A/N: For the reviewer that asked...we're back to Ron's pov with this chapter :) I kind of got off track with responding to all the reviews, but I appreciate them all immensely.

This chapter takes place during chapter nine, "The Woes of Mrs. Weasley," of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

DISCLAIMER: Still don't own Harry Potter. Which is quite unfortunate, really.

chapter fourteen: in with the letters

There it was. The familiar, large, grey "P" encompassed by the scarlet and gold of the Gryffindor lion. Only this time, the badge wasn't something he'd helped Fred and George nick off Percy's shelf. It wasn't, either, the badge he'd admired endlessly as a kid, all summer the year Bill had gotten it in his letter, until his older brother had had to leave with it for the start of the new term. Most surprisingly, it wasn't something that was newly Harry's, of which he was looking upon in envy. It was his. It was in his letter. His hand. He had to keep repeating the words over in his head, in the hope that he would eventually actually believe them.

Amongst the chaos of the reinstated Order and Harry's hearing, he'd nearly forgotten this was the year Prefects were chosen. Of course, ever since Percy had gotten his badge several years ago, Ron had followed Fred and George in taking the piss and pretending only prats became prefects. Only, unlike his twin brothers, Ron had never really believed any of it. Although Percy had been endlessly irritating about the position, Ron knew how important being a Prefect was, and he hadn't forgotten the pride his parents emanated each time one of his brothers had received their badge. He had never really thought, though, in all his hoping, that one day he'd be the one on the receiving end of the beam his mother seemed to reserve only for the owners of such a title. Judging from everyone's reactions, he wasn't the only one.

All too clearly, Hermione's response to George's suggestion that it was shocking Ron had been chosen floated into his memory... "No...no it's not...Ron's done loads of...he's really..."* Ron scoffed and looked at the badge again in his palm, suddenly fighting a strong desire to chuck it at the wall. He wasn't useless. Why shouldn't he have gotten the badge? His marks were just as good as the other Gryffindor boys in his year, and he mostly only got into trouble for the important stuff that was worth getting into trouble for...like standing up to Malfoy or trying to save his best friend's neck. But that was just it, wasn't it? His best friend. Harry. He couldn't really blame Hermione for her surprise, because if he was being honest, he hadn't been expecting it either. He'd never liked to dwell on it for too long, but the rational side of his brain had always expected Harry to become Prefect over him. The things he had done in his four years at school were nothing compared to the things Harry had. Reasonably, he tried to think of some obscure trait or achievement that could have given him the edge...but he came up with nothing.

Thinking of how inferior he was to his best friend only made him feel depressed. Moodily, he tried to think of the brighter side: notably the beautiful new broomstick currently residing under his bed, and all the extra time he'd get to spend with Hermione on Prefect duty... Quite unfortunately, the excitement he'd initially felt over Hermione arriving a few days before Harry had quickly evaporated, as every time he pulled her away to try and do something fun, his

mother had a nasty habit of popping up to rope them into doing something horrible, usually involving housework. As if nothing was more romantic than ridding the curtains of doxies.

Ron couldn't help wondering how the summer would have been different if it had been spent as originally planned...aimlessly passing through the days with his friends at the Burrow. He was almost positive Hermione was now wonderfully out of touch with Krum. Or at least she hadn't mentioned anything about him...and girls liked to talk about that kind of stuff, didn't they? All the times he had overheard Lavender and Parvati talking in the common rooms they had been deep in conversation over some boy. Surely...being a girl and all...Hermione would have mentioned...well she had to be out of contact with him. That was that. Maybe if they had been at the burrow Ron would have gotten the guts to try and start something between them. Probably not, but maybe. He would have at least been able to convince her to come swimming in the lake, effectively giving him the excuse to see Hermione in her swimming costume.

Knowing Hermione, it wouldn't be just scraps of fabric like Ginny's (his dad had looked like he'd been severely beaten by bludgers when Ginny had brought it back from some Muggle store). He amused himself for a while by picturing Hermione is some conservative swimsuit, which she probably would have picked out in some dull color like navy in the hopes of not standing out. It could come right up to her neck, probably, and she would still walk out with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Then she'd stand real close to the edge and dip just her toes in to test the water temperature. Though the whole scenario was only in his mind, with all her girl bits covered completely in fabric, Ron couldn't help but ogle a little. Even in the most conservative swimming costume, he'd be able to see her tan legs and shoulders...and because of the water, she'd probably tie back her hair, exposing her neck. In real life, he was lucky if the day was hot enough for Hermione to succumb to wearing a tank top.

Just then, the very person in question entered his room and plopped down on the floor beside him. He realized he was still holding out his prefect badge and awkwardly set in aside before looking at her. She was in long jean shorts, with the ends rolled up, and one of Ginny's T-shirts today. He could tell because Ginny was a little bit smaller, and the T-shirt on Hermione hugged against her body in the way her normal ones rarely did. Rather stupidly, he found himself wondering if she was wearing it because she liked it that way, or just because none of her own were washed. Maybe she did it specifically to drive him crazy. It didn't even matter, but he still wondered. "Had to escape the party?" He asked.

"All the excitement can get to be a little overwhelming," Hermione confirmed. "Besides, I can only take so much of Fred and George hounding me about how I'm 'perfect prefect material.' And they don't mean it as a compliment."

Ron only nodded, still trying to kick swimming costume-clad Hermione from his mind in favor of the real, living Hermione beside him. Hermione, however, must have taken his lack of words as him ignoring her, because she immediately looked guilty and started apologizing. "Ron, about earlier...I didn't...I mean, I was just...well, I think you're going to make a great prefect," she stumbled out clumsily.

Ron was suddenly feeling rather lousy again. "Don't worry about it," he said, trying to pull off a voice of indifference. "I thought it was going to be Harry too." The hopeful part of him wanted Hermione to deny that that was what she had indeed been thinking, and press on to say that he was going to be a much better prefect than Harry could ever be. But instead, she didn't say anything. He wasn't terribly surprised.

Desperately, he tried to think of something to switch the topic to, but couldn't think of anything convincing enough. Finally he just said, "Congratulations, by the way."

That made Hermione grin. "Congrats to you, too. just think, we'll get to use the Prefect's bathroom now!"

He laughed. It was amazing, really, how she could get so excited over something as silly as a fancy loo. Then again, she was probably just crafting up ways to get greater access to the house elves through being a Prefect. Perhaps she was planning on leaving knit caps on the toilet seats.

Hermione rambled on. "And just think, Ron...if we do well as prefects, they might just make us Head Boy and Girl!"

"I bet that would make Mum happy," he answered back glumly, knowing already that there was no way he was good enough for something like that. Head Boy was something that people like Bill got, never anyone like him. Hermione seemed to sense his tone.

"Don't be ridiculous, she'll be happy no matter what. Besides, I really think you could do it Ron. Especially if you apply yourself instead of spending all your time play chess or hanging around the Quidditch pitch."

"What kind of fun would that be?" Ron said incredulously. "I'm just looking forward to the part where I can dish out detentions to dungbats like Malfoy. Can you imagine his face-"

"Ron!" Hermione said sternly, clearly trying to put on the face of rule-abiding, rational Prefect. Ron knew, however, she secretly was in full support of giving Malfoy what he deserved. Fondly he recalled the time she'd slapped him in the face third year. That's just the way Hermione was.

"No need to be a downer, I probably won't get the chance anyway...you know Malfoy's a shoe in for Slytherin Prefect. Who's his competition...Crabbe and Goyle?" The thought itself of spending extra time with someone as thick as Malfoy disgusted him, but he supposed that was the price of the badge. Hermione clearly knew it too, judging by the look on her face.

"So how's your new broom?" She asked, understandably trying to deter the conversation away from Malfoy. It was never pleasant to think of a git like him at times in which it could be avoided. For a fleeting moment, Ron thought of telling her about his plans to maybe try out for the team, but almost immediately decided against it. Hermione was great for a lot of things, but Quidditch was not one of them. She wasn't aware of the game enough to tell him honestly whether or not he stood a chance.

"It's brilliant," he said simply. "Not the best model, but a big step up from my last one." He began to explain its various features, which Hermione dutifully pretended to care about, his eyes glimmering just at the thought of his new broomstick. Now that he had a halfway decent one, he might just be able to make a good enough impression at tryouts. But he tried not to be too hopeful. Knowing him, he would find some sort of way to botch it all up before he even got in the air.

Eventually Hermione cut him off and stood up, mumbling about going back downstairs to thank everyone. "You should come too, it was your party also." She was probably right. Sighing, Ron pulled himself up and walked over to the door, being careful to let her go out before him so that he'd have a nice view of her backside for the short walk down the steps. Oh, the simpler pleasures.

When he returned to his room a not long after, Harry had returned and was supposedly already asleep, or at least faking it. Ron, too, changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, though he wasn't really tired. His couldn't help but glance over to his Prefect badge every few minutes, where it rested tenderly next to the lamp on his bedside table. Even in the dark, he could make out the bold P set against the shiny lion. Oddly, he felt an unfamiliar surge of pride pulse through him. And when he finally did fall asleep, he was smiling.

*quote taken from page 163 of the USA edition of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

A/N: Thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing?)!

And to shamelessly self-promote, if you're looking for some post-war established Romione, check out my new one-shot "Truly, Madly, Deeply." I'm really proud of how it turned out.