Ron didn't return to the Common Room that night. He walked down from the girls' dorm, undetected, and went straight up to his own. Thoughts whirled through his head as he drew the curtains around the bed, and flopped down on his four-poster.

He tried to get his head around the fact that Hermione, his best friend for six years, was in love with him. He couldn't make himself admit that the feeling was mutual. Ron continued battling with his thoughts, until he finally fell in troubled sleep.

* * *

The next morning Ron was early to rise and go down to the Common room. He had decided, that until he figured out his feelings for Hermione (and admitted them to himself), he would simply avoid her. Easier said than done, seeing as she was in a majority of his classes.

There were few people in the Great Hall for breakfast yet. "Good"' he said to himself, tiredly,  "I don't want to talk to anyone." Ron sat down to butter some toast, dropping back to his thoughts.

He didn't realise that he was still buttering that same piece ten minutes later, when Harry walked in.

"Like some toast with your butter there, Ron?" he asked.

"Huh?" Ron looked up, then down, dumbly. He groaned when he saw the inch-thick layer melting slowly, and threw the slice back onto his plate, before taking another, starting the whole process over again.

Harry chuckled, and sat down opposite him, dressed for Quidditch Practice. Harry had been appointed the new Gryffindor captain, and had already led the team to victory in his debut.

"Tired?" Harry asked, getting some toast for himself.

Ron yawned widely. "What makes you say that?" he grumbled.

"Try the fact that you're using the wrong end of the butter knife."

Ron looked down at his breakfast again, and saw that Harry was right. He was using the handle of the knife to spread butter on his toast. "Oh,"

Throwing the toast and offending utensil down in disgust, Ron got up and walked out of the Great Hall, breakfast completely forgotten.

"Don't forget Quidditch Practice," Harry called after him.

Ron waved a hand to show he'd heard, but kept walking, muttering to himself.

Harry watched his friend leave, puzzled at his behaviour. Putting it down to hormones, he returned to his own breakfast.

* * *

Ron was caught up in his brooding again, when he turned a corner in the corridor and almost walked right into Ginny. She a new chaser on the team, after the Twins, Angelina, Alicia and Katie had finished school, and was thus dressed, like Harry, for Quidditch practice.

"Look out, Ron!" she said, sidestepping just in time.

"Oh, uh…sorry," he replied, distractedly.

"You look terrible," she stated, plainly.

"Thanks ever so,"

She eyed him curiously. Growing up as the only daughter in a house of boys, she instantly picked up on his mood. "Who is she then?"

"What?"

"I'm not stupid, Ron. It's as plain as day that you're brooding over some bird. Who is she?"

"There is no 'she'," said Ron, irritatedly. He hated the fact that his sister could practically read his mind.

"Well it isn't a 'he', is it? Mum would probably have a fit,"

"Of course its not a 'he'!" he spluttered.

"So it is a 'she' then?" she smiled. "You'll get over her."

"I doubt it," he mumbled.

Startled by his own answer, Ron pushed past her, heading off towards the Gryffindor common room.

"Well, hurry up then. We have Quidditch Practice this morning." Ginny called to his retreating back. *How odd* she thought to herself, before heading off to the Great Hall for breakfast. The whole conversation was soon forgotten at the prospect of talking to Harry, without her elder brother hanging over her shoulder.

* * *

Ron grumbled all the way back to the Common Room, and was so engrossed in his muttering that he didn't see the portrait hole open, until it was too late…

*Crack* Ron stumbled and fell with a thud as he collided with the fat lady's picture frame. He clutched his forehead, which had taken the brunt of the impact and cursed.

"Ronald Weasley! Watch your language!"

*Brilliant*, he thought to himself, *Just what I needed right now* He didn't have to look up to know Hermione was standing over him, scowling.

*So much for avoiding her*

Ron raised his eyes slowly to meet hers. "Morning, Hermione," he ventured cautiously. As much as he enjoyed bickering with her, he really didn't think it would be a good idea to start an argument that particular morning.

Hermione's features softened, and a soft smile spread across her face, as she looked down at his sheepish grin and the red lump growing on his forehead.

"Are you alright?" she asked, extending a hand to help him up, which he took readily.

He noticed, for the first time, the small jolt of electricity that fled through his body when their skin touched.

Ron mumbled his thanks, again startled by this new development about his feelings for Hermione, and sidled by her, into the Common Room. As he passed, he muttered some kind of excuse, which, to Hermione, sounded like either, "I have Quidditch," or "I love Cabbage." Knowing his dislike of most vegetables, she decided the former of the two made much more sense.