When they were done, Ron sat back. He wanted to say 'Wow, that was good' or 'I've missed Hogwarts cooking' or something, but was too busy craning his neck to see what Malfoy was doing.

When he found him, it wasn't very interesting. He was speaking quietly to a black-haired boy sitting next to him.

Ron nudged the black-haired boy sitting next to him.

"What?" Harry said, turning slightly.

"Was that what you didn't want to tell me?"

"Was what?"

"About Malfoy," he hissed.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, Ron. That's what we didn't want to tell you."

"It's a bloody good thing we didn't," Ginny interrupted. "Because you'd have gone to find him on the train and been expelled before we even got here."

"Shut up," Ron said, though it was true. He looked sidelong at Hermione. She was finishing her desert, while Seamus prattled away on her right. He was talking about the Irish quidditch team – it seemed he was under the impression that Hermione was a fellow supporter, and Hermione was too busy eating (or too polite) to inform him otherwise.

Just as she put down her spoon, Dumbledore stood again.

"I hope your meals were suitably delectable," he said, something of the old twinkle (not so often seen these days) in his eye. "Fifth-year prefects, please escort first-years to their common rooms."

"Not us," Ron said, leaning in to Hermione, but she did not appear to have heard him.

"McGonagall wants to see us," she murmured distractedly.

"Why me?"

"No, not you." She hesitated. "Me and Malfoy. I just – I think I'd better go find him."

"He's right there," Ron said, trying to control his already mounting anger. "At the Slytherin table. I mean, it's not like you need to go hunting for …"

But she was already standing up, and then so was the rest of the table, and the rest of the Great Hall. She waved a quick goodbye, and ducked through the forming crowds, heading in the general direction of the new Head Boy.

Harry and Ginny were waiting for him. He resisted the urge to shout after her, and stood abruptly.

"Come on," he said. "I'm buggered."

"Er – me too," said Harry, glancing briefly at Ginny. "Common room?"

She opened her mouth, but Ron cut in.

"Bed," he said firmly. "We should all just go to bed."

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Who says I am?"

"You say you are."

"Well, look at you. You've got dark circles under your eyes."

"I do not," she said hotly, turning. "Harry, do I?"

Harry looked into her face for a few moments, and then blinked, and looked away. "No," he said, "I can't see any."

"Fine," said Ron. "You go to the common room. Me and Harry'll go to bloody bed like sensible bloody people."

"Fine. Do that. I'm going to see if there's a Welcome Back party."

And with that, she spun on her heel and marched out of the Great Hall.

"Why'd you want to go to bed?" Harry asked immediately, sounding a little annoyed.

"I'm – tired."

I don't want to see Hermione was his simultaneous, unvoiced thought.

"Fine." Harry held up two hands in surrender. "Let's go."

~

There was a welcome party, as it turned out, but only a few people could work up the energy to enjoy it. Most everyone else was turning in. Ginny, very obstinately, was sitting by the fire, talking to Seamus – despite the fact that he was still on about the Irish team, and Ginny was more an England kind of girl.

Despite himself, Ron was scanning for Hermione. She was nowhere to be seen.

"Probably still talking to McGonagall," Harry pointed out.

"What? Who?"

"Hermione."

"Oh, right. Probably, I suppose. I wasn't thinking of her."

Harry nodded once, and they made their way up the stairs to their dorm. Dean Thomas was already in bed. Ron made a face at his drawn curtains, and Harry grinned a little.

"Feeling five today?" he said.

"Shut it." Ron touched the foot of his bed – a House Elf had slipped a warmer into it, and it felt fantastic. "God, this is the life."

"I've missed it," Harry admitted, changing quickly into his pyjamas. He was taller now, lean from quidditch, and Ron felt another little spark of jealousy. Harry was tall and lean – he was just lanky. He thrust the thought aside, and changed himself, before slipping into bed. There was a short, comfortable silence. Neither of them had drawn their curtains.

"D'you suppose," Ron said eventually, "that 'Mione won't be spending so much time with us this year?"

"Why'd you say that?" Harry sounded sleepy, and was speaking into his pillow.

"'Cos she's Head Girl and all that."

"Don't know. Thought you wanted to go to bed?"

"And bloody Malfoy," Ron went on, ignoring him.

"Malfoy's not so bad," Harry said wearily.

"What's not so bad about him?" Ron challenged. "That he's come over to the good guys and what? That he's not as nasty as he used to be?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should give him a chance."

"A chance?" Ron said, raising his voice. Dean mumbled a 'shut up' from behind his curtains, and Ron aimed his middle finger at him.

There was another silence.

"How was your summer?" Ron asked, more quietly.

Harry paused before answering. "It was shit," he said finally. "I don't know what I would have done without letters from all of you. Offed myself or something, probably."

Ron really didn't like hearing that last (it had been said lightly, but you never knew with Harry these days). "Yeah," he said cheerily, for want of anything better, "took some time, those letters. Poor Pig and Errol were overworked what with me and Ginny sending stuff. And then 'Mione's bird would have had two loads as well, when Gin went to stay."

"I know. That was really nice of you all," Harry said. Ron looked at him, but he was facing the other way. 

"No trouble," Ron went on uneasily. "Not like I had anything else to do."

Another silence. Ron was beginning to wonder if Harry had fallen asleep when he spoke, quite softly and suddenly.

"Heard anything on Hagrid?"

Ron bit his lip. That must have been what he was thinking of at dinner. Harry hadn't been very in touch with the wizarding world this summer.

"Ah – no, mate. Sorry," Ron said awkwardly.

Harry sighed heavily, and said nothing more.

Ron lay back on his thick pillow, feeling rather helpless, and tried to sleep. But no matter how tired he had professed to be, he couldn't quite rid himself of the feeling of 'Mione's damp hand on his arm, or the sight of Malfoy standing to applause in the Great Hall.

Stupid brain, he thought fiercely. Stop it.

Eventually, he drifted off.

~

Both Harry and Hermione were late to breakfast. Ron found this confusing – usually it was the other way round.

"Where's 'Mione?" Ron said, leaning over to his sister.

Ginny shrugged and went on eating. "She has to come down from her new room, remember?"

"What new room?" Ron asked blankly.

"Head Girl room."

"Jeez. Cushy," Ron said, impressed. "What about Harry?"

"I don't know," Ginny replied impatiently. "Why would I know where Harry is?"

"Well, I don't know either. Just thought I'd ask. No need to get so touchy."

"I'm not touchy."

Harry came into the Great Hall at that moment, almost running. He had a huge grin plastered across his face.

"What gotten into him?" Ron said wonderingly.

Ginny just shook her head, breaking into a smile. Harry threw himself down into his seat and pushed Ron hard with one shoulder.

"What?" Ron laughed.

"McGonagall just called me into her office," he said, half-laughing himself. "I'm quidditch captain."

"Quidditch captain?" Ron bellowed, and they hugged – before realising what they were doing, and breaking apart.

"Yeah," Harry said, slightly calmer. "Captain." He hesitated, and his smile faded just a little. "You're not – you know, upset?"

"Upset?" Ron said indignantly. "Why would I be upset?"
It was true. He wasn't. He'd got to be a prefect when Harry got nothing. And besides, it was a relief just to see him being – normal again.

"Congratulations, Harry," Ginny said softly, and Harry looked quickly at her.

"Thanks," he said. "You're definitely playing this year, for sure. You're our best Chaser, Gin."

She went a little pink. "Right," she said, "OK," and took another piece of toast from the rack on the table.

"What about me?" Ron asked.

"What about you?"

Ron swatted him over the back of his head, and Harry grinned happily.  

Before Ron could say anything else, Hermione came in, Malfoy beside her. They were talking – just normal talking, but it made Ron grit his teeth when he looked at them.

"How'd she manage that?" Ron said lowly.

"What?" mumbled Harry, through a mouthful of eggs.

He didn't elaborate until Hermione reached their table.

"Morning, everyone," she said, and Ron launched in, unable to stop himself.

"How'd you manage that?" he said.

"What?" she asked absently, trying to get to the pancakes. They were just beyond her reach, and Ron grabbed the platter, holding it out for her while he continued. She put a couple on her plate as he spoke.

"How'd you manage to come down to breakfast with Malfoy when you're in different houses?" he demanded.

She put down the pancake server, and he put down the platter. "Why do you have to be so – thingy about everything?" she said angrily.

"What do you mean 'thingy'?" he protested. "I'm not being 'thingy'."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"It's too early," Gin called, and they ignored her. Harry didn't say anything.

"The reason, Ron Weasley, that we came down together, is because our rooms are right next door," she said.

Then she closed her eyes. He could almost see her thinking it: I shouldn't have said that.

"Right next door?" he repeated.

"Yes," she said, picking up her knife and fork resolutely. "Adjacent rooms. Because we're Head Boy and Girl."

Ron was silent for some time, picturing this, picturing slick-haired Malfoy right next door to Hermione. While she did her work. While she changed. While she showered, for Merlin's sake. Right next door, hearing all that. His gaze slid over the Slytherin table. Malfoy was eating. But eating very smugly! said the fierce voice in his head.

"Well, bloody hell," said Ron, putting down his cutlery. "I can't eat now!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Hermione. "Stop being so childish."

"I'm not being childish. I don't trust him. I don't trust him for a second. And right next door? He could – anytime –"

She looked sideways at him, and then back at her plate. "Ron, it's sweet of you to worry," she said quickly, "but you needn't. Alright? I'm fine. Malfoy's fine. He's not so bad, you know."

He opened his mouth to refute this, and she hurried on.

"And even if he was, it's not like I can't protect myself. Is it?"

"Speaking of protection," said Harry hastily, "first D.A. meeting, this Friday. 'Mione, you want to let everyone know?"

"Sure," she said, clearly eager to steer the conversation away from Malfoy. "I'll do it. I'll make a list."

"Great," Harry said. "A list is great. You think I should start quidditch tomorrow, Ron?"

"Huh?" He'd been eyeing Malfoy again. Now the prat was drinking pumpkin juice.

"Quidditch."

"Oh. Right. Sure."

"I really want it to be good this year," he said, sitting back from his breakfast. "It's about time we won the Cup again."

"Here, here," said Gin.

He smiled at her, a bit shyly. "You want to help me with tryouts?"

"Of course. If you need me."

"I'd like you."

She smiled back at him. "Sure," she said quietly.

Ron didn't hear much of this. He was looking at Hermione now, and Hermione was plugging away at her breakfast. After several long moments, she glanced at him.

"Stop it," she snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Staring at me like that."

"I'm not."

"You are. What do you want?"

"Nothing!" he said loudly. "Jesus."

There was an uncomfortable pause in which Ron turned back to his breakfast. He was nearly done anyway.

"Hey," Harry said suddenly, wonderingly. "Is that …"

He trailed off. Ron looked up, and nearly fell off his chair. It was Lupin, sitting at the staff table, leaning over to speak in Dumbledore's ear.

"Of course!" Ron said, thoughts of Malfoy momentarily buried. "There was no new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher announced last night. He must have arrived this morning."

"I thought the parents didn't want him to work here after third year?" Hermione worried, putting her knife and fork together.

"They must be alright, now," Ron said, shrugging. He nudged Harry. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, but he didn't sound very enthusiastic. "I just realised I forgot my wand. I'll see you in Potions."

"Er – OK," agreed Ron, rather bewildered.

Harry left, running a hand through his hair, and Ron sat back. "What was that?"

"Seeing Lupin reminds him of Sirius," Ginny said simply, before finishing the last of her juice.

Ron stared at her. "How do you know that?"

Ginny flushed. "Anybody could see it. I'm going to class."

Ron turned to Hermione as she departed. How was it that everyone could understand Harry but him, his best mate? "What about you?" he said, a bit put-out. "Do you have to go to class with Malfoy too?"

"Oh, shut it, Ron," she said, standing. "I don't want to talk about it."

Then she was gone too, and Ron was left with the few remaining students at table, feeling – despite inward reassurances that he'd done nothing wrong – like an insensitive wanker.