A/N: Well, this was fast, wasn't it? THANKS SO MUCH for your feedback, guys! It is so motivating!!!

I would like to address one thing, though. The reason Professor Lupin is so casual with the trio is because he feels like he can treat them as equals instead of average students.

Disclaimer: Still not mine!

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Three fifteen year old Gryffindors sat in silence as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher looked sternly from one to the next to the next. They were all smart enough to know that Professor Lupin, while he was definitely one of their "cooler" teachers was not a man to mess with. They'd seen his temper flare in class when his students had gotten too loud or too rowdy. They'd seen the way he sneered at Snape in disgust. They'd seen all of this.

But he'd never really yelled at them.

Perhaps it was because he felt sorry for them, or maybe he felt protective, or maybe they just reminded him so much of himself and his own best friends at that age that he couldn't bring himself to be angry at them for any of the stupid things they did. However, at that moment, he was clearly angry, and all three teenagers knew they were in for a very harsh chewing out.

Ron was so angry with Harry that he really didn't care if he was going to get in trouble for his earlier actions. Harry was currently battling between feeling extreme dislike toward his best friend and feeling extreme guilt because one of his father's best friends was so visibly upset with him. Hermione was feeling rather slighted, as she was undoubtedly in for the same blessing out that the boys would be getting when she really hadn't done anything at all except for scream at them a little. She certainly hadn't been involved in the incident that had landed them in the infirmary in the first place.

"Now, listen to me," Professor Lupin said sternly. "And listen good. I honestly don't give a damn what caused this stupid little brawl because I'm sure whatever caused it was petty and unimportant. In fact, the only important thing at the moment is the fact that you get over it and quickly." He looked directly at Harry. "Are you aware that there are hundreds of people out there right now who want to kill you?"

Harry scowled and looked down at the bed-coverings, carefully biting his tongue so as not to blurt out with, "No! I had no idea whatsoever!" in a voice a little more sarcastic than would be profitable in their current situation.

Apparently, though, Lupin actually wanted to hear a response because he stared expectantly at Harry for a long moment. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but I think I asked you a question."

Harry looked up, willing himself not to be a total smartass. Slightly scowling, he muttered a barely audible, "Yes."

Lupin looked at him sternly, and Harry half-expected him to say, "Yes, what?" But he thankfully didn't. He, instead, turned his attention to Ron and addressed the redhead. "And just what do you think your mother would do if we had to write home and tell her that her youngest son and his best friend were in a petty argument, which, in turn, resulted in the exact thing the Dark Side needed to claim both of their lives? Do you think she'd be happy about that?"

Ron, obviously learning from Harry's mistake of thinking Lupin's questions were rhetorical, muttered a quiet, "No," and Lupin went on.

"Your mother is pregnant, no?" Ron gave a slight nod. "What do you think would happen to that baby if your mother got the news that her youngest son was very much dead?"

Harry felt extremely guilty at the mention of Mrs. Weasley; she'd been the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known, and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Ron, too, was obviously feeling quite the guilt trip because he had to look away and out the window.

Thankfully, Professor Lupin didn't press for an answer to his latest question, and he simply moved onto the third member of the trio. He looked very pointedly at Hermione and said, "And you, Miss Granger, happen to be in terrible danger as well. Of course, I'm sure you already know that, seeing as you are not only of Muggle-born descent but also best friends with these two . I'm sure you would never do anything to endanger yourself in any way at all, now would you?" The sarcasm was not missed.

Hermione spoke up determinedly, not thinking that the lecture was at all fair. "But Professor, I didn't..."

She was cut off. "I am well-aware of the fact that you had nothing to do with the earlier incident, but that doesn't change the fact that you seem to be just as delusional about the situation as Ron and Harry are." He turned his attention back to the lot of them. "People want to kill you. They want you all dead. And the sooner the better."

No one dared to speak.

Except for the teacher, of course. He went right on as if he hadn't just predicted the deaths of three Fifth Years. "And there are people here who are more than willing to give those people the information they desire." His face took on a look of slight disgust. "Just take for example that little shit Draco Malfoy." All three Gryffindors scowled at the mention of their arch-enemy. "Do you even know who his father is?"

They'd have to be completely thick not to know.

"That prick got off the first time around," Lupin went on disgustedly. "He fed the courts some bullshit about the Imperious Curse, but anyone with half a brain knew he was lying. Too bad for us the Ministry is made up of a bunch of no-brained idiots." Ron looked quite offended at the remark, and Lupin obviously saw this. "The Ministry Court Officials, anyway," he corrected fleetingly. "But he's back now; you saw him at the resurrection, right Harry?" Harry nodded. "And he's one of the worst, let me tell you. He's probably the biggest threat you've got because he has not only the obvious agenda against Harry, he also hates your family." He turned to Ron at the last part of the statement. "I'm sure he would just love to be the one to capture Famous Harry Potter, and I'm willing to bet that knocking off one of Arthur Weasley's kids and a Muggle-born who happened to have higher marks than his own son would just be a couple of added bonuses. And I'm sure dear old Draco would just love to be the one to lead his father straight to what he wanted to find."

Hermione spoke up then, obviously willing to interrupt in an attempt to make an obvious point known. "But we're not stupid enough to run and tell Malfoy anything. And he's certainly not stupid enough to ask us."

The teacher just gave Hermione a disbelieving look, one that she wasn't used to receiving from professors; it clearly said, "Are you completely mad?" He verbally said, "Well, have you ever heard the phrase, 'Good news travels fast?' Just how did you hear about Ron and Harry's fight anyway?"

Hermione looked down at her lap, obviously feeling quite stupid. Quietly, she said, "Padma Patil told me." Padma, who had obviously been nowhere near the Divination classroom, had quite obviously heard it from someone who had, most likely her twin sister. Gossip certainly did make the rounds at Hogwarts quickly enough.

Professor Lupin nodded, satisfied with the answer. He turned to the students again and spoke seriously. "Just think about what you're doing by fighting with each other. Do any of you have any idea what it's like to lose your best friends?" He looked very pointedly at Harry, his eyes clouding with unmistakable sadness. "Take it from me, it's not a good feeling." Images of what the Marauders must have been like at Hogwarts instantly filled Harry's mind, and he suddenly missed his parents. Obviously, Lupin did, too, because he closed his eyes briefly before speaking again. "I know that none of you are stupid. But if you don't quit acting that way, you're going to end up in something you can't get out of." His tone quieted greatly, and he almost took on a rather sympathetic look. "And I know that the three of you love each other, but I'm not going to baby you and stand over you until you apologize. You have to do that on your own. And I expect you all to think twice before being so thick in the future."

With that, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher simply turned around exited the infirmary. He didn't dish out a hundred detentions or any sort of punishment at all. Harry almost wished he would have, though; it would have been better than the horrible guilt he was feeling as he sat in complete silence with the two people who had meant more to him than any others ever had. The awkwardness was crazy between them, and Harry wished more than anything that he could just steal a Time-Turner and do the whole thing over again.

He hadn't really wanted to fight anyway.

Hermione was the first to speak, but it wasn't really something that was going to smooth over the timid situation. Quietly, she stood up, carefully avoiding both boys' eyes and said, "I have to go back to class."

Harry wanted to tell her to wait, but he didn't. Ron didn't, either, and so she left, gathering up her dropped bag on the way out the door. The awkwardness filling the air between Ron and Harry was now doubly thick. Harry wanted to say something, anything just to make things better.

In all truth, he hated fighting.

Especially with Ron.

The weeks he'd spent the year before not speaking with Ron had, in all honesty, been the worst weeks of his life since he'd been at Hogwarts. All the other times that he'd felt ousted and been made to feel like a pariah, he'd had Ron by his side. But for those weeks in Fourth Year, he'd been completely alone. Well, not completely; Hermione had, of course, stayed by his side and kept him company. And Harry liked Hermione alright; she was definitely handy to have around when there was a tough Charms question, and she could even be funny when she was having a good day. But Hermione wasn't Ron, and Ron was what Harry needed. He needed him more than anything, and he couldn't, wouldn't let this come between them.

Because, like Professor Lupin had said, losing your best friends wasn't a nice feeling.

"Ron, I'm sorry."

His words had come out before he'd even managed to think them properly. However, this just went to show him that it was the only thing that needed to be said. He turned timidly to face who hoped was still his best friend.

Ron looked over; he was quite pale in the face, and Harry suspected that he, too, had been imagining what it must be like to lose your best friends. When he met Harry's eyes, though, he simply shook his head.

"No. I'm sorry." He looked away for a second and then back to the other boy. "I really didn't mean to hit you."

Harry shrugged, beyond thankful that Ron didn't hate him. "I deserved it."

But Ron shook his head again. "No, Harry. I'm serious. I really didn't mean to; I mean, I don't know what happened."

Harry knew that Ron was capable of fumbling around excuses for hours, and he also knew that Ron really had no real reason to apologize. After all, Harry was well aware of the fact that the fight had been mostly his fault, and he told Ron as much. "I was being an ass. It was my own fault."

"But..." Ron trailed off. "I..." He sighed finally, "You're my best friend, Harry."

Harry understood perfectly, and he realized he didn't need to hear anymore. Anything they said would just be repetitive because things were already fine between them; they understood things about each other that other people didn't, and this was one of those things. Harry simply offered a half-smile and a shrug.

Ron was quiet for a moment before breaking into his own nervous grin and giving a single nod of the head..

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Ron and Harry hadn't been at either lunch or dinner, and Hermione suspected that Madame Pomfrey was being very strict with their "recovery" and keeping them in bed for most of the day. Hermione really couldn't see what they had to recover from, though; unless, of course, being idiotic prats was considered an illness these days. She hadn't gone to visit them anymore because she'd been far too busy thinking about what Professor Lupin had said and trying to make sense of it all.

"Do any of you have any idea what it's like to lose your best friends?"

The simple question had sent immediate chills through her body, and Hermione was instantly filled with a dread she'd been trying very hard to ignore for the past few months. She wouldn't tell anyone, but her biggest fear was no longer failing all of her subjects as it had been in Third Year. She prayed daily that Professor Lupin wouldn't bring another Boggart to class and make them all face their fears again because if he did, she wasn't sure she could face hers and make anything at all funny out of it.

Her biggest fear was losing someone she loved.

"And I know that the three of you love each other."

Well, the werewolf definitely spoke the truth with that statement. She'd never come right out and told Harry or Ron that she loved them, and she was willing to bet her entire life's savings that they certainly hadn't said those words to each other. But they all knew it.

Hermione had loved very few things in her fifteen years. She loved her parents, of course, and she'd loved Crookshanks from the moment she saw him in the pet store two years earlier. She'd loved books for as long as she could remember, and she actually loved school, making her the butt of many not-so-funny jokes by her schoolmates.

But Harry and Ron were the first people her own age (cousins not included) that she could claim to actually love. In fact, they were the only people in the world she could really claim as true friends. And that, of course, was why she loved them. She had other "friends," yes. Parvati and Lavender were okay sometimes, and Ginny was definitely a fairly good confidante. Neville was her friend; and if anyone deserved friendship it was Neville Longbottom. There were others, too- Dean and Seamus and a few younger Gryffindors that she would consider a bit more than associates; she had friends in her Arithmancy class from the other houses, but it wasn't like she went to any of them when she had a real problem.

It wasn't like she went to anyone except for Harry and Ron.

They were her first friends- the first friends she'd ever had in her entire life. They were the only people she trusted completely and wholly, no matter what the circumstances (well, for the most part anyway...). They hadn't cared that her teeth had been too big for her mouth or that her hair was larger than her body frame. They hadn't cared that she had an overpowering need to always be right and always get the answers in class before anyone else. Okay, so maybe they had cared about that, but it hadn't caused them to stop being her friend. They hadn't ever cared that she wasn't the prettiest or the most popular girl in their year; they'd never thought less of her because she wasn't pure-blooded.

Because that's just how friends were.

Harry was like the brother she never had; he was a lot like her in many aspects, and she definitely had more in common with him than she did most of the other students at their school. He'd been raised in a Muggle home just as she had; granted, their upbringings were undoubtedly quite a bit different judging from the people who had raised them. But still, they'd both spent eleven years of their lives thinking that witches and wizards were fictional characters; they'd both gotten their early education in Muggle primary schools. He was sensitive enough, and while he might not be as into protecting every single living creature's rights like Hermione was, he was more attentive to those things than most people. Definitely more so than Ron.

Ron.

Now, how in the world had that even happened? She was not supposed to be friends with him, not at first anyway. He'd been awful to her in their first couple of months of school, teasing her and saying mean things to her. But then he'd saved her life- well, him and Harry. At first, Hermione had been so wrapped up in the whole "Harry Potter Story" that she hadn't even really thought about Ron's part in the whole Troll Rescue Mission, other than the fact that it was all his fault to begin with, of course. She'd simply assumed that since Famous Harry Potter was such a magnificent hero that he'd planned and executed her rescuing all by himself; Ron had simply been around when it happened. In the days following that Halloween night, she hadn't even wanted to associate with Ron Weasley, but he was already Harry's best friend, and if she wanted to be friends with Harry Potter, she had to take Ron Weasley, too. Of course, as the months of their first year passed, she realized that she'd been wrong; Ron had been just as instrumental in saving her life as Harry had, and Ron was just as good of a friend as Harry was. They soon became so tight that the three of them were nearly inseparable, and they'd stayed that way for five years.

But Ron was a world different from Harry, and he was a universe different from herself. Perhaps that was why they'd always fought so much. They'd started out bickering, and things hadn't changed much over the years; they still fought about petty things, and they still got so exasperated with each other that screaming was the only possible solution to the problem. There was no other person on the planet who could work her up the way Ron could. He was simply infuriating sometimes! But they never meant anything they said in their arguments; at least she never did, and she was pretty positive that he didn't, either. They would fight and then things would blow over as quickly as they'd blown up.

Except for that one time...

That one time back in Third Year when they'd had their biggest fight of all- the one about Scabbers and Crookshanks. She hadn't meant for it get as serious as it had, and she was pretty sure that Ron hadn't, either. But that didn't matter because it had; it had gotten serious, and it had resulted in months of not speaking with each other. Of course, the whole situation had only been made worse by the fact that Harry was also angry with her over that stupid broomstick and had taken a rare page out of Ron's book and given her the silent treatment, too. So, she'd been completely friendless during what was, quite possibly, the toughest time she'd ever experienced at school. Of course, that had been her own fault; she knew now that she should have never tried to take on as much as she had, but she was only thirteen years old and quite under the impression that she could do anything.

Anything except survive without her best friends.

How many nights had she cried herself to sleep that year? Parvati and Lavender had gotten so angry with her that they'd threatened to tell the whole school she was crying herself into slumber every night if she didn't stop. That's when she had taken to staying in the Common Room later than everyone else and breaking down into tears the second she was alone. Once she'd cried herself silly and couldn't see straight anymore, she'd finally retreat to her dorm and cry the last of the tears silently while her roommates slept on. Why was she crying? Maybe she was just overworked, or maybe she was just miserable. It didn't really matter.

She remembered what was by far the worst night of that year clearly. It had been the night following the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match, and a huge party was being thrown in honor of the Gryffindor team. She'd gone to the match and sat quietly between Lavender and Brown and Dean Thomas, neither of which had so much as spoken to her during the entire match. The party afterward was much the same; she sat in a corner of the Common Room trying to do some reading for Muggle Studies and growing increasingly annoyed with all the loud and immature celebrations surrounding her. Harry was the only person who had even deemed to speak to her that evening, but she knew it was just out of guilt; he was trying to smooth things over without actually apologizing for the whole Firebolt incident. He'd asked her to join the party, but she'd told him she had too much to do and that Ron didn't want her there anyway.

:"If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them-"

Ron's words had sent her over the edge, and she'd broken down completely, bursting into tears and running up the staircase to the girls' dormitory.

No one came after her.

But later that night, after she'd finally fallen into a fitful sleep, she'd been awaken again by a loud shrieking, coming from the room which ran parallel to her own- the Third Year Boys. Panic had hit her immediately, and she wasted no time leaping out of bed and hurrying in the direction of the boys' dormitory. She'd stopped, though, when she saw all five Third Year boys racing down the stairs in a panic, Harry in the lead and Ron right behind him. Her fist instinct had been to race over to her best friends and ask what was wrong, but she remembered only a second later that neither of those "best friends" was really speaking to her. So, she hung back in the shadow of the staircase and waited.

Percy appeared telling everyone to go back to bed immediately just like the Head Boy that he was. But when Ron had grabbed his older brother's arm and spoken in that horribly faint voice, Hermione had felt something she hadn't wanted to feel.

"Perce- Sirius Black! In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The whole Common Room stilled, and Hermione felt her heart actually stop for a moment. Sinking further back into the shadows, she slumped down on the bottom of the stairs and shakily put her head into her hands, whispering, "No, no, no," to whatever she'd thought would listen at that moment.

:"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE! PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

That was the next thing she heard, or at least it was the next thing she comprehended. It was the last, too, because after hearing Ron tell their head of house those words, Hermione had leapt up from her place on the stairs and raced back up them to her own bed where she collapsed in a heap of horrible sobs.

Perhaps it had been at that moment that Hermione had first realized just how important Ron and Harry's friendship was to her. It had certainly been the first time that she'd ever actually feared for their lives. In their first year, she'd been too young and too inexperienced to realize the exact danger they were placing themselves in by going after the Philosopher's Stone. And in Second Year, she'd been petrified when the boys had dropped a mile below the school into the Chamber of Secrets. But that night back in Third Year, she'd realized that both of her best friends were in danger of dying, and it had been all the wake up call she needed. Of course, it had still taken a few days sort out the argument, but once she'd made up with the boys, she'd promised herself that she would never again let herself get involved in an argument silly enough to actually ruin her friendship.

But then... Things were so much different now than they'd been two years ago. Two years ago, she'd never looked at Ron and thought about how adorably cute he was. Two years ago, she'd never woken up from a dream in which Ron had not only been the key-player but had also been her own personal hero. Two years ago, things hadn't been so bloody complicated!

And after last night, well, she just figured that maybe they were over their fighting stage and had finally moved onto something else. He'd been so nice to her, and he'd... He'd almost kissed her.

And what was even worse than that was the fact that she'd wanted him to.

Not that she knew why or even when this change in feeling had occurred. All she knew was that it had and that she, while being slightly scared, was also very interested in exploring this newfound emotion. Questions about why it was Ron and not Harry the Hero had flooded her mind for the past several months, but when she actually thought about it, she understood quite well.

Ron was her polarity.

He as the exact opposite of her, as she was of him. And yet they still needed each other to survive. It was like the Yin Yang sign- one just didn't make sense without the other. And so maybe it was always supposed to be Ron; Hermione didn't know, and she didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that whatever silly illusion she'd had of the two of them maybe being something more than friends was just that- a silly illusion.

Ron had proved as much earlier when he'd yelled at her. It hadn't been so much the "brilliant, know-it-all, suck up" comment that had upset her, as it had been the, "You can't believe what, Hermione?! That you lowered your standards enough to befriend two idiots like us?!" How could he even think that? She didn't regret their friendship, and she had never considered the relationship she had with the boys to have anything to do with "lowering her standards."

And he was just as much of an idiot as he'd proclaimed himself to be if he thought for a second that she had.

As if Fate really did hate her, the Portrait Hole opened at that moment and in walked none other than Mr. Ronald Weasley himself. She was simply in no mood to listen to anymore of his stupidity, so she simply reached down for her bag that was sitting beside the table and started packing away her books and parchment, all in the intent of going up to her dorm before he could speak to her. If he was going to anyway, of course.

However, he apparently was very intent on speaking with her because he walked quite quickly over to her table and reached for her bag, sliding it out of her reach and looking at her intently.

"We need to talk."

Hermione, quite annoyed that he was attempting to halt her packing-up, simply rolled her eyes and reached for the bag again. However, Ron actually picked it up and placed it in a chair on the other side of the table. Hermione huffed up and glared at him. "Give me my bag," she said evenly.

Ron, standing in front of her, so as to block any attempts she might make at escaping, shook his head seriously. "We really need to talk."

Hermione realized that Ron was not going to back down, so she simply continued to send him sharp looks. "Where's Harry? Landed him in St. Mungo's, yet, have you?"

Ron glanced down at the ground. "He's with Dumbledore. Will you please just talk to me?"

There was no use fighting it; when Ron said, "Please," Hermione automatically gave in. No matter what the question. And, in all honestly, she really did think they needed to talk. There were some things that had been avoided for far too long, and they needed to resolve those. Sighing softly, she quietly said, "Fine."

Ron flashed her a nervous grin and then held his hand out to her. "Want to go for a walk?"

Hermione eyed the offered hand for a moment, memories of the same question being asked by herself only the night before coming back into her mind. Carefully, she placed her own small hand into his larger one and nodded slightly. "Okay."

Ron blushed, as though he was suddenly aware that he was holding a girl's hand in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room. Thankfully, though, there weren't that many people around, as most people were either still down at dinner of elsewhere within the castle. There were only a few Second Years playing a game of Exploding Snap by the fire and a couple of Seventh Years who were studying diligently for an upcoming Potions exam, which was obviously quite important to their graduation. Once he got over his initial embarrassment, Ron gently tugged her in the direction of the Portrait Hole and held it open for her as she stepped into the corridor. When he'd joined her, and the Fat Lady had gotten over her momentary and quite unladylike snickering, she'd turned and asked him where they were going.

"Well, there's something I want to show you," he answered nervously.

Hermione cautiously let him lead her down the corridors and out the back door of the castle; neither of them spoke at all until they reached their destination, hands still entwined with each other's.

"The Quidditch Pitch?" Hermione asked, confused that Ron had brought her to a place she'd been dozens of times before. "Why did you want to show me this?"

"Not the Pitch," he answered fleetingly, tugging her in the direction of the surrounding bleachers. "I wanted to show you this."

He'd pulled her to what looked like a door leading into the ground. It was overgrown with weeds, but it was there and able to be made out under close inspection. Ron let go of her hand and dropped to his knees beside the little door. Pulling up some of the weeds that were covering it, he tugged on the small handle until it finally popped open, revealing a very dark hole underneath it. Hermione looked at Ron curiously before dropping to her own knees and peering down into the darkness. It was impossible to tell exactly what was below them, but Hermione suspected it was some sort of a room, though she definitely didn't want to drop down there and find out.

Ron, however, did exactly that.

Without a word to her, he swung his legs over the side of the hole and squeezed his body through the opening. "Ron!" she screamed out of instinct before hearing his feet hit the ground a second later.

She heard him mutter, "Lumos!" and the room suddenly lit up by the light of his wand. She saw that the room wasn't too deep at all, and she could see Ron's freckled face perfectly as it stared expectantly up at her. "Come on," he said pointedly.

Hermione just stared down at him. Finally, she widened her eyes and said, "Are you crazy?! I'm not going down there!"

She saw Ron roll his eyes. "Oh, don't be stupid," he said exasperatedly. "It's just a room; there's nothing down here. I swear."

Hermione bit her lower lip nervously. She was fairly sure that Ron wouldn't lie to her and drop her into some horrible room infested with rats and snakes and bugs, as he himself was quite terrified of spiders. Swallowing whatever apprehension she had, Hermione ran her tongue over her lips and carefully grasped the edge of the hole before lowering herself into it slowly. When her feet didn't hit the ground, she inwardly swore and tightened the grip she had on the edge of the doorway. "Help me," she said expectantly.

She heard Ron's voice snicker and then say, "Just jump down."

"No!" she said, quickly losing both her patience and her grip. "Get me a chair!"

"Hermione, there aren't any chairs," Ron said slowly. The amusement in his voice was not at all well-hidden. "You're only a couple of feet from the floor. Just jump."

"No!" she said again. "Help me!"

Ron sighed, and she heard his footsteps approaching the area where her body was hanging. However, the second she felt his arms wrap around her middle, supporting her weight with his body, she instantly wished she would have just jumped. She tried very hard not to concentrate on the prickling sensation that was shooting through her body, starting where his hands were pressed into her back and ending at the tips of her toes. Without thinking, she looked down and met Ron's eyes; he was staring back up at her with the same sort of intense look that she was feeling- if feeling a look was even possible.

"You probably need to let go."

His statement was quiet, but it immediately knocked some well-needed sense into Hermione, and she instantly let go of her grip on the side of the opening. Ron grunted dramatically as her full weight came to rest on him, and Hermione rolled her eyes, swatting him on the arm. To her surprise, though, he didn't set her down; he simply held her halfway in the air and grinned at her. "I'm just kidding. You really need to start eating more; you don't weigh anything."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "I seem to remember you telling me I was fat that night at the coast."

The mention of "that night" immediately jerked both of them into a semi- shocked state. Ron looked up at her curiously, still not setting her down. "You remember that night?"

Blushing furiously, as she'd claimed to have no memory of the evening, Hermione stammered around for an explanation. "No. I mean... A little bit."

A rather mischievous look covered Ron's face as he spoke. "You know, you really owe me big time for that night."

Hermione rolled her eyes for a third time, instantly getting over her momentary embarrassment. "I think I've paid you back plenty of times by doing your homework for the past five years."

"Hermione, you have never done my homework. 'How will you learn?!' " he mimicked in a scarily accurate voice.

"Put me down," Hermione said sharply, not at all impressed by his imitation.

Ron laughed and finally sat her down. She looked around the room and saw that it wasn't very big and probably couldn't hold too much except for the two of them. With a raised eyebrow, she turned to Ron and said, "What is this place?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I never could figure out what it was supposed to be, but I found it last year."

"Well, why did you bring me down here?"

Ron paused and glanced away. Then he turned back to her and seriously said, "Because there's something I need to ask you."

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Dum... Dum... Dum... Haha! Kill me now, okay? Because you'll just have to wait for the next installment to see what he wants to ask her!

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