Author's Notes: Yes, to confirm my readers' suspicions, this is a missing moments story. And I have Hermione and Ron's first meeting after the Birthday Surprise all written! It just needs to be polished. Plus, I have to write all the stuff that comes before it... I don't write sequentially.

But I just had to write this. When I read Half-Blood Prince, I remembered feeling exactly like Ron was feeling. What he was doing made so much sense that I thought, "I have to write this. It'll be therapeutic for my rotten childhood." Ok, actually my childhood wasn't that rotten, but I do remember feeling pathetic and helpless a lot. So anyway, this will save me money on psychiatrists.

Weasley, King of Patheticness +

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Ron was old enough to realize his sulking was pathetic, but not old enough to stop himself from doing it.

He nearly stalked off after the encounter with Slughorn, but he managed to control himself at least enough to sit in the common room with Harry and Hermione and Ginny. Even so, he felt all the bile in his stomach lurch upward into his mouth as he listened on the periphery of the conversation that was dominated almost entirely by Harry and Hermione. As he sat, he pictured Harry and Hermione going to Slughorn's stupid party.

They weren't having fun in his imagination, but they were huddled together cracking jokes and whispering about how they'd like to leave. But Slughorn was trying to draw them in conversation anyway, because they were important, and they were going to be Aurors or something someday and Ron wasn't. Even though Ron had made prefect, that was only because Dumbledore had taken pity on him, and somehow Slughorn knew it and Slughorn didn't take pity on people. Even Neville Longbottom had gotten invited to one of Slughorn's gatherings, and all he ever did was trip over things and forget passwords.

But wasn't Ron's father the head of the department of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects? Weren't his brothers successful entrepreneurs? Hadn't his own sister merited an invitation? Slughorn didn't know any of that, and probably didn't even know that he was related to Ginny. But maybe someday Slughorn would find out and then Ron would be important enough to merit an invitation.

Ron decided that he wouldn't go, not even to be polite. He'd refuse, just as Hermione and Harry ought to have done. Why should all those strangers be more helpful to Harry and Hermione than Ron had been? It was laughable that Zabini or McLaggen would ever give them a leg up in their careers. It was more laughable still to think that Harry and Hermione could even worry about their careers right now when the whole wizarding world was at war.

Ron Weasley had stood beside them in the Department of Mysteries. That ought to count for something more worthwhile than a bunch of rich strangers. But of course, stupid English politeness would prevail. Stupid Slughorn. Stupid Club. Stupid Harry. Stupid Hermione.

He peeked a little to see whether or not his friends had noticed his ill humor, only to find them still deep in discussion. So Ron sat with his arms folded, staring at the ceiling and anywhere else rather than stare at Harry and Hermione. He couldn't understand their insensitivity.

The only time he was startled out of his brooding was when Hermione called his attention to his father's presence in the newspaper. But when it turned out to be about something Harry had done, Ron allowed his attention to wander once again. As it wandered, his thoughts bumbled over random memories and snippets of conversation that only made him feel worse. Once he so distinctly recalled Hermione saying to Harry, "You've never been more fanciable," that for a moment Ron thought he was hearing her repeat it again.

With a sigh, he realized that the only thing he and Hermione shared anymore was their common disbelief in Harry's latest theory pertaining to Draco Malfoy.

So when Harry and Hermione's conversation turned to Slughorn's party once more, Ron didn't try to control himself. "Well," he said, recognizing this as the excuse to leave he'd been wanting all evening, "as I'm not invited to any parties, I think I'll go to bed." And with that, stomped off to the boys' dormitories.

Later, in his room, Ron found himself picturing what life might be like if Harry and Hermione were to go out. Horrible, he knew without guessing. He wouldn't even be able to beat Harry up because he couldn't tell his friend not to be happy. And he couldn't yell at Hermione because she would surely never speak to him again. And that would be like slowly suffocating or like losing a leg or an arm or maybe his whole heart.

It would be nights and nights of Ron flopping down on this bed and peering up into a dreamworld of Hermione kissing him with her hair falling over her shoulders so it tickled his cheeks, only to wake up and find that Harry Potter had gotten there first.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Stole His Best Mate's Girl.

Harry Potter, the Weasel Who Weaseled Her Away from Weasley.

Ron couldn't even hate him for doing it. Harry was like his brother.

When a tear threatened to fall, Ron sniffed and wiped it away roughly. He wasn't going to cry about this. He was almost of age now, and he couldn't act like a petulant little boy anymore. First of all, he was being ridiculous. So they had been laughing together in the Great Hall, big deal? They laughed together all the time. Harry was his best mate, and as far as he knew there was nothing, absolutely nothing between him and Hermione. Moreover, Harry would have said something or asked for permission because Harry respected his opinion.

It was only Hermione who thought he was stupid! And she'd know what it was like to take him for granted. Ron decided that he would just disappear from her life, and then she'd be sorry. But the prospect of life without Hermione seemed so bleak that Ron almost began to cry again at the thought of it. So he wouldn't disappear from her life, but he could still refrain from talking to her. Then she'd have to ask him what was wrong, and he could tell her. Ron liked the picture he painted of a sobbing Hermione, begging on her knees for forgiveness.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Ron. Please, it's only you I love! Please oh please oh please speak to me again."

"Well, all right, Hermione. I'll forgive you if you promise never to flirt with Harry again."

"Oh, I swear! I swear! I'll never talk to him again unless you say it's ok."

"Well, that's a bit extreme, Hermione. After all, you are good friends, so I give you permission to talk to Harry."

"You're too good, Ron. I don't deserve it at all."

When he had gone over the same fantasy for the hundredth time, it became so vivid in his mind that Ron felt it had actually happened. And for once, Ron managed to fall asleep feeling perfectly content.

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When Ron woke up in the morning, even if his awakening was due to Harry's Levicorpus spell suspending him in the air, he found that all malice towards his friends had disappeared. And when he and Harry met Hermione for breakfast, during which no one said a word about Slughorn and everyone talked about the impending trip to Hogsmeade, Ron heartily forgave them and tried hard not to emit a single snipe. His resolution, however, was short-lived. Unfortunately, in recounting the events of the early morning, Ron made the mistake of Harry's spell once more than was really necessary. He had been delighted by the Prince's ingenuity, but in all the guffawing around the table Ron had forgotten that Hermione would not share his opinion. However, in the middle of his zealous fabrication of the Prince's history, Ron was rudely reminded of this fact.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" Hermione asked in the middle of their merrymaking.

Ron glanced at Harry, realizing too late that he'd gotten him into trouble. He shoved a sausage into his mouth as he waited for the results.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?" said Harry.

Unphased, Hermione pressed on. "Was it?"

"Well, yeah, it was, but so what?"

Ron watched them bicker, unable to help feeling a little pleased that Hermione was upset with Harry for once instead of him. But soon enough the pleasure gave way to guilt and Ron decided he needed to fix his mistake and save Harry from the Wrath of Hermione. She was ruining what had seemed at first to be a promising morning.

"It was a laugh!" said Ron. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" she shot back. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

Somehow this seemed like a challenge, another example of Hermione's scholastic elitism. Nothing could ever be worthwhile for her unless it led to good grades. With a resigned shrug, Ron answered her: "Fred and George. It's their kind of thing…" He trailed off when he couldn't think of another good example.

Harry took up the baton.

"My dad used this spell," he said at length. "I – Lupin told me."

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

Ron felt this was an unfair comparison, and decided the conversation had gone far enough. He knew only too well that Hermione would twist everybody's words until she won her point. Comparing Harry to a Death Eater was ludicrous, and anyway she wasn't really angry about floating people around. What she really meant was that she felt inadequate in comparison to a text book and couldn't stand to see anything good it. And that was exactly what Ron told her. "You don't like the Prince, Hermione, because he's better than you at Potions."

"It's got nothing to do with that!" she barked back, and the races were off. Hermione took off on a stream-of-consciousness argument, which Ron knew from experience meant that she was within one millimeter of reaching spitting-mad. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"

Ron's jaw twitched with anger. Who was she calling irresponsible! She kept staring right at him and screaming, "You you you!" And why? Because he'd been laughing about something Harry had done? Ron turned bright, ready to pounce on her and only refrained from doing so because Harry beat him to it.

"I don't see where you get that from," Harry argued. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?"

"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you and Ron join up."

"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" cried Ron, sending a piece of his breakfast flying from his fork when he slammed it on the table. He stared at Hermione, sitting straight up with the most self-righteous expression on her face that he'd ever seen, and detested it. It was as if she thought she was better than him just because no one could even conceive of asking her to be a Death Eater. Was being called a 'mudblood' any worse than being persecuted for being part of a family that never used the word? It was strange that as she was drawing false distinctions between them, she called attention to the one that could never be breached. Hermione would never quite understand what it was to be born a wizard that other wizards shunned. "My whole family are blood traitors!" he tried to explain, but felt that as always he could not express himself with any justice. "That's as bad as Muggle-borns to Death Eaters!" And perhaps it was worse.

"And they'd love to have me," said Harry, breaking the tension. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

Hermione smiled, and the debate was at an end. Good will and fun returned for the moment. But when they were all in Hogsmeade later, they ran into Slughorn, which caused Hermione to start enumerating the merits of those stupid parties.

She just couldn't understand what it was like to be left out, could she? Even when she changed the subject, Ron's felt his mood dampened.

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Ron's mood dampened a lot over the next few days as more and more people began whispering about the Slughorn's favoritism. The Slug Club wasn't an easy thing to escape, apparently. It didn't matter whether you were in it or not. Harry couldn't stop the invitations, and Ron couldn't stop himself from hearing about them. Sometimes he'd manage to get Harry and Hermione off the topic only to have Ginny start in. The parties were also starting to be good subjects for gossip. He'd heard that Zabini and Malfoy had fallen out because Malfoy hadn't received an invitation. It was obviously a false rumor, since Zabini and Malfoy still enjoyed one another's sneers across the Slytherin table, but Ron dreaded the day when he'd hear the rumors about Cormac McLaggen and Hermione Granger hooking up with another one of Slughorn's mad tea parties.

The latest soiree came up in Herbology one day soon after Katie Bell's necklace mishap. Hermione set down the slimy pod she'd reaped from the prickly bramble that was the subject of today's class and said, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."

Ron couldn't help the sarcasm that dripped out his mouth, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," she had the nerve to respond, as if the Slug Club were something like a chess club or a choir that you could join as long as you had the free time.

"Slug Club," Ron mocked her when she tried to defend the name again. "It's pathetic." And it was. Ron pictured Slughorn presiding over his guests, treating them like puppets, pulling their strings when he wanted them to talk, buttering their tiny crumpets for them in his obscenely large hands. Or maybe he'd make them play getting-to-know-you games, forcing them to wear name tags and walk around each other in two circles in order to make them dance. In the second vision, he seemed to be something of a gentleman dandy, society's pimp. "Well, I hope you enjoy your party," he sneered. "Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug –"

But as Ron glared at the floor, waiting for Harry to return with a pod that Ron had accidentally sent hurtling across the room, Hermione said the most surprising thing.

"We're allowed to bring guests, and I was going to ask you to come…" She was quiet as she spoke. Almost shy. It was strange, for Ron had never thought Hermione could be shy.

Moreover, Ron couldn't believe what he'd just heard. She was asking him to come as her guest? Harry wasn't doing the asking, which meant…well, what did it mean? Did it mean she fancied him?

"…but," she kept going, "if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother."

This last bit went over Ron's head. He was still processing the first half of her statement. Hermione was asking him to be her date. Right?

"You were going to ask me?" he inquired, trying to clarify the situation.

"Yes," she snapped. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen…"

Ron was still trying to figure out whether it was a date or not, and let her challenge go unmet. "No I wouldn't," he let himself say. It was the most honest he had ever felt with Hermione. It seemed to make her happy, or at least it made her blush. His eyes met hers for a moment and he thought that maybe, just maybe it was possible that she liked him as more than a friend. Maybe this was the start of something wonderful.

However, Harry ruined the moment when he shattered their pod bowl. Ron felt suddenly very uncomfortable in Hermione's presence, feeling that something so amazing had just happened that, if he stayed beside her one more second, that something would vanish like smoke in the wind. Nevertheless, he threw himself into the lesson and tried not to feel too happy when Hermione's arm brushed against his.

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The match against Slytherin was coming up that weekend, and to say that Ron was nervous at practice was an understatement. He was terrified of ruing their chances. He was well aware that if he did, Harry would go down in Hogwarts History as the first Gryffindor Captain to lag behind in 4th place since…well, since a long time ago. Ron exerted his every effort, even during the Chaser drills when the focus of the practice was on scoring goals instead of blocking them, but somehow he got worse every minute. With each goal he allowed in, Ron's terror amplified itself by ten until the two skinny girls zooming towards him looked more like giants on twigs and the Quaffle looked like an asteroid.

Something had always nagged at the back of Ron's mind that told him McLaggen was the better player. And the moment he messed up, Ron just knew Harry would regret letting him on the team. Oh, Harry would keep him on the team anyway because they were friends, but after coming in fourth in the Quidditch Cup Finals, Harry's friendship would turn to resentment and loathing. Then next year McLaggen would be on the team and Harry would hate him and Hermione would go out with McLaggen and…

His train of thought led him to miss another goal.

"Ron, pay attention!" Harry coached him from the sidelines. Ron tried to obey, but Ginny was playing Chaser relentlessly and he couldn't stop a single one. Frantic, Ron decided that if he just flew erratically in front of the goal, he could confuse the chasers enough that they wouldn't be able to knock one in. But this only resulted in Ginny and Demelza double-teaming him in an attempt to fake him out. Demelza came within a meter of him, too far for Ron to stop her from passing Ginny, but close enough that he could try. Somehow his block caught her in the mouth and bloodied her lower lip.

He watched her circle to the ground in horror as Ginny chastised him. He followed Demelza to the ground and threw off his keeper gloves. Practice was mercifully over.

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," he said later as he and Harry sauntered into the castle and up towards Gryffindor Tower. Everyone else had gone ahead, but Harry had stayed behind to put away the equipment and Ron had stayed with him.

"No, you didn't," Harry reassured him as they climbed the steps toward their wing of the castle. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves. You've got the speed, the skill, the technique. You know the other teams' weaknesses inside and out. Better yet, you're a team player. Do you think for one moment that McLaggen would have apologized to Demelza?"

Ron wished Harry hadn't brought up Demelza again and cast him a forlorn glance of disbelief. Harry winced, but patted him on the back. "Well, he wouldn't have. He'd be too busy telling her what she did wrong. But you're not like that Ron. You really care about your team. All you need to do is learn how to keep your focus."

"Yeah, yeah —" mumbled Ron. "I wish I could figure out —"

Ron pulled aside the tapestry that blocked the short cut to Gryffindor Tower only to discover two crazy students behind it, snogging for all they were worth. He gasped in embarrassment and disgust, and then…

Oh Bloody Hell.

Ron was shocked when he recognized who it was snogging in the corner. Ginny? How disgusting! And how could he ever look at Dean Thomas again? He would have thought their tongues were glued together if not for the fact that they were moving around like snakes trying to slither into the other person's mouth.

He stifled a gag. "Oi!" he exclaimed, just wanting them to stop. He hadn't even formed the intent to reprimand her. He merely wanted them to stop before his eyeballs melted out of their sockets.

"What?" said Ginny, when she broke away from Dean. The expression on her face was unrepentant at best.

Ron stared at her. "I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" she shouted. It was dark, but Ron knew that his sister's face was beet red. Meanwhile, Dean wrestled free of the mess and wisely hastened back to the common room, leaving his sister before him doing the best impression of their mother that he'd ever seen.

"Right," she started as if she were laying out class guidelines. If Hermione were present, she would have been taking notes, "Let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron —"

Ron didn't know what she meant by "what I do with them," but he decided it was one of those phrases you shouldn't delve into too deeply.

"Yeah, it is! D'you think I want people say my sister's a —"

"A what? A what, exactly?"

Harry desisted from his impersonation of a rock long enough to interject a, "He doesn't mean anything, Ginny —"

And maybe all Ron meant was that he didn't want his little sister to be so knowledgeable, or maybe that he wanted his little sister to be with his best mate. Whatever Ron meant, Ron himself wasn't sure what it was; but Ginny felt she had a pretty good idea.

And then all Hell broke loose.

"Oh yes he does!" Ginny shrieked, "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel —"

Ron mentally begged her to stop. Outwardly, he attacked. He couldn't be shamed like this in front of Harry. He had never told Harry anything about his inexperience, but had always been so careful to seem as if he might have had some. "Shut your mouth!"

"No, I will not! I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

At that moment, Ron hated Ginny. How could a sister talk like this to her own brother? She must have watched him all summer and somehow had known that he fancied Fleur enough to like her pecks on the cheek. And that meant she'd been storing up that information that long just so she could throw it back in his face, in front of Harry, who was better than him at everything, but had never cared...until this humiliation. Ron could have cried if he weren't so furious.

He yanked out his wand and aimed it for her head. "You don't know what you're talking about! Just because I don't do it in public —!"

Harry jumped in his way, while Ginny went into mad hysterics as he failed to make a clear shot. Shut your stupid face! He could kill her.

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?" Auntie Muriel was as big as a house.

"You —" He aimed his best hex at her nasty, laughing face and was enraged to find that it missed.

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" she cried. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum —!"

Ron gagged on his own tongue.

What?

From that point on, Ron didn't understand anything else Ginny was shouting at him. All he could hear was the sound of his heart breaking.

Hermione...what?

"…you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year old!" he heard Ginny finish.

He was vaguely aware that Ginny had gone and that Harry was leading him back to the common room. Meanwhile, Ron's whole being was shaking with unrepressed fury. Twice he could bear it no more and punched the stone wall with the side of his fist, not relishing the feeling of broken knuckles, but wanting to hurt something, even if it was himself.

A little girl crossed their paths and Ron swore at her. She dropped what looked to be her sneakoscope in the hallway and Ron kicked it so hard that it shattered in the corridor.

Harry was silent beside him, for which Ron would be forever grateful. He didn't acknowledge a single thing Ginny had said and honestly didn't seem to have processed it. Before they reached the common room, Ron turned to him. "D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Harry seemed confused. "What? Oh…er…"

And Ron knew by Harry's avoidant stammering that the answer was yes.

They went up to the dormitories together in silence. Once again, Ron found himself collapsed on his bed, staring up into the ceiling as he thought of a girl, who neither thought of him nor cared if he thought of her.

Hermione had snogged Viktor.

All summer…all year…whenever he had asked why she was writing to Krum, she had always said they were only friends. Just friends! And he had believed her, more or less. He'd had his suspicions that she was lying, but he had always thought he was being unreasonable. Ron had thought Hermione would never lie to him.

But she had been lying the whole time. She hadn't wanted to be inconvenienced, and so she'd side stepped the truth to avoid what? His outburst? His temper tantrum? How would she know that he would have yelled at her if she'd tried to tell him the truth?

He didn't always react badly! Maybe he would have accepted it if she had told him that she truly liked Viktor and wasn't just using him for a date to the Yule Ball. She had told Harry, but she hadn't thought Ron Weasley was worth the trouble.

Hermione must think he was pathetic. She'd never said it in so many words, but she insulted him often enough. The words, "emotional range of a teaspoon" came to mind.

How foolish of him to think she'd really wanted to him to go with her to that party. She'd only been trying to keep him from making fun of Slughorn, just a means of shutting him up.

Well, he'd show her! Ron decided he didn't want to go unless she apologized. Only then would he tell her that he'd think about it. He didn't know what to do with her at a party anyway. Ginny was right. He had no experience with girls. He remembered perfectly his disastrous attempt at dating back when he'd taken Padma to the Yule Ball.

Never, never in Ron's wildest dreams had he thought Hermione snogged Krum. Now that he knew the truth, Ron couldn't fantasize about kissing her anymore without thinking about how she'd be comparing him to Krum. Hermione would squint her eyes the way she did whenever she was watching him stir his potion the wrong way, and then she'd back away from him in disgust.

Maybe she'd snogged other boys too. He wouldn't know because she never talked to him about those sorts of things. Maybe Hermione was really good at snogging, but he wouldn't ever find out. Maybe Ginny had told her that Ron Weasley had never snogged anybody and thought it was disgusting.

He had been beginning to think that Hermione liked him, but if she had liked him and she'd been so good at snogging, then why hadn't she just said she was interested? Girls could say so now. It wasn't the 19th Century. Lavender Brown was always giggling at him, for example. Romilda Vane had approached Harry on numerous occasions.

Apparently, Hermione wasn't shy about these things anymore since she'd had experience, but she still hadn't ever indicated she was interested in him as anything more than friends.

It hurt that she'd let Krum touch her, but not him. It hurt because he hadn't really ever liked any girl except for her. He hadn't ever wanted to kiss anybody except for her.

With a shuddering sigh, Ron closed his eyes and tried to think of how he could fix it all in the morning. He didn't want to be pathetic anymore.

However, when he fell asleep he was plagued by dreams where Hermione came to profess her love, but he couldn't understand her because she was speaking Bulgarian. He couldn't find an interpreter anywhere, and eventually she gave up and went back to Viktor Krum.

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