A/N: So suspicious of Mr Malfoy… What is he up to? :) … That last chapter was quite rushed, so I'm glad it was well-received. And yes, I had Harry and Ginny being walked in on – again. What can I say, I like it. It's like the broom-reconciliation. Classic plot-point. Well, read on. To use LavenderBrown's (frequent) words: naughtiness ahead (though nothing too crazy). ~sometimes I wish that I was the weather~ Shez

~

At seven o'clock, Ron was banging on Hermione's door (he wished he hadn't thought that word, 'banging') and shifting from foot to bare foot on the cold stone. He'd left his jumper and shoes in the dorm. After a little time, she opened up. Her hair was dishevelled and bushy, and she had dark not-enough-sleep marks under her eyes.

"Ron," she said faintly. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Have to talk to you. Are you awake?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, and opened the door wider. "I am now."

He went in and flopped back on her unmade bed, sighing heavily. After a moment's pause, she sat on her bed too, by his feet.

"What is it?" she asked, rubbing her face tiredly.

"Harry and Ginny," Ron replied.

"Are those two still at school, then?" she said sarcastically, and he gave her a look. She shook her head. "Sorry. It's early. Tell me what happened."

"I saw them."

"Saw them what?"

"You know – in bed together."
A long silence as Hermione's hand dropped away from her face, and her eyes literally widened.

"In bed together?" she repeated finally. "What, in the middle of –"

"No, no," he said, cutting her off. "It was afterwards. After – you know."

"Are you sure?"

"They were naked. And then they told me."

"Oh."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and then Hermione joined him lying down. He shifted over to give her some room, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he'd simply taken over her bed (not her room, or her chair, but her bed) and that they were now on top of it together.

"Ginny didn't say a word," Hermione wondered aloud. "Not one thing."

"Neither did Harry."

"And – do you think this was the first time?"

"I think so. I mean, I wouldn't know. But I think so, yes."

Another silence.

"What did you do?" she asked then.

"I walked out," he admitted.

"Were you angry?"

"I don't know. At first, but then not really. I don't know. I think Harry's good for her actually."

"Or maybe she's good for Harry," Hermione corrected him. "I've never seen him happier than he is this year."

"True."

"And it is their decision."

"I know, I know." He put his hands over his face. "Still, it's a bit hard to take, knowing your best mate is having it off with your sister."

"Especially when you're not getting any yourself," she murmured, and now he turned his head to look at her. She was blushing and facing away. He remembered that she'd brought it up last night as well.

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?" he said. She half-shrugged and the movement made his heart clench. "I hate that."

"Forget I said it," she mumbled, and he touched her arm.

"I don't – mind," he said awkwardly. "You know that, right?"

"Sure. I know." She met his eye briefly, and then wriggled a bit closer. "You said you think about it. Last night, that's what you said."

"Ah – yeah," he agreed, trying to stop his ears from flaming by force of will. "I do."

"You – think about sleeping with me?"

He nodded now, not really trusting himself to speak. Did he think about sleeping with her? It was all he wanted to do, most days. It took concentrated effort to turn his mind elsewhere. And the worst thing was, the more time he spent with her, the more he fell in love with her, and the more he wanted to be with her, properly.

"I think about it too," she said then.

They were looking at each other now, right in the eyes. Hers were such a heavy brown. Funny how he could have missed that before.

"You do?" he asked hoarsely. They were on their sides, facing each other, and in reply she slipped a hand beneath his shirt, and put it on his bare stomach.

"I want to do something," she said uncertainly. "But I don't know if I can."

Her hand was moving lower. He bit his lip, eyes still on hers. He was turned on and anxious and desperate that she wouldn't do something she'd regret later.

"Hermione …" he said, almost warningly. Her hand was still moving, and Merlin, it was down his trousers now, and her fingers brushed against him. He knew he had to speak then, before he lost the power of words.

 "Hermione," he tried again. "Don't – don't start this if you can't finish it, OK? Because – you'll drive me crazy – God –"

"Right," she murmured, and unzipped his fly with her free hand. The relief of pressure was, well, a relief, but her other hand was still there, and inside his boxers now.

"Shit," he gasped. "Hermione – don't do this – if you're not sure –"

"I am sure," she said, sounding more certain.

"And don't – just do it because of Harry and Ginny –"

"I'm not."

"And don't –"

"Ron," she said. "Shut up."

Gladly, he did so. He couldn't believe she was doing this, Head Girl Hermione, the least crazy person he knew, the least wild. And here she was, using her hands on him, making him sweat.

"Jesus," he breathed. "Hermione."

She paused briefly. "Am I doing it right?"

"For God's sake, don't stop."

She gripped him tighter, moving her hand just a little, and slowly. He almost lost it then, but managed to control himself. Why was she good at this? She continued to touch him as she pulled his pants off one leg and then the other with her free hand. He would have helped her, but was scared to move in case she stopped again.

He kept his gaze on her face. If he looked elsewhere, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay sane. Hermione seemed to be concentrating. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was studying or something. Her hand was small and surprisingly firm. He had shivers running along his spine.

And then she warmed up, and sped up, and he didn't think or say much else that was coherent until a few minutes later.

"God," he said on an exhale, falling back against her pillow. "I mean – Jesus."

She said nothing for a moment, and then moved so that she could see his face. "Was that OK?" she asked nervously, and he cupped the side of her face with one hand.

"That was the most OK thing ever," he said fervently. He pushed her hair back. "Shit. I can't believe you did that."

"Don't swear," she said softly.

"Were you planning this?"

"No."

He was still trying to catch his breath, so just pulled her down beside him, her head on his shoulder. His thoughts were reeling drunkenly.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked when he could, and she glanced at him indignantly.

"I didn't," she said. "I was making it up as I went along. And – there are books about all of it, you know."

"There are? In the library?"

"In the library."

"I should read more," he said, and she nudged him. They lay in silence for some time, and when his pulse was a little slower, he kissed her sideways. "Thank you," he said. He meant it, more than he could say. "That was – thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, rather shyly. He never saw Hermione shy, not these days. Not any day, really. It was strange and endearing, and he kissed her again – because he wanted to, and because he could.

"What were you saying about Harry and Ginny?" she said.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "And right now, I don't really care."

Her slow grin following that announcement was undeniably cheeky.

Man, he loved this girl.

~

They had a late breakfast that morning (it was Saturday), and Ron didn't even see Harry and Ginny until they went back to the common room. He and Hermione stayed very close. He felt like he didn't want to let her out of his sight for a while – he was too happy, too wrapped up in her. He almost didn't see Harry, in fact, because he was so busy watching his girlfriend, but in the end Harry called out to him.

"Hey."

Ron jumped. Harry was coming down the dormitory stairs, fully-clothed, hair still a mess.

"Oh. Hi," he said.

Harry came over and paused almost a metre from him. Hermione stood behind Ron's shoulder and watched, waiting for conversation.

"Ah – Ron –" Harry began, but Ron stopped him before he could launch into any speech.

"Harry – it's OK."

Harry raised his eyebrows, and looked from Ron to Hermione.

"What did you say?" he asked, and Ron shrugged.

"It's OK. You and Ginny I mean. You two can do what you want, as long as you're both alright. Mostly as long as she's alright."

Harry didn't say anything, just went on looking from Ron to Hermione as though his friends had sprouted extra heads.

"What do you have to say about this?" he asked Hermione eventually.

She glanced at Ron, and then shrugged herself. "I think Ron's right. It's not really any of our business, is it?"

There was a long silence, in which Harry frowned a bit suspiciously.

"So – you're saying you're not weirded out by all this?"

"Oh no," Ron said immediately. "I'm weirded out. And if you hurt her, I will kill you. But I can cope with the weirdness if I don't think about it too hard, and I'm pretty sure you won't hurt her."

"I won't," he agreed.

"Well good," Ron said brightly. "We're going outside for a while."

Harry looked at them in disbelief. "It's February."

"So?"

"It's freezing."

"It's lovely," Hermione protested, but Harry shook his head.

"No thanks. I'll stay in."

"What about Ginny?"

He looked embarrassed, despite everything they'd said. "Er – still asleep," he mumbled, and then scratched the back of his neck. "Are you guys OK?" he asked.

They flushed simultaneously, and Hermione became very busy with her scarf and gloves.

"Fine," Ron said quickly.

"Mm-hm," said Hermione. "Fine."

Harry was clearly curious, but also (in Ron's opinion) too grateful not to be having a row about the events of the previous night to ask questions.

~

That night, Ron and Harry stayed up late by the Gryffindor fire. The girls had long since wandered off together amid giggles and whispers, and were probably in Hermione's room, talking about them. He mentioned this to Harry, who grimaced.

"It makes me bloody nervous," he said. "The idea of girls talking about you after you just – you know."

"Ah," Ron commented delicately. "Right."

He'd had the same thought, but didn't voice it.

"I'm glad I don't have to hear the detailed commentary," Harry said, and sat back in his chair. Ron didn't ask anything else. It didn't matter if he agreed it wasn't his business – he still didn't want to hear about his sister having sex.

"What about you?" Harry said suddenly, and Ron glanced at him.

"What about me, what?"

"How did your Valentine evening go?"

"Oh – not bad. She liked it."

"Good." Harry was still watching him sidelong. "And what happened this morning?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were just kind of happy, is all."

Ron considered telling him, but in the end decided (to even his surprise) that he didn't want to.

"I am happy," was his eventual reply. "I love having her around so much."

"I know," Harry said. "I can see it. You're not paying much attention in class, are you?"
Ron sighed. "That's bad. I have to work for N.E.W.T.s. Maybe I should get Hermione to tutor me again."

Harry snorted. "For some reason, I don't think her 'tutoring' is going to get you very far."

"Shut it," he commented lazily, and then remembered something. "Hey, Malfoy spoke to me yesterday."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Apologised for coming onto Hermione."

"Eh?"

"I know."

"I've never heard Malfoy apologise. Maybe once. Never to you."

"I know. I don't fucking trust him, Harry."

"Settle down," Harry said, in as calming a voice as he could muster up. "He probably is sick of all the tension and just wants to get over it."

"I don't think so. It's giving me the willies."

"Well, we'll keep an eye on him," Harry sighed. "How about that?"

"Right. A good eye. He'd better bloody behave himself."

"I think he will," Harry said confidently. "He's a different guy than he used to be."

Ron was about to protest when there was a sound from somewhere in the school grounds – a sort of thwomp, followed by a single, sharp bark. It was definitely coming from outside rather than the corridors, and neither Ron or Harry paused to discuss it. They both ran for the nearest window and stuck their heads out into the cold air.

"I can't see anything," Ron said, confused, but then Harry was punching him in the shoulder and smiling widely.

"Merlin," he breathed, and sprinted away and out of the common room.

"Harry!" Ron called, bemused, and then turned back to the window to see whatever Harry had.

It was then that he spotted it.

The thwomp had been Hagrid's door slamming open. The bark had been Fang's return. There was a light shining from inside the gamekeeper's hut and even at this distance Ron could see the pair of huge fur boots that had been left in the doorway.

Hagrid was back at Hogwarts.