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Disclaimer : You know the drill… Don't own the characters etc…

Chapter 1 : Down for the Count

"Just talk to him."

"No"

"You know this is stupid"

"I know that he's stupid"

"Oh come on… please," Harry looked at her with those puppy-dog eyes and she gave in. She didn't know why, it wasn't that she liked Harry more than a friend, but every time he looked at her with those big greens she always gave in.

"Fine," Hermione reluctantly said through gritted teeth, "but if he asks me one more time if I'm going to be sending a Valentine to anyone I'm going to hex him."

Harry grinned mischievously. His two best friends were always at each others throats about one thing or another. It was quite amusing some days to count how many arguments they had – so far the highest count had been 15 – 16 if you count the squabble they managed to hold in the middle of potions with only their eyes.

Hermione raised herself elegantly from her chair and glided over to where Ron was sitting cross-legged staring defiantly into the fire with his arms crossed. Ron caught a glimpse of something shining like a diamond in the corner of his eye, and looked up to see Hermione's newly polished Head Girl badge lit by the embers of the glowing fire.

Ron, over the initial shock of seeing Hermione approach him so soon after their argument, looked over in Harry's direction to see him waving at him and mouthing the words, "say you're sorry".

"No," Ron let slip.

"Pardon," said the ever polite Hermione.

"Not you Harry," Ron said indicating where to where Harry was seated.

Hermione turned around to see Harry hugging himself tenderly and making kissing noises. She suddenly turned a deep shade of pink. Firstly she was angry at Harry – as the only other person but Ron that she trusted she had confided her feelings to him, told him about how she often had dreams about being swept of her feet by Ron on his broomstick, flying them high over the clouds and kissing her tenderly… before being forced to wake up. How could Harry just parade her feelings like that around the common room, and worst of all letting Ron see! Secondly the look on Ron's face made Hermione feel even worse, because from just one look – she could see that Ron didn't feel the same way. He had a look of deep disgust etched all over his face. Hermione suddenly felt very sick…

Ron couldn't believe Harry sometimes. Ron had never told Harry about his feelings for Hermione – they had never been all that serious anyway, and he knew nothing would ever come of them – so why speak about them. But even so, Harry seemed to have an uncanny way of being able to read Ron's thoughts and had been teasing him like this every so often since sixth year. It made Ron disgusted that Harry let Hermione see this – it was one thing Harry knowing, it was a whole other story if Hermione ever found out…

Ron's look of disgust rapidly changed to concern as he tore his gaze away from Harry's direction and looked to Hermione to find her looking as though she had drunk Bubotuber pus. "Oh my god, Hermione. What's wrong?" He stood abruptly and stretched out his hand and felt her forehead, "You're boiling hot. Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing." He put a comforting arm around her shoulder and started to direct her towards the portrait hole when unexpectedly Hermione's whole weight collapsed in his arms.

It was so sudden that Ron found himself on the floor also managing just in time to catch her head from hitting the stone floor. As he sat there protectively cradling her in his arms he pushed aside a lock of her bushy brown hair from her eyes and felt that familiar feeling rising in his stomach. "Seventh year," he said aloud, though not meaning to, "is gonna be even harder than sixth."

Unbeknown to Ron and the collapsed Hermione, Harry sat still in his corner of the common room tucking his wand back into his robes thinking, "Not if I can help it…"