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A/N: Thanks so much for all the feedback on the last chapter! I loved reading everyone's comments on drunk Hermione (

Disclaimer: They all belong to J.K. Rowling, and sadly enough, I am not a rich British author… More like a poor American college student…

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The week at the coast went by more quickly than anyone could have guessed, and before they knew it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in his room back at the Burrow working on their homework (at Hermione's insistence, of course). Harry kept glancing up inconspicuously and catching Ron staring at Hermione when he was sure she wasn't looking. Harry rolled his eyes and thought about how awkward things had become between the two of them. Luckily for her, Hermione had woken up the day after her little escapade at the nightclub without too much sickness and without any recollection of the previous night's events. She knew, of course, that she had been drunk, but she said didn't remember all the way too close for comfort situations she'd placed Ron in. Harry wished in a way that she did, though; at least then they wouldn't be skirting around each other so formally. The way they were acting toward each other was very reminiscent of the way they had behaved the day after the Yule Ball last year. Cordial but way too formal.

Harry was sure he preferred them arguing.

"I give up!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, throwing his quill down on the bed in front of him. He was lying on his stomach on his bed, Harry was sitting on the other bed, leaning over his work while sitting cross-legged, ad Hermione was sitting between the beds, leaning against the small night table that separated them with her book open in her lap.

Harry and Hermione both looked up at him curiously. "What's the matter?" Hermione asked, scooting herself onto her knees and straining to see his work.

"This bloody book makes no sense!" Ron seemed more than exasperated with the Potions essay they were supposed to be working on.

"Don't swear," Hermione said before scooting closer, so she could lean over his book and see what had him so confused. "What don't you understand?"

"The whole bloody lot!" He spat the word 'bloody' at her viciously, as though daring her to scold him.

She looked at him sharply, but kept her mouth closed about the swearing. "If you had paid attention at all during class, you might not be so confused," she said haughtily.

Harry almost smiled right out at the sudden turnabout in his best friends' relationship. It was looking as though things were slowly getting back to normal.

"Excuse me," Ron said defensively, "for not be such a bloody know-it-all like you." It seemed to be his goal to use the word 'bloody' in every single sentence, now, Harry was sure just to annoy Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Funny how you can call me names when you're the one who can't even finish an assignment."

Ron just narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "How observant of you," he said sarcastically. "I think I made that quite clear from the very first bloody sentence!"

"Well, if you're expecting my help, you can think again!" she said heatedly. "I don't help annoying imbeciles!"

Ron laughed sarcastically. "I don't think I asked for your bloody help, now did I?"

Hermione's face turned bright red, and she raised her voice to say, "Would you just shut your bloody mouth?!" Rolling her eyes, she added, "Is that what you've been waiting for?" she asked hotly.

Harry caught himself before he laughed, but Ron was not quite so good. He let out a huge laugh and said in between breaths, "It was actually quite amusing."

This caused Hermione to draw in a sharp breath and roll her eyes. "You are insufferable!"

Ron smirked at her, "So you've said before."

"Ugh!" Hermione swiftly moved back to her own work, shooting death glares every few seconds at Ron who was still smirking at her. Finally, she looked up and said, "I can't wait to see the look on Snape's face when you have nothing to turn in."

Harry and Ron both knew that showing up to Snape's class unprepared was about as stupid as tickling a blast-ended skrewt. Harry didn't say anything, though, but Ron couldn't bare to allow Hermione the satisfaction of having the last word.

"I'll just steal yours when you aren't looking and copy it." He said this very nonchalantly, and Harry immediately knew that Hermione was about to explode.

"If you EVER copy my work without my permission, I'll go straight to Professor McGonagall and tell her you've been cheating! And don't think I won't!" Her brown eyes were flashing dangerously, but Ron just shrugged his shoulders.

"I know you will. You've sold Harry out to her before; I'm quite sure you'd do it to me!"

Harry was sure that Hermione was about to protest this, as they all knew he was referring to the Firebolt incident in third year, but Ron seemed to think of something else before she could even open her mouth.

"Speaking of selling people out, Hermione… Where's your Prefect badge? Haven't you gotten it yet?" He said all of this quite scathingly as though being named Prefect was the biggest offense in the world. "God knows they'll be sending it soon, if they haven't already. Then you can turn us in all the time and have a perfectly good excuse! Hell! You can even take points off of Gryffindor every time I swear!"

Hermione turned very pink at this, and Harry noted with surprise that he hadn't even considered the position of Prefect being given to any of them, though Hermione was a very obvious choice. She looked down quickly and then back up at Ron, a look of distaste on her face. "If you must know, Ron, they're not allowing me to be a Prefect."

"What?!" Ron's mouth actually fell open. "You have got to be shitting me!" He didn't pause long enough to allow Hermione's sound of shock. "They're not letting you, the biggest perfectionist Hogwarts has seen since Percy, to be a Prefect?!"

Harry was quite surprised, as well. "What are you talking about, Hermione?"

Hermione, who was glaring at Ron, obviously over the Percy comment, turned her attention back to the ground and answered him. "Professor McGonagall wrote me a letter at the start of the holiday and told me that she and Professor Dumbledore had decided it would be best if I didn't hold the position." She spoke rather quietly, and Harry couldn't quite tell which emotion her voice was laced with.

"But why?!" Ron asked loudly. "Have they fallen off their rockers?! You are the epitome of Prefect material!"

Hermione looked up to shoot the redhead a look of disgust. "They don't want me to be one because they think it'll distract me from keeping myself out of danger." She finished her explanation more loudly. "And they said that the three of us have to be more alert than anyone about the things going around us, and they didn't think I should have to deal with the distractions."

Harry suddenly felt very bad. If it wasn't for him, Hermione would be a Prefect- something she'd been working toward for four whole years. Now, because of him, she was being passed over. "Hermione," he said uncertainly, "look, I'm really sorry…"

Hermione just shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

Ron, who was looking a tiny bit sorry for teasing her, tried to smooth things over. "So, if you didn't get it, then who's the Gryffindor Prefect?"

"Dean," Hermione sighed.

"Dean Thomas?" Ron asked, as though there was another fifth year Gryffindor named Dean. "You mean, Harry and I weren't even second or third on the list?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry laughed as Ron said, "Hermione was first choice… Dean was second… I think they're discriminating against us because we're not Muggle-born, Harry."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione said, but Harry saw the slight trace of a smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, well," Ron sighed dramatically. "I guess I can live with it being Dean… At least they didn't give it to Parvati or Lavender." He shuddered for effect. "Can you imagine?" Putting on a high-pitched impression of the gigglers, Ron held his head up in the air and said, "Ten points from Hufflepuff because Hannah Abbot's hairstyle is just all wrong for her!"

Harry and Hermione both burst out laughing at his scarily accurate impression of Hermione's roommates. It was quite a scary thought to think of them being Prefects. But the thought of Harry and Ron's other roommates was just about almost as frightening. Seamus Finnigan was way too caught up in anything female to pay attention to any of the duties that a Prefect was expected to oversee, and Neville Longbottom… He could barely make it through the day with absolutely no responsibilities at all except for getting himself to class. If he was expected to do anything extra, it might very well be the end of him. Yes, Dean was definitely the only one of the remaining five fifth year Gryffindors who could be trusted.

After the laughter had subsided, Hermione smiled weakly at Ron and said, "Do you want me to help you with your essay?"

Ron scowled a bit, as though he didn't want to let her have the joy of knowing he needed her assistance, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he wouldn't be able to get anything done without it, so he finally sighed and nodded. "Please," he muttered extremely quietly.

Harry watched as Ron sat up to make room for Hermione beside him. She climbed onto the bed and reached for his work, so she could study it and offer her help. He realized that Ron was paying no more attention to the book than he was to Harry; Ron's gaze was fixed on Hermione's profile as she leaned over the book and pointed out all of the things he needed to read to write his essay. His gaze was so transfixed that he gave a small cry of surprise when Hermione suddenly looked up and said, "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Ron's face took on a rather panicked expression. "Uh… I'm just… confused; that's all."

Hermione sighed and shook her head disapprovingly. "You really should pay attention when the professors explain, Ron. You do know we have the O.W.L.s this year, don't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He started to point out the obvious, when Ron beat him to it.

"Jesus, Hermione," he said, exasperated. "It's August! Please, don't start badgering us about those stupid exams until at least Christmas!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, quite annoyed. "Someone needs to badger you. You certainly won't study on your own."

Harry sighed. "We have months still."

"I'm telling you, you're both going to be extremely sorry when you go to take the exams, and you aren't prepared." She said all of this as though they were her children instead of her best friends.

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"Checkmate!" Ron smiled proudly over the chessboard at Harry. "You do realize you're never going to beat me, right?"

Harry sighed knowingly. He knew this all to well. "Yeah… Oh, well. I can dream, right?"

"Hey!" Fred came tripping out of the house with George close behind him. Harry and Ron looked up curiously as they walked over and joined them at the table. Both twins looked down to observe the board and shook their heads disappointingly. "Beat the shit out of you again, did he, Harry?"

Harry nodded and shrugged. "So, what else is new?"

"Well," George said placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "my twin and I were just about to play some Quidditch, but we could really use a seeker," he grinned at Harry, "and a keeper," he grinned at Ron. "So, what do you say?"

"Chasers?" Ron asked absently.

At this, George smiled evilly. "Well… We figure we can rope Ginny into it, but… We were hoping that maybe you guys might talk Hermione into it…"

Ron and Harry both laughed loudly. Ron shook his head. "Are you crazy? She won't play Quidditch! She'll barely even get on a broom at all!"

Fred placed both of his hands on Ron's shoulders and looked at him mischievously. "But have you asked her, Ron? I'm tempted to think she might make an exception to her no brooms rule if you asked her…"

The tips of Ron's ears turned a bit brighter, and he shrugged his older brother away. "She won't. Trust me."

"Harry?" Fred looked across the board hopefully.

Harry just shook his head. "She won't play," he said certainly.

Both twins looked put-out by this, but George still pressed on. "I can't believe that neither of you have the power of persuasion. You should both be ashamed to call yourself Weasley men," he nodded in Harry's direction, "Or almost-Weasley men. Whatever."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Look, Hermione hates flying. She won't play."

"But how do you know if you haven't asked?" Fred said, grinning. "You might be surprised, Ron; Miss Granger just might give into you…"

"The reason I know," Ron said, obviously ignoring his brothers' latter comment, "is because I know HER. Flying scares her."

"Why don't you offer to give her a ride on your broomstick?" George could barely get the horrible pun out before both he and his twin were nearly guffawing with hysterics.

Harry could have found this joke quite hilarious if it had been directed at anyone else except for Ron and about anyone else except for Hermione. But as it was, indeed, in reference to his two best friends, Harry felt himself turning red, though he really didn't know why. He chanced a glimpse at Ron and saw that no matter how hot his own face was feeling, it must have been like ice compared to Ron's, as his friend's was now the deepest of crimsons.

Harry was surprised to see, though, that Ron didn't throw a punch at either of his older brothers. Instead he stood up and rolled his eyes at them. "Oh, how witty," he said snidely, in the same manner Hermione might have. "And you know what? You'll just have to do without a keeper." With that, he turned and walked back up the grass hill back to the house.

Harry and the twins watched his retreating back for a moment before the twins burst into laughter yet again. Fred turned to Harry, grinning, and said, "How the hell are you dealing with the two of them?"

Harry, not wishing to discuss the subject, shrugged his shoulders quickly and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The twins eyed him suspiciously for a second before glancing at each other and saying, "Right…" in disbelieving, unison voices.

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Ron stomped up the stairs to his room angrily. He heard his mum shout at him to walk normally from below, but he pretended not to have heard her. When he passed Ginny's room, he noticed the door open just a bit, and he peeked in the crack. Ginny was lying on her bed fast asleep, a quill still clasped in her hand as her head lay on the edge of a piece of parchment. Ron, against his own will, opened the door a bit further to view the rest of the room. But, to his surprise, Hermione's bed was empty, and there was no sign of her anywhere. He wondered where she was, but he didn't stick around to ponder this. Instead, he closed the door softly and continued up the stairs to the top floor of the house where his bedroom stood.

As soon as he'd thrown open the door to his room, he was met with a small shriek. He jumped at the noise and spun his head in the direction of the voice. Hermione was sitting on his bed reading, and she looked positively startled to death by the sudden interruption. Her eyes widened and then quickly went back to normal.

"Oh, sorry," she said quickly, her cheeks a soft shade of pink. "Ginny was asleep, and I didn't want to disturb her, so I came up here." She smiled slightly and said, "But I can go outside."

Ron, still rather shocked to have found her in his room, shook his head uneasily. "No, it's okay." He was suddenly very aware of the strange awkwardness that was once again taking over their situation.

She obviously noticed it as well because she was silent for a moment before asking a random question. "Where's Harry?"

Ron scowled slightly at the remembrance of what had just transpired. "Playing Quidditch with Fred and George."

"Oh?" Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "Why aren't you playing?"

He shrugged in his most careless manner and said, "I'm not in the mood for Quidditch."

Hermione laughed. "Do you have a fever, Ron? Maybe I should get your mum…"

He rolled his eyes at her before crossing the room to settle onto Harry's bed. "Oh, shut up."

She beamed at him, and he found himself noticing her perfect teeth yet again. Absently, he said, "Your teeth are nice." As soon as he'd said it, he realized how utterly stupid it sounded, much to his horrification.

Hermione's beam turned to a look of puzzlement before she broke out into another grin and said, "Thanks…"

Ron wanted to kick himself for saying something so stupid, so he said, "Well, you know, I'm still not used to them."

She laughed. "Well, get used to them because I'm certainly never switching them back."

"Did your parents get mad?" he asked, remembering how she'd said they didn't think that dentistry and magic should be mixed.

She wrinkled her a nose slightly. "Yeah, a bit. But once they realized they obviously couldn't do the counter-spell and change them back, they got over it."

He gave her a small smile and then voiced another observation. "You look a lot different this summer than you did last summer." He was a tiny bit embarrassed that he had said this out because he had spoken once again without thinking, but he figured that it was an obvious observation.

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly and said, "Yeah, the hair and the teeth… But I'm certainly not any taller. I think I'm going to be short forever," she added with a sigh.

She might have been the same height, but her body was changing nonetheless. Ron felt himself blush at this thought and made very sure not to voice it unconsciously. But it was true. She was changing, and although her changes weren't as drastic as some of the other girls' had been over the past couple of years, it was still noticeable. Ron didn't want to think about her like that, but he honestly found that he couldn't help it. He'd been thinking like that a lot lately, and it was driving him crazy.

Getting back to the subject at hand, he swallowed and forced a grin onto his face. "You don't need to get any taller," he told her matter-of- factly.

She returned the grin. "Oh, no? And why not?"

"Because," he said airily, "if you were much taller, I wouldn't be able to pick on you."

She laughed. "I could grow three feet, and you would still pick on me, Ron."

"True…"

"Remember when Harry was the shortest? Remember when I was taller than him?" she asked, smiling. "I really miss those days."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, but I was still taller than you," he pointed out.

"Not by that much!" she protested, thinking back on their first year at Hogwarts when, at eleven years old, the three of them were exactly two inches apart from the next in height- with her in the middle. Harry had bypassed her during their second year, though, and since then she'd undoubtedly been the shortest of the three.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We were perfectly stair-stepped back then, weren't we?"

"Regular Von Trapps," she said grinning.

Von Trapps? Ron gave her a confused look. "Huh?"

Hermione laughed. "Muggle thing," she said dismissively.

Ron accepted this as a perfect explanation. "Anyway, I like you being short like that. It's fun to watch you crane your neck so much every time you're yelling at me furiously." He grinned at her teasingly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shut up," she said in mock-irritation.

Ron laughed, but a sharp pain suddenly shot through his neck out of nowhere. "Ow!" he cried, reaching up to rub the spot that seemed to be now searing with pain.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in his direction. "What's wrong?"

"I don't… Ow!" Another pain shot through him as he tried his best to rub away the other one.

"What did you do?" Hermione was looking at him curiously.

"Nothing!" he insisted, wincing in pain. "It just started hurting!"

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she got off of his bed and crossed the room. "You big baby."

Ron was about to protest her remark… He was about to until she pushed his hands out of the way and replaced them with her own, somehow putting her thumb on the exact point that the pain was stemming from. The second she placed her hands on his bare neck, though, he felt himself tense completely, and he noted that her hands felt like fire on his skin. Damnit. Why was this happening to him? He had realized awhile ago that he couldn't touch her (or vice versa) without feeling himself blush and tense up. The only time lately that it hadn't been an issue had been when she was drunk, and he realized that this was probably because Hermione wasn't exactly conscious to everything that was happening. But it was driving him mad! He should be able to touch her without getting nervous! She was his best friend!

"Is this where it hurts?" she asked, pressing her thumb into his neck and applying pressure to exactly the right spot.

Her question had jerked him out of his reverie, but he noticed that it hadn't caused him to feel any more at ease. "Uh, yeah." He heard his voice crack slightly at the answer, causing the word 'yeah' to turn into two syllables, and he cringed.

Things were getting entirely too complicated, and he wasn't sure how he was expected to deal with all of this… this… boy/girl stuff. Why did Hermione suddenly have to turn into such a girl anyway? He was perfectly happy before when he had been able to treat her exactly the way he treated Harry. But Harry and Hermione were completely different now, and Ron realized this with a sense of uneasiness. Speaking of Harry, Ron wondered if he, too, was suddenly finding things with Hermione to be a bit uncomfortable. Ron thought briefly about asking him, but quickly thought better of it because, one, he didn't want Harry to get any crazy ideas and, two, he realized he didn't want Harry to be dealing with the same sort of awkwardness because that might mean that Harry… No, Ron didn't even want to think about it.

"Does this feel better?" Hermione gently rubbed his neck, somehow putting pressure in all the right spots. Her voice sounded somehow strained, but Ron hardly noticed.

He was too caught up in the way his insides seemed to be lighting with furious heat as they squirmed around much to his dislike. How was this happening? "Yeah," he answered absently, though thoroughly pleased with the fact that his voice didn't break at this response. He was suddenly quite aware of the fact that his breathing didn't seem quite normal; he struggled inwardly with himself to get this under control.

Ron felt the bed shift slightly under him, and he was suddenly aware that she had climbed onto her knees behind him instead of standing as she had been previously. When he noticed that she was so close that he could feel her body pressed against his back, his eyes closed, and a stream of unconscious thoughts shot through his mind.

Thoughts he was positive he should definitely not be having.

His eyes flew open as he realized at this revelation, and he moved quite suddenly, causing her to lean back and rest on the back of her feet. "What's wrong?" she asked, moving so that she could look at him.

He would have given all the gold in Gringotts if she hadn't been able to see how red his face had undoubtedly turned.

"Uh… uh… I just remembered that…that I have to tell… Harry something!" Ron spoke all of this in a very, very uneven voice. He stood up and hurried toward the door in what he prayed was a quick enough motion for her not to notice exactly what it had been that had made standing such an uncomfortable movement in the first place. His heart was pounding quite deafeningly as he slipped through the door and shut it behind him.

Things were definitely getting much too complicated…

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