Chapter Three

Hermione stared at him in shock.

"Y-you?" she stammered.

"Yeah," said Ron, "but the potion didn't work. I wonder…" he trailed off, as realization hit him.

"You hate me," he said dazedly.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's right." Ron pulled the scrap of parchment he had copied the potions instructions on from his pocket. "It says, please note that the potion has its limits, and will not work if the person which you are giving it to has abnormally feelings of hatred towards you! You hate me, Hermione. How could you hate me when I never did anything but lo—" he stopped abruptly, not meeting her eyes.

"Ron," Hermione said slowly, "you great prat. Did you or did you not read the entire potion recipe?"

"Huh?"

Hermione sighed, impatiently brushing her bushy brown hair out of her eyes. "The recipe," she repeated, "did you read the whole thing?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Why?" he asked. "Was it … er… important, if I say, hypothetically didn't?"

"Ron," Hermione said, narrowing her eyebrows, "first can you explain why you'd make me a love potion for you?"

Ron's ears flamed. So this was it. The moment of truth.

"I might…maybe…kind of…sort of…really…love you…" he said, feeling his insides squirm with his confession.

Hermione's gaze softened with his words.

"I see," she said, her face glowing with – was it happiness?

"D'youlimebk?" Ron asked in a great rush.

"I…well…what?"

"I said, do—you—like—me—back?"

"If you can reread the potion recipe – the whole –thing – you'll know the answer, Ron."

Ron, his heart still pounding from his confession, dashed back into the castle to find the book from which he had copied the potion.