Mrs. Weasley's Sugar Pills

Hermione heard a sound like a rock skittering along the garden path that led down to the lakeside trail upon which she stood. A bit apprehensive, Hermione turned and peered up towards the path at the immobile Whomping Willow that marked where the garden path became the lake trail. She waited for several seconds, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, and decided it was nothing to be concerned about. It was probably just a gnome.

Hermione looked out over the lake and tried to feel for the calming effect that made the lake so unnaturally smooth despite the gentle summer evening breeze that blew. If it was there, she could not feel it, because her heart was still in a terrible state over the events earlier that evening.

Hermione had left Ron sitting agape at his table. When she had left the table, she had felt hot tears burning behind her eyes. They had spent the entire reception sitting next to each other and had not said more than three words to each other except to comment on what a lovely place for a wedding this was. It had been tortuous.

Ron was such a prat! He sat there, and did not comment once on her Muggle gown (not even to laugh at its oddity) or her hair. He did not even talk to her like he knew her. Ron had treated her like she was some strange and unwelcome guest at the wedding who had intruded on his private thoughts. Ron had barely looked at her! Harry had tried to smooth over the silence with idle conversation, but he was too busy casting furtive looks at Ginny to be very helpful. Furthermore, the three had agreed beforehand not to ruin their time at the wedding with talk of Voldemort or Horcruxes or anything else. Hermione and Ron had found that they had no other topics to discuss.

And then Ron had noticed Viktor was there and any chance of pleasantness from Ronald Weasley was simply lost.

Hermione had known that Viktor was coming, and she had warned him that she may not be able to spend much time with him. As always Viktor was understanding and accommodating and gentlemanly.

"Everything that Ronald Weasley is not!" she thought fiercely.

That was not fair, though. Hermione should have had the courage to tell Ron that Viktor was coming. She felt a bit ashamed, actually. Ever since Dumbledore's funeral, things had been so awkward and uncomfortable between her and Ron when they were alone, that she couldn't bear to make it any worse.

Viktor had respected her request, however, and not approached her. Hermione had stayed next to Ron the entire evening, so he would know that Viktor was a non-issue. But Ron had been thick, as usual, and spent the entire evening being grumpy and petulant.

As Hermione had sat there next to Ron, miserably awash in feelings of embarrassment and attraction, she had thought for an instant that she should go dance with Viktor. That would show Ronald Weasley! He'd eat his liver! She had smiled slightly as she thought of him turning a deeper and deeper red at the sight. But then her smile had collapsed.

"No," she thought glumly as she stared at the lake. "Those days are over, now."

Hermione was suddenly tired of such thoughts and felt suddenly very, very weary of those emotional games that had characterized her relationship with Ron for the past year; especially after last year's fiascos with Lavender and McClaggen....

Hermione's heart clenched at the thought of Lavender Brown. The tart! Sometimes Hermione still felt like she hated Ron because his relationship with Lavender had made her feel so terrible. At the time, Hermione had not been certain why it had bothered her so intensely, which had made it even worse.

Now, looking back at it, Hermione could see that perhaps Ron needed that relationship. He needed the ...experience, to some extent. It had certainly seemed to get rid of a lot of Ron's insecurities, at least. Truth to tell, after Hermione had started to speak to Ron again, she had found him much more attractive and, well...mature.

But when Ron had realized that Viktor was at the wedding, all of those insecurities had come flooding back for Ron. And Ron had been a trial. Obviously, the fool cared about Hermione.

"Why can't he just say it? Why can't he say anything?" thought Hermione. "Why am I behaving like this? I cannot believe that I have ignored Viktor all night for that prat!"

Ron had always been able to cause Hermione to do very silly things. Hermione was growing tired of having so much emotional cost in their relationship without any of the reward that she so desperately wanted.

Their relationship just could not go on like this as far as she was concerned. Hermione looked up at the sky and imagined that she felt the moonlight caress her face. She began to feel a little better.

Concerning her friendship with Ron, a similar thought had passed through Hermione's mind back at the reception and she had come to a realization. As Hermione had sat awkwardly next to Ron and he had made yet another offhandedly rude noise at her, Hermione had realized something.

Hermione and Ron were not functioning very well as friends, right now, and Hermione did not want to function as Ron's friend any longer.

Without a word, Hermione had suddenly risen and glided quickly away from Ron, her arms folded across her middle. Hermione had decided to find her mother and father and ask if they could leave. It had only been 9:30 PM at the time, and the reception still had two hours left, but Hermione was fed up. She had wanted to leave. She had felt a lump swelling in her throat, and crushed it down ruthlessly, blinking rapidly.

Hermione had wended her way through the crowd and had found her parents standing a little ways down from the ale bar, near the entrance to the gardens. Her parents were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Mr. Weasley was peering curiously at Hermione's father in rapt attention. Hermione's father was swaying backwards and forwards a little, bending at the waste, and then turning to Mr. Weasley like he was making a point and everything should now be clear.

"Strange," Hermione thought, and she had stopped to listen.

"So, William," began Mr. Weasley, "this movement produces the...uh...energy...or power (ish that the proper word?) that Muggles use instead of Magic." Mr. Weasley tapped his chin pensively, his eyes a bit unsteady. Hermione suddenly realized that Mr. Weasley had drunk more than a few ales tonight.

"No, No, Arshhur," slurred Hermione's father. "It's a bloody dance, for God's sake. And a lot less dangerous than that ruddy Docker Doo Dance you Wishard people keep doin'. There's no ruddy bitin' for one thing."

Hermione was aghast. She had never seen her father intoxicated before. He was normally the image of prim propriety. Apparently he was a little overwhelmed by all the magical things that he had seen today, and had decided to drown the oddities with the familiar...namely ale.

"I shee," responded Mr. Weasley, who then paused to hiccup before continuing. "So you use Muggle 'elasticity' to help you do the dance, ish dat it? But where are the rubber and cooper curds...I mean ... cooper cords...I mean...rhubarb and copper cords." Mr. Weasley looked proud that he had finally managed to get it out.

Hermione hid a giggle behind her hand in spite of herself, and looked over to Mrs. Weasley and Hermione's mum. They were both purple faced with suppressed laughter. Ginny was smiling distractedly, casting a demur glance back across the crowd towards Harry and Ron's table.

Ginny looked questioningly at Hermione, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She obviously wanted to know about Harry, and probably whether he had mentioned her at all that evening. Hermione shook her head a little with a sympathetic look. Ginny looked crestfallen for an instant, but immediately put a brave hostess' smile on her face, blinking rapidly, as she turned towards some guests near the ale bar that she had not yet had the opportunity to charm. Ginny made her way gracefully towards them. Hermione studied Ginny for a moment as she walked away, and knew how Ginny felt.

As Hermione turned back towards her father, she saw Mrs. Weasley looking at Ginny, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Mrs. Weasley swung that look to Hermione, and Hermione felt suddenly like Mrs. Weasley had read Hermione's anguish like a recipe from a cookbook.

"No, No, Arshur," laughed Hermione's father, his voice boisterous. "E-lec-trish-it-tee. electricky, not elasticity." He paused, swayed back and forth again and sang, "'It's electric! Boogey woogey woogey!'"

Hermione's mother and Mrs. Weasley suddenly burst out laughing; rolling their eyes and leaning into each other like old school chums.

Mr. Weasley continued to tap his chin, perplexed. Hermione's father took in a breath, and visibly composed himself, as if he was going to explain some fine point of dentistry with the utmost care. "It's a ruddy dance, Arshur! You jus' dance in a big group, and make lines, and everyone does the same steps. It's only called Eclectic...I mean electric." Now it was Hermione's Dad's turn to look proud. He swayed a bit.

"I sheeeeee," said Mr. Weasley with intoxicated incomprehension. "And you shay they play it at all of the Muggle weddings, do they?"

"Yesh!" said Hermione's father triumphantly, a smile blooming on his face

"Weeeeelllllllll!" said Mr. Weasley excitedly clapping Hermione's father on the shoulder. "Lesh go talk with Paul Popperpot, the bass player in the band. That lad was muggle-born, so he may know thish 'Elastic Side.' We can teesh everyone here, can't we?"

"'Electric Shide', Arthur, 'Electic Slide,'" Hermione's father corrected patiently, stumbling under Mr. Weasley's exuberant hand.

"Exactly!" said Mr. Weasley.

"Oi! I haven't drunk like thish since I was in Her Masheshty's Navy, that's sure! This brew is quite good, actually." Hermione's father peered at his pint glass, as if wondering if there was some arcane power in the liquid within. "You shed it was Elfish brew, didn't you?"

"Elfish lager," replied Mr. Weasley as he swayed sideways and bumped into an older member of the Delacour family. "Oh! Please 'scuse ush, Madam." The old witch gave the drunken pair a haughty look.

Hermione's father smacked his lips in appreciation as he and Mr. Weasley moved towards the bandstand. "You ever been to New York, in America, Ardur? No? That wush a hell of a port...." Their voices were lost as they made their way through the crowd.

Hermione took the opportunity provided by the exit of the drunken fathers to tug on her mother's arm. "Mum?" she asked plaintively. "Can we g..."

"Hermione my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley as if she had just noticed Hermione. "There you are! And how are you enjoying the festivities thus far?"

"Oh!" thought Hermione irritably. "I just feel like my heart is being broken in half, how 'bout yourself?"

Not wanting to be rude, she said instead, "Oh! I think it has been just grand, Mrs. Weasley. Just grand, but..."

"Oh, I am so happy to hear that, Dear" said Mrs. Weasley. "I was just telling your Mother what a lovely young woman you have become, and how pleased we would be if all of you could stay for a couple of days in the town down the way. At our expense, of course."

"Oh no, Mrs. Weasley, we couldn't possibly..." began Hermione surprised.

Mrs. Weasley continued as if Hermione had not spoken. "Tut Tut, Dear. It is no trouble. Fred and George have rented the whole hotel out for the weekend anyway. They have plenty of extra room." She tapped her chin a bit disapprovingly. "Those boys are getting a bit extravagant, aren't they? But that's neither here nor there. It is a lovely little town, Dear. We can set up wards around your parents' room so they will not be uncomfortable. I know that William has been a little put off by the pixies that keep landing on his shoulders and whispering in his ears."

"But..." Hermione said.

Hermione's mother cleared her throat and beamed at Mrs. Weasley. "And of course, we would like to take all of the Weasleys to dinner tomorrow night at the finest restaurant in the town to repay their generosity. And Harry too, of course."

"That is absolutely not necessary..." Mrs. Weasley began, taken aback.

"We absolutely insist, Molly," said Hermione's mother with finality, and Mrs. Weasley hugged Hermione's mother in gratitude.

"It shall be wonderful," said Mrs. Weasley, beaming with her eye's shining. Anything that put off Ron's leaving, even for a few hours, must have been wonderful to Mrs. Weasley. She would probably cajole Harry, Ron and Hermione into staying through the entire weekend, as well.

"Oh..." Hermione began, sensing imminent defeat.

Hermione's mum continued, a hint of suspicion and motherly martyrdom in her voice. "And it will give me and your father a chance to spend one extra day with you, before you head off on this 'independent study' with Ron and Harry, Hermione. We see you so little as it is."

"Of course..." Hermione said haltingly, wondering what magic her mother possessed that made Hermione feel so guilty in such a short space of time. "That would be lovely...certainly."

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione's mother began chatting excitedly about logistics, and the best restaurants in the town down the way. Their conversation was cut short when Hermione's mother noticed Hermione's Dad climbing onto the band stand to better teach the bassist how to play "The Electric Slide." Mr. Weasley was standing at the base of the bandstand shouting, "Attaboy, William! Show Him!" The band looked a little non-plussed. They obviously did not want to offend the man who was paying their fee for their performance and who was, at that moment, egging on the Muggle interloper. Hermione's mother went off quickly to re-establish order, muttering something about "schoolboys."

"Oh, Well," Hermione had thought to herself. "It only makes sense that I stay tonight. Anyway, it's not like I could really abandon Harry and Ron. That prat makes me do and think such stupid things! Of course I will have to stay, even if Ron is a childish, rude, horse's..."

"You know, Dear," Mrs. Weasley had whispered in her ear looking towards the bandstand with an indulgent smile on her face, "they never really grow up. They just get bigger and hairier and learn to keep their mouths shut a bit more when they should."

"Hmmm," Hermione thought with a grimace. "My problem right now is that mine isn't saying anything."

"Don't worry, Hermione, Ron will come around," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly.

Hermione gasped and tried to remember whether she had said her last thought aloud. Hermione looked up at Mrs. Weasley, wondering if Mrs. Weasley had used Legillimency on Hermione without Hermione knowing it.

"Please, Child, don't look at me like that. I am the mother of seven children and six of them boys. I can tell when one of them is heartsick...even when they don't know it yet," She had then smiled at Hermione in a motherly way.

Hermione lowered her gaze, a bit embarrassed. "Are Ron and I that obvious?"

"Well, no Dear," Mrs. Weasley had smiled. "It is only obvious if someone is standing in your general vicinity."

Hermione felt relief warring with chagrin. At last! Someone she could talk to about this!

"But it is Ron's Mother!" she had thought, alarmed.

Hermione had said, "The worst thing is we are still just friends, but we can't talk anymore unless we talk about Harry or...or...You-Know-Who. Ron won't talk to me anymore! He just sat there shoveling food in his face and didn't say two words to me all night!"

Mrs. Weasley had chuckled under her breath, an exasperated look on her face. "My ickle Ronny does like his food, doesn't he? I could never get him to show proper manners in any situation, but most definitely never at meal times."

Hermione had smiled. "Definitely not then," agreed Hermione.

"Well, Dear, of course he is not speaking to you right now. You are a vision of loveliness tonight, aren't you?" Mrs. Weasley had reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair out of Hermione's face. "What with that beautiful...gown, is it?...yes, that beautiful gown, and you being grown up, now...in all the ways boys notice."

Mrs. Weasley had waggled her eyebrows at Hermione with a mischievous grin on her face. It had struck Hermione at that moment how much Fred and George favored Mrs. Weasley.

"Of course he won't talk to you now, Dear. Men are all quite simple physical creatures in a lot of ways, when they are not being so unnervingly confusing, at least."

Some other merry makers, friends of Bill's from work Hermione thought, had crowded around where Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were talking. Mrs. Weasley drew Hermione a bit towards the garden path that had been behind where the Weasleys and Grangers had been chatting, for a bit more privacy. They stood at the edge of the path where they could still see the bandstand and the antics of the patriarchs of the Weasley and Granger households.

Once they were far enough from prying eyes or listening ears, Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath, as if she was about to express something of profound importance. Hermione still felt a little uncomfortable about having a candid conversation about her love life with the mother of the primary subject of her love life.

"Hermione," began Mrs. Weasley, "boys Ron's age...and I know he is of age, now, and technically a man, but as I said earlier, Dear, they never really stop being boys...well, they are a little bit behind us, don't you think?"

Hermione looked at her quizzically, still uncomfortable.

Mrs. Weasley continued. "What I mean, Dear, is that they are a bit immature compared to us at your age, aren't they?" Mrs. Weasley glanced over at the bandstand. "At any age, really."

Hermione nodded, thoughtful.

"I think Ron is not speaking to you because he is afraid of what he is going to say to you, with you being so beautiful, now. He doesn't want to make himself vulnerable."

Hermione felt her face flush, pleased at the compliment, but continued to look Mrs. Weasley in the eye.

Mrs. Weasley was looking at Hermione in an appraising way, with that little smile at the corner of her mouth again. "And of course," continued Mrs. Weasley, "at your age, you are only now being able to show some womanly confidence, instead of a girl's shyness."

Mrs. Weasley let out another sound of profound motherly exasperation before looking out at the garden and going on. "That poor boy has always had a bit of an inferiority complex, you know. Comes from having so many older brothers, I think. They were always a little hard on Ron, especially Fred and George."

Hermione agreed with Mrs. Weasley about that. Fred and George always did tease Ron a bit harshly as far as Hermione was concerned. But in the last year or so, Ron did seem to give as good as he got. Hermione shook her head slightly, realizing Mrs. Weasley had continued.

"...and he doesn't want to ruin your friendship, and he doesn't want to say something to make you angry in case you don't feel the same way," Mrs. Weasley had finished.

"How do you know all this?" Hermione had said, incredulous.

Mrs. Weasley had given her another mischievous grin. "He is his father's son, isn't he? That is what Arthur told me took him so long. As for you, well...you look a lot like I felt when I was waiting for Arthur to pluck up the courage to tell me he cared for me. Don't give up on him, Dear. I didn't, and look at the wonderful reward I reaped for my troubles."

Mrs. Weasley had gestured grandly towards the bandstand. At that moment, Mr. Weasley was attempting to climb up with Hermione's father. Mr. Weasley had slipped and found himself thoroughly entangled in the decorative skirt wrapped around the base of the bandstand. Mr. Weasley had looked at the entangling fabric as if he intended to engage it in mortal battle. People in the crowd had begun laughing at the antics of the two fathers. Hermione's mother, mortified, was making sharp gestures at Hermione's father.

Hermione had just blinked, amazed at the breadth of Mrs. Weasley's understanding.

"And of course, in your situation, there is Harry to consider." Mrs. Weasley had said, a brief flutter of fear crossing her face as her eyes darted to Ginny, then Mrs. Weasley shook her head almost imperceptibly and continued. "You and Ron do have a mutual friend who might find the idea of you two together a bit unnerving."

"I had considered that, as well," Hermione had said despairingly. "I don't think Ron would do anything that would jeopardize his friendship with Harry." Hermione had sighed again. "Not that I would either."

"Well, I think that is something that would work itself out, don't you?" said Mrs. Weasley, patting Hermione's arm. "You and Ron are such good friends of Harry's, I don't think he could begrudge you any happiness. Knowing Ron and Harry, I don't think Ron is as worried about that as you are. Particularly after Ron gave his consent to..." and Mrs. Weasley had looked significantly towards Ginny standing by the ale bar.

Hermione had been dumbstruck. None of them had ever told any of the other Weasleys what had happened last year between Harry and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley knew everything; that was all there was to it. She was omniscient.

"She can help!!" Hermione had thought desperately, her restraint breaking. Mrs. Weasley simply smiled that motherly smile again; a very knowing smile.

Hermione blurted everything out in a rush. "Well, what do you think I should do, Mrs. Weasley? I am so confused...I don't know...I mean ever since Ron was in the hospital after the bezoar I've known, but how do I tell him? How do you tell someone you've been best friends with for six years? How do you make them understand that things are different?"

As Hermione went along she had felt herself getting more and more flustered. To Hermione's horror, those hot tears behind her eyes had begun to overflow. She felt herself shaking with repressed emotion.

"What is wrong with me?" she thought angrily. "This is not me to go to pieces like this in front of everyone...to snub a good friend like Viktor...to act a simpering girl. I'm going to kill Ron when I get my hands on him!" Ron had always made her act in a most un-Hermione-ish way.

Mrs. Weasley had quickly dug into her pocket for a crisp clean handkerchief, and Hermione had heard her say under her breath, "Quite a bit before the hospital, I think,"

Once the handkerchief was out Mrs. Weasley said, "Listen, Dear, you must never let them see how upset they make you. Men can act simply foul when they think they have a girl wrapped around their finger; at least until you have him wrapped around your little finger." She had smiled again in commiseration.

Mrs. Weasley had quickly dried Hermione's tears and left Hermione without even a smudge of her light makeup. "You need to calm yourself, Hermione. You will not do yourself or Ron any good in this state."

"I know," Hermione said a little heatedly, and then continued with after yet another sigh. "I don't know, Mrs. Weasley. I just feel as if I can't be friends with him anymore. It's too...too..." She felt more tears threatening and a sob building in the back of her throat.

Mrs. Weasley looked alarmed. "Oh no, Dear!" Mrs. Weasley said. "You must remain his friend no matter what! You are his most capable friend! Harry seems like he can do anything sometimes, but he has so much to look after. I couldn't bear it if I knew you weren't looking after my Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley looked like she might start crying now.

Hermione felt a bit ashamed. Hermione also felt complimented by Mrs. Weasley's confidence in her. "Of course I'll stay friends with him, Mrs. Weasley. It would just be so hard if...if...if nothing ever happened." Hermione let out a disconsolate sniffle.

Mrs. Weasley had regained her composure and wiped a new tear from Hermione's eye. "Take a deep breath, Hermione. You need to calm yourself a bit."

Mrs. Weasley had then taken both of Hermione's hands and looked at her as if she had something vital to impart, and Hermione had looked at Mrs. Weasley expectantly through slightly puffy eyes.

"Hermione," began Mrs. Weasley taking a deep breath, "with the situation in the world today, we need steadfast courage and hope and love. I see that in you. I see that in all three of you, but especially in you. I have watched you grow each year from a girl to a woman, and I have watched your friendship with my son evolve as he has become a man. I have watched and been pleased."

Mrs. Weasley had smiled at Hermione again, a smile tinged with a touch of loss, and Hermione had felt a strong burst of affection for the older woman.

"And, Dear, the greatest of all of our needs is love, especially with what you and your friends are attempting."

The two had stood in silence for a few more minutes. Hermione had felt comforted and understood, but still shaky and uncertain and a bit overwhelmed by Mrs. Weasley's confidence in her. Hermione also wondered how much Mrs. Weasley knew about what she and Harry and Ron were attempting. That was supposed to be a secret.

Mrs. Weasley had looked at Hermione sympathetically as Hermione let out another sniffle. Mrs. Weasley had gestured towards the garden path ahead of them and said, "Perhaps a walk would do you well. This garden is quite lovely, don't you think? The lake below is enchanted to remain calm. It is said to have a very soothing influence for these types of ills, due to its enchantment. Perhaps you should walk down there and take some time to compose yourself. You can then think more clearly about what to do. Often, when we calm down, an insoluble problem becomes as easy as baking a cake." Mrs. Weasley had beamed at Hermione hopefully, snapping her fingers.

"I don't even know how to bake!" squeaked Hermione, feeling a bit ridiculous.

"My goodness, dear, you do have it bad, don't you," Mrs. Weasley had chortled. "First, we calm down ... at the lake, Dear."

Hermione had looked up at Mrs. Weasley as if Mrs. Weasley contained all the secrets in the universe within her skull as Mrs. Weasley continued. "Second, when you have an opportunity, you tell him you don't want to be friends with him anymore."

Hermione opened her mouth in protest, "But you just said..."

Mrs. Weasley had laughed outright. "I know what I said, Silly Girl," said Mrs. Weasley gleefully. "Can you think of anything that would flay Ron so much? While he is still standing there stammering --" Mrs. Weasley's eyes twinkled, "-- well, you do what comes naturally."

Hermione had gasped, "But I couldn't! How do I....but I..."

"Now now, Dear, do as I say." Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione's cheek one more quick swipe of the handkerchief for good measure. "It will all be fine in the end, I'm sure. Down to the lake with you. Go on, now, off with you."

Suddenly there was aloud CRASH from the band stand. Mrs. Weasley had turned, ready to deal out justice, as Hermione haltingly backed further down the garden path.

"ARTHUR!!" Mrs. Weasley had suddenly roared, no longer amused. "Get OUT of that drum set! How did you fall in there anyway!? Put your wand away, you Silly Man! You can't repair anything in your condition." Then she had gone.

Now standing by the lakeside, thinking about her conversation with Mrs. Weasley, Hermione listened to the soothing night breeze. She noticed she could hear the night very clearly around her. It was almost like the enchantment that kept the lake so smooth also carried sound around and across it without diminution. Hermione thought an imperturbable charm would do that, but it would have no effect on the emotions, and Mrs. Weasley had said this lake had a calming and encouraging effect.

"Leave it to me to analyze a charm at a time like this," thought Hermione ruefully.

Now that she thought about it, Hermione did feel a calming influence from the scene before her. The night air caressed her face, and Hermione suddenly felt very luxurious, indeed. Mrs. Weasley had given good advice, for certain. She smiled widely.

It seemed very clear to Hermione now. Simply tell Ron that she did not want to be friends with him anymore. That would set him stammering just like Mrs. Weasley had said. It would also pull the carpet out of one of the major protests he could have...that they were supposed to be friends. Perhaps while he was still stammering, Hermione could grab him and kiss him.

Hermione stretched leisurely, arching her back slightly at the thought. She felt tingly all over at just the imagining of it. And if they were not friends anymore, there was no reason she couldn't kiss Ron all the time ... among other things.

Her face heated a bit, and she shook her head incredulously. If anyone had told her three years earlier that she would be standing on a romantic lakeside dreaming of kissing Ronald Weasley, she would have told them they belonged in Saint Mungo's mental ward.

"How did it happen?" she thought.

Hermione knew she was in love with Ron. She had realized it last term when she had been told Ron had been poisoned. She had never felt so horrible in her entire life. All she could think about was how she had not talked to Ron for months, and how he would die thinking she hated him. Hermione found herself running pell-mell through the halls of Hogwarts to the hospital wing. She had never run so fast in her life. She had run up to Harry, and grabbed him by his shirt demanding to know where Ron was.

She had then stood outside the hospital room waiting for Madam Pomfrey to allow them in to see Ron. Hermione had felt absolutely desolate.

She had later entered Ron's hospital room, aghast at Ron's condition. She found herself sitting by his bedside, using all of her restraint to keep from weeping in front of the others gathered there. She had utterly and instantly forgiven him for every insensitive thing he had done, and for Lavender Brown, and for being a prat half of the time. For everything.

She had sat there staring at him in his bed and she forgave him for every time he didn't study like he should, and for every time he failed to take notes because he knew he could use hers, for every time he had asked her to "correct" his homework, and for every time he had done the slightest thing not altogether right.

She had forgiven him for being so quick to make friends while she had always been shy and put people off. She forgave him for being so jealous of Viktor Krum, which always made her feel warm inside. She forgave him for being so funny and adorable when he was flummoxed. She forgave him for being so casually sweet at times. She forgave him for being so brave and self-sacrificing in situations where she felt petrified. She forgave him for always standing up for her in all those situations where she should have stood up for herself. She forgave him for always making her laugh inside when she wanted to be mad at him. She forgave him for making her care so much about him. She could forgive him anything, if he would just LIVE.

"Please, please live, Ron, please live," she had thought to herself repeatedly. "Please, please live."

The conversation of the others in the room had washed over her, and she had paid little attention. Somebody had said something that sparked interest in her, however, and she had quietly responded. She didn't even remember what had been said, now. It had been the first time she had said anything since entering that room. Then Ron had done it.

"ER-MY-NEE," Ron had muttered at the sound of her voice.

Hermione's heart had exploded in her chest. She was in love. Hermione Granger was in love with Ronald Weasley. At that moment she knew that she loved Ron so deeply and hopelessly that she would ... well she didn't know what she'd do, but whatever it was, it would involve loving him. She had sat there shaking silently among the crowd of onlookers as her emotions coursed through her and feelings that had been growing for years, that she had repressed so thoroughly, flooded through her like fire and ice ... crushing ... exhilarating. She had felt the room spin around her, and she had sat in the chair by his bedside, silently riding a torrent of emotion that threatened to drown her...to inundate her...to lift her to the sky.

He had responded to her and he would live. Somebody had said that...yes they had definitely said that. They had said Ron would be okay. Her Ron. He had heard her. Among all the people in the room, among all the people talking around him, he had heard her and said her name. He would be okay. He was not going to die. He had heard Hermione, and Hermione loved him.

Now Hermione stood at the lakeside, remembering that wonderful terrible moment of awareness and she continued to smile. She certainly was not friends with Ron anymore. She could not be. Hermione just had to tell him that...

Hermione heard the sound of a shoe scuffing gravel. It sounded close, but far away at the same time. A sound she would not have heard but for the enchantment on the lake. She spun her head around and saw Ron standing there in the moonlight.

Ron muttered at his feet, his voice sounding despairing, carrying through the enchantment, "What kind of friendship is it that makes you feel so bloody terrible when they're around, and so much bloody worse when they are not?"

Was he talking about her? Was that the way she made him feel. Ron's voice sounded so despairing! Was it possible that she made Ron feel as bloody miserable as he made her feel? Was he thinking of chucking their friendship too? Was that good or bad?

Hermione felt like her head would explode at any moment.

Ron looked sad as he stared down at his shoe scuffing the gravel. The moonlight above seemed to edge his black dress robes with a nimbus of thin blue lights. The outline showed his broad shoulders and thickening chest and his long, strong limbs.

"He is so tall, now!" thought Hermione.

The moonlight set his long ginger hair aflame, and with his head bent his hair cast deep shadows over the fair skin of his face. From the set of his feet, she could tell he had been standing there awhile.

He seemed about to turn away when she heard him mutter, his words brought to her magically, "She looks so beautiful tonight." And he looked straight at her.

Hermione stood there, pole-axed, her eyes wide in shock. He had been talking about her! He thought she was beautiful! His bright blue eyes seemed to outshine the moon as they turned round. His face turned crimson as he stood there, adorably surprised to see her looking at him.

"He has been watching me!" she thought, elated.

Hermione's calm mood seemed to jump out of her and take a dive right back into the lake from whence it came. What had Mrs. Weasley said to do? Oh, she couldn't bother with that now! Ron was standing right there, and he had been watching her. Now if she could only get him to talk to her.

"Say something, you idiot!" she thought, upbraiding herself or Ron, not really sure which.

"Uh...hello, Ron," said Hermione breathlessly.