Author's Note: Written for the rwhg_ldws challenge on Livejournal.

"You did it on purpose."

Glaring at him, Hermione crossed her arms. "I did not. I asked you to go through your clothes and pick out the things you didn't want so we could throw them away. When you didn't--"

"You threw out my lucky Cannons t-shirt to punish me!"

"I threw out," her voice rose with those three words, "a ratty old orange shirt that you hadn't worn in ages."

"That's because it's my lucky Cannons t-shirt. I only wear it to the very important matches; like the one this Saturday!"

She brushed passed him with a huff. "Ron, there is no such thing as lucky t-shirt. It's superstitious nonsense."

He followed her into the living room. "I bought it the same day that they signed Galvin Gudgeon as their Seeker. I was wearing it when they beat the Tornadoes, when Gudgeon was chosen for the National Team, when Kingsley asked me to join the Aurors, and when we first... you know. Something you've obviously forgotten."

"I didn't forget," she said, her expression softening.

"I know you didn't because if you had you would have told me then instead of waiting and letting me find out on my own. But you knew you were wrong, didn't you?" he finished smugly.

She was glaring at him again. With a sound of disgust, she sat down on the couch. "It was just a t-shirt! You can buy a new one!"

"Just a --" he sputtered, watching her pick up a book as if to signal that the conversation was over. "That is not even -- fine. Y'know what, Hermione? Fine. It was just a t-shirt. There's loads of those right? I can just buy a new one."

He marched over to the bookshelf, one of several in the house, and looked at its contents.

"What are you doing?"

"I fancy a read. That's not a crime is it?" Searching the shelf, he finally found what he was looking for: a slim hardcover that she loved so much that she owned several copies of it. With a grin, he turned to show her the book. "This is a good one, right?"

She didn't say anything but her entire body tensed as if readying herself to attack.

Book in hand, he grabbed a Self-Inking Quill and not even waiting for her to ask, explained, "I might make notes in the margins, it helps me think. That's okay, right? I mean, it's just a book. Loads of those."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in response.

"Great!"

Plopping down in the chair across from her, Ron made a show of settling into his seat. Smirking at her, he opened the book and folding the front cover back, the cracking of the spine sounding unusually loud in the quiet room.

"You are such an arse!" Hermione hissed, before flouncing from the room.

He watched her go with a sense of petty satisfaction. "Just a t-shirt, hmph."