"Ron, what are you doing?"
"Er..."
"Ronald, if you're doing something that could get you in trouble, I suggest you stop now."
"Blimey Hermione, if you must know, I'm writing a letter."
"Oh. Well, I suppose that's alright then."
Pause.
"So... who are you writing to?"
"...no one..."
"Honestly Ron, what are you so embarrassed about? You're probably writing to your mother, which is perfectly alright, nothing to be ashamed of-"
"Oh, just shove off, I don't see how it's any business of yours-"
"There's no need to get so defensive, Ronald!"
"I'm just angry because you practically demanded to know who I'm writing to, even when it isn't even any of your damn business anyway – and assumed I was writing to my mother! What kind of pansy do you think I am?"
"I already told you, there's nothing wrong with writing to your mum! And watch your language, Ronald!"
"STOP CALLING ME RONALD!"
Pause, raise of eyebrow.
"Now why-"
Mmph.
"Because, Hermione, you were starting to remind me of my mother, and considering things, we can't have that, can we?"
"..."
"And for your information... I suppose I was writing to my mum," Sheepish grin.
"Shut up and kiss me again, Ron."