(Disclaimer: I am not Rowling. All characters and material surrounding the Harry Potter series mentioned are hers, not mine. This is not for profit, only entertainment. Enjoy, review, share, etc…but especially review. Thanks for lending a voice, Rowling.)

Enjoy.

Think about it. Harry Potter wants me to just "think about it".

I've thought.

I've thought.

And I even thought some more.

They want me to tell him. Gin's reason is sensible. And I hate to think like this, but Harry's is a little more suspicious. He may have some ulterior motive.

Like finally being with Ron, perhaps?

Oh, who am I kidding? Gin's right. So is Harry. Ronald has a right to know. And I need to be the one to tell him. Before someone else does or, just as horribly, Gin tells him.

What have you gotten yourself into now, Hermione?

Shut up, conscience. No one asked you.

I send a flying origami crane to Ron during potions. Today's potion was a rather simple love potion, in the spirit of Valentine's Day; either that, or Slughorn is feeling particularly lazy today.

My note is simple:

Prefect's bathroom, 9 p.m. sharp. I need to talk to you.

Ron snatches the crane out of the air and unfolds it with a scowl. The last time he was sent a crane, it exploded in his face, courtesy of a one, Draco Malfoy. I watch him read my note and I gauge his reaction from out of the corner of my eye.

He smiles. Damn it. This is going to be difficult. He was not supposed to smile. I focus my attention onto getting the attention of Professor Slughorn. Being a know-it-all has its quirks.

I get to leave class early because I already finished brewing my potion.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"I finished brewing my potion, professor. May I be excused?"

"Of course, Ms. Granger. Deposit it in some vials, cork them, and bring them to my desk for a grade. Afterward, you may leave. 10 points to Gryffindor for finishing early." His smile is bothersome, but I am grateful for the points.

I clean my desk with a wave of my wand. The vials, with samples of my potion appear at his desk with another wave. Slughorn's eyebrows rise so high that they look as though they'll crawl off his scalp any moment.

"See here, students!" he says loudly. "That is how you hand in an assignment. Take note. You may need to do that for extra points someday."

I pack my bag and rush out of the dungeons with the hope that Ron isn't staring at my flushed cheeks.

At exactly 9:01, a lone redheaded figure makes its way into the bath salts scented bathroom. Typical.

This is not, of course, the same redhead that has been the center of my life for years.

No, this is the older brother. A swish of his robes brings the scent of grass, polished wood, and leather. My heart is now in my throat and is trying to shove past my epiglottis. Maybe my uvula will slow it down, as I have no tonsils to block its path.

"Ronald," I say. I'm surprised I said an entire word. Wow.

He grunts and sits on a bench by the sinks in the middle of the room.

"Oh, so you do know my name. Caught on, have you?" he borderline spits at me.

I swallow. My saliva shoves my beating heart out of the way.

"Yes, I know your name. I haven't forgotten."

"You're funny, you are." He pauses and snorts. "You've been ignoring me all this time, not letting me touch you."

I take a good look at him. His irises are a dark blue; Bluer than they have ever been. His lower lids carry bags and dark rings. He hasn't been sleeping. His nose has a dirt smudge on the side. He hasn't been washing, either.

His lips are raw and a little swollen from chewing. He's been crying a lot. His hair is wild. He hasn't seen a comb in days. His thumb is bleeding a little. When his lips got too raw to chew, he started on his thumb.

"What is it you want to tell me, Hermione? I haven't had a shower. Came here straight from practice."

Liar. Harry and Ginny told me there wouldn't be practice tonight.

"Better yet: Start with telling me what I did wrong." His blue eyes plead with me.

His blue eyes search me. They search for something—any indication that any of this is his fault. I feel wrong. I feel like a bitch. He deserves better than this; better than me. And here I am about to crush his heart. I should have done this a long time before.

None of this mattered, then.

"Ronald—," I watch him cringe. "Ron."

His eyes fall to the floor.

"Ron, look at me."

He doesn't.

"It's not you, Ron. It's me."

He grunts. "Well that's apparent."

I take a deep breath to steady myself. The room won't keep still.

"Are you listening, Ron?"

Another grunt. "Haven't got a choice, do I, Hermione?"

I swallow. "I need to tell you something, Ron."

Here it is: the moment of truth.

"Say you'll take me back."

He says this in a voice barely a decibel above a pin drop.

"I…What?"

"Say you'll take me back." This time I hear him for sure.

This is not the way I thought it would go.

"Say you'll take me back. I'll do anything. I… I love you, Hermione. Don't you know that?"

He is walking towards me now. I have somehow backed myself into a large marble pillar. I have no where to go. He is now standing over me. His blue eyes bore into me.

"Don't you feel that?" he asks.

Feel what? This impending doom? The cold claws of fear snapping shut on my windpipe?

No, I don't feel that at all.

"Feel what?" I whisper.

"This." He lowers his raw, scaly lips to mine and kisses me.

I don't feel anything.

I lied. I feel his gross lips. And the bile rising from my stomach. But beyond that, I feel nothing other than sheer panic. He isn't following the script I wrote for him in my head.

The kiss finally ends. I fight the strong urge to wipe the back of my hand across my face and rid my skin of the atrocities committed upon it.

"Tell me you didn't feel anything, Hermione." His blue eyes plead with my soul, again.

I sigh. "Ron… All I feel is sorry, right now."

I see his soul shatter. He is holding it together for now, though. Here is the moment of truth, take two.

"Why, Hermione? Why don't you feel what I feel?"

I sigh again. I just can't help it. "Ron, I've never felt that way about you."

He steps away from me, as though I have not only grown another head, but it decided to spit acid at him.

This is mean. I know it. This is cruel, I know it. I should have done this a long time ago. I know that, too. But this has to be done now. I want to be able to love Gin: The other redhead.

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" his voice cracks a little.

I can see the tears well up in his eyes. They threaten to fall before mine.

"Answer me!" he bellows. His rage echoes off the walls.

"Ron… I'm in love with Ginny."

(A/N: Ohh! Another cliffhanger! Please review. Reviews make me happy. :) What do you think about this chapter? I'd really like to know.

Feel free to PM me at any time about it or just review. Have I mentioned that you should review? ;) I'll update again as soon as possible.

Feel free to leave suggestions as to how Ron should react or something. Love you all. Thanks to all who have reviewed so far.)