A/N - A few of you were a bit sceptical of how Ron so easily told Hermione about Harry's potions book. Which is completely fair and I'm so grateful that you're invested enough to review, so I'll explain my sort-of reasoning.

I think that Ron didn't really care all too much that Harry excelled in potions, especially because of the book. They hadn't yet realised who the Half-blood Prince was, and the matter never seemed to really bother Ron until that point. I suppose that Ron was more bothered about the obsession Harry had with the book, as opposed to the book itself, because he was never bothered about falling behind in Potions. He just found it funny that it bothered Hermione. Both canon and AU

As we know, Ron becomes more... preoccupied in sixth year so I think the book and him just don't really coincide plot-wise. But, I mean, that's my interpretation which could be so wrong in so many peoples' eyes, so I'm sorry if that's the case. And I also apologise if you think I've discredited what you've all said, I have taken it all on board and it will be in my head as I write this and future chapters.

But yeah, just to clear up: when it comes to discussing more serious matters, it was never my intention for Ron to just confide in Hermione with everything. She just assumes he will at the moment, because I suppose she underestimates him.

Also, a couple of you have said I kind of insinuated that Ron wouldn't have gotten on the Quidditch team without Hermione. And I agreeee. I think I was in a rush when I wrote it and I wish I worded my note better because I love Ron, he's by far my favourite character and I'm forever annoyed that they didn't write him as well for the films as he was written in the books. Although Ron would still probably be my fave just from the films.. heck I'm digging myself a whole. I love Ron, and I'm sorry that I sounded like I thought he wasn't good enough without Hermione's interference.

But as I said, thank you so much for your thoughts. If you have any points to make, please don't refrain from telling me. Enjoy x

P.S I put kisses (x) in my ANs and I've only just now really realised that it may only be a British thing. Please educate my small mind, do other parts of the world use kisses?

P.P.S. Thank you so much for reading this whole note. This chapter takes place immediately where the previous one left off. xxx

Chapter 5 - Questions and Answers

Hermione ignored Blaise's judgemental stare. Or, more accurately, she ignored the way it made her briefly feel. It was hard to comprehend, but Hermione was beginning to feel that it wasn't so much who was giving her judgemental stares, but just the fact that they were judgemental at all.

She wasn't doing anything that extreme, by just simply talking to Ron. It wasn't that she was at all looking to make a friendship out of it, so she really didn't pay any mind to the way in which she spoke to him. But what about that first night? Her mind nagged at her, but Hermione ignored it, as she made her way out of Potions.

Before she left the classroom, however, Professor Slughorn called her back.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, trying to sound neutral-toned. Everyone else had left, and Hermione would be vastly unimpressed if she walked in late to her next lesson because of this man.

"I had a thought, that if you're not too busy this evening, you might want to pop down to my office. I found some more photos of your mother that I think you'd find rather interesting," the ever-jovial man proposed.

Despite herself, Hermione was curious about her mother. Her father had religiously taught her that 'mudbloods' didn't deserve the same as purebloods, but he had married her mother, hadn't he? And she was a muggle-born. But, Hermione had always known better than to argue this. Rather surreptitiously, Hermione noted, her father had never weighed in on where half-bloods sat in the hierarchy. But Hermione had always had a feeling that if she was pureblood, herself, that her father would also preach that half-bloods were just as worthless as muggle-borns.

"Okay," she replied.

The professor seemed hardly fazed by her reserved tone. "Brilliant, brilliant. Drop 'round any time," he gushed as he waved her off.

Hermione subtly smiled at the Professor, who she still had reservations about. She still thought it hardly fair that he had obvious favourites in his class. But, if that's what it took, Hermione was sure that she could use that to her own advantage.

The rest of the day passed quite uneventfully. During Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall explained that she decided to implement the inter-house cohesion strategy within her classroom, rather unnecessarily, as Hermione deemed it.

But, it was hardly the end of the world. She was placed next to Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw. Hermione supposed she could fare worse. Daphne, for example, who was sat on a desk not too far away from Hermione, was placed next to Ron, which Hermione thought was quite comical.

Although, by the end of the lesson, Hermione was shocked to witness that Daphne and Ron had obviously become acquainted in the last hour, and were even conversing quite pleasantly with each other by the time they had to pack up and leave.

As the rest of the day passed, the thought was pushed from the fore-front of Hermione's mind. Once the school day had finished, Hermione concluded that it would make the most sense to go and see Professor Slughorn now, in order to find enough time to visit the library before Prefect rounds that night.

"Come in," came the overly-cheery voice of Professor Slughorn. "Ah, Hermione, it's good to see you."

Hermione had to ignore the want to roll her eyes at his exaggeration. They had last seen each other not six hours ago, but she remained presentably polite.

"Please, do sit down," Slughorn gushed, ushering to the free chair behind his desk.

"Thank you, sir," she said as she took the offered seat. As she sat, Hermione looked around the small office. It was nothing special, really, but he hadn't been there long. Hermione wondered if this was the same office he had when he taught here last.

"It's not very big, is it?" Slughorn said conversationally, noticing the way in which Hermione took in her surroundings. "I was hoping for something a bit more spacious, but it'll do," he nattered on, opening and closing drawers as he pulled out old photographs.

"I think it's lovely, sir," Hermione commented. A bit of flattery couldn't hurt, of course.

"Thank you, m'dear," he said, somewhat distractedly as he searched through the collection of photos upon his desk. "Ah!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "This is my favourite of your mum."

Hermione scooted her chair closer to the desk, looking down at the photo that Professor Slughorn had turned around for her. She bit her lip in awe as she studied the old photograph. The colour appeared faded, giving away its age. "It was the first day of her last year," he explained, although Hermione had momentarily forgotten that her teacher was even there.

"I didn't realise how similar we looked," she thought aloud.

"Oh yes, you're quite the image of your mother," he agreed. "I daresay you were quite similar people, as well. She was incredibly clever, like you. She was also incredibly brave, your mother, especially to be a part of the original gang. But of course, I'm sure you know all about that," he prattled on.

But Hermione didn't know all about that. For a moment, she wanted to ask what he meant by the 'original gang', but she found that she didn't want to. What if he was referring to the Death Eaters that participated in the first war? She knew that her father became one when her mother died, but were they both original supporters, anyway?

Even though Hermione knew she should be proud at the thought of both of her parents acting as followers for the Dark Lord at some point in their lives, a part of her hoped that her mum hadn't been. She couldn't imagine that her mother would've been treated very well, what with her muggle-born status.

"You know, I was very shocked to hear about your parents getting married," Slughorn began, interjecting Hermione's line of thought.

"Oh?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, quite. In fact, from what I recall, they very much didn't like each other at school," he continued, as the two of them went through old photos of Hermione's mother at school. None of the other photos were of just her mum; Hermione mused that that would be quite creepy. They were mostly photographs of the original Slug Club, which her mum seemed a very prominent member of.

Hermione did find it odd that her parents seemed to dislike each other when they attended school, but she didn't think too much of it. Things like that happened all the time, where two people who didn't initially like each other became friends, or sometimes more.

Probably unlikely for me and Ron, though, she thought with a smirk.

"Well, thank you, professor, but I really must be going," Hermione said as she glanced up at the old grandfather clock in the corner of his office.

"Of course, of course, I wouldn't like to keep you. Are you coming to my dinner party next week?" he asked as they both stood up.

"Yes, I'm quite looking forward to it," Hermione lied, but didn't want to upset him. She was, for all intents and purposes, quite grateful for the information she learned of her mother in the past half an hour.

The rest of the week continued; the evenings becoming gradually chillier as they transitioned from late summer to early autumn. Hermione would turn seventeen in a week, and she was quite looking forward to being of age in the wizarding world.

Thursday evening had arrived, and Hermione was currently preparing for the night's rounds. The Head Boy had sent out new rotas yesterday at lunch, but the only change made was that each set of Prefects now received a night-off. Hermione and Ron's was on a Wednesday, so she had only had two chances so far to lure any more information from him.

Monday and Tuesday proved unsuccessful. But, on Monday evening, Hermione was too preoccupied with what Slughorn had revealed about her mother. And on Tuesday, she was too busy going over flashcards that she had brought along, in preparation for Wednesday's Herbology exam. Now they were at NEWT level, their teachers had been coming thick and fast with assessments and exams. Rightly so, was Hermione's opinion.

At some point during Tuesday's round, Hermione had nearly walked into a wall, but Ron had veered her away by lightly pulling on her forearm. She didn't thank him, although the small action did distract her from being able to properly focus for the rest of the patrol.

"I'm off to rounds," she announced to Daphne, who was still appearing quite chummy with Ron during Transfiguration. Hermione dismissed the strangeness of it. Daphne was always a flirtatious character, and never usually limited her line of boys to Slytherin. Similarly, she had never expanded said line to Gryffindors, only to Ravenclaws and the odd Hufflepuff.

"Have fun," replied Daphne, rather absently, as she was currently writing an essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione had offered to her best friend that she come and do the essay with her in the library during lunch today, but she had declined. Maybe Daphne and Ron had more in common then she thought, Hermione mused, somewhat exasperatedly.

They were about a quarter of the way through the rounds, when Ron and Hermione had heard laughing from the Astronomy tower. Once they had climbed up, and discovered and punished the culprits (two Hufflepuff girls, who Hermione guessed were in fifth year), Ron had moved to the brattice of the tower, looking boredly up at the night sky.

"That's the first people we've caught this whole year," Ron moaned.

Hermione chuckled incredulously. "It's only the second week of September."

"Still," Ron sighed. "'S'Bloody pointless. There are Aurors around this year anyway, so we're never gonna catch that many people. It's just boring, isn't it?"

Hermione mulled over his words, before an idea sparked within her. "Well… why-why don't we play a game, you know, to pass the time a bit better?"

Ron looked at her almost disbelievingly, before a smile appeared on his face. "Yeah, alright," he said, as they clambered back down to the corridor. "What game do you want to play?"

"Um, well, we don't really know each other very well. So, I think it would be beneficial if we asked some questions back and forth?" she suggested.

"Like twenty questions, then," Ron smirked.

Hermione huffed. "Yes, like twenty questions."

"I'll go first," he volunteered. "Ummm… can you roll your tongue?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at his strange question, but answered nevertheless. "Yes."

"Prove it," he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "Why? It's really not that difficult."

"Because I won't believe you until you do it."

"And? Why am I bothered if you believe me or not?" she challenged, but Ron just looked at her imploringly.

"Okay," she sighed in relent, before sticking her tongue out and curling it.

But Ron just looked at her questioningly. "You're not doing it," he said.

"Yes, I am," she argued.

"No, you're not. Have you really gone your whole life thinking you can do it?" he asked wondrously.

"Really, Ron, don't you think there's more important things to worry about?" She rolled her eyes, again.

He sternly shook his head, pretending to take the matter quite seriously. "No, this is how you do it," he said smugly, before demonstrating his own.

"Yes, and you've also managed to look like quite an idiot whilst doing it, so well done!" she chuckled.

"I reckon you look like the bigger idiot, because you can't even do it," he teased back.

"No, Ron, don't worry; I think you've secured that title, no matter what you can or cannot do with your tongue." Hermione's eyes widened immediately as she realised what she had said. She turned around to find Ron trying to keep in his laugh.

"Don't be so immature," she admonished, yet simultaneously trying to stop a smile from progressing across her own face.

"You're the one who said it!" he retorted through a laugh.

"You knew what I meant," she whined, but he just grinned at her.

Hermione watched as his expression went from cheeky and happy to confused in about a second. She looked behind her, in order to see what had taken him by surprise.

"Blaise? What are you doing?" Stood there, with that same sceptical expression, was Blaise.

"I'm on a walk," he answered simply. Both he and Hermione knew what they'd be talking about right now if the exact subject of that conversation wasn't currently stood beside her.

Ron, of course, was none the wiser. "Well, you're not allowed to just go wandering whenever you fancy," he said.

"What's an oaf like you going to do about it, Weasley?" Blaise snapped.

Ron didn't say anything, but took a few cold steps towards Blaise, his eyes dark with disdain.

Hermione rolled her eyes at both of their dramaticness. She stepped in the small space between them. "Really, it's not that much of an issue. Blaise, just go back to the common room," advised Hermione.

"Are you coming, too?" he asked.

"I- I still have rounds to do," she told him, feeling slightly thrown off by his question.

Blaise shrugged, before stalking off back down the corridor. Ron waited until he was just barely out of sight before speaking again. "Is he stalking you or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she dismissed, although Hermione did find it odd that he was walking around the corridors so late.

"He definitely didn't look too happy, did he?" guffawed Ron. "He had the same look on his face when I spoke to you for about two seconds in Potions," he added, referring to when he had come over and asked Hermione if she was okay.

Hermione bit her lip awkwardly. She knew exactly why Blaise was looking at them like he was, for both of the times. "I think that's just Blaise. I don't think he intends to look particularly unhappy," she weakly reasoned.

"Mm, bet he's lovely to be around," Ron smirked.

"He's not that bad!" she quickly defended.

"Alright," Ron said, surrendering. "What? Are you pair together or something?" he asked.

"No," she quickly answered. The absolute last thing Hermione needed was a rumour going around, sparked by Ron, that she had told him that she and Blaise were together.

"Oh, so he just fancies you, then?" Ron concluded quite casually, as they continued to walk down the empty hallways.

"You're wrong there, too," she rolled her eyes, sinking back to the somewhat normal atmosphere they had adopted before spotting Blaise.

"Don't think so," Ron countered, pausing to lean back against a wall. "Why would he stalk you if he didn't like you?"

"He isn't stalking me," she reiterated.

"Alright, then why else was he walking around that random corridor?" Ron asked, challenging her to provide an excuse.

"He wanted to go for a walk," she said quietly, evoking a scoff from Ron.

He slid down the wall, finally sitting on the ground with his knees bent and feet planted firmly to the floor.

"What are you doing? Come on, we still have the rest of the patrol to do," nagged Hermione, nodding her head behind her.

"I need a break," he yawned. "What?" he asked, noting her sour expression.

"It's impolite to talk while you're mid-yawn."

Ron rolled his eyes, a new grin appearing on his face. "Come on," he said, reaching up to deftly grab her hand, successfully pulling Hermione to the floor.

She allowed herself to kneel down beside him, mostly because she was so taken aback by his touch.

"Fine. But only for a moment," she cautioned.

Ron nodded eagerly, as if he would ever pay attention to what she instructed. "Are we still playing?" he asked.

"Oh." Hermione had nearly forgotten about their game. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Okay, well I think it's your turn."

"Well, I'm definitely not going to ask something as pointless as you did," she began, both of them smirking at each other.

Hermione paused for a moment to properly think. She could go in for the kill, by asking something Harry Potter-related, or just ask him something trivial.

She chose the latter. "Do you really have seven brothers?"

"Five brothers," he amended. "One sister."

"Bet that's fun for her," Hermione chuckled.

"Do you have any siblings?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just me and my dad. My mum passed away when I was one."

"I'm sorry," he said seriously, Hermione was actually quite surprised by the note of sympathy in his voice.

"It's okay. It happened before I can remember," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but it's still your mum, though," Ron consoled. Hermione didn't really know how to react, so she didn't reply.

"Whose turn is it now?" She changed the subject.

"Uhh, yours, I think."

Hermione bit her lip in contemplation. "Can I ask you something a bit intrusive?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, angling his face to look at her.

Hermione didn't join him by turning her face towards his. His eyes were far too striking to look at for too long, it made her feel odd.

"Okay," she began. "You and your family are pure-bloods, right? So, in theory, you could keep yourselves safe during… times like these. Yet, you've always seemed to help Harry Potter. Why?"

Ron looked at her funnily. "What do you mean, 'why'?"

"I'm just saying, it's rather dangerous, especially when you could be as safe as anyone, with your blood status." The air around them became stiflingly awkward.

"Because, I'm his best friend. And, by the way, not his spokesperson. So, if you just wanted to pry about Harry, I'd save your breath," he said, standing up abruptly and walking off.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Okay, so he isn't as open as I had hoped, she thought, before going after him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she hastily said, jogging to catch up with him. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me," he said, looking away from her as she stood in front of him, obstructing his path.

"It's just, you know, I'm surrounded by people who can only think of reasons why Harry's so useless and disposable. It's just interesting to speak to someone who's so far on the other side." She internally congratulated herself on such an excuse, looking up to his eyes, which softened considerably.

Hermione only realised their proximity when she dropped her wrist, and it hit his watch.

She looked at his watch, tentatively pulling his wrist closer to her, to check the time. "Rounds are finished," she said, looking back up at him.

Ron nodded. "Okay. Well, before you go to bed tonight I'd be weary that a wild Blaise Zabini was waiting for you under it."

Hermione tried her best, but she couldn't contain her laugh at what he had said. Ron watched her in amusement.

"Look, she does laugh," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I laugh all the time," she lied. "It's just you wouldn't know, as you're not very funny," she smirked.

Ron exaggeratedly affected affrontement. "I believe you were just laughing at something I had said."

"That's true. It must be quite a proud moment for you."

He nodded keenly, before a silence settled over them. It was in this silence, that Hermione became acutely aware of the fact that she was still holding his wrist.

They were both looking at each other, neither really understanding what was happening.

"Well, we better go. Before we're given a detention," she said softly.

Ron nodded again, which seemed to be the only thing he could do.

"Good night," she said, before trying to subtly let go of his wrist.

"'Night," he replied, and they went their different ways.