A/N: This is set sometime in the Dream Team's fifth year . couldn't pinpoint exactly when . but then this is just a semi-plotless little ficlet by a semi-clueless little author, so does it matter???

Disclaimer: Oh yes. I own it all. Mhm. Really. Or . I WOULD . if J. K. Rowling hadn't beaten me to it . but if I ever DO, for some reason, gain her legal ownership over the Harry Potter series and all its characters, I'll be sure to keep you posted. But hey, I DO own the poem . sorry, too big a word for it . the four rhyming lines at the end of this.

Read and enjoy and . review!

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Different

A fanfiction by Talhonjik

She just sits there, scribbling notes.

She always does this; while me and Harry sleep, or doodle, or do other things any normal student does while Professor Binns mumbles on, she always writes down what he's saying, checking things in her book every now and then, and then scribbling some more.

I s´pose it's a good thing that she does, really, I mean, how else would me and Harry pass History of Magic?

Hermione would probably say that we /could/ pass by ourselves, if only we listened in lessons and took notes like she does ... I dunno, maybe we could, if we could be bothered; but that's what makes Hermione different from me and Harry; she can be bothered, and we can't.

Well, actually, that's not the only thing that makes her different; she's been a bit ... different sometimes lately ...

Of course, she's changed since I first met her back in first year; I guess all three of us have, come to think of it . the stuff Harry's been through is enough to change a bloke for good, of course; and it's not like me and Hermione haven't been through a right lot of it, either . plus, everyone just . changes anyway when they get older, I suppose. But although Hermione´s changed, just like me and Harry have, that's not what I mean. I'm . I'm not sure how to describe it, exactly .

There; she pauses in her frantic scribbling, bites her lip in that very ... Hermione way, and pulls the strand of hair, that's been dangling in her face for a while, behind her ear, before she carries on writing. Now, like sometimes happens, it feels like she's ... different; only for a moment, but it's there. When she does feel different, it's like ... I dunno ... I just feel really glad and lucky that she's my friend. Sometimes I look at her and just want to ... well, stupid, really ... to hold her, and make sure she never goes away from me. And Harry.

How girlie does that sound? Luckily I never feel the urge to hug Harry like that.

The first time I noticed she was different was probably, I think around that ... that /bloody stupid ball thing/ in our fourth year. (A total waste of time, if you ask me.) When Hermione walked in with her /precious darling Vicky./ That was the first time she really seemed ... different. Well, I mean, she /was/ different that night, wasn't she? All dressed up and pretty ... not that /I/ noticed that, at all - well, not a lot - not really - but I mean, everyone else thought she was. But that's not what I mean. She did /look/ different, but what I really noticed was that one moment she was Hermione, my friend. And then the next, she was this ... girl, Hermione, my friend, and I really just felt like I had to ... I dunno ... well, /protect/ her. And I absolutely /hated/ that ... that stuck-up, snotty Bulgarian /brat/ for just waltzing in and ... and just taking her from me. Couldn´t he go chase some other girl? Couldn´t he see Hermione was /my/ friend? And Harry's too, of course?

And /Hermione/ ... honestly, to just - just jump into the arms of someone she hardly knew? Couldn´t she just have been sensible and gone with someone she was at least friends with? I mean, Harry /needed/ someone to go with, he was supposed to /open/ the bloody ball. Or ... I could have gone with her, I wouldn't have minded...

I glare at Hermione, scowling. Whatever she did, I feel going with /Krum/ was the single most /stupid/ thing she could have done. Stupid Krum. I hate him.

Hermione seems to have sensed my glaring, because she looks up from her note-taking, and glances at me. "/What/?" she mouths. I shrug, and turn to glare ahead instead of sideways at her. I can see, out of the corner of my eye, that she continues to stare at me, as if waiting for a response, for a few moments. /I/ continue to glare ahead. I'm not going to give her one.

Eventually, she shakes her head, and goes back to taking notes.

There can also be moments when I really don't like Hermione.

She still writes to him, I know. Huge long letters ... I wonder what they're saying to each other that takes so bloody many pages? I swear, if Krum´s saying anything ... undecent to her, I'll - I'll knock his teeth out. I'll bloody well fly over to sodding Bulgaria and knock his teeth out.

"You alright?" Harry whispers, staring at me. I realise I've been screwing up a bit of parchment and tearing it up, slowly.

"Fine," I hiss back, putting down what remains of the parchment.

I try to calm down and get my mind off Krum. Quidditch. Quidditch is good; think about Quidditch. I really feel I'm getting better at playing Keeper, or at least I hope so; I /definitely/ hope I'm better than I was that horrible, horrible first match ... I really don't want to think about it.

The only even /vaguely/ good bit about that day was what Hermione did before the match. Well, of course, what I mean is, well, it's not that I /liked/ it especially or anything like that, I mean why would I? It's just, well ... it was really weird, mostly; when she ... when she kissed me. There, I /can/ think it. When she ... did ... it was really weird; I dunno what she did, ´cos it didn't feel at all like when my Mum or my Aunts peck me on the cheek. It was like ... it burned. Nah, it didn't hurt or anything, it was just like ... well ... I could feel it, where she ... kissed me ... for a long time afterwards; sort of like she /had/ burned me.

I s´pose /Krum´s/ kissed her, I mean, he liked her enough.

I try to suppress the burning desire to kill something. Why do I /always/ end up thinking about Krum?

What nice weather we're having, I think, determined to get that scumbag out of my thoughts. I glance out at the window.

Oh ... I blink. Hermione, in her seat by the window, is still busy scribbling away. The sun, shining in the window, makes her hair look all sort of golden and glowing around the edges. I think it makes her look a bit like an angel. This is one of the moments when Hermione seems different, I realise, still watching her taking her notes.

Hermione, I realise, dazedly, has something that pretty dress robes and Sleekeazy´s hair potion can't add to, and being friends with Krum can't take away. What I like best about her is this, when she's just ... Hermione.

And then she looks up, and sees me watching her, and the ... different- ness about her ... is gone. "Now what?" she whispers, sounding a little annoyed.

"Hermione," I whisper back, "I'm ... I'm really glad that we're friends."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why? Because I'm taking the notes that you two will need to pass your exams?" she asks, sceptically, in a low voice.

"Well ... not /just/ because of that," I reply, "mostly because ... because you're you."

She frowns a little, but then a smile spreads across her face. "I'm glad too, Ron," she whispers, still smiling. And she really does look happy, smiling like that.

My stomach flutters slightly, looking at her like that. And I feel really, really lucky to be friends with Hermione.

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So . it's finished. So . it was short. Really short. So sue me.

No, seriously, what did you think of it? Was it too soppy? Was Ron out of character? Did I do something else wrong that my tiny little brain can't think of at the moment? If there was (or even if there wasn't, come to that) I only have one thing to say .

Reviewing is hip,

reviewing is wow,

reviewing is easy,

so go do it now!