A/N: Harry Potter and Co. belogs to JK Rowlings.

It wasn't a serious problem, you could tell that. Actually, it wasn't a problem, period. It was a misunderstanding that was now beyond recognition or redemption. Sometimes things are said and, well, done, that makes you really take into account what a person is really like. And this was one se times. Well, in Ron's opinion at least.

So what if Hermione hadn't actually told him? Y'know, about fourth year about her making out like a harlot with Krum behind Harry's and his own back? He would've pretended not to listen anyway, so it wasn't like he'd have reacted that badly and started belittiling her. Okay maybe he might've a little, but only because he cared for her well-being. She must have figure he would have, seeing as she hadn't told him anything. Not a single word in edge-wise, despite the little "just writing a letter to Krum" with a sickly sweet tone. She was so in love with him, and she wouldn't just admit it, and get off the fence. And, a letter. Ha, it was more like a bloody novel the way she sat so elegantly perched on the couch, her nose held up so high you could've landed a broom in her nostrils. She was too cocky about her writing. It wasn't that great. She used too many big important words to make any sense of, but the teachers still worshiped her used pieces of gum and tissues like they were the fountains of knowledge.

"I bet, in the real world she'll just be lonely and helpless with a quill and parchment, worrying about whether a teacher could help her." Ron lamented in his mind. He knew, after school, that he, Hermione and Harry probably would never see each other again, ever. It almost always happened like that. Everyone knew that, so it wasn't like they would be any different. Maybe he and Harry would still be friends, but he doubted that much, with all his saving-the-world duties, he'd be too busy for poor, little Ron Weasley.

"He'll probably be off after Voldermort and having big bashes with loads of people he doesn't even know. All big and special. Stupid git." Ron mused, his mouth contorting slightly. Well, Harry hadn't done anything and he knew that Harry wouldn't have done any of what he thought he would, but he had to have something to clutch to. He wouldn't be so desperate to actually ask his brothers for work in their store. Oh right, he didn't have to work ever, probably. And he didn't have brothers. Ron felt a little annoyed at himself now, but was woken up to the dinging of the bell.

Ron's arms fell to his sides almost as though they had fallen off. Slightly dazed he turned back around to the student that was dinging that stupid little bell. "What did you want again?" Ron questioned, kneading his eyes with the heel of his palm.

"I wanted;" The boy began, as he listed an almost impossible amount of jokes as though it were his school supplies list, but twice as big. "And hurry up, I have to leave soon." He added, narrowing his bulbous blue eyes at Ron.

This was the ultimate betrayal to his own image. His image being a sea green-colored tie, orange shirt with white stripes and a maroon vest, with 'WWW' emblazed on it. Oh, how he wanted to set what he was wearing on fire, though he doubted that would go down too well with Fred and George.