Disclaimer: I disclaim.

Author's note: Well my exams are all over and I'm free to do whatever I want. YIPPEE!! Praise the Lord. I am spending my time very luxuriously, currently re-reading the HP series for the billionth time. And I thought I might upload just another random short fic – as appears to have become my new trend. Oh well.

You're Welcome.

Ron sat moodily on the couch in the common room, staring pointlessly into the fire. He had just had yet another argument with Hermione, and he quite honestly believed that this was the end of their friendship, for better or worse. He had never seen her so furious in all his years of knowing her, and he was certain she would never forgive him.

They'd had arguments before, certainly, but this was different. This was not some petty tiff or even a blazing row that eventually fizzled out. This was even worse than the time in their third year, with that whole incident regarding Scabbers and Crookshanks, which had taken an awful lot to diffuse.

No, this was bad, because far from being just some small argument, this had ended with some quite harsh words being spoken, words that Ron was now bitterly regretting.

Words that had made Hermione cry.

He hadn't meant to make her cry. He was just so damn sick of her being a bossy know-it-all, no matter how good her intentions. He just wanted her to leave him alone sometimes, not forever, just to lay off once in a while.

And now he'd done it. She was not going to forgive him any time soon, and Ron was sure that he wasn't going to be able to swallow his pride and just ask her forgiveness.

Ron punched his fist into the cushion beside him, annoyed at himself, but also partly annoyed at her. Why couldn't she just understand? He wouldn't be in this mess if she would just understand him.

But then he sighed.

She wasn't a mind reader after all. Even she wasn't that good.

Ron got up and crossed the common room to the portrait hole, determined to find her and apologise. He wasn't overly sure she'd accept, but at least then the ball would be in her court. At least he would have done all that he could.

Everyone else was enjoying their dinners, but Ron knew she wouldn't be in the Great Hall. He crossed the Entrance Hall, sensing somehow that she'd be outside, of course, in the rain and the cold, miserable and wet.

He felt a bit guilty over this.

He crossed the grounds silently, heading for the lake, because he knew she'd be there. It was almost uncanny, really.

And there she was, her knees drawn up to her face, her hands clenching her ankles as she sat there, huddled from the cold. The rain was only light, but its constant spattering had rendered her very wet after the time she'd been there. Ron sighed.

"Go away, Ron," her voice reached him, muffled against her knees. Strange that she could tell he was there though she wasn't looking, though he hadn't made a sound.

She was shivering against the cold, and Ron felt his heart ache at the thought that it was all his fault that she was out here, cold and alone. He pulled off his dark cloak, though he was already freezing himself, and draped it over her shoulders, kneeling beside her and wondering what to do next.

She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes glistening with tears and her lids red and raw, and he saw her pain and could have punched himself. And she saw this.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

He wondered that he could ever have found four such seemingly insignificant words difficult to say, for they rolled off his tongue easily now. He reached out to her and she hesitated, for the briefest of moments, then moved into his arms.

He felt his heart burst with relief, joy, happiness, so thankful was he that he wouldn't be waking up tomorrow to face a bleak, Hermione-less future.

"I never meant to say those things, I was just so sick of you going on, and I regretted them the moment I said them and I wished so badly I could take them back and I never, ever meant to hurt you. I'm sorry, Hermione. I just..."

She cut him off, the hint of a sad smile crossing her lips as she stemmed the blabber pouring from his with a finger.

"I know."

As he helped her up, she looked up at him, a sudden spark in her eye.

"Thanks for the cloak, Ron."

Ron wrinkled his nose, hearing the smile in her voice.

"You're welcome."

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