Midnight Meeting

There was a soft tapping at the door, and with a gentle push, it was heard rolling open. Ginny Weasley poked her head in, squinting in the darkness. Straining her eyes, she called, "Ron?"

Her only reply was movement, signifying that Ron had probably just rolled over in his sleep. She then heard him mumble incoherently about sugar quills, and she crept silently into the room. Trying again, she whispered with more urgency, "Ron?"

Ginny crept silently into the bedroom, stopping beside her brother's bed. Kneeling beside him, she tapped her brother firmly on the forehead. His eyes instantly snapped open in surprise, but he visually relaxed when he recognized her. Putting a hand to his forehead, he retorted, "What, Ginny?"

"There's a noise downstairs, and I don't know what it is! I think it's coming from the kitchen!" she replied, whispering harshly. Harry, who was sharing Ron's bedroom, tossed his head and his pillow fell onto the floor. Ginny retrieved it, fluffed it up a little, and gently put it under his head again. She managed a smile as he buried his head into his pillow.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Ginny. Go back to sleep." He made to roll over and fall asleep again, but Ginny stopped him by putting a secure hand on his arm. Ron sighed heavily in annoyance.

"Please, Ron?" she pleaded, looking younger than her sixteen years. "Just have a look. Please."

He peeled off his heavy comforter, shivering at the cold air that greeted him. Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed, "I'll check it out, Ginny, but I'm sure you're being ridiculous. Next time though, go get Fred or George!"

"They sleep like logs, and you know it. There isn't any way I'd be able to wake them," she responded, immediately giving her brother a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Ron."

"This is absolutely ludicrous," Ron stated, as Ginny went back to her room. He rubbed his eyes, and ran a hand through his coppery red hair, tousling it and messing it up even more. "I don't hear anything."

Glaring at nothing in particular, Ron began to make his way downstairs. He was halfway down the crooked old stairs now, and he hadn't heard anything that was worth worrying about. Just as he reached the bottom step, though, the unmistakable noise of pages turning was heard. "What in Merlin's name..."

The noise was definitely coming from the kitchen, and so he crept very quietly towards the kitchen door. Now he could hear a drumming on the counter, as if something was repeatedly tapping against it. His heart beating very fast, even though he knew it was stupid, Ron very gently opened the door to reveal a slice of the kitchen.

His heart rate immediately dropped as he saw who inhabited the kitchen. "Hermione, what the hell are you doing down here?"

"Oh," she stated, motioning for him to sit down. "Hullo, Ron."

Hermione sat at the butchered kitchen table with books and papers spread all around her. Apparently she had lit a fire in the grate, because flames licked the logs and papers sitting there. The flames danced off her eyes and created numerous shadows on the walls. She was wearing a white sleeveless top and green plaid pajama pants, and he briefly thought that she had never looked better. Hermione seemed quite unconcerned about her attire, as she went back to reading a page.

He gaped soundlessly at her, and then rubbed his eyes again to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Ron absently noticed that the constant drumming had stopped, but perhaps that could have been his heart rate. After he was sure that he was awake, he looked over at the clock on the wall.

"Hermione, it is three o'clock in the morning," he said, going to the pantry and pulling out a can of condensed milk, cocoa powder, marshmallows and a small bottle of vanilla. From the faucet, he measured out three cups of hot water.

"I couldn't sleep," she began, as she watched him heat up the stove. "I decided then to do some of my homework and prepare myself for being Head Girl."

"Hermione," Ron stressed, with decreasing patience for her, as he stirred the milk around in the pan, "you have four bloody weeks to do your homework and prepare yourself. This is summer vacation - you should try it, its fun."

Adding the hot water to the milk and cocoa mixture, Ron looked over at her. She seemed to be deep in thought, but finally said, "Well, I suppose you're right - but I just feel so helpless."

He hadn't expected to hear that from her, and he told her so as he put a dash of vanilla into the saucepan and a pinch of salt. Ron got down two large mugs, and poured the hot liquid carefully in to them. He also put a large bag of marshmallows on the table to add when desired. Bringing the mugs over to the table, he said, "Hermione, why exactly do you feel so helpless?"

"I don't really know - thanks, Ron," she said as she accepted a mug. Hermione stirred hers with a spoon, and then took a small sip. "It's delicious."

"Thank you. It's my own recipe, actually," he said casually, but looked quite proud of himself. Hermione looked at him closely for a couple of moments after that, and Ron found himself pulling a little on his white T-shirt, and wishing that it were bigger. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes that he didn't recognize, but when he coughed she snapped out of her trance.

They were silent, until Ron finally said, "I know you. I know that you know why you're feeling helpless. I'll just assume it has something to do with Harry?"

"Yeah," she said, lowering her head. A couple of stray strands of her hair fell into her line of vision.

"I thought so," Ron said sympathetically, looking at her sadly. He leaned closer to her and before he knew what he was doing, he had reached over the table to brush her hair away from her face. It was done in one swift, practiced motion that surprised them both. "Hermione, we're both going to be there for Harry as long as he needs us to be. He knows that."

"Doesn't it worry you though? Since first year, Harry hasn't known if he'll see another year at Hogwarts or not. This is his final year, and I want him to come out of it alive."

"Of course it worries me!" Ron exclaimed, draining the last of his hot chocolate. "He's my best friend! Of course I want him to live! He deserves to live! I'm not worrying about it now, though. Not when Harry is upstairs smiling in his sleep. This isn't the time, Hermione."

"You're right," she admitted, also finishing her hot chocolate. Sighing, Hermione began closing all of her books and stuffing them into her book bag. She gathered all of her quills and ink pots, and looked up at him. "I've been stupid."

"No, you've been a good friend," he replied, getting up from the table and putting their mugs in the sink. He stretched his arms towards the ceiling, and Hermione admired his height. "Now come on to bed; I'm tired."

"Yeah," Hermione said very quietly, as he took her book bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Thank you."

"No problem."

They walked upstairs together slowly, and when they came to Hermione's door, he gave her back her book bag. She had that look in her eye again, and Ron was shocked to feel her arms around his middle and her face pressed against his chest. He returned her hug awkwardly, cursing himself for acting so clumsy.

"Good night, Ron," she said, looking up at him. Maybe it was the hot chocolate, he thought in the back of his brain, because he had already leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. She smiled shyly, and retreated to her room.

"Night, Hermione."

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and carried onto his room, where Harry still lay fast asleep. Climbing into bed, he pulled the covers over himself and immediately felt warmth flood him. Ron was just about to drift off to sleep when he was struck with a thought.

Ginny and Hermione shared a bedroom.

At this point, he wasn't sure if he was going to kill Ginny in the morning, or thank her profusely. He smiled, still feeling her arms around him. He supposed he would have to go with the latter.

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