A/N: Mmmm…reviews. Thanks to everyone who left one. I honestly didn't think this piece of crap would elicit so much attention. Whee, unexpected praise! To one reviewer, who mentioned my very, very basic French- I learnt it in year seven as well! Except we used a book called Arc-en-ciel. It's all I can do to remember how to say "Hello, my name is Fleur." To another reader, who pointed out (very graciously) the fact that Ron and Hermione seem to be having one too many fights, THANK YOU! I was waiting for someone to pick up one of the many, many shite things about this fic. And to another reader, who accused me of using the phrase "Oh my GOD!" because it was on "Friends", um…no I didn't? "Friends" didn't invent the phrase, you know. Weird.
Anyway, thanks again. It'll end soon, I promise. We've just got to get past the wedding.

*

"First bloody Hermione, then bloody Harry," Ron mumbled, watching Harry stalk off into the orchard. "Why is everyone on my case today?"

His sinking heart told him he knew the answer. Something was aching inside of him far more than his injured face. God, but she could hit! No wonder Malfoy had been scared of Hermione ever since she hit him in third year. Ron was scared too.

He'd said the wrong thing again. This time, Ron doubted she'd follow him to the lake and smile at him. This time, Ron doubted if she would make everything all better by forgiving him. He didn't deserve it, of course, but completely aside from that, he was sure he'd hurt her feelings this time, way beyond anything he'd done while dating Parvati, which was amazing, because some of the things he'd done then would rival Crabbe's last potions assignment in stupidity.

How had he said what he said? It's nothing, just nothing, and all our hard work was for nothing.

"Oh, god…" Ron felt like throwing up. There was that guilty feeling again, burning a hole in the bottom of his stomach and sucking out all his insides. But it was a worse feeling than before, this time. He knew why.

He'd changed for Hermione, and they'd fixed everything, and everything may have been different, but it was better, and then yesterday, on the way to the Burrow, something else had changed too. The fact that Hermione was more than Just a Friend didn't bother him anymore. In fact, the fact that Hermione was more than Just a Friend was positively appealing. In fact, Hermione's brand new More-Than-Just-A-Friend status as so appealing he would have been willing to admit it to her.

Not now, though.

"Hello, I'm Ron Weasley, World's Biggest Git," Ron muttered savagely as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror in the front hall. Tired of standing in the snow, he'd gone inside with the intention of sitting in front of the fire, having a huge long think, and working out what he was going to say. What was it Hermione always told him? "Write it down, Ron. It clears the head." That's what he'd do. He'd write it down.

The prospect of handing Hermione a letter made his heart sink even more. A flimsy piece of parchment to repair the damage he'd done? The same kind of damage he'd caused to their precious friendships before?

"Furthermore to being the World's Biggest Git, I have this uncanny ability to behave like I was born without a brain. Re-sodding-markable, isn't it?" Ron threw himself down on the couch, fighting the urge to bite the cushions. No doubt his mother would throw him out- she'd been cleaning the house from top-to-tail in anticipation of a visit from relatives. No sooner had he put his head in his hands and prepared himself for a really long think, however, than the fireplace spewed forth with green fire, spraying Ron with ash. The blast threw Ron back over the couch, his legs flipping over his head, and he landed in a heap onto the floor.

"Ow!"

"G'day, Ron!"

"Ron, what are you doing on the floor, Ron?"

"Ron- you've ashes on your pants!"

"Ooh, well, if it isn't Ron Weasley!" Ron was hoisted to his feet, coughing wildly, and blinking ashes out of his eyes. He opened them and immediately wished he could close them again. It was his Aunt Mildred, moustache and all. She kissed him on both cheeks. "Molly, dear?"

"Mildred!" His mother rushed out to meet her sister. They hugged, and immediately launched into a conversation about Ron's height.

"Now, hasn't he grown? I wouldn't have recognised him!"

"Certainly has. I remember bringing him home from the hospital, and here he is now, a young man!"

"Och! Isn't that the way, Molly?"

Uncle Machivellia was a small man with a small moustache and brown hair, who tended to fade into the background. He murmured a hello to Ron and then escaped to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. His offspring, to Ron's chagrin, did not follow suit. He was usually spared the torture of seeing his cousins by the fact that they lived in Australia, and generally only managed to visit once every two or three years, meeting up at funerals or weddings- Ron silently cursed Bill for falling in love. Michael, who was the oldest at thirteen, folded his arms and looked at Ron, an expectant expression on his sunburnt face.

"Yes?' said Ron, wiping ash off his nose.

"Snow. We want to see some snow."

"Go outside, there's lots of it." Ron said narkily, throwing himself back down on the couch. The four of them rushed outside, exclaiming in delight at the white covered ground. Ron felt so exhausted he oucnd't even work up a commiserating/amused "Tuh! Australians…" type of remark. (As an Englishman, he reserved his right to make those kinds of comments.) "Ron!" his mother snapped, and Ron leapt to his feet, startled. "Ron! Go outside and entertain your cousins!"

"Mu-uum…"

"I won't hear it Ron Weasley! And another thing! Make sure they don't mess up Percy's room- I want it nice for him when he comes home."

Ron couldn't help wrinkling his nose in disgust. Perfect Percy had gone to live in London at the beginning of the year. There had been a fight with his father, over the Ministry, and its denial over You-Know-Who's return. Percy remained in contact with them of course, but it was usually only a smug letter telling them that the Ministry had thwarted more Death Eater activity up in the mountains, or that the Dementors had undergone special reprogramming, so that they would remain loyal to the Ministry at whatever cost. Ron had forgotten about Percy, and his non-appearance. Surely, though, he wouldn't miss the wedding…?

Ron went outside and grudgingly held a snowball fight with his cousins- "It's like cold wet sand!" they kept on exclaiming, in delight- though his mind was in the orchard, with Harry and Hermione. What on earth were they doing? Having one of their grown-up conversations? They weren't talking about him were they? Of course they are, he thought, miserably, think about what you said to her this morning, gimp. He deserved all he got. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if they came back with a mutual agreement not to talk to him.

"Oy, watch it, Ron!" yelled Malachy as a snowball hit him in the side of the head. Ron's ear stung with the cold, but he felt that he deserved it. "Think I'll go inside," he murmured, shaking a clod of snow out of his ear, and leaving his cousins to enjoy the snow on their own. He didn't stay inside for very long though. Cousin Leroy had arrived- an insufferable youth on his father's' side with a penchant for talking about himself, and no other penchants to speak of. Leroy fancied himself somewhat of a bad-boy, because he owned a Muggle car and had learnt to drive it, which, obviously, didn't impress Ron in the slightest. His girlfriend- a thin, blonde, bubbly creature- tittered away while Leroy grabbed Ron and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, Ron, how's my favorite cousin?"

"I don't know, how is he?"

"Durrrr," Leroy drawled, as if Ron were stupid, "I meant you, you dork."

"Really? If I really am your favourite cousin, would you please walk off a bridge for me?" Ron mumbled. Leroy guffawed loudly, and his girlfriend shrieked, and Ron ducked out of Leroy's embrace before he could figure out that Ron was serious. He ran into Ginny before he got to the front door, who grabbed his arm and dug her nails in. "Ron! Where are you going?"

"Outside- got to get outside-"

"Oh no you don't! Don't leave me with Aunt Mildred- she's got this horrible breath and she always tells me how-"

"Ginny!" Aunt Mildred bore down on the two of the like a giant floral hippo. "Well, well, well! Still quite the young man, aren't you? When on earth are you going to develop into a woman?" She grabbed Ginny around the waist and poked her with a fat finger. "No breasts! Still as flat as a ten year old boy!" Ginny looked like she was about to burst into tears. Ron fled, feeling about as embarrassed as Ginny looked. Why did aunts always have to say the word breasts? He made it to the back door, just escaping Uncle Machivellia, who started to ask him about school. "Here's my report! See for yourself! Bye!" Ron made a mad dash for it and threw himself out the back door, slamming it behind him. He leant against it, feeling like the man who had just escaped gunfire, barbed wire, and rabid dogs to get out of prison. Unfortunately, at that moment, Harry and Hermione emerged from the orchard- arm in arm.

Ron felt such a pang as he saw them that he gasped. Confused, for a moment or two, he stared helplessly at them. Arm in arm? What did that mean? It certainly wasn't good news for him, that was for bloody certain. Harry and Hermione were friends, always had been- he didn't think anything romantic would be going on between them for a second. But they were so close…surely their hatred against himself would be fortified if they bonded together? As they drew closer, he gave them a curt nod and escape back inside, feeling, unsurprisingly, like the man who escaped prison through gunfire, barbed wire and rabid dogs, only to get hit by a bus. He stared unconsciously at the back door he had slammed behind himself for a moment or two. Should he stay and talk to them? No, that was stupid, a much more sensible plan of action would be to go upstairs and hang himself. Only then did he realize that loud voices were coming from the living room.

He turned just as the back door opened and Harry and Hermione came in. Ron forced himself not to look around and walked ahead of them, into the kitchen, where his cousins were sitting around the table in silence, embarrasedly listening to the row in the living room.

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

Grandpa Polonius, who had obviously arrived while Ron had been outside, spat onto the ground. "Something's up with yer brother."

"Which one?"

"I dunno, the tall one."

"Which one?"

Grandma Peony spoke up. "He means young Perry, dear. The one with the lisp."

"Percy?" With a feeling of doom, Ron stalked into the living room. He could hear Harry and Hermione hurry after him. The scene that greeted their eyes was upsetting, to say the least. Mrs. Weasley was on her knees, fair screaming into the fire. Bill stood above her, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded- which he always did when things turned into a row. Fred and George were slumped on the couch. Ginny was holding Charlie's hand, nearly in tears, as they stood behind the twins. His dad was sitting on the mismatched armchair, his head in his hands. And Percy- well, Percy's head was in the fire. And it was not delivering good news.

"I'm sorry mother," it said, obviously not sorry at all. "Completely aside from that, it would be unforgivable if I was to take time off work in the next few days, things are terribly busy. We're getting a lot of things done." Ron's heart began to pound as he inferred what he could from the smug statement. Did that mean..? Percy wasn't going to…? "Who's that who just walked in?" said Percy's head.

Ron managed to find his voice. "It's me….'s me Ron, Perce…"

"Ah, Ron. You might as well know now. I'm not coming to the wedding."

Ron's voice sounded oddly hoarse when he answered. "Because of the Ministry."

"Because of lots of things, actually. You wouldn't understand."

Ron's hands clenched. "I'm sure I wouldn't, Perce. I don't understand you, for a start." His father was looking at him. So was Bill.

"No need to get persnickety, Ron." Percy's voice was cold. "I just don't feel it would be right, for me, as such a senior member of the Ministry, to be associating with…well…"

"Your family?" Ron was heavily sarcastic. "Nah, you're right. We wouldn't want that. Not your horrid little lower-class family from the country, eh, Perce? Not when you're knocking around with big-wigs like Lucius Malfoy, right? Not when we've got The Harry Potter staying with us, as well as our Muggle-born mates." Colin Creevey and Lee Jordan, who were standing awkwardly in the corner with Henrietta and Angelina, both shifted uncomfortably. Ron was sure Hermione was wearing a similar expression to theirs.

"If you're going to be immature about this…"

"Immature? Immature?" Ron could barely contain his rage. His voice was shaking. So were his hands. "Jesus Christ, Percy! Our eldest brother is getting married, for God's sake, and you want to play Let's-Be-Better-Than-My-Family-because-I'm-In-Denial, or haven't you and your ever so smart Ministry friends figured it out yet? This is not the time to start disowning the rest of us!"

"I'm not disowning anyone."

"What a shame!" Ron snapped, "because personally, I'd love a good disowning right about bow. How about it, guys?" he swiveled around to the rest of his family. "Anyone up for a good disowning?" Fred gave George a nudge. They raised their hands. "Brilliant!" shouted Ron, "This is what I call family bonding!"

"Ron…" Ginny whispered. "Oh please don't, Ron…"

"If that's the way you feel about it, Ron," Percy started, in a nonchalant tone. His voice was shaking too, though. Ron rounded on the fireplace and raised his voice even louder.

"Don't you dare make it out to be my fault, Percy. It was your decision to go to London, your decision to side with Fudge, and it's your decision now- you can come to the wedding and stay part of our lives."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I don't care," Ron said bitterly. "Get lost, I suppose. Go and get married to a Death Eater. Go and sit in your stupid flat and pretend everything's all right, and go and remind yourself that you've worked so hard for all you've got. A house, a job, loads of money- but no family. Personally, I know what I'd rather have! I guess-" he tried to calm down. "I guess that's what makes me a Weasley."

"Good fer you, son!" shouted Grandpa Polonius from the kitchen.

Percy sneered- an odd thing to see on his face, because, as far as Ron knew, Percy had never sneered in his life. "A trite sentiment, Ron, though not surprising. You Hogwarts students go around spouting your ridiculous dogma about what you think is right. There is no right and wrong, only power- and those too weak to seek it. Dumbledore's a fool, and so is anyone who chooses to believe him."

A lot of things happened at once. Ron launched himself at the fire, Harry and Hermione launched themselves at Ron, at the same time deftly blocking Fred and George, who had leapt to their feet, obviously with the same intention as Ron. Ginny burst into tears- Charlie looked like he was close too. Ron was screaming- he would never remember what, but he was screaming loud enough to make his throat bleed, things he probably shouldn't have said in front of his mother, but things, nonetheless, he felt should be said.

"YOU SELFISH SON OF A BITCH, GO TO HELL, YOU WORHTLESS PIECE OF SH-"

Ron was bundled outside by Harry and Hermione, where he fell into the snow unceremoniously. The flow of abuse stopped abruptly, and Ron was left trying to catch his breath. The other two both fell by his side immediately. "Ron?"

"God dammit…" Ron slowly got to his feet, his fingers going numb from the cold. "Oh, man…oh that was…."

"Terrible," Hermione said. She was shaking her head, looking as though she might cry. "I can't believe it, it's just so…" Inside, the row was still raging. Ron's father's voice joined his mother's- and it took a lot to get Arthur Weasley as angry as he sounded. Ron pushed back his hair, feeling very suffocated, suddenly. He rolled back his sleeves, and would have taken off his shoes if he didn't know how cold the ground was. He felt like he'd just thrown up or something. A veritable smorgasbord of emotions had just spewed forth from him and now he was left feeling empty, and unsatisfied. Ron wasn't even left asking the usual questions, "how can Percy do this to us?", "Why on earth did you stop me?", "What the hell is wrong with him?". Instead, he just felt desolate. Sad.

But he shouldn't have felt like that, should he? He and Percy had always been at loggerheads with each other, surely it should be a delight to disown him?

"I really…have changed." Ron mumbled, feeling unsteady on his feet. There was too much to think about and he suddenly wanted the world to stop so he could sit down and figure it out. Harry and Hermione were watching him with anxious expressions. He couldn't say anything to them now, not now. His ignoble display in the living room had surely confirmed their worst thoughts: Ron was an insensitive brute. (But of course, they already knew that from the mistakes he kept on making. Only an insensitive brute would tell Hermione that all that work she'd put in for him was "nothing." Nothing? Hah!)

"Ron?" Hermione was making warm, reassuring circles on his back with her hand. "Say something."

Ron would have liked to hug her, then. Ron needed a hug, then- some form of physical reassurance would be nice, so maybe he could ground his thoughts and get some bearings. But no- he and Hermione didn't hug. Shouldn't hug. "Think I should be…by myself…" he mumbled, gently removing her hand from his waist. He looked at Harry, who also reached out his hand.

"You're all right? Yeah?" he asked, giving Ron and gentle slap on his forearm.

Ron nodded, slowly. "Yeah, course. Just need to think."

*

He went to the orchard of course. And he didn't think, either.

He could barely feel. It was as though during the scene in the living room he'd gotten rid of all his emotions. He was numb. Last week Percy had been Percy- pompous, misguided, bumbling, but still his brother. Now, Ron barely recognised the face that had been in the fire, with its alien sneer and cold voice. And insulting Dumbledore! Percy would have sooner walked through London naked than insult Dumbledore. The old Percy, anyway- what had happened to his brother? An odd shiver passed through Ron as he remembered what Percy had said. There is no right and wrong, only power, and those too weak to seek it… Was it Ron's imagination, or had he heard the phrase used somewhere before? (A flash of sitting in the hospital wing, in first year, Harry wide-eyed in the bed, Ron's hands shaking, Hermione frightened by just an account of what had happened she had had to grab his arm and squeeze it until her nails dug in. "And then, Voldemort said-" Harry grinned as Ron interrupted suddenly. "Will you stop saying his name? Please?")

Whenever Percy and Ron had fought, Ron would always end up seething with anger for hours afterward. Now Ron thought he would barely be able to work up the energy to stomp his foot, or even swear about Percy. It seemed to Ron that in doing so, he would be seething about a total stranger. The entire situation felt unworthy of the energy. He remembered, suddenly, being lectured by Bill while they were visiting him in Egypt. Percy had just gotten the letter saying he was going to be Head Boy and behaving insufferably, and they'd just had a huge argument at the bottom of the Sphinx. Bill had had to sit Ron down underneath a shady tree and attempt to calm him down, under his mother's instructions. "Listen Ron," Bill had said, staring out into the shimmering sand, "you'll get older, and I'm not saying you should stop getting angry, but you've got to learn to control your temper. You can't be having tantrums like that for the rest of your life. You'll grow up without realizing it." Ron had been fuming. "But Percy is such a-"

Bill had held up a hand. "I don't care what Percy is. This is about you. One day, you'll find you just don't want to expend the energy throwing a fit, because you'll know it's not worth it. Then you'll know that you've grown up."

"Grow up," people were constantly telling him. "Use your brains. Stop being so immature." Despite the fact that he was in the depths of the orchard, Ron could still hear faint yells coming from the Burrow. And suddenly, he grinned. Despite having inherited his father's looks, he had definitely got his mother's temper. But maybe- maybe- like Bill had said, maybe he had grown up. Wasn't that what Bill had done? He had managed to curb the infamous Weasley temper, and there was barely anyone Ron respected more on the planet. Professor Trelawney, his less-than-able Divinations teacher, was always saying the everything happened for a reason. And though he was loathe to apply anything Professor Trelawney told him to real life, he wondered if it could have been true. Maybe, everything-Parvati Patil, fighting with his friends, the endless hours of working, and getting into scrape after scrape with Hermione- maybe it was all part of growing up?

And once again, Ron found himself thinking it, except this time it came with crystal clarity, so much that Ron found himself sucking in a deep breath.

I really have changed.

The reason why could hardly be denied- Hermione. She was the driving force behind all his actions for the past few weeks. Harry's words to him that morning snapped back with the same stinging effect they'd had when he said them- "You seem to have this thing where you don't appreciate her. Unfortunate, really, since she practically breathes in and out for you." With an effort, Ron tried to ignore the guilt that sizzled away inside of him and focus on what Harry could have meant. (Despite his worst fears, Ron wasn't stupid. He knew as well as the next person that Hermione had gone above and beyond her obligation to him as a friend.) All Ron had had to do was bellow, "Hermione! Come here, I need you!" and she would come running. "What's up? Oh, you're not still stuck on question seven, are you?" And Ron would say, "No…yes." And she would giggle and together they would go through it. And sometimes, Ron would get the answer before her. (The irony wasn't lost on him- that, for the past weeks or so, he had been admitting out loud to the entire Gryffindor tower what he had been thinking in his head, and in his heart. Hermione, come here, I need you!) And yet obviously he had missed something. He had gotten no inkling that Hermione breathed in and out for him. But quite clearly…he had missed something. And he didn't intend to go on missing it, so he knew that before he did anything else, he had to fix the damage he done this morning.

He wrote it down, eventually. Happening to have a spare parchment and quill in his pocket, he leant on the old oak stump and wrote down everything he wanted to say to Hermione. (Actually, that wasn't true, there were lots more things he wanted to say to her, but the fact of it was he could barely admit them to himself.) Which was why around three o'clock that day found Ron timidly venturing into the girl's tent, clutching the crumpled parchment in his hand, which had taken him the best part of a day to write.

Hermione was sitting at the dresser near her bed, brushing her hair. She looked up as he came in, and then got to her feet. "You okay, Ron?" she asked, going to him at once.

Ron pushed her arms down when she raised them for a hug. The hurt in her eyes was hard to miss, even though she whirled around quickly and picked up her hairbrush again. (It wasn't as though he didn't want to hug her- god! Of course he wanted to hug her! He could have held her in his arms for the rest of his life, if she would let him. But he couldn't let her. He didn't deserve it, of course, not after what he had done to her this morning. She deserved an apology, first.) Ron cleared his throat, and read from the crumpled parchment in his hand.

"Dear Hermione," he read, in a voice still hoarse from the morning's row. She tore her eyes away from her reflection in the mirror at once, staring at him in what could only be bewilderment. Ron continued. "You must be tired of hearing it now, but I'm sorry. I know what I did wrong this morning and I know that realising that it was wrong too late is also another thing I've done wrong. Even another thing I've done wrong is not appreciate you properly- or at least, not let you know just how much I appreciate you." He chanced a glance at her. She was staring into the mirror again, brushing her hair, with quick, harsh strokes, ripping the ends. "The reason," and here Ron had to clear his throat again, "the reason I never told you how much I appreciate you is because I never thought I would be able to put it into words. You've done more for me than anyone else I've known ever has in the time I've been alive and no amount of thanking you will justify it. You…" he had to stop for a moment as he read the next words on the page. Had he really written it? God, he couldn't say it. It was too full on. He wasn't ready to admit it, was he? "You…" he looked up at her again, banging a brush through he ends of her hair, staring resolutely ahead, her back straight and strong, her hands working roughly through the knots. He wanted to look at her face, into her eyes. "Hermione," Ron said, in a voice he knew cracked pathetically, and sounded about as persuasive as the bleat of a lamb. But something in his tone must have prompted her to turn around and look at him, because she did. Ron wanted nothing more right then than to take her in his arms and…

And WHAT, Ron Weasley?

He didn't know. He couldn't read anymore. "Let me," he said, striding over to her.

"Ron- what-?" Hermione gasped as he took the hairbrush from her hand. Her hair was thicker than Ron expected, and knottier, but surely tearing a hairbrush through it wasn't going to do any good. He took a clump of hair (gently) in his hand and then, slowly, gently, pulled the teeth of the brush through it.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione made a move to take the brush from him, and he pulled it out of her reach.

"I'm brushing your hair."

"Oh please…" Hermione said, though she was trembling. Ron could feel the heat emanating from her shoulders and the back of her graceful neck. "Since when do you care about my hair?" The question was jovial, but her voice shook beneath it. Ron suddenly found himself fighting the desperate urge to lean down and bury his face into her neck.

"I care about all of you," he said evenly. For a moment or two, Ron thought she was going to leap up and slap him again. But she didn't. She just let out a sigh, although she was far from relaxed. Her neck stood rigidly and her shoulders were squared. There was a silence for a while, but Ron felt as though the world was moving around them. (Was it his imagination, or was Hermione breathing rather heavily? Or maybe it was his breathing- his heart was pounding like he'd just run a marathon, after all.) Her hair crinkled beneath his fingers as he gently brushed through the knots at the ends and then worked his way up closer to her scalp. (Ron rarely had cause to use the word beautiful, so why did it keep on jumping into his head when their eyes met in the mirror?) And as the seconds ticked by, Ron found himself thinking, "I wish I could…."

Could WHAT?! Just do it, whatever you're thinking, do it…!

"Ron…" Hermione's voice was still shaky. Their eyes met in the mirror again. Why, she looked positively scared. (My fault, Ron reminded himself miserably, for being an insensitive brute…) "Why do we…"

"Yes?"

"Why do we…all the time, when we fight…why do we do it to each other?"

"What?"

"I mean…it makes me miserable." Ron couldn't think how much it must have cost her to say that. They'd never said it to each other, though they both knew it. The fighting made them miserable.

"It makes me miserable, too," Ron said, eager to match her humbleness. Their eyes hadn't left each other's gaze and god, Ron felt as though looking away would blind him.

"So why?"

Because no one gets to me as much as you do, because no one makes me feel as much as you do, because whenever you walk into a room so many feelings run through my head that I just pick the angriest one to be simple, because I think I'd die if you stopped noticing me…God, her gaze was burning! Ron's hands trembled, hovering around her neck. He was brushing the underneath of her hair, and she practically shivered everytime his fingers graced her hairline. "If I knew, I'd stop whatever I was doing wrong immediately, and I'd change until we'd never have to do it again."

"Oh, Ron…" and now her voice was infused with such tenderness Ron wondered if he'd be able to go another second without doing something…"Ron, it's not just your fault."

"It is."

"Don't be stupid- oh, god…"

"I told you I was stupid!"

"Ron!" Her voice cracked too- for one horrifying moment, Ron as sure she'd burst into tears. Their gaze had been broken, and she was looking down at the wooden dresser. Ron abandoned the hairbrush and took her by the shoulders. "God!" Her voice sounded frustrated and muffled. "Why do you always do this?"

"What?"

"Make me cry!"

Ron's heart fairly crumpled when she said that. A hideously shameful groan escaped him, which was enough to prompt Hermione to throw her head back and look at him again. Her eyes were filled with tears. Ron wanted to die, and he thought of that day by the lake, when Hermione had followed him and forgave him, and…

"I always do that?"

"What?"

"Make you cry?" He suddenly reached his hand around and wiped at a tear that had rolled down her cheek. Her breath tickled his hand. "I'm responsible for this?"

"Oh, Ron…yes, sometimes, you are."

Ron managed a shaky laugh. "And here's me thinking Percy deserved no friends." He knew he should have drawn back, taken his hands off her. But he couldn't, not now. He would no more have been able to take his hands off her delicate shoulders than he would have been able to look away from her face, though, as it happened, his heart was practically breaking to watch the tears snake their miserable path down her cheek. And he was responsible for it?! This was the girl…yes, he could think it, at least- the girl he cared about more than…any other girl- and he was the one making her cry! It was ridiculous. Laughable. Pathetic. He couldn't even make her happy as a friend. In fact, he hadn't even known how miserable he made her. If only…if only he could put his arms around her then. if only that would make it al better. And why not? Hermione had put her arm around him that day on the lake, and his broken heart had seemed like it was never broken in the first place.

Without even thinking or realizing it, his arms had slid around, in the silence that had followed what he'd last said. He leant down, resting on her shoulders, as his arms encircled her. Around her clavicle, the area just below her neck, hugging her upper arms to her sides. She had closed her eyes- her breath seemed to be barely perceptible. And suddenly Ron had leant down- not to bury his face in her neck, though God knew he wanted to. But he leant his cheek against the side of her head, and they seemed to fit, perfectly. His lips were less than a millimeter away from the top of her ear. The seconds ticked by.

"Things…are changing," Ron whispered finally. His mouth was tingling. "And I think…I think that…this whole thing with Percy made me realise something." He took a deep breath and prepared himself. "Things are getting more and more dangerous- especially for us- and if…if we were fighting…and if something happened while we were fighting…I wouldn't be able to stand it. Voldemort is-" he broke off, feeling dizzy. He'd said it! He said the name! And it wasn't even that bad. In fact, it made him feel braver. "Voldemort is…he's just like Dumbledore said, famous for spreading conflict, and I think….just like Dumbledore said…that now is the worst time for us to be arguing, Not just because we need to stick together, but because I'm so scared of losing you or Harry that something could happen while we weren't speaking and then it would all be over and the last thing we would have said to each other would be something nasty." The sentences tumbled out in a rush- Hermione had placed her hand on his arm and her eyes were dark with tears. "Something nasty which- in my case at least- isn't a true mark of…of how I feel." He exhaled. 'So that's why I think…we should stop fighting. I know that it's rich coming form me- I'm the one who starts everything of course." Hermione gave a tearful laugh. Ron smiled and wiped the tears from her face. "But I want you to know that no matter what I yell at you in the throes of anger, all I have for you, Hermione Granger, and all I ever will have, is…" All of a sudden, the words stuck in his throat. What was he thinking? What was he about to say…? "Is…" he stammered. Maybe he didn't need to say anything. He could lean down, turn her face towards his, and…

"Ron…?" Hermione whispered. And, just after Ron realised that he couldn't do it, the tent flapped open. Ron whirled away from Hermione within the second, his heart pounding, his hands sweaty. Suddenly it felt like a spell had been broken, reminiscent of the feeling that he had when he was coming out of the Imperius curse. He stared wildly at Hermione, who had leapt to her feet. Had he really been about to say what he thought he was going to say? Or do what he…he wanted to do?

It was Ginny at the flap of the tent, of course. "Oh, Ron! Here you are!" Her red-rimmed eyes indicated she'd been crying, but she was smiling anyway. The reason why followed her into the tent, with his hand on her back.

"Harry," Ron croaked, far too distracted to notice that he was he touching his precious little sister. "Ginny- is everything…?" She nodded and went to her brother for a hug.

"They stopped fighting an hour or so after you left. Percy says he still won't come, and he also said horrible stuff about you- oh Ronnie…" She was tearful again, into his shoulder. "Oh, you were so brave, I couldn't believe some of the things you were saying. But why is he doing this? Why won't he come to the wedding? He's so different…"

"I know," Ron said, running a brotherly hand down her hair. "Things change, Ginny, and they're going to keep on changing. But you know what? Some of it's not all bad." He chanced a glance at Hermione. Some changes aren't all bad. So why had he chickened out at the last moment?

"I know," Ginny said, wiping her tears away. They shared a rueful smile. Things were going to be very different in their house from now on. But it was nice to know that they had each other. "Come on, Bill wants you inside. He's got a really important announcement about the wedding."

Harry tapped Ron's arm as they passed, and gave him a questioning grin, that was clearly asking, We okay? Ron grinned back. Things were always okay with Harry, and he hoped his best friend knew that as he gave him a hearty slap on the back. It was Hermione with whom things were changing…She followed behind Ron as they made their way up to the house, and her silence as Harry and Ginny talked away in front of them practically killed Ron.

Later on, he would wonder if he had left the letter to her on her dressing table on purpose.