A/N: Well, here we go. I was going to wait until I fully had this story written out, but I decided no. Besides, my beta Red kinda told me to post this . . . and you should never upset your beta. *grins* Kidding Red. Let's see . . . This will be kinda short, just a few chapters long. It was something just floating around in my head, that I felt the need to write. It will be H/Hr, filled with embarassment. I really think that's all I have to say. Read, review and receive a surprise in the next chapter (I'm serious, review, and receive a surprise). Enjoy!

Dedication: To Faye and Red . . . who both helped me make this not suck.

~@~

Knock, knock, knock.

"I'm asleep . . . I was asleep! Now go away!"

"It's me," Hermione whispered through the door, nervously looking around the empty corridor to assure herself that no one was awake.

She heard a loud sigh from the other side. It was immediately followed by a; "Come in,".

Hermione slowly pushed the door open, careful not let it creak. She stepped into the room, and quickly looked around. The usual posters of the Chudley Cannons were still hanging, though just barely. Looking closely Hermione could saw that the paint was chipping off in places, and had in others faded to a dull orange. Clothes were flung left and right, hanging over chairs, sprawled on the floor, dangling off the edges of shelves. To her left, she saw that the closet door was stuck half-open, odds and ends pouring out of it onto the floor.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, glancing at the messy stack of comics next to the cluttered desk, then back at the figure on the bed, "You too?"

Ron was lying on the bed, covered by the ripped comforter, arms folded behind his head, feet hanging off the edge. He was staring at the ceiling. "Did you know that my ceiling has 142 cracks in it?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Hermione said, edging slowly around a pile of socks to where Ron was. "I'm worried."

Ron looked away from the ceiling, and set his gaze on Hermione, who was standing above him. Giving her a quick, searching look, he scooted over, and patted the empty space next to him. Hermione sat down, and leaned against the headboard. "Me too."

"Do you think he's changed?" Hermione asked, looking over to where the redhead was laying, a line of worry set deep into her forehead.

"His letters sound the same, if that means anything," Ron replied, his own line of worry setting in, "But I don't think it does."

"I really hope he's okay."

Ron nodded and turned back to the ceiling, " You heard what my mum said. We can't expect him to be just like normal. He's been through too much."

"Yeah, I know, it's just . . . I wish he was normal is all." The bushy-haired girl started to fiddle with a hole in the blanket, "At what time is he arriving tomorrow?"

"Mum's leaving to pick him up at around eight."

"Do you think we can help him? I mean . . . do you think we'll be able to be there for him? Do you think he'll let us help him?"

Ron sighed, and looked back to Hermione. He gave her a long, searching gaze then nodded, as if to himself, "Honestly?" she nodded, "No, no, I don't think he'll let anyone help him. He's scared. And God knows I would have been too."

"Scared?"

"Scared that by letting someone get close to him, he'll put them in danger. He still blames himself for what happened to Diggory."

Hermione bolted up into a sitting position and snapped around to look at the boy beside her. "He can't! It wasn't his fault, he didn't know!"

"Even so, he still feels guilty." Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed once again, "He almost didn't want to come you know. Even after Dumbledore put up all those Protection Spells."

Hermione looked at Ron, puzzled, "Come where?"

"Here."

Leaning back in shock, the bushy-haired Gryffindor found herself mouthing wordlessly. Ron glanced at her, then swung around, until he was hanging upside down on the bed, rummaging around under it for something. She could hear his muffled voice speaking, "I have the letter he wrote somewhere around here . . ."

Hermione laid down on the bed, and looked over to where Ron's feet were hanging on the bed, "Really? He didn't?"

Ron swung back up, accidentally kicking Hermione in the leg in the process. "Oh, sorry . . . Well, I can't find the letter, but he owled me last week saying that the Dursleys had changed and were being really nice to him, and that he wanted to stay with his aunt and uncle for a bit longer." Ron gave a bitter laugh, "Of course, that'd never happen, so I owled him back saying that I didn't believe him and that we were coming to get him anyway." Ron pulled on the blanket Hermione was laying on top of and tried to crawl under it. "He could never lie well to us."

Hermione rolled over and looked at where Ron was struggling to pull the blanket out from under her. "Why though? I know he hates it at his aunt and uncle's . . . why on earth would he want to stay there?"

Ron looked back up at the ceiling and said, "Like I said, he doesn't want to put us into danger."

"How do you know so much about him? He never talks to me." Hermione also turned to the ceiling, a small frown visible on her face.

"It's all in his tone, I guess," Ron paused, then voiced the same thing Hermione had been wondering about. "When did I get so sensitive and mature?"

Hermione gave a small chuckle. "I just . . . I'm so worried about him that it's like an obsession. It's hard to explain."

"I know what you mean."

"You don't think the reason he doesn't want to come is because of . . . well, you don't think it's because of me, do you?" She asked, the line of worry etched back into her brow.

Ron rolled over and looked to where Hermione was, staring intently at the ceiling. "What? What do you have to do with anything?" He paused, eyes widening, "I didn't mean it to sound like that!" he added quickly.

Hermione nodded, still staring at the ceiling, "I know, I know." Ron rolled back over, "It's just . . . what if he's avoiding me? Because of . . . well you know . . ." Hermione felt herself blush and she stared even harder at the ceiling, "At the train station, right before he left I . . ." She paused.

After a few moments of confusion Ron burst out with an "Oh my . . ."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and said in a muffled voice "I didn't mean to kiss him, I just did. And I think that he's been avoiding me because of what . . . I think it made him uncomfortable. He hasn't answered any of my letters all summer." She rolled over so her back was facing Ron.

Ron, on the other hand, started snickering, and within moments had started laughing - rather loudly in fact. Burying his face into his pillow, the redhead tried desperately to muffle his laughter. Hermione rolled back over, and stared at his shaking form. "Ron!" She scolded, "What on earth is so funny? You're going to wake the whole house! Here I am, trying to confide in you, thinking you've matured, and you just laugh in my face!"

Ron lifted his head up and managed to gasp out, "No, I didn't mean-" before he was overcome with laughter yet again. Hermione glared at him and turned away, just as a little sniffling sound escaped her. That calmed Ron down quickly.

"Hermione!" Ron said, startled, "I didn't mean anything by it!" He looked at her back, willing her to turn back around, "It's just . . . you like Harry, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. A lot." Hermione managed to squeak out, before she found herself dissolving into tears. A worried Ron stared at her, then reached out a hesitant hand, and gently patted her arm, before snapping his hand back quickly.

"I knew it. I just knew it." he muttered, more to himself then anyone else.

Hermione rolled back over, and gave Ron a wavering smile, that just seemed to sadden Ron more then reassure him. "I'm sorry, I know how you hate crying." She said, "I'm just so worried about him. I really do like him, and I know we're just friends, but . . . oh I don't know."

"Really, it's okay. For what it's worth, I don't think Harry's avoiding you. If anything, I get the feeling he doesn't want to seem weak around you. That's probably why he's been rather . . . quiet around you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I'm still worried."

"Me too."

With that said, they both turned and stared at the ceiling, quietly counting the cracks. Before long, Hermione felt her eye lids droop, and with out knowing what was happening, she was soon fast asleep. Laying next to her, with a blanket separating them, Ron was quietly snoring, also fast asleep.