Disclaimer: I own squat.

A/N: Thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers! I just wanted to warn you that I've upped the rating and probably will continue to do so as this story progresses. Also, the setting (forgive me for not saying so sooner) takes place in August preceding Harry, Ron & Hermione's 7th year at Hogwarts.

Summary: Throughout the depths of this text I will attempt to bring to life the unusual relationship (or lack, thereof) between Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Something Wonderful

Since Ron was being such an oaf about the romance that was clearly budding between them, Hermione felt justified in poking fun and being mean. It perturbed her greatly that their relationship should not fall into its natural course, so she lowered herself to jokes about Loony Lovegood and all the rest. She did not encourage his colossal jealousy, though she never discouraged it either; when he got angry, she laughed; when he ignored her, she sulked. That's the way it had been for the past two years, and she was still fighting to maintain the upper hand.

Ron, on the other hand, was confused as ever at her spiteful outbursts and mocking laughter, which came more and more frequently these days. He was confused and vaguely annoyed. What did she expect, anyway, a declaration of his undying love for her? No, that couldn't be it, and if it were, she wouldn't get it. Not from him, not with the horribly superior attitude she'd taken to in recent months. Besides, there were others—others with thick Bulgarian accents and more talent than he, Ron Weasley, on the Quidditch pitch—who were satisfied to sit on her skirts all day long like fools. And he had neither the inclination nor the patience to join their ranks. However, his defenses crumbled, as always, when he saw her next and she favored him with the radiant smile, reserved only for him.

She flashed him this smile when he returned to the Burrow an hour later from the river. He had no real intention of going to the river, alone or otherwise, although his slip of tongue when he'd been caught spying on her left him little choice. But the incident was forgotten as he sunk into the old sofa beside her and assured himself that the roll of parchment she was writing on was, indeed, addressed to her parents.

He nudged her none-too-gently to acknowledge him, however, she narrowed her cat-like eyes and ignored him until she scratched her loopy signature at the bottom of the parchment.

"How was the river?" she asked, rolling up her letter.

"Wet," he mumbled, "Saw the Fawcett's—they were having a family reunion and they're related to some of the strangest Muggles—"

Ron gave Hermione a humorous and slightly exaggerated account of Sandy Fawcett's two drunk aunts dancing on the picnic tables, and went on to tell her about the Muggle boy he'd met with the headphones and Metallica cd. She laughed along with him, and only when he mentioned Luna Lovegood did the humor leave her face.

"Oh, I suppose she was throwing herself at you," Hermione remarked peevishly.

Ron smiled slightly. It was nice to feel wanted by a girl, no matter how dim she was. He was too late in mustering a perfunctory expression of disgust, however, for Hermione's sharp eyes missed nothing.

"She did!" Hermione exclaimed, slightly alarmed, for she saw that same smile on Harry when he kissed Cho last Christmas. "And she was probably telling you all sorts of silly, flattering things that stupid girls tell boys to get them to like them!"

Ron's eyes widened. Come to think of it, Luna had used a lot of flattery—but he believed her to be sincere about what she had said. And it was all true! He thought, indignantly, suddenly angry that Hermione would try to wound his ego for no reason. He was a damn good flyer, just as he was charming and funny and all those embarrassing things Luna had told him he was.

"She wasn't!" Ron fumed, doubly aggravated that she saw right through him and smiled like the cat that caught the mouse.

"She was."

He wished he could hit her. "SHE WASN'T!"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!"

Both Ron and Hermione turned toward the stairs upon which Ginny stood, her hands on her hips and her eyes flickering back and forth between them. As neither of them said anything, she continued, calmly, "Before you two start again, you should know that we're having company over and I won't have you embarrass me by yelling for all of Ottery St. Catchpole to hear!"

Hermione looked down, her cheeks tinged red. Ron asked, dumbly, "Who?"

It was Ginny's turn to blush, and she turned around and darted up the stairs, muttering darkly to herself.

Ron turned to face Hermione and repeated his question. She merely shrugged, and they called for a temporary truce, as Molly, Fred, George, and Harry apparated home to the Burrow.