A/N: Glad you approved. I promise this won't be a smut-fest, or anywhere close to (sorry about the porn Meegs!!!). I feel much better, thank you for all your well-wishing (stupid colds are getting everybody). Let's continue. ~could have met you in a sandbox~ Shez  PS – Fav show is The Guardian. Simon Baker gives Australians a good name.

~

Ron came out of Hermione's room still tugging one shoe on, and was so distracted that he almost didn't see Malfoy. The Slytherin was leaving his own room, his uniform immaculate, and his hair swept sleekly back. He didn't stop when he saw Ron, although he could have sworn there was a sort of flicker in the Head Boy's eye.

When he passed, Ron thought he'd be gracious, and gave him a nod. Malfoy returned it, and soon disappeared down the stairs.

He couldn't help feeling just the tiniest bit smug.

"Hey," said Hermione, coming out behind him.

"Hey."

"Was that Malfoy?"

"Ah – yeah."

"He didn't come to get me for patrols last night," Hermione mused. "Maybe he didn't do them."

Maybe he heard us, Ron thought, and was immediately horrified. He hoped Hermione had some kind of noise-containing charm on the walls. Why she would have this, he had no idea, but he still hoped it. She was a pretty organised girl. He briefly remembered her contraceptive charm forethought, and grinned.

"What?" she asked, a bit warily, and Ron shook his head. He didn't want to embarrass her.

"Nothing."

She flattened a piece of hair that was sticking up around his ear. "Well," she said, "you don't want to be late for Dumbledore."

"OK. I'll go."

"OK."

He didn't move. His feet were fastened to the ground. Hermione raised her eyebrows expectantly at him, and then laughed a little.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't want to go out to the day."

"We have to. Lots of things to do."

"I know. I'm just – thank you."

He kissed her cheek, then kissed her properly, and then left before he could say something more inadequate. He was jogging down the stairs when he heard her call out from the top.

"Ron?"

He stopped and turned to look at her.

"Yes?"

She smiled and sort of shrugged. "Thank you."

There was a short silence, and then he smiled back. "OK."
~
Ron knocked uncertainly on Dumbledore's door. It was very quiet in the Headmaster's room, and he wasn't sure that anyone was in there until the old man's voice echoed out into the hall.

"It's open, Mr Weasley."

Sure enough, when Ron pushed on the door, it creaked inward and he was able to step inside. He'd been in Dumbledore's office before, but almost always with Harry or Hermione, and he felt rather out of place among the tall bookshelves and fancy equipment. Dumbledore was standing by Fawkes' perch, watching the bird plume its feathers. Ron stood at about a metre's distance from him.

A full minute later, the Headmaster still hadn't said anything, and Ron was beginning to wonder about him.

"Er – Professor?" he said, and Dumbledore looked up.

"My apologies," he said. "Lost in thought. Thank you for coming. I hope you weren't – otherwise engaged?"

Ron blinked at him, and then shook his head wordlessly. Sometimes he had a feeling that Dumbledore knew everything that went on in his school, and that worried him more than a little.

"Good," Dumbledore continued briskly, turning away from Fawkes to face him. "Now, Ronald, there was a particular matter I wished to discuss with you."

"Yes, Professor?"

"I am concerned for Harry."

Ron nodded, and then had to ask. "What exactly are you concerned about, sir?"

"Several things. Largely the way in which he has taken news of Voldemort's activities, and Hagrid's return."

"Ah."

Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Yes. His foremost reaction was to ignore the issue. His next was to defy it. Professor Lupin and I have asked him repeatedly to attend further Defence classes, in preparation for –" Here he paused, very briefly, and then went on: "In preparation for whatever may lie before him."

"I see," Ron said, even though he didn't really.

"I understand," Dumbledore said, "that your sister has been very supportive and patient, and that yourself and Miss Granger are doing your best, particularly with all the pressure of N.E.W.T.s and quidditch and so forth."

Ron hadn't given a thought to N.E.W.T.s for days, and then it was fairly fleeting (along the lines of: 'Those tests are coming up soon, aren't they? Oh look, lunch'). He forced himself to concentrate.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said. "I'm a little confused. What exactly – er –"

"Does this have to do with you?" Dumbledore finished for him. "I suppose I'm asking, Mr Weasley, if you would be able to have a word with him."

"A word?"

"He doesn't want to hear from his teachers at the moment, Ron," Dumbledore said, and he sounded rather sad. "And we thought, perhaps –"

"He won't listen to us," Ron interrupted, alarmed. He didn't realise he'd cut off the Headmaster until he was halfway through his explanation and then he couldn't stop. "You don't know what he's like, Professor. He's impossible to talk to when it comes to all of that. Voldemort, I mean. He's impossible at the moment. Won't have a bar of it."

"I understand," said Dumbledore. "I don't suggest that you sit him down and discuss it. He's like his father in that way – restless. Perhaps 'a word' was the wrong term to use. Something simpler would be best."

"Simpler," Ron repeated. He had no idea how he would manage this, and Dumbledore must have seen it in his face, because he waved a hand at him.

"It's alright, Mr Weasley," he said, a bit wearily. "As it is, you are doing very well. Continue to support him and be an honest friend, as you have been. He needs friends around him at this time."

There was a long silence, and then Dumbledore turned back to Fawkwes, as though he was dismissed. Ron began to move away, but hesitated in the doorway.

"Professor … is there something going on with Harry that we don't know about?"

Dumbledore met his eye and nodded. "Yes," he said frankly. "There is. It's very important, and it involves Voldemort. I do ask, on his behalf, that you be patient with Harry. It – it is rather a lot to deal with, for a seventeen year old."

The Headmaster looked away again, and Ron still didn't understand, and didn't want to be there anymore. He had the feeling that Dumbledore didn't want him there anymore either. As he left, he heard Dumbledore speak.

"Thank you for coming."

"That's alright," he said over his shoulder, and hurried away.

~

At breakfast, Hermione was nearly finished, but Harry and Ginny were just starting.

"Hey," she said when she saw him, and patted the place beside her. He slid into the spot.

"Hi."

"What did Dumbledore want?"

"Oh – nothing important." Ron looked pointedly at Harry, and Hermione changed the subject.

"I saved bacon for you," she said, moving the pieces from her plate to his. "I had to risk life and limb for them, but they're saved."

"Thank you," he said appreciatively, and immediately ate a bit, before speaking to her with his mouth full. "You do realise that the platters refill every quarter hour or so."

"They do?"

"Yeah. You're just never around long enough at breakfast to notice."

"Oh." She flushed. "Oh well, never mind."

He swallowed and leant over to kiss her temple, leaving a bacon-y mark on her skin. She rubbed it off immediately, and he grinned at her.

"I'd much rather eat the bacon you saved," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, her own smile returning. "But I think you can get your own from now on."

She turned to speak to Ginny on her left, and Ron, still looking in her direction, saw Harry over the two girls' heads. He was staring into the distance with a fierce sort of concentration – like at the Ravenclaw quidditch match – and wasn't moving. His hands clutched his knife and fork too tightly. He looked very odd.

Ron whistled, and Harry snapped back into life.

"What?" he said, and Ginny glanced at him.

"What?"

"Oh – I don't know," Harry replied, shaking his head as though to clear it.

Ginny and Hermione began to talk once more, and Harry went on with his breakfast.

Ron frowned to himself, thinking about this lapse, and the previous, when he felt Hermione's hand on his knee.

It wasn't doing anything. It was just resting there, in a gesture that was part comfort, part possession, part reassurance.

He put his over hers, and then she turned her hand palm up and linked her fingers through his.

He ate the rest of his breakfast with just a fork that morning. His left hand was busy holding hers.

~

After quidditch practice that afternoon, Harry and Ron were walking back to the castle when Harry brought up nocturnal activities.

"So. You and Hermione," he said.

"Yeah. That's about four months now," Ron commented innocently. He knew exactly what 'You and Hermione' meant, but if Harry wanted to talk about it, he was going to make it trickier for him.

"Right." He paused. "Ginny told me."

"Told you?"

"You know," Harry said impatiently.

"Yeah," Ron conceded. "I know."

There was a momentary silence and then Harry looked sideways at him. "So," he said, "how was it?"

"How was it?"

"Yeah."

"It was – good. Excellent. Really good."

"Well, good."

"Mm."
Another silence.

"Ron," he said suddenly, "can I come home with you for the summer?"

This took him by surprise.

"Of course you can," he said. "Where did you think you were going?"

"Not back to the Dursleys, that's for sure," Harry muttered darkly. Ron was inclined to agree.

"You don't have to go back there again," he said firmly. "Who'd want to?"

"Not me. I just – I want to make plans. For afterwards," Harry went on, quite enigmatically. "I want to make plans – so that – my life isn't on hold, you know. Waiting."

"On hold?"

"I – doesn't matter. I just want to make plans – as if I know I'm going to be around this summer."

He said this last in such a rush that Ron almost didn't hear him, but when he had absorbed the words, he physically stopped. Harry stopped with him and kept his gaze on the ground.

"You are going to be around this summer," Ron said indignantly. "What are you talking about?"

"I know," Harry said. "Yeah, I know that."

"Well, what did you mean then?"

"Nothing. I didn't mean anything."

"Harry! Jeez – for fuck's sake, that's a bit grim, isn't it?"

Harry said nothing, and Ron resisted the urge to slap him into optimism. "Voldemort's not your job, OK?" he said eventually. "Other people are going to handle the war, and you don't have to assume that it all depends on you. Alright?"

At this point, Harry looked up, and to Ron's shock there were tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but then shut it again, clearly thinking better of it. Very abruptly, he swung onto his broom and flew all the way back to the castle, leaving Ron to stare after his disappearing back.

What on earth was all this about? 

~

Ron found Hermione in the library. She was at a table, almost entirely surrounded by books, and he had to move some out of the way before she even noticed he was there.

"Oh, hello," she said absently.

"Hi."

"I just realised that N.E.W.T.s are on in a month," she explained, sounding a bit feverish. "I mean, I knew they were, but I haven't been thinking about it. And I don't know anything. So I thought I should get some study in when I can. Extra information can be extremely important, I've heard. I have to learn about –"

"'Mione," he interrupted, and she focussed properly on him.

"What?"

"You're a genius. Don't work yourself up. Didn't you feel better not stressing about it?"

"Feeling better isn't the point. Passing seventh year is the point."

"You'll pass like nobody's business," he said, and closed up the book she was reading. "Me, maybe I should worry. But you do all your homework and all your study and you're going to be fine."

She breathed a long, heavy sigh and brushed hair out of her face. Her inky fingers left a blue smudge on her cheek, and it was so cute that he didn't want to tell her.

"Alright," she said. "I'll stop for a while."

"Good. Now help me with Harry."

"What about him?"

"He's being really weird. He said he wasn't sure he was going to be around next summer. I'm just – you don't think he'd –"

"Commit suicide?" Hermione murmured, and Ron winced.

"Could you not say that please?"

Hermione was shaking her head. "No," she said, "I don't think it's that. I'm sure. It's something else bothering him. Ginny was telling me how odd he's been. He told her that she should dump him and find somebody else one night."

"What? Why?" Ron asked wildly, and Hermione shrugged.

"Something about it being better for her. She dismissed the idea as soon as it was out of his mouth of course, but you should have heard her talking about it. She's crazy with worrying about him. And have you noticed his little black-outs?"

"Yeah, I have!" Ron said urgently, relieved that she'd seen them too. "That's what happened in the quidditch game. And at breakfast this morning."

"It's odd, like he's totally – not there. Oblivious. And Ginny was telling me – ah –" She flushed and motioned for him to lean closer. "Ginny told me that it happened before, when they were in the middle of – you know."

"You're kidding."

"It was like his mind was gone, she said. She had to pinch him to bring him back, but she doesn't want to tell anyone in case Harry finds out. He'd hate it if he thought everyone was fussing."

Ron bit his lip. "Maybe we should tell Dumbledore."

"I was thinking Professor Lupin," Hermione suggested.

"Oh, good idea. Good. Let's do that."

"What was Dumbledore saying this morning?"

"To do this," Ron said, standing up. "Watch out for Harry. Come on, let's find Lupin now. I want to figure this out before he ends up barmy."

They left the library purposefully, Ron slowing his steps a little so that she could keep up.