Disclaimer: We've been through this before. You know that I don't own these characters and I'd wish you'd stop staring at me like that. I know J.K. Rowling own's them and I am aware that my fly is open. So we're even now right? No infringement attempted just to let you know again.

Harry

"Hermione's here!" Ron exclaimed excitedly as the brand-new Ford Anglia pulled up to the Weasley's dusty drive way

I pulled myself out of the lake the Weasley home was so conveniently next to. For the past few in weeks' Ron and Ginny had been teaching me to swim, seeing as the Dursleys had never even attempted to. I was doing pretty well except for the occasional freak out when we got to really deep water. But Ron was always by my side to calm me down and lead me to the shallows, in which he and Ginny would proceed to laugh at me. I was all in good fun though, this summer was turning out to be a good one. I hadn't been up to doing much since the Tri-Wizards tournament. But the Weasley's warm home and even warmer heart's helped me out. My smile was one of the largest I've smiled as I embraced her. But as I did so she did not embrace me back, which was puzzling. When I actually stepped back and looked at her, I noticed something different about her. I couldn't put my finger on it though. I racked my brain trying to figure out what was different.

" 'Mione what's up?" I asked as we walked into the house alongside her

"What do you mean?" she asked shrugging my hand off of her shoulder

"You seem . . . different" Ron said telling me he saw it too

"I'm perfectly fine, um . . . look, I'm going to put my things away and take a nap. I'll talk to you guys' later. I'm jet lagged"

"What's jet lagged?" Ron asked

I'd forgotten he didn't know about airplanes "I'll explain to you later" I told him

Hermione was halfway up the stair's when I called out "Well . . . Okay 'Mione"

Both of us watched in silence as she traveled upstairs into Ginny's room. We would've watched even longer, because we were so confused. Why was she acting like this? We were forced to stop asking ourselves that question when Mrs. Weasley came and yelled at us for dripping on the clean floor. I turned to go into the basement, where Mrs. Weasley had fashioned me a room, so Ron could keep his own room again. I had to admit it was nice to sleep alone again. Ron's room did get quite hot on some night's. The basement was nice and cool, but I put the offer out to Ron that if it got too hot he was always welcome to come down there. He'd taken me up on the offer several times already.

Hermione

I couldn't stay near Ron or Harry any longer than I already had. I had to compose myself first. Even though I know they knew something was up with me. Who wouldn't know? Being around guys' lately was just too much for me. I left my trunk by the bed I usually slept on and lied down, my jacket still on. I buried my head in the goose feather pillow's. I just wanted to forget the last week. The problem was . . . I couldn't. It kept replaying in my mind, the Firewhiskey on his breath, burning my lips. The pain, the terrible terrible pain when he . . . I had to catch my breath. Tears, my new best friends, filled my eye's and slid onto the pillow. I tried to stop them, it hurt, I hurt so much. The door knob then turned and right then I dried up, closed my eye's and pretended to be asleep, silently praying that whoever it was didn't come over.

"Hermione, you alright?" I heard Ron ask

But I didn't answer, I was afraid if I did everything would spill out. Even though every bone, fiber, essence of my body and mind was screaming at me to tell, tell, TELL! I didn't even stir.

Ron

I watched her lie there motionless, still in her light pink jacket. Whatever jet lagged was she sure was it. But I was sure, as my hair was red that I heard sobbing. The way she was lying was so unnatural that I knew she was faking. And that I was not mistaken. I stood in the doorframe a while longer, watching her chest rise and fall. Soon after her breathing became more deep and I knew she'd really fallen asleep. I wondered what was wrong with her, why she barely looked at either of us and what the hell jet lagged was. I heard several quick footsteps coming up the stairs and closed the door quietly and went upstairs. As I changed, I looked around my extremely orange room. Flying Chudley cannon players on my wall, it usually made me smile, but this time I frowned. Maybe I was getting a bit too old for this. No other teenage boy's kept silly little things like this on their walls. Maybe I'd give them to Ginny, she likes them, or I could just throw them away. Yeah, I'll throw them away. It's time for Ron Weasley to grow up anyway. I mean Harry was more mature than me, don't even get me started on Hermione. I'd say it was about time. And I told myself I didn't need to go into Harry's room tonight. It wouldn't be that hot.