Hello, y'all! I still don't own Harry Potter. *sobs hysterically*

Clapping, Mrs. Granger said, "That was beautiful! Is that what you two have been doing down here all this time?" She walked over to the two sweaty friends, beaming.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione replied. "Ron said he wanted to learn a bit more about dance, so I taught this to him."

"She's a very good teacher," Ron added, his ears severely red.

"I can tell," Mrs. Granger smiled. "Would you two be willing to show the three of us the whole dance?"

The two looked at each other, holding a silent conversation. "Sure," Hermione said after a few moments.

"I'll go get your fathers," her mother said, going upstairs to fetch the men, who were talking about Muggle dentistry.

"And, yes," Hermione added as they made their ways to the opposite side of the basement floor, "I will never mention this to Fred and George; if it comes up when I'm talking to Ginny, I will make sure that she doesn't tell them."

"How?" Ron asked, keen to learn the secret of Ginny silencing.

Hermione winked at him. "Let's just say that I know things she wouldn't like any of you to find out."

"Like what?" Ron asked keenly.

"Sorry, that's classified," Hermione grinned.

"Alright, we're ready if you are!" Hermione's parents and Mr. Weasley came down the stairs and settled themselves on the couch.

Hermione locked eyes with Ron and he nodded. She turned on the music, counted it out, and they began the dance. Ron finally achieved the state Hermione referred to as dance soul - the condition where you're able to forget the rest of the world and just dance; you hear only the music; all you see are the stars and, if you're dancing with someone, your dance partner. Ron saw nothing but Hermione and the soft glow of stars dancing around them; all he heard was music. They made it through the dance without a hitch, even with the dip at the end.

After the dance was done, there was a moment of silence; then the three parents sitting on the couch began clapping. "That was fantastic!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed.

"Phenomenal," Mr. Granger added.

"Amazing," Mr. Weasley said, stunned.

"It looks like Ethan's got some competition!" Mr. Granger laughed, standing up and clapping Ron on the back. Ron's ears went red.

"I've got an idea," Mrs. Granger said to Mr. Weasley and Ron, "why don't you two come to the competition tonight? It's free and open to the general public."

"What do you say, Ron?" Mr. Weasley asked, smiling.

Ron, recalling that Hermione had already invited him, grinned at her. I guess Hermione's a lot like her mum. "Sure, why not?"

Hermione laughed.

"Why don't we go up and have some lunch?" Mr. Granger suggested. "I'm sure you two have worked up an appetite. Hermione, why don't you go change?"

When they got upstairs, Mr. Weasley excused himself to send a message to his wife, telling her their mistake and that the Grangers had invited them to stay overnight. She replied that it was alright by her, and to give her best to the Grangers.

After they ate, Hermione gave Ron a tour of the house. Unsurprisingly, it was filled with bookshelves and photographs; surprisingly, it seemed to be somewhat of a jigsaw. It took them ten minutes to get through one room, because Ron accidentally bumped into a desk, causing a drawer to fall out. It took Hermione a greater part of that time to remember how everything fit into it. Ron apologized repeatedly; Hermione waved his apologies away, saying that she did that at least twice a week. "You'd think I'd know how all this stuff fits into that tiny drawer by now, wouldn't you?" she laughed.

Eventually, they got to her room. It was a medium-sized room, but every inch of the walls were covered. The first wall was a giant bookshelf. A second was covered with posters from books and what appeared to be Muggle movies. A third, which her bed was against, was covered with pictures and posters from famous ballets and other dances. The fourth wall, however, was what caught Ron's attention.

It had a window seat in the center of it, a place where he could easily imagine Hermione curling up to read. Every square inch of the wall, including the sides of the window seat, was plastered with photographs. He walked past her knick-knack shelves and her book- and paper-covered desk to get a closer look.

There appeared to be at least one picture for every part and event of her life, each one captioned in Hermione's handwriting. "Grandpa and me (age three) after my first recital," read a picture that depicted a kind-looking elderly man and a tiny Hermione in a white, puffy tutu. Ron grinned as he looked at all the different photographs, marveling at how none of them moved. He laughed the captions - "I'm dreaming of an orange sugar Christmas (at Gram's, age eight, after the sugar fiasco)." and "You may kiss the fish (age four, Pat's dock - they told me to kiss the fish, what did they expect?)." He was just looking at the ones she had from Hogwarts ("Do Hagrid's rock cakes actually contain rock?") when he heard her moving behind him.

"Hey Ron, turn around for a minute."

He obeyed, and was instantly blinded by a bright flash of light. Rubbing his eyes, he asked, "What was that?" As soon as he could see, he realized that Hermione was holding an old Polaroid camera.

"I need a few more pictures, is all," she grinned, taking out the picture and waving it to develop it. "Hmm, what to caption this one? 'The day I scared Ron with a camera'? 'Noooo! Not the aliens!'? Or maybe - kyaa!" Ron had lunged at Hermione, snatched the camera and the picture, and put them on the floor. He grabbed her and began tickling her mercilessly; they fell backwards onto her bed.

"Maybe, 'The day I got tickled mercilessly for teasing Ron about a picture'?" Ron laughed, finding her giggle spots. Hermione shrieked with laughter, gasping for breath, trying and failing to tickle him back. Neither of them noticed when the door to her room opened.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ron stopped tickling Hermione and the two of them looked up at Ethan, Ron basically on top of Hermione and Hermione still giggling, trying to catch her breath.

"Hi, Ethan," Hermione said as she sat up, Ron scrambling off of her. She glanced at her clock. "You're about an hour early. The competition isn't for another two hours."

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Ethan told her, "privately, if you don't mind."

"Alright," Hermione said, walking out into the hallway with him; Ethan closed the door to her room behind them. "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Ethan demanded.

"Tell you what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"That he's" Ethan gestured towards Hermione's room, where Ron sat inside, "your boyfriend!"

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, stunned. "My boyfriend?"

"Yes! Why didn't you tell me? I knew you guys were best friends, but I didn't know you were dating!" Ethan spat, glaring at her.

"We're not dating, Ethan - where would you get such a ridiculous idea?" Hermione asked, exasperated.

Ethan laughed harshly. "Don't kid me! You don't let me touch you unless we're dancing - and you two were screwing around on your bed!"

Hermione flushed. "Don't make it sound like that! He was tickling me, that's all!"

"Fine, I believe you," Ethan sighed. "I'm just hurt that you didn't tell me how close you guys are."

"For Pete's sake, Ethan, I told you he's one of my best friends! What did you expect?"

"I don't know - maybe that you two would be like we used to be?" Ethan's expression was sorrowful, as if he'd received a blow to his heart. "Just answer two questions truthfully for me, Hermione, and I'll let the subject drop."

"What?"

"First question: Is it true you taught him our dance?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I thought it'd be a good way to teach him about dance. He actually did pretty well."

Ethan sighed, his eyes heavy. "I know. I heard about it from your parents. They said that you guys performed together spectacularly."

"Relax, Ethan, it's not like I'm going to ditch you for the competition. We'll do the dance together, still, so don't worry," Hermione soothed, guessing correctly what was on her friend's mind.

Ethan smiled, seeming completely cheered. "Second question: Do you love him?"

"Of course I love him - I told you that he's one of my best friends - just like I love you, Evie, Harry, and Ginny -" Hermione began.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Ethan interrupted. "Tell me the truth, Hermione. I just want to know. Your answer won't change anything between us."

"I - of course not, I-" Hermione lied, frantically trying to convince her friend.

Ethan was not fooled. "The truth, Hermione."

"Yes," she whispered, her face going pink as she examined her shoes.

"Thank you for being honest," Ethan said gravely, then grinned. "You do realize this whole thing was just to make you admit it and that I'm going to tell Evie everything."

"I hate you." Hermione stuck her tongue out at her friend.

"Yeah, but you're stuck dancing with me, anyway," Ethan grinned. "I think your someday-boyfriend is getting worried."

"Don't call him that!" Hermione hissed.

"Fine, fine," Ethan grinned. "Let me talk to him for a while. I want to smooth something over real quick. Grab your leotard and go change. I want to see you guys dance."

"Yes, Mr. Bossypants," Hermione muttered, going to fetch her leotard and to silently communicate to Ron that everything was alright.

During the time Hermione and Ethan had been chatting, Ron had been silently fuming. Things had been going so well until Ethan had turned up. Why had he not known that Hermione had a boyfriend? He sighed. It was no use… Hermione was taken. He'd have to be a supportive friend, and silently hope that she'd get sick of him and ditch him. Wait… he could hear angry voices… were they fighting? Try as he might, he couldn't make out what they were saying. Then the voices got softer; Ethan the Evil (as Ron now called him in his head) seemed to be asking Hermione something. A few moments later, Hermione came inside the room, assured him with her eyes that everything was okay, got her leotard, and went to change. Ethan the Evil entered the room.

"Hey, I've got a question for you," he said, pulling out Hermione's desk chair and facing Ron, who was still sitting on Hermione's bed.

"What?" Ron asked roughly.

"How long have you and Hermione been together?"

Ron blinked. "What?"

"You know," Ethan said patiently, "how long have the two of you been dating?"

"W-what are you talking about? Did she tell you that? I - er -" Ron's mind was whirring. If Hermione told him that, did Ginny tell her something and she's playing a cruel joke on me? Wait - what about that picture Fred and George took of me? What if they really did send it to Hermione, like they said they might? No… not even they'd go that far. Or… does she want to start dating? Did she tell him that, so I would go along with it and we might wind up together after some huge fiasco? Or - or -?

"Chillax," Ethan said, "she didn't say anything about it, except to deny it when I asked her just now, in the hallway. I just wanted to see your take on things. You know Hermione - she's a fireball, fights like a lion, maybe that's her Gryffindor spirit - she only answered a couple of my questions after I promised to drop the topic. So… acting as her almost-brother, I'm going to tell you that if you hurt her, I'm going to make you regret it."

"We're just friends - I told you, we're not even dating," Ron protested.

"Yeah, but you guys will date someday, and you'll wind up together if you don't die young," Ethan stated calmly, as if it were a solid, well-known fact. "So what I'm saying is, don't hurt her - because if she doesn't destroy you, and your sister doesn't destroy you for hurting her friend, then I promise I will find you and make you sorry."

"But I told you, we're not going out. We're just friends - besides, I haven't got a shot with a girl like Hermione," Ron replied gloomily.

Ethan simply gave Ron a look that quite plainly read, "Really?"

"What?" Ron asked. "It's true."

Ethan slapped his forehead, exasperated. How could two people so obviously perfect for each other be so clueless? "Listen to me," he ordered. "Remember how you were tickling Hermione just a few minutes ago?"

"Yes," Ron answered.

"Well, let me tell you something: As long as I've known her, Hermione has never let a male outside her family touch her unless he's dancing with her. In fact, today was the first day she's ever let me hug her. I think that was only because you were there; I think she trusts you enough to know that if any guy -even an old friend - tried to do anything to her, you'd tear them apart. So trust me - you've got a chance."

Ron stared at him blankly. "What?"

"C'mon," Ethan said, getting up.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked, standing up as well.

"We're going to the basement. I want to see you and Hermione dance together. She taught you the dance earlier, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but -"

"No buts. You're going to dance. We've only got a few minutes before Hermione and I start rehearsal, so just do it, okay? At the end, coming out of the dip, you could kiss her and see what she does." Ethan smirked.

Ron's ears burned. "That already happened."

"And?" Ethan asked, grinning as they made their way downstairs.

"I got her cheek and nothing happened," Ron sighed, pausing. "I haven't got a chance."

"Not with an attitude like that, you haven't! Go for it and go dance!" They finally entered the basement to find Hermione sitting in her splits, reading a book.

Ron grinned. "There's the Hermione I know, always with her nose in a book."

Hermione didn't even notice that her two friends had entered her basement.

"Hermione," Ron said, going over to her and squatting down next to her. "Hermione." He poked her cheek gently with the tip of his finger.

Ethan cringed. The last time he'd tried to pull Hermione out of a book like that, he'd nearly gotten his finger bitten off.

"Hermione." Poke. "Hermione." Poke. "Hermione." Poke. Ron sighed. This was going to take a while. "Hermione." Poke. "Hermione!" Poke.

Finally, Hermione noticed and rolled sideways, onto Ron's foot, knocking him over. "Did you want something, Ron?" She smiled innocently.

"You did that on purpose," he muttered, pulling her to her feet.

"Why, yes! However did you guess?" Hermione asked, using a strangely happy tone.

"Hurry up and dance already!" Ethan barked, still amazed that Ron hadn't lost a finger.

"Yes, Mr. Bossypants," Hermione laughed, walking over to her spot and putting down her book. She started the music and counted it out.

Ethan watched as his old friend and his new acquaintance danced together. How had Ron managed to learn the dance so well in such a short amount of time? And, from the looks of it, he'd managed to achieve dance soul. The two danced together superbly; their bodies fit together, they knew how the other would move almost as if they could read the other's mind, and they were comfortable with their bodies touching. Ethan sighed, wishing that he could dance that well in such a short amount of time.

When they were done, Ethan clapped. "Brava!" he exclaimed. "Do you have dancer's blood, Ron?"

"On my Mum's side, yeah," Ron nodded, "but I had an amazing teacher."

Hermione blushed. "Flattery will do nothing…."

"Hermione," Ethan said thoughtfully, "do you remember the back-up dance we were planning in case this one wouldn't work?"

"Yes, we spent weeks on it. Why?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I was thinking…"

"Ethan, please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking," Hermione sighed.

"Oh, I'm probably thinking what you think I'm thinking," Ethan laughed.

"Do you think we could pull it off?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Ethan grinned, "it kind of depends on Ron."

"What depends on me?" Ron asked, uncomfortable. "Wait… is what I'm thinking you're thinking what Hermione thought she thought you were thinking?"

"I'm not exactly sure what you just said, but probably," Ethan grinned. "Are you up to it? I can lend you the necessary stuff."

"Will they let us?" Ron asked.

Hermione grinned, "Sure - you don't sign up ahead of time. You just walk right in."

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