I know. It's incredible. I've made an update. I won't even apologize this time because it's just disrespectful to you guys. I did update a little sooner though. XD Anyway, this is the second chapter, and I think it's quite lovely and long. Lots of interesting stuff happens. It took me FOREVER to get the ideas all sorted out and set up though, goodness... And please ignore my skimming over the whole "Voldemort" problem. XDDDD And, yeah. It's 3:30 in the morning and I can't think straight. XD

The sun had already been up for an hour when Ron could no longer stand lying in bed staring at his canopy before he threw open the curtains and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, careful to keep his feet perched on the bed frame to avoid the cold floor as he groped under the bed with one hand, trying to find his slippers. When he found them, he slipped them on and grabbed his bathrobe, and shrugged it on before shuffling out of the dorm room.

Down in the common room, a smallish fire was burning in the fireplace. Ron chose the couch nearest it and sat down, pulling his legs up and stared into the fire. He remained that way for a while, not really thinking about anything at all, his mind a blissfully exhausted blank slate. At least his exhaustion was good for one thing. He was too tired to really concentrate on worrying over Hermione anymore.

A chill washed over him and he curled into himself, wincing as a sharp pain briefly shot up his arms in thin lines and up into his neck where it sparked a brief, almost blinding pain through his skull before it vanished, almost as if it had never happened. Ron sucked in a breath through his teeth, clutching his head in his hands. He had gotten used to the random and sudden bursts of pain, or at least as much as was possible. The first time though--the first time when the pain had struck, he had thrown himself from a chair, screaming and clawing at his head, it had been so shocking. His mother and father had panicked, immediately rushing him to St. Mungo's. He had been terrified. But the Healer explained that sometimes magical scars did that sort of thing and Ron would be perfectly all right, other than having to deal with a moment's pain every so often. It had been disturbing and reassuring all at once. He had also suddenly and horrifyingly understood what Harry often felt.

After a taking a deep breath he sat up and tentatively pulled one arm out of his robes and rolled up the sleeve, peering at the dark pink slashes that laced his arm, reminders of that horrible night in the Ministry. He grimaced, remembering, and pulled down his sleeve again. Harry had recovered immeasurably since that time with his and Hermione's help, as well as the Weasley family, Lupin, and a number of other people who had helped him deal with the horrors in his life. Every so often, Ron caught a glimpse of a scared, almost empty Harry, but with either a quick chat or a joke that Harry never stayed long.

You-Know-Who had been almost terrifyingly quiet over the last two years. There had been some serious shifts in the wizarding world, and sides had been chosen, but aside from a few sparse killings, things had been deceptively smooth. Many of those in the Order speculated that You-Know-Who was simply lurking in the shadows, waiting until he felt as though he knew Harry and Dumbledore's moves well enough to try a full-frontal attack. But it was still only speculation. Even Dumbledore was rather clueless and terribly uncertain. He refused to let You-Know-Who ruin school life, however. This was precisely why Quidditch and the Hogsmeade trips were still operational, despite protests. They were far more heavily guarded however, than in previous years and students were severely punished for disobeying rules.

Ron shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts. He loathed thinking about the war and much of what was associated with it. It terrified him. There was the sudden quiet slap of slippers descending from one of the staircases and Ron turned to see who else was up at this ungodly hour on Gryffindor's lesson free Friday. It was Ginny who descended the stairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes sleepily. When she spotted Ron her eyebrows went up in an expression of surprise.

"Oh, Ron! I didn't think anyone would be up," she said, moving to the sofa and sitting beside him, tucking her legs beneath her.

Ron nodded. "I know. Me neither. I didn't sleep last night though and I got right tired of staring up at the lint on my bed clothes."

Ginny smiled, but looked at him in concern. "I just woke up. Not sure why. Ron, are you really that worried about this whole situation?" She reached over, gently squeezing his hand.

Ron turned scarlet and stared down at her hand. After a short silence, he shrugged awkwardly. "I…I like her, Gin."

Ginny couldn't help but smirk. "Really? I had no idea."

Ron looked up, his expression harassed.

Ginny grinned, "I couldn't resist."

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled. There was a brief silence before he burst, "Merlin, what am I supposed to do!"

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "Well, Ron, what you should do is ask Hermione to go with you to Hogsmeade."

"But—"

"Ron, the worst that's going to happen is Hermione will say something like, 'Oh, Ron, but we've so much work to do!' and you'll have to convince her to put them down for a couple of hours," she said.

Ron couldn't stop a small smile. Even if he did ask her, that would probably be half the battle.

"Honestly, Ron, you should ask her," Ginny said earnestly.

"Ask who what?"

Ron turned sharply, nearly giving himself whiplash, his face paling. Hermione smiled back at him. She was already dressed, her hair neatly clipped back. Well, neatly for her anyway. "You two are up early," she said cheerfully, sitting down beside Ron. He continued staring at her in terror. She looked between the two of them. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Ginny grinned. "Oh no, not at all. I was just going to shower." She got up, and, flashing a smile at Ron, who was staring at her in shock, trotted up the stairs.

Hermione watched her go and then sat back and looked at Ron. "So who were you talking about?"

"Oh, er, no one…" he muttered, his ears turning red. "Just, er, something about Mum." Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!

"Oh, all right then." She smiled warmly. Ron flushed and there was a long silence when her gaze dropped to his pajamas and she smiled, reaching over and folding the collar down. Ron's flush darkened and his voice seemed to vanish. "These are nice. I don't remember them. Are they new?"

He nodded numbly. "Bill—my birthday—" he croaked.

"Oh, that was nice of him." She paused and then tilted her head looking at him as though he were a problem she couldn't quite find the solution to. "Ron, you're acting very strangely lately, are you sure you're all right?"

He squeaked and nodded. "Just feeling a bit off," he muttered, I'll be fine!"

She nodded and let it go, "All right, let me know if you need something though, okay?"

He nodded again, the tension in his chest lessening slightly as she leaned back and closed her eyes. "I will, Hermione. I promise." She smiled.

"Good."

They lapsed into silence again and Ron fidgeted anxiously with the tie of his robe. He was uncomfortably aware of how close she was, and how easy it would be just to blurt it out and get it over with. 'Come on. Just ask her! Ginny's right! Just do it! Come on Weasley! Open your big, dumb mouth and ask!'

His mouth opened obediently, but instead of, "Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me? Pretty please?" coming out, instead he said, "So, do you suppose Harry will sleep all day?"

Hermione opened her eyes, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and amusement. "Ron, don't you think you would know about that better than I?"

He blushed. "Er…right. Yeah." Doomed. He was completely and utterly doomed.

Speaking of the devil, however, Harry chose that awkward moment to come shuffling downstairs, still yawning widely. His hair was mussed, and his pajamas were askew, but he looked relatively rested, comparatively. He smiled groggily at Hermione and Ron and plopped down on Hermione's right, mumbling, "G'morning."

Hermione smiled at him and pointed at his collar. "Harry, fix it, please." He grinned and proceeded to flip the other side up as well, just to exasperate her. It worked like a charm. She frowned and said impatiently, "Oh, Harry." She chose to ignore his smart aleck-ness however, and turned to Ron. "It appears that your question has been answered."

Ron grinned feebly and nodded. "So it seems."

"What question?" Harry asked curiously, smirking in amusement when he saw Hermione's fingers twitching anxiously as she glanced not-so-furtively at his collar.

"I just was wondering if you'd get up today at all. Sometimes we don't see you on Fridays," he said, smiling teasingly.

Harry made a face at him. "Oh shut up. I get tired."

Hermione looked at him warmly and gently squeezed his hand. "Of course, Harry. You're perfectly entitled to a good day of sleeping when you need it."

Harry could see the gloom and the jealousy rise up in the back of Ron's eyes when Hermione's hand touched his and he nodded quickly, smiling. "Thanks, Hermione." She pulled away, and Harry caught Ron's gaze apologetically. Ron merely blushed and huffed lightly. Ginny reentered the room at that point, skipping over to the couch and gracefully shoving both Hermione and Harry over as she sat between them, her hair still wet and fragrant from her shower. Harry looked amused as she winked at him when Ron paled as Hermione was pressed up next to him.

"Oh, honestly, Ginny! Some warning would be welcome!" Hermione complained halfheartedly, blushing and trying to maintain composure.

Ginny grinned. "Whoops." The conversation broke for a few minutes and the four of them simply stared around the room absently until Ron tentatively started a new conversation with some familiar ground.

"So why aren't you studying Hermione? You're not finished are you?" he asked.

Hermione sniffed delicately and replied, "As a matter of fact, I am."

The three others proceeded to look stunned. "You're joking!" Harry cried.

Hermione smoothed out her robes. "Of course not."

"Blimey, Hermione, that's mad!" Ron muttered, staring at her wide-eyed.

"And you're not studying for N.E.W.T.s? I'm gobsmacked," Ginny said.

"Well, it is our day off…" she said, her tone slightly indignant.

Harry grinned, "Aw, we're just joking, Hermione, don't get upset."

"I wasn't!"

"Oh, please. Hermione, we can see you getting defensive a mile away," Ron said rolling his eyes.

"I do not!"

And so the conversation continued, stretching along this tangent for a long time. Things slowly returned to relative normalcy and Ron's mind was (almost) blissfully clear of the looming ultimatum.

A few hours later, after breakfast, when Ginny had headed off to be with her friends from her year (or so Ron assumed anyway), Harry had vanished mysteriously once again, and Hermione had succumbed to the draw of a novel, Ron headed out onto the snowy grounds to think.

When he had reached the tree near the lake, Ron lifted his mittened hands to his mouth and blew on them to try and warm them. His nose was already freezing, but this was the best place to be alone.

"Okay. This is no big deal, Weasley," he said, trying to give himself a pep talk. So far, he was failing. Miserably. "All you've got to do is figure out how to ask her." He sighed, his breath going out in a puff of condensation. Then he looked out at the lake and said casually, "You wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?" Then he grimaced and waved a hand dismissively. "Ugh, that's terrible." He raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed them briefly before looking out at the lake again and holding out his hands imploringly. "Hermione, I'd really like to go to Hogsmeade with you." He paused and then groaned again.

"I sound like a complete pansy! Hermione's going to think I'm a complete idiot." He paused and then said dryly, "Oh wait, she already does. This is hopeless!" He sat down with a WHOOMP in the powdery snow and covered his face with his hands, half out of misery and half to try and warm his frozen nose. After a minute or two of wallowing in his self pity, he looked up and muttered resolutely, "I have to do this. Somehow I've got to do it." He heaved a smoky sigh and got to his feet once again and began pacing.

"Okay, so I need to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with me, without inferring that Harry should come along, without making a fool of myself, and while hinting that I like her. A lot.

"Oh, good grief! No one can do that all in a sentence or two!" he cried, pressing his hands to his poor aching skull. Maybe Hermione was right when she described him as having the emotional and mental depth of a teaspoon. "I'm in trouble…" He took a deep breath and turned back towards the lake, starting composedly, "Hermione, I'd really like it if you would go to Hogsmeade with me. If we could have some—"

"Oh, Hermione!" a voice squealed. "I love you, won't you go to Hogsmeade and snog with me!" There was an uproar of laughter.

Ron blanched, his face quickly turning the color of porridge. Oh bloody hell…

He turned slowly to face the voice and his stomach gave a sickening lurch as he met eyes with a wickedly smirking Draco Malfoy and several Slytherins, who were still laughing loudly.

"What, Weasel? Trying to come up with a pick-up line to make the mudblood go out with you?"

"Don't call her that," Ron said quietly, his ears and cheeks burning red. Malfoy might be able to get away with ripping into he and Harry, but he'd be damned if he let the slimy git call Hermione dirty.

"I've got one for you, Weasel. 'Oi, come and ride my broom, won't you, Granger?'" he said loudly and his followers burst into even more raucous laughter.

"I said shut up," Ron grit, his fists clenching furiously in his mittens.

Draco's eyes glittered malevolently. "You and Granger would be perfect together, Weasel. The mudblood and the most pathetic member of the most pathetic wizarding family in the wo—OOF!"

Ron was on top of Malfoy before he even knew what had happened, a furious roar tearing from his throat. They hit the ground, hard, and Malfoy's breath rushed out in a whoosh as he stared up at Ron in shock. Ron's temper flared again as he looked down at the lousy, greasy, scumbag beneath him and he began pummeling him for all he was worth. He got in several vicious punches before one of Draco's cronies finally reacted and smashed a fist into the side of his jaw, sending him sprawling into the snow, his jaw aching and blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Malfoy managed to finally catch his breath and he howled, "What are you waiting for you imbeciles! Get him!"

The first blow was a snow boot to his ribs and after that, there were so many hits that Ron couldn't feel them individually. After what felt like an eternity, Malfoy seemed to decide that Ron had gotten the message and, just for good measure, he spat on Ron's face before leading the gang away.

It was several minutes before Ron even budged, his body ached everywhere, and sharp pains kept exploding in his ribcage. The cold snow felt good on his hot, battered face for a few minutes, but it soon became biting and painful. He finally pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain. There was a large, bright red spot where his head had been lying, and now that he sat up, he felt a warm trickle trailing down the side of his face. Blimey, he was an idiot… He brushed a bit of snow off of his cheek, wincing as he touched a tender, swollen area and then began to stand, cringing as his ribs gave a sharp protest. Once on his feet, he leaned against the tree as pain coursed through him and wondered dimly if he should just lie down again and die here. It would stop both the pain and his Hermione problem.

Speaking of which, oh Merlin, now Malfoy knew. He was definitely screwed. Hermione would know within the hour. Knowing that his doom was inevitable made him somehow cheerier, and he headed up to the castle slowly, trying to ignore his various aches and pains.

He managed to make it back to the Gryffindor common room without having to deal with more than a few terrified looks from some of the first years. When he crawled into the commons, however, it was only seconds before someone noticed. That someone happened to be Seamus, whose eyes widened, a mug of hot tea smashing on the stones at his feet.

"Blimey, Ron!" he cried. "What happened to you?" Other eyes were fixed upon him in an instant as Seamus pulled him over to the couch.

Ginny appeared next, looking torn between horror and annoyance, "Ronald, what have you been doing!"

"Did you have a go with the Whomping Willow?" Harry asked, marveling at the blood drying on Ron's face.

"Ron! You didn't get in a fight, did you?" Hermione demanded, looking irritated.

Ron immediately got defensive. "So what if I did?"

"Oh, Ron, you know better than to fight with Draco Malfoy!" she chastised.

"Hey, I was defending your honor!"

Hermione blushed slightly and merely said, "Oh Ron…"

"Boy, Ron, Malfoy sure did some work on you…" Dean commented.

Ron bristled. "It wasn't just Malfoy! It was him and that pack of Slytherin goons always following him around."

"Did you at least get a good hit in?" Ginny asked, exasperated.

Ron managed to grin, looking quite proud of himself. "He'll have two very lovely raccoon eyes if he doesn't see Madam Pomfrey, that's for sure."

Ginny grinned and rolled her eyes. "Well, that's something I suppose. Speaking Madam Pomfrey, you look terrible. You had best get down there."

"Aw, I don't need that old bat," Ron said dismissively and began to stand. A sharp pain tearing through his ribs quickly put an end to that, however, and he cursed, sitting back down. Ginny rolled her eyes again and Hermione sighed.

"Oh, honestly, Ron. Come on, I'll take you."

Before he could protest, she had put an arm through his and helped him to his feet. He glanced back at the others in terror as they started through the portrait hole and Harry simply grinned and Seamus shot him a thumbs-up.

In the hall, Ron couldn't believe his rotten luck. Malfoy had failed him. And while it wasn't hard to believe, it was even worse because his best friends had simply tossed him to the lion!

On the other hand, he was alone with Hermione, and that had been the whole point of going out in the freezing cold to rehearse. But then again, he hadn't come up with anything good. Dammit!

In the end, it was Hermione who spoke first. "I appreciate what you did, Ron," she said quietly.

"Huh?" Ron broke from his thoughts to look at her blankly.

She blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear before saying, "I said, I appreciate you standing up for me. That was very noble of you. Stupid, yes, but noble."

Ron's expression soured. "Oh, thanks for that Hermione."

She blushed even more darkly and looked at him quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just—I don't want you getting hurt like this Ron."

Ron softened into a light sulk. "Yeah, well…"

Hermione smiled and shook her head.

There was another brief silence and Ron glanced at her, considering. She was really quite nice. Maybe she wouldn't laugh. "Hermione—"

"Here we are!"

Merlin's beard.

"Mister Weasley!"

He sighed. Here it came…

"What on earth have you been doing!"

"Just—don't ask," he muttered and she frowned, but quickly dragged him off and began working on his various injuries.

It wasn't until two hours later that Madam Pomfrey finally gave him a clean bill of health and let him leave the Hospital Wing with a warning that the next time she would be alerting his head of house.

So Ron ventured out, debating whether or not he wanted to seek Hermione out and attempt to ask her again, or if he just wanted to go and hide like a coward. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how he was thinking about it at the moment, he was intercepted by Snape who had a nicely bruised Draco Malfoy tailing behind him pathetically. That couldn't be good. Snape narrowed his eyes at him and said derisively, "Mr. Weasley. I believe you and I have a problem."

Ron tried to look confused. "A problem, sir?"

"Mr. Malfoy tells me that you are responsible for this," he said scathingly.

Ron couldn't think of a response that wouldn't either get him in more trouble, or just irritate Snape even further.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Snape muttered. "I have taken twenty five points from Gryffindor and you have three nights' detention to be served tonight, tomorrow, and the next day. I expect you at eight o'clock sharp. That is all, Mr. Weasley." He and Malfoy swept past, Malfoy grinning evilly and Ron grit his teeth to keep from doing something he would regret. Bloody Malfoy. That was fifty points in two days now! Boy were his classmates going to be annoyed…

Sighing irritably, Ron started back towards the Gryffindor common room to look for Harry, in order to rant about his lousy luck. When he arrived, however, instead of being able to go and gripe about Snape with Harry, he was met with two girly squeals and Lavender and Parvati latched onto either of his arms, dragging him over to a chair by the fireplace. "So, tell us EVERYTHING!" Lavender gushed, clutching his and looking sparkly eyed at him.

Ron stared blankly at her. "All what?" These two were nutters. Absolutely nutters.

"About how you asked her!"

Ron's face turned red. "Who told you that!"

The two girls exchanged a glance. "No one. We just assumed since you were alone and vulnerable it would have been the perfect chance…"

Ron made a face, feeling humiliated. Way to muck it up, Weasley, he thought. Finally he said shortly, "Well, I didn't."

Lavender and Parvati looked horrified. "Oh, Ron! How could you waste an opportunity like that!" Parvati cried.

Now he began to get irritated. Enough pointing out of his every flaw! "It's not that easy!" he said defensively.

"Of course not, Ron," Lavender said sympathetically.

"But you've got to ask her in specific conditions so that you can mystify her with your charm," Parvati said, her tone going rather melodramatic.

"There are conditions?" Ron said, perplexed.

"Of course there are! There are optimal conditions in which you should ask a girl to do anything with you which always raise the chances that she'll agree!" Parvati said, sounding as though she couldn't believe he hadn't been let in on these tricks of the trade.

"And going to the Hospital Wing is one of them?" he said, now thoroughly confused. How was that romantic in the least?

"Absolutely!" Lavender exclaimed. "Girls LOVE a boy in distress. Especially ones that they like! They're immediately prone to submitting to the boy's requests because they want to help him feel better!"

"They do?"

"Trust us, Ron," Parvati said reassuringly. "We know what we're talking about."

"All right, here's what you need to look for, Ron. If she's alone, or you can get her that way, that's number one. No girl wants to feel pressured or like everyone is seeing what's going on." Ron nodded, trying to sear the information in his brain. This could be really useful.

"Number two: Don't just stammer at her. She won't get it (trust us). Make sure you have something to say or she'll totally bail on you." Ron cringed. That one was going to be trouble.

"Number three: Don't do it somewhere weird—like the dungeon or the Great Hall. Ask her somewhere nice, and romantic, like when you're taking a walk on the snowy grounds or—"

"In front of the fire together or—"

"When she's helping you or—"

"Up in the Astronomy Tower overlooking the grounds—"

"You get the point."

Ron's head spun. This was going to be even more complicated than he had originally imagined.

"Number four: Do something sweet. Give her candy or flowers or…well, I don't know, something Hermione would like." Oh…maybe books?

"Ooh, and don't forget, a little distress goes a long way. If you're sick, or injured, or if you need help, use that!" Manipulation…okay, he could do that.

"And consider her mood! Don't ask if she's really busy, or angry, or sad, or irritated." When did that leave a chance to ask her then!

"Just remember," Lavender said seriously, "Even a girl like Hermione likes to be swept off of her feet." She put her hand to her mouth and began to look teary-eyed and Ron looked at her in alarm. What the hell had brought that on! "Oh, Ron! This is just so cuuuuuuute!" Both girls lunged at him, wrapping their arms around his neck and wailing something about how adorable and pathetic he was. Ron was flabbergasted. He was just beginning to try prying them off when the portrait hole swung open and Hermione crawled through, pulling along several large books. Oh no. This was bad.

"Guys, gerroff!" he hissed, "Hermione!"

The girls were still too busy fawning, however, and when Hermione turned, they were still clinging to Ron. He instantaneously turned a bright shade of red and took on the look of a deer in headlights. Hermione stiffened almost imperceptibly, and clutched her books more tightly, staring for a moment before turning away in a very dignified manner and pretending that she hadn't seen a thing as she marched up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Well, blast…

"Gerroff!" he said irritably and gave the two girls a hefty push.

They looked at him, injured.

"What's gotten into you?" Parvati asked poutily.

Ron glowered. "Hermione just walked through and saw you two being all…mushy…all over me."

Parvati and Lavender exchanged a glance, one hand going to their mouths. "Ooohhh…"

"Yeah, 'ooohhh' is right," Ron muttered. "Now she probably thinks I'm some pervert or something!"

"That is a problem. Well, I suppose you'll just have to be extra charming!" Lavender said. "We've got to go, see you!"

"Bye, Ron!"

And with that, she and Parvati flounced off, leaving Ron to stare after them, completely confounded. They had just…abandoned him! And after causing all that trouble…!

He growled and chucked a pillow at the other end of the couch petulantly. Who knew about girls, honestly…

Not long after his enlightening conversation with the over exuberant, femininity oozing, roommates of Hermione, Ron finally managed to find Harry, who (though Ron didn't notice) was a bit out of breath and looked a little more flustered than usual. He proceeded to rant about the simply wretched day he had been having, with Harry providing a somewhat distracted listening partner.

"Can you believe that?" he finally concluded as they headed down to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Mmmm…" was Harry's cursory reply and when Ron looked at him to see what sort of reply that was, he frowned upon seeing the vacant look in Harry's eyes.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" he demanded.

"Mmm. Mmm…" Harry replied absently in a negative sort of way. Ron's eyes narrowed.

"Harry?"

"You don't say…"

Oh brother. He wasn't even trying any more. "Harry, I thought I should let you know, I'm not going to ask Hermione anymore, I really want to ask Snape to go with me to Hogsmeade," he said gravely.

Harry's automatic response came, and then something seemed to have leaked into his brain because he looked up, his expression revolted, exclaiming, "What?" And then he flushed, catching sight of Ron's face.

"It was nice of you to listen to me when I needed you, Harry," he said wryly.

The flush spread even further. "Sorry, Ron. I've got something on my mind…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, I hadn't noticed."

Harry looked sufficiently put in his place. "Sorry, mate. Really I am. What were you saying?"

Ron waved it off sighing. "Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter anyway."

Harry looked embarrassed, but let the subject go anyway. Dinner passed without any major disruptions or unconformities, especially since Ron was now aware of the Girl's Guide to Asking A Female Out And Getting the Answer You Want and he knew that even if he thought of the most brilliant monologue to woo Hermione with, in the Great Hall in front of the entire school was not the place for it. And so, he relaxed and, to be honest, everyone was secretly pleased to have things a little bit more like normal. A wigged out Ron made things a little hairy at times.

After dinner, when Harry volunteered to play chess with him, Ron assumed it was his way of trying to further apologize for not listening earlier. But whatever his motivations, Ron wasn't one to turn down a good chess match. Well, an okay chess match anyway…Harry was still terrible at the game.

"Oh, blimey, Ron! Why'd you do that!" Harry cried as Ron's knight smugly eliminated his queen. "I don't even know why I play with you, I never win."

Ron grinned. "You can't be good at everything."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, I feel loads better now. Thanks for that."

Ron laughed. "You offered to play!"

Harry glared sulkily at the board, "I know, I must have been mad to have done it…" He moved one of his two remaining pawns and Ron had to struggle to keep a straight face. Ouch. Well, that finished the game then. He picked up his rook, and smirking placed it in the empty square. "Checkmate."

"What!" Harry sat up abruptly, gaping at the board. "No way! Oh, for the love of—"

Ron grinned, "You were trounced, my friend. Soundly trounced."

Harry glared. "Oh, shut up, you smug git."

Ron's grin only broadened. Nearby, Ginny added, "You know, I think that may have been the worst played game I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot of them."

Harry turned to gape at Ginny. "It's a conspiracy!"

Ginny grinned at him. "Admit it Harry. That was an awful game."

"Yes, but we don't have to broadcast it for all the world to hear," he replied peevishly.

"Blimey, it's almost eight!" Ron cried suddenly, realizing the time. "I've got to go!"

Harry stared at him blankly. "Go? Go where?"

"To detention. With Snape that greasy git… Oh, that's right, you were somewhere off in La La Land when I told you," he said, giving Harry a playful, but accusational glare.

Harry had the decency to flush slightly. "Oh, well, then see you in the morning," he said clumsily.

Ron rolled his eyes and lifted a hand in farewell. "See you."

"Bye Ron!" Ginny called, and he grunted before disappearing out the portrait hole.

The corridors were completely deserted as he made his way to the dungeons to serve the first detention with Snape. What a terrific git he was. Malfoy too. Malfoy especially. Bloody pansy, waiting until he had gone to the Hospital Wing so he could pin the fight on him. He shivered as the first icy draft from the dungeons swept over him. Bloody git. He'd forgotten his cloak; he was bound to be frozen into a Ron-cicle before the detention was half through. The dungeons were brutal in winter. Ron assumed the only way the Slytherins even survived was because their blood was already frozen over, along with their ruddy hearts, and it didn't make any difference how cold it got.

Sighing heavily, Ron rapped on the door of the Potions classroom.

Seconds later, the door swung open and Snape glowered down at him. "Mister Weasley. Right on time," he said sourly.

Ron's temper flared and he thought bitterly, The git wanted me to be late, just so he could take off more points! "Yes, sir," he grit.

"Come with me."

Ron followed after him, imagining all of the possible ways he could murder him. Beheading, stabbing, poisoning… Snape led him into the back storage cupboard before whirling around and narrowing his eyes. Ron couldn't stop a flinch. Damned mad old—

"You will be scouring these flasks. They must be scrubbed inside and out in both of these solutions before being rinsed in this water. Do it correctly the first time, Mister Weasley, won't you?"

Ron gawked at the enormous cauldron at the back of the cupboard. It stretched from shelf to shelf and there were flasks piled to overflowing within it. "Tonight?" he said incredulously.

Snape's lip curled. "Yes. Tonight."

Ron stared at the cauldron in dismay as Snape swept past him. This would take him all bloody night!

He sighed heavily and sat down on the small stool provided and set to work.

Scrubbing the flasks proved to be as tedious as he had initially thought. It was bloody freezing down here, and dipping his hands in the various solutions constantly left them frozen to the point of barely operating. The second fluid was particularly nasty because after the first two or three times, his hands had begun burning viciously with every submersion, and they were now red and raw. Unfortunately, his lack of sleep had also caught up with him and he was working slower than ever, only three hours into the detention and having hardly even made a dent in the pile of flasks. His head began dipping down, his hands slowly going limp and just before plunging headfirst into the first solution, he jerked back up, muttering furiously under his breath and trying to force his eyes as wide open as possible. Four-poster…soft…His eyes dropped shut and his body began sagging once again, but before the solutions could be made a concern, the flask currently clutched in his left hand slipped from his grip and shattered on the floor. Ron immediately jerked, upsetting the stool and he cried out, barely managing his feet before the stool toppled backwards, and in the process of scrambling around, his gangly limbs flailing, one foot hit the center bucket and it was heaved over, sloshing the red-violet solution across the stone floor. Ron leaned against the shelving behind him as the liquid lapped against the soles of his shoes, cursing furiously, even as his weary eyes began trying to force their way shut again. He was just beginning to gain his balance back when the door slammed open and Snape appeared, looking quite irritated.

"Mister Weasley! What have you done? Can't I even leave you a simple task and expect it to be done without a disaster of epic proportions occurring?" he demanded.

A dull burn started in Ron's chest at the comment, but he couldn't summon up the energy to become properly angry, let alone explain himself. "Accident…" he slurred wearily.

Snape narrowed his eyes at him furiously. "Go and get some sleep, Mister Weasley, I will not tolerate this for your further detentions, and there will be an extra added on for your foolishness tonight!" he hissed silkily.

Ron barely comprehended the last part of the potions master's reprimand, but he understood well enough that he was free to go and he quickly stumbled past Snape, before he could change his mind. As he slipped out of the classroom, he could hear Snape muttering furiously to himself about stupid children.

Ron stumbled a number of times as he made his way back up to the Gryffindor commons. He could barely see straight now, he was so exhausted. It was amazing what two nights without sleep could do to you…

Harry called out a surprised greeting as he stumbled into the common room, but Ron's mind was on a singular track for his four-poster bed and he didn't even bother to reply, dragging himself up the doom room stairs and collapsing onto his bed, still fully dressed. He was gone just a moment later, sleep overtaking him swiftly.

Woot. Story-ness.