Author's Notes: Wow, Ariana, you are so totally amazing – she made me these collages for Hermione and Diana with pictures from actresses that she thought would look somewhat like them. And she did pretty good, because they're very close to my mental image of those two – these collages rock my socks!

Anywho, if you're interested in taking a look and bowing to the genius that is Ari, they can be viewed at the same website mentioned in the Author's Notes of Chapter 7. For some reason fanfic.net won't accept this document if I have a website written in here. ???

Anyway…Note to all: I do not own these actresses or anything. Because that would just be strange. Now all we have to do is figure out a celebrity or something that would look like older-Ron and older-Harry. Hmm…suggestions?

Also, I have a question for all you computer freaks…every time I convert my chapters in Word to HTML, I lose all my formatting (*'s aren't centered and such), and there's these huge mother spaces in between each paragraph. Help?

And now, without further ado…a chapter that is finally R/H again.

***

A blast of freezing cold December air followed Ron Weasley into Hogwarts. He quickly shut the enormous, oak front door of the castle shut with a loud bang that echoed in the quiet halls. He'd arrived by Floo in frigid Hogsmeade minutes ago, and there was not much one could do in the way of Warming Charms without a wand. The magical carriage he'd taken to Hogwarts had not provided much warmth either, and it had chosen to start snowing quite heavily as the lone, shivering figure that was Professor Weasley had made his way across the grounds and up the stone steps of Hogwarts.

Now that he was finally within the warmth of the castle, however, the snowflakes that had frosted the tips of Ron's flaming red hair were melting rapidly and making both his hair and cloak rather wet. Shaking his head and splattering droplets of water all over the clean floors, Ron headed up the marble staircase, wondering what in the world he was going to tell Hermione, not to mention his students. Professors didn't usually spontaneously go missing for two days, and Lupin's old excuse of being sick wasn't going to fool anyone.

Ron came to the second floor, passing classrooms as he slowly tread towards the staff common room. The halls were quiet, and a few classroom doors that were open revealed students scribbling frantically with their quills, or teachers lecturing and pacing. Other classrooms revealed both teacher and students looking expectant and bored, waiting for the bell to ring and signal the end of the school day. Ron suddenly remembered that it was Tuesday, and that Hermione had the last period of the day off on Tuesdays. His stomach twisted into knots, and he suddenly had a very bad mental vision of her screaming at him in front of the open classrooms.

"Professor!"

Ron snapped out of it, only to see two very familiar fifth-years running towards him, eyes shining. Identical, mischievous grins were beginning to form on both their faces, and Ron decided that he rather hated Roger Ramone and Paul White.

"Is it true, then?" Roger asked excitedly, skidding to a halt in front of him.

"Someone said you'd been called back to the Aurors!"

"And someone else said that You-Know-Who was back – "

" – again – "

" – but Tommy Greenwald was saying that there was this man-eating, giant scorpion that somehow got loose at Gringotts – "

" – again – "

" – and you had to go kick it's – "

"Will the both of you shut up?" Ron interrupted irritably. Both boys closed their mouths and exchanged looks, grinning. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Yes," said Roger.

"No," said Paul.

"Five points from Gryffindor, and get back to class," Ron said, folding his arms. "Now."

"Aw, you're no fun," Roger complained.

Paul shrugged. "He's probably just tired and cranky from fighting that giant scorpion."

"Now," Ron said wryly.

"But where were you, Weas – I mean, Professor?" Paul asked again, not moving.

"I was…" Ron cast around for an excuse, thinking hard, "…sick," he finished, feeling stupid.

Roger and Paul arched their eyebrows and exchanged knowing looks. "Ah," said Roger, trying to look serious.

"Of course," added Paul, his eyes twinkling. "Well, we'll see you then, Professor Weasley…off to class we go, and tra la la, and all that jazz."

The two boys turned and walked away in the opposite direction of most of the classrooms, grinning from ear to ear. Ron watched them disappear around a corner then turned around again. He froze.

There was Hermione, standing in the middle of the corridor. Ron's heart sunk at the look on her face. She looked pale and her eyes were bloodshot; and though Ron couldn't stand the fact that it was due to him, he also couldn't help hoping that it was, and that her ashen face wasn't a sign of her getting sick from the scrolls. Feeling murderous towards Dameon Stark again, Ron could only stare at Hermione's dishevelled hair, which obviously hadn't been brushed or cared for in two days.

"I – " he began. But he was cut off, as the next second Hermione had somehow crossed the hall, thrown her arms around his neck, and had started squeezing the life out of him. Shocked, Ron hugged her back.

"Well," Ron breathed in relief, holding her tightly. "This wasn't exactly the greeting I was expecting…but hey, this works better."

Hermione abruptly pulled away, her eyes blazing, and slapped him across the face with strength Ron didn't know she had.

"Me and my big mouth," Ron muttered as he staggered away, rubbing his cheek vigorously. He'd have a nice bruise to show for that. Apparently years of lugging around thirty pound textbooks had given Hermione quite a lot of muscle.

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione breathed, her voice shaky. Ron had only seen her this angry on a few select occasions, and he shuddered as he realized his mental picture of the row in the halls was coming true. He glanced around and was thankful to see that most classroom doors in this hallway were closed.

"Hermione, come on, this isn't the time or – "

"How do you think I felt," Hermione continued, ignoring him. Her voice was slowly getting louder, "when I woke up Sunday morning to find you missing?"

"Now, Hermione, see here – "

"And how do you think I felt when you stayed missing, for two – bloody – days," Hermione continued, her voice sounding shrill now. Ron winced; he'd never heard Hermione use the word bloody before. He was in trouble.

"Not an owl, not a letter, not a postcard, nothing! You could've been in danger, or hurt, or kidnapped for all I knew, and you obviously weren't, because here you are all fine and dandy! You had me worried sick, Ronald Weasley, worried sick!" Hermione was almost screaming now. "I owled your mother, I owled your brothers and sister, I owled everyone to find out where in Merlin's name you could have possibly gone for two days without telling me!" Hermione was trembling as she continued ranting. Ron groaned inwardly at the thought of his mother reading an owl from Hermione asking where he'd disappeared to. He was sure he'd be getting a Howler from Molly Weasley shortly.

"Hermione, if you'd just let me explain – " Ron tried.

"But no, that's not the worst of it!" Hermione exploded. "Did you think I was stupid, Ron? That I wouldn't figure it out?!" she screamed. "I know the signs of a Memory Charm, Ron! Feelings of being disoriented and puzzled, a sense of déjà vu…" The tears had started now, and Ron felt his heart twisting with guilt.

"I couldn't believe that you would Obliviate me," Hermione said through the tears, searching his eyes. Ron knew he looked guilty, and from the look on Hermione's face, she could see it too. "But you did, didn't you?" she whispered in defeat. "Oh Ron, how could you?"

Ron could only stare as she turned and sped down the hall away from him. He stayed rooted to the spot, frozen, as the bell rang and the corridor filled with talking, laughing students. They swarmed around the teacher standing in their midst, running outside or to the Great Hall for dinner; Ron just stayed frozen to the spot, not wanting to believe that he had, quite accidentally, inflicted so much pain on Hermione. And though having to disappear for awhile was not his fault, he knew the Memory Charm was. He should have never gone to her room. He had shattered the trust between himself and the person he cared most about. The hallways finally emptied, and Ron was once again left in silence.

***

"Do you want a Butterbeer?" Arden Roberts tried helpfully. "Or…an ale? Mead? Something?"

The wooden table felt cool and smooth under Ron's cheek. He dully looked sideways at Professor Roberts. "No," he answered, turning his head the other way.

"Oh, Arden, leave him alone," Kathleen Willows scolded from her spot on the armchair in front of the fire. The staff common room was relatively empty, but most of those that were there were taking care not to disturb Ron, who had only just now stopped banging his head on the wooden table due to Professor Willows' pleas.

Arden looked doubtfully at Ron, then to Kathleen again. "But whenever my dad comes home and is angry or depressed or ranting about stupid tourists and the like, my mum always slips him an ale and he's right as rain again," Arden explained wisely.

"Sod off, Roberts," Ron growled. He felt badly; the young Muggle Studies professor was only trying to be nice. Ron usually liked Arden Roberts very much – he was a very enthusiastic, eager-to-please sort of guy. But right now Ron felt like stuffing his fist in the kid's annoyingly helpful face. He'd rather be alone in his misery and guilt, and had been too lazy and tired to drag himself up to his bedroom. He considered it now, and lifted his head, only to let it drop back onto the table.

There had only been a few times in Hermione and Ron's long friendship that they had genuinely, honestly, been furious with each other. Sure, there were the petty rows and stupid fights that they frequently had, but most of those were resolved within five minutes or less. The first real fight they had ever had was over Scabbers, which was incredibly stupid, as Ron now wished he had strangled that damn rat when he had had the chance. The second time was the Yule Ball incident. The third, and perhaps most horrible fight, had been at the end of their sixth year, just before the summer. And it had been about Harry. Ron closed his eyes as vivid memories rushed back.

Word of Voldemort's latest attack had only just reached Hogwarts, and the upcoming summer was looking dark and bleak. Ron had fervently believed that Harry should not be left to stay with his idiot relatives for another summer, while Hermione thought that staying with the Dursley's was the best thing for him. Both of them had voiced their opinions on the matter, while Harry had remained uncharacteristically quiet about it all. Then it had finally all come to a climax that last night at Hogwarts.

All their things had been packed, and the trio had been sitting in the Gryffindor common room in silence. The common room had been abnormally empty; many students had been pulled out of school as soon as Voldemort's attacks had begun. Few students remained to go home the next day.

And then Ron, in an idiotic turn of events, had had to open his big mouth.

"For the last time, Ron!" Hermione had said shrilly, her knuckles turning white as she clutched her book tightly. "Harry has to go to the Dursley's, don't you understand?"

"No," Ron had snapped. "I don't understand why Harry has to spend the entire summer with those – " he had called the Dursley's something he probably shouldn't have. "He'd be so much better off at my house, with my mum and dad and Charlie, Bill, and Percy there to watch him. What the hell are the Muggles going to do if You-Know-Who comes knocking on their door - throw a saucepan at him?!"

"We've been through this!" Hermione had exclaimed in exasperation. Harry had simply stared out the window, pretending to be deaf as he quietly polished his Firebolt. "Professor Dumbledore made sure that no harm can come to Harry while he's with them. Now I know they're mean, and I know they're horrible to Harry, but at least he's safe with them!"

"Safe with them?!" Ron had exploded. "Do you know what they did to him, Hermione?! They had bars on his bedroom window the summer after first year! They went on vacation and 'forgot' him the summer after fourth year! They threatened to break his leg last summer if he didn't co-operate when they had company over! How is that safe?!"

"You're just being selfish!" Hermione had exclaimed.

Ron shivered; it had quickly turned into a shouting match, and Harry had begun unconsciously humming to himself to block out the noise. His eerie humming had actually been downright creepy.

"I know you want Harry to spend the summer with you Ron, but honestly, can't you see it's dangerous? You would sacrifice Harry's well-being just so that you can have a friend to hang around with all summer?!"

"I care about Harry's goddamn well-being just as much as you do!"

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it!"

"Oh, sorry. I guess I'm just not as fond of Harry as you are!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean!"

"No, I don't!"

"Honestly, do I have to spell it out for you?! It's rather obvious, Hermione!"

"What is?!"

"You obviously care about Harry a lot, don't you? You wouldn't have given back a necklace from him, would you?"

"What in the world are you – "

"Guys," Harry had suddenly begged. "Come on, stop it…we're not going to see each other all summer, do you really have to get in a fight right now?"

"Exactly! We're not going to see each other all summer because you're staying with those idiotic relatives of yours!" Ron had said triumphantly. Hermione had opened her mouth to yell at him some more, but Harry had shut him up more effectively with his depressed tone.

"Ron, I have to go back," Harry had said dejectedly. "As nice as it would have been to spend the summer at the Burrow…Dumbledore said…"

"But…but…" Ron had faltered. His temper had begun to cool when he had heard Harry's crushed voice. "If he can make a spell to keep you safe at the Dursley's, why can't he cast a spell to make you safe at my house?" Ron had muttered, staring at the floor. "Why can't he make a spell to make you safe anywhere?"

Ron turned his head on the table so that he faced the fire. As much as he hadn't wanted to admit it, he'd cared a lot about his best friend, and still did. It just didn't seem like the kind of thing one guy said to another guy back then. He'd hated the fact that he wouldn't have any contact with his best mate all summer, and even more so that Harry had to spend it with the Dursley's. He knew first-hand how they treated Harry. Looking back, Hermione had been right – at least Harry was safe with them – but to a young, hot-tempered Ron, it hadn't seemed that way.

"I told you," Hermione had said softly, also having cooled down a bit. "It's…it's just not possible. The best protection Harry could have had was his mother's sacrifice…and now it's gone. The best he can do is stay at Hogwarts with Dumbledore during the school year, and with his relatives during the summer."

"There's got to be a way!" Ron had exclaimed, exasperated. His temper had begun to flare up again; for Ron, anger always went hand in hand with frustration. "Hermione, you're supposed to be smart. Can't you figure out something?"

"Don't you think I've tried, Ron?" Hermione had asked in a strained voice.

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough," Ron had snapped bitterly.

Hermione had looked offended and angry. "I've looked everywhere…I've read every book in the library! It just can't – be – done!" she'd said through clenched teeth.

"Just because you can't do it doesn't mean it can't be done!" Ron had blurted out angrily, leaping out of his seat. "You're a Muggle-born, what would you know anyways?!"

Ron winced as he remembered those words. He had immediately regretted saying them, of course. Those few words had inflicted more harm than any amount of shouting and yelling ever could have. Hermione had gone rigid. Harry had dropped his broom. The few other Gryffindors in the common room - most of whom had been ignoring the row, as they did many other Ron/Hermione conflicts - had suddenly frozen, staring. Ron could only stand there, not daring to believe what he'd just blurted out.

"So," Hermione had said softly. Her voice was trembling, and her hands were shaking with anger. "Is that the way it is, then? All of that about being a brilliant witch…how you always defended me in front of Malfoy…it was all just lies, wasn't it?" She had given a harsh laugh that was quite unlike Hermione and had stood up, still shaking. "It's finally revealed what Ron Weasley really thinks."

"Hermione, he didn't mean it," Harry had said quickly, glancing at a frozen Ron. "He was angry; you were both angry, you two always say things you don't really mean…"

There had been tears in Hermione's eyes which she had bravely fought. She wouldn't have shed them in front of Ron, when her pride had already been so badly injured. "Oh no, Harry…I think Ron has been meaning to say this for a very long time."

Ron sighed, clenching his fists under the wooden table at the mere memory of it. It hadn't been true. He'd blurted it out without thinking. His anger and frustration and even his jealousy of Hermione's brilliance had all mingled into that one, horrible, untrue statement. But Ron hadn't been able to defend himself, or apologize, or even take it back.

"I'm just a Mudblood to you too, aren't I?" Hermione had whispered, breaking Ron's heart with the look she had given him.

Ron closed his eyes. And without another word, she had turned and stiffly walked up the stairs without looking back. Harry had looked imploringly at Ron, but it had seemed apparent that his red-headed friend was unresponsive at the moment, so Harry had sighed and called after the bushy-haired girl.

"Hermione, wait!" Harry had called, seeking to make things right. He'd always played the peacekeeper. "Hang on…I…I need to talk to you about the Charms exam!" he'd said, hurrying after her.

Ron shook his head. Harry had obviously thought that mentioning an exam would snap Hermione out of it, that somehow she would suddenly forget Ron's comment and start babbling about how she thought she didn't get question thirty-one. But then again, Harry was a bit of an idiot sometimes.

"Oh, I wouldn't know anything about Charms, Harry," Hermione had said coldly, stopping at the foot of the stairs. The tears were threatening to pour down her face at any moment, and she had clenched her trembling hands into fists by her side. "I'm just a Muggle-born, after all."

"It's still snowing," Oliver Wood, the flying teacher, commented worriedly from the window. Ron snapped out of the daydream, blinking. Hermione had not spoken to him the next day, and had ignored every single one of his letters over the summer. It had been hell, not being able to be with or talk to either of his best friends for an entire summer. Hermione had only started speaking to him again when they'd returned to school, and he'd had to practically get on his knees and beg her to forgive him. Still, looking back, Ron realized that the lack of contact with Hermione for that one summer was nothing compared to the seven years of silence that had followed graduation.

Ron wished passionately that this fight wouldn't be one of the ones to add to that terrible list. Then again, Hermione had been almost as furious in the halls this afternoon as she had been that last night of sixth year. But it wasn't because he had insulted or offended her like he had then, it was because she cared about him, Ron reminded himself. He was sure Hermione wouldn't be angry with him if she'd only let him explain where he had been…

"How is anyone going to get any Quidditch in?" Oliver muttered, banging on the window. He walked over and poked Rowan Richardson, who was reading a book in the corner. She jumped a bit and stared up at Wood. Though she was only an apprentice, she had been given the staff common room's password. And, unlike Professor Trelawney, the future Divination Professor didn't mind coming out of the tower, although she was still a bit shy about being allowed in the teachers' private common room. She usually kept quiet, and almost everyone was kind to her, even if she still didn't quite fit in.

"Is it going to stop snowing soon?" Wood demanded impatiently.

"I…I don't know," Rowan answered, looking surprised at being asked a question like that.

"Well, you're the Divination expert, aren't you?" Wood said irritably, folding his arms. "Can't you even tell if it's going to stop snowing?"

Rowan looked flustered, and her eyes dropped to the floor.

"Aw, leave her alone Oliver," Professor Roberts spoke up. He'd given up on Ron and was flipping through the Muggle Studies textbook, compiling a note on the human body (according to Muggles) for his next class. "She's not the weather girl."

Rowan blushed furiously at Arden's defence, and Oliver looked confused. "Weather what?"

"Weather girl. On Muggle television," Arden, a Muggle-born, explained enthusiastically. "It's this girl that struts around in a skimpy outfit and shows you what the weather's going to be like for the next few days. She does amazing things like moves little pictures of the sun and clouds around on this big board. It requires quite a lot of talent," he grinned.

Oliver's eyes were shining, and he looked as if he had just been touched by a stroke of ingenious. "Really?" he said slowly. "On Muggle television, you say?"

"Don't bother," Professor Flitwick piped up. "There's a spell you can do that predicts tomorrow's weather." Oliver quickly crossed over to the tiny Charms teacher, and Rowan, forgotten, went back to her book, her cheeks still pink.

Slowly, everyone started to leave the common room to go to bed, until only Arden and Rowan were left. Arden had just started marking papers while Rowan snuck glances at him over the top of her book, when the common room door opened. Ron turned his head sideways, and his heart got lodged in his throat. It was Hermione.

Rowan looked from the Arithmancy Professor to the Defense Against the Dark Arts one, then quietly got out of her chair and started heading upstairs. Professor Roberts seemed to take the hint and followed.

Ron lifted his head to stare at Hermione; rather than furious, she looked almost sheepish. Her face was still tear-streaked, but she looked a lot less pale than she had a few hours ago. In fact, her cheeks looked almost flushed. Wordlessly, she walked over to the table Ron was at and sat opposite to him. She chewed her lip, and Ron stared at the table. Neither of them said anything.

"I've had a talk with Dumbledore," Hermione suddenly said softly. She was trying to avoid Ron's eyes. "He told me…where you had to go."

Ron said nothing, though he felt relief wash over him. Trust Dumbledore to smooth things over for him. He reminded himself to buy the Headmaster something really good for Christmas.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked, staring at her hands. "That…you'd agreed to go if they called you?"

"Because…I didn't think you'd be too pleased with me," Ron muttered, feeling his ears go red. "I mean, you weren't exactly thrilled with the whole profession."

Hermione looked flustered. "Well, yes…I mean, no, but…" she started chewing her lip again. "I understand that you weren't allowed to tell anyone that you were leaving," she whispered. "And…and I'm sorry for screaming at you before, but…" She seemed to be trying very hard not to cry again. "Why did you have to Obliviate me?" she whispered.

"It was my fault," Ron blurted out, shaking his head. "I…I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. I didn't know how long I would be gone, and…I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," he muttered, blushing. "I was stupid and I blurted out some things I shouldn't have. I swear Hermione, I just wanted you to be safe. You couldn't have known. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, and Ron thought that she even looked a bit flattered that he hadn't been able to restrain himself from saying goodbye to her. Her cheeks went a bit pinker, anyway. She started absently toying with the chain on her neck; a necklace Ron had really given to her twice – for Christmas in sixth year, and for Christmas last year. She'd finally kept it after last year, and now, to Ron's delight, wore it all the time.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered again, shaking her head. She slowly stood, and Ron did the same, immediately wrapping his arms around her as soon as she'd stepped away from her chair. He cradled her close, breathing in her scent. He'd come to love the familiar way Hermione always smelled; of books and the magical fires that were always blazing in the castle; today there was faint scent of evergreen in her hair from the trees the gamekeeper had put out to decorate the castle for Christmas.

To Ron's surprise, Hermione quite suddenly burst into tears, squeezing his neck tightly. Trying not to choke, Ron rubbed her back, feeling quite confused.

"I – I'm sorry!" Hermione repeated between sobs. "Oh, Ron I – I was never r-really angry with you, I just – " Her sobs increased in volume, and Ron worried that the other teachers would hear.

"You disappeared, and I thought you had gone for good again!" Hermione wailed. "And…and I know it's silly, but I had this horrible feeling that you were going to be gone for another seven years, and I…oh, I was such an idiot when you and Harry left before!"

"Shh," Ron said soothingly. "Shh, Hermione, it's alright…"

Hermione broke away from him, her face shining with tears. "No, it's not alright!" she declared passionately, stomping her foot. Though Hermione was a confident, intelligent, adult woman, she was still so much like a child when she was angry and upset. "I kept trying to tell myself that I didn't care when you were gone back then, but I did…oh, I couldn't stand being without you and Harry for the first few months after graduation…but then I kept distancing myself more and more from all that and convincing myself you two were nothing but trouble, and…" Hermione trailed off, looking embarrassed. "Well, when you disappeared Saturday night, I thought…I thought some higher power was getting back at me for being so petty and mean before," she confessed. "Because nothing ever works out for us, Ron! We've been so happy and it's been so wonderful these past few months, but you know it never works out!"

"Don't talk like that," Ron commanded. "I won't have you just waiting for something horrible to happen to us. Nothing bad is going to happen, do you hear me?"

"Then why did you have to leave?" Hermione asked hopelessly.

Ron opened his mouth, and then closed it again, not knowing what to say. Was he supposed to lie, to say everything was just fine? He snapped back to reality, leaning forward and kissing Hermione's forehead.

"Harry just needed some extra help," he murmured. "That's all." Ron felt horrible for lying; but then again, it wasn't really a lie. It was just…keeping a secret.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked timidly. "That's all? Why can't you tell me what it was all about, then?"

Ron shook his head. "You don't understand how much I want to, Hermione. It's just – "

Hermione sighed heavily. "I understand," she muttered, taking out a handkerchief from within her robes and wiping her eyes. She suddenly laughed. "Well, I look quite foolish now, don't I? Honestly, getting all worked up like that and bawling like a baby…"

"Hey, you said it, not me," Ron joked.

"Ron!"

"Joking, joking," Ron said quickly, holding up his hands in defence. He laughed and hugged Hermione again, kissing the top of her dishevelled brown hair. "I love you," he murmured into her hair.

"I love you too," Hermione answered, and tilted her head up to kiss him on the lips. Ron instantly felt calm and warmth wash over him as her lips moved against his. Kissing Hermione must just have had that effect on people. Hermione quickly broke off the kiss, blushing furiously.

"Whatever happened to the hands-off rule?" she questioned sternly, hands on her hips.

"Oh shut up, Hermione." Taking her by surprise, Ron suddenly spun her around and dipped her, kissing her again. Hermione shrieked against his mouth, but eventually gave in. She always did.

Still, something dark nagged at the back of Ron's mind. He abruptly thought of five little pieces of parchment, and no amount of kissing could possibly make him feel warm again.

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Aww…

So believe it or not, I'm not going to beg you to review now! Nope! I mean, if you want to be an incredibly nice and unselfish person and lend me criticism on this chapter, which I worked very hard on, and would be incredibly grateful for a review of, then that's totally up to you. Totally – up – to – you. ^_^