Mrs. Weasley's Sugar Pills

As Ron made his way down the garden path, the sounds of revelry from his brother's wedding reception grew dimmer behind him. Bill and Fleur's celebration was in full swing, and the Weasley and Delacour families as well as their friends were having quite a time.

The band was playing a jaunty number called "The Doxie Dance" that involved groups of people holding hands in large circles and moving twitchily in a manner not quite consistent with the beat of the music. It was one of those group dances that always seem to be played perpetually at weddings. A bubble of laughter grew behind him from the crowd. Someone must have fallen again when they did the step that required them to bite the person next to them.

The wedding was an extravagant affair by Weasley standards, but his parents had insisted that no expense be spared as far as they could afford it. The Delacour family, while not fabulously wealthy, was better off than the Weasleys. Ron's parents had been hard-pressed to maintain their share of the expenses. They had muddled through, however. With some help from Fred and George, they had avoided emptying the family coffers completely while not being outdone by the slightly snooty French family of Bill's new bride. Things had come off fine and the reception had turned into a regular party.

The wedding had been held in the remnants of an old forest, in a catering hall maintained there. It was an unplottable place, for security's sake. The grounds were very nice. There were tall enchanted trees swaying lazily above the Druid's Burm, which was the formal location where the ceremony had been held. The Druid's Burm was a place of ancient fertility magic. This was supposedly good luck for any wedding, but Ron could not, for the life of him, understand why any Weasley would ever reckon that they needed fertility magic. He expected to be an uncle within a year.

Pygmy sprites, fairies and bauble pixies had buzzed merrily under the canopy of trees providing extra illumination with their magical multicolored glows as the late afternoon sun dappled the happy couple exchanging their vows. Fleur had been an image of loveliness, as usual. Standing elegantly in her ornate white wedding dress, her Veela charms had not been lost on the gathered throng. Even Bill had looked handsome, despite his heavily scarred face. In fact, his scars had faded to the point of making Ron's brother look rakish, as opposed to the mutilated visage Ron had first seen after Fenrir Greyback's attack.

Ron's second oldest brother Charlie had acted as Best Man, and Fred, George and Ron had acted as groomsmen. They had all been decked out in the finest dress robes that the Weasleys could afford. Except for Fred's and George's, the robes were rented, of course, but still quite pricey. Percy had even appeared for the wedding, though he had not spoken to Ron's father the entire evening. Ron's mother was ecstatic that Percy had attended, and was fussing over him continuously. Percy had barely spoken to anyone else present, and seemed to look at Harry, Ron and Hermione with disdain when he bothered to look at them at all.

"The foul git!" Ron thought venomously, as his foot caught slightly on a garden stone. He stumbled for a moment, cursing under his breath, while making his way leisurely down the path.

After the ceremony the gathering had adjourned for the reception to an outdoor dining area sitting on a hill overlooking a small lake. The sun had set a while ago. The fairies continued to provide ambiance as they twinkled, and a full moon had risen over the forest. The silvery sphere reflected hugely on the still waters of the lake below.

Perhaps the full moon had something to do with Bill looking so wolfish tonight. Bill had been bitten by a werewolf, after all. Greyback had not been transformed at the time he attacked Bill, but some contamination must have come through. Bill had already eaten two full helpings of very rare beef, and had started on his third by the time Ron decided to slip out of the gathering and go down the garden path to the lakeside.

Ron kicked a small pebble of white river rock that had fallen out of one of the many garden beds along the path, and it skittered ahead of him. It must have been enchanted, because it skittered and skittered, staying exactly on the path, and came to rest near a large tree well ahead of Ron. Ron wasn't quite sure why he was walking along this garden path, except that his mother had said it would be good for him.

That and he had to get away from Krum.

"Bugger!" Ron murmured miserably.

Ron had been most unpleasantly surprised to see the Bulgarian arrive for the wedding. Apparently Hermione was not the only person Krum had met at the Tri-Wizard Tournament with whom he maintained contact. Krum and Fleur had kept up an acquaintance and Fleur had seen fit to invite Krum to the wedding. Ron had trouble believing that his eldest brother was such a twit as to allow Fleur to correspond with Krum. Not that Bill could have stopped Fleur. It seemed you could never get a girl to do what they should, no matter how much sense you made when you said it.

Krum had looked dashing in a flaring set of deep maroon dress robes. His confidence and athlete's grace dominating the crowd. As soon as Ron had seen him, Ron had felt more ham-fisted and awkward than ever.

Ron murmured again, "Bugger!"

And that, of course, had led to Ron's completely foul mood throughout the evening. Krum had not approached Hermione at all this evening. Hermione had sat resolutely next to Ron the entire night until a little while ago, but Ron felt that he knew what had been on Hermione's mind. She was just trying to sooth Ron's feelings, and that made him feel terrible.

In truth, if Hermione hooked up with Krum, Ron felt that it would have a different effect on him now. It used to be that Ron would feel completely inadequate in a physical sense. It used to be that Ron felt his inexperience and awkwardness much more keenly when he thought of Hermione with Krum. It reminded Ron about how much more ...mature...

Hermione was than himself in several different ways. It made her seem way out of Ron's league. That did terrible things to Ron's self-image. But now, Ron did not feel the same way. Not since Lavender, at least.

Ron stopped in the garden path to feel the night breeze on his face for a second. He chuckled ruefully, his eyes closed.

Lavender had been ridiculous in a lot of ways, of course. The whole affair had been a disaster. "But at least," Ron thought with a little smugness, "now I know I can pull a pretty girl if I want to." Lavender was undoubtedly a dish.

This made Ron feel better in some ways, but much worse in others. He felt his self-image held up a little better under the Krum onslaught. However, the idea of losing Hermione to the Bulgarian, and being faced in the future with a never ending string of tasty blonde strumpets; that made Ron feel ... desolate.

Earlier, Ron had seen Hermione speaking alone with Mrs. Weasley for a few minutes. Ron had lost sight of Hermione among the crowd after that, and he hoped that she wasn't dancing with Krum while Ron moped around the garden. That would just be too pathetic to live.

Before walking away from the reception, Ron had decided to stay right where he had been all night - sitting glumly at a banquet table with Harry. He had decided he would not make the evening any more awkward by chasing sullenly around the crowd after Hermione, or embarrass himself by trying to dance.

Ron had been momentarily entertained by watching Ron's father and Hermione's father. Hermione's family had been invited to the wedding since Hermione was such a close family friend of the Weasleys.

"Friend," Ron thought with a grimace.

Both Ron's dad and Mr. Granger had been deep in their cups, and the entertainment began when they seemed to attack the band with some sort of song request. The episode had ended with Ron's and Hermione's fathers accidentally destroying the decorative skirt of the bandstand. Ron's dad had ultimately fallen into the bass drum with a loud crash. The fathers' spouses had made short work of that mess, and the episode had ceased with the mothers' mortified appearance on the stage.

A quick Reparo charm had set the drum to rights, the drunken fathers had quickly apologized, and the music had started up again. Then Mr. Granger had attempted to show Mr. Weasley some sort of muggle dance that involved bending at the waste and shuffling forward and side to side. Ron's mood had turned sour again immediately.

Mrs. Weasley, apparently deciding that she did not need to fuss with Ron's father any longer, had walked elegantly over to Ron and Harry and collapsed dramatically into an available chair at the table.

"How are we doing tonight, Boys?" she said expansively.

Ron and Harry had both grumbled two responses of "fine" that did not seem quite credible. Mrs. Weasley had studied them both with a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Harry had looked as miserable as Ron felt. Ron had seen him glancing at Ginny whenever Harry thought that Ginny wasn't looking. Harry was keeping to his resolution not to endanger Ginny by being involved with her. It was obvious, however, that Harry was not happy about it. Particularly not since Ginny had been the picture of dignified revelry this evening. She had circulated among the crowd, being the cheeky little center of a bubble of laughter wherever she strolled. Harry looked particularly annoyed after they had seen Ginny alternately dancing with several different young men and boys of the Delacour family. She had left each of them with a smile on their face after a stately turn of the floor.

Ron felt no better, and Ron had glanced irritably around looking for Hermione. It was getting late, and Ron still hadn't plucked up the courage to ask Hermione to dance. Why should he? With Krum there, she could dance all she wanted. Ron wasn't going to make a fool of himself in front of the Bulgarian.

Hermione had not even seemed to look in Krum's direction all evening, thank goodness. Hermione had sat with Ron determinedly through dinner and for a long while afterward. They had sat in a heavy silence that she intermittently interrupted with painful attempts at small talk. After yet another grunting response from Ron at one of Hermione's polite observations about the festivities, she had walked away abruptly. She had obviously been upset.

Ron kicked another pebble lying in the garden path. Like its sibling, it skittered ahead of him to the large tree at the end of the path.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to have done," Ron mumbled to himself grumpily.

He did know. He had been a jealous prat. He couldn't stop himself. In truth, he thought it was really sweet the way Hermione had tried to make him feel better by making sure she stayed next to him instead of conversing with Krum. Ron just worried that she was doing it out of pity. He couldn't stand that.

Ron shook his head as he stopped to watch a garden gnome wrestling with a caterpillar among the hydrangea bushes. "And how does any of this make sense if we're only best friends?" he asked the gnome.

The gnome jumped back, startled at the sudden question. It lost its grip on the caterpillar, which quickly scurried away. The gnome looked up at Ron reproachfully and dove deeper into the garden looking for its lost tidbit.

Back at the reception, Ron had been contemplating the oddity of his friendship with Hermione right when Mrs. Weasley sat down. Hermione had left a little over a half-hour before Ron's mother arrived at the table. Ron had checked his watch. It was about 10:10 PM. Less than an hour and a half left before the band packed up.

Ron had felt his mother's eyes on him, and had sunk deeper into his chair with a mulish expression on his face. He had pointedly avoided his mother's eye.

Ron had heard his mother make an extravagant sigh. "Harry, would you be a dear and get me a small --" Mrs. Weasley had held up her thumb and forefinger very close together in demonstration, "--a very small glass of ale. It seems my poor feet cannot handle all of this merriment as well as they could when I was your age. I believe the ale bar is across the dance floor there."

Harry had opened his mouth as if to protest, but then had looked around to where Ron's mum was pointing and saw that Ginny was standing nearby the bar. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Harry had said a bit uncertainly. His eyes were fixed on Ginny.

As Harry had gotten up, he looked at Ron sheepishly and said, under his breath, "Sorry. I'll be right back."

As Harry had made his way through the crowd, Ron had turned to his mother and said, "You don't drink ale, Mum...why..."

His mother had turned to him with a shushing gesture and had said in her most indulgent voice, "Now, now, Ronald."

Ron had put a hand to his head irritably, mussing his nicely done quaff, and then had crossed his arms on his chest, a look of deep disgruntlement on his face. Just as Harry had crossed the dance floor, Krum had come up and greeted him. Harry was then engaged in what looked like a friendly conversation with the Bulgarian.

"Traitor," Ron had whispered. Even so, he had been glad that Hermione was not standing with Krum despite her disappearance. Ron had sighed.

In truth, Ron had known he really couldn't hold anything against Krum. Ron was not even sure that Krum knew who Ron was. And Ron certainly couldn't blame the Bulgarian for being after Hermione. She looked beautiful tonight. She looked beautiful all the time, now, actually. Ron frowned.

Mrs. Weasley had sighed again. "Ron," she had said soothingly, "you should not walk around this happy occasion looking like a rain cloud."

"Sorry," Ron had mumbled insincerely, scowling now.

"Or a storm cloud, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley had said more sternly. "Listen to me. Your brother has noticed your temper and it is causing him concern. I will not have him concerned about such things tonight."

"What do I care what Percy is concerned about?" Ron had said flippantly.

"I happen to mean your brother Bill," Mrs. Weasley had hissed. Then her tone softened a bit as she said, "Now you wouldn't want to have him concerned with your ill-humor on such an important evening, would you?"

Ron had been abashed. "No, Mum, of course not."

Bill and Charley were the closest things to heroes in Ron's book, and Ron had felt a bit ashamed to make Bill worry.

Mrs. Weasley had put a look of motherly understanding on her face. "Listen, Ron. I know that something has you upset, but you should let it go for now and enjoy the wedding. These are hard times for us all, but it is important to have a bit of fun with those you love when you can." She had looked at Ron significantly.

"Yes, Mum," Ron had said. He had sat up straight and looked down at his mother earnestly. Sometimes, she seemed so small and fragile to him.

"You know, Ronald, what with the nature of the present situation, all of the tragedy of war and such, you need to remember that we may not have a chance to gather together like this again. We may not have much longer to spend with all of these family and friends...with those we love." Her voice quavered a little as she looked up at him, touching his cheek with the back of her hand.

Ron had suddenly felt horribly guilty for making his mother upset, and Bill. His mum had been right, of course. Harry, Ron and Hermione would be leaving the next day on a terribly dangerous quest, and Ron had been wasting what could be his last night with his family by sulking. Ron had known he had to stop acting so childish.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Ron had said reassuringly, smiling and taking hold of the hand that was touching his face. "I can be a prat sometimes. I'll be fine. Promise. I'll even talk to Percy."

"There's a good boy," said Mrs. Weasley, chuckling softly and patting his arm.

"In fact," Mrs. Weasley had continued, "you may want to go down by the lake below. It is said that it is wrapped in calming enchantments."

She had looked at Ron significantly again.

His mum then made one of her expansive gestures. "I've heard it said that all of your fears and insecurities will just melt away when you walk by the lakeside. Don't know if that's true, of course."

She had smiled up at him in a motherly way.

"A nice little walk might make you feel better, anyway. Then you could come back and enjoy the party."

Ron had looked thoughtful.

She had patted his arm again. "Just a suggestion, Dear."

Mrs. Weasley had then looked across the dance floor and Ron had followed her gaze. Ron had seen that Harry had disentangled himself from his conversation with Krum and was talking seriously with Ginny in a quiet corner of the ale bar. Ginny had been smiling and Harry was wearing a very earnest expression on his face.

"You know, Son," Mrs. Weasley had said to Ron with a wink, "you were right. I don't drink ale...but I think I may go get a glass of wine from the other bar." With that, Mrs. Weasley had set off around the table with a flourish of her prodigious dress robes, leaving Ron in confused silence.

"All women are mental!" he thought. "Even me own mum!"

Ron had taken his mother's advice, deciding to try anything that would brighten his mood. Thus, he now found himself on the garden path, taking a walk and trying to calm his troubled heart.

Ron came out of his reverie as he came to the end of the garden path at the large tree he had seen farther back. It was apparently a Whomping Willow, upon which the Immobulus charm had been cast as a safety measure for the evening's festivities. The garden path turned into a gravelly trail as it wound around the base of the massive tree.

As Ron walked about it, he saw that tall grass extended in front of him about fifty feet to the water of the lake. The grass wavered lazily in the night breeze, and glowing fairies and sprites flitted about the expanse. The sweet summer smells of flowers and the musky scent of the forest drifted through the cool air. The lake was a sheet of deep blue glass, enchanted so that it did not ripple, providing a scene of picturesque calm. The orb of the moon shone brightly in the lake's reflective depths. The gravel trail meandered right up along the lake's edge off to Ron's right.

And then Ron saw her.

Standing a short ways down the trail along the lake shore was the figure of Hermione Granger. Her outline seemed carved from some bewitching fire as the moon cast silver light from above, and the moon's reflection bathed her in bluish light from below. Ron could see her almost as clearly as in daylight, yet the night made Hermione almost otherworldly and ethereal.

Ron's breath caught as he studied her from a distance. She was alone.

Hermione certainly was becoming a striking young woman. She had obviously spent a good amount of time on her normally bushy hair, and it hung like spun silk around her, framing her face in shining waves and curls. Her face, normally frowning in concentration (and with him, often in reproach) was relaxed and she had a slight smile curling her full lips. Her face was bathed with the same fire that shone around her. She was beautiful.

Since her parents had been invited to the wedding, Hermione had worn a Muggle gown as opposed to wizarding dress robes. She had not wanted her parents to feel odd being the only people present in Muggle attire. Her gown was a deep taupe of shimmering silk, simple and elegant. It was cut low down her back, but high-necked in front. With the reflective fabric and her silky hair, it seemed Hermione was clothed in silver. The gown was snug around her body, and showed her feminine form. She was definitely a woman, now, and not the girl with whom he had become friends.

Ron felt that the evening had grown warmer as he drank in the sight. "Well," he thought, "she could give Phlegm a run for her money right now, that's certain sure."

Ron felt awkward, and didn't quite know how to approach her. That was ridiculous, because this was Hermione. They had been mates for years.

"Of course," Ron thought again, "things have been a bit different for awhile, now."

Ron was not a complete idiot. He knew something was happening between him and Hermione. Things were different and had steadily been growing more confusing for the past two or maybe three years.

This past year, Hermione had been extremely upset with his relationship with Lavender Brown. At first, Ron had thought Hermione had simply been angry with him because he had agreed to attend Slughorn's Christmas party last year as her guest, and then Ron had promptly gone off and snogged a girl. He had thought she was mad just because it made her look bad as a matter of pride. Ron had thought he was in the right because he was just going to the Christmas party with Hermione as her friend, not as a date. At least, that was what they had called it. He had also thought that Hermione had been angry because he was making such a fool of himself. He had been wrapped disgustingly around Lavender all of the time.

Anyway, the only reason Ron had gone off and snogged Lavender in the first place was because Ron had learned that Hermione had been kissing Krum two years before. Of course, even Ron knew it was ridiculous to be mad at a girl for kissing another bloke two years off. He also knew it was even more ridiculous if the girl was only supposed to be your friend.

Likewise, Hermione had been way too mad at him over Lavender. She had been mad for months! He had even seen her looking tearful a few times. That simply did not make any sense at all, if Ron was just Hermione's friend.

This came back to the fact that something was going on between them, and Ron had no idea how to handle it. Ron knew he loved Hermione as a friend. Well, they had never really gotten along for any real length of time, and their friendship with each other was really a satellite of their friendship with Harry. In truth, until Ron had become strikingly aware that Hermione was a girl a few years before, she had always irritated him immensely, and he had only begun hanging out with her in first year because of Harry.

But it was undeniable that they had become friends on their own outside of their relationship with Harry. When Harry wasn't around they still always hung out together, and she had come to stay at the Burrow. Also, she always helped him with his homework and let him use her notes. Of course, she had always let Harry do the same thing, too.

But she was always doing nice things for him, and she genuinely seemed proud when Ron did well at something. She seemed even more proud in the last couple of years, and she had done many more nice things in those years, and that was the time when their relationship had started to change.

For one thing, Ron definitely knew Hermione was a girl, now. That was for sure. Ron watched her smile widely, enjoying the night air. She stretched leisurely, raising her slender arms over her head and arching her back slightly. The moonlight caught her arched outline in the form-fitting gown. In that pose, Hermione's feminine attributes were revealed very forcefully to Ron's eye.

Ron thought, his breath catching again, "A young woman...definitely a woman."

Ron looked down at the ground, feeling a bit like a peeper, and then out over the lake. There was something to be said for those Muggle gowns. His heart was pounding faster after seeing Hermione stretch like that. That happened a lot around her now.

Ron sighed. "Slughorn's party..." he thought.

Ron couldn't forget how happy he had been when Hermione had asked him to Slughorn's Christmas party the previous year. Ron had been taken aback that she would want him to go with her. She had had that windbag McClaggen after her, after all. Ron wouldn't admit it to anyone, even Harry, but he had felt like he was walking on air for a couple of days. At the time, Ron had just told himself that he was just happy to be in with the notable "Slug Club." Now, Ron knew it was more than that.

Ron had been happy about it until Ginny and Ron had argued, and Ginny had rudely reminded Ron how inexperienced Ron was with girls. Ginny had also pointed out that Hermione wasn't as inexperienced with boys because of her relationship with Victor Krum. Ron had immediately felt inadequate, jealous and hurt all at the same time.

Ron knew how great Hermione was. She could be a blast to be around when she stopped doing everything by the book. On top of that she was "the greatest witch of her age" as people said, and was becoming one of the prettiest. She would have endless opportunities when she got out of school, both in career and in romance. She would move in the highest circles eventually, if she wanted to. She also was simply one of the nicest and kindest people Ron had ever met. Even Hermione's S.P.E.W. fixation, while ridiculous, at least showed what a caring person she was. She was out of his league.

Ron knew he was no great prize to look at, what with his freckles and frightfully red hair. He was also no genius or great conversationalist, and half of what he said seemed to really set Hermione off; it always had done. Furthermore, he did not have half of Hermione's brains.

Meanwhile, Krum was a world-famous professional athlete, with an income to match. Krum had an even more impressive Continental gentility about him that Ron could not match on his best day. Simply put, there was no competition.

Ron knew that he was pretty good at Quidditch, and Harry had said that Ron could be a world class keeper if Ron could just get his head straight. Also, at the beginning of the summer, Ron had started a thorough physical fitness routine so that he would be in top condition by the time Quidditch started. Ron was already starting to put on a small amount of what could be called muscles, and his endurance was growing fast.

Ron sighed. "That is just a dream, though."

It was a long shot that Ron or Harry would play Quidditch this year. Beginning the following day, Ron, Harry and Hermione were going to begin tracking down Voldemort's horcruxes. That would probably not leave time for any of them to attend school. That meant no Quidditch. That meant he would never get to show Hermione that he could be good at something. That would mean Ron would continue to be jealous.

Ron sighed again. "And once again, that's what led to the Lavender Brown affair and Hermione's long cold shoulder thereafter," He thought gloomily. "All because I felt bad about Krum."

Ron frowned at the lake furiously and began wondering where this "calming effect" was supposed to be. Maybe he had to go closer to the water.

"Hermione still writes to that git!" Ron thought fiercely.

He felt a little cold prickling in his stomach whenever he thought of Hermione with Krum. It was like a hole in his middle. Ron had to fill it with angry thoughts of what he would do to Krum when Ron got his hands on him. He had to hide it with the cruel things he would say to Hermione so that she wouldn't know he cared.

Ron took a deep breath in order to calm down. He knew those thoughts were childish. Those thoughts were also far out of place...if he and Hermione were just friends.

After the Lavender Brown affair had started, Hermione had started acting civil to Ron eventually, but only after he had been poisoned. That was when Ron admitted to himself that something was going on with Hermione.

Ron had been unconscious for a long time after Harry had saved Ron's life by sticking a bezoar down Ron's throat to counteract the poison. While recovering in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, Ginny had told Ron how upset Hermione had been, and how Hermione had sat by Ron's bedside every free moment until Ron had woken up. Apparently, Hermione had even missed some classes, which was saying a lot for Hermione.

Ron dimly recollected several disturbing things he had dreamed while recovering. While he couldn't remember any specifics, the images Ron did remember were of Hermione. Bad dreams of Hermione telling him he was a loser, or laughing at him. There were worse dreams of Hermione with Krum or McClaggen, or some other bloke, and absolute nightmares of Hermione being killed or tortured by Death Eaters. Ron had wanted to die himself in those dreams. Not all the dreams were bad, of course. There was one that Ron remembered as extremely pleasant involving Hermione in a bikini and the two of them alone on a deserted island...

Ron looked over at Hermione again and watched her stand there, absolutely composed. "Just friends," he thought to himself with a smile.

While still recovering in the hospital, the first thing that Ron had seen upon waking up was Hermione with a look of intense relief on her face. It was one of the most pleasant moments Ron had experienced last year. Over the following few days, his time in the hospital had seemed dull and drab. When Lavender had come to visit him, it was excruciating. But the days had always brightened when Hermione had visited; even more than when Harry had done. His and Hermione's conversation had grown awkward and uncomfortable for the most part, except when they talked about Harry and the events surrounding the return of Voldemort. Even so, it had been better with Hermione there than without her.

Ron stuck his hands in the pockets of his dress robes sullenly as he stared at Hermione. So that was the long and short of it. He felt dreary when Hermione was not around and he felt awkward with her when she was, unless they were talking of some of Harry's adventures.

"What kind of friendship is that? Honestly!" Ron thought again, exasperated.

And most confusing was remembering Dumbledore's funeral. It seemed the entire wizarding world was lost without Dumbledore and his quiet but forceful guidance. Ron had felt lost at the funeral...except when he had held Hermione.

She had clung to him and wept in her grief over the deceased headmaster. When he had held her and she clutched him, sobbing against his shoulder, he had felt strong and good and...content. At that moment, he had felt like he was doing exactly what he was supposed to do in the world. He was making Hermione feel better, lending her a bit of strength, courage... and love. When she had pulled out of his embrace, she had looked at him gratefully as if he was some Muggle knight in shining armor. He had felt ten feet tall and powerful and...happy. She had looked at him with a light in her eye that he had never seen before. But she had simply smiled self-consciously and said, "Thanks, Ron," in a shaky voice. She had then wiped her tears and they had made their way over to Harry without another word, the moment lost.

"Friends?" Ron thought to himself grimly, looking down and scuffing his feet in the gravel.

Aloud Ron whispered to himself miserably, "What kind of friendship is it that makes you feel so bloody terrible when they're around, and so much bloody worse when they're not?"

Ron decided it was not a friendship where Ron could interrupt Hermione's musings right then. Definitely not on a beautiful romantic lakeside. Definitely not when Hermione was looking the way that she did tonight. He didn't know what he would say to her, and Ron decided that he couldn't handle another halting conversation or further discussions of their planned adventures for the coming months. He also didn't think he could keep himself from making about five different types of prat out of himself with the way he was feeling just then.

Thoroughly miserable, he began to turn and head back to the sounds of revelry behind him. Just before turning to leave, he could not resist stealing one last look at Hermione.

"She looks so beautiful tonight," he muttered shaking his head, and then he looked up.

His eyes met Hermione's over the moonlit distance. She had turned in his direction and she was staring at him from the lake side with a shocked expression on her face.

After a few silent seconds she said breathlessly, "Uh...hello, Ron."