A/n: I wasn't exactly overjoyed by the feedback I got on the last chapter, but it's all right, it's a new story, and it'll take some time for it to settle in. I hope. This chapter is pretty straightforward, some interesting new stuff going on, and a bit of the nice R/Hr fluff we all love. It's actually scary, how dark it's turning out to be. But then, we must not think too much on that...unless it's a plot point...you never know...All right, I'm wasting your time, just read.

Disclaimer: Don't own this...if I did, I might abuse my right to love Ron...which I already do so ::shrugs:::

NO SAFE HAVEN

Chapter 2: Memories and Musings

The door of the portrait hole slammed shut. Hermione had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was extremely late, judging by the tiny house-elf that was putting out the fire, leaving the common room feeling more frigid than ever.

Ron looked at the house-elf in disappointment. "Hey, mate, we were going to need that fire. You mind, er, rekindling it for us?"

"Ron!" Hermione glared at him sharply. She marched over to the house-elf and said, "It's all right, you don't need to listen to narrow-minded Gryffindors who have no interest in others' well being. You can leave the fire as it is. If we rekindle it, I'll put it out." She glanced over her shoulder and shot Ron another nasty glare, which he responded to with a scowl.

The house-elf watched Hermione with it's large brown eyes, which were filling up with tears. "Young mistress is kind. Old Frodil will do so for her if she wishes. Frodil does not mind working if it pleases masters."

Ron muttered under his breath as Hermione shook her head. "No, Frodil, you shouldn't have to be forced into slave labor. If you just asked for a bit of pay for your job, you could continue doing it and—"

"Hermione, it's late. If we're going to talk to Neville, we better do it now because I'm way too bloody tired to put up with spew work." Ron didn't care if he was being rude. He was being honest when he said he was weary; he could barely keep the sleep out of his eyes. "Thanks, Frodil, good-bye," he said. The little elf nodded and scurried out of the common room, the door shutting lightly behind him.

When Hermione straightened up, Ron knew he was in for a lecture. She pulled out her wand, pointed it at the fireplace, and brusquely muttered, "Fembergo!" A jolly fire sprung onto the smoking logs and the common room was filled with light once more. Ron was relieved that Hermione had chosen to avoid an argument, until she strode up to where he was standing. She must have stepped closer to him than she had intended because she immediately stepped back and the fire in her eyes extinguished somewhat.

"Ron, you are an inconsiderate prat. Do you have any idea how foul you were being? Honestly, the way you treated that elf...you shouldn't even be a part of S.P.E.W.!" Hermione said shrilly.

Her friend merely sneered at her. He opened his mouth to retort—he might as well tell her that if it were up to him he would have never been a part of her elf-liberation rant—but he quickly closed it. As much as he loved arguing with her, saying something of that manner would greatly hurt her—and he'd rather avoid succeeding in that area after so long. So instead he just waved a hand in her face and turned back to Neville.

"Okay. You mind telling us what the hell you were doing out there?" he said, the anger in his voice making it all too apparent that he was ticked off with Hermione.

She noticed, because she shoved him aside and said, "Neville, what were you up to? And why at night? You know how much Filch hates students who are out of bed so late at night. Why not wait until day to...do whatever you were doing?"

The round-faced boy sighed. "You don't get it, Hermione. I can't do it when everyone's watching. This is...different. And it's not like anyone thinks I'd be any good, anyway."

Hermione shook her head. "That's not true. Just—just start from the beginning."

Neville took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I can't."

The bushy-haired girl blinked. Ron gave a soft snort. He knew Hermione wouldn't be pleased to find herself in a situation of this sort—when someone actually refused to give her what she demanded. He was absolutely positive that she would not give in too easily. "Neville...you told me you would explain up here. Unless you want me to give you a detention, then I suggest you divulge the information."

Neville shook his head. "I told you, I can't. Look, the point is that this is important. Much too important to be telling anyone. And, don't get me wrong, Hermione, you're not just anyone, but I'd prefer to keep this to myself...even if detention is the consequence for it."

Hermione looked livid but she apparently was holding back; she wasn't about to be harsh with Neville. "You can trust us, you know that. We won't even tell Harry, if you don't want us to. Just tell us, Neville."

"He's not going to, Hermione, you might as well quit trying," Ron muttered.

She turned sharply. "I don't think I asked your opinion on this," she said hotly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Get over the elf thing. Honestly, Hermione, your temper—"

"Save it, Ron, I don't care." She turned back to Neville, who was wincing slightly. She looked concerned for a moment, but quickly returned to the matter at hand. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

pov shift

Neville was quite still as he watched Hermione interrogating him. Within, he was quivering with fright. Hermione was very persuasive; if she didn't drop the subject, he would not be able to resist telling her.

And that was something he most certainly did not want to do.

Nobody knew. Nobody should know. Nobody cared, anyway. He owed nothing to anyone, so he need not tell them about his ambitious project. Nobody would force him to give in detail what he proposed to do, ever since he had found his own wand. And so nobody would know. That was the way it should and would stay.

His reasons couldn't be more evident. The only matter stopping them from unraveling his secret was that they were too blunt when it came to his emotions. They never really expected him to feel more than fear, at Snape and everything concerning school, or self-pity, for obvious reasons. If they'd ever noticed any deeper feelings residing within him, they had quickly forgotten.

But he couldn't forget.

They didn't know what it was like to grow up watching their parents sit alongside them, staring with a blank expression that all too clearly demonstrated no recognition of them whatsoever. No...both of the people—his friends, at times—standing before him had their parents by their side, and he suddenly felt the urge to shake them and make them promise to never take them for granted. They didn't understand that he'd never been tucked into bed by his own mother and never sat on the lap of his own father. They knew, of course, the current state of his parents. They had been shocked, and although they did not express it, they felt pity for him. He'd seen it written on their features that day at St. Mungo's. Hermione had seemed about to hug him and Ron had given him a rather brotherly look. But it was all pity, nevermind what form it was in, pure and utter pity.

The kind of pity that had followed him all his life.

He found his mind straying to the night when his parents had been tortured. He couldn't remember it; he was much too young to recall any of it. But at times, a door unlocked deep within his subconscious and he'd be hit with a scene of dark times. Sometimes he saw his mother, twitching and writhing on the floor, a jet of light flowing from her twisted body to the wand of a masked, cloaked figure. Who else should it be but Bellatrix Lestrange. Other times, he'd see his father in much the same manner he saw his mother, but he could hear his piercing screams of pain and distress, his anguish chilling him to the very bone.

But other times, like this night, he found himself dwelling upon another memory altogether, nothing he'd ever been told about. It was inexplicable, yet he knew the scene, although it felt like a book that has been pushed back, wedged in the unreachable regions of a bookshelf that was his mind. This memory was something new to him but that at the same time, he recalled it, almost vividly. He saw darkness, all above him, but also long pallid fingers gripping a rather long wand. He saw no more than that, but what he heard...it was awful. A shrieking cry, helpless and abandoned, that he couldn't help knowing was a baby's sobbing. And then there was the cruel, malicious laugh, high and cold, followed by words, a spell, uttered by a strange, snakelike voice that made his very soul quiver. Then he was hit by a blinding green light, and after that he could remember nothing.

However, it was when he evoked this memory that his head would hurt terribly and his very brain would feel numb. It only happened for a few seconds, but the fact that he could not understand it was what terrified him.

It had been occurring recently, more frequent than ever after the night in June that he had spent with the others at the Department of Mysteries, the night when he had been mesmerized by the figure emerging from the broken prophecy, the night when he had strained to hear what it was that the little glass sphere contained that was so important to the Death Eaters.

It was the night when he had seen Bellatrix Lestrange.

He knew who she was, and it was not because of the Daily Prophet. No, she was part of those haunting memories. Even worse, she was the cause of them all. Seeing her had stirred something inside him that he disliked, because he had a feeling it was hatred. Looking at the heavy-lidded eyes had given him determination to do what he had been doing.

He hated having to see his parents being tortured. Every time he looked at his mother's face at St. Mungo's, his mind flashed a picture of the night of her torture. He hated it. And he didn't want it to happen again. That was the only reason he was doing what he had set out to do this year. He was going to make sure that he knew how to defend the people he loved, whatever the cost. He would learn any self-defense necessary to prevent another heavy memory of Bellatrix wreaking havoc.

As Hermione and Ron bickered, he thought of that one peculiar memory, the one that showed not his parents nor Death Eaters, just the hand and the laugh of its owner. And as he did, the familiar pain shot through his head. He winced just as Hermione turned back to him. He hopped she wouldn't question his sudden pain. Luckily, she didn't, and instead asked, "Are you going to tell me or not?"

He gave her his most apologetic look and murmured, "No."

Hermione sighed heavily. Neville would not budge. He refused to tell her. It annoyed her, and so she couldn't help shooting a cold look at Ron. He seemed unaffected by it, but his blue eyes weren't in any way friendly. They were icy, like they became when she insulted him. Shaking thoughts of Ron out of her head, she looked at Neville once more and said, "Very well. I suppose there's nothing I can do to convince you to do otherwise."

"No, I can't tell anyone. I'm sorry," Neville said softly. He was being sincere. That was the only reason Hermione gave him a weak, sympathetic smile and nodded. He hesitated before asking, "Are you—are you going to give me a detention?"

Hermione knew she wouldn't, but she looked at Ron for advice nonetheless. His expression remained distant as he said, "Nah, it's all right, Neville. You should get some sleep. It's late. Besides, I really am tired." He yawned and gave Neville a reassuring smile. "Go on, mate. I'll be up in a bit." He glanced at Hermione briefly but did not hold her gaze.

Neville looked relieved. He gave both prefects a grateful nod and hurried up the stairs, to the Sixth Year Boy's dormitory.

Both aforementioned prefects had been still as their friend disappeared into his dorm. But the minute he closed the door, Ron turned away at the very instant Hermione said, "Ron..."

He thrust his hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his wand. Without glancing at Hermione, he pointed the wand at the fire and said, "Nox." The fire quickly grew smaller and finally died, casting them both in darkness.

Ron didn't move. Hermione wasn't even sure he was breathing until he said, "I don't understand you. What is the point of arguing with me so damn much?"

"Language, Ron," she murmured.

He turned around, glowering. "I'd rather not fight with you so much. I thought we'd gotten out of that stupid phase."

"Ron, we bicker! It's normal!"

He scowled, "Yeah, well, there's a difference between bickering and making me feel like crap. But I'm not sure you have sense of that difference." He swiftly took his prefect badge off his robes, so hastily that he managed to form a tear where the badge had been moments before. "Bloody hell..." he muttered, stuffing the little badge into his pocket.

Hermione bit her lip. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She couldn't quite understand why she had been so angry with him. So instead of answering him, she walked over to where he stood picking at the rip in his robes. She gently patted his hand away, pointed her wand at the slit and said, "Reparo." In the darkness, she saw the threads lace together and mend the tear. Ron had been watching her intently; she could sense his eyes on her. When she looked up, they were back to the regular, playful blue color that they normally were, and she gave him a small smile. "Thanks," he said.

She shrugged and took a step back. "Everything's easier with magic, isn't it?" Nice small talk.

He imitated her shrug. "I s'pose. I really couldn't tell you. I don't know what it's like without magic, really." He gave her a half-smile. "How'd you ever get along without the wizarding world? And Chocolate Frogs, for that matter..."

She laughed. "I managed. But I've been doing quite well here, don't you think?"

Fixing her with a mock inspecting stare, he said, "Well, if it hadn't been for the know-it-all-ism and the dirt comment on the Hogwarts Express, I suspect I would have been quite taken with you in first year. But, you messed up, Granger." He sniggered. "You've definitely improved since then."

"Yes, you just say that because you benefit from the annual candy for Christmas and your birthday that you receive from me. And besides," she put her hand to his nose and rubbed it, pretending to wipe something off it, "I don't think I'm all that different from the ten year old you met on the train."

Ron caught her hand and said, "Don't toy with me, you don't know the limits of my temper." They both laughed; they knew perfectly well how to push each other's buttons.

Hermione bit her lip as warmth spread where his fingers held her wrist. She reluctantly brought it down, removing Ron's fingers from her skin. She gave him a cheerful smile and said, "Quite a night, no? I'm pretty tired."

"Yeah," he said, absently adjusting the badge on her robes. "And I think Crookshanks is pretty pissed off at you for leaving him stuck in here." He nodded towards the ginger cat prowling under the window of the common room, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Hermione chuckled and said, "Come here, Crookshanks." The cat gave her a rather resentful look and walked over to Ron, then started rubbing himself against his legs. Ron gave a surprised laugh and said, "Well, Miss Granger, I think your pet would rather hang out with the ever popular Weasley tonight."

Crookshanks leapt lightly onto Ron's arms when he bent down to pick him up. If he could have laughed, he would have. Hermione looked somewhere between indignant and surprised as Ron gave her a satisfied smirk that matched the cat's. Crookshanks watched his mistress roll her eyes.

"All right, Weasley, keep my cat for tonight. I shall take..." She seemed to be racking her brains for something to take from him. "...your badge for the time being, until you see fit to return my cat." She put her hand in the pocket of his robes and retrieved the badge. She grinned and patted Crookshanks on the head.

"Good-night, Hermy," Ron said, taunting her with the ridiculous nickname.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Good-night, Ronniekins." She turned to leave but Crookshanks anticipated she had one thing left to do. Sure enough, she presently returned to Ron, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek innocently. Crookshanks caught the glimmer in her eye as Ron stood, looking surprised and delighted. Hermione didn't give him a chance to say anything before she walked away, up the stairs, and disappeared into her dorm.

Ron grinned at Crookshanks. "She's something else, Crookshanks. You and I both know her pretty well, don't we?" The kneazle gave him a confirming purr that he wished could convey how ridiculous he found the boy for talking to an animal that could not respond. Ron laughed and went up the stairs that Neville had ascended a few minutes before.

Crookshanks rested sleepily against Ron's chest. Yes, things had certainly changed. He was positive his master had not cared as much about the redhead when they first met.

END POV

"Checkmate." Ron flashed her a triumphant grin. His queen glanced at him before grabbing Hermione's king's arm and pulling him off the chessboard. Hermione watched her king with a slight scowl on her face.

"I never will understand your fondness for this particular game," she said, putting her hand over her mouth when she failed to stifle a yawn. "Besides, I only lost because I'm tired. And that's all thanks to you."

"No, you lost because your chess skills are rubbish and, aside from that, I am the one and only Master of Chess," Ron said, puffing out his chest in pride'

"Ron, you are such a nerd," Ginny said, hiding a smile. Harry grinned at her side. "She's right, you know." Ron opened his mouth, already picking out a choice of colorful words, but Hermione shot him a knowing glare and he closed it. He settled for chucking his knight at Ginny's head instead.

When it hit, Ginny rubbed the spot on her forehead and glared at Harry. "Thanks for trying to stop that from hitting me," she said bitterly. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

It wasn't much of a difference. Too subtle to notice, everyone at Hogwarts had stayed in belief that Harry and Ginny were having a budding romance. Hermione, however, noted otherwise. There was something slightly different about their relationship. During the summer, they had, of course, been very close. After Bill's death, Ginny had distanced herself from Harry slightly, and like Ron, had spent a large amount of time alone. But after about three weeks, she had returned to being inseparable from Harry. They'd proceeded to snog constantly in public, much to Ron's chagrin. He had not problem with Harry and Ginny's relationship, but it did sicken him to see them snogging. Lately, however, they'd avoid much contact in front of the rest of the students of the school. They resorted to short, simple kissing instead. Hermione didn't make much of it, and when she told Ron about it, he doubted that was relevant. Hermione suspected it might be true, as all couples went through troubled times. Not that she knew from experience or anything

She certainly hoped this was only a phase. Having Ginny was a blessing to Harry; it lifted some of the burdens that he'd been carrying. She didn't want that to be taken away. She knew that, if it should come to a break-up between the two, they would remain friends, but there was a difference.

When it came to Voldemort, they'd had no news recently. No attacks, no deaths, no mysterious occurrences. Nothing. It was almost intimidating, how little he was doing. But she knew he was biding his time. With Fudge being backed up by countless supporters, more than half the wizarding world believed that Voldemort (or, as he called him, "Lord Thingy") was "backing down," that he knew he couldn't stand a chance against the "strong forces of the Ministry of Magic." Hermione didn't like the way the people around her were being blinded. Fudge's power was increasing, and with it, the gullibility of the wizarding world. She knew that she shouldn't be surprised if the dementors left to guard Azkaban went astray soon.

Dumbledore was taking it the hardest. Hermione had noticed that the professor missed half the meals at the Great Hall. When he did attend, he seemed weary and lost in thought. Fudge's control over the wizarding world and the Ministry was affecting many people's views of Dumbledore. Now all of Slytherin house and their parents refused to accept Dumbledore, and some of the students in the other houses doubted their Headmaster as well. The situation was dire and bleak.

Some of the Ministry members that had been fired had been able to find jobs once more; Nymphadora Tonks was working as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. But others, like Mr. Weasley, weren't so fortunate. Hermione was upset to see the Weasleys struggling, with only money sent by Fred and George and Charlie to cover their expenses. Aside from dealing with his son's death, Mr. Weasley was taking on a heavy load, and both he and his wife were slightly depressed. It broke Hermione's heart.

She snapped out of her reverie when Harry shoved Ginny gently and said, "Oh, please, Gin. I very much doubted Ron's aim, so I really didn't try 'cause I didn't think it would hit you." He gave her a smile and his green eyes twinkled.

"Right, Potter," Ginny said, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Resorting to surnames, now are we?" said a dreamy voice from behind Ron. Luna Lovegood gave them a huge smile, her eyes as wide as ever. She had gotten rid of the minute thestral earrings and made new ones. She had also, recently, taken to visiting the Gryffindor Common Room, as Ginny had decided to be "kind to her" and give her the password, seeing as no one in Luna's own house spoke to her.

Harry smiled. "So what of your new earrings, Lovegood?"

She chuckled touched the dangling piece of jewelry on her ear. "Well, I consider it my tribute to Hagrid's little brother." Hermione thought they were rather ugly; they looked like short, chubby, and extremely hairy house-elves. But she said nothing; Luna had her own unique style and, in some odd way, she was learning to respect that.

Harry laughed. "Interesting. Have you shown Hagrid yet?"

She nodded. "He was actually rather sad...I think he's not quite over his brother leaving." She shrugged. "But that's not the reason I came over here. I was just wondering...are we going to continue the DA meetings during the winter break? I was hoping we would."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Luna. Many people are going home for the holidays. Ron and I are going to spend the holiday at Hermione's house, so we wouldn't be able to do it anyway. But the minute we return, we'll start them up again."

The DA meetings had been as successful and popular as the previous year. Not much had changed; they were learning useful spells (mostly the ones Harry had learned for the third task in fourth year) and everyone was accomplishing what they wanted. Neville was one of the top students; his magic was strong, and he was learning spells with little trouble. Hermione had noticed that, while Harry and Cho were not on actual speaking terms, they were being civil enough, and she was glad. Harry did not need to deal with any more problems with the students; he'd had enough of it the year before.

She was happy that he and Ron had decided to accept the invitation to stay at her house for the holidays. She wanted to stay with them, but she desperately wanted to spend time with her parents. It felt very much as if she had been neglecting them and she wanted to make sure that they knew how much she appreciated them. Besides, it would be fun spending time at a different house. Not that the Burrow wasn't wonderful enough, but she would rather not disturb the family since everything seemed so tedious lately.

Luna looked slightly disappointed. But she quickly recovered her cheery smile and said, "That's all right. Thanks for telling me, though. I'll tell Daddy I can go home. I think he might let me write an actual article for the Quibbler—as a Christmas gift. Well, nice talking to you lads." She gave them a dreamy smile and walked off, the tiny Grawp earrings bouncing lightly.

Ron watched her go and muttered under his breath, "Still a nutter."

"That's a bit harsh, Ron," said Hermione.

Ron shrugged and said, "I don't suppose you're up for another game of chess?"

"No, I have work to do. We have a Charms essay."

"It's due in 2 weeks, Hermione," Harry pointed out, although he knew it made no difference to his female best friend.

She gave him a look. "Harry, you know me better than that. I'm going to get it done and then you two slobs will be whining about it the day before it's due." She flashed a triumphant smile. Then she hit her forehead and said, "Oh, no, I almost forgot! We have a prefect meeting in fifteen minutes! Come on, Ron, we're going to be late." Ron groaned. Hermione rolled her eyes. She stuck her hand in her pocket and retrieved a badge. She pinned it on Ron's robes and said, "I'm not kidding, Ron, come on."

"Harry, is there any way you can get me out of this?"

"Sorry, mate, I'm powerless against the might of the prefects. You'd better get used to it; you'll probably be Head Boy next year."

Ron's eyes widened. "Yeah. And you'll dump my sister for Luna Lovegood." He sniggered but stopped promptly when Ginny shot him a death glare. He was about to keep talking when Hermione grabbed his arm and said, "Ron, I'm not going to beg, let's go!"

With that, she dragged him out of his chair. He didn't try to make her loosen her grip, but just followed her out of the room. Harry and Ginny laughed. "You know, you guys only have a year and a half left here. I don't understand why they're wasting time in getting together," Ginny said.

Harry turned a pale shade of green. "They can get together if they want, but they better not snog in front of me." He shuddered. After that, though, a silence fell over them. Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then he opted for the best thing that came to his mind. "Er...I'm going to take a leaf out of Hermione's book and start work on that Charms essay."

Ginny nodded silently. They exchanged "see you later"s and Harry quickly disappeared into his dormitory.

END POV

"Why are we forced through sit through that boring load of dung?" Ron muttered. He and Hermione were on their way back to the common room after the rather lengthy prefects meeting. "You know, my arse hurts from sitting in there for a bloody hour."

Hermione made a face. "I don't need information about your backside, thanks. And besides, the Head Boy made really good points about how students start slacking off at this time of year. We have to make sure people are working; it's important for us, what with the N.E.W.T.s next year and—"

"I was at the meeting, in case you'd forgotten." Hermione stared at him blankly. He shook his head. "I already heard this once. This is just how you were after the O.W.L.s."

"Well, pardon me for starting a conversation with you." Hermione gave him a nasty glare and ignored his mumbled apology. When they reached the portrait hole, she said, "Wingardium Leviosa." The Fat Lady smiled at her sleepily and said, "That's right dear. You two are out so late! You need some decent sleep."

Hermione had obviously ignored her because she walked into the common room silently. Ron followed, giving the Fat Lady a sheepish smile. When the door closed, he looked around the common room. It was empty, with the exception of a few students writing vigorously in the corner. No doubt they were doing some last-minute homework. He smiled at the sight; it reminded him of Harry and himself.

Hermione had plopped herself down in her usual armchair next to the fire. He a took his place in his usual seat and said, "Are you going to do that Charms essay?"

She shrugged "I'll do it tomorrow. It's too late now, and besides, I didn't get too much sleep last night." She yawned as if to prove her point.

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, we turned in pretty late last night." He was silent for a moment and then said, "Do you think Harry's a bit...distant since last year?"

Hermione looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I was just looking at those students in the corner doing homework and they kinda reminded me of Harry and me. But, the way he acted last year, it ruined that." His face darkened. "I hated his first day at Grimmauld Place. I hated having to stand there listening to him yell at us. It's like he doesn't even care whether we're his friends or not."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, you understand how he was feeling at that time. And you really can't blame him for being, in a sense, separated from us. I sincerely doubt he's over Sirius's death yet."

Ron looked her in the eye. "I'm not over Bill's death and you don't see me distancing myself from you guys." His scowl deepened.

"I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean to be inconsiderate about your reaction about Bill." She sighed. "I hate this. You two have to deal with all this and I really can't do anything to help you. I end up making you feel worse."

"Hermione, please don't give me that. I miss Bill, but I know it happened 'cause it was supposed to happen, I guess. It's hard, I won't deny that. It's hardest when I remember stuff that I did with Bill and..." He stopped talking. Instead, he stood up from the chair and sat on the floor in front of the fire with his back against the couch, and he stared at the flames, not saying anything.

Hermione watched him. When he didn't speak for minutes, she slowly left her chair and took a seat next to him. She didn't say anything, or urged him to continue speaking. She just sat with him. In fact, she was startled when he said, "I wish it hadn't happened, not so much for me but for Mum. She might yell at me and piss me off sometimes, but she's still my mum. She's the one who got me a pet Puffskein when she knew how stupid it was as a pet. Now she and my dad are sitting at home depressed while I prance around here happily every day." He sounded angry with himself. Without really thinking, he put his head on her shoulder. Hermione still said nothing. She had a feeling he only wanted to talk. So she let him relax and waited for him to speak.

But he didn't. When she looked down at him, he was asleep. A small smile strayed on her lips. She noticed Ron still looked very much like the little boy he had been in their first year. His cheeks weren't quite as pudgy and his hair was a bit longer, but besides that, he was looked like the same Ron. She sighed, not truly content or distressed, as she put her head lightly on top of Ron's.

Before she knew it, she, too, was asleep.

A/n: ack, I know that last bit sucked, but I hope you liked the rest of it! And I'm aware that I'm spending a bit too much time on Neville, but they leave for Hermione's house in the next chapter so they're will be plenty of Ron and Hermione instead. Okay, please review!! =)