A/N

Thank you SO much to those who reviewed! And sorry ot took so long to update, I have an archaeology exam coming up, not a pretty thing, I can tell you THAT.. Anyway, on with the story! I've decided to go a little more angst. Hope you don't mind.

After dinner Ron and Harry headed for their Division's Common Room. There was much chattering and the atmosphere was almost like in the good old days at Hogwarts : Seamus and Dean were having a play-fight in the corner, Justin was convincing Colin that the Canary Cream he was offering the boy was completely harmless…there were a few minutes when Harry and Ron could've been tricked into thinking that they had gone back in time. The sudden realisation that the past was no more, that the laughter of their fellow students would never be as innocent, was all the more painful when the navy blue of the uniforms had its effect on their momentarily tricked minds.

No, this definetely wasn't Hogwarts. Not when half the present in the Common Room had already mastered the Avada Kedavra (strictly for defence purposes, naturally), not when the play-fighting Dean and Seamus were already capable of killing with their bare hands. It was sometimes scary to think what many of the 17-year-old boys had been taught to do in the past few months. Harry and Ron never told Hermione just what kinds of curses they had mastered at their Practical lessons, or what kinds of Muggle fighting Gen.Sawyer was teaching them. They had discussed it once and figured Hermione would "just simply FREAK" if she found out her friends were being trained to become, well, murderers, to put it bluntly. They hadn't even thought, when entering the War Academy, that they would be intrusted with that kind of knowledge so soon. Then they had started to figure out that the Ministry and Academy officials were probably starting to doubt that there would be enough time before the Final Battle for the Cadets to even complete the full course…So, when they thought about it, Ron and Harry came to the conclusion that they should spare Hermione of knowing that her best friend and boyfriend had very little odds of living to their 20s. Everything around them said – you will not be spared. Talk about depressing.

Ron had realized that it was best not to think about such matters at all and focus on training and Horcrux research. He didn't really understand why the hell they were doing the latter when there was no way of leaving Academy grounds and going anywhere to look for the scattered pieces of Voldemort's black soul. But Harry had been annoyingly insistent on the matter, so Ron would force himself to visit the library every time he could, he would go and look…and look and look and look. Hermione was doing the same, but there was nothing strange about that. He, on the other hand, was having doubts about remaining sane for a long time ahead. And it wasn't just the Horcruxes. Heck, it wasn't even the whole knowing-he-was-capable-of-killing thing either. He knew perfectly well what it was. He would shove the thought of it away to the back of his mind…

…along with all the other thoughts of Hermione Granger that made his life a living hell. It wasn't HER, no, SHE was probably the reason he was still as sane as ever. What made him fear for his sanity was that the thoughts of her that nagged him every minute she wasn't around and every second she WAS around, but with Harry. At times everything would tumble down at him, and Ron would feel as if he was the most miserable man in the world. Thoughts of death and pain and unfound Horcruxes came to mind, along with feelings of self-loathing and anger and sadness. At times he would feel sudden hate-attacks, and then he would have no choice but to go to an abandoned classroom, conjure up a pounding mat, the kind they trained with, and beat it so hard that if the mat was a person it would have probably bled to death ten times before Ron was finished with it. It scared him to think that these fits often came exactly when they were all sitting in the Common Room and Hermione would be stroking Harry's hair or Harry would have his arm around Hermione. But it scared him even more, when he thought that all it took for his raging madness to go away was for Harry to suddenly take off somewhere and leave Ron and Hermione together, as it had happened a few times. Ron would immediately feel calm and sane and almost happy, when Hermione sat there and looked at him and talked to him… It didn't seem normal, for her to have that kind of power over him. He didn't know if he liked her having that power. He knew for sure, though, that he didn't like the fits of angst he would suddenly get, and he was afraid that one day it would come when he had a weapon in hand…and Merlin knows what he'd be capable of in such a state.

But that evening the one thing that was bothering him was the absence of Hermione. Who knew what was better, of course, having her sitting there in Harry's arms or not sitting there at all, but Ron didn't really care at that moment – he wanted to see his best friend, that was all that mattered. Merlin knows they hadn't been seeing much of one another lately. The thought of going to look for her instantly made him feel better, so he made a beeline for the portrait hole and was about to walk through when he remembered. Harry. Of course, he had to go with Harry, didn't he? He scanned the room for his black-haired friend and saw him sitting in a chair, staring at the fire in the fireplace. His eyes were glassy, flames flickered in them. His shoulders were slightly slunched, as he leaned his elbows against his knees. Something odd moved inside of Ron, and he wanted to kick himself for constantly feeling sorry for himself, when his best friend was probably feeling ten times the pain he was. It was Harry's responsibility to kill Voldemort in the end…Ron couldn't even imagine what that must be like. To know you were destined to become a murderer…or be killed yourself. How could he have been so selfish as to even think of denying Harry the one thing that obviously made his life a bit better and happier? Didn't Harry need the light and comfort and content Hermione brought him, ten times, a hundred times more than Ron did? He felt like such a sodding idiot for not bothering to think about this before. Harry deserves to have Hermione in his life, Merlin knows he doesn't have much. What kind of a friend WAS Ron if he ever got angry and hateful for it? Feelings of guilt panged in his chest.

He walked away from the portrait and approached Harry's chair. The boy didn't move, lost in his own thoughts.

-Mate, let's go look for Hermione. Judging by the looks of you, that girl's definetely what you need right now,-said Ron softly, trying to make his voice strain-free. Harry cracked a smile and answered wearily, getting up from the chair:

-Don't let Hermione catch you saying that, Weasley. She'll go into one of her feministic fits…Nobody owns her, remember?

Ron smiled at the thought. They walked out of the Common Room and started down the corridor, speaking softly in the abandoned hallway. When they rounded a corner, they nearly ran into Coronel Heathway.

Heathway was one of the most famous Aurors there were, having participated in innumerable battles against Death-Eaters. He was even taller than Ron, and his mere appearance had a most frightening effect, not only on Cadets, but even on some of his superiors. Heathway had a scar coming across his cheek and a steel look in his searing black eyes. His raven hair had a slight touch of grey. He always spoke in short frases, capturing the essence of what he was going to say. Running into him in the corridors usually made everyone nervous, to say the least.

Ron and Harry immediately saluted the Coronel and prayed to Merlin that their uniforms were in order. It appeared so, because the Coronel simply gave them one stern look after turning to Harry.

-Potter, General Mayers needs to see you in his office. Immediately.

-Yes, sir,-Harry instantly replied and started after the Coronel. Ron was still standing straight with his arms at his sides as he watched his friend turn quickly to face him and give him an apologizing shrug. Harry then turnen and followed in Heathway's quick steps. Ron stopped to ponder what the General might have needed Harry for, but then figured…well, this WAS The-Boy-Who-Lived, and hell, there was always something extraordinary to do with him. At least now finding Hermione on his own seemed a perfectly natural thing to do.

Ron's mind quickly turned to his original target, and that was finding Hermione. He continued down the corridor towards the library, silently hoping she was there and not as busy as not to have time to speak with him. He didn't even remember the last time they got a chance to talk when Harry wasn't around and her attention wasn't entirely on him. Hermione was his best friend, for Merlin's sake, and, while he realised he had no right to denie those two the comfort they obviously brought each other, it sometimes made Ron angry to think her relationship with Harry had to affect their friendship. So, as he entered the library and scanned the book-shelves and tables, he prayed that tonight he could get the chance to finally see her like in the good old days. "Yeah, fucking play-pretend that nothing's changed",-thought Ron grimly, walking past the endless rows of bookcases and finaly stopping abruptly when he spotted Hermione, at the farther table by the window, her head on the table and sound asleep.

Ron's steps slowed down as he walked over to her table and turned to lean against the window-pane. He stood there, studying her, all previous thoughts vanishing from his head. This was one of the rare times he could watch her freely and not be afraid of catching her glance. His gaze traveled over the familiar features and slowly softened as he took in every inch of her face and folded arms. Hell, she was beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful most people see at hearing that word. No, there was something about her that made even her flaws seem perfect. The way her hair hadn't been quite tamed. The few freckles dotting her nose. Ron knew most would never account Hermione as beautiful. Some thought her shortish, others said her hips were wider than the beauty standart…What the fuck do they know, Ron often thought angrily when hearing girls gossiping about her in the hallways. But there was a part of him that loved her even more, because of the quiet beauty only he, Ron, saw in her, because he felt there was something about her not even Harry could admire. That thought was whirling in his mind, as his gaze travelled from her closed eyes to her cheeks down to her slightly open lips. She suddenly frowned and stirred, letting out a soft sigh, then turned to her other side. Ron wondered if she could feel being watched, even being asleep. He let himself take in the sight of her exposed neck and felt his face growing slightly hotter. I'm a bastard, he suddenly thought, staring at her like this. She's all Harry's, his to look at and kiss and desire…isn't she?

Hermione suddenly woke with a jerk, and Ron watched her raise her head, sit still for a moment and then turn in his direction, jumping at seeing him. He could tell he had startled her, but all she said was:

- What do you think you're doing, scaring me like that, Ron!

He replied nothing for a moment and just grinned at her, before getting a grip and starting to ramble on about something to do with finding her and Harry and the Coronel…Hermione was half-trying to understand what he was saying, but another part of her simply wanted to watch him talk.

He had changed. And it hurt Hermione to feel that she got to see him so rarely these days she could even notice these changes. The way he spoke and moved his arms had gotten slightly more mature, he frowned more often, as if contemplating something, but this was still Ron Weasley, the same Ron she knew and…knew. It was weird to think that sitting with him, alone, like this, just plain talking, had become an exotic matter for them. And it was only one of many weird thoughts she had began to have about Ron Weasley.

Hermione Granger was a smart witch. All right, she was a very smart witch. That's why she knew that being in denial isn't exactly the smart thing for a person to do. And that's precisely why she, reluctantly, had to admit to herself that her relationship with Ron had become more than complicated over the summer. No, not complicated. A freaking hell. She would never have thought that one person could make her feel so much at once, and thus, make her life nearly impossible.

She didn't know what it was about him, but being alone with him, having been so simple in the past, had become increasingly difficult. Not all the time of course, but there were times when she felt raging mad around him. She would catch herself sitting there, on the verge of tears, feeling incredibly guilty for something and not being able to look into those eyes. She felt she had betrayed him in some way, and it took a long time for Hermione to figure out what it was.

Merlin knows, she found out the hard way. She understood it all when at some point she realized what exactly Ron could make her feel. She would suddenly get all kinds of feelings about him that made her blush to even think about. She would feel herself willing to send everything in her life flying straight to hell… just to be able to caress his cheek or to feel his touch on her body. And sometimes – even worse! – she would catch his gaze upon herself and be blasted with it, dark from sadness and something else she couldn't exactly define.

What are you doing to me, Ron Weasley, she thought sadly, before turning her attention to what he was actually saying.

-…and then I come up here and see you asleep.-Ron paused for a moment, then inquired.-Are you really that tired, Hermione? You shouldn't work that hard, you know. It's not healthy at all…

-Oh, it's easy for you to say, Ron!-she breathed out, not quite aware of what she was saying. The look on his face, a mix of hurt and anger, made her start explaining hastily. –No it's not…that's not what I meant…you know it's not…

-Do I, Hermione? Anymore? Do I really know what you mean anymore? – he replied in quiet anger, pushing himself away from the window. Hermione jumped from her seat and quickly approached him, gesturing and trying to explain herself:

-No, Ron, I'm sorry…I was just saying…that you can't understand what it's like for me…to feel I'm not doing enough…You..you're helping Harry, and you've made so much progress in Practical training…and look at me – how much have I done? What good might I possibly be of, come the Final Battle? D'you have any idea…

Ron simply gaped at her, at a loss for words. Hermione rubbed her forehead:

-Or maybe you're right, I just must be tired. I think I'll just…

-I never knew you felt that way, Hermione. That's ridiculous! – Ron blurted out, looking shocked. –You really think you're not doing enough, or not as much as me or Harry? That's freaking bullshit, how could you even think that? – Hermione winced at his cursing, but said nothing. The red-headed young man in front of her somehow made her want to listen, not argue, like with old Ron. He stared at her unbelievingly, then smirked oddly and turned to the window. This instantly made her suspicious.

-And what exactly do you find so funny, Ronald? – Hermione asked, fuming. The red-head simply shook his head before turning to her and throwing her a weird kind of grin.

-Hey, it's just unbelievable. Ever since I knew you, you were always so confident and sure of what you and the others are supposed to be doing. And now…you actually feel I've outdone you at something!

-Yeah well thanks for rubbing it in, you GIT, - she snapped suddenly, not thinking a second about what she was saying, as she started collecting her books jerkily. –I'm glad that me being in a right state is such a joy to you. Are all of my failures? – she barely had the time to register that she had crossed the line when Ron grabbed her wrist and turned her to face himself. Hermione saw that his face was striked with anger and hurt and…

-How can you SAY that? Do you have any idea what you just said? D'you really think I'm some bloody Malfoy? I'm your fucking best mate, Hermione! Or at least I was before…

-Before what, Ronald?
-Before you decided to shove me the HELL out of your life! – he bellowed and abruptly let go of her, turned on his heels and stormed out of the library. On his way towards the exit he ran into a hysterically shushing Madam Pince, but didn't even stop. Hermione stood frozen, watching him leave, before leaning against the stone wall and letting angry tears run free down her cheeks.

Love it? Hate it? Don't get it? Please REVIEW! Just don't be too cruel about it. I'm just getting warmed up. Working on the third chap already, will be more angst and swearing, we'll find out something unexpected about Harry and Ron's summer, and more development in the bittersweet romance department…..there is one LITTLE catch.

You gotta review. Sorry, people, that's the only way to go. No reviews – no next revealing chappie! Hee hee, I'm a sadist. Oh well))))