A/N: I really should be working on my other stories. I really should. But I found this drabble hidden in my computer yesterday, and I decided to extend it into a short one-shot and post at least something. If any of you ready my other stories, I'm almost done with NLG. And I will be updating WTRF later tonight :)

That said, I hope you like this! Please review, they make my day :3

The pebbles crumbled beneath his feet as he walked along the shore. Behind him, Shell Cottage was just a few minutes' walk away. Ron Weasley stopped walking and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. The wind blew strongly past him, almost biting against his cheek, bringing with it the slight salty taste that was always present near a beach. Above his head, seagulls squawked shrilly as they flew in circles. The sound of the waves crashing against the pebbled beach did nothing to sooth his troubled mind. As he opened his eyes, the memories of the past few hours flooded back into his head.

He remembered everything he had said to Harry and Hermione, every scathing remark he'd made before furiously leaving the tent that night. He had forgotten about the wards they'd set up, and once he had passed them, he couldn't even make his way back no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he looked for it. It had simply vanished, as though it had never existed in the first place.

He had never wanted to truly leave them behind, but the fear of losing Hermione had overpowered him. He couldn't stand seeing those two so close together, making their next plans. Ron had felt like an intruder, like a third wheel ruining the equilibrium of a perfectly built chariot. He felt as though he was pulling them back. He wasn't of any help at all to them, was he? What had he done to help them except whine and complain? Nothing. What would Hermione see in someone like him, anyways? He wasn't smart or brave like Harry at all. He was simply stupid old Ron, the sidekick.

The face of the Hermione in his nightmares flashed in his mind. Poor, ugly Ronald, it hissed in a sharp voice, so unlike his Hermione's, it's beautiful features distorting into an unpleasant sneer. Why are you still here? Can't you see that we don't need you? What have you done to help us? We would be so much better off without you, you know… you're such a coward, Ronald! Just an extra trouble!

Ron shook his head vigorously. The figure vanished instantly.

It wasn't true at all. It couldn't be. He knew that very well now. As he was leaving, Hermione had come after him. She had left Harry behind and decided to come after him, hadn't she? She wanted to stop him from leaving. If Hermione didn't want him, why would she have tried to stop him? With a small smile tugging at his lips, he recalled what had happened that night:

"Ron, stop!" she cried, trying hard to keep up to his pace as she followed him outside. "Please don't go!"

"Go back to him, Hermione! You two make a nice pair! I'm nothing but a burden; you'll find those blasted things much faster without me!"

"No Ron, we can't! We need you! I need you!"

He had said nothing more, though. What could he have said? The anger, the frustration at being so bloody useless was drenching him to his very core. The last thing he had seen was Hermione's teary face before everything had disappeared in a flash of darkness.

Hermione had said she needed him. She didn't want him to leave. Hermione needed Ron.

Ron's eyes stung – it must have been due to the salty air, he thought, ignoring the burning sensation behind his eyes.

He had decided, though. He was going back to her. What had he been thinking? Harry loved Ron's sister, he would never think about Hermione in that way. Besides, Ron had a feeling that Harry knew what he felt about Hermione. Of course he did. Wasn't he the one who was always throwing not-so-subtle hints at him to get a move on?

Ron felt like laughing out loud. I'm such a git! he said to himself, a foolish grin spreading across his face as he ran his fingers through his matted hair. He was going to fix everything, though. He was going to go back and apologise to them. He was sure Harry would forgive him. He didn't care about how Hermione would react – he knew it was going to be pretty horrific, though. He hadn't forgotten those little birds that she'd set on him in their sixth year. This time, Ron really did laugh aloud. He had been so stupid not to see the signs. Hermione had wanted him for a very long time, hadn't she?

He turned back and started walking back towards Shell Cottage, the lone chalet for miles, standing tall against the gray background, with a slight spring in his step that hadn't existed when he had headed out. He had a long journey ahead of him, he surmised. He was going back. Back to his friends. Back to the girl he loved.

He was going back home.

A/N2: So, liked it? Hated it? Let me know!

-Nadia