Ron moved between his sheets once more. He was wide awake, and with no real intension of falling asleep. He heard Harry's snoring growing louder while he stared at Hermione's empty bed.

He had returned nights ago and with his return his life went back on track. Harry and him where in the best of terms and that was sincerely priceless, and although Hermione's greeting was not what he had wanted it to be, he felt somehow lucky to be close to her again. The first night he slept like a log, feeling positive that Hermione's anger would fade within a couple of days.

But the couple of days pasted by and Hermione's anger turned into mere indifference. He had handled her indifference in the past and had no pleasant memories of it. Through indifference she had the ability of making him feel like he wasn't there, and he wasn't going to settle for that again.

He stood up from the bunk in a quick move, noticing that Harry moved as well. Quietly, he grabbed his jacket and walked across the tent to make sure he didn't wake his friend while he reached the exit. As the cold air invaded his exposed skin he wrapped his arms over his chest, and tried to bring a little warmth to his body.

Without having to search much his eyes found Hermione, sitting on the ground, resting her back against an old tree, and wrapped in a sweater.

He contemplated her for a moment. She looked still and seemed concentrated, thinking deeply about something. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the ground. He walked towards her in silence, when he reached her he noticed she hadn't heard him come. Breaking the silence was pretty risky considering the situation, but he did it anyway.

"Hermione..."

His voice startled her immediately and she turned back with her wand held high, pointing straight at his head. Ron reacted in a defensive move, knowing that Hermione's wand was one thing he did not want to stand in front of.

"Oh. It's you," she whispered absently, retrieving her wand. "You scared me to death". She turned around again recovering the color of her face and glancing at the same random spot on the grass. Those were the only words that managed to fall off her mouth. She retook her silent treatment, ignoring the presence of Ron behind her.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, already sitting on the floor next to her, and resting his back against the same tree. He could see her face from his position, her eyes were absent, and for a moment he thought she hadn't heard him. She did not answer his question and she did not turn her face to look at him. He felt as if he wasn't there, and for a second he thought he was an outsider looking at a memory, desperate to make contact with it.

They sat still for a few minutes. Hermione did not seem uncomfortable with the silence that was growing between them, but Ron was despairing, he needed words. He thought that if he got up now and left, she wouldn't notice at all. But he did not want to leave, he needed to talk to her, and most of all he needed to hear her talk.

Finally, an absolute silence took over the place, wrapping the leaves, the branches, the ground and the wind. But mostly silence took over the uncomfortable coldness in the night. He stared at her for a while, and watched her breathing slowly. Her head was resting against the old tree, extremely calmed. Her eyes did not wonder, they were fixed still into the night. Not once did she move to look at him. Once again he felt like he was not there.

Indifference had always been her brightest form of punishment, even when she did not perform it consciously. In all the years he had known her when she shouted at him he would simply shout back, when she crossed the line with hard words he would attempt to use even stronger words on her. They were used to fighting and yelling, in public or private, it did not matter to them. Their fights were something that no else was brave enough to get in the middle of. They could disagree for hours, trying to make each other see how wrong the other one was, and they would almost never apologize to each other. But their attention was never parted from the other, fighting only permitted them to look at each other more and to talk to each other closely. So, in all those years, indifference had always been the one thing that really hurt. Even thought he would never admit it out loud he would rather be fighting with her right now than feeling like part of the forest, like one more rock, completely random to her.

It was probably all his fault. He was the one who had to make the first move, he was supposed to tell her the truth. He had the chance to tell her what he felt, why he felt it, the reason he left, and wait for her to get mad at him for his idiotic behavior. He had the chance to blame it all on the locket too, knowing that Harry would back him up. But he didn't, somehow it did not seem like the right thing to do. It wasn't the smart way to act, not with her. Besides, he wasn't ready to see Hermione's face as he told her about the locket, about the effect it had on him, about the fears that grew on him when he was wearing it –especially the ones that concerned her-. He did not think he was ever going to be ready to tell her all that.

"How much longer…are we going to do this?" He dared to ask. All he got from that question was a loud noise from her throat, like a sarcastic laugh, a very irritating one. But he didn't feel like moving and going back to the tent, in spite of the cold night and in spite of her treatment he did not feel like going away.

For a moment he felt like shaking her, to see if at least one word, even a mean one, slipped out of her lips. He remembered Fleur and her advices, and how she made him feel secure a few days ago.

"Listen," he started. "I--I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant--"The minute he heard the words coming out of his mouth he understood how useless they were. There was no point on telling her again how sorry he was. "--And yet…I seem to have a knack for upsetting you."

"Yes, you do," she said, turning her head around, and looking straight at him for the first time that night. It seemed like she had waited to say that small line since he returned. She took a deep but small breath and he feared that she was simply going to ask him to leave her alone.

"Just say something, anything…" He said looking at her.

"You know, Ron…" she said looking away.

"What?"

"We thought you were gone…for good. We didn't think you'd come back."

"I told you why I couldn't come back right away."

"That's not the point!" she said sounding upset, and refusing to look at him again. "We thought—" a sigh escaped her lips, "—I thought I had to put you behind."

Ron froze. He was certainly not expecting that. What was that supposed to mean? Was that an obvious statement that he was supposed to understand? But most important was how much she had succeeded in her attempt of forgetting about him. He gained a little breath to ask the necessary question.

"Well…did you?" He said, almost whispering, leaning closely. She shook her head slowly.

"I tried…" she answered simply provoking a knot in Ron's stomach. "…But…no." She refused to be more specific.

A little smile grew on the side of his lips. He had not felt that hopeful since the day of his return. He felt his arm resting incidentally against hers, noticing how close they were and how she had not moved to avoid his touch.

He felt the urge of touching her more, of grabbing her hand, her face, her hair, anything. For a few seconds he approached her hand with his but stopped half way. Any sudden move could spoil everything. His impulses had always driven him to doing stupid things, so he decided to avoid them all.

"Ron…" She said again after another few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?"

"Ron, if you ever, ever leave again—"

"I won't!" he interrupted, shaking his head. "I won't."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" she said bitterly, shutting her eyes for a moment. He had no real answer, or at least no convincing answer to that question.

"You—you have to. You have to believe me." He searched for her eyes. Once they met again he hoped for that to be enough. After a few seconds she looked down. "I was an idiot. I know that. But you have to believe me…I'm never leaving you again".

His last statement was too firm, coming from Ron's mouth. Hermione raised her head again, frowning, obviously understanding the message of the sentence.

"—you both," he corrected. "I'm never leaving you both again". Hermione looked at him directly. He knew it had been stupid to deny what he had just meant. He was supposed to let her know already. This was probably a good moment, probably the best moment he was going to get. But for some reason he didn't feel brave enough yet. If what she wanted was a reason then he had hundreds of reasons for her to forgive him, but they all involved a great deal of confessions, and he didn't know how she would react to them.

"It's…" He started, gaining her attention once again, along with the sight of her firm eyes. "It's…us."

"What?" She asked frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That it's us! You can't just be mad at me forever, it's pretty pointless." After that last she laughed, and it was sincere, not sarcastic or annoying. It was the same melodious sound that he was so fond of hearing since he could remember.

"That's the best you've got?" She said in a smile. He felt relieved to be part of her smile once again.

"I think that's a pretty good reason," he said brightly. She shook her head but maintained her wonderful smile. She rested her head against the tree again and sighed. Ron allowed himself to think that maybe she felt as relieved as he did.

"Why don't you go inside? I'll watch for the rest of the night," he suggested as he stood up from the ground.

"No, I'm alright," she said firmly, rejecting his small act of gallantry. She tried to cover herself properly with the sweater she was wearing.

He took off his jacket, leaned down as closely to her as possible, and wrapped her back and chest with it. She didn't move away, instead she looked at him silently. He was close enough to feel her breathing. His hands rubbed her shoulders, trying to warm her up but also making him acknowledge that the bounders between her skin and his hands were a shirt, a sweater and now his jacket. She separated her lips for a moment but didn't say a word. Their eyes met firmly, like they had done many times before.

Harry snored louder than ever, and like many times before their concentration broke. Ron leaned back resentfully as he let go of Hermione's shoulders. She grabbed the jacket tightly with her hands, trying to warm herself, or trying to compensate for the absence of Ron's hands.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Are we okay, then?" He asked, his hand hidden in his pockets, trying to seem casual.

"I guess," she answered plainly, demonstrating to be too proud to completely give in.

"Does that mean we are…friends again?" he grinned shyly.

"Don't push it Ron," she said controlling a smile, looking at him in the eyes again.

"Right," he said, feeling free to smile himself. "We'll take it slow, then."

Hermione gave him a firm glance. He felt strangely intimidated, wondering if she was trying to read his thoughts. He managed to maintain his eyes firm on her as well.

"We'll take it slow," she agreed. Ron nodded, smiled and headed back for the tent, where he threw himself on his bed with a relaxed smile playing on his lips, until he calmed himself enough to fall asleep.

--

A/N: The facts are these: If Ron were daring when it comes to declaring his feelings, then it wouldn't really be Ron, and we wouldn't love him as much as we do! Please Review!