Disclaimer/Author's Note: I don't own any of this, except for the words, maybe. Now, there's a contest that will get me to the UK for free (if I win). Hope and pray for me! Anyway, there's also this program I have to rehearse for, so, in other words, I'm extremely busy. Oh, and the DSL was busted. Okay, on with the story:

Ron had just stormed out of his conversation with Harry, and he was marching down the stairs in complete displeasure of what his best friend said. Of course, he liked Hermione well enough to be able to appreciate her (even if it was only recently). 'But,' he thought to himself as he trudged downstairs, 'I could never—no, no, really ever… l—lo—laaaah—ll—lo—oh, crap, now I can't even think the word.'

Suddenly, Fred came walking up to him, saying a bit loudly, "Hi, Ron! Have you seen Hermione?"

Slowly, gradually, Ron could feel all the anger, frustration, exasperation, infuriation, aggravation, annoyance, irritation—and every other dangerous word that means, "pissed off"—boiling up inside him. He could feel his blood rising, and he could feel heat from within himself. He could sense that he was turning very red, and it was obvious that Fred noticed.

"Ron? I just want to know where—"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

Fred fell to the floor as Ron tried to strangle him. He, too, was becoming a different color: a deep purple that clearly indicated he was making his way out of this world. He panicked. 'It shouldn't have ended this way, brother against brother, even if we always were at war.' Then George caught his eye.

"Orj… elp…me!" His twin lunged on Ron's back, trying to pry his hands off of Fred's throat. "Ron, you maniac! Let him go!" as he said this, Ron raised a fist from his brother's quickly so as to punch George in the face. George keeled over, clutching his bleeding nose. Then Ron turned back to Fred, with his fist raised. Ron punched unmercifully.

Now, Fred could just see George struggling to get up and have another go at Ron. He decided he could still get Ron off of him himself. So he kicked frantically as his brother gave him a black eye and enhancing it all the while. Finally, he managed to aim at Ron's shins; he gave another yell, and George had just gathered enough strength to punch Ron thrice. But the black eyes didn't seem to bother him at all; all that he wanted to do then was kill Fred (and Colin Creevey, too, for that matter, who was taking pictures of all of this), who now had his undivided attention.

"You!" he panted, holding his bruised shins and cut lip, "And… 'Mione…" Ron suddenly turned red with anger again and tried to lunge once more at Fred. But he knew better this time; he pinned Ron to the wall by his throat! George then held his arms in place so that they could do no more damage.

Then Fred cried, "I DON'T LIKE HERMIONE, YOU DO!" Then he and his twin let go of their brother, and walked away to apply the medication they had brought in case this happened, which as you can see just did.

Ron stood there, dumbfounded. He was about to walk out to head for the hospital wing, when Hermione came in through the portrait hole. She looked up to see the thoroughly injured Ron, and gasped loudly but sincerely. "Ron!" she cried, holding her hand out but not touching his wounds. "What happened to you?" Ron gulped at the sight of her so worried, while thinking about how true Fred's last statement was, and said, "I'd rather not say," knowing that if he did say exactly what happened, she'd burst into tears and injure him even further. He also knew that if he twisted the truth even just a little, she'd find out sooner or later what really occurred.

It was clear that Hermione wanted to continue interrogating him until he answered suitably, but it was also obvious that she was struggling with the same temptation. A sigh indicated that she would not proceed with it. Instead, she just said, "Come on. I'll treat your cuts."

Ron was inexplicably delighted at the prospect.

After dinner, around 9 o'clock that evening, Hermione told him that it was time to treat his injuries again. "I could help you with N.E.W.T.'s too, if you want," she offered, her voice still trembling with concern. Ron did not need to think about this; he readily agreed. They sat near the fireplace for so long that by the time they looked around (for the first time), everyone had apparently gone to bed. Ron saw this as an opportunity. But exactly how to do it…

"Hermione?" he said, as she was applying essence of murtlap to his arms.

"Yes?" she said serenely.

"There's this thing between me and, um, Pig… you know, my owl?"

"Yeah?" she said, puzzled. Ron could see she had just looked up in complete surprise.

"Well, you know… I'm always complaining about him, right? But lately… I've been thinking, see… I mean, we can't really get along, can we?" he said, laughing a bit.

"No," agreed Hermione, listening calmly but intently.

"It's just that, you know… if I were to lose him, I don't think that… well, you know… take it very well."

"I know," she replied, getting up and walking upstairs. "Goodnight Ron."

"Wait! Don't go yet! Hermione, you know, I'm not really talking about Pig!"

Hermione stopped for a moment, grinning to herself with her back still facing Ron. Then she turned around and walked back downstairs, toward him.

"Ron…"

"Hermione, I'm not talking—"

He was interrupted by her finger on his lips.

"Ron," she began. "I know. Goodnight."

The End.