Ok, guys, I don't have excuses for the delay, I'm sorry... :(

Anyway, here's the chapter, I hope you like it! As always, Enjoy, Read and Review!

Chapter 11: Of Stomach Flus and Unexpected Help

Hermione's POV:

Christmas holidays passed way too fast, among mornings spent playing with snow outside and long afternoons spent at someone's house or at the Three Broomsticks, the local pub, doing homework together.

No matter what, we always found a way to hang together, the Weasleys, Harry and I; occasionally someone else would join our group -Dean and Seamus, the Patil twins, or Luna and Neville, who were basically attached to the hip-, but most of the time it was just the six of us, laughing and enjoying each other's company when it was too cold to set a foot out in the snow.

On Christmas Day I received an email from Lavender; she wouldn't have been able to come and visit me for New Year's celebrations because both her brothers were sick with a particularly nasty flu, and Tommy would have made up a little hell if she went to England without him.

I wasn't as sad about it as I thought I would have been, though: after all, she would have come during Spring Break for Emma's birthday, just three months later.

The truth was -and I felt a little bad when I realized that-, I had completely forgotten about the plans we had made back in autumn for Christmas holidays, and I already had a full schedule for each and every day of holiday, which included lots of homework and tutoring (Ginny needed a hand in Chemistry, and Harry and Ron apparently forgot -purposefully- to open their History books since September, which meant they were behind the rest of our class of a few centuries of wars and conspiracies), and some quality time with Emma, who was starting to complain about all the time I was spending with what had become my second family.

So, before I could really realize that, it was the fourth of January, and I was in the corridors with the rest of the group as we waited for the bell to ring.

"I can't believe we are here again," Ron groaned, stuffing his books in the locker. "I mean, weren't the holidays supposed to last two weeks? I barely remember five days of them! That's unfair!"

He had been complaining about it since the very moment we walked through the castle's doors, to the point Ginny and the Twins had given up and left early for their classes just to get away from him.

I rolled my eyes and smiled at his thousandth complaint, checking the books in my bag twice before closing my locker with a faint clang and turning to him.

Things had been a bit awkward between us for a few days after Christmas Eve, but before New Year's everything was back to normal, and I stopped worrying about that.

"Come on, it's not that bad," I said, adjusting my bag on my shoulder and leaning slightly on my crutch -my legs had gotten better and better during the break, so I had dismissed one of the sticks, with my great joy-.

He scoffed, ruffling his already messy hair and furrowing his brow.

"Don't tell me you are happy we are back at school, because I wouldn't believe that," he warned, shooting me a half amused, half reproachful look; it was a dare I couldn't miss.

"Believe what you want," I said with a smirk, turning my back on him and taking a few measured steps forward, knowing he would have followed me shortly. "But I would start to move if I were you; you don't want to get late to McGonagall's class on first day back, don't you?"

My smile grew wider as he quickly got up with me in a few long strides, a slightly guilty look on his face.

McGonagall always threatened him of life-long detention if he didn't find a remedy to his chronic delays, and if there was a teacher Ron really was afraid of, that was our English Professor and Head of the House; we all teased him about it, and it seemed I was the only one able to do so without ending up pissing him off. Obviously, I took shamelessly advantage of that, bickering with him all the time; he never told, but I suspected he found it as amusing as I did.

"Aw, come on, you can't be happy about coming back to school!" he complained, easily catching up with my quick pace, as we headed to our first class.

I raised an eyebrow at him, not answering his question. I was starting to wonder if he was just being petulant about that, or if he was doing that just to annoy me.

Knowing him, he was probably trying to do the latter.

"If you hate school, Ronald, that doesn't mean other people should do the same," I said, knowing he hated being called by his full name.

He shot me a glare, but I smiled, slipping in my seat and greeting Harry, who was already sitting in the desk behind mine.

Ron usually sat beside him in the double desk, so I was surprised when, instead, he slipped in the empty seat by my side, grinning.

"What are you doing?" I asked under my breath as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom.

Ron shrugged, taking his book from his bag and putting it on the desk.

"Annoying you, of course. You know it's my job," he replied in mock surprise, like it was something obvious.

I bit hard on my lip to restrain myself from laughing out loud at his words, and shook my head, looking down at my book and trying to concentrate onto the teacher's lecture.

"Shut up, you git, and start taking notes. This time I won't pass you mine, no matter how annoying you become, I swear."

Of course, by the time we were heading to lunch together, after fourth hour, I was handing him my English notebook , wondering how he could always get his way when he asked me for homework help.

"Hermione, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, do you know that?"

I shoved him, barely making him sway, and glared at him.

"Yeah, whatever," I said, rolling my eyes. "Save your compliments for the next test, they will be more useful to you then; maybe McGonagall will fall for your charm," I put particular emphasis on the word, stressing it mockingly, "And step over the inevitable F you will get if you don't start paying attention in class."

"Aw, that was low," he said with a grimace, taking lunch for us both on a tray and walking to Gryffindor table, where most of our friends were already sitting.

"How was the day?" Ginny asked as we sat across from her and the Twins, still bickering.

"As usual," Harry answered before I could register what she had said. "Boring lessons. Mom and Dad arguing about everything."

"Oh, shut up!" Ron and I said at the same time, glaring at him, and he smirked.

"You have my sympathy," Ginny said with a laugh, throwing me a bread crumb.

We spent the rest of lunch that way, and even Chemistry, Latin and Art seemed to pass quickly; so, before I could really realize it, we were already out in the corridors, waving our goodbyes as we split up to go home.

Luna's father dropped me home as usual, but when I walked through the door I noticed something was wrong: Aunt Elspeth was standing by the phone in the hall, a worried look on her face, nervously twisting the phone thread as she listened, nodding and speaking briefly every now and then.

"God, I am so sorry…Is there something I can-Yes, yes-I don't know-I am so sorry, Marion…Yes, I promise…Just let me arrange a few things before-Alright. Alright. Take care. Bye."

"Is something wrong?" I asked her when she hung up; her eyes were shiny and sad, and she looked very, very old.

She sighed, looking at her hands for a moment before speaking.

"Marion, an old friend of mine, has just lost her husband. He died last night of a heart attack."

I made a grimace of sympathy, as the wound of my loss started to ache again: I remembered way too clearly what losing someone dear felt.

"We-we both attended Hogwarts at our time-same class, always together; we shared the same desk for eight years…She is destroyed, I am worried about her; William and her, they met at school, they have been together their whole lives. And now that he is gone she's alone, they didn't have any children-"

"You should go to her," I said softly, lightly putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's what she asked me to do, but she lives in Bath, I can't leave the two of you alone-"

I shook my head, smiling.

"You don't have to worry about that; Mom and Dad used to go away for a 'parent trip' every year; they stayed away a week or so, and I looked after Emma. I have done so since I was thirteen, it's no big deal. Plus, she will be willing to cooperate and behave, there's nothing to worry about."

She smiled and hugged me. "Thank you, honey, but are you sure…?"

I nodded, hugging her back. "One hundred per cent sure, Aunt. Go pack your bag now; do you want me to call a cab to bring you to the train station?"

"That would be perfect, dear, thank you. I will be down in fifteen minutes, an old lady like me doesn't need many things…"

Half an hour later the cab was in our front yard, and Aunt Elspeth was walking out the door, her bag in hand.

She hugged us both before leaving, promising that she would have called us as soon as she got to her friend's house in Bath; after a hundred recommendations she finally decided it was time to go, so she hugged us again and got in the cab, waving as the car pulled out of our yard.

We waved back, and when the black cab disappeared behind a hill Emma looked up at me, a question in her blue eyes.

"Why did she seem so worried about us?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

I smiled, taking her hand and leading her in, towards the kitchen.

"She doesn't know how good we are when we are alone. Now, how about a cup of hot chocolate? Outside it was freezing…And I can bake a cake, it won't be as good as Aunt Elspeth's, but I am sure it will be fine."

"Chocolate and walnuts?" she asked hopefully, smiling as she climbed on a chair.

I laughed and nodded, collecting everything I needed for the cake and giving her a cup of the omnipresent hot chocolate Aunt Elspeth always made for us when we came back from school.

"Ok, chocolate and walnuts. Come on, you can stir the dough if you want; but wash your hands first."

That night, when Aunt Elspeth called, she told us she would have stayed there for a few days, probably until the end of the week, so that she could attend the funeral and then help her friend with everything before coming back. It was no big deal for us, so we reassured her again and again, promising that we would have been fine, and that she didn't have to worry about us.

I had to admit, it went pretty well those first few days: we left every morning for school with Mr Lovegood; then at the end of lessons I picked up Emma with him and Luna, and they dropped us home, as usual. I did my homework in the living room while Emma played on the carpet, and then I cooked dinner, put the monkey to sleep and went to bed myself after cleaning up a bit.

I should have known things never got well for more than a few days in a row, especially when I was around.

On Thursday night, I woke up to the sound of running footsteps in the corridor; it wasn't a loud noise, but I had always been a light sleeper, and the house was usually so quiet it startled me.

The alarm clock on my bedside table told me it was a little past two o'clock, and I frowned: why was Emma out of bed at that time of the night?

I stood and walked out quickly, worrying a bit and telling myself that she probably just went to take a glass of water; when I popped my head in the corridor, though, the light in the bathroom was on, and a sickening noise was coming from the half-open door.

I almost ran there, and found Emma bent over the toilet, throwing up what remained of her dinner.

I knelt on the tile floor and held her hair back, murmuring soothingly as she emptied the contents of her stomach; her forehead was covered in beads of sweat, and it was incredibly hot under my hand.

When her retching eventually stopped, I stood up and helped her washing her face with cold water and brushing her teeth; then I grabbed a few items from the medicines cabinet over the sink and took her hand, leading her back to her room.

She had a fever, I was sure, so I put her back to bed and tucked her in under a pile of blankets as she curled up on her side, shivering.

I put the thermometer under her tongue, and it didn't take much for it to shoot up to a high number, making my gut clench with worry: Emma had never been sick since the accident, and it had always been my mother who took care of her before that, so I was frightened of not knowing the right thing to do.

I gave her something for the fever, but for the stomach part there was nothing I could do; so I spent the night walking back and forth from the pink room to the bathroom every ten minutes as Emma felt sick again and again, and reading her fairy tales in the moments she felt better, but not enough to sleep yet.

It was only in the early hours of the morning that Emma finally drifted off to sleep, and the sun was starting to come up by then, its light pale and grey from behind the curtain of clouds.

I was beyond the simple concept of tired, to the point that I didn't even feel like sleeping anymore , so I stretched my muscles, sore from spending the night in the plastic chair by Emma's bed, and walked to my room, taking a few items from my closet.

I didn't want to leave Emma for long, so I just washed my face, pulled my hair back in a ponytail and threw on a pair of old jeans and the jumper Mrs Weasley had made for me, which I adored and wore every time I could.

Then I walked back to the pink room, fiddling with my cell phone; Emma was obviously in no condition to go to school, and I would have stayed home with her; so I should have told Luna not to come to pick us up that day, and then call the school too…

I sighed and typed the text for Luna; it was half past six, and she usually woke up early, so she probably would have read it in a matter of minutes.

Not coming 2 school 2day, Emma's got flu and I'm staying with her. Tell the others not 2 worry, ok? Good luck to you and Ginny 4 yr Biology test!

I killed some time making myself a bowl of cereals for breakfast and tidying up a bit; then, at seven thirty, I called Emma's school to explain the situation to her teacher, who said it was not a problem, and that she wished Emma to be ok soon.

There was no need to call my school, first, because as I was a student I couldn't excuse myself from classes, and second, because when Luna told them, Harry and Ron would have probably explained everything to Professor McGonagall.

Then I sat again in the small chair by Emma's bed, and I must have drifted off to sleep for a while, because I woke up a little before eight, startled, when my phone buzzed in my pocket, telling me I had a text.

I expected it to be Luna's, or Ginny's, probably, but it wasn't: it was Ron's.

Luna told us, how r things going?

I smiled; was he worrying about Emma?

I typed a quick reply:

She's sleeping now, but we spent a hell of a night. She's got stomach flu.

After a minute my phone buzzed again, and I frowned.

I'll come and help.

What? Did he mean, right then? Was he crazy, running from school to come here?

U r not. U won't ditch, we r fine! I wrote back, feeling both amused and annoyed.

I am, and u need help. Gimme 30 min and I'll be there, was his reply.

U r not! I wrote again, frowning; I knew there was no point in insisting, that he would have come anyway, but I couldn't let him win just like that.

I am! C u in a while!

I sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing my eyes; why the heck was he so pig-headed? Ditching classes to come here and help me – what help could he give me with Emma's flu, anyway? – it was crazy!

But after all – even if I would have never admitted it, especially in front of him – I was glad he was coming.

Ron's POV:

It was still a few minutes to the first bell, so I could easily sneak out of the main door without any professor noticing it; I stuffed my books back in the locker and closed it, then grabbed Harry's shoulder.

"Mate, I need you to cover me," I said in a low voice, pointing at the English classroom at the end of the corridor.

He sighed and fiddled with his hair as he always did; then smiled.

"Let me guess: date with a certain girl who didn't show around here this morning?"

I shoved him, glaring; he and the others were starting to get on my nerves with their jokes on the topic.

"You git, you know perfectly it's not like that," I muttered darkly; he seemed to understand it wasn't the right moment, and raised his hands.

"Sorry, mate, just kidding," he said with a half-hearted apologetic smile.

"Anyway, I'm going to see if I can help her somehow; if Emma's sick she is probably freaking out right now. So, will you cover me with McGonagall and the other professors?" I was running short of time, it was two minutes to the bell, I had to go.

"What should I tell them?" Harry asked as I turned and started to walk away.

"Whatever you want: that I have been eaten by a giant spider, that I have chicken pox, that I left for Mars last night; I don't care, you just have to give an explanation for me obviously not being here. Luck!"

Then I slipped in the door and walked quickly across the yard, where some students were still lingering; no one would have noticed me in the mass of dark coats, even if I was walking in the opposite direction as the others.

Two minutes later I was running down the hill, smiling as I left the school behind; it was about three miles to Hermione's house, but it was no big deal: the football training I had had in the last months had strengthened me a lot, and I was pretty sure I would have made it all in a good half an hour without too much of an effort.

When I eventually reached the old Granger's house I was short of breath, but I had made it in just a little more than thirty minutes, a good time for me.

I ran a hand through my hair and walked to the door, knocking three times as I always did; I heard the sound of footsteps, and after a few seconds Hermione opened the door.

Her eyes were circled by dark shadows, like she hadn't had any sleep – which was probably exactly what had happened –, and she was pale, like she was sick herself. She had her Weasley jumper on, the one Mom made her for Christmas, and a pair of faded jeans that looked a good size too large for her, making her appear even smaller than she already was; her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, but a few curls had escaped it, and they were brushing her eyes and face as she tried to push them back without success.

"Hi," she said quietly, stepping aside so I could go in.

"How's she?" I asked in a low voice; she seemed restless, and she was worried, I needn't to be Freud to notice that.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"She spent the whole night between her room and the bathroom, throwing up every ten minutes or so; I gave her something for the fever, and it went down for a few hours, but I think it's raising again…Now she's sleeping, she was totally worn out after a whole night up, and I feel…useless."

She was about to freak out, I was sure, and I could understand her: she was alone, her aunt was away, and she probably hadn't dealt with her sister when she was sick before, at least, not alone.

I would have been frightened if I were in the same situation as her.

I put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at me, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Hey, you don't need to worry, ok? It's just a flu, nothing more, and it will probably be gone in a day or two at last. If she hadn't been sick for a while, that's good news for now. For the fever you can give her medicines again as soon as she wakes up – or before, if there's the need to – and it will be ok; you just need to make her eat something and she'll be fine," I assured her.

With six siblings, I had seen many more stomach flus and such that I ever wanted to, and I had grown up watching Mum taking care of them when they were sick, so I was pretty used to it, and I remembered what to do.

She nodded and stifled a yawn, closing her eyes for a moment; she was tired after spending the whole night up, she needed sleep as much as her sister.

I followed her upstairs, in Emma's room; the kid was sleeping under a pile of blankets, with Crookshanks curled up in a ball to the foot of her bed, purring softly. The curtains were pulled close, so that it was almost dark, but I could see that she was very pale. No wonder Hermione was so worried about her; it was odd to see her so quiet.

She sat in the small pink plastic chair by the bed and took her face in her hands with a sigh, resting her elbows on her knees; she looked exhausted.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" I asked, crouching down next to her.

She shook her head, chewing on her lip.

"I don't know…If she feels sick again-"

"I can watch her while you sleep, and wake you up if she needs you," I replied, smiling.

She smiled back at me, a tired smile that somehow managed to light up her face entirely, and nodded once.

"Thank you, Ron," she muttered, standing up and heading to the flowered armchair in the corner of the room. It took her maybe two minutes to fall asleep in it, and I smiled seeing her curled up on the cushion, finally peaceful.

There was an extra blanket folded to the foot of the bed, so I picked it up and carefully placed it on her shoulders; she seemed to notice something, because she snuggled deeper in the soft cushion, but she didn't wake up.

Then I sat down on the plastic chair by the kid's bed and scowled at the orange cat, who – was it even right to refer to it like a person? – was glaring at me, his yellow eyes fixed on me.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm just trying to help," I muttered, wondering if I was going mad all of a sudden, talking to an animal. "And remember it was me who gave you a home in the first place."

When he turned and went back to sleep, though, I couldn't tell whether it was a good or a bad sign.

Hermione's POV:

I didn't know how long I slept, a couple of hours probably, judging from the way my back and neck were aching, or maybe a little more.

I was still tired and drowsy, and my eyelids were heavy; I was just starting to consider the possibility of going back to sleep for a while, when a soft laugh awoke me completely.

I opened my eyes, and the scene in front of me made me smile instinctively: Emma was sitting up, her back resting against the pillows, and she was laughing as Ron, who had a puppet made out of what looked like one of my sister's old socks on his hand, played with her.

I wondered how he could get her to like him so much; she practically adored him, even more than the rest of the Weasleys, if that was possible, and he seemed to like the little monkey back.

"Slept well?" Ron asked, turning his head towards me and smiling. I nodded, slightly taken aback: how did he notice I was awake? I hadn't made a single noise!

"Mione!" Emma squealed happily, sitting a little straighter in the bed; she really looked better, and her cheeks had a faint rosy tint that made her look much healthier than before.

"Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?" I asked, standing up and walking to her bed, plopping down next to her.

"Much better," she said, resting her head on my shoulder as I smoothed her hair. "When I woke up I wasn't feeling sick anymore, and the fever is going away already. I'm hungry, though; Ron just made me drink a glass of water to see if the sickness was really gone."

"I can make something in a few minutes; thank God Aunt Elspeth had just done the shopping before leaving. No chocolate for today, but how about some bread with jam? You need sugar, and that would be perfect now. And in two hours we can have lunch."

She nodded eagerly; knowing her, she was probably starving.

"I'll help you," Ron offered, standing up with a grimace. "I have been sitting here for hours, I need to move a bit."

"I'll be right back, sweetie," I told Emma, kissing her on the forehead and quickly walking out in the corridor.

"Puppets made with old socks?" I asked Ron mockingly as we headed to the kitchen.

He shrugged, grinning. "Fred and George used to do it all the time when Ginny was sick, and she loved it. I just thought she would have liked it as well," he said, like it was the most natural thing of the world, playing with my sick sister.

"She did, I can assure you," I said, rummaging in the cupboard looking for cherries jam, Emma's favourite. "I warn you though, she already adores you, she might decide she wants to become part of your family too, and then you would find yourself with another sister before you even realise it. It's at your own risk."

He peeked into the cupboard as I continued my search, and he immediately found the jar I was looking for; he made the move to take it, and to do so he leaned closer, probably without even realising it.

The same strange, tingly sensation I had had on Christmas Eve's night came back, and I bit on my lip hard; why was it so difficult to be close to him sometimes?

He stopped for a moment, giving me a strange look, his brow furrowed like he was confused, like he felt that strange thing too.

But that wasn't possible, wasn't it?

It took me a few more moments, but eventually I broke eye contact and slid away, taking the jar from his hand and methodically spreading some jam on a slice of bread; I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn't lift my eyes.

Eventually, though, I had to look up; his ears were pink, which meant he was embarrassed too, and it made me smile a little.

"Ready for second round?" I asked, putting the bread and a glass of water on a tray.

He nodded, looking somehow relieved, and followed me upstairs.

Ron's POV:

I stayed there the whole afternoon, almost until dinnertime; then I ran home. I was sure the school had called Mom to tell her I was absent that day, and I didn't want to arrive late and give her one more reason to be angry at me.

I got there a little earlier than usual – a rare thing for me – and I quietly opened the rear door to the kitchen; Mom was cooking and singing softly to herself, a thing which gave me a little hope. Maybe – and just maybe – she wouldn't have freaked out that evening. I didn't really expect it, though.

Since she seemed not to notice me, I started to lay the table, a task that usually belonged to Ginny, the only one who was generally willing to volunteer to help Mom with 'house work'.

"Minerva called today," Mom said after a while; I winced instinctively as I heard the first name of Professor McGonagall, and grimaced: the storm was coming.

"She told me that you were not in school, and that Harry justified you with some kind of 'stomach flu issues', or something improbable like that."

I fussed with my hair, looking for some kind of excuse in my head.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know I shouldn't have ditched, or that I should have told you, but-"

She raised a hand, cutting me off; then – a thing that absolutely left me speechless – she smiled, her eyes soft and filled with something I couldn't exactly recognize, something between affection and pride.

"Let me finish, Ron, before asking for forgiveness. I was angry, of course, but when Ginny and the boys came home they told me why you weren't in school today. And yes, you are right, you should have told me, because if you told me what you were going to do, I wouldn't have complained."

Ok, that wasn't my mother, I was sure; the real Molly Weasley would have been there yelling at me with smoke coming out of her ears, not talking to me peacefully like nothing had happened.

"Oh, come on, don't look so surprised. Pass me that plate, would you?"

I accomplished, still guarded, and she smiled.

"Thank you, dear. Anyway, I know I usually complain and scold you at this point, but this is different. Since she came here, things started to go better: you have good marks in every subject, and you are less irritable, happier; I have seen you smile more often during these last three months than in the whole year. She has helped you a lot, Ron, and she's good for you; I'm not angry because now that she needed you for once, you have been there to help."

I felt my ears warm up; damn blush, why didn't anyone else in my family turn that shade of red whenever embarrassed or anything?

In that moment my brothers rushed down, laughing, Ginny jumping two steps at a time to catch up with them while she tried to snatch something from Fred's hand.

"Give it back, Fred! I swear, this time I will kill you! Don't you dare! It's late already!" she threatened, eyes shining with fury.

I recognized the item Fred was clutching as Ginny's bag, a tiny white thing mom knitted for her a couple of years back, the one we called her 'date bag', since she always wore it when she went out. What was she late for? Did she have a date? She had gone out with Dean for a while in the fall, but she hadn't been with anyone ever since.

Not until that day, at least.

If she was so angry at the twins for stealing her bag, whatever she was going to do must have been something important to her. That meant, one more reason to check. She was my little sister, after all; I had to know who she went out with, so that I could break his nose if he hurt her in any way.

"Getting ready for a date, Gin?" I asked, my tone light; I had to admit, I did it partly to protect her, and partly to meddle in her business.

She chewed on her lip and didn't answer, grabbing her bag; was it just my impression, or she seemed very nervous?

"Gin?" I asked again, starting to feel a little worried; who was she dating, that I couldn't know of?

Not a Slytherin, I hoped. Please, anyone, but not a Slytherin.

"Don't freak out, Ron, ok? I'm almost seventeen, and I am free to go out with anyone I want; you can't say anything about that, no complaints, no scenes, no anything. Got it?"

Ok, I was about to do exactly what she didn't want me to do: freak out.

"Who?" I asked as the Twins disappeared in the living room; I suspected they knew, and they didn't want to be there when she told me.

"He told me during lunch, today; I guess he had tried to ask me out for a while, but never found me alone. Remember, you like him. A lot."

Oh, no, that couldn't be; he couldn't have really done that to me, he knew how protective I was of Ginny when it came to boys fancying her…

"Please, don't freak out, ok?" she asked again, her eyes pleading. "You know how long I have waited for this to happen. I mean, I have liked Harry since my first year, and now-"

Perfect. My best friend had a date with my little sister. Absolutely wonderful! I wished I had him in front of me in that exact moment, so that I could tell him what I thought of the great idea he had!

But I already knew that Harry liked Ginny; he never told, but I could see how he looked at her at school. And I knew he would have never hurt her, not intentionally, anyway; of all the boys in that damned town, if I had to choose someone to be with Ginny, I would have chosen him, for Heaven's sake!

It was…odd. But, they had been walking in circles around each other for a while, and I had known for weeks that something alike would have happened sooner or later. I just hoped it would have happened later, though; much later.

I would have been the worst brother ever if I told her something about it, so I attempted a smile.

"Gin, I won't freak out," I assured her; she didn't have to know how close I had come to that in the last ten seconds. "Just – have fun, ok? And if anything goes wrong, tell me and I will beat him up, no matter if he is my best friend."

She smiled and hugged me, looking happy and relieved.

"Don't worry, Ron, it will be perfect. Wish me luck!"

"Luck," I said, ruffling her hair. She slapped my hand and fixed her long red strands with her fingers, glaring at me; I laughed and stepped back, just as someone knocked at the door.

It was embarrassing, but not as much as I thought it would have been; at least, I wasn't angry at Harry for asking my sister out. Not really, however.

Later that night, I was in my room, sitting at the window and looking at the dark fields outside without really seeing them. I couldn't get my mother's words from my mind; they continued to dance in my head, despite my efforts to think about something else – anything else.

She is good for you…I have seen you smile more often during these last three months than in the whole year…

She was right, like never before: Hermione was good for me, like the sun was good for a growing tree. We bickered every other day, that was true, but it was almost a game to us; she enjoyed those fights over homework and notes as much as I did, I could see it in her eyes when we argued. We had come to spend most of the time together, to the point I was starting to need her like I needed air, without even fully realising it; she somehow managed to balance me, her rationality and good sense keeping me from doing something stupid – a thing that happened much more often than I wished.

And then there were those strange sensations, that tingling all over my skin and the impression of floating without control I felt when she kissed me on the cheek on Christmas Eve, or that very afternoon, when we had been so close in the kitchen, even if that was just for a few seconds.

She was my best friend, just like Harry was, yet it was a completely different thing, I knew that.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair; why did things always have to be that complicated?

I sat there for hours, lost in thought, until I finally made up my mind: I knew what I had to do.

The next morning I sent a text to Hermione to know how Emma was feeling; she said the kid seemed to be fully recovered already, a thing I was glad of, and she thanked me again for being there. Like I could leave her right when she needed help.

The rest of the weekend passed slowly as I tried to convince myself that what I had decided to do was not a suicide mission, all the while trying to ignore Ginny, who continued to smile dreamily, reminding me of Luna, talking to Mom about how well her date went.

And finally Monday came, and I woke up nervous like never before. For once, though, I was glad it was a school day.

The morning passed in an incredibly ordinary way, as Harry, Hermione and I walked from class to class, talking and laughing as always. I wondered if I really wanted to risk that laughter and happiness, but I had made up my mind days before: it would have been useless to wait longer.

I would have asked her out – or, at least, I would have tried – that afternoon; I didn't even know how, and thinking about it only made me more nervous. So I patiently waited for the school day to end, all the while hoping it would have gone well.

Hermione's POV:

"So, what are you doing now?" Ron asked me as I stuffed my books in the locker.

I smiled, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

"I promised Emma I would have dropped by her school and taken her to the playground," I explained, heading out. She had recovered incredibly fast, and I had agreed to let her play for a while, on the condition that she wouldn't have exaggerated and that we would have stayed only half an hour before going home. After all, it was still pretty cold outside.

"Do you mind if I join you? I can't stand hearing Ginny talking about Harry anymore, or I will freak out, and I would like to say hi to Emma."

Was he talking seriously, coming with me as I took my baby sister to the playground?

I looked at him; yes, he was serious.

"Of course I don't mind," I said, glad that I wouldn't have had to sit on a bench alone as I looked after Emma. "She will be happy to see you too; I told you, she adores you."

Fred and George – who I could finally tell apart, after months – gave us a lift to the kindergarten, and Emma immediately spotted us in the crowd of parents and siblings in front of the school; no need to say, she was beyond happy to see Ron, who had almost become a brother to her.

We walked to the playground, which was – luckily – just a few yards from the school, and Ron and I sat down on a bench as my sister ran to her friends, who were also there with their parents. She wasn't that shy anymore; she had opened up a lot since we arrived in England, a thing I was incredibly glad of.

Since she was safe under the careful surveillance of Meredith's mother, I looked around, observing the scene before me.

There were kids everywhere, on the slides and swings, and running around trying to catch each other; they were happy, and thoughtless, and absolutely adorable. I recognized some of them as Emma's classmates, and waved at a few parents I knew from the birthday parties I had taken Emma to in the last months; I always wanted to check who I left my sister with, even if Aunt Elspeth assured me they were good people she knew very well.

"You know, there's a thing I had been thinking about for a while now," he said a few minutes later; he wasn't looking at me as he spoke, and for some reason my heart tightened a bit with nervousness.

"Shoot," I said, chewing on my lip and wondering what he wanted to tell me.

He looked at me for a moment; then looked down again, blushing slightly.

"I think it's – how about going out?"

My eyes widened a little; was he really asking – no, that wasn't possible, he must have been joking.

"We are going out," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

To my surprise, he smiled and looked up, that time holding my gaze.

"You know, the fact of being together outside isn't exactly the definition I was thinking about," he said, his ears turning darker and darker as he spoke. He seemed as embarrassed as me, if not more, but that didn't matter.

He was really asking me out. On a date. I was imagining everything, there was no other explanation. It seemed incredibly real, though, to be just a dream of some sort.

And then: "Do you have plans for dinner?" he asked.

I felt the corners of my lips turning up in a smile, and I shook my head, blushing.

"Nope," I said in a low voice, feeling shy all of a sudden, a thing I wasn't used to, not with Ron at least.

"I'm completely free."

Next chapter is the date! Update due on Sun 24th! :D