A/N: Sorry for that uneventful chapter. I promise (hope) this one will be better.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, as usual.







The American Ministry of Magic was situated very near to the Muggle capital. It looked much the way America looked like when it was still a colony of England, with the requsite brick buildings with crown molding, white, roman-columned buildings and the like. Ron and Hermione strode up the crowded cobblestoned streets, the buzz of the crowd growing increasingly louder as they reached the Foreign Relations building. The American Foreign Ambassador to the UK had retreated to hold an emergency conference with other heads of departments. The crowds surrounding the building were reminicent of the ones surrounding the apparition point they were at earlier.

Ron hesitated. "Isn't there an easier way to get in?"

"No." Hermione's voice was flat, scanning the building for entrances. "Do you have your ID?"

"Yeah."

"Just go talk to security. They'll probably let you in." She gave him a little shove. "Go on."

"Excuse me, I'm Ron Weasley with the Daily Prophet. I'd like access to the building; I have an interview with Thierry Bradshaw." Brandishing his identification, he got the guard to call in to the building for verification.

"I suppose I'm not needed anymore, am I?" Hermione gave him a wry smile. "I guess I should get going."

"I'm coming to your flat later."

"There's no need."

"This from the girl who insisted we needed to talk? Sorry, but I don't buy it." He adjusted his tie as the guard gestured for him to follow. "I'm coming whether you like it or not."

Hermione made no reply, only disapparated.

********

Two hours later, a frustrated and angry Ron Weasley came stomping out. The Ambassador had been very brusque with him, even calling him "boy" for the majority of the conversation. He was also very tight-lipped, and it had been obvious from the very beginning that he wouldn't budge much. Ron frowned down at his notes; there wasn't much on the parchment but a few scattered sentences and a rather rude drawing of the Ambassdor's head on the body of a baby Mandrake, complete with wet dirt dribbling out of his mouth.

"Bloody git..." He muttered, removing his wand from his pocket and disapparating away. He landed with a thump in the front yard of Hermione's apartment. He straightened his robes before knocking twice on the door.

"Hey, you're Hermione's friend, right?" Her roommate grinned back at him from behind the door. "Come on in...I think she's at the library right now, but she'll be back in a few." She gestured him to sit; the door opened into the living room.

"Thanks." He took a seat on one of the couches.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink? I can get you something." Her blonde hair bounced with her as she sprung up from where she had been perched.

"Er...no thanks." He watched her wearily. She was a little too...perky for his taste, and any serious conversation he might've hoped to have with her concerning her roommate would probably not work, he reasoned.

"So where WERE you two all this time?" She flashed him an evil smile. "Or is that classified information?"

"Um..."

"That was fun!" Hermione had just burst into the room, arms laden with books. "I don't see why you dislike the school libraries so much, Angela. It's simply fascinating, they have books there that Flourish and Blotts wouldn't carry at all." She had her back turned to Ron, whose couch was situated directly behind her; obviously she was unaware of his presence. "It's very useful information, without any sort of wizarding bias to it."

"Hermione, turn around."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not falling for that again, Angela. I remember what you did to me last time."

"Argh...It's that Ron guy you like so much. He's right there!"

Ron watched interestedly as Hermione flushed pink. "I don't like Ron in that way, he's just a friend..."

"Don't lie to me, Granger. I can SO tell you two are infatuated with each other. See, his ears are turning red."

Cursing himself for having been born with such an unnatural, telling feature, he saw her turn around, eyes wide with shock.

"I didn't know you'd actually come here!" She staggered under the weight of the books a little before setting them all down on the floor.

He noticed that she had stacked them from largest to smallest, rolling his eyes. He sent her a derisive look before clearing his throat. "Can we have that talk now?"

Angela obviously had the tact of a bulldozer as she asked, "Is a heartfelt declaration of love going to come out from one of you soon? I think I should leave." Despite Hermione's vigourous protests, she left, grin splitting her face.

"So." Ron stood, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"So." She crossed her arms, watching him. "You're here. Talk."

"Yeah. Right." He looked at her, his blue eyes skimming hers for any sign of emotion. "I was thinking of what you had said earlier..." He broke off abruptly. "I just don't understand how you could just throw everything we had away just because you didn't want to be wrong."

She sighed, a tad exasperated. She had gone through this herself in the library earlier dozens of times, and could never really bring herself to an honest conclusion. "What exactly did we have, Ron? We had bickering; we had blazing rows, we had absolutely nothing in common-"

"That's what made it real to me," he interrupted. "That we were so different, and disagreed on almost everything, and yet there was...was...I don't know, there was something special that we had going on. Don't you think it's inexplicable, that we'd end up so connected?"

"We were both friends with Harry," she replied staunchly. "That's how we were connected."

Ron gave her an appraising look, making an obvious effort to keep his emotions in check. "Yeah, it was that way, in the beginning. But since around fourth year, it was so obvious."

"What is this 'it' you keep referring to?" She asked testily.

"I don't know what to call it." He was thoughtful, complatitive, in stark contrast to Hermione's fast-steaming state. "Unresolved Sexual Tension? You're the Psychology Major."

"And that's enough to build a relationship on? I'm attracted to you, and you're attracted to me. Let's keep at it until the fire burns out. Is that what you're saying?"

"Bloody hell, Hermione...I want to finish whatever we started. I wish you'd give me the chance." He watched as a wide range of emotions flitted across her face.

"Ron, I...I don't know."

He took an involuntary step towards her, quickly followed by another. Soon they were standing only inches apart.

Hermione tried very hard not to breathe too deeply; the scent of cologne and Highly Worked-Up Ron was starting to get to her. "Ron, I think-"

His eyes again bored into hers, but they were calm turquoise but a stormy, passionate slate color. His hands gripped her arms, the slightly rough pads of his fingers blazing across her back as he pulled her to him. "Don't think." And with that he crushed his mouth against her own.

Her involuntary sigh of pleasure was muffled, the heat between them intensifying as she let herself lean into him; she didn't think she could stand unsupported otherwise. When they finally pulled apart it was only to gauge each other's reactions briefly; Ron grinned devilishy, knowingly, and Hermione rolled her eyes before kissing him impulsively.

"Hermione..." He drew in a sharp breath as her fingers ran down his chest, the heat palpable even through the thickness of his dress robes. "We need to stop."

"I can't," she whispered, reaching up and twining her fingers into his hair. The neatly combed locks sprang out of place eagerly. "Besides, you started it. Finish it if you can." And suddenly she felt herself lifted off of her feet. "Ron!"

"What?" Her legs swung freely in the air as he headed down the hall. "I'm going to 'finish it,' as you so eloquently put it. Where's your bedroom?"

She fought the urge to let herself go, knowing full well where they were heading. "Shouldn't we wait a bit?"

"We've waited for years and years. Why stop now?"

Suddenly there was a loud pounding at the door. Angela's voice could be heard; her tone was fearful and timid. Hermione gave Ron a sharp poke in the ribs, forcing him to wince and put her down abruptly. He swore, but this time it earned no reprimand. They stayed quiet, listening to the words being spoken downstairs.

"Yes...yes...I'll tell her. I...I'm Muggle-born." He could hear some kind of spell being cast; no doubt it was an Unforgivable Curse. Angela was screaming in pain and Ron felt Hermione stiffen next to him, moving forward quietly.

"Don't," he whispered, and she gave him a look before leaning back up against the wall.

"It's Angela; they're hurting her. I have to go." She fished about in her pockets, searching for her wand. "No, no, no...I left it downstairs, R-" She stopped abruptly at the sound of a new voice.

A man's voice, repulsive and cruel, replied, "Don't speak up unless you're asked, you filthy little Mudblood."

Ron could recognize the drawl anywhere. "It's Malfoy."



A/N: Review!!!!!