Harry didn't speak to Ron at all that night, or at dawn when they both arose early to practise Quidditch. He zoomed away on his Cleansweep 9 before Harry could talk to him, thereby confirming Harry's suspicions that Ron was keeping the relationship between him and Hermione from him. Harry was burning with questions to ask Ron; at least, that was what he told himself. If he was completely honest, however, he would love the chance to fight with Ron, to expel all his jealousy that Ron was so lucky and he was not. True, he got a lot of attention from the wizarding world, but Ron was welcome to it, if he wanted it. What was Ron the one who got everything, and he, Harry, had not loving family nor a full heart? After all, his heart had been broken by Cho.
Hermione avoided Ron all morning, though Ginny gave her strange looks for it. She holed herself up in her room, reading her books for the next term, writing essays, and generally isolating herself from the Weasleys and Harry.
How would Harry react when he learned about Ron and her being together? Given his unpredictable temper, he would probably be furious at them. Lose it completely. Did she really need that? No, but all the same, Harry deserved to know.
But wasn't she getting to be a bit faster than events that gave her cause? After all, she hadn't discussed anything with Ron. Maybe he had been insane, or at least thought he had been, to kiss her at all. She had certainly been mad to do something like that uninvited, hadn't she?
Oh, the agonies of it! She thought, burying her face into a pillow (the parchment crinkling as she did so; damn! My essays won't be so neat!). Why couldn't Ron come in and discuss this whole thing with her? She was so bloody confused about…everything. Harry, him, her, Ron and her…
God, she hadn't really thought about that. Ron and she could possibly end up a couple. The thought was almost inconceivable; it seemed so strange. Of course, she had to admit to herself that she had liked Ron from the moment she'd met him. Yes, ever since she met him and Harry in that compartment, trying to do that ridiculous spell to turn Peter Pettigrew yellow, she'd liked every bit of him; from the smudge on his nose to his red hair to his freckles. Everything.
A shout wrenched her out of her reverie.
"Bloody fucking CAT!"
It was Ron. Obviously Crookshanks had done something to him. Again. How could this be? One minute, she absolutely loved him, the next, she couldn't tolerate the sound of his voice. Oh, but that wasn't true, not really. She was simply trying to distract herself from her feelings, because they made her feel ashamed.
There was a knock on her door just then, and she jumped.
"Hermione?"
It was Ron, flown in, apparently, from Quidditch, his hair mussed, his nose red, and his eyes looking concerned. He was beautiful.