Hermione scribbled vigorously on her parchment. Without looking up, she said to Ron, "You ought to be starting on your homework right now. We've got two essays due on Monday."

Ron sniffled a bit and coughed.

"Ron, don't snort at me. If you are in desperate need to tell me off, do it with words."

Before he could answer, he sneezed.

Hermione put down her quill and looked up at him. She peered at him closely and watched him blow his nose.

Ron noticed her eyes on him. "What?" he said thickly.

"Are you sick?" she asked.

"No!" he answered a little too quickly.

"Right. So you're blowing your nose because you're bored," Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"Leave me alone."

She reached out and pressed her hand against his forehead, "You're burning!"

"Ugh, get off!" Ron swatted her hand away. "I'm fine!" he paused, "Hermione! Look at the pixies! Look at them! See!" he pointed towards a random spot on the ground.

"Ron, you've got a fever and it's making you hallucinate!" Hermione shut her book and looked at him with a worried expression across her face. "You have to rest. You can't overwork yourself— Then again, you've never overworked yourself."

He mustered up all his energy to glare at her, "So are you gonna insult me or take care of me?"

Hermione blinked but managed to smile, "Thank you, Ron. I appreciate the fact that you actually trust me with your health."

He muttered incoherently and slumped over, obviously delirious with fever, "The pixies are dancing… they're dancing…"

Hermione sighed and pulled him up, slinging one of his arms around her shoulders, "Up you go. Let's go off to your room, shall we?"

"I'm not sick!" he insisted.

"Ronald, just a few minutes ago you admitted that you were sick."

"Did not."

"Yes, you did! You— I'm not going to have this argument," Hermione said briskly. "You need to go and have a lie down. And don't you dare say no. Or else I'll never help you with your homework again."

Ron opened his mouth but shut it immediately.

The pair stumbled up to the boys' dormitory and walked in seeing that no one else was present.

"Head feels funny…" Ron muttered. "Brain feels gone…"

Hermione pursed her lips, determined not to make a comment about what Ron said. Instead, she walked him over towards his bed, "Now lie down so I can take your temperature."

She pulled out a thermometer from inside her robes (she actually carries one around??) and stuck it in Ron's mouth, "Mmph!" he protested but kept quiet, afraid of her threat of no longer allowing him to copy her homework.

Hermione waited awhile before pulling out the thermometer. She looked at it with wide eyes, "103! Ron, this is bad!"

Underneath the flush of the fever, he was looking rather pale, "Am I going to die?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

Hermione restrained herself from chuckling, "Don't be silly. All you need is some rest and a little tending to. You'll get better in no time. And then you'll finally be able to finish your homework."

"I think I'd rather stay sick."

"Yes, that's what I thought."

Hermione had spent the whole day nursing Ron and tending to his every need. She felt rather sorry for him as he lay there looking sickly and his cheeks matched the color of his hair. She constantly made him drink water every few minutes that he had to wobble his way to the bathroom every so often. Soon after, she gave him some Muggle medicine that he eyed warily.

"Will those work?"

"Ronald, all Muggle things aren't lethal. Just swallow this pill."

"I can't chew it?" he looked at her, horrified.

Hermione was pushing it with the non-chewable Muggle pill, but she really crossed the line when she pulled out a textbook and began to read to him.

"As long as you're lying there, I might as well read you the lesson," she said. "You're learning and resting at the same time."

"Spare me, Hermione," Ron muttered. "I'm sick and helpless and I haven't got the strength to absorb all this wonderful textbook information."

"Well, apparently you've got the strength to make witty remarks," she said.

"Just for today…" he groaned and shut his eyes. "Don't make school your top priority."

She looked at him and frowned. He returned her frown with a sort of sad puppy-dog pout.

"Don't do that, Ron. It's sickening," she narrowed her eyes at him but shut the textbook anyway, "All right, you win. But once you get better, it's back to hitting the books."

"Literally hitting them."

"Ha, ha," Hermione said without much amusement. "You should really get your act together, Ron. Your performance in school could do some working on."

He looked at her, "I'm not horrible or anything."

"There's always room for improvement! You space out during classes and always do your homework last minute. It's such a bad habit and if you listen to what I'm saying, you'll thank me later on. And you should sort out your priorities—"

"Oh, yeah, I bet your precious Viktor Krum sorts out his priorities just fine," Ron said hastily.

"What are you talking about? How did Viktor make his way into this conversation?"

"And I do apologize greatly for not being able to level up to your dear Viktor's standards. I bet you wish he were here instead of—"

"Ronald Weasley! Will you shut up?" Hermione scowled. "I don't know why you have to be so random all the time!"

"I'm so incredibly sorry for being me," Ron snapped back at her. "Why can't you just be happy with what you've got?"

"Ron—"

"Let me talk, will you?" he sat up abruptly, "Look at me, Hermione! I'm right here!"

"I… see you."

Isn't that a good thing? Am I not enough for you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but found that no words would come out.

"I may not be the greatest Quidditch player… and I'm not that bright or mature either, I'll admit that. But it's all that makes me who I am," he took a deep breath and went on. "And you… well, you're bossy and too smart for your own good. You read horribly boring things that just make me want to die and I often do question your choice of hobbies. You're also a bit weird and you take pride at being a know-it-all, which may I tell you, is dreadfully annoying. And when you talk, I don't know if you've noticed, but you have this awfully snooty tone—"

"I get it, Ron!"

But I wouldn't change anything about you," Ron continued. "You're so perfect to me… Just everything about you, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him blankly and didn't answer him immediately. She began to blink a little and all of a sudden her eyes were filling with tears that she tried to fight back.

"Ah, bloody hell, I'm rambling. Just ignore me… I'm sick and delusional…"

The tears began to run down Hermione's cheeks.

"Oh… crap… I made you cry, didn't I?" Ron looked slightly frantic. "I didn't mean to— Oh my God— Um… I promise to never confess my love again if you stop crying! I'm sorry—"

"You silly, strange, little boy!" Hermione hiccupped and sniffed back tears. "I thought… that you…. Why did… I don't… understand… confused…"

"Isn't this a first?" Ron managed to smile, "Hermione at a loss for words."

She glared at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to poke fun."

Hermione wiped her face with the back of her hand and sniffed again, "I didn't mean to make you feel that you weren't enough for me," she calmed her trembling voice, "If anything else, I like you exactly how you are now. And I didn't mean to cry either. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just that… you made me feel so happy," she paused and looked up at him. "Will this be awkward?"

He shrugged, "It's never felt more natural."

She smiled and nodded, "Now that's done…" her cheeks turned into a slight shade of crimson, "What now?"

Ron looked at her, his trademark confusion spread throughout his face.

"Now what's the matter, Ron?"

"Nothing," he answered, his eyebrows drew together as if he were debating whether to do something or not, "It's just that… I might kiss you. But you might slap me or something."

"I'm not going to slap you," Hermione slowly shifted her eyes up towards him, "But you'll get me sick."

Ron smiled, "Then I'll just have to take care of you, won't I?"