Hi, there. This is a Ron/Hermione oneshot set in their sixth year, which highlights Ron and Hermione's relationship when Harry isn't around to see. They aren't always fighting, you know. Beta'd by Eridanus. Thanks, E. Hope you enjoy.

Dependable

Hermione was walking back to the Gryffindor common room, hands in the pockets of her robes and her face in a strange expression of satisfaction. Professor Vector had assured her that she had done brilliant work in her Arithmancy essay – praise which accounted for the pleased facial expression – and now, with her worries soothed, she was free to spend a homework-free afternoon. When one had the foresight to see that, seeing as tomorrow was the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it would be nigh on impossible to get even the shortest, simplest essay done in the common room. Therefore, she had been straining herself in the library at every spare moment, working to her maximum capacity to get all of her work done so that she could enjoy the party that would be raging in the common room. However, she realised, Ron was not one of those people with foresight, and therefore she would quite likely spend the evening in a corner, with a bottle of Butterbeer wedged into the chair between Ron's essays and a few reference books, as she corrected it and tried to ignore his shouted thanks over the noise of the partying Gryffindors. Of course, she was only guessing.

The Fat Lady obviously noticed the mood that was apparent on her face, because she gave a knowing smirk and said, "Gotten another good mark, Hermione?"

"Not yet," said Hermione, smiling slightly. "Bubotuber pus."

"Correct, as always," said the Fat Lady with a vague sigh, swinging open to admit her into the common room.

Ron was standing at the top of the stairs that led to the boys' dormitory, looking very confused.

"Something wrong, Ron?" she asked, as he climbed down to her.

They walked over and sat on the good sofa in front of the fire, and Ron tilted his head. "Harry's gone mad."

"Tell me something I don't know," she muttered. "Using that book... not taking it to Professor McGonagall..."

"No, he's really gone off his rocker this time," argued Ron. "He raced in, took my Potions book, and ran away again."

"Potions book?" asked Hermione, her brows furrowing as if in deep thought. However, it didn't take much deep thought to deduce that something had gone wrong with the Prince's book. "Ron, somebody must have found out! He must have taken yours to show them or something! Oh, this is bad, this is very bad... I told him, didn't I? I told him that this book was no good, and now he's going to get in trouble... oh, what if he gets expelled?"

"Calm down, 'Mione," said Ron, attempting to be soothing as he placed an awkward hand as she stressed.

"And you," she accused, "always siding with him and gushing on about this Prince person. Just when I could have done with some support! For all we know, this is another Firebolt, but this time it's really dangerous!"

"I think it is really dangerous," Ron admitted quietly. "He was covered in blood."

"Blood?" Hermione jumped to her feet and started to pace. "Blood... the book's taken him over. Harry killed someone, I know he has! Oh, now he's really going to be expelled... he's killed someone... I can't believe he's killed someone..."

"Hermione!" snapped Ron. "Get a grip! Harry wouldn't do that."

Hermione was utterly panicked by now. "Ginny wouldn't usually strangle chickens, would she? But she did, didn't she?"

"Oh, shut up," he said, scowling slightly.

"You shut up, Ronald. I'm trying to rant here. The least you could do is give me some support."

"Support? I-"

"Be quiet, Ronald. I'm trying to think." She took her seat again and began to rub her temples. Ron was too afraid to speak. Suddenly, she glanced up. "Okay, I need to get to the library. I'm sure I've read something about possessing books."

"Erm... right then."

She scurried off to the library, and spent an hour looking for the book she was sure she'd read. She returned to the common room, disgruntled.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What is it with this library?"

"Perhaps it doesn't like you," suggested Ron, who had, by that point, settled into the comfortable armchair by the fire and fallen asleep. He was the disgruntled one, being woken up and all.

Hermione folded her arms and glared at him crossly. "Not funny, Ronald."

"Very funny," he countered, suddenly not tired at all. He stood up, and held out a hand to Hermione. He normally wouldn't be so forward in his crush on her, but he had, after all, just woken up. He was entitled to do something weird.

Hermione seemed to share his opinion... that he was weird. She glanced at his hand, and hesitantly took it. He enclosed his large hand around her smaller one, trying to ignore the telltale shiver running down his spine. He felt warm when she touched him. He liked it.

"What now?" she asked, one eyebrow raised to such an exact degree of contempt, suspicion and confusion that Ron was surprised she hadn't used a protractor.

"Are you calm?"

Her eyes widened, as she remembered. "Oh my God! Harry killed someone!"

Ron seized her other hand and jerked it so that she was standing in front of him. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and he could see himself in them, a redheaded blot on their chocolate surface.

"Calm down, 'Mione," he said, smiling slightly at her. "He'll be right. He's Harry, after all."

Hermione took a breath, wondering at how easily he had calmed her down. When she exhaled, the air that left her lungs took with it her stress.

"Thanks, Ron," she said, only a little reluctantly. Ron pulled her into a hug – another forward action. To his surprise, she rested her head on his shoulder. He swiftly snuck a light kiss onto the top of her head, that he was sure she wouldn't feel, although his lips were burning and sparkling magnificently from the action.

With a sigh, he acknowledged her comment, with, "That's what I'm here for."