For about ten minutes after Ginny left, Harry hardly moved a muscle. What was happening to him? His scar was hurting more than he could ever hope to explain, he was irritable, nay, angry, beyond reason, and he had a sudden yearning to be alone. Was Voldemort possessing him again? Should he write Dumbledore? After the story the headmaster had told him a month or so ago, he was much more, if not completely, confident in him.
Still, there was no evidence to say that Voldemort was once again making an attempt like last year. He wasn't having funny dreams; no hallucinations; and no fits. It was nothing. Dumbledore had so much to be worried about right now, especially the Ministry of Magic job. Though, to no one's surprise, he declined the job yet again, Amelia Bones was only a temporary substitute for one, and no permanent one had yet been selected.
He sat down on the grass, head in his hands. No, he thought to himself, there's nothing to worry Dumbledore about. Yet.
"Well, that's that, then," Ron said, throwing his quill down for the final time.
"Let me see," Hermione said, in her I'm-not-entirely-sure-I-believe-you voice. She marked a few places, and Ron groaned inwardly. Great. I work my arse off for three hours, and she still finds things I haven't done right!
"Make these corrections; then you are done," she said, seemingly reading his mind as she handed the Astronomy diagram back to him.
He did so, however carelessly, trying to ignore the tsk-ing Hermione made.
"So. What do we do now?" he asked, looking up at her hopefully.
She seemed to know exactly where he was going, and quashed these notions promptly with a searing look.
"Ron," she said, "I…I think I'm having second thoughts."
"What? Again?" Jesus, he thought, frustrated. How many "second thoughts" is she going to have? Are all girls like this?
"I couldn't stop thinking about it last night," she continued, looking anywhere but in his eyes. "I don't think I want to…do this. Look at everything that will be lost at it."
"What? What'll be lost?" There were, after all, only things to be gained in his opinion.
"Think, Ron! If anyone finds out, which you know they will, things will never be the same."
"And what's so wrong with that?"
"Ron, I'm talking about the negative consequences. I'll never be allowed to stay at The Burrow for the summer anymore, because people won't trust us. Remember what happened in fourth year? Your mum hated me for a while, just because of some stupid article Rita Skeeter wrote. Imagine if she knew I was actually a girlfriend, and to you!"
That was something Ron hadn't considered. "Hermione, she won't think that about you. She positively loves you!"
"But some parents wouldn't even let me stay the summer at your house, even if we were only friends! Don't you see, Ron? At our age, most people don't trust us with the opposite sex! And if this comes between that fragile trust I have with your family, Ron, I just couldn't stand it!"
She was really in tears now. Think, you bloke.
"Yes, Hermione, most parents wouldn't let us live under the same roof overnight," he said, trying to be soothing, but uncomfortably aware of what this conversation was really about. "But you already said it: my mother isn't most people. 'Even if' and 'if this happens'…Hermione, that's all you're thinking about! The What ifs. Now I'll say one. What if everything works out? What if we abandon this and it really was something, and we lose that? What would happen then?"
Hermione still had tearstains on her face, was still trying shamefacedly to hide it, but there was no water in her eyes now. "Ron, that was three."
"Who gives a damn?" he smiled at her, and was rewarded with a small one of hers. If you don't kiss her now, she'll start crying again, and you'll know exactly what Harry was talking about when he called kissing Cho "wet." He didn't give himself any more time to think.
Their kiss was not what it had been before. Once desperate, once gentle, this one was fierce and demanding: Demanding to know feelings were really returned, demanding subconscious power over each other, fiercely trying to hold on to the illusion that no one really would find out.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron said, after they had held each other awhile. "Don't you think we ought to take this risk? We can't be thinking about other people all the time, you know. We have to think about ourselves once in awhile, too."
"I hate to admit it," she said, a smile playing around her mouth, "but I guess, at least this time, you're right."
She snuggled up close to him (they were now sitting on the floor) and laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms about her waist, revelling in the feel of her against his chest. Hermione's hair tickled Ron's nose a bit, but he simply didn't want to move.