.

"--swear not to tell me," said Harry. "Yeah, Hermione's already said."

His bitter tone of voice and the strained silence that followed told her all that she needed to hear.

It was as bad as she thought.

**

"How is he doing, dear?" Mrs. Weasley inquired under her breath as Hermione handed her a armful of dishes several mornings later.

"I think he's getting better," Hermione sighed, "But I don't know. He doesn't seem to want to talk about anything to anyone. Not even Ron or me or Sirius."

"Well," Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand towards the dirty dishes and began the Scourging Spell, "I think that being here helps.

"I hope so," Hermione replied. It sometimes seemed that every bit of spare time these days went to worrying about Harry. His blowup when he had first arrived had been upsetting but plausible after the stress he had been through the past several weeks. Thank goodness he hadn't lost his temper since; she had never seen Harry so angry, and she hoped that she never did. It scared her a little. She glanced into the eating area at him. He was sitting with Ron and appeared to be perfectly fine. He always seemed happy when he was around people and busy, but it was when he was alone that Hermione worried the most about him. She knew he had to be constantly thinking about the impending Ministry hearing. He hadn't said a word about it since the first night, and she and Ron had agreed not to bring it up unless he instigated the conversation. But now the hearing was less than twenty-four hours away, and she could already see the nerves starting to show.

"I know you and Ron worry," Mrs. Weasley continued as Hermione began to put away the recently washed dishes. "I see the way the two of you talk about him." She laid a comforting hand on Hermione's arm. "But having you two around helps him more than you know.

"I hope so," Hermione answered, still biting her lip worriedly.

Mrs. Weasley looked down at her son's best friend for a long moment before completely changing the subject.

"I suppose I haven't been too nice to you, haven't I?"

"Pardon?"

"It's all right," Mrs. Weasley repeated as she handed her the recently cleaned silverware. "You can say it."

"I guess," Hermione muttered in embarrassment. It was true; she had always felt an unspoken, tangible rift between her and Mrs. Weasley from the beginning. She hadn't minded, really; her parents hardly knew Harry and Ron at all, so it wasn't as if it was unusual for her and Mrs. Weasley to not be very close.

Mrs. Weasley simply nodded. "You do know why don't you?"

Hermione faltered. "Well, I didn't think there was any reason for it; I just thought that that was the way it was."

"There is a reason for it," Mrs. Weasley admitted, "It's because you're taking my boy from me."

"Wh--what?" Hermione stammered, taken aback. This was not the reason she was expecting. "I'm not, honestly..."

"Oh, no, dear, that's not what I meant," Mrs. Weasley gestured towards a small table away from the prying eyes of the dining room, and Hermione dropped down in one of the empty chairs as Mrs. Weasley followed suit. "Well, let me put it this way. How does your father feel about Ron?"

"Oh, well, I don't know," Hermione frowned as she thought hard, trying to think of a particular instance when her father had spoken about Ron. "He's only seen him a couple times, but I suppose..." The odd look that flittered across her father's face whenever she mentioned Ron's name flashed in her mind and her frown deepened. "He does always act a little funny when I speak about Ron."

"That's what I thought," Mrs. Weasley leaned forward and patted Hermione on the arm with a knowing smile. "You fancy my Ronnie, don't you?"

"No!" Hermione denied instantly, "Of course not! I mean, he's my best friend and everything, but I don't like him in that way, I mean that would be silly, well, not silly, I mean, Ron's great, he's wonderful, he means the world to me, he's everything..." Hermione let out a long breath in defeat. There was no point to continue the charade any longer. "Is it that obvious?"

"To a woman," Mrs. Weasley answered wisely. Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her folded arms which were resting on the table. Why was it that however as hard she tried to hide her feelings for Ron, that it only become more apparent to everyone else and more people knew her secret? It would be only a matter of time before the entire wizarding world knew that she was in love with Ron Weasley. "Oh, darling, it's all right," Mrs. Weasley reassured her. "He feels the same way."

"No, he doesn't," Hermione replied into her forearm dully.

"He's just shy," Mrs. Weasley argued.

Hermione laughed as she watched Ron laugh loudly and throw an uneaten roll at Fred. "Ron, shy?"

"When it comes to love, he is," Mrs. Weasley lovingly smoothed down Hermione's frizzy mass of hair, and Hermione smiled at the motherly gesture. Her own mother had never typically been affectionate, and she greatly appreciated the sentiment behind it. "He's growing up, you know."

"I know," Hermione whispered.

"He's growing up because of you." Hermione blushed again and shook her head. "It's true," Mrs. Weasley pressed, "He wants to be a better person because of you." She continued to smooth Hermione's hair, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I guess I just don't like my little boy growing up so soon."

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione began, touched.

"I suppose this is why your father acts a little strange whenever he hears about Ron," Mrs. Weasley forged on, "He doesn't want to lose his little girl to another man, but he knows that he will. And I don't want to lose my boy, but I am glad," Mrs. Weasley smiled proudly at the young woman sitting across from her, "I'm glad that Ronnie found a girl like you. You're just what every mother hopes for her son."

Hermione's jaw dropped as she felt her own tears start to bubble up.

Mrs. Weasley smoothed Hermione's hair once more before getting to her feet. "Now you better get off to bed," she ordered in a brisker tone. "We all should get a good sleep, Harry's hearing is tomorrow so we'll have a big day."

Hermione just wordlessly gave her a hug, a real hug, not like the quick embraces they had shared before. Mrs. Weasley returned with pleased surprise. Hermione then stepped back, smiled, and headed silently off to bed.

**

Hermione woke up the next morning before dawn, and just could not get back to sleep no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't stop imagining Harry in some courtroom, begging to be allowed to go to school and Lucius Malfoy shaking his head with a sneer and pointing towards the door menacingly, ordering him to return to Dursleys for eternity. She sighed, wishing she could go see Harry to wish him luck. If she was this wound up over the hearing, she couldn't imagine the discomfort Harry had to be going through right now. Finally, she decided to go see if he was still here, and after dressing quickly and grabbing some things to do while she waited for Harry to return, hurried down the dank stairs to the kitchen.

Sirius was the only person in the room, reading the Daily Prophet uneasily while nervously drumming his fingers on the table. He looked up hopefully when he heard Hermione enter, and his face fell when he recognized her.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said politely.

"Morning," Hermione returned, "Is Harry up yet?"

Sirius jerked his head towards the door. "Left about half an hour ago."

"Oh," Hermione said disappointedly.

"He won't be back for a fair bit," Sirius continued impatiently, glancing at his watch. "You should go back to bed."

Hermione shook her head and set her belongings down on the table so she could get some coffee. "I'm too nervous," she confided.

Sirius watched her for a moment, a nostalgic smile on his face. "Yeah," he agreed. "He's bound to be cleared. Bones is a fair witch."

"I know," Hermione stirred her coffee repeatedly without realizing what she was doing. "And with the evidence and the clause in the Decree for Underage Sorcery, he should without a doubt be cleared, but Fudge..."

"Fudge has his wand stuck up his bum," Sirius interjected with a smile. He laughed at Hermione's frown of disapproval. "He'll get off, you'll see."

Oddly, Sirius didn't seem to be entirely thrilled at the prospect of Harry not getting expelled. Hermione watched him carefully as she continued to stir her coffee out of nerves. "I hope so. I can't imagine life at Hogwarts without Harry."

Sirius continued to smirk. "I imagine James gets you into a fair bit of trouble."

Hermione hoped her shock didn't show on her face. Did he just call Harry James? Sirius was waiting expectantly for a reply; he didn't realize what he had said. It must have been a Freudian slip. Mrs. Weasley was right; Sirius did sometimes think that Harry was James!

But she didn't want to delve into that issue now; she could talk to Harry about it later. "He's not that bad," she replied with a shrug, "He only breaks the rules when he has to."

Sirius snorted. "Where's the fun in that?"

Hermione finally realized that her coffee was more than well blended and dropped her spoon with a clatter. While she took her first sip, Sirius curiously poked across the table at the soft bundle she had brought down. "What is that?"

"Oh!" Hermione blushed as she took a seat and hastily hid the homemade hat. "I'm learning how to knit."

"Nice," Sirius lied, staring at the misshapen article of clothing.

"It's alright," Hermione told him, "I know they're not very good. I just started a week ago, and since I can't use magic, I have to do it the Muggle way." She had gotten the idea after watching Kreacher slouch around the house in nothing but a loincloth for this past month and a half. He really needed some clothing, not just so he could be free but to retain some dignity, and she didn't think she could convince Sirius to free Kreacher; she had been trying ever since she had arrived and had only succeeded in learning that Sirius was even more stubborn than Ron. So she was hoping to "accidentally" leave some clothes around so if Kreacher picked them up, he could be freed. The idea had then expanded to include the house-elves at Hogwarts and her goal was by the end of term to have freed all the house-elves at Hogwarts. An ambitious, but possible goal, she felt. She just had to make sure that no one stopped it, which was why she only knitted after Ron and Harry had gone to bed or early in the morning like right now.

Sirius seemed to be able to guess what use the hats were for, and he only grinned ruefully. "I would love for you to talk with Moony about spew," he told her with a chuckle.

"S.P.E.W." she corrected automatically.

"Whatever," Sirius said dismissively. Despite her irritation at his lack of interest in her organization, Hermione giggled slightly. Sirius at times really reminded her of Ron.

Little did Hermione know that Sirius was thinking something very similar to her current thought. He was looking at his godson's best friend carefully, marveling at how his godson and his two best friends were rather similar to him and his two friends. Remarkably similar, if you thought about it. The similarity between James and Harry was obvious, even if you didn't know James. All you had to do was look at them and know that they were father and son. But you still would know even if you didn't see them: both James and Harry had that natural-born leadership and talent that had made them the instant ringleader of the group whether they liked it or not. And there was of course the skill of getting into trouble and seeking out adventure that not only James and Harry shared, but Ron and Sirius did as well.

Yes, Sirius realized, he and the youngest Weasley boy had a lot in common. They were both the most outgoing of their groups, yet were content to be viewed as the loyal sidekick for the majority of the time. They had their moments of longing to stand out, and stood out they did; Sirius could see some leadership skills in Ron as well, and as for himself, Sirius smirked, well, he always had the skill with the witches that James had been sorely missing. But despite their numerous talents and attributes, at the end of the day, Sirius was glad to be James' second-in-command and he was sure Ron felt the same way.

And as for the girl sitting across from him, it was obvious who she reminded him of. Hermione and Remus were both the logical one of the group: the voice of reason, the one you could always count on to keep you on track, whether it was studying for a Potions test or to plan yet another life-threatening adventure. And although every fiber of their being protested whenever they broke the rules or put themselves in danger, they went along anyway and helped as much as they could simply because they couldn't let their friends go alone.

It's funny how history can repeat itself, Sirius reflected. Sometimes when he spent time with Harry, he felt like James was alive again. And it comforted him a fair bit knowing that a part of him would live in Ron, and a part of Remus would live on in Hermione. Some things like loyalty, reason, charisma, bravery, and the vital skill to woo a witch would never die, not with these three kids around.

Sirius had never had a good conversation with Hermione before, one-on-one. Whenever he had seen her, she was with either Harry or Ron or both. But with Remus out on Order business, he was really glad that she was the one sitting with him while waiting for word about his godson's fate.

And although they didn't really talk anymore after that, Hermione felt the same way. There seemed to be some unspoken connection between them now, as if each sensed the others thoughts. And although Hermione was concerned about Sirius calling Harry by his father's name, she was glad if Ron wasn't there to sit with her right now, that Sirius was there for her.

So, Sirius just read the paper, she just knitted some hats, and they took comfort in each other's presence. And it was enough.

**

Hermione and Sirius never mentioned their unspoken conversation to anyone; Hermione was too busy enjoying Harry's return to Hogwarts and preparing for the start of school and Sirius was sulking that his godson was leaving him. As touched as Hermione was that Sirius wanted Harry to stay with him so badly, she couldn't help being a little less sympathetically after finding out Mrs. Weasley's assumption about Sirius had been true.

After Harry's acquittal, the last few weeks flew by at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was thrilled to be returning to Hogwarts, but saddened at the same time. She had really had a nice summer, which surprised her with everything that was going on. And it was all because she had gotten to know a certain Weasley a lot better than she thought. Her and Ron had already been rather close, but now she felt even closer to him. She just hoped that the bond would last through the school term, and they would find opportunities to spend more time together.

And to her amazement, that opportunity presented itself in a letter from Hogwarts.

Ron had stuck his head into her and Ginny's room while they had been packing on the last day of the holidays and tossed in their booklists. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed "good luck" before disappearing up the stairs to deliver the rest of the letters. Hermione practically flew across the room and ripped it open, handing the envelope off to Ginny while she scanned the letter.

Dear Miss Granger,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

We are also pleased to inform you that you have been selected by the Headmaster as one of the fifth-year prefects for Gryffindor House. Please report to the prefects' carriage on the Hogwarts Express immediately after departure to receive instructions from your Head Boy and Girl. Also note that you will be required to help the other prefects in patrolling the corridors throughout journey.

You will find your badge and booklist enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Ginny grinned in an I-told-you-so manner as she extracted the shiny scarlet and gold prefect's badge from Hermione's envelope. She held it up teasingly. "And you said that you thought you might not get it!"

Hermione was beaming from ear to ear. She had done it; she had really done it. She was a prefect; her parents were going to be so pleased. She was so pleased that she couldn't say a word, and only kept on grinning.

"Harry and Ron are never going to get away with anything again," Ginny continued, laughing.

Harry and Ron. She had to tell them. Or better yet...Hermione's smile grew wider. One of them might have something to tell her. Well, Harry probably had something to tell her. Out of all of the Gryffindor boys, he had the most potential, the best grades, and he was Harry bloody Potter for Merlin's sake. She reckoned Dumbledore had his name down for prefect position from the first day he had seen Harry do magic.

"Go on and tell them, then," Ginny handed Hermione the envelope back and gave her a push towards the door. Hermione without a word raced out of the room and practically flew up the stairs to Harry and Ron's room. She regained the ability to speak by the time she arrived, but not as coherently.

"Did you--did you get--?"

She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek.

"I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It--what?" Hermione just processed what Harry had said. Ron was prefect over Harry?

"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry said.

"Ron?" said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But...are you sure? I mean..."

She turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face. Don't be angry at me, she begged at him silently in her head, her mind still reeling with confusion. She and Ron had discussed possible prefects one night, and both of them had agreed that Harry would be the obvious choice. They had agreed, so Ron should understand why she was so surprised that Harry hadn't been given the position.

And it wasn't that she didn't think Ron was capable. Ron was more than capable; she knew he had loads of potential, she saw it everyday. The problem with Ron was that he had no self-confidence, and it showed. She had thought that that would hurt his chances significantly. Harry wasn't the most confident person on the planet either, but he at least felt that he was a halfway competent wizard. Ron thought he was hogwash. And people who thought that they were below average students do not become prefects. Ron's self-esteem issues also led him to not attempt to try to make himself stand out from his other students. Instead of putting effort into things, Ron preferred to tell himself that there was no way he could surpass five older brothers, so why bother? It was a ridiculous theory, and Hermione hated the fact that he felt that way when he was more than capable to shine on his own.

That was why she was so amazed that Dumbledore had given Ron the chance to prove himself as a leader rather than to give the position to Harry, who was already a natural leader. Not that she felt that he was unable to do it, she knew he could do it. She just wasn't sure that many other people knew, and one of those people who didn't know was Ron Weasley himself.

Well, Hermione decided while taking Hedwig down to her room so she could send her letter to her parents. I'm just going to have to teach him this tonight.

**

She couldn't find an opportunity until much later that day, after the hubbub of the congratulatory dinner Mrs. Weasley had thrown for them. She had considered just waiting until another day, but while she had been discussing house-elves rights with Lupin, Kingsley had come over, and she couldn't help overhearing them discussing that Harry should have been a prefect over Ron. And the awful thing was that she thought Ron may have heard too.

She had gone on a search for him when the party had died down, but was having no success until she found Lupin on the stairs, looking a little shaken. He had explained what had happened with Mrs. Weasley and the boggart, and mentioned that he had seen Ron standing outside the door when he had left. He had last seen Ron walking down that hallway. Hermione had to think for a long moment before realizing where he had gone. She opened the appropriate door without knocking and sure enough, there he was with his back to her.

"Hey," Hermione said quietly. Ron jumped slightly, but he didn't turn around and continued to half-heartedly toss Buckbeak a couple dead rats. "What are you doing up here?"

"Sirius asked me to feed Buckbeak for him," Ron said shortly, still keeping his back to her.

Hermione severely doubted that Sirius found the time to ask Ron to feed Buckbeak while dealing with Mrs. Weasley and that boggart, but she just nodded, biting her lip. She hated when Ron got melancholy and moody like this--he was just so sensitive and touchy about some things. And he really shouldn't be; he was such a wonderful person, why on earth couldn't he see that?

"Did you see what the boggart turned into for my mum?" Ron asked abruptly.

Hermione blinked. Where had that come from? "No."

Ron laughed once, a short sarcastic guffaw. "It was Harry."

"What?" Hermione asked, even more confused.

"Harry," Ron repeated, "Her worse fear is Harry dying." Ron viciously tossed the last rat at Buckbeak, catching the hippogriff in the eye and causing Buckbeak to let out a painful squawk that Ron ignored. "Not Dad, not me, not Ginny, not any of her own children, but Harry."

And then Hermione knew where this was all coming from. And she'd bet her copy of Hogwarts: A History that Ron had indeed overheard Kingsley and Lupin. She had rather hoped that being made a prefect would boost Ron's already fragile self-esteem but now it seemed that the appointment had only deflated it.

"Ron," she said quietly, "You don't think that your mum cares more about Harry then you, do you? Because that's just silly..."

"Is it?" Ron snapped finally turning around, eyes blazing, clearly ready to do battle. "She always said Harry was as good as her own son."

"And you are her son!" Hermione retorted, "Nothing will ever change that; your mum loves you, Ron, and you know it!" She was finding it very hard to be sympathetic to Ron's woes when he was complaining about something that wasn't even true. "Honestly, Ron, I wish my mum was as half as loving as yours!"

"Then why is Harry her worse fear?" Ron countered.

"You don't know that Harry dying is her only fear," Hermione pointed out, "Boggarts are shape-shifters, remember? They can change form at any time; if you have more than one fear, it will shift to show all of them. How do you know that your mum had gone through seeing the rest of your family dead, and then it had turned to Harry when you saw it?"

Ron opened his mouth and closed it, obviously trying to think of a good response. But he couldn't argue with good reason; it was part of the reason why he usually lost in arguments with Hermione.

She sighed as Ron looked away from her, all anger draining from his face and leaving only with that dejected look that tore away at her stomach. She couldn't stand to see him like this.

"I know what I'm talking about, Ron, because, well, I lied to you," Hermione finally spoke, wondering why on earth she was about to confess this to Ron, but somehow feeling that it was the right thing to do. Her statement certainly attracted his attention; his head jerked up from the floor and he stared at her. "In third-year. During exams, when I couldn't finish my Defense Against the Dark Arts practical because my boggart frightened me so much." Hermione suddenly felt as if she had to sit down and she sank to the floor cross-legged, staring down at her jeans. "I didn't really see Professor McGonagall--I just remembered that you had thought my boggart would be a piece of homework with only an 8 out of 10 on it, and that was obviously too silly, so I amended it."

She heard Ron take a few steps closer to her. "What was it?"

Hermione tossed her hair out of her face and stared up at him with a rueful smile on her face. "You." Ron's jaw dropped slightly, and Hermione had the urge to reach up and shut his jaw for him, and keep her fingers resting on his face...She blushed and returned to examining the front of her jeans. "It's funny how alike your mum's and my boggarts are. I first saw my parents, and then Harry, and then you dead." She picked at the frayed hem of her jeans in hopes that it would somehow dispel the prickling of the corners of her eyes. "But the thought of you dying was what made it unbearable, and that's when I ran out of the cupboard." The vision of how Ron's deadened, unseeing blue eyes, the eyes that expressed emotion so readily and tangibly that it made him impossible to hide how he really felt, the eyes that she had just started to dream about at night, had cut right through all knowledge, all reason, all logic that she had ever learned in her life, and had left her only with fear and pain even hurt Hermione two years later.

She continued to play with the denim strands as she sensed Ron sitting himself down next to her, shoulders companionably touching. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought..." Hermione trailed off, this being one of the rare occasions she was actually at a lost for words. "I don't know why I didn't," she corrected herself. She leaned back against the wall so she could look at Ron squarely. "But I just want you to know that there are many, many people out there who care about you, and I don't want you going around thinking that you're somehow less important than Harry, or that we all like Harry better than you, because it's not true at all. In fact--I," This would be a perfect opportunity to tell Ron how she really felt about him. They had come so close the night Harry had arrived to getting everything out in the open, but it seemed that moment had been lost completely. Neither she nor Ron had mentioned that conversation, she out of her fear of rejection, and he...well, she had no idea why he didn't bring it up: maybe for the same reasons as her, but maybe not. It could have just been a fluke. That depressing thought filled Hermione with such doubt that when Ron glanced over at her while she stammered, a huge jolt of nerves crashed over her, and she hastily glanced away. "I--just wanted you to know," she finished rather lamely.

There was a long silence in which Hermione now pretended to be fascinated with smoothing her untamable hair. Ron just stared off into space before opening his mouth.

"Why do you think Dumbledore picked me instead of Harry? We both thought he was a cert."

Once again, Hermione had to pick her words very carefully. She had been thinking about it more throughout the day, and had decided that this was the most honest answer. "I think," she answered slowly, "that Harry isn't ready for that sort of position right now. He's going through this ordeal that neither of us can understand, and he's just not ready. You, on the other hand, have been showing your capabilities steadily and progressively, and proving that you can be a leader, and I think you're ready to take on that role, and I really do think you'll be wonderful." Her cheeks were getting rather hot again as she finished with, "And there's no one I'd rather be a prefect with than you."

A small smile flitted across Ron's face. "Yeah?"

She returned it. "Yeah."

Ron was silent for a few more moments before stretching out his legs, leaning comfortably against the wall. "So who do you reckon the other prefects are?"

And by the sincere, upbeat tone of Ron's voice, Hermione knew she had accomplished her goal of the evening.