A/N- Thank you for all the reviews and follows...also for nobody threatening me for the last chapter! Hopefully this makes up for it, at least a little bit. As per usual, I am SUPER not JKR and do not own any of these characters. Enjoy!

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth proved difficult when Ron awoke. His breath was so bad he could feel it. His head felt like he'd been pummeled by bludgers all night. He groaned as he turned over in the tangled sheets, cursing Seamus with all his might. Why, why had he decided to go for that second shot? Scratch that. Why had he taken a drink from Seamus in the first place? Lesson learned.

A light whistle came from somewhere in the room. Ron didn't give a toss if it was botanical day or whatever with Sprout, there was quite frankly no reason for Neville to be this happy so early in the morning. He groaned. The whistling continued. Ron remembered that he did owe Neville one. Godric only knew how much worse he'd be feeling this morning if Neville hadn't helped him last night. Still, he could thank him later. Preferably after a large breakfast.

Through the slight gap in the curtain, he could see Harry jump out of bed and head towards his trunk. Unless Ron was mistaken, it looked like Harry was the one whistling. But why would Harry be so happy…

Ron groaned again. After the party's disastrous end, Ron had completely forgotten that Harry and Ginny had snogged. Seemed to have gone well.

'You're cheerful this morning, Harry.'

There was Neville's dulcet tones.

'It's a nice day,' Harry replied.

Neville made a non-commital noise.

'Would you lot shut up? Some of us are still trying to sleep!'

Seamus was never the most pleasant in the mornings. Judging from his sudden baritone voice, Seamus seemed to have imbibed a little too much last night.

'We're just talking,' Neville mumbled.

'Too loudly!' Seamus retorted.

Harry laughed as he rummaged around in his trunk. 'How much Butterbeer did you have to drink?'

Ron could hear Seamus rip open his curtains. 'Might've been a little stronger than butterbeer.'

The memory of the alcohol burned in his throat and Ron groaned at the memory. It was loud enough for Seamus to look over in his direction.

'Ah, so you're finally rejoining us in the land of the living!' Seamus chuckled feebly. 'You ducked out of the party so fast, you didn't see me taking shots in middair!' The picture was vivid in Ron's mind. What was surprising is that nobody put a stop to it. He couldn't imagine Hermione letting something like that slide.

'Good thing too,' Neville added. 'Ron would've ended up back in the Hospital Wing if he'd kept going.'

'What?' Harry and Seamus asked in unison.

Ron sat up and threw open his own curtains, blinking in the sudden bright light.

'Why didn't you tell me what we were drinking?' He asked Seamus. Like his mate, Ron's own voice had dropped deeper than normal.

Harry looked bewildered between the two of them. Neville was frowning as he tended to his Mimbletonia. Seamus was rolling his eyes.

'Blokes go all funny if you start saying its Cerisenol. Think its too fruity or summat. I just skip that step and give you delicious moonshine.'

'Ron's not supposed to have cherries, Seamus.' Neville's tone was cool as he pried a thorn away from the base of his plant.

Seamus gaped at Neville, his sandy hair sticking up in all directions.

'What are you on about? I've seen Ron eat cherries loads of times.'

'Something to do with being poisoned,' Ron cut in, stifling a yawn behind his hand. 'Forgot Pomfrey mentioned that.'

Seamus swore. 'Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to hurt you!'

Ron shrugged. 'I probably should have checked before I-'

'Hang on,' Harry cut in, readjusting his glasses. 'You almost got poisoned again last night?'

Ron shrugged. 'Apparently.'

'Because you drank cherry moonshine that Seamus gave you? Without checking?'

'That's about the measure of it, yeah.'

'Merlin, how did I miss all of this?' Harry asked, mostly to himself.

'You were off snogging Ginny.' The words were muffled behind Dean's curtains, and it sounded as though Dean was face first in his pillow. Harry's cheeks reddened.

'It's fine,' Neville cut in, now pruning a purple bush. 'I gave him some holy Basil to counteract it. It was just lucky Hermione and I had been talking about basils the other week.'

At the mention of her name, Seamus and Ron looked at each other with wide eyes. Then they snapped their gaze to Harry.

'Don't tell Hermione!' They both exclaimed. Harry leaned back with surprise.

'She doesn't know?'

'No,' Seamus said. 'And what she doesn't know, won't hurt her.'

Ron agreed. The last thing he needed was another reason for her to be upset with him.

'Alright, alright, I won't tell Hermione.'

Neville paused mid snip, looking over at Ron.

'I'd definitely shower before you see her. You look a right mess.'

'Cheers Neville,' Ron snapped, stumbling out of bed and making his way towards the loo.

There were few things a hot shower and a solid toothbrushing couldn't fix. Ron did feel better as he pulled on clothes for the day. Neville assured him that his headache would be fixed with food. The thought of platters of bacon and toast in the Great Hall was making his mouth water.

Harry had waited for him and together they headed down the staircase to the Common Room. The House-Elves had done an excellent job. It didn't appear like there had been a party at all. Though the lack of students milling was unusual for a Sunday morning.

'Ginny!' Harry's voice was like a dagger in Ron's ear. It was still too early to be this pleased. His sister was sitting in a chair near the fireplace, reading her Transfiguration textbook. She looked up at the sound of her name and broke out into a big smile.

'Morning Harry,' she greeted brightly. Closing the book, she bound over and put her arms around Harry's neck.

'Nice to see you too, Gin,' Ron grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

'Oh shove off,' she retorted, though her tone was good-natured.

'Have you eaten?' Harry asked Ginny. She shook her head.

'Wanted to wait for you.' Harry beamed at her. Ron rolled his eyes.

'You coming too?' Ginny asked Ron. His eyes darted to the girls staircase. He wondered if he should wait for Hermione. Ginny followed Ron's gaze.

'Hermione left pretty early this morning. I heard Parvati grumbling about it in the loo.'

Ron felt his heart sink. All he could hope was that she wasn't trying to avoid him.

'Speaking of, what's this nonsense about Quidditch scouts? Who told you that pile of rubbish?'

'Lavender,' Ron replied. Ginny's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

'And you believed her?'

'Look, can we eat, or what?' Ron snapped.

Ginny shrugged, then took Harry's hand.

It was an awkward walk down to breakfast. Ron was used to travelling in threes, but had never felt like more of a third wheel in his life. It also stung to know that once again his little sister was in a relationship. But he couldn't fault her for looking so happy. And at least they talked about the match yesterday so Ron could contribute.

His thoughts were scattered, though. Half of him hoped that he would see Hermione at breakfast. The other half hoped that he could go and find her in the library a little later so that he could have some time to think of a good enough apology.

That half won. The Gryffindor table was mostly empty, although the few students there did give them a round of applause as they entered. Sometimes there were perks to being on the team. Ron tried to ignore Harry and Ginny beside him as much as possible. Someone had left a discarded Daily Prophet, so he read the articles as he ate his weight in eggs and bacon.

'Fancy a walk?' Harry asked Ginny, breaking through Ron's concentration.

'Actually, now that the pitch is free, want to go for a fly?' she replied. 'I want to have a go on your Firebolt.'

Ron looked up at them. Harry looked like he'd won a thousand galleons.

'Yeah, sounds good.'

'See you round, Ron.' Ginny pulled Harry up from the table, making it very clear that Ron was not invited to join them.

Well, that must mean they were properly together then. Gone was any hope of this being a one-off. Now on top of everything else he was going to have to chat with Harry about treating Ginny right. He sighed as he pushed the paper away.

With them gone, there was nothing left but to go find Hermione. He didn't think he should drag it out. Since it was Sunday, the library was likely where she'd be. Ron hadn't brought any homework with him, but figured he could get Hermione to come outside with him, or find something to read with her. Whatever it took to get back in her good books.

The library was more crowded than the Great Hall, though it was decidedly not full. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing out the golden bindings on the shelves. It was mostly fifth and seventh years scattered around the tables, huge tomes open, quills scratching furiously. He wasn't looking forward to taking his NEWTS next year. He wasn't looking forward to Hermione taking the NEWTS next year either.

She had a favourite spot in the library, so he made a bee-line there. He kept his eyes scanning the tables, hoping to see her hair. No such luck. His heart gave a lurch as he rounded the corner and saw dark curls bent down over what appeared to be a small book of runes. But then he realized the hair was much too short.

Terry Boot was sitting in Hermione's favourite spot. This did not endear him to Ron. His quill stopped scratching and he turned his head to see Ron standing there. His face was rather pinched.

'Can I help you?' Boot asked.

Ron stood stock still. He took a deep breath. Hermione's bag wasn't there. Terry's was. Terry had books scattered around the table. No sign of a neat pile, the way Hermione liked to have her books organized as she worked. Terry choosing this spot could have been coincidental. At least Hermione wasn't here. He knew that.

'Sorry. Looking for something.'

Terry frowned. Ron didn't want to tell him that he was looking for Hermione.

They stared at each other for a moment.

'Have you seen Hermione?' Terry asked, breaking the silence. Ron stared at him.

'Why do you want to know?'

'She…never mind. I'm sure I'll see her later.'

All feeling disappeared from his hands. It was very clear that Terry wanted Ron to ask why he would see Hermione later. As if Ron would give him the satisfaction.

'Okay then,' he replied. Turning on his heel, he stalked off in the other direction. If Terry wanted Ron to pass on that the git was asking about Hermione, Ron wouldn't give him the chance. Now he just had to find Hermione himself.

The library proved fruitless. Pince gave him a nasty look as he left without taking a single book. He walked all the way back up to the Tower, only to find that she wasn't there either. Seamus and Dean were playing Exploding Snap by the window, but Ron turned right around and left out the Portrait Hole once more.

She wasn't in the library, and she wasn't in the common room. Where was she? For a moment he debated heading back into the tower to find on her on the Marauder's Map, but didn't want to have to explain himself should Neville be up there. No, he could find her on his own.

His next stop was the grounds. It seemed as though most of Hogwarts were taking advantage of the sunshine and good weather. Groups of students were sprawled in the grass, pretending to study while really laughing and soaking up rays. He couldn't spot Hermione among them. Nor did he think that's what she'd be spending her Sunday doing.

It was beginning to feel as though he'd walked around the entire castle looking for her. A slight panic seeped under his skin. As much as she could pretend otherwise, Ron worried that as a proud Muggleborn she was an easy target for any Slytherin wanting to show off blood supremacy. He wished she'd stick to more populated areas.

Lengthening his stride, he sped back up into the castle, wondering if she was trying to convince the House-Elves to take the day off again. It was an unlikely thought, but he was rapidly running out of ideas. As he rushed in the direction of the Kitchens, he passed Firenze's empty classroom and skidded to a halt.

It was Sunday. Hermione would be studying. She didn't want distractions. She must be in an empty classroom. Ron was going to bet money she'd be in the Transfiguration room. He took the stairs two at a time, determined to find her.

As he approached the classroom, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Smiling to himself, he pushed open the wood and prepared to see Hermione.

Two Ravenclaws sprang apart. It was hard to tell who was more shocked. Ron or the couple whose snogging session he just interrupted.

'Get out,' he told them, tapping his Prefect badge. They didn't need telling twice, scurrying out the door, giggling all the while.

Ron let out a huff of frustration. He'd been sure she'd be here. Where on earth was she?

If it wasn't Transfiguration, it must be Ancient Runes. Ron had no idea where that classroom was, but hoped he'd run into one of the ghosts who could point him in the right direction. Turning on his heel, he took a step out the door. Rather than free air, he collided with someone.

'Oof!' he heard a familiar voice say. Relief tumbled through him faster than her books hit the floor. He dropped down to help her pick them up.

'You should really watch where you're going. You could have seriously hurt-' her bossy voice trailed off. She looked at him in surprise.

'What are you doing here?' she asked in a completely different tone.

'Looking for you,' he replied, handing over her Syllabary. She took it from him and placed it in the small pile she was amassing. 'Where have you been?'

'I was in the Prefect's Bathroom,' she replied, still sounding a little bewildered. Ron tried very hard not to picture her in that giant tub. 'The weather seems nice so I didn't think I'd be interrupted.'

'It is nice.'

They looked at each other. Hermione dropped her gaze quickly, a blush painting her cheeks.

'Did you need me for something?' she asked, grabbing the last of her books.

'Yeah,' Ron replied. 'I want to talk about what happened last night.'

The blush vanished from her cheeks. She'd gone pale instead. This surprised him.

'I mean, I want to say sorry.'

'Sorry?' she repeated, slightly breathless.

'For…for yelling at you. I shouldn't have.'

Hermione looked away. She grabbed another book from next to her and added it to her pile.

'Ginny told you then?' she asked, busying her hands with her copy of Righteous Runes.

'No, it was…never mind.' He scratched the back of his neck which was rapidly beginning to burn. He figured that announcing to Hermione that Lavender was the one to come up with the story might not go down very well.

'I'm not a mind-reader, Ron.' Tucking a curl behind her ear, she determinedly avoided his eyes.

'Obviously not-Divination is the one class you weren't top in.'

His admittedly poor attempt at humour had done nothing to soften her. He could practically feel the eyeroll she was giving him.

'If you'd told me you wanted to play Quidditch professionally, I would have supported you, you know.'

Still her eyes stayed fixed on the covers of her books. Ron felt a chill go through him. Why was she avoiding him in this way?

'I don't.'

Hermione gave a humorless laugh. 'Really? Could have fooled me.'

'I mean, not really,' Ron continued. 'Pretty much every bloke dreams about being on their favourite team at some point, but it's not…I mean, I'm not…' he swallowed. She turned her face back towards him. Not fully. Not enough to see the warmth in her eyes.

He took a deep breath. 'I do want to be an auror.'

'Good.' Hermione answered, picking up her last book. 'Because you'll make an excellent one.'

Ron scoffed. 'Moody told you and Harry you'd make good Aurors. Never said a thing to me-'

'Moody never saw how I react under pressure,' Hermione cut in, hoisting herself up to a standing position. 'And Harry marches headlong into danger without a moment's hesitation. Also, he wasn't even the real Moody. Of course a Death Eater isn't going to tell you that your strategic skills and cool head in dangerous situations are excellent Auror skills in order to encourage you to become someone who could catch him.'

'Right.' Ron felt the tips of his ears turn red. Hermione had given him a bolstering speech like this once before. McGonagall had been polite, but distant during his career talk with her the year before. But he'd left the meeting with the distinct impression that his head of house didn't quite believe he could make it. Hermione had been the one to tell him he could.

'Trust me, or don't, Ronald,' Hermione sniffed, bringing him back to the present moment. 'It's not my job to make you believe in yourself.'

'No,' he cut in quickly. 'I know it's not, but-'

'Was there anything else?' Hermione asked, yanking the strap on her bag so it sat better on her shoulder. 'I have quite a bit of work to do.'

'Oh…er, no…' Ron was bewildered. After he'd been poisoned, they'd agreed not to let petty arguments come between them. And now it seemed like this one might.

'Fantastic. I'll see you around.' She pushed past him into the classroom, leaving him confused in the doorway.

He watched as she set down some books and took out a roll of parchment. She seemed oblivious to his gaze upon her. Apparently lost in thought, she looked out the window. Her shoulders slumped. Not in the usual way, where she tottered through the corridors with half the library on her back, hell bent on solving her latest homework struggle or striving to make conditions better for some magical creature. No, something was amiss. Ron wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Quiet as Scabbers used to be, he crept over until he was at the desk next to her. Sometimes having to tiptoe around the twins paid off. With great effort, he managed to move the chair out with a non-verbal spell and settled down into it.

'Are you alright?' he asked. Hermione jumped.

'I thought you left.' She still trained her eyes to the patch of blue sky out the tower.

'Not until I'm sure you don't think I'm a complete arse.'

'You might have to wait for ages then,' she quipped quickly in response. But to his surprise and delight, it made her finally turn her head back towards him.

There were bags under her eyes that certainly weren't there yesterday. It made him feel awful to know that he had made her so upset. Taking a deep breath, he lent towards her, elbows on knees.

'Listen, even if I was sort of yelling it at you, I meant what I said. Anybody in the ministry would be happy to have you. Dad would be thrilled to have you join his department. You could have your pick of the lot.'

The hint of a smile touched the corners of her mouth. This bolstered him.

'And you'll always have Harry and me to make sure that it doesn't go to your head.'

The smile grew infinitesimally. She turned her gaze back to her parchment.

'I've never asked,' he began to say, well aware that he wanted to keep her talking in the hopes that they could stave off a disagreement, 'what do you want to do after Hogwarts?'

Her hand, readying to pick up her Eagle quill, froze. Slowly she turned to look at him. He was struck by the bags under her eyes once more. She stared at him. Then to his horror, her eyes began to well. Oh bollocks. Now he'd gone and made her cry again.

'Shit!' he swore. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to…'

A manic chuckle escaped her lips. She brought her hand up to stop it.

'I don't know,' she admitted. The words were muffled behind her fingers.

'You don't know?' he repeated, surprised. Hermione Granger, who had the exam schedule memorized the moment appeared. Hermione Granger, who could recite fifteen facts about nearly any topic. Hermione Granger who could point out exactly where a particular book one needed from the library could be found didn't know what she wanted with the rest of her life. It didn't seem right.

With shaking hands, he watched her wipe away the tears that had collected under her eyes.

'It doesn't matter anyway,' she muttered. The words seemed more for her benefit than his.

'Of course it does,' Ron countered. There was a screech as he dragged his chair closer to hers. 'You should have something to look forward to after all this is over.'

Hermione look at him through red-rimmed eyes. There was a glimmer of anxiety in their depths.

'There is nothing for me if Harry doesn't win.'

Whatever sensible thing he'd been expecting Hermione to say, it wasn't close to this. He found himself unable to answer her. Swallowing hard instead, he tried to stop his own hands from trembling.

Taking a shaky breath, she continued. 'I've been reading about what happened to muggleborns the last time You-Know-Who was in power. We weren't allowed to hold ministry positions, we had special hours that we could go shopping. They tried to take away our wands. We had to apply for special permits to marry for merlin's sake. Not to mention I know all about what happens in the muggle world when someone in power decides that a particular group is inferior.'

The fear was swimming in her pupils. Ron felt his heart beat faster. Dad had talked a bit about what it was like for muggles in the last war, but it seemed a step removed. Hermione in front of him was solid, real. Even though he had tried to defend her, tried to instill in her the knowledge that she should tread carefully, seeing that she recognized the danger filled him with tension.

'There's no point in pretending that I have plenty of options. The way I see it, I have one. I help Harry to survive. To win. That way even if something happens to me, there'll-'

'Don't.' He whispered, unable to hear her form the words. She was too special, too good for him to ever countenance the thought of her no longer being around.

She looked up at him. Tears clung to her lashes, sparkling dew on the grass when he rose early to fly.

'It's a possibility, Ron. Surely You-Know-Who is aware of who I am and that I'm close with Harry.'

'So am I.'

'But you aren't muggleborn.'

'My family are blood traitors!' Ron cried. 'I don't wanna go through this again!'

'S-sorry,' she muttered through a fresh wave of tears, seeming surprised that he'd raised his voice at her. 'I'm just…' her voice trailed off. Her eyes glanced back out the window. They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione still crying. Ron trying to think of anything that might make her feel better.

'Dumbledore's still here. You-Know-Who won't try anything as long as he's around.' Ron hoped the words would give her more comfort than it gave him at the moment. She turned her tear-stained face to his. Grim acknowledgement seeped through her expression.

'Dumbledore isn't infallible. Nor is he getting any younger.'

'But he isn't giving up. And neither should you.'

'I'm not giving up,' Hermione countered. Eyes wild, she looked him dead in the eye. 'I'm trying to be prepared.'

Ron swallowed hard again. It was difficult to know what to say.

'I'm…I'm scared.' Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. If he didn't know her voice intimately well, he wouldn't have known it was her. Gone was any trace of bossiness, of self-assuredness, of all the things he loved about her.

Ron usually tried to keep the war out of sight, out of mind. The moments when Harry came back from Dumbledore with new information brought it into focus. Judging from Hermione's reaction now, he reckoned she didn't have the same luxury. That through the whole debacle with Lavender, through recognizing that Harry was pining for Ginny, through all the Quidditch, through all the Prince stuff, Hermione was keeping focused on the bigger picture.

Tears continued to leak from the corners of her eyes. Ron wanted nothing more than to wipe them away. He didn't dare. Instead he tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. Her eyes opened at the touch, glassy with unshed tears.

'Me too,' he whispered, not entirely sure where this moment of honesty erupted from.

She choked back a sob and reached out for him. Her arms flung around his neck and she placed her head under his chin. For a moment he sat there, stock still and awkward. Then instincts took over and he wrapped his arms around her heaving back.

It was impossible to say how long they remained like that. Ron couldn't feel his legs after a while, but felt that Hermione's need was much greater than his at the moment. Maybe he'd been wrong earlier, when he assumed that Hermione had been talking to Antony about her worries during their prefect rounds. Maybe Hermione had been keeping everything to herself once more, holding everything in until she was liable to explode.

Well, no longer, he decided as he rubbed her back. The least he could do was get them back on the same Prefect rounds. Some dedicated alone time where they could talk away from the rest of the tower. Just the two of them.

He was fairly certain that she never broke down like this in front of Harry. The thought made him feel a little stronger. He rather liked being the one she turned to. That the whirling, brilliant dervish that was Hermione could come to him to slow down and feel better.

'Hey,' he whispered, more into her plait than her ear. 'You'll always have me, alright? I won't leave you. We're in this together.'

With a sniff she lifted her red rimmed eyes to his. 'You can't promise something like that.'

'Watch me.'

He patted her on the back once more, feeling like there was nothing that could possibly split them up.

After a few more moments, she sniffed again and pulled away. She avoided looking at him as she muttered a thanks.

'Anytime,' Ron smiled, pulling away the damp jumper from his vest underneath. 'You know you can talk to me about anything, right?'

Hermione froze, staring at her parchment. The curls at the nape of her neck were suddenly in stark contrast with the flush of skin underneath.

'Hermione?'

'Likewise,' she replied, giving him a quick, tight smile. He noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes.

A thought niggled in his brain as he watched her set up to begin a Charms essay.

What did Hermione feel she couldn't talk to him about?

A/N- Hope you all enjoyed this latest installment! Writing Ron's promise was only mildly heartbreaking, I swear. Next up will be Hermione, and perhaps a decision she's made about what to do re. her current predicament. The only hint I can promise is that this will not be the last interaction between Ron and Terry...

Lot of love,

Ashy