Unanswered Questions

"Come on, let's go down to dinner, or you and I both know Mum will get suspicious."

"Yeah," she replied. "What's she making?"

"Pot roast," he answered.

She followed him out of the room, and he let go of her hand. "We don't want Mum finding out," he explained in an undertone as they came nearer the first floor landing. "You remember what George said."

Her hand felt oddly empty without his in it, but she knew the value of discretion.

"Where have you been all day, Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley demanded of her as the two of them came in.

"Doing homework," she answered smoothly.

"Have you done your homework, Ron?"

"Erm…" he shot a look at Hermione.

"You'd better get a move on, especially as you got such few O.W.L.s. If you don't start studying more, you'll never work for the Ministry or even get a decent job."

Ron avoided pointing out that Fred and George had managed to get a decent business on its feet with only three O.W.L.s apiece, because his mother did not look like she was in the mood for argument. Damn, he thought, why does Hermione have to get my mother going off on that? He shot her a look to kill this time.

"Oh, all right," Hermione said with a sigh, responding to the unspoken message, "I'll help you."

He smiled, a bit foolishly, Hermione had to admit.

It'll give us an excuse to be alone, he thought, his face lighting up. Harry must have noticed, because he scowled at him. Ron pretended he hadn't seen.

"That's very kind of you, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said approvingly.

"May I be excused?" Harry asked with a note of sullenness Mrs. Weasley didn't catch.

"Of course, dear. Hard day?"

"Yes," he replied shortly, before turning his back coldly on Ron and Hermione, taking his dishes to the sink, and rinsing them before setting them aside for Mrs. Weasley to wash later. He stalked out of the room without a backward glance at anybody.

Ron looked at Hermione in complete exasperation. His eyes held a look that said, don't bother him right now.

It was undoubtedly a shock for him, and Hermione didn't begrudge him his jealousy. Still, it wasn't going to help the situation in any way.

A hand clutched hers under the table; Ron's, warm and solid around her own.

"He'll come round," he assured her, his voice soft enough to avoid anyone's ear but her own. We should probably tread carefully for a while. He's had a hard time of it. Not," he added, seeing her downcast expression, "That I intend to avoid you." She could have sworn he winked at her.

"All right," she said loudly, "If you haven't started on your homework, Ron, you'd better start it now."

"No, Ron, the Heartshead potion requires ginger root, not hellebore," Hermione said in a slightly frustrated tone.

"Oh. Sorry," he muttered, scratching it out and writing ginger root instead. "So. That's done." He squeezed her hand suggestively.

"No, Ron, not here," she said anxiously, eyes darting to and fro as though expecting an invasion. "Your mother is downstairs. She'd hear, you know she would. Now is not the time."

He let out a groan of frustration. If now wasn't the time for a snog, when was a good time? Girls.

"It's so stuffy in here." Hermione stretched. "Mind if I open a window?"

It was an excuse, and they both knew it. An excuse to get away from the uncomfortable moment, to prolong the uncomfortable silence, but still, to avoid it.

She pushed up the sash of the window, and a delightful breeze blew in, tossing her hair out behind her. Ron stared a bit, admiring her profile. She looked…there was only one way to say it…majestic.

Hermione turned and walked back, Ron quickly averting his glance.

"So, what next?"

"Transfiguration."

Ugh. Back to homework; the distraction was gone. And we won't be snogging at all, Ron thought miserably. Hermione was so frustrating sometimes. But then again, she probably thought the same of him.

Ginny sat in her room, miserably glaring out at the beaming sunshine. What right had the day to be so sunny? It certainly didn't match her own mood.

It was Harry. What was wrong with him lately? He'd been so angry. And yesterday he'd been so amiable. What prompted his major mood swing?

She couldn't fathom the inner workings of his mind, and she knew that. Still, it remained such a curiosity to her that she got up and strode to her door, deliberating momentarily if she really should talk to him, or whether he was better left alone. Determination overcame her, however, and she swung open the door with such force that she didn't even have to pull it shut; it simply slammed behind her.

She bumped into him outside, after she'd checked Ron's room and found only Ron and Hermione studying, Ron complaining all the while, as usual. He was staring out over the lake, arms crossed, and eyes unseeing.

Ginny came up behind him, and he flinched when she put a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Harry? You haven't been…right…lately."

He didn't look at her. "Ginny, I think I need to be alone at the moment."

"You've been alone practically all yesterday and today," she pointed out. "Is it him? Is he –?"

"No, it's not Voldemort," He sighed and turned slowly to face her. "To be honest, it's…Ron. And Hermione."

"Yes, I've seen you looking daggers at each other since yesterday. Didn't you and Hermione have a fight or something? I dunno, it's just usually Ron who rows with her."

Harry felt a bit of colour rise in his cheeks. "Yeah," he said, looking at the ground, and suddenly ashamed of himself. "We did."

"Over what?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Gin," he sighed again. No, he thought, I don't want to admit to myself how much of a sot I've been lately. Least of all to you. What would you think of me? "It's a bit…personal."

Ginny thought best just to leave him at that point.