Chapter II.

Ron hadn't been able to sleep all night; there was too much going on in his head. When it wasn't filled to the brim with racing thoughts about Hermione (How could I have been so stupid? How did I not realize for so long that I was in love with her? Has she ever suspected? She looked really pretty yesterday. I wish I hadn't started that fight with her), it was clouded with more unpleasant ones (Bloody Dean. Who does he think he is, asking her to go to Hogsmeade with him? Sure, I suppose he's a decent sort, but he's not good enough for her. She's loads smarter than he is. Doesn't he know how I feel about her? Of course he doesn't, you idiot…you didn't know until yesterday! Not that it matters; I don't have a chance).

In this frame of mind – confused, angry, frustrated and more than a little sad – he knew it wouldn't exactly be the best of ideas for him to hang around the common room, waiting for Hermione to come down to meet Dean. But he just couldn't keep himself away. And so it was that he came down the stairs, yawning, a little before ten on that Saturday morning. He plopped down onto the sofa before the fire, and was surprised to see Harry settled into the same armchair he'd occupied the night before. "What are you doing up already?" Ron asked. "Did you even go to bed?"

"Of course I did," Harry answered. He was calmly servicing his broomstick with the set of tools Hermione had given him for his birthday several years ago. "I just thought that it might be a good idea if I were down here early this morning."

"To mediate?" Ron smiled.

Harry didn't. "If it becomes necessary," he answered. Then he looked up and met Ron's eyes directly. "Is it going to become necessary, Ron?"

The redhead hunched his shoulders defensively. "I haven't done anything!"

"Yet," Harry said, arching an eyebrow. "Just remember," he reminded Ron, "you decided to let it remain this way, all right? Think about that before starting an argument."

"I'm not going to start an argument," Ron grumbled. "Why is it always my fault, anyway? Surely she starts some of them."

"True," Harry conceded. "She does start some of them. I do find it interesting, though, that as someone who is extremely familiar with the sort of things that will set Hermione off, you seem to do it quite a bit anyway."

"Do what?" Ron asked.

"Provoke her," Harry answered. "Although I suppose we know the answer to that one now, anyway." At Ron's querulous look, Harry elaborated. "Think about it. Think about how much time the two of you spend arguing, and then realize how much time that means she's occupied solely with you."

Ron was aghast. "Do you mean that I pick fights with her to get attention?"

Just then, the "her" in question descended the stairs from the girls' dormitory. She halted suddenly at the bottom, when she caught sight of Ron and Harry sitting there. They both quickly stopped talking, although she didn't miss Harry's brief nod to Ron. "Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say in the sudden silence. "Hello."

Both boys mumbled their hellos. Ron kept his eyes away from Hermione after their first brush over her, but he could still see her in his mind. Instead of her usual Gryffindor House robes, she wore an appealing long-sleeved blouse and a soft-looking skirt. Her hair fell down in waves in the back, but the sides had been pinned up quite attractively with a barrette.

Despite the promise he'd just made to Harry, and the vows he'd taken himself before coming down here this morning, Ron felt himself getting angry. Already, and all he'd done was look at her! But really, how was this fair? He was supposed to just sit back and watch the girl he liked go off with some other boy (whom Ron had carefully avoided up in the dormitory), and that was bad enough. But why did she have to look so pretty today? Did she have any idea how much he'd always liked her hair that way? Ron shook his head angrily. This wasn't going to work.

Before he could say anything he'd regret later, he stood to go. Then he stopped, indecisively. If he left now, without saying anything, Hermione would think he was angry with her. But if he stayed, his jealousy would get the better of him, and then she'd be angry with him when he inevitably picked a fight. What was he supposed to do? He shot a pleading look at Harry, silently begging for help.

Harry caught the look, and understood the reasons for it immediately. "Uh," he said, capturing Hermione's attention. "Um, Hermione. What time are you leaving? Because if it's not for awhile, I was thinking we could all go have breakfast together before I have to be at detention."

Hermione, who'd been watching Ron warily, now focused on Harry. "Oh I can't, Harry, I'm sorry. We're leaving in just a few minutes, and Dean said there's a café he knows in Hogsmeade where we're going to have breakfast."

A small, strangled sound came from Ron's throat. The café! Harry was right! Images of Dean taking Hermione's hand and staring deep into her eyes plagued him. He shut his own eyes, but it didn't help. Damn Harry, anyway! If it weren't for their conversation last night, he might still have been blissfully ignorant of his feelings for Hermione this morning. Of course, he wouldn't have had any idea why he was angry, and that would have been quite baffling, but at least it wouldn't have been painful.

Ron took another stumbling step away, trying to get back up the stairs before he blew his top, but it was too late. Just then Dean came bounding down from the boys' dormitory. He was in an obnoxiously good mood (it seemed to Ron). He fairly skipped up to Hermione, holding a book bag. "I'll be right back," he said. "I've just got to return these books to the library and then we can go, all right?"

"All right," Hermione said. And if that had been all, Ron might have made it safely away without starting a fight. He might've. But then she smiled at Dean, and that was too much.

As Dean left the common room, Ron stalked back to the sitting area. "All right?" Ron demanded. "All right? And that smitten little smile. How happy you must be to've found someone else who actually goes to the library. You just can't wait to go off alone with him, can you?"

Hermione was taken totally off guard. She had ceased to be surprised by the fact that half of the communication that existed between herself and Ron was in the form of an argument, but rarely had he attacked her in this way. All she could manage was, "What?"

"So much for your friends," Ron said bitterly. He could hear it in his own voice, but was unable to stop it. "Leaving Harry here when he's got detention all day, and I guess I'll just rattle around the school alone, so you can go off and cuddle with bloody Dean."

Hermione found her voice – and her anger – in the wake of this accusation. "Excuse me, but I already offered to not go in support of Harry, and he said we should. And that was the extent of any plan-making yesterday. You never once mentioned anything about us going together. If you had, I wouldn't have accepted Dean's invitation!"

"I thought it was understood!" Ron shouted back.

"You thought?" Hermione echoed. "You thought?! I highly doubt that your rude accusations this morning are the product of any thought."

"What about Viktor?" Ron rounded on her. "Does he know you'll be off snogging Dean today?"

Hermione's face drained of blood. Watching nervously from his armchair, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen her that pale before. He was trying to decide whether or not he should interrupt them…stop them before they killed each other…but Hermione quickly took the decision away from him. She'd always had a sharp tongue when she chose to use it.

"For your information, Ronald Weasley, Dean and I are just going to Hogsmeade together. Have some breakfast, maybe lunch later, and do some shopping. I have no plans to 'snog' him, as you so delicately put it. And not that it's any of your business anyway, or Viktor's, who – if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – I do not have a relationship with, other than as pen pals. I consider him a friend, and nothing more.

"But while we're on the subject of friends, I feel compelled to point out that I thought Dean was one of yours. Was I mistaken? Has he done something awful to you in the past, and you just never mentioned it until now? Is he really a horrible person, and you've just seen fit to keep it from me for the past six years? Honestly, Ron, what has he ever done to warrant this vicious attitude from you? Why shouldn't I go with Dean to Hogsmeade today…can you give me a reason?"

Ron stood there fuming, a great big bitter ball forming in the back of his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He had a reason, all right. I'm in love with you. Don't go with him, go with me.

"I…can't," he finally said, swallowing his pride, his hurt, and his loss. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he was unable to meet her eyes. The difference was immediately apparent to both of his friends; he seemed to deflate, like a balloon that's just had air let out of it. "You're right," he said miserably to Hermione. "I'm sorry. He's never done anything to warrant it, and neither have you. I just…"

Ron closed his eyes. "Have a good time today," he forced out, then turned and strode from the common room, leaving Hermione and Harry staring at each other in his absence.

"Okay," Hermione said, looking rather shell-shocked, "that was rather unusual, even for Ron." She rounded on Harry. "What's going on?"

"Uh," Harry squirmed uncomfortably. It was very much not his place to tell Hermione why Ron was so upset, but he honestly felt that she deserved an explanation for his behavior. "He's just…got a lot on his mind right now. He didn't mean any of what he said." He paused, taking in her expression, which was slowly melting from anger to hurt. "It's nothing you did, I swear," Harry said anxiously, trying to forestall any tears.

"But there is something wrong, then?" she asked. "What is it?"

When Harry only bit his lip and didn't answer, Hermione whirled around and started toward the portrait hole entrance. "Where are you going?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I'm going to the library to tell Dean I can't go with him today." She stopped and turned around again to face Harry. "Look, whatever's wrong with Ron is obviously more important to me than a silly trip into Hogsmeade. Dean will understand."

When she made to leave again, Harry cried out to stop her. With visions in his head of Hermione tracking Ron down and forcing another argument about what was bothering him, he could think only of getting her as far away as possible. "You should just go with Dean today," Harry said urgently. "Ron just…needs to work through some things."

Hermione turned back to him again. "But Harry, whatever it is, I can help."

"He doesn't want your help, Hermione; he doesn't want you to know," Harry replied without thinking, then cursed himself as he watched the hurt deepen on her face. "Look, that's not what I meant. I just mean that there's nothing you can do. He's just got to come to grips with things on his own."

Hermione was very still. Much to Harry's dismay, the tears had come, and they were now standing unshed in her eyes. "So," she said thickly, "not only is there something wrong with one of my best friends, and he won't let me help, but my other best friend knows all about it, and is keeping me out of the loop, too."

The first tear spilled silently over one cheek. "I thought we told each other everything?" she asked in a small voice. Harry opened his mouth impotently, unable to think of a nice way to say "everything except for this".

Finally, he said the only thing he was able to. "Just go on to Hogsmeade, Hermione. Have a good time. I'm sure this will have blown over by tomorrow."

Hermione rather looked as if she doubted it (for that matter, Harry doubted it, too), but just then Dean stepped back into the common room from the corridor outside. Still facing Harry, Hermione quickly wiped all traces of the tear from her face, sniffed, and turned to Dean. "Ready?" she said brightly. Dean apparently didn't hear the pain still present in her voice, because he said that he was, and they left together without a backward glance.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"I guess I'll just rattle around the school alone, so you can go off and cuddle with bloody Dean."

Seven excruciating hours later, Ron was still rattling around alone in the school, and his own bitter words were still echoing in his head. Ron was trying not to think about the cuddling part – he really couldn't handle the thought of some other guy touching Hermione – but failing miserably.

And so he'd been wandering around from place to place, bored out of his mind but unable to concentrate on anything due to the visions that plagued him. He didn't even have Harry to talk to, because he wasn't out of detention for another ten minutes…bloody Snape.

Though now that he thought about it, he realized he didn't really need Harry to tell him how badly he'd fouled up this morning. He'd been able to figure it out himself from the hurt look in Hermione's eyes. He couldn't believe some of the things he'd said. He was deeply ashamed of them, but he still couldn't escape the image of her with Dean.

And more than anything else, he kept coming back to these baffling feelings he had for Hermione. How could he have been so blind to the truth? It was right there in front of him the whole time. Harry had told him he'd known for two years, but that he'd had his suspicions for longer than that. Now, thinking back, Ron could remember dozens of incidents that should have clued him in to how he felt for her. Would have, if he hadn't been so thick about it.

Although, Ron snorted, I'd probably give a lot right now to go back to being that thick. At least then I wasn't miserable.

Still…there was something that Hermione had said this morning that stuck with him. Ron wandered along with his hands in his pockets and tried to remember her exact wording. Oh yes, it had been when she was talking about going to Hogsmeade. "You never once mentioned anything about us going together. If you had, I wouldn't have accepted Dean's invitation!"

So what did that mean, exactly? Ron wondered. Did she really mean that she'd have gone with me instead, if I'd asked her? That she'd have chosen me over Dean?

Belatedly, he remembered something else she'd said, two years ago when he'd been jealous over Viktor Krum. She'd told him that the solution to his problem was to ask her before anyone else did, the next time there was a ball, instead of as a last resort.

Ron stopped dead.

Looking back on it, that sounded sort of like an invitation, didn't it? Or at the very least, a statement of intent to accept his invitation. Why hadn't he realized that at the time?

That one's easy, he thought, continuing his aimless walk, because you didn't think you thought of her that way.

In any case, if she had meant it the way it sounded, Ron wondered why she'd never tried again.

But that one's easy, too, he thought, angry with himself. You never acted interested in her as anything other than a friend. So if ever there was a time that she felt something for you – and that's a very slim chance, anyway – she probably moved on due to lack of interest on your part. You idiot!

Lost in his mental self-flagellation, he wasn't aware that he'd made it back up to the main entrance until he ran into something big. Something big and yielding and kind of…

Kind of jiggly?

Looking up, Ron smiled a little. "Hey Hagrid,"

"Oh, hello Ron," Hagrid said after peering down at the redhead who had just bounced off of his stomach. "An' what're you up to this evening, mopin' around?"

Ron shrugged. He didn't really feel like going into all of his woes, right now. "I've just got a lot on my mind," he answered.

"Hmph," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's the same stuff Hermione's got on her mind."

His statement drew Ron's attention like a beacon. "You've seen Hermione?" he asked. "Where? When?"

"Well, just now," Hagrid replied, sounding surprised. "She was comin' in the front door with a load of packages, an' could hardly see over the top a' them. So I held some for 'er until she could do a levitation spell to get them back up to the Gryffindor tower." He paused thoughtfully. "Come ta' think of it, she seemed awfully down, herself."

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Ron said breathlessly. He sped off, leaving a bemused Hagrid in his wake.

With his stomach in knots, Ron raced up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower. He had to apologize to Hermione, but he was desperately afraid of what he'd discover when he found her. He resolved to not ask her how her day with Dean went…he wasn't sure he could stand knowing.

Panting, he reached the top of the stairs and skidded up to the portrait of the fat lady, the password already tripping past his lips. He gave her scarcely enough time to open the entrance way before rushing through.

She closed in a more dignified – that is to say "slow" – fashion than she'd been permitted to open. "Well," she said breathlessly.

To Ron's relief, Hermione was still in the common room. He'd been afraid that she would have already gone up to the girls' dormitory; if she had, he'd have had a right devil of a time trying to climb up the banister, since the stairs would transform into a steep slide the moment he set foot on them.

Ron halted just inside the portrait hole, stopping so fast that he nearly fell over when momentum tried to carry him forward. Hermione – who was alone in the common room and had looked up in surprise when she heard his noisy entrance - smiled a little, and he took heart from it. Maybe she didn't hate him, after all?

Unfortunately, he hadn't thought of what he was going to say, and now they stood awkwardly in the silence as he cast about for an ice breaker. "So…uh…how was Hogsmeade?" he finally stammered.

Idiot! He mentally berated himself. You could have asked her if she needed help. You could have just said you were sorry. You could have just dashed across the room and flung yourself from the window! But no, you had to ask her the one thing you just swore you wouldn't!

Ron cringed in anticipation of her response, dreading being told that Hermione and Dean were a couple now with every fiber of his being.

Hermione sighed a little, looking at all of her packages. "It was all right," she said dismissively, as if she didn't really want to go into it. "I came back with rather more than I'd planned to."

She bent slightly and took hold of the handles on the biggest bag, lifting it up and holding it out to Ron. "I brought some sweets back for you," she said tentatively. "I…I know Honeydukes is one of your most favourite places in the world, and since you didn't go today, I…Well, I got a little of everything."

Beaming at the peace offering, Ron took the bag and looked inside. It did indeed look as if she'd gotten a little of everything. "Wow, Hermione, you're the best!" he exclaimed.

Hermione's smile was more genuine this time, and Ron was relieved. She was going to forgive him. Now he just had to get on with the apologizing part. But before he could formulate a sentence in his brain, his mouth was already working. "Hagrid said you had to do a levitation spell to get it all up here. How'd you lug it around Hogsmeade all day?"

"Oh," Hermione said, clearly reluctant as her smile faded. "Um, Dean helped me carry some of it."

"Oh," Ron echoed, his own smile wiped off as cleanly as if someone had taken a rag and polish to it. "Well…that was nice of him," he said lamely, fighting to keep jealousy out of his voice. Oh, how ridiculous a thing love was, if he could get jealous over some other guy carrying Hermione's packages!

When Hermione said nothing, Ron cleared his throat. "Look, um, Hermione," he finally managed. "You were right. Dean's a decent sort, and…and I'm sorry about the fight this morning. You didn't deserve it, I've just…I've just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding a little bitter, "that's what Harry said this morning."

Alarmed, Ron asked, "Did he say what was on my mind?"

"No," Hermione said, angry when she saw his relief. "Don't worry, your secret is still safe from me."

"Safe from you?" Ron repeated. "Look, it's not really a big, huge secret, it's just something that I've got to work through on my own."

Hermione sighed, as if trying to expel her hurt and anger. "I understand that, Ron, and it's certainly your decision if you don't want to tell me something. It's one thing to know that. But in reality, the truth of it is that I had a horrible time in Hogsmeade today, because all I could think about was what I'd done wrong to make you and Harry not trust me with something."

"Whoa!" Ron said, holding his hands perpendicular to each other in the classic "time out" sign. "Hold up. Who said we didn't trust you?"

"Well it's kind of obvious, Ron," Hermione replied crossly. "Clearly something's been bothering you. But when I went to go tell Dean that I couldn't go with him to Hogsmeade today so I could find you, and help you figure out whatever the problem is, Harry said you didn't want me to know, and you didn't want my help." By the end of her rant, Hermione's voice had somehow made the transition from aggravated to hurt. To his dismay, Ron thought he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes.

Hermione went on, in a small voice, "I mean really, the only other reason I can think of for you to be so dead-set against telling me what's wrong is if you just didn't really want to be my friend any more."

"What?!" Ron nearly exploded. "Hermione, don't you think you're going a little overboard, here?" As soon as he said it, though, he remembered an eleven-year old Hermione skipping all of her afternoon classes so she could go cry in the bathroom because he'd called her a nightmare. And they'd hardly known each other, then, so extreme reactions weren't really all that far out of Hermione's orbit. And here they were, five years later, much closer and much more important to each other. Was it really so unbelievable that she'd react this way to a perceived mistrust? He guessed not. Still… "How do you get from me having an issue I've got to work through, to me not wanting to be friends with you any more?"

Hermione made a strangled sound of frustration. "I don't know, Ron. How would you feel if you found out just enough to know that something was bothering me…bothering me enough so that I snapped at my friends...but I wouldn't tell you what was wrong, and I wouldn't let you help? Wouldn't that bother you?"

Ron thought about it. Put that way, he guessed it would.

Now Hermione's eyes filled with tears again, and they threatened to spill over as she went on. "And then all those awful things you said this morning, and last night, insinuating that I wasn't good enough for Dean, or something…"

Ron wanted to bang his head against the wall. "I said I was sorry for that! Believe me, Hermione, I don't think Dean's too good for you. It's more like the other way around."

Distressed, he watched her shake her head. She closed her eyes in pain, causing a tear to streak down each of her cheeks. He watched in horror as they trailed across her skin before she angrily wiped them away. "Look," he said desperately, finally realizing how much this was hurting her, warranted or not. "It's all right. I'll tell you, all right? Just don't…please don't cry, Hermione."

She only shook her head harder. "It doesn't matter," she said, and started to walk past him.

"Hey!" Ron said. He stopped her, grasping her arms above the elbows. "It does matter! You can't stand there crying and tell me it doesn't."

"Just let me go," Hermione pleaded, obviously trying to stop the stream of tears and managing to look embarrassed at the same time. "I'm sorry I made such a big deal of this, in the first place. You have a right to your own private life, and I don't have to know everything. I just…I just didn't know it would hurt like this."

She finally managed to pull away from him. Stunned, he let her go. "But I certainly don't want you to feel obligated to tell me," she finished. Then she turned away as if to leave the common room.

"How am I supposed to win, here?" Ron demanded shakily. "You're upset because I won't tell you, but then when I say I will tell you, you don't want me to tell you if it's not really what I want?"

Hermione looked back at him once, sadly. "It's not about winning," was all she said. And then she was gone.