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The rubble had been swept away; the dead long buried. Hogwarts was well on its way to becoming whole again. It structures would be new, but the final battle never forgotten.

For weeks they had all pitched in the return Hogwarts to its glory. The Weasleys despite their grief, the "golden trio" despite their title as heroes. Everyone who had loved the halls, or even just walked them, helped. It was hard work. The rubble reminding them of what had happened over the one night, over all those years, making it harder to simply get the job done.

It had been weeks since Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the same room together for longer than a few minutes before being ushered away either by work to be done or their new responsibilities as those who truly knew the whole story. For a while they hardly had time to notice their absence in each other's lives, but it was soon unavoidable for Ron to notice the void left behind without Hermione nearby or the solitude that came with not speaking with Harry everyday.

He had assumed, for the most part, that they were avoiding him intentionally, to give him time with his family in their time of grief. A part of him was grateful for the time alone to grieve Fred. Another part hated their partial abandonment of him, leaving him with a broken family he did not know how to fix.

Finally, after a few days past and the noticeable change could be ignored no longer, he abandoned his work helping rebuild the castle, avoided the throngs of students who wanted to hear the sordid details of the last year, and made his way to the library. Harry's location was always muddled by scheduled and arbitrary meetings with the Ministry or Order members nowadays, but Hermione could always be reliably found near the remains of the school library, tirelessly preserving the place she loved so.

He found her alone, sorting through a pile of singed books, silently repairing them with simple flicks of her wand. For a moment he hesitated, aside from a few spoken words and embraces- mostly at funeral ceremonies, he had not seen the girl much since they first kissed. Before he could even consider turning back she turned to him, noticing his tall shadow behind her. She gave a small smile and motioned for him to join her among the books.

"Need some help?" He asked.

"Of course." She replied simply, handing him a few books.

Moments passed in silence together. The silence was different from the usual periods without conversation they had back in school, when he would work on his essays late at night and she would stay up with him reading. It's weight was heavier upon him, urging him to say something. As he repaired the bindings and removed soot he found his mind could wander quite easily, and he wondered what Hermione let her own mind wander to in these times.

"Hermione?" He asked.

"Hmm?" She asked, still efficiently cleaning.

"Wh- What do you think about? When you're doing all this?" He asked, motioning to the stacks.

"A lot of things I suppose." She answered.

"Well, what were you thinking of before I got here?" He pressed.

A tinge of pink crossed her cheeks. While Ron knew he was not the most keen observer of Hermione, he had always recognized that sign of embarrassment. According to Ginny it often was accompanied by thoughts of none other than himself.

"...Fred." She answered cautiously.

Stirrings in his chest rose quickly. There were the obvious ones that always came with the mention of his brother nowadays. The pain and heartache that came with remembering he was no longer. The guilt he felt for being unable to rouse his family from their dark times. The image of his brother's face, smiling up at him. But now, there was something else. Something he had not felt for months.

"Oh?" He replied, trying to be casual, "You-you miss him?"

"Of course Ron. I loved him dearly. He and I were closer than you might have thought."

The words brought back the sickening feeling. The one he hadn't felt since the heavy chain of the horrid necklace was wrapped around his neck and thoughts. He didn't want to feel this way again. He wanted to feel like he had when she kissed him. When she picked him. But there was that part of him still. The one that made him think maybe she picked the wrong Weasley. Maybe she was looking for Fred, but settled for him instead.

He did not respond to her answer; he could barely continue working on the books. His mind raced, all those times with Hermione, was he imagining it all? Was she really in love with his brother?

The worst part was he knew. Fred saw through Ron even when Ron couldn't see himself. He could even remember talking to him first about Hermione.

"Fred. Wait!" Ron called out to his older brother.

While Ron was alone, Fred was accompanied by George and Lee who, after pausing a moment at Ron's voice, continued along their way, leaving Fred and Ron thankfully alone.

"I just...wanted to ask you something. About this bloody stupid Yule Ball." Ron nervously started.

"Sorry, mate, but I do already have a date." Fred joked.

"No," Ron said annoyed, "But that's just it isn't it? You asked Angelina to the ball?" He asked slowly.

"Yes, Ron. I'm afraid she's taken too." Fred replied, walking a few paces ahead of his younger brother.

"But you two are friends," Ron retorted, ignoring his teasing.

"So?"

"So won't that make things...weird with you two?"

Fred stopped, an impish grin spreading across his features that made Ron cringe, reinforcing his earlier belief that this was a huge mistake. He groaned a bit as Fred turned around to face him, the smile even wider now.

"Now why would this be a concern of yours?" Fred asked playfully.

"That's not important. I just thought, I mean, what if something happens and you can't be friends anymore?"

"Are you thinking of following in the same footsteps?"
"What? No!"

"Does ickle Ronniekins have a crush on someone?"

"Shut it!" Ron turned to leave, abandoning the idea.

"Oi, get back here!" Fred shouted, "Or this little revelation will suddenly be a LOT more public."

Reluctantly Ron made his way back to his brother, all the while staring daggers at him. The looks only seemed to encourage the smile Fred kept widening.

"Now does this crush have anything to with a certain...bookish girl we all know and love?" Fred goaded. Ron turned crimson. "Come on now, how can I help you-"

"I don't know!" Ron interrupted, "I don't know if I like her or not. I just thought if I take her to this stupid thing...." He let his thought trail.

"You could find out if you did fancy her. Or if she fancied you, right?" Fred finished, slightly less entertained, and more ready to offer actual advise.

"But if she doesn't and I ask her-"

"You think you guys won't be friends anymore?"

Silence followed as Ron confirmed with a small, nervous nod of the head and a glance around the empty hall to make sure no one else knew. Fred sighed a little.

"Look, if you want to ask her just ask her. Waiting will only make it harder."

"But-"

"Tell her you wanna go as friends. Figure out the rest from there. Do it soon, or someone else will, mate." Fred replied as he quickly made his way to catch up to his friends.

It had almost worked, too. Ron recalled . He was making his way to the common room to ask Hermione to the ball, even practicing all the way through the halls, mumbling various invitations under his breathe until he bumped, quite literally, into Fleur. After a few dazed moments staring at her, and his already raging hormones getting the best of him, he let slip the words he was practicing just moments before. A simple apology would have sufficed, instead he asked her to the ball, unable to form any other words but the ones meant for Hermione. After her rejection he lost his nerve until, asking only after it was too late.

Fred had known.

Watching Hermione look up at him expectantly, his mouth somewhat agape as if he was about to speak he returned to the present.

"I have to go." He said suddenly rising from his position, leaving a surprised and confused Hermione in a haze of his memories.

Then the words slipped into his head. He never thought they ever would, never thought there would be anything but grief and fond memories for his brother. But in all his self doubt he let the guilt laden words in.

He hated his brother.

I started this knowing full well I'm in the middle of finals, so I expect to update sometime after Wednesday shortly after I shout "I'm free, I'm free" as I exit the classroom.

Kudos if you get the title reference to another geeky obsession of mine.

Let me know how I did so far...