Ron Weasley

The next morning I woke up with a yawn and a stretch. The first day back. The last first day back. Did that make sense? I suppose it does.

Harry was still asleep. I looked at the little analog that sat on my nightstand. "Shit, we're going to be late," I muttered. I looked around the dormitory. Neville had come back for seventh year, and so did Dean and Seamus. The gang was back. And currently the gang was pulling on their uniforms while Harry and I were still in bed.

"Oi, Harry!" I barked, hurling my pillow at him.

Harry woke with a start. "What? What?" he said, sitting up abruptly and whipping his head to the left and then right. He threw his glasses on as Seamus, Dean, and Neville chuckled into their sleeves.

He frowned. "Really, Ron?" he complained.

"Come one, mate," I said, throwing him a grin. "How else was I supposed to do it?" I walked over to my trunk and got out my uniform.

"You could tell me," Harry said grumpily, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and pulling down the quilt. "Instead of bombarding me with pillows like a loony."

"That was only one pillow," I corrected him. "Now come on, we're going to be late."

That was all Harry needed to start getting up. He threw on his uniform before any of us—who had all started dressing before him—could finish and ran out the door towards the bathroom.

"Are you trying to pull a Hermione, Harry?" Seamus called after him.

"Maybe," Harry yelled back with a laugh.

I met up with Harry in the common room, still yawning and stretching with my messenger bag flung over my shoulder.

"Merlin, Harry, only Malfoy is ever the bathroom for that long," I told him as we headed out.

He chuckled. "Doesn't seem like it anymore. Did you see him at the welcome feast? Downright frightening, that was."

"Why were you looking at Malfoy?" I teased him.

"Shut up," Harry said, punching me lightly in the shoulder. "You know why. Ginny said that Hermione's really worried about him."

I froze. What else had Hermione said to Ginny about Malfoy? "Why should she? Watch it," I warned him as he made to step off a staircase when it was still moving.

"Thanks, Ron. And you know Hermione. She tried and is probably still trying to liberate bloody house elves. I think Malfoy's just going to be her next project. It's just how she is."

"I don't like it," I said truthfully. "I don't think Malfoy should be trusted. He looks dangerous now—even worse than what he was before the war."

"I highly doubt that," Harry said as we reached the ground floor. "He looks beaten; defenseless. I don't see any problem with Hermione trying to interact with Malfoy, except that the git doesn't deserve it."

"Exactly, Harry. Hermione's not thinking straight if she wants to help Malfoy, of all people."

"Just let her go. Who knows? Maybe she'll actually succeed and he won't be the cruel, evil, conniving little git that he was. Hermione's got charisma, and she knows how to use it. He'll be putty in her capable hands, and the world will be better off for it."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I muttered. "'Cause after 'putty in her hands', comes 'falling for her hard'. I say this from experience."

Harry looked at me thoughtfully as we entered the Great Hall. "We'll deal with that if and when it happens. Besides, we know Hermione's head-over-heels in love with you, so there's no danger on her part."

You weren't watching her on the carriage, I thought. You didn't see her expression when she was thinking about him. But I didn't voice this opinion. Let Harry think that he's right. At least I'll have something I can be smug about when Hermione breaks up with me or something.

To my utter surprise, Ginny but not Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast.

"Hey, guys," she said, looking up from her book at she stabbed a piece of egg with her fork. Harry swooped down to give her a peck on the lips while I reflexively looked away.

"Hermione's not here yet?" Harry said as we took the seats across from Ginny.

She nodded. "Yeah, I thought that was strange, too. I thought that she would be the first one to breakfast."

"Is it me or does Malfoy look worse than he did yesterday?" She asked as she pointed behind us with her fork.

I found the familiar blur of pale hair and squinted. Yes, he did look worse. Gaunter, if that was possible, and the bags under his eyes were more prominent.

"Hermione has a lot of work to do," Harry muttered, "If she wants to bring that thing back to life."

I nodded.

"Oh, look, there's Hermione!" Ginny said, waving to what I assumed was Hermione.

She walked towards us and put on a grin, but it didn't reach her eyes. Strange—Hermione always grins with her eyes as well as her mouth. My eyes narrowed with suspicion. So did Ginny's.

"Are you wearing concealer? On your bloody neck?" she asked as Hermione sat down next to her.

"Concealer?" Harry said. "Isn't that what muggle girls put on their faces to make pimple go away?"

"It doesn't make them go away, it hides them, and it can hide a lot of other things too," Ginny looked at Hermione, and then me pointedly. What? I mouthed, and she smirks in response.

Hermione's gaze flitted to me, too, and then her eyes brightened with realization and she shouted "God no!"

"What? What?" Harry and I demanded. Hermione ignored us.

"No, it's not for anything like that," she said quietly, her face a red that could give dad a run for his money.

"What?" Harry repeated.

"Er… Ginny thinks... the concealer... me and Ron..."

"Got it, got it!" Harry shouted, putting his hands up in a "stop" motion. I could feel my face start to heat up and I glared at Ginny.

"So what is it for?" she asked, propping her elbows up on the table and looking at Hermione intently.

Her eyes widened. "It's nothing," she said, looking away.

"M hm," Ginny said, obviously unconvinced.

Before Hermione could protest, she took out her wand and pointed it at Hermione's neck. "Revelio," she said, and the concealer disappeared.

Sorry for the cliff-hanger. I couldn't help myself. Please review!