Ron wasn't sure who came up with the idea in the first place, or even how any conversation had drifted in that direction. He doubted it was any of his own inspiration, however. He wouldn't come up with anything so stupid, could he? And yet he always had noticed some difficult in backing down from his own dares.

He leaned back from the thestral's boney neck into a rather precarious balance on the creature's back. As if in offense the thing turned to look at him, huge eyes blinking innocently. Like some puppy, he thought again.

"I think he wants you to pet him, Ron," Percy called, leading his own thestral over a fallen log.

Ron knew the lank mane could be used as reins, but the very idea of touching it sickened him—a rather strange feeling for a ghost. It had been bad enough when he was alive and unable to see thestrals; he think he preferred the ignorance of invisibility to having to see them. "I'm not petting him. He's not a pet."

"Maybe if you showed him some affection, he'd win for you."

"We've only raced twice. Your thestral is cheating."

Percy sent him one of his you're-a-moron looks. "It's a non-sentient animal. He can't cheat."

The thestral reached to nibble at Ron's fingers. With a yelp he yanked them back. "He's trying to eat me!"

"So my thestral is cheating and yours eats ghosts?"

"He can touch ghosts. Why can't he eat them?"

Percy snorted, but Ron noticed him giving his thestral the slightest of glances. "They're horses. That. . . happen to eat human flesh."

"Maybe we can feed them Malfoy."

"His poor teddy bear will be so sad without him," Percy said dryly. "So. . . are we going to race again."

Ron's thestral beat it's hoofs into the grass, releasing a fountain of dirt that sprayed unpleasantly through Ron's torso. "You'll cheat again."

"So now I'm the cheater?" A rare grin spread over his face. "Come on. You're just afraid you'll lose again."

"I'd beat you if you didn't cheat!" He did want to race again. Percy wasn't very athletic, and even physical skill had to figure somewhere into horse-riding. Without waiting for a reply he gingerly kicked the thestral into a trot and headed toward the clump of trees that had been designated the starting line. The course was a fairy simple one: around the lake, diagonally across the grounds, and into the air in a wide circle over the Quidditch field before returning to the trees. Luckily none of the living Quidditch players had ever witnessed a death.

"You'd beat me if your horse were faster." Percy lined his thestral with Ron's and gripped the mane tightly in his fists. "Well, then. Are we ready?"

With a grim smile Ron nodded. "Yes. Ready, set, go!"

The thestrals were off, pounding viciously at the ground as they darted toward the lake. The vibrations tore through Ron; to his amazement he wasn't used to that kind of motion. To actually touch something. . . it was suddenly an entirely new experience.

Percy was moving ahead. Again. He leaned into the thestral, arms now clutched around its neck. A little too professional, Ron thought with a smirk. Evidently Percy had watched professional jockeys and was imitating whatever odd quirk he could. The result was ridiculous. But it did seem to be working. The thestral's mane whipped at Ron's hands, again uncomfortably warm. Well, if it helped him win.. . . he slid his fingers through the course hair squeezed it. The horse snorted and skidded to a stop.

"No way!" Ron kicked again. Had he pulled the hair too tightly? That wasn't at all a problem; he immediately let it go. The thestral did nothing but slap its wings into the air, nearly knocking Ron off. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

In the distance he could hear Percy laughing. A laugh which quickly ended with a shout. So the fifty-foot rule was good for something.

"Come on, just go, I'll be nice!" Grimacing, Ron slid a hand down the scaly head. Slick. "Please?"

The thestral shook his hand away and broke into a run. In a flash they were past Percy, who was now forced to plead with the other thestral, and into a speedy curve around the lake, then across the grounds. Ron again wondered what anyone would think if they saw a racing thestral. Perhaps he should go visible again, just to make it more interesting.

And then it was into the air. Ron instinctively clutched the horse's neck. It wasn't right, it wasn't right. He had no desire to be in the air without a broom, even after yesterday's fun, and the prior two races had done nothing to change that. Forcing his eyes open, he stared down at into the school's open windows, where students milled about, oblivious to the thestral just above them. If only he had something to throw. . . the thought left him as the thestral, more used to the race than he was, pivoted toward the Quidditch field.

"Still want to switch games?" Percy had somehow managed to catch up.

"Cheater," Ron said. He forced himself to again stroke the thestral, and they dove right past a beater slamming a bludger towards an unsuspecting Seeker.

The Seeker, some younger Hufflepuff student Ron didn't know, was flying in small circles above the field, humming to herself.

He laughed. "She's gonna regret that. She should be paying attention."

"Look out!" Percy yelled.

"The girl?" She had absent-mindedly circled away, still humming the same off-key tune. "She'll be fine—"

The bludger struck Ron's thestral and ricocheted back into the beater. The thestral gave a piercing cry and shot straight up, wings beating furiously. Ron clung to it, screaming, barely aware of the astounded players whining about the invisible wall that had sprung up so suddenly.

"Let go, you idiot!"

But he couldn't let go. That would be the stupid thing to do. If he let go he'd fall and probably die. . . and a lot of ironic good that would do. And it was too late. The fifty-foot limit had been reached. Below Percy screamed as he was ripped into the air and dragged along like a fishing lure.

"Will you bloody let go?!"

Let go. Of course. He wouldn't fall, it was a bit late to worry about death, and technically he was still in the lead. But when he moved to release his hands, they wouldn't.

"Of all the—"

The thestral shrieked again as Ron was jerked back, strands of hair still twisted in his fists. It spun around like a giant black pinwheel, huge wings thrashing at Ron as he darted to avoid them. Then, with a final disgusted snort, it turned again and soared down into the woods, wings bouncing another bludger into the stunned crowd.

"Did Dumbledore put up an invisibility ceiling?" someone asked.

"Shouldn't somebody tell Madame Hooch?"

An invisible ceiling. Ron hovered just above them, head still spinning from the ride. Where did they come up with these things?

Someone with actual sense voiced Ron's thoughts. "It's not a ceiling. Didn't you see where the bludger hit?"

"Well, excuse me, but maybe all of us aren't up on our physics and geology."

"It's physics and geometry, you idiot!"

"Huh?"

"I mean, if you're talking about the angle that the ball hit the. . . whatever, it'd. . ."

"Oh, shut up."

It was like listening to Hermione. Holding his head, Ron made his way down to Percy, who had managed to climb back onto his own thestral.

"She's right," Percy said. "It would be geometry."

Ron stared at him, then shook his head. "You care?"

Percy sighed. "Well, they need something to talk about; they aren't going to finish their game."

"I think they'll get over their invisible wall idea."

"No." He pointed into the woods where the other thestral had thrown. "You weren't watching while you were flailing like a moron on the back of that thing, but your thestral kind of accidentally swallowed something in its panic."

Interrupting the geometry argument came an innocent question: "Hey, where'd the Snitch go?"

Hermione hurried through the halls, barely avoiding several violent collisions, the thick library book still clasped in her arms—had she even checked it out? She couldn't quite remember, so if she received some hex from Madame Pince. . . well, forget her. The old librarian wasn't going crazy.

But she had to be going crazy, and in some strange way she welcomed it. She had tried to lose herself in studying again, but the same thought kept coming back and hacking away at her resolve. For a time it had almost left, but then Professor Binns had strolled past, seemingly about to fall asleep from his own contagious boredom with only a greeting of an attempt at getting her name right, and it was back. Ghosts. But that was insane. Why would Ron come back as a ghost? She accepted that, but it was still morbidly entertaining to let doubt scurry just outside her thoughts. The impossible. And so it all came down to a serious question of her sanity.

"Hermione?"

She stopped. No one, during her mad scramble from the library, had bothered to address her by name.

Ginny stood back a little ways, next to an old suit of armor whistling the national anthem. She looked a little tired and pale, but no worse than lately. A night bag was slung over her shoulders. "Hermione, are you all right?"

All right? Hermione choked back the snapping reply that begged to come out. Of course she wasn't all right, and neither was Ginny, and they both should be perfectly aware of that. "I. . . yeah, I'm fine." She frowned. "Why?"

Ginny shrugged. "No reason. You just look like you swallowed a handful of pepper imps. Mm. Those sound good right now. I haven't eaten yet today."

"I thought you spent the night at home." Ginny's mother was a strict enforcer of breakfast.

"I did." She held up the night bag.

"Oh." So Hermione had missed the obvious.

"I just got back. I'm heading to the common room. Are you going there?"

"I. . . " She stared at the book in her arms. "I guess so. I'll walk with you."

Silently, the two girls started walking. It felt odd. Hermione knew she should say something, and she raked her mind for even a trivial topic, but nothing seemed appropriate. If nothing else, they had always been able to discuss boys. But that was far from right.

It wasn't until they passed a girl ghost with long silver hair just outside the common room that anything came to her. It wasn't appropriate, either, but she didn't think of that until the words had already flown from her mouth.

"Ginny, I think I saw your brother."

Ginny froze. "What?"

Well, now someone else thought she was insane. It was mildly comforting. Or not. She took a deep breath. "Back in the library. It was just for a second or two, but. . . .oh, I shouldn't be talking about this." She stared fearfully at Ginny.

Ginny stared back unblinkingly, then shook her head, red hair whipping over her face. "Okay, if this is a joke, it's not funny and I'm really surprised it's coming from you. If it's not, well, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're trying to say."

"I. . ." Her mind whirled. "I'm either insane, which I think is the truth, or Ron's haunting me."

The ghost floated past, singing loudly a Beatles song. Hermione and Ginny watched her go, wide-eyed.

"A ghost," Ginny said flatly. "You think Ron's a ghost."

"Not a ghost." It was pure insanity aloud. "He wouldn't be a ghost, he'd just be haunting—"

"Hermione, if he's haunting you, he's a ghost. I'm going with madness on your part, and I really don't want to hear this." Her voice cracked with the finals words, and she strode up the Fat Lady. "Golden snidget," she managed tearfully.

Hermione wanted to kick herself. Ginny had been holing up by herself for days and when she finally came out long enough to actually speak to someone Hermione had to toss her own delusions around. "Ginny. . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying things like this."

Ginny, who was half-through the portrait hole, took a deep breath and turned around. Her brown eyes were tinged with red. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you; I should be the one apologizing. I guess. . . " She wiped her eyes furiously and finished climbing through, Hermione right behind her. "I guess. . . I don't know."

"You wouldn't talk to anyone forever," Hermione said softly, throwing the book onto an armchair and curling up next to it. "I'm just thinking you might be doing better."

With a small shrug Ginny flopped into another chair. "I think I am. I'm not fainting anymore." She sighed. "That was embarrassing. I don't want people to think I was being this selfish loner, but. . . I really did want to be by myself. I thought it would be worse to go home."

"Was it?"

She shrugged again and sniffed. "To be honest, I don't think there was any difference. But I think it was better for Mum and Dad that I was there. I mean, Fred and George came, too." A faint smile came through. "Did you hear them talking about starting a mud fight yesterday? Wouldn't that have been fun?"

In spite of herself Hermione managed a laugh. "I think Ron might have appreciated that."

"It would have been some improvement." The tiny smile faded into a scowl.

"Ginny?"

Ginny shook her head, the scowl growing deeper. "It's. . . it's nothing. But Percy. . . ."

"Percy?" Hermione's heart skipped a beat. No one had even mentioned Percy for almost two years. . . .

"You think he would have at least come to his own brother's funeral." Ginny spoke rapidly, her words blurring into one another. "I mean, I didn't think he hated us that much. But Mum and Dad, they didn't know how to contact him or where he was or anything. But it was all over the papers, with the defeat of You-Know-Who, and I would have just thought. . ." She finished with a swear word.

"Oh . . ." Hermione wasn't sure what to say.

"It's okay," Ginny muttered. "It's not your fault he's such a stupid git. I don't care. I just wish he had been there at least for Mum. Showed some sign of maturity."

"Well. . . it's his own problem." His own problem indeed. What sort of person wouldn't go to their own brother's funeral? She suddenly felt the rage she knew Ginny must feel.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a long time. Two girl ghosts giggled softly in a dark corner of the room, lost in their own gossip.

"Maybe we should go back to the cemetery and start a mud fight," Ginny mused. "It'd make me feel better."

This time Hermione's laugh felt more real.

"What mud fight?" Harry stood nearby.

"Oh, just. . ." Hermione prepared to explain the story, but with simply a "bye" Ginny was on her feet and rushing to the girls' dormitories. Hermione stared after her, amazed. So. . . it was Harry.

Harry also watched her go, face expressionless. Then, with a sigh, he sat down in Ginny's chair. "She's still mad at me, huh?"

Hermione turned to him, almost surprised to see him there. "I don't know. . . I mean, she said she was feeling better; I actually got her to talk to me."

"She hates me." It was a statement, flat and cold.

"Harry, she doesn't hate you."

"She thinks I'm a murderer."

"Why would you kill Ron?" The words ripped from her throat, far louder than she intended. The gossiping ghosts in the corner went silent.

Harry gave a small shrug.

Head spinning, Hermione slunk back into the chair. "I don't know what's wrong with either of you." Who was she to throwing such accusations? She was the crazy one.

Harry didn't reply. He pulled out a set of gobstones and set them on the ground. "Wanna play?"

"Play?" Well, after seeing ghosts and experience insanity, she might as well. "I'd love to play."

"Okay." He carefully arranged the pieces, like he was afraid they'd break. "I keep feeling like I should be playing wizard's chess or something."

Wizard's chess. The one thing Ron could win. "You miss him."

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes flashing beneath his glasses. "Of course I miss him; he was my best friend. And you. . ." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm being a complete git lately."

"Harry, you've always been a git."

"Thanks."

"I guess. . . " She pulled a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "I guess it's been the three of us for years and now it's just the two of us. . . ."

They didn't notice as the ghosts snuck from the room.

Twenty minutes had passed, and the students were still unable to find the missing Snitch. Between the accusations that Geometry Boy had stolen it to prove a point about spheres or something and the theory that perhaps the invisible ceiling had absorbed it, it was a rather entertaining affair.

Ron and Percy relaxed over the stands, listening with amusement. The race had been left unfinished, what with the loss of one of the thestrals. Percy still dared to insist that he would have won. Ron didn't really care—thanks to the Bloody Baron he'd probably have plenty of more chances to prove himself. Besides, there was something much more interesting about a bunch of second year Quidditch wannabes arguing over a Snitch that was actually in the middle of some death horse's digestive track.

"Do you think there will be a fight soon?" Percy asked thoughtfully.

"Why? So you can go all prefect over them?" Ron said.

"Why would I do that. . .?" He frowned. "Well, they'd get in trouble for fighting from someone."

"And that someone could be you. Think about it. You could be the first dead prefect Hogwarts as ever had. Isn't that your dream?"

"Shut up."

Ron smiled. So he was still able to get to Percy. It was still so deliciously satisfying. "Oh, well. If they go into the woods later they'll probably find their precious Snitch."

"You're being disgusting."

"If it bothers you so much, go visible and tell them where it is."

Percy gazed at the players. "I think that might be a bit traumatizing for them."

"That's the idea." Actually, the thought of just going himself was a bit tempting. The last appearance of Ron. A chance to see just now much of a Hogwarts Quidditch legend he was. Or would the second years even know him?

"Ron!" Jillie and Cornelia flew towards them, both grinning widely.

Oh, no. "Where did you come from?"

"The common room," Jillie practically sang. "It's a bit of an emergency."

"Emergency?" Percy looked up, glasses nearly sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Cornelia choked back a laugh, nearly snorting. "Yes. But it concerns Ron. It's very important."

"Terribly so," Jillie said with a nod.

Ron stared at them. Emergency? What was that supposed to mean? For a moment panic washed through him. But. . . they were laughing. And laughing girls was never a good sign.

Cornelia was unable to conceal her laugh this time.

"Just come on," Jillie said, waving a hand barely visible beneath the oversized sleeve. Then she Vaporated, Cornelia just behind her.

Ron looked to Percy, hoping for an explanation.

"If it's an emergency. . . " Percy mused.

"But they were laughing. . . ."

Percy shrugged. "Don't ask me to explain girls."

"I think they're plotting something."

"In my experience it's worse if you don't go the first time."

"What experience have you had?" With a sigh Ron Vaporated to the Common Room.

He found himself near the ceiling, the near-empty common room beneath him, a few students scattered among the overstuffed armchairs. The first years were again running around in their bizarre game of tag.

Percy Vaporated next to him, irritation strong on his face. He looked around, frowning at the first years. "I don't see an emergency."

Jillie and Cornelia drifted past, laughing freely. Hopefully they were being invisible.

"Look down," Jillie said, pointing.

Ron followed her finger down to two students sitting on the ground between two chairs. It was Hermione and Harry. And he watched in horror as they leaned forward into a kiss.

(I feel evil.)

SHOUT-OUTS:

General Shout-Out to All: I'm very impressed. I put something in the last chapter that I worried might be too obvious, but no one seemed to mention it…. Teehee! Made me feel quite good about myself—in a non-selfish way. If anyone wants to be back in look… they can.

v-babe24: Dream had her cameo. See? Now we can do the rod n' reel! And here's the stupid chapter!!!! Grrr!! Kidding. I luv ya.

Hiss: Thanks for reading! Binnichan was one of my first inspirations that I had to stick in somewhere. And yeah, this probably will be a long story.

Kaitee: Heehee. I can't tell how Percy died. That's up to him! Thank-you so much for your comments!

Hydraspit: I forgive you. =)

Starsmiles: I'm not going to be mean to Ron just because he's a ghost. It'll all work out in the end, don't worry. Have you any inspiration for your story yet?

Meenyrocks: RHr is this best thing ever.

Nanda: Thank-you so much for your review! It was very helpful. And thanks most for being honest about the pacing. I have a lot of trouble with that, so thanks for that advice.

HiddenFlame42: Out of curiosity, what situation did you imagine her seeing him under?

Hydrangea777: Well, I'm actually studying to be a teacher, and I love the idea of mean teachers—though I don't plan to be one.

pIPPENpIRATE: Curse you! How dare you go to Florida without me?!

Loonygrl90: Wow, I made you cry?

Deranged black kitten of doom: May I say that I love your name? Yes, Ron will be visible more often. I noticed you also have a ghost story, and it's hysterical!

Crystal Lightening: Here's your cookie!

Duj: Ghosts on the grounds? Hmm….. I like that idea. We'll see.

Katryn-ciardi: Thank-you!

Just Curious: I despise sad endings. And your guesses… good ones! Just keep silent about them, please?

Rosepetal13: I'll try and get to more of your stories! I can't believe you just read the whole thing! Wow!

Magistrix mundi: Yes, Sirius will cameo. Thanks for being honest about the pacing. I shall work on that!

From the Silent Planet: Teehee. I hit the button at the wrong time constantly.

WildMustang: Thanks!

Severus's bane: Yes, he's a nutty teacher. And Ron will be stay visible longer.

LJ Fan: I'm going to try scaring you again later. I'm glad I'm really getting out so many emotions.

Midnight Dove: Hey, it's up to Percy to tell!

Hi I'm Crazy: Hermione might see Ron again….

Written in Stars: Technology is our friend! Because of technology, there will always be leaves between magnets and refridgerators!