RON

Ron awoke the next morning to a pounding headache and feeling once again as though he'd drank poison.

He opened his eyes experimentally, and was blinded by a multitude of tiny shimmering stars behind his eyelids. He blinked rapidly as if to clear them away.

Groaning pathetically, he fumbled for his wand on the nightstand to lower the shades and reduce the orangey reflection of sunlight off his Cannon's posters.

His wand fell with a clink and rolled under his bed.

"Harry," Ron called out for help. With effort, he heaved his head up high enough to look for Harry.

The camp bed looked slept in, but Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Ron whimpered. He pushed the blankets off him and tried to sit up. His room spun around him, now making the tiny stars move faster, ricocheting off his eyeballs like stunners.

Bits and pieces of memory flashed before him: Ginny laughing at one of Harry's Honesty Shot questions, the way Hermione's back arched as she spun. Fred (or was it George?) helping him back to the house. The rest of the night was blotched out with dark spots.

A familiar sharp rap sounded on his door.

"Mum," he grunted. His voice came out hoarse. "Not right now, I'm -"

"Don't think I don't know what you all were up to last night, Ronald Weasley," his mum said as she turned the knob and came in. "Your sister looks like a ghost and smells like a cellar. And look at you. How could you let it get that far?"

Ron pushed himself up higher on his pillows. "It was Fred and George's game, Mum."

"Your brothers didn't force you to consume half a bottle of brandy. Your Auntie Muriel gave us that bottle as a Christmas present, you know." His mum's heavy footsteps stampeded around his narrow room. As she spoke, she opened the window to let fresh air in and waved her wand to send several dishes hovering down to the kitchen. "And that was your choice. To go along with it. Was it not?"

"Well, yeah, but I - "

"I expected more from you. First this girlfriend of yours and now -"

"Oh, bloody hell," he groaned.

"Language!"

"I just mean, she's not important, Mum, she's just -"

"Not important?" She said, with her hands on her hips like that, she seemed to loom over him, double her normal size. "What exactly do you mean, 'not important'?" Ron spluttered, trying to backpedal, but it was no use. She began talking at a dizzying pace, asking him a series of mortifying questions, which apparently he didn't pass as she finished with: "I think you'd better stay up here until your father comes home."

"But we go back to school this evening!"

"He'll be home in a few hours," she said, before slamming the door behind her, the force of it causing his window shades to rattle.

Ron collapsed back on his bed, wondering why he was being blamed for everything. It was Fred and George's game, he didn't force Ginny to drink all she did. But Mum wouldn't blame sweet, little Ginny. No, of course not.

He laid there stewing, frowning at his ceiling. His rubbish attic room was getting uncomfortably hot and his empty stomach began complaining.

An hour later, there was a second familiar knock at the door.

Strong, but tiny.

"Hey," Ginny said, pulling a face as she tiptoed around piles of clothes on the floor, pushing his dragonhide Keeper's gloves across the floor with the edge of her foot.

"Could you not kick my stuff?" He said, watching her closely as if she might try knicking something.

She ignored him. "Mum says you're grounded," she said, sitting cross legged on Harry's camp bed.

"Yeah, somehow everything's my fault," Ron said, wishing she'd go away. "What do you want?"

She leaned her back on the wall, pulling the pillow across her lap and looking oddly sheepish. "What do you think we should do about Harry?"

"What about him?" Ron asked, his anger dissipating, wondering now where Harry had been all morning.

Ginny smoothed out the wrinkles across the pillow and said, "He didn't eat breakfast. He came down a few hours ago, mumbled something about a walk and has been outside staring at the pond ever since."

Ron ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his hazy head. After the Grangers drove away yesterday, and after Ron had ensured Hermione was taken care of, he joined Harry and Ginny in the garden. Ron had known just by the way Harry stood that he should've come earlier: head held low, shoulders and back slouched forward, as if his body was bowing under the weight of his head. Ron remembered what Hermione had said, that first night back for fifth year when everyone took sides whether or not to believe Harry had fought Voldemort: "See, this is exactly why I don't want to tell my parents… They'll get scared, pull me out of school. Harry will think it's his fault. We need to be there for him, Ron. Both of us."

Convincing Harry that he wasn't solely responsible for the destruction of the Wizarding World? Old hat.

But there was his wincing expression after Ginny had asked what an "Oplomoletrist" was that stumped Ron. He looked embarrassed, oddly evasive and remained clammed up since. Ron hoped Harry's mood change after Honesty Shots would stick, but apparently alcohol wasn't a long lasting cure.

"He didn't say anything else?" Ron asked Ginny.

She shook her head, peering out the window where they could just make out the dark shape of Harry by the pond.

"Just leave him alone for now," Ron said, as though a Healer, handing out a prescribed treatment. "And if he comes inside, I dunno, just distract him or something."

Ginny's eyes grew wide and the corners of her mouth twitched.

Ron heaved a sigh of responsibility, "Fine, I'll do it later… You've been weird around him again. You know that?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What was that yesterday with the butter dish?" He asked, referencing her blushing at the kitchen table, the same blush she'd had when she visited the hospital wing after Harry's head got smashed in by McLaggen. "You don't… you know … again do you?" Ron asked, gesturing his head toward the window.

Ginny crossed her arms, fixing him with an intense stare. He knew he only had a few seconds to say what he wanted. "You should know he's got a lot on his mind right now."

"I know that," she said defiantly. "I was there with him yesterday."

"Sure, but there's more stuff… Stuff you don't know about," Ron explained.

"Thanks for the reminder," she said, and something in her expression made him consider reaching under his bed to grab his wand, just in case. Ginny shot to her feet, and Ron winced backwards. But she crossed the room, and reaching for the doorknob, she turned to say: "Have you ever considered the possibility that there's stuff you don't know?"

"Wait!" He shouted as she closed the door. "I'm starving, can you-"

The door slammed behind her.

Half an hour later, a third knock came to his door. A softer, kindlier knock this time. The door creaked open, revealing soft, bushy brown curls followed by Hermione's bright brown eyes.

He sat pin straight up in bed, sending his head stars shooting in all directions.

"Ron?" She asked. "Are you awake?" By the time his eyes could focus, she had entered the room, carrying a tray of breakfast. The smell of bacon was glorious, with those crispy edges his mum always got perfectly charred.

"Bless you, Hermione," he said, as Hermione lay the tray across his lap and sank to sit on the edge of his bed.

"You're welcome," She said. "Feeling any better? Ginny said Fred and George were up with you all night."

She stole a blackberry off his tray and began scanning the school photos and Cannons posters on his wall. Ron nodded, fixating on his food, trying very hard to control his imagination with her sitting on his bed like that. All cross legged, leaning casually over to one side, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. Suddenly he was grateful for the tray across his lap and how the windows had been opened to let the room air out. Hermione's eyes roved over the mess of clothes, school supplies and Quidditch gear on the floor. "I'm always telling Harry to tidy up in here," he murmured through mouthfuls.

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Is that…?" Hermione walked over to his desk, reaching to the bookshelf above, pulling down a small glass pumpkin with the etched label "Honeydukes", and just below in smaller slanting letters "Halloween". She cupped it in one hand and opened the lid by the stem. "The holiday assortment we got third year? I can't believe you kept it!" She grinned down at him, looking pleasantly surprised.

Hermione focused on placing the pumpkin back on its shelf. "You and I should go next weekend after the Apparition lesson," she said, turning her back to him now, scanning his books.

His stomach swooped at her invitation.

"Yeah, maybe the Easter stuff is on sale now."

The supplemental Hogsmeade Apparition lessons had given him an odd, conflicting set of emotions. On one hand, there was the ever present fear of severing a limb (the screams of one of the Hufflepuff girls' losing both her arms last time still haunted him). But afterwards, he got to spend two additional hours in the village with Hermione. Following her in and out of stores. Pointing out objects, making jokes to see if she'd laugh. Getting drinks just the two of them afterwards.

Thankfully Lavender wouldn't be able to go. Her birthday was after the Apparition test, so she'd be taking it next year.

His stomach squirmed in guilt.

"I think the eggs were undercooked," Ron said, frowning down at his empty plate.

Hermione turned to see that he was finished. She gathered up his tray, saying, "I'd better go. Your mum doesn't know I'm up here."

—

Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny returned to Hogwarts later that evening. They'd just made it to the corridor leading to Gryffindor's common room when the Fat Lady's portrait swung forward, revealing Lavender. His stomach twisted and Ron didn't have time to react before she launched herself into his arms, wrapped her spindly arms around his neck and began kissing him.

It used to fascinate him the way her body pressed against his, but now he inched backwards like she was invading his space. He saw Hermione duck her head and march through the portrait hole without looking back.

When he finally extracted Lavender, they were alone in the passageway. The others had abandoned him. He loosened her arms around his neck and pushed her away. Ron took a breath, and said, "Listen, Lavender. We need to talk."

At first he had trouble looking at her directly. He forced his eyes up to see that she was on high alert, like a hound trying to pick up a scent.

He'd spent the better part of this afternoon piecing together a speech for what he might say, but now looking into her suspicious face, he couldn't remember any of it.

"Do you think we should… take a break or something?" He asked. There was a gasp to his right, and he turned to see the Fat Lady intently listening in.

"What? Why are you saying this?" Lavender breathed.

"I've just been thinking, and - "

"She isn't happy about our relationship, is she?" Lavender spat, crossing her arms. He could feel the intensity of her stare on his face.

"Erm…" Ron said, buying more time, trying to figure out the "she" Lavender might be referring to. Was she talking about Hermione? His mum? How could she possibly know what his mum thought? "Well… she wasn't too happy about it…"

"I knew it," Lavender said, now shaking her head with a murderous expression on her face. "Don't you remember what I said, Ron?" Lavender continued, her face softening, those big wide eyes blinked up at him with concern. "It's not your job to make everyone happy. Especially not her."

She reached her arm out, hesitantly at first. Then meeting no resistance, she hugged him tightly. And he let her.

What she said wasn't entirely wrong, but wasn't he doing just that by allowing her to comfort him like this when he intended to break it off with her?

And besides, he wanted to make Hermione happy. Wanted to see her smile like she had in his room this morning. Wanted her on his bed, not Lavender. And he was being an arsehole for messing her around, allowing her to get her hopes up again.

"Gobbledegook," Ron said, pushing Lavender away again. Her look of confusion was answered as the portrait hole swung forward to emit them.

His break up attempt had failed, and Lavender began clinging even closer that week. She'd now developed an annoying habit of watching their Quidditch practices. As soon as he touched down on his broom, she'd call, "Good job, Won-Won! I'll be waiting just outside the door!" The others on the team had noticed, and now half of them mockingly referred to him as "Won-Won" in the locker room.

He'd tried several more times that week to sidle into a break up conversation with Lavender, but each attempt seemed to merely give her rebuttals strength, as if hacking at one would produce eight more. At this point he was lost, and had no idea how to dig himself out.

The morning of the Apparition lessons down in Hogsmeade turned out to be a drizzly one. Bundled up in raincoats, Ron, Hermione and several other sixth year students hurried down the path to the Village.

"Well, it won't always be good weather when we Apparate," Hermione said, squinting up at the mirky skies. "I suppose it'll be good practice."

"Good for who? Whoever's mopping me up after I Splinch myself?"

"You're going to be fine, you've done it plenty of times before," she whispered, squeezing his arm, and giving him an encouraging smile.

The lessons prior to this one had gotten subsequently more challenging. Now, the exercise was to Apparate from one end of the village to the other. He's gotten fairly confident in his abilities, as long as he could see the destination hoop he was deliberating on. But now the misting, gloomy day hid the target on the opposite side of High Street.

Twycross, the Apparition instructor, had them line up in single file. Hermione predictably shuffled to the front of the line, pulling him alongside her.

She stepped forward confidently, giving Twycross' assistant her name. This was the furthest they'd been asked to Apparate before, but it didn't seem to phase her. She stood confidently at the start line, holding herself with perfect posture. Hermione performed a delicate twirl and disappeared.

Next, Ron was waved forward by Twycross' bored-looking assistant with a clipboard. "Name?" She said, barely audible between the obnoxious smacking sounds she made with her gum.

"Ron Weasley."

The rain splattered down on the cobblestone streets, making Ron's hands feel slippery and uncoordinated.

"I don' see a Ron Weasley," she said. Ron's heart began to race. There must be some mistake. Did he forget to sign up for the last lesson? He tried to peer over the clipboard, but she hid it from him. His mind went into panic. Had he done so terribly after the last lesson that Twycross took his name off the list? "I see Ronald Weasley. Tha' you?" She peered up at him, barely opening her heavy-lidded eyes.

Ron let out a breath of relief, "Yeah, obviously."

The assistant stopped chewing her gum. "I don' care for your tone, Ronald Weasley," she said, glaring up at him. After a long pause, she began smacking her gum again. "Your turn, then," she said in a clipped voice, indicating with her quill to the starting mark.

Ron shook his hands free of rainwater. He took a steadying breath, and said, "Destination… Determination …" the assistant was still smacking her gum loudly beside him, distracting him. He gritted his teeth and restarted. "Destination … Determination …" Hermione's voice replayed in his head You're going to be fine, you've done it before plenty of times before. "Deliberation!" He said, turning his heel on the spot, slipping on the wet cobblestones.

An immense, suffocating force crashed down on him from all directions, lasting only a moment before: CRACK!

He continued to hold his breath, but looked down at his feet, hoping to see that all his appendages were still in tact. No severing pain came, but he saw he now straddled a brightly colored hoop.

"Well done, Mr. Weasley," squeaked Twycross. "But you'll need to focus more on your deliberation to get both feet in the hoop."

Hermione began clapping enthusiastically, and rushed to him. "You did it!" She cried.

Ron grinned, feeling as though he might've Apparated across Britain. "But I only got one foot in the hoop, though."

"Oh, that won't matter. On test day you'll only need to go half that distance, and indoors too!" She squeezed his arm and smiled brightly up at him.

Boosted by her encouragement, Ron was able to perform at least four more successful attempts, landing center of the hoop each time. He barely registered that it was raining any longer, in fact it had turned into a pleasant, gentle mist.

When the hour was up, the sixth years were allowed to spend two additional hours in the village. There'd been two more Apparition lessons before this one, and each time the village was eerily quiet, but he still wasn't used to it. He had a festive vision of Hogsmeade - always teaming with students coming and going from the train, or exploring the shops during Christmas time. But this year, several of the shops had closed, even boarded up their windows. The ones that stayed open felt like a gloomy, warped version of their past selves.

He stood close beside Hermione under the awning, sheltered from the rain, holding out his sleeves for her to perform a drying charm outside of The Three Broomsticks. He brushed up close to her, delighting in the way her shoulders pressed into his chest.

Thankfully the mood of the Three Broomsticks seemed to have preserved most of its atmosphere from years before. Probably the only shop that had. The hum of anonymous conversation, the shifting of chairs across the wooden floor, the low flickering light from lamps on the walls. Hermione claimed a booth in the far corner while Ron got them both Old Ogden's Ale, per her request.

"Here," she said, opening her bag to retrieve money to compensate him.

He pushed it away. "Don't worry about it, I've got it," he said, despite being keenly aware of the empty weight of his pockets, he had used the last of his term's allowance to pay for the drinks.

"Have you got a chance to speak with Harry?" Hermione asked before taking a sip.

"Not much," Ron said. "I think it's just his No-One-Should-Be-Involved-With-Me thing, but every time I try to snap him out of it, she's waiting for me after practice." Hermione nodded slowly. He'd gotten more comfortable talking about Lavender to Hermione, but it was still a tense topic for them. He continued carefully, "She thinks you asked me to break up with her."

"Oh?" Hermione said, taking another long swig of her drink. "Well, for the record, I do think you should break up with her," she said.

Just then, Ron got the unnerving sensation that he was being watched. He looked toward the bar to see the Patil twins, their heads close together, whispering menacingly, and pointing at him and Hermione. "Oh, bloody hell," Ron said.

"That's good though, isn't it?" Hermione said. It was true, maybe if they ratted him out to Lavender, she'd finally ditch him. "Here," Hermione said, sliding across the leather towards him, close enough their thighs touched.

"I dunno," he said, taking a deep breath. "I figure I should try talking to her again."

He caught Hermione's eye and the background noise of the pub fell away.

The slight dampness in her hair made that lush, jasmine-scent stronger. When he inhaled through his nose, he could nearly taste it. He blinked his eyes lazily and inhaled deeply. He felt lighter, like he was floating.

It was impossible to know what they were thinking, these women. Worse, still, was to know how to communicate with them. Every encounter he'd had over the last week had either ended with them ignoring him or shouting at him.

Well, except for now with Hermione. He seemed to be doing alright so far.

And as glorious as it was for her to be speaking with him again, there was still so much more left to be said. They hadn't fully returned to how they were before, like it had been between them last summer. He desperately wished to take down the walls they still kept up, but worried he'd say the wrong thing and she'd end up yelling at him. Or worse, ignore him completely.

Meanwhile, he couldn't think of much else that week aside from the Apparition License Examination. Every one of his brothers had passed on their first attempt. And if he failed, he'd have to wait months to take it again. There'd be no freedom to go where he wanted that summer. He had visions of being able to go visit Harry at the Dursley's, or Hermione at her parents' house.

When the day of the examination came, his anxiety and anticipation seemed to steam off of him, making the air around him feel thick and sticky. Hermione led him in a few deep breathing exercises that relaxed his nerves, but mostly because it gave him an excuse to inhale her jasminey scent without looking like a wanker.

The test was administered in alphabetical order. So he was left waiting in the hall as the hours ticked by, students were called in one by one, until only he and Blaise Zabini remained.

Ron knew he was next. He paced back and forth, but couldn't shake the feeling that Zabini was staring at him. It made his skin prickle.

His pacing took him near Zabini once again. "Hey, Weasley," he said as Ron passed.

But Ron continued on, determinedly ignoring him. "Did you catch that in the Prophet last month about the Fawley's being driven mad? Mysterious, isn't it?" he said, making Ron stop in his tracks. "Does it make you think twice about associating with that Mudblood Granger?"

Ron whirled around to face him, "Don't you dare call her that."

"But you like your Mudbloods, don't you? You and your blood traitor sister."

Ron drew his wand from his robes, pointing it directly between Zabini's eyes. But he continued to lean against the wall, wearing a bored, almost disinterested expression. This only infuriated Ron further, and he was about to ditch his wand and start whomping on Zabini with his fists when the old door to the testing room squeaked open.

"Ronald Weasley," the test examiner called.

With a great effort, Ron lowered his wand. "I'd better not hear you say another word about either of them again, or else I'll -"

"Or else, what? You'll point your wand at me again?"

Ron glared at Zabini, furious with himself for missing the chance to curse him before the examiner came out. He'd never spoken more than three words to the git, and here Zabini was, threatening his family. Ron squeezed his wand, considering just doing it, cursing him bad enough to send him to the hospital wing. Right here, right in front of the examiner.

"Ronald?" The examiner called again. He recognized the voice, making him turn his head. It was the bored bubble blowing girl from the other day. "Oh, not you again," Ron said through gritted teeth.

It took all his effort to turn his back on Zabini and follow the test examiner into the room. It was one of the larger unused classrooms, now under bright lights. But Ron missed half of them, still seething from what Zabini had said in the hall.

As Twycross and several additional assistants set up the Apparition hoops, Ron's mind was reeling - what the hell did Zabini mean about The Prophet artcle?

The bored girl was now reading scripted instructions in a monotone voice.

Why would Zabini mention Ginny? Did he even know Ginny?

Ron picked up enough of the instructions to determine that he was to Apparate through a series of hoops. Large ribbon-like numbers were conjured above him, poised at five minutes, ready to begin counting down.

He tried again to settle his nerves, ease his mind enough to focus on the test. But it didn't help that several pairs of examining eyes were bearing down on him from all directions, judging his every movement. His palms felt sweaty. His heart was racing, as if it were preparing to be Splinched any minute now.

He closed his eyes, the timer started counting down. Ron repeated the three D's and turned on the spot. And he did so several times until he reached the final hoop. He let out a sigh of relief as he looked down to see both feet inside the hoop, no tearing pain, and all appendages intact.

The examiner walked up, scrutinizing him from all directions, finishing by looking straight into his face and saying, "Failure."

"What?" Ron said in disbelief. "But I'm in the hoop! And I've got all my parts!"

"Missing eyebrow. That's a fail."

Ron's hands leapt to feel the ridges above his eyes, and found she was right. The ridge where his left eyebrow normally resided was now oddly smooth.

Hermione had waited for him just outside the test exit door. "How'd it go?!"

Ron couldn't look at her. "I failed."

"What?" She said. Hermione seemed to pause, waiting to see if he was joking before lowering her voice and asking, "What happened?"

"Eyebrow," Ron said, pointing to his face. "Listen Hermione…" he said, and on the way back to the common room to meet up with Harry, he told her what Zabini had said before the examination.

"I wouldn't worry about it, it sounded like he might've just been trying to get inside your head before the examination," she said, trying to placate him. "A bit of bullying he probably picked up from Malfoy."

"But he threatened you and Ginny. Why would he even bring her up?"

"First of all, Malfoy and his friends have called me a 'Mu' - that - since second year," Hermione said, turning faintly red. "And, well, Ginny's really popular now, isn't she? He probably just knows she dated - is dating - Dean."

"You weren't there, Hermione," he insisted. Maybe she'd just been so used to Malfoy's taunting, it didn't quite bother her enough. "He sounded like he knew exactly what happened to those Purebloods in the paper."

Her eyebrows drew together, considering what he said, "Maybe… It certainly is odd he'd bring that up specifically…"

"You don't suppose Harry's right, that there is some plot with Malfoy? Maybe Zabini is in on it?"

"Oh, not you too," she said, as they rounded the corner towards Gryffindor Tower. "Either way, we'd better not mention it, not yet. Tonight is about finally getting that memory," she said with determined finality as she lead the way through the portrait hole.

–

"Can we all just acknowledge that it was me who thought of using Felix Felicis for Slughorn?" Ron said as the three of them entered the boy's dormitory after dinner. They watched as Harry rushed to his trunk, ruffled through it and extracted the sock containing a little golden bottle.

"Yes, Ron, it was very clever," Hermione said, twisting her hands in anticipation.

"And I didn't even ask to use it before the exam," Ron mumbled, but Hermione caught it and patted him sympathetically on the arm.

They turned to see Harry taking a measured swig of the potion and pause, waiting for it to take effect. "What does it feel like, Harry?" Hermione asked as Harry's expression transformed abruptly. He started grinning like a madman, practically bouncing up and down on his heels, and convincing them that he was meant to attend Aragog's funeral this evening.

Ron and Hermione exchanged bewildered glances, but he laughed at their reactions, as if pitying them for not being able to understand. And without another word, he pulled the Cloak over himself with a flourish and disappeared.

The two of them followed the sound of his footsteps down the stairs. But once they entered the common room, Ron heard a shriek and lost track of Harry. He instead turned to see Lavender barreling down on him. "What were you doing up there with her ?" She screamed.

Ron realized with a jolt what it must have looked like. He and Hermione coming down from his dorm together. "Oh, we were - er - just - "

"I can't believe you!" She was advancing on him, he backed up several steps so that he was now standing behind Hermione. "How many times have I asked you to go into your dorm?!"

The force of her angry stare felt like she had multiple pairs of eyes, all fixed directly on him, examining his every movement.

Ron didn't know if she expected him to answer, "Er- a f-few times, I think?"

Lavender ignored him. "Padma warned me about you! She kept saying that all you'd talk about at the Yule Ball was her . But I defended you! I really thought you'd changed!"

Not knowing where to look, Ron peered down at his shoes, waiting for her to continue.

"I should've known, I was so stupid… AND YOU!" Lavender shouted, stabbing a finger in Hermione's face. "Prancing around with your nose in the air, you really think you're better than the rest of us, don't you?!"

"Oi! Don't speak to her like that!" Ron yelled back, stepping forward between them.

Lavender's eyes had turned dark and beady, glaring up at him in rage. Her hair flowed around her like wild, wispy tendrils.

"Oh, so now you're defending her?!" Lavender's bottom lip trembled and tears began rolling down her face. "Did you ever really care about me?!"

Ron opened his mouth as if to answer, but no words came out.

"Where's the necklace I gave you?"

"Er … I dunno, I -"

Lavender returned to furious, "FORGET IT! I don't want it back, I don't want anything from you. I'm breaking up with you!"

The room had fallen silent, all heads turned to watch the failing spectacle of his relationship. He waited, saying nothing before he realized she did expect him to respond this time.

"Er - Okay," Ron said.

"What do you mean 'OKAY'?!"

He shrugged one shoulder and let it drop. "I mean, that's okay with me."

Lavender shouted out in frustration. "That's 'OKAY' with you?!" She shrieked, coming forward to shove him. Tears now flowed freely down her face, mixing with her eye make-up, giving her dark stains and smudges under her eyes. "After months of me forgiving you, being the perfect girlfriend to you, and you're just 'OKAY' with me breaking up with you?!"

Ron winced and shrugged his shoulders a bit, unsure of what to say.

"I hate you, Ronald Weasley!" She shouted, and rammed into his shoulder before sprinting off to the girls' dormitory. Pavarti followed closely behind her, throwing a livid look at Ron and Hermione as she passed.

Ron couldn't help feeling guilty as Lavender and Pavarti disappeared from view. It wasn't exactly how he'd planned on this going. He kept hoping that Lavender would simply stop having feelings for him too if he avoided her long enough.

He could feel the eyes of the other Gryffindors follow him and Hermione as they sat on one of the empty sofas. The common room slowly returned to its normal volume, but Ron still felt very aware of people staring and muttering about him.

He remembered that night of the Quidditch match when they'd gotten together, how Lavender kept telling him that she'd fancied him for months. It'd made him feel desired, and that was new and honestly so attractive. He'd never had anyone pay such close attention to him. She laughed at nearly everything he said, asked him a hundred questions, and she had this lipgloss that made her taste like strawberries when she kissed him.

Yet all the reasons he initially liked her had become all the reasons he'd wanted to end it with her. It was uncomfortable to be the center of her attention. She never left him alone. And when they weren't snogging, they had nothing to talk about. He realized he didn't even know much about her.

He never wanted to make her hate him, particularly not to scream it in front of his entire house, and he should feel terrible, yet he found his body fully relaxing into the couch for the first time in ages.

Particularly now that Hermione was speaking to him again.

Ron chanced a glance at her seated beside him. She was quiet, nose in a book, as if they hadn't just been shouted at in front of fifty people by his now ex-girlfriend.

"Are you alright?" he asked Hermione.

"Me? You're asking me if I'm alright?" She looked up, eyes wide. "When you were the one verbally assaulted? I thought she might curse you."

"Yeah, well, I could've blocked it, if I wanted," Ron said, tilting his head up. "But she was insulting you."

Hermione bit her lips between her teeth. "Yes, Ronald, I'm alright," she said, smiling faintly and bringing the book back up to her face. "Just glad for it to be over, really."

Ron took a deep breath in and gazed into the fire. He loved his conversations with Hermione and the back-and-forth way in which they spoke. The way he could keep up with her, banter with her, this girl who never shied away from a challenge. He had to earn Hermione's attention, but when he did it was worth every second. And making her smile was like winning a prize. He detested the thought of anyone else beating him to it. McLaggen and Krum, they weren't good enough for her. Probably no one was. But they hadn't shared all he had with Hermione, they didn't understand her like he did.

Sometimes he'd sit thinking, strategizing what moves he could make to be the one she kissed instead. He desperately wanted to know what that was like. And now he wanted to know what Hermione thought of Lavender being jealous that the two of them were supposedly in the boy's dormitory alone together. Would that be so ridiculous? So out of the question?

Ron heard more hushed voices and his protective instincts kicked in. His sister and Dean were speaking quickly, as if arguing. It hadn't been the first time this week he'd noticed it.

"What d'you think is going on over there?" He asked.

Hermione followed his gaze to Ginny and Dean standing close to the portrait hole entrance. Her eyes narrowed, studying them as well. "Haven't you meddled with them enough?" she sighed, turning back to her book.

"I'm just saying, they don't look too happy," he said.

"Well, I don't see how that's your business," Hermione said, but she continued to sneak quick glances in their direction.

"Not my business? Hermione, she's my little sister," Ron said, making Hermione roll her eyes dismissively. "Besides, I think she might - " he dropped his voice and looked around to ensure no one could hear, "I think she might fancy Harry again."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "You do, do you?" She was holding back a smile as if she were amused but not wanting him to know it.

He waited for her to respond further, but she simply smirked at the pages of her book. "Well, what d'you reckon?"

"I couldn't say," she said, and flipped a page.

"Oh, come off it. We know you girls talk."

"We?"

"Me and Harry."

Hermione laughed, "So the two of you talk, then?"

"Well, he's my best mate, isn't he?"

Hermione hummed softly and nodded her head, as if conceding. She reached up and pulled at her hair tie, tossing her head back, letting her curls dance around her shoulders. He loved whenever she did that, as if all the day's work was done and she was getting ready to finally relax.

"It wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Ron said, feeling slightly dazed.

"What?"

"Them two. Harry and Ginny."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I mean, if it has to be anyone, I'd be fine with it being Harry."

"And what does Harry think about that? If you two talk so much."

"Oh, he's too busy with the memory, the prophecy, and everything," Ron said wisely. "Besides, he's got Quidditch to focus on… it helps keep his mind off all the You-Know-Who stuff."

"You're right, a bit of snogging has never been a good distraction," Hermione said, looking slyly at him out of the corner of her eye.

Ron spluttered, feeling revolted. "That's not - they wouldn't - not what I meant…"

"So, just so I understand," she said slowly, closing her book. "You're saying that if Ginny has to date anyone, you'd want it to be Harry. Yet, you wouldn't want them to kiss. And that's all besides the point anyway, as Harry's too preoccupied to be in a relationship?"

"Yeah, that's right," Ron nodded. He looked around the common room again just in time to see Ginny disappear through the door towards the girl's dorm. "I just feel bad for Ginny, you know, I don't want her feelings to get hurt again."

"I'm sure she appreciates your concern," Hermione said, patting his hand and standing up.

"Where're you going?" Ron asked, the sofa now feeling empty.

"To check on Ginny's feelings," Hermione said, smiling brightly at him. "Goodnight, Ron."

—

The next morning over breakfast, Harry recounted several details of the night before, how he'd successfully retrieved Slughorn's memory and gone to Dumbledore's office straight afterwards. He paused the story when Hermione ran off to ask Flitwick a question before Charms class.

It was Ron's first time alone with Harry in what felt like a week. "Oh, Harry. I've been meaning to ask. What was that last question you had in Honesty Shots? You said 'Have romantic feelings for…' who?"

"Oh, erm…" Harry furrowed his brow. "For … erm… the Fat Lady."

Harry didn't lie often, but when he did, he was terrible at it.

"Odd one, mate," Ron said.

"Yeah, I know. Not my finest."

"Did anyone's glass move?"

Harry smirked, "I could've sworn I saw yours jump a little."

"Lucky for her," Ron laughed. "She could do a lot worse than me, I'll tell you that."

A hundred or so owls began soaring in to deliver the morning post. A wrapped package landed in a dull thunk on the table beside them, soon followed by a mass of grey feathers. His family's owl, Errol, lay slumped, apparently unconscious from the effort of delivering the package.

"Pathetic, he is," Ron said, shaking his head while Harry tried to revive Errol. Ron took up the package, which was addressed to him, inspecting it to find that it was in the shape of a book. "I didn't order anything," he said, wondering what it could be.

He tore open the attached letter:

Dear Ronniekins,

There comes a time in every man's life when he must lean on the guidance of wiser men who've come before him. And after last week, we could see that you need more help than most. This book has been passed down from Weasley brother to Weasley brother (although it seems to have been the only book that Percy hasn't bothered with, judging by his treatment of Mum). Trust us on this one, and give this a thorough read.

You're welcome,

- George (approved by Bill and Fred)

P.S. Do us all a favor, would you? And think twice before lending this to Harry.

"Fred and George are seriously giving me a book? " Ron said, looking incredulously up at Harry, who had managed to pour a few drops of water into Errol's lolling beak. "As if I don't have enough to be getting on with."

Harry simply shrugged. Ron shoved the book into his bag and forgot about it for several weeks.