CHAPTER FIVE

"There's a name that plays in my head like a song, all day long, she's with me every day….After all, in the end, its just pretend…If the sun can shine you will be just fine, look into your mind when you're free…(after all in the end, it's just pretend) 'Caue we hurt each other once before, let's not do that again…After all, in the end, it's just pretend…"

"Just Pretend", THE THREE BENS

AN: I love all you guys who come back here checking for updates in the blind faith that I might have actually improved it. I'm actually much happier with the way the story is going this time, it's some much tidier and less confusing than the last one. Hurrah. What do you guys think? Better or worse? Let me know.
Meanwhile, I have SO MANY BLOODY ASSIGNMENTS IT'S NOT FUNNY. This whole workload thing is completely ruining the university experience for me. I have to say, I'm quite disappointed with, you know, my life. But enough about me. let's talk more about Ron. He's cool. Oh, just read the chapter.

*

Ron came back to the Gryffindor common room after the first day of school in a spectacularly bad mood. The day had started with an assembly for all the sixth years in which Dumbledore had announced those students who were on the list for consideration for Head Boy and Girl- and while Harry's an Hermione's names had both been on the list, Ron's hadn't. Then followed double Potions- a class which they still shared with the Slytherins- and then, after lunch, he had had another double period of Divination. Professor Trewlawney had become insufferable since it was revealed that she had made a real prediction in the presence of Harry Potter, and the school's non-believers had suddenly started treating her with a bit of respect. It was also intolerable to have to spend two hours with Parvati Patil, his ex-girlfriend, lording it over the rest of the class because of her perfect Divination grades. At least she was no loner on speaking terms with Lavender Brown- the two of them together had been double torture. Nowadays, Lavender preferred to spend her time with Hermione, having unexpectedly revealed herself last year to be not quite the ditz Ron had made her out to be. She was extremely over-sensitive, but she had a sincerity about her that was quite endearing; and, though her developed skills as a conversationalist were wasted on someone such as Ron, who only talked when he needed to, she was kind and amiable and occasionally made an observation worth listening to.

But by dinnertime that evening, Ron was in no mood for her incessant chatter. What he would have liked, more than anything, was to stay up in the common room with Hermione and lay his head down in her lap, with her hands in his hair, and just talk- or not talk. Just being with her would have been nice. But there didn't seem to be the time or the space to slip away for a quiet bit of time alone, not with start-of-term spirits running high and their fellow Gryffindors surrounding them. Ron knew what would happen if he and Hermione wandered off for a bit of chat- Dean and Seamus would whistle and whoop and make seedy innuendoes; Lavender would beam and nod at them like a proud mother seeing her daughter off to a school dance; and Harry would smile and shake his head and look away. The noisy Hall did nothing to calm his headache, and the stiff wooden chairs felt anything but comfortable.

Hermione, too, was in a demonstrably sour mood, but she seemed to be dealing with it by behaving snappy and silent. Ron wondered what her problem was, and why she wouldn't turn to him for consolation. The observation wasn't particularly heartening, and even Harry's relatively neutral mood was spoiled by the fact that he was expecting a letter from Sirius and it had not yet come.

"You're in a mood," Harry remarked, as Hermione flicked a few slices of carrot aside, morosely.

"Oh, am I?" she said vaguely. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," said Harry. "What's up?"

"Oh, things." Hermione said, and then fell silent, with a sideways glance at Ron. Not a very nice sideways glance, either, which made him leap to the sudden, deadly conclusion that it was he who had put her in a bad mood. He immediately ran through the events of the day, trying to pinpoint what it was so he could apologise.

"Not hungry?" said Hermione, as Ron put his fork down so he could rest his head in his hands.

"Nope," said Ron. Actually, he had been starving before dinner, but as usual, seeing Hermione made other trivial things like retaining sustenance fly out of his head. Harry continued talking quietly as he piled his mushrooms onto Hermione's plate (Harry couldn't stand mushrooms.) "Got lots of homework from Vector?"

"What? Oh no, she didn't give us any." Hermione said absent-mindedly. Within seconds though, her brow furrowed and she was speaking hotly. "But Draco Malfoy! Somehow I've ended up sitting next to him, and he's even worse close up! God, he was bothering me all throughout the lecture, I didn't catch a word of it, and-"

Ron, who had been taking a swig of pumpkin juice, slammed down his goblet on the table with such force that it sloshed onto the cuff of his school uniform. "Draco Malfoy."

"Yes," said Hermione, concerned.

"Him? Again, bothering you?" He shoved back his chair. "Right."

"Ron," said Harry. "Don't be stupid. Ron-"

But Ron was marching over to the Slytherin table, reckless discourse pouring through his legs and propelling him forward. He'd had it up to there with Draco Malfoy- they hadn't even been back at Hogwarts for three days and twice Draco had already troubled Hermione- who on earth did he think he was? What right did he have to go around abusing Ron's poor Hermione? In Ron's opinion Malfoy wasn't even fit enough to talk to her, look at her, or even think about her. Which was exactly what he was planning to tell Malfoy when he reached the table.

"Right, you," he said, hauling Malfoy bodily out of his chair. Malfoy looked dumbly up at him for a second or two, his fork still in his hand. Then his face settled into its usual smirk and Ron prepared himself for the twin shadows of Crabbe and Goyle to loom over him. But then he remembered- there was no Crabbe and Goyle this year- nothing to stop him beating Malfoy to a bloody pulp!

Except Professor Dumbledore, of course.

"Ah, Ronald," he said, emerging at a most awkward moment from the dungeons with Professor Snape in tow. "I wanted to have a word with you up in my office. You're finished dinner, I assume?"

"Yes, Professor," mumbled Ron, dropping Malfoy immediately. The Slytherin slipped satisfyingly to the floor, hitting his chair on the way.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley,' said Snape, in his quiet, silken voice, "I hope you're all friends over here."

"Yes Professor," said Malfoy, in a mocking imitation of Ron, getting to his feet with more grace than he had when he'd gone down.

"Well, how convenient for us all," Dumbledore said, giving Ron a wink. "Ron, if you'd wait for me to grab a bite of dinner, I daresay you'd like some dessert, and then we can retreat to my office?"

"Certainly, sir," Ron said, feeling his stomach tingle. He hadn't even done anything to Malfoy- surely the headmaster wasn't about to punish him? He felt suddenly ashamed, even though the professor was giving him a smile. It can't have been an especially noble sight- seeing Ron interrupt Malfoy's dinner by hauling him right out of his chair. Dumbledore surely wouldn't have approved, and Ron hated disappointing his benevolent headmaster. He felt deflated as he walked back to his seat, while Dumbledore and Snape moved on to the teacher's tale, talking quietly. Harry and Hermione had watched the whole thing.

"You didn't get in trouble, did you?"

"Dunno," said Ron, "Dumbledore wants to see me in his office after dinner."

Hermione's eyebrows raised in alarm. "Oh no! Oh, Ron, you don't think you'll get punished, do you?"

"I don't see why," said Harry, frowning, "Ron didn't do anything- except interrupt Malfoy's dinner."

"I'd like to interrupt Malfoy's breathing." Ron snarled, with more ferocity than he'd intended. The truth was, all the anger that had propelled him over to the Slytherin table a few moments before had left him, like a balloon expelling air. It was an unsatisfying, empty feeling.

What was happening to him? Lately it seemed like he could barely concentrate on anything except Hermione. Sometimes he felt like he had lost all his fight. He looked over at her and she smiled sadly at him. "You shouldn't have done that," she said softly, "not on my account."

"I'd do anything on your account," is what Ron wanted to say. Instead all could manage was, "Well…I did." She took his hand anyway, and entwined her fingers through his, very softly and very lovingly drawing each fingertip across the upper side of his hand. How he would have loved to forget everything then, all his worried, all his fears, all the trembling of his knees when she came into the same room he was in. It's all worth it, he convinced himself.

*

"It's starting to rain," Harry said gloomily, looking out the library window. "Oh well, summer's over again."

"Well, that tends to happen when autumn starts," Hermione agreed. "You sound awfully whimsical this evening."

"Oh, don't mind me," Harry said.

"Oh, I won't." Hermione said evenly. Harry raised his eyebrows and tried to look serious.

"As I was saying- don't mind me, I'm just a bit, you know…what's the adjective for think? Thinky?"

"Thoughtful," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know how you churn out such good Charms essays, you've such a pathetic vocabulary. Why, what've you got to think about?"

"Well, Ron, for one thing."

Hermione paused. Just the thing she'd been trying not to think about. "All right," was all she found she had to say. Harry looked up at her with alert green eyes.

"That's it? You don't have anything to add, like, "Gee Harry, I love him so much, I'm just constantly thinking of him"?"

Hermione smirked. "Nope."

"Good, I don't want to be sick all over my Divination homework." He paused. "I suppose it's nothing to worry about…."

"Most things are."

"Yes, but- don't you- I mean…I find it harsh that- well, Dumbledore put our names on the list for Head Boy and Girl and not his, and I do think he's a bit…hurt."

Hermione twiddled her quill, thoughtfully. She hadn't even considered that to be the source of Ron's rotten mood. It was plausible, of course, but… "Harry, Ron doesn't even want to be Head Boy."

"How do you know?" Harry challenged.

"I'm sure he would have said something," Hermione said dismissivley, though she knew it wasn't true. If Ron was indeed upset about his lack of nomination, of course he wasn't going to open his mouth and complain about it. He was far too proud to do that. "And if you're really worried, just ask him about it."

"I was hoping you would," said Harry flatly.

"Me? Why?" And in the split second that Harry's face showed and expression of shock, of disappointment, of bewilderment, Hermione knew. Of course she knew. As a girlfriend, she was expected to do that. To trundle around after Ron making sure he felt okay. To help him sort through his problems, to comfort and to care for him, to stroke his soft red hair and kiss his freckly nose and let him know that even if things didn't turn out okay, she'd be here for him, and that was what was important. When they had been just friends, she would have done that anyway, because she wanted to let Ron know, more than anything, that she cared. Despite all the fights and the tears and the silent sulks, she really did care about him- and she knew he cared about her.

Now she wasn't so sure. How could she explain to Harry? That every time she hugged or kissed or held hands with Ron she felt like he was desperate to pull away. She had known that things would be bashful at first- she had felt nothing less than terrified when they first embarked on their almost experimental relationship- but it was seven months now, for goodness' sake. Perhaps Ron had changed his mind, but was too afraid to tell her? (And, if that was indeed that case…would she mind all that much?)

"Harry," she started, slowly, "has he…said anything? About me? I mean," she said, noting Harry's raised eyebrows, "Did I put him in a bad mood?"

Now Harry looked startled. "Y'what?"

"Well- he's been in such a rotten mood for the pat few hours- was it my fault, d'you think?"

"What-?! Not at all! Hermione," Harry snorted, "you could no more put Ron in a bad mood than Malfoy could put him in a good mood."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise. Now, look," Harry said, smiling kindly, "he hasn't said anything to me actually, but you know Ron. He's not the most emotionally articulate person around- how's that for a vocabulary?- and let's face it, he's pretty sensitive." He looked troubled. "That's why I'm worried. He wouldn't tell us if he were upset by it, but he'd let us know another way."

"You're right," Hermione managed to say, even though she was thinking. No, that's not true, not anymore. Usually he comes to me when he's in a bad mood, so I can cheer him up. But she decided not to say anything because if she herself didn't understand, then Harry certainly wouldn't. Instead she faked a yawn and pleaded tiredness to avoid any more stick question.

It won't do to say anything about- or to- Ron, until I'm really sure what's happening, she decided, as she and Harry walked back to the common room. Maybe they weren't destined, as she had previously thought. maybe all they had was a mild attraction to each other which got confused with their volatile relationship into passion, into love. Maybe all they really had was a deep friendship.

But she knew that was wrong as well, as soon as she saw him when they walked back into the common room, because friends certainly didn't feel their heart beat faster when they looked at each other, and that was exactly what Hermione got when she spotted Ron. He was lying on the couch in front of the fire, reading, with a bag of Bertie Botts beans resting on his stomach and he smiled up at her as she approached.

"Aha, the return of the forgotten smile," Harry said, laughing as they reached him.

"Sorry?" said Ron. "Hi," he added, giving Hermione's shoulder a squeeze as she knelt down next to him. (Hermione wished that he would kiss her on the cheek, but she felt glad for his touch anyway.)

"You're in a much better mood," Harry observed, as he shoved Ron's legs out of the way and sat down on the couch. "You didn't get in trouble then?"

"No, not at all," Ron said, "Dumbledore didn't give a fig about Malfoy. What he called me in there to tell me was that I'm really close to being on the list for consideration for Head Boy."

"That's fantastic!" Hermione cried.

"Brilliant," Harry sighed in relief.

"All I've got to do to get on the list," Ron informed them, taking a handful of beans, "is to hand in a couple of good essays and make sure I set a good example for the younger students a bit more."

"Set an example?" Hermione said.

"Obviously a polite way of saying 'Don't break the bloody school rules this year'" Ron said with a grin at her. Hermione's heart felt a bit weak. Most of her fears seemed to fly out the window whenever he was around.

"That's so cool," Harry said, "But you know, now that we're in direct competition with each other, though, I don't expect we'll be able to stay friends."

"No, in fact, I think I'll rally support against you. Negative campaigning you know- works a charm. I'll tell the whole school about how bad your shoes smell after Quidditch."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"All right then, I'll tell everyone about that song you sing when you're in the shower."

"Everyone sings that song in the shower," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"I'll tell them how you sing it soprano."

Ron gasped in mock terror. "You bastard." He paused, then added, "I do not sing it in soprano." Harry just grinned and pinched Ron on the palm of the hand where it really hurts, and Ron made a squealing noise. "Right, git!" The bag of beans went flying as Ron leapt to his feet and proceeded to chase Harry all the way up to the boys dorms, nearly flattening Ginny on their way past.

"What're they like," said Ginny disgustedly, joining Hermione next to the fire. Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed, picking a few beans off her school jumper.

"Who knows? I'm just glad they didn't start playing the bean game again."

"What's the bean game?"

Hermione explained. 'What they do is try to fit as many beans in their mouth as they can-"

"- And then when their mouth is full they start singing the national anthem," Ginny finished for her. "He's been playing that one with Bill, Charlie, Fred and George for ages." She paused "Funny. I thought he'd grown out of it."

"Nope. He's still just as insane as ever," Hermione said. A little part of her felt warm when she said that, as though some delightful nostalgic music were playing. Ginny was looking at her.

"Yes, but…he's grown up a lot in the past year or so. Don't you think?"

"Yes," Hermione said, still collecting spilled beans. Ginny's gaze didn't waver. "Ginny, what is it?"

"I was just wondering…" she said, "whether you thought he had changed for the better?"

Hermione stared. She didn't even have an answer, she was so surprised. "What brought this on?" she asked, bewildered.

"Oh, nothing," said Ginny, colouring.

"No, Ginny- what?"

Ginny looked uncertain. "Hermione- please don't get cross- I don't mean this to offend you at all, but…"

"But?"

"Sometimes you talk about how things were before you and Ron were together like you miss it, I mean, you even call it "the good old days" and I'm just wondering whether or not you've made the right decision." It was obviously something she'd been sitting on for a while, for the words tumbled out in a graceless rush, leaving Ginny bright red in the face- and Hermione astounded.

She'd had no idea she was giving the impression that she preferred being Ron's friend to Ron's girlfriend. Yes, they'd had some good times, and yes, there'd always been a spark that left her feeling full of fizzy champagne from her head to her toes. But there was also horrible times when she would lie awake at night, thinking, analyzing, why did he do this, what did he think when I said that. And…and…

And nothing had changed.

She was still just as confused, and their relationship was still as volatile. The only difference was now that she couldn't let Ron know how she felt because she was already supposed to be feeling another way, which was, presumably, in love with him.

"Ginny…" Hermione said uncertainly. "I don't know what you're thinking. If I talk about the "good old days" fondly, it's not because I prefer them to now- it's just that I always enjoy the time I spend with Ron. It makes me happy to be with him." Which was true. She loved it when he was around- he was a pleasure to look at and a pleasure to be with.

Ginny looekd downcast. 'I know- of course! It's just…sometimes…"

"What?"

"he never says anything of course, but…sometimes he just looks so worried…" She took a deep breath. "And I think, maybe he should talk to Hermione. But he wouldn't, would he? Not if it was you who he was worried about. And I aked him about it, I said, "is anything wrong that I can help you with?" and he said "no, only one person can do that."

"he said that?" Hermione paused. It didn't sound likesoemthing Ron would say Especially lately- why on earth would he worry? Wasn't she trying to do everything a good girldfriend would do? She tired- he wouldn't let her. She decided to sieze the issue by the horns and go up to talk to him. She bade goodnight to Ginny and strode confidnetly up the stairs, ignoring the suggestive whoop from one of her (obviously, more immature) peers below. When she entered the dorm without knocking, Harry, who had just been sorting out his pyjamae top, yelped and dove into the bathroom. Ron was lying on his bed, reading again, facing the ceiling. He looked up qhen she entered and smiled, beckoning her over. "Off to bed?"

"Yeah," she yawned, "I'm exhausted."

"Sweet dreams," Ron said, stretching out his hand for hers. He then brought her hand to his mouth and gave it a dry peck, and then, without another word, turned back to his book. Hermione felt her stomach curl. What was she doing wrong? She considered just walking off and going to bed and not thinking any more of it- but Hermione's mind was far too analytical not to leave it unfinished. She sat down on the bed next to his legs and lay down on his torso, so that her chin rested on his chest. He looked down at her. "Hello."

"Hey. You going to stay up for a while longer?"

"Might," he shrugged, shifting Hermione's head. "Might not."

"You shouldn't stay up too late, you'll be tired for tomorrow."

"I know." He turned the page of his book. It seemed their conversation was over.

"Well…good night."

"Night."

Hermione paused. Then she leant up and kissed him softly. It wasn't very long, and when she broke away, Ron gave her a smile. "What was that for?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"You know why. Don't you?"

"Aw, Hermione," he said, blushing. "Thanks." He gave her a peck on the forehead and then turned back to his book.

Aw Hermione thanks?! Hermione thought incredulously. What…what on earth did I do to make him like this? She slipped out from underneath his arms and ran up to the dorms, not bothering to answer his following call of "G'night, sleep well!"

Sleep well? She hardly slept at all.