"Ron…we need to help Harry."

"How?"

"Let me think…"

Ron and Hermione were sitting, in the Room of Requirement, helpless, waiting for a word from Harry, which seemed to take days, if not, years.

"That's it!" said Ron, snapping his fingers.

"What's it?" asked Hermione, feeling outwitted.

"The Chamber of Secrets," he said flatly.

Hermione nearly dropped her wand. She didn't think of Ron as dimwitted; but he certainly was very distracted. "The Chamber of Secrets? You're joking."

"No," said Ron, rolling his eyes, "I mean – the fangs," he said.

"Fangs? Ron, wha – "

"We can use the fangs to stab the cup!"

"Ron!" said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "Ron, that's absolutely – that's brilliant!" She was so surprised she wanted to kiss him, but instead, she threw her arms around him tightly. Over his shoulder, she saw Lavender Brown staring at them enviously; Hermione let go, seeing as Lavender was clutching her wand in her hand. "D'you know where it is, then?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "C'mon, just follow me – " he grabbed her hand. Hermione felt like flying.

Together, they got up and walked to the door. They came across Ginny, who stopped them in their tracks. "Where are you two going? You're supposed to stay put here."

"Get out of the way, Ginny," snapped Ron.

Ginny folded her arms. "Excuse me," she said. "You-know-who's on the way and his followers could be here any minute now! Not to mention, who's going to save both your necks if you get – "

"Ginny," interrupted Hermione, as Ron opened his mouth angrily to reply. "You don't understand – this is about the horcrux!"

"Horcrux?" asked Ginny.

"Yeah – we've got to –"

"Can't I – "

"No," said Ron firmly. "Stay here. Do your job. Guide Neville, Luna and the others."

"Good luck, then," said Ginny darkly. "You do remember where the Chamber is, I s'pose?"

"How would you?" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "You don't even remember yourself going there because of –"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, as Ginny began to open her mouth. "Are we going to defeat another part of You-know-who's soul, or shall we just sit here helplessly while a war is going on and argue about an event that occurred five years ago?"

"Sorry," said Ginny and Ron simultaneously.

"Right," said Hermione. "Ginny, do as Ron says – Ron, lead us to the Chamber," she said.

"This way," said Ron, and together they pushed the door open and made their way to the chamber.

It seemed like a long walk. Since they hadn't been in Hogwarts in what seemed like decades, the castle seemed unusually large. But what Hermione thought of that was a silver lining was that Ron was holding – no, gripping –her hand. She felt like flying.

"Here it is!" said Ron, and they were in the girls' bathroom, once again.

"Shhh," said Hermione in a quiet voice. "Talk to loud, and you'll wake up Moaning –"

A loud scream interrupted them that sounded terribly like a moan. Hermione sighed deeply and shot Ron a look of annoyance, but he merely said, "Sorry! I forgot she was in here."

"Well, well, look who it is," sneered Myrtle, wrinkling her nose. "Granger and…what's your name…"

"Ron," said Ron darkly. "Ron Weasley. Remember? Me and Harry came here before to rescue my sister, Ginny."

"Doesn't ring a bell," sneered Myrtle. "Oh, and look, you brought that know-it-all cat!"

"Cat?" asked Ron defensively.

"Don't you remember?" asked Myrtle, giggling into her palms. "The little 'accident'."

Hermione blushed furiously. "Shut up," she said, "that was years ago."

Myrtle stood with poise. "Well, Granger, I suppose the potion didn't completely wear off. It's left some hairs."

"Look," said Ron, as Hermione began to open her mouth. "We're just here to – "

"Ooooooh, trying to get through to the sink? That Chamber, or whatever?" gasped Myrtle, as Hermione pointed her wand at it. "Nothing's going to work, you know, except for you dear friend Potter. You need to speak Parsletongue."

"Damn," said Ron. "Forgot about that."

"Looks like you'll just have to fetch Potter, hm?" asked Myrtle, as Hermione lowered her wand.

"Must you say that now, Ronald?" asked Hermione, kneeling down in shame.

"Wait," said Ron, "I think I remember the word!"

"Word?" asked Hermione. "What word?"

"When Harry opened the locket," he explained. "Let me try…"

"Ha! Trying to imitate a Parsletongue. Such foolishness!" moaned Myrtle.

"Open," said Ron, in a horrible voice.

Nothing happened.

"Oh, please, Ronald, try!" squeaked Hermione.

"Open," said Ron again. Hermione sighed and hung her head, but suddenly, the sink began to slowly come down, to be replaced with a deep, slimy, hole.

Myrtle shook her head in disbelief. "You – you couldn't, that's just – " she merely plunged into one of the toilets.

"C'mon," said Ron, pulling Hermione towards him. "You go first, and –"

Hermione, however, stood rooted on the spot.

"Hermione, we have to – "

"I have a slight dislike of slides, Ron," she said darkly.

"C'mon, Hermione," begged Ron. "I'll go first, and then you follow after."

Hermione sighed. "All right, fine," she said. "But promise to stay at the bottom until I arrive, all right?"

Ron nodded and thrust his long legs first into the hole. He looked at Hermione, closed his eyes, and let his arms go. "Agh!" he yelled. He never remembered the slide to be that long. Finally, he reached the floor, legs-first again, slipped over and toppled into a large pile of rat skulls.

"Agh!" Hermione's scream came from up forward; she landed on Ron's back. "Sorry," she said apologetically.

"It's fine," panted Ron.

"Do you know where this leads?" asked Hermione, looking disgustingly at the rather gooey rat skulls.

"Yeah," replied Ron. Follow me."

"And you're sure?"

"Positive," said Ron, his heart pounding.

Together, they walked across the floor, the unpleasant sound of remains cracking beneath their feet. They walked slowly and silently, as if the basilisk was still alive and would be ready to pounce upon them any moment. And then they saw it. There were loose fangs dangling from the basilisk's frightening skull. They were yellow from decay, curved and slightly blunt but still perfect to stab an object with.

"Depulso!" the spell had done perfectly; the fangs pushed back and fell with a thud onto the floor.

"Let's get them," said Hermione, running towards the fangs. "Here – you take these," she thrust at least two of the fangs into his arms. "And I," she added, picking up two more, "will take these. Now all we've got to do is find a place to stab the cup –"

"It should be clear," said Ron. "Horcruxes can sometimes – fight back."

"Fight back?" asked Hermione, suddenly terrified. "Not physically, right? No wands?"

"No," said Ron darkly. "Although the words it says are much, much harmful than wands."

"Well, at least, no one will get hurt," said Hermione. Ron gave her a withering look. "Physically." She added.

"All right," said Hermione. "Where shall we place the cup, then?"

"Er," Ron scanned the room, hoping to find a knee-length spot were the cup would be balanced perfectly. "There's nothing really stable here…just put it in front of the ground, I s'pose."

Hermione nodded and obeyed. She handed Ron a fang and said, "There. What are you waiting for? Stab it."

"What – no," said Ron. "It's your turn."

"What?"

"C'mon, Hermione," said Ron, "me and Harry have done the others."

"Fine," snapped Hermione, grabbing the fang. "This really doesn't feel pleasant." She raised the fang.

"Hermione," interrupted Ron, before she could begin. "If the fang, well – makes you think things that you're not supposed to – don't listen to it. It's wrong. Every little inch of it is telling the exact opposite."

"Opposite, right," said Hermione. "Shall I?"

"All right," said Ron, "stab."

Hermione raised the sword high. Ron covered his ears, waiting for that awful scream, but nothing came. He opened his eyes and saw Hermione, her hands still holding the fangs, the cup still perfectly fixed and good to go.

"Hermione!"

But Hermione wasn't listening. She was trapped into her own thoughts, no matter how she tried to escape…

And Harry and Ron were there. Harry was looking better than usual, his hair for once, tidy, but Ron…Ron looked dashing. He looked handsome. He didn't look like Ron. But Hermione somehow knew she would trade the present Ron for this Ron.

And the other Harry spoke. "What are you doing? Trying to help us with the cup?" he sneered. "Ron could have done it. I could have done it. What a weak, weak, mudblood."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief – Harry, she knew, would not be too harsh like that.

"Mudblood!" cackled Ron. "What are you still doing here, then? Why are you still standing here, before us, looking like a pathetic little mudblood like that, hm? What are you doing? Don't you understand? I don't love you."

Hermione felt her face feel slightly heated. She blinked to find out her eyes were naturally expressing sadness.

"All those years," cackled Harry. "Did it really take you this long? Did you really have to spend seven years realizing that Ron and I are better off without you? That we're perfectly fine, and only used your presence for your knowledge?"

"Seven years," said Ron. "It took you seven whole years. And you still think I like you? Don't you understand? Don't you see? After those sixth year incidents with Lavender, you still don't see?"

Hermione broke down. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Or hearing. Then she remembered the real Ron. Every little inch of it is telling the exact opposite. Ron doesn't hate her. Ron loves her. And Harry – Harry was fond of her. She had friends. She was loved. She was loved by Ron.

"Urgh!" Hermione stabbed the cup triumphantly. She stabbed it more than twice, to make sure it would be gone for good and would not cause any more trouble, whatsoever.

"Hermione!" the real Ron ran towards and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Hermione – Hermione, you're –"

"The exact opposite," said Hermione, her eyes still watery. "The opposite…"

She gripped Ron; feeling him against her body was heart-warming.

"So much for this damn horcrux," sneered Ron victoriously as he smashed it with his foot. "C'mon, we've got to get back to the castle."

Together they ran through the chamber and finally reached the hole they came from.

"How do we get up?" asked Hermione. "It's much to ramp to climb."

Ron scanned the room. And then he spotted heavy, old, dusty broomsticks. "Here!" he called, and he picked one up and thrust himself upon it. When he offered the space to Hermione, she backed away.

"Are you sure you know – "

"Hermione," said Ron, interrupting her. "If I can travel for months with the most wanted person in Britain and not managed to get killed, then I pretty much think I can ride a broom."

"Yes, I know, but the condition –"

"And," interrupted Ron, "I was keeper on the Gryffindor two years straight, beating McLaggen. Does that make you convinced?"

"Fine," said Hermione, her eyes narrowing.

"Hold tight, though," said Ron, his ears turning red.

Hermione awkwardly placed her hands gently around Ron's stomach.

Ron kicked the broom and they were off; Hermione screamed at the thought of being off the ground.

"It's OK," said Ron soothingly. "Close your eyes and we'll be back in the bathroom in no time."

But "no time" meant "long time". Hermione eyes were shut closed, and when she opened them, she was too afraid to look down.

"There," said Ron, and they landed gracefully on the wet floor. When Moaning Myrtle saw them, her jaw dropped.

"You made it?" she asked. "Where did you find those brooms?"

"They were in the chamber," said Hermione fiercely. "You're a rather good flyer, Ron."

"Thanks," said Ron awkwardly.

"Well, whatever," said Myrtle, her mouth still opened. She moaned and then plunged herself, yet again, into the toilet.

"Thank goodness," Said Ron.

"I thought she would never shut up," panted Hermione.

They looked at each other. "Harry!"

Together they ran along the castle to the Room of Requirement, ready to hear Harry's yells. Through all her years with Ron Weasley, Hermione had had the best adventure so far.