Author's Note: Well... This may seem a little awkward, but after over a decade... here I am! A thousand apologies may not be enough for the absence (at least, for anyone who still reads this story, or favourited/ alerted). Truth is, I somewhat lost my faith and/or inspiration for this story (frankly, I lost my inspiration for writing, heck, for life altogether). It'd been some rough times, mostly mentally-wise, but it got better, and I decided to attempt, once again, writing on this one. My prompts were essentially two; my slight intolerance to incomplete fics, and the couple of reviews, after so many years, that still had faith that I might update someday. Frankly, the story isn't complete yet, however, two and a half chapters are written, and the outlines for the chapters are revised (summing up the original-and quite unnecessary- 20 chapters into 14), so I'm hoping for the best. Mind you, though, I am now a person 10 years older than the one starting this story, and, even though I'll try my best to re-immerse in this story and its essence, my writing style may differ somehow.

Thank you for your patience this far, and I sincerely hope this chapter will make amends for the long wait- thus, enjoy!

My heart is pounding so fast, faster than what is possibly considered healthy; my pulse is all wild and uneven, thumping madly in my ears; yet, it does little to weaken my hearing, especially at the time being, when, honestly, I would do with some temporary deafness. For, I cannot possibly hear- much more bear! - such words of… of madness and irrationality. My temperature gets higher and higher, to the point I feel my chest and head boiling hot, due to an arising of feelings too vivid and startling: anger, wild ache, unfairness. They are all there, growing more and more inside my chest, weighting greatly in my lungs, preventing my breathing, strangling me unbearably. The anger I feel for it all, though, this passionate feeling targeting straight towards it all is even huger, if possible; too eager to fight it back in every known way, so justice will be brought back to its rightful place.

All thanks to my friend's stubborn words.

"I still cannot possibly understand the reason why you feel so, Harry! Such- Such thoughts are co-completely irrational!" My words come out powerfully, despite the slow growing of a lump in my throat. Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, one hand running in between his raven locks of hair before resting on his hip.

"Irrational!" He spits the word angrily and starts laughing sardonically, instantly making my anger levels rise to a point unknown before now. "I could say that irrational is the way you behave, Hermione, especially around this… this person!"

My heart halts beating for a second or two before eventually starting again more furiously, trying desperately to cope with the rage flowing insanely with the blood in my veins, circulating in the entirety of my body with fieriness. I cannot understand why Harry does such a thing, staining my happiness with so much fury and bitterness.

"This person has a name, Harry, so you better start using it right this instant!" I warn my friend lowly, in an angered attempt to untangle all these confusing, unreasonable knots of our relationship. Harry seems to ignore these particular words and after sighing deeply, he looks at me with much softer eyes, pleading and even quite sad. My heart panged a bit and my breath hitched at the sight of such a look of his, so… defeated, in a way.

"Hermione, please… Just try to see what is happening here… He came out of nowhere, all of a sudden, surprisingly so, he also managed to become Head Boy and immediately starts spending time with you, like he's usual to it, all the while he barely speaks to anyone else!"

His words hit me more than I should care to admit. I feel like bleeding profusely due to the sharpness of these words of so twisted, false reality. A truth, a fact of life, in the eyes of another, under the filter of an ignorant, can appear as something else entirely, as it seems; a normal, beautiful face of reality that comes out monstrous and so hideous, like a reflection of a beauty in a concave mirror. My insides twist with the power of a tangle of haywire sentiments.

"And it never passed your mind that he may be shy or uncomfortable? He was home-schooled all those previous years and suddenly he's here, having to live in a castle along with some hundreds of other students! If any of you just tried to get to know him, you could see how much of a great person he is!"

"Ha!" Harry exclaims almost sarcastically, pointing almost childishly his finger at me, making my blood hotter within my body. "He's making you believe that, Hermione! I saw him, I saw what he did! He's hugging you and kissing your forehead and he's so sweet and gallant to you, even though he barely says a 'hi' to me or to anyone else! Doesn't that seem a bit suspicious to you, Hermione? Because it does to me! Only in the course of a couple of months, he's like attached to you to the hip!"

I feel my world fall and shatter just before my eyes, just with a little, harsh pushing occurred by Harry's fiery speech. This mingle of sentiments, sharp and aching, shift more and more comfortably in my chest, declaring their win over me and my body in a way that is almost frightening. I'm afraid of all these, riled-up emotions, especially the fury that seems to conquer over my body easier than ever imaginable to a human being. The sentiment is growing fierier and fierier, roaring wild inside me, searching madly for an escape. In its way, it mates with this feeling of unfairness, thus making my eyes sting before getting a bit wet. I need to blink the forming tears away because I still haven't made my point clear to Harry, as it seems.

"How can you speak like that? You barely know him, however, you make all these accusations, with no evidence at all! This is entirely out of character."

"No- this is entirely out of your character!" Harry cuts me off, raising his voice a bit to me. Despite my own anger, I feel a tad relieved about the seclusion provided by the Head Prefects' common room. "How do you let him be so close to you after such a little time of knowing each other, heh? You let yourself fall under his charm, Hermione! He came here and he immediately focused his entire attention on you- no one else! I believe that alone speaks volumes!"

"What?!" I exclaim without thinking, my first reaction towards, more or less, already known, but still shocking and painful words. I take a deep breath, one that reaches every little cell of my body, in a desperate motive to gather my wits. Yes, anger is prevailing and is pulsing madly all over my body, but, despite my previous thoughts, I have to tame it as much as possible, because I now understand that a further, bigger explosion will be even more disastrous. "I trust him, Harry. I trust him! This should be enough for you, shouldn't it?"

Harry also takes a deep breath now, prolonging a new silence between us in an agonizing way, even though I simultaneously thank him silently in a way, because he's taking his time to tame his own, growing-fast temper and rage. Eventually, he speaks:

"At this particular matter, I'm sorry to say this, Hermione, but 'should' doesn't really exist. It- It isn't enough. I do not trust this creep at all. The behaviour of his I witnessed on your birthday… he was accustomed to you in a way that definitely seemed more than friendly… and it wasn't even a month after the start of the term- not even a month! He's eyeing everyone else like a weirdo, he speaks only to you… his manners are certainly suspicious, Hermione."

I want to burst, just because I feel my spirit being too limited inside the bounds of my body right now. "Tha- That's worlds away from the truth! Ron's nothing like that! And for the record, I remember very well Ron trying to speak to you that very same day, but you were the one grunting and ignoring him completely!"

Harry's eyes widened with surprise for a couple of seconds, most probably because he didn't expect this kind of verbal attack from me. After these seconds, though, he really seems back to it. "Oh, don't you see?" He asks rhetorically, an odd, bittersweet, little smile etched on his face. "Don't you just see what he's trying to do? He first sets all of his charms on you so you can trust him wholly, adds a fake attempt to approach your friend here and there, when he knows you are present so your good opinion upon him is enhanced or whatever, and then, when he's absolutely sure that he gets you, he starts seeding his ideas in your head. He's making this; he's trying to separate you from your friends, from me. He's trying to take you away so you'll be an easier victim, a little, hurt mush in his hands that he'll try to comfort any way he can… Just don't be surprised if, in a month or so, he dumps you for the next one on his list when he'll get what he wanted from you…"

If the former words of his were hurtful and sharp, I swear, I cannot find words to describe the impact of these words on me. I remain speechless and breathless for some unknown time, unconsciously hearing my heart's now idle beating, the little cracks of fire from the fireplace nearby, all the while staring at the person just before me in confusion. I observe every feature, every little characteristic of his face, trying to identify something as familiar, so my heart would be soothed a bit… but suddenly, all the characteristics seem strange and unknown under my current scrutiny. I cannot find anywhere my best friend, my brother, and all I can see is a stranger with a discreet air of past familiarity, because I'm sure that a person who loves would not speak to a dear one like this, no; he wouldn't try so hard to shatter their happiness, he wouldn't be so stubborn upon their facts, so unwilling to hear the reason unless had had one of their own. But Harry… his reasoning seems so absurd, and, as much as I try to find something understandable in his theory… I find nothing. Nothing except bitterness and anger, ones that similarly addressed to Malfoy all these years, as well as some odd kind of disrespect towards me, as he accuses my judgment, as he clearly accuses me of irrationality and lack of thoughtfulness. He even seems certain that I'll fall victim- that I'm stupid enough to fall for charms inexistent! My head is spinning because it is so hard, so hard, to concentrate on one thing or feeling at the time, when there are so many, powerfully demanding my attention. For a second, I seriously think of slapping him, a reaction that would physically show only a portion of the millions of things I have currently within- yet I master myself as well as I can.

"I've never expected such cruel words coming out of your mouth, Harry Potter, especially when they indirectly associate with me and my sense of judgment. When I say to you that I trust Ron, you should believe me and respect the fact, because I'm fairly sure that I never, ever, gave you, or anyone else for the matter, the right to doubt that judgment. All of your assumptions are outrageous and if you, at least, gave Ron some time and a mere chance to get to know him, you'd see it yourself! But instead of that, all you do is fall victim to everyone else's rumours and presumptions. You never did so before, Harry, so why now?" Even though at first my voice was strong and collected, as the words that were spoken too many times in various ways were coming out, my tone became softer and softer, but not in a gentle way, but in one that showed almost perfectly my sadness and slight complaint over such a heavy matter. I really feel that our argument becomes quite ridiculous, just because both of us speak of the same things all the time, with the probable difference of a word or two, without a hint of some sort of fruition or success in the present or future for any of the sides. We have both speculated our reasoning again and again, yet neither seems the least convinced by the other's words. Despite my current, overweighed anger, the sorrow is just as vast in my chest, not only as regards the hideous unfairness towards Ron, but also as regards the current state of my relationship with Harry, a relationship that all these years rarely met with any hardships, much less any of this shocking and heartbreaking extend.

"This is all me speaking, Hermione, all me!" Harry speaks loudly, immediately re-capturing my entire attention. "The fact that everyone else can see what I see is making my belief all the more stronger! Hermione, just try to see for a moment; he's odd and cares not at all about you; he found you available and eager to help, and wanted to give it a shot with you, gaining whatever possible out of this chance. And he certainly does his job well, doesn't he? He managed to fool your better judgment, have you fallen under his spell… should definitely tutor McLaggen or Malfoy on the subject."

At first, I'm simply and downright angered by Harry's outrageous inability to catch a mere word of mine; then, I'm furious with him managing to take it further and further, push my buttons effectively with a comment that is definitely too much to bear. My blood is boiling to the point of evaporation; my heart is almost ready to escape from my ribcage with the sole intention of doing some kind of harm to its formerly dear Harry. My mind, though, has to take over, however it can, so I do not do something I will regret later with great severity.

"Harry, that is enough!" I cry out with a rage as clear in my voice as some of my hurt; my voice's breaking is quite inevitable at the moment. "I cannot stand hearing you speak like this! You know nothing about Ron!"

The fact that Harry's first reaction is sarcastically laughing does not make the matter better at all. "Oh ho, and you certainly do! A couple of months are more than enough to get to know a person that well, isn't that right?"

Here we are again, with Harry using the 'time card' again…! If only he knew how much time Ron and I have spent in each other's presence and company… But, on the other hand, this wish is also something I quite dread happening, at least right now. I know how understanding Harry can usually be if you explain things thoroughly to him, but still, this matter is so complex and extraordinary as it is, so unusual that Ron had to wait almost a couple of years until he was sure I'll be accepting over such an otherworldly reality! So, how can I expect Harry to understand it fully and accept it, embrace it even, in a matter of minutes or hours? His opinion matters to me so very much, almost like no other's, despite what my current, profuse anger may indicate, so I cannot bear his negative opinion over such an important, crucial matter to me. Frankly, I know things are bad as it is now, but how will Harry react now if I confess all the truth about the quality of my relationship with Ron? Most of my anger gradually disappears, as it sinks into the depths of my stronger weakness and sorrow, as well the inability to think clearly anymore on the matter. My eyes are filled with tears yet again, though, this time, I have no more strength to restrain them; I let them make their weak, shameful appearance.

Harry, at the lack of response on my part, as well the sudden appearance of my tears, seems to lose any hints of anger himself, and his look towards me changes shiftily to a softer one, one that shows remorse and anxiety. He's silent for some time, maybe in search of words to say, or maybe because he doesn't know what should be said, thus he stays stunned by my sudden change of mood. We look at each other mutedly for Merlin knows how long, me crying and Harry observing me, as well as the impact of such an argument on our long, deep relationship.

"I don't want to fight, Harry," I whisper unconsciously after a while, with voice hoarse and broken. Harry nods instantly and takes some steps towards me, hesitantly bringing his hand to rest on my shoulder in a comforting gesture that warms and soothes a bit my heart.

"I'm sorry, Hermione… I don't want to fight either," he whispers as well in an apologetic voice, one that really seems sincere. "I am really sorry, Hermione, but you mean so very much to me. You're my first and very best friend, and now you're a sister to me, and in no way do I want to see something bad happen to you. I didn't mean to say something harmful to you, I just… I just don't want to lose you, especially to someone that certainly doesn't deserve you at all."

Hearing his last words, my head turns towards him with lightning speed, looking at him unbelievingly. "But, Harry, this is just as harmful to me, hearing you say this kind of words for Ron and actually mean them. You meant those words!"

"Frankly, it shouldn't affect you at all! You shouldn't be concerned at all, because you just don't deserve—"

"Harry, you're doing it again! Just stop this instant!"

"Hermione?"

The softness and suddenness of the voice make my heart skip a beat and I immediately turn around towards the portrait, just to witness Ron standing there, with his bag hanging loosely from his shoulder and the portrait just clicking shut a little further behind him. Despite the fact that all of our fighting had been about Ron, I had, in a way, forgotten about his actual presence; and seeing him standing so tall right now, so near to me, and looking at me with eyes all wide with confusion and some tints of concern, I feel quite astonished and frozen, not really knowing how to react. Ron keeps looking at me for a second before his eyes widen a lot more and the next second, he's right next to me, staring at me with anxious eyes.

"Is everything alright? Why are you crying?"

"Oh," I breathe, completely forgetting my current, tear-stained state. I quickly wipe the evidence of the previous sadness and distress away and try to give Ron a smile, even though I am sure of its weakness and fakeness. "It's nothing, really. I'm alright."

"Are you sure?" He asks hurriedly, his voice showing perfectly his deep concern. "You really seem upset- is something wrong?" Then, I see him turn his attention to Harry as he has just noticed him. "Oh, Harry! Do you know what is it? Do you know why is Hermione upset? Has something happened to the both of you?"

From under my eyelashes, I observe Harry; this sort of attention from Ron seems to stun him, because, for a moment, he looks frozen and quite wide-eyed, staring silently at Ron. Then, after a moment I see something gleam in the depth of his eyes and he eventually reacts.

"Yeah, I'm quite sure that I know what is wrong with Hermione- it's you!"

"Harry!" I exclaim immediately, not at all believing this is happening. Yes, Harry may be angry with Ron, may even be angry with me and how I interact and behave around Ron, but I never imagined him doing this, coming out like this, and openly accusing Ron of causing my distress. My eyes travel from Harry to Ron, trying to catch every reaction and translate any apparent look. Ron's round eyes widen with shock and he stares at Harry with confusion.

"Excuse me?" he asks Harry after a couple of short moments, his tone soft and puzzled, showing his sincere attempts to find out what is going on. My heart is beating too fast, to the point of skipping some beats every now and then, and despite my exceptional need for air, I'm not able to breathe right now. Harry seems quite appalled by Ron's question, or even by the tone of his voice or innocent look, and for a moment I think he considers not answering. But then again, I know he's just angry and will not let such a chance to speak his mind out pass.

"You heard me, Head Boy!" Harry snaps much more furious than I have imagined or feared. "You're the cause of all these!"

"HARRY!" I cry out now, unable to let any more ridiculousness come out and destroy us all; I was stupid enough to let it go this far. I make my way between Ron and Harry and grab my friend by the forearms, trying desperately to move his attention and probably wholehearted glares away from Ron. "That's quite enough! Just—just get out of the common room."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I haven't finished my talking here with your fellow Head Prefect!" Harry answers immediately, his voice, painfully so, dripping abundant amounts of sarcasm.

"I don't care!" I spit out, barely minding how shrill my voice is coming out at the moment. "I'm not quite well at the moment and I want you out of here." I give Harry a hard look and an almost shove, and Harry now seems torn between his urge to keep shouting his accusations to Ron and his probable concern for me and my well-being. I give him another push and he eventually closes his eyes for a bit and takes a deep breath before opening them again and giving us both a quite unreadable glance.

"Alright, Hermione, whatever you want," he murmurs rather unwillingly, still eyeing Ron carefully. "Take care and be careful."

I scoff as I see him leave the Head Prefects' common room, the only reaction I can have right now towards his last words. I am completely mentally exhausted, I cannot do much more, even though I know that I have to speak with Ron now and undo all the damage Harry managed to do with his sayings. For a moment, I do not dare to look at Ron at all, fearing what I may witness right at this moment, and all I can do is stare at the back of the portrait without really seeing it, my mind completely elsewhere. After a moment or two, I eventually take a deep breath and turn around, not really seeking the courage and the strength I would really want to have at the moment, but having the full knowledge that I need to speak to Ron now, despite my mental strength.

What I see as I turn around is more than enough to break my heart into millions of pieces, too many to still hold a mere possibility for a possible, future remedy. Ron is still standing where he was minutes ago, quite frozen still, with his head hung and his eyes clouded and frozen looking at the floor. I feel a pang in my chest, hurtfully taking my breath away, but I still try with all my remaining might to close the painful distance between us and lean my head closer to his, desperately seeking his look and attention. It takes a bit, but, eventually, Ron glances up at me from between golden eyelashes, and exhales loudly, his entire expression quite hurt.

"Is it true?" He whispers eventually after another long moment passing, his voice tiny and almost fearful in its utter despair. I gasp absentmindedly and my hand blindly seeks for his arm, for I don't dare to look anywhere but at his face. At the contact, Ron raises his head a bit, so he can look more properly at my face. "Am I the cause of your distress?"

"What?!" I cry out, really not seeing this happening. How can he believe so, after knowing me for so long and so well? Can really Harry's words affect him so much, as to distrust himself, as to have doubts growing so fast and wildly in him? The pang increases and multiplies, so many of them attack my chest, giving me little chance to breathe properly. "How can you believe so, Ron?" Ron's blue eyes are now definitely on me, staring with a million sentiments at my own: hurt and confusion, self-loathing, despair, and sincere innocence. I drown in this ocean of blue and sentiments, feeling too much myself, and I need to say more, to give him immediately the reassurance he rightfully deserves.

"Harry said so," he says simply as if declaring a solid fact. I feel more desperate and insane than probably ever, and, for a moment, I am not really able to give him an answer, not because there is not one to give, but simply because my mind's all blank right this instant. The deep breaths I unconsciously take do almost nothing to soothe my alarmed body and bring it back to a somewhat calm state; nevertheless, I attempt my answer to Ron, just because his state is more painful to me than my own.

"Harry knows nothing," I tell him quite lamely, all the while rubbing my palm on his arm, in a frail, despaired attempt to soothe his spirits; seeing Ron, this gentle spirit so confused, desperate, and doubting himself is another shoot to my heart, one too much unbearable than the other already existent. "I might have been somewhat upset before, Ron, but, believe me, you have nothing to do with it."

Ron, after my words, stares at me carefully, like he's trying to figure something out. "So, why would he say something like this?" He asks me after a long moment, his eyes mirrors of sincere, child-like puzzlement. At this kind of question, despite it being quite expected, I freeze somewhat, unable to find a proper answer. What is to be said? I'm not quite sure about it… how could I be? Should I say to Ron how much unreasonable hatred and bitterness Harry feels for him? It would kill his spirit for sure, stain and blemish his innocence and kindness in a way unthought-of. How could I confess such a truth to him, when it would be considered a sin of the worst kind? But, on the other hand, lying to Ron is almost as much of a wrongdoing, especially when I've already covered once again such a painful truth from him to spare his feelings and good heart. The situation is getting, in a way, more stressful than the argument with Harry, and I hate my current state and position, just because I have to witness so much ache in his face, and probably manage to bring even more so in his heart. I pray for some mercy, for Ron not to be equally or more pained after my oncoming words. As I'm about to open my mouth, Ron speaks, in his low, reluctant voice.

"Is this… Is this, by any chance, about your and Harry's previous disagreement to any extent? Has it to do with it, in any way possible?"

My heart, yet again, loses another beat and the blood leaves all of my face. His way of correctly guessing situations is quite astounding and maybe even a tad eerie, in a way, and this time, especially as he's looking into my eyes with anticipation and bewilderment, is even more shocking, making matters more difficult. My throat is dry and my mouth like filled with cotton and I face a difficulty as I try to swallow. I take a couple of mouthfuls of air in frail attempts to calm my wild heartbeat down and eventually decide to speak some of the current truth, spelling it out as kindly and smoothly as feasible, so the outcome will be as painless and sharp-less as possible.

"Y-Yes, it has," I confess with a trembling, fearful voice. My eyes, despite my great fear, do not dare to look elsewhere but at his face, capturing every reaction of his and inscribing it in my heart. At first, thankfully or not, Ron does simply remain as he was, with no visible reaction to my statement apparent. Another lungful of air is needed before I continue: "Harry… Harry is not… quite as thrilled a-about your sudden appearance… I-I never told him about our connection, so he's quite estranged by the way we so casually interact and behave around each other. He doesn't do it on purpose! He's overprotective of me and he's quite stubborn in his opinions, beliefs and impressions, as well; that's why he's reacting like this, so unreasonably. I tried to explain to him so many times! But he's so obstinate; he won't believe that you mean no harm- quite the opposite, really! That's why I get upset from time to time- we argue a bit over the matter, and, despite my efforts, he will not understand! Please, Ron, do not think of it as your doing, though! It is hardly your fault- anyone's fault, really! Harry's stubborn and unaware and probably deaf as well, for he will not listen to me—"

"Hermione," Ron interrupts my unexpected course of mild rant, a fact quite surprising even to me. One moment I don't know how to speak or what to say and the next I spill quite a few beans out without really realizing. I shift my look to meet his own, which, at the moment, is nearer than expected, and… oh, dear Merlin, is that calmness I observe in the depths of his eyes? "Please, my love, calm down for a moment. Take a breath." To his simplest instructions, I unconsciously oblige, and my mere actions, along with the glorious aid of his warm, familiar scent, manage to soothe my heart to a so calm, almost lulled state that seems so extraordinary after the incidents of the day. I can do no more than remain silent and attentive, thanking him only silently for his care and kind thoughtfulness. "I understand."

These two words surprise me to a great extent. I stare with wide-open eyes at Ron, trying to wholly identify the meanings of the apparent tranquility and gentleness in his crystal blue eyes.

"What do you mean 'you understand'?"

"I can comprehend how or why Harry feels the way you say he does," Ron explains with his serene, patient tone, all the while putting his flat palm on the lower of my back, silently urging me to take a seat before he does. He sits right next to me on the couch before the fireplace and shifts, so his entire body faces me, before resuming. "It is understandable and not that much unreasonable, I come to think… You are friends with Harry for so long, and it is only natural and logical for him to react in such a way, considering he knows nothing about me or the extent of our relationship. I guess that my behaviour towards you, especially when I little do to attend to other school gatherings in spite of the necessary, may seem quite suspicious to a stander-by."

I gasp loudly at his words- especially that little one that keeps appearing all the time…

"Suspicious?! What are you talking about? Harry's quite irrational and overreacting with his thoughts and actions. He- He should listen to me when I told him about you! He may not know about you, but he knows me quite well, thus he should listen to me and trust my judgment in the least! Besides, he should give you a chance to meet more and better, to get to know each other before making any sort of assumptions!" Truth is, I once again spit my defense over Ron and our relationship out, to the point I feel quite upset once more. Ron must sense this, because he quickly gives me a wide, soothing smile that makes my heart melt, and tenderly covers the side of my neck with his warm hand, his fingers idly hiding in between my unruly curls.

"He may be overreacting, but he's not that irrational," he speaks with an even, deep and velvety voice that almost makes me forget about the matter spoken. "He loves you dearly, Hermione; that is for sure and expected. You certainly mean so much to him, so he can possibly react in an illogical way if he feels that a person as important to him as you is in probable harm or might be hurt. A stranger is usually met with doubts and mistrust, Hermione, especially under such circumstances. I admit that I might behave accordingly, having met with a similar situation as regards Ginny. It is not completely unreasonable, because it is only cause of the deep care someone feels for someone else. Harry may not listen to you now, but eventually, he will understand the situation and he'll be alright with you again like nothing has ever happened to stress you and your relationship over."

All his quite long speech amazes me to a great extent, and, for a moment, the only thing I can do is simply stare at him, maybe even gape at him without realizing it. He lets his eyes, in return, glued to my stare, not losing contact in a mere, instinctual act of blinking. This moment is getting more and more peaceful, as is the state of my heart and mind, of my entire being. Once again, with the aid of a simple, silent moment of mutual staring with this ethereal person, all the anxiety and stress leave my body altogether, taking away with them all the tension of the muscles and leaving me serene and merely relaxed, almost sleepy after so many hours of arguing and stressing over so saddening mattes. With a quite great exhalation, I let my body fall behind and almost get embraced by the coziness of the couch; as a result, Ron chuckles gently and, a second later, with more graceful and slow motions, he rests more comfortably on the couch as well, leaning the side of his face on the back of the furniture, all the while gazing at me with dazzling eyes. I give him a grateful, yet quite lazy smile, thanking him for his great contribution to my current, calmed state; for who else could honestly calm me down so quickly, efficiently and effortlessly as Ron can?

Ron sighs lightly and gifts me with a small beam before parting his lips. "I don't want to see you so riled up with upsetting and stressful emotions or thoughts; it does you no good in the least. You ought to take more care of yourself, not only in basic, biological needs, but also in mental ones. You shouldn't think too much about things."

"But, Ron, this isn't a trivial matter," I argue gently, trying to make him understand my point of view. "This is about us and how Harry reacts over it."

"I agree," Ron speaks immediately. "Of course, it is not an easy or nonchalant thing between you and Harry, in the most, but still, you should not let it affect you so fully that you are almost not able to function in your everyday life. In spite of the greatness and severity of a quarrel, we ought to still remember our needs, of ourselves and our well-being. I know it is hard, maybe too hard, almost impossible to occur at every probable incident of this nature, but still, we should attempt for it wholeheartedly."

Once again, I'm almost hypnotized by the gentleness of both his voice and his words, of their truth and even slight wisdom. I watch him as his eyes gleam and his lips stretch into this tiny, kind, yet also quite playful beam that can only be seen on this pale face. I smile back and nod eagerly.

"You're quite right… as usual," I tell him and playfully poke him on the arm, trying to stifle a burst of mild laughter. Ron chuckles at my motion and shifts a bit closer to me, childishly nuzzling his face on the cushion of the sofa 'til his chin comes to rest on my shoulder, making me laugh all the while.

"I am not always right," he whispers softly a moment after my laughter dies, his balmy breath tickles the skin of my neck and raises goose-bumps all over, along with an overwhelming, warm sensation. "I'm not perfect at all, much like most of people ever resided on Earth." I wholeheartedly cackle at that and give him a side-along glance.

"Let me have my doubts about the last one," I confess lightly and absentmindedly letting my left arm encircle his neck, 'til my hand is entangled with strands of ginger silk. I hear Ron sigh contentedly at the contact, but after a moment, he raises his look up to meet mine.

"You should, though," he answers back softly, despite the seriousness of his eyes in a magnetizing look. "I may manage to come back to Earth after a couple of centuries, but that doesn't really make me divine… You know, I still keep my faults from my previous lifetime."

"Such as?" I instantly ask, sincerely curious to hear the answer to that. I mean, I cannot frankly put Ron and the thought of the possible existence of faults together.

"Do you honestly think that I am going to share something like this with you? It's indirect suicide, that is, my young lady. You will know all about my imperfections and you will ditch me in an instant," Ron states with a teasing tone, putting for a second the pad of his pointer finger on the tip of my nose and eventually giving me a gigantic grin. I mirror the small gesture with more teasing than his.

"That is never going to happen, mister, whether you want it or not."

"That is never going to happen- me wanting such a thing…" Ron replies with a kind tone, detached from all of the previous tease. I'm not entirely sure how he does it, making a moment lighter and more playful so effortlessly, only to do it a more emotional one in a matter of seconds with the same easiness and the least of sentiments of confusion or inappropriateness. I give him a wholehearted beam, one that I sincerely hope shows how much I care, love, feel for him, and how much these lovely words of his mean to me.

"And I'm grateful for that," I breathe, leaning my face closer to his, recognizing the burning need to be as close to him as possible. Ron must feel the same need, because, at this moment, he sits straighter on his seat and leans on a bit as well, his eyes gaining a more hypnotized, warm look, his pupils dilated handsomely, his breathing coming out a bit quicker and warmer. "I'm genuinely grateful… for everything…" I say further, trying to put into meager words the gratitude I feel for his existence within, because, if there wasn't, I wouldn't ever reach and seize so many, vivid sentiments and sensations, I wouldn't experience so grand and blissful moments; and thinking about the present, I wouldn't be able to feel so much serenity and ease after so much struggle and rage and sadness, especially in the course of some moments and with the simple aid of a few, yet so precious, words. I know there is so much meaning, desperately trying to hang on to six meager words, but, deep down, I also know that Ron realizes every single thing and meaning these six words hide and hold, maybe, in a way, better than I do. He nods once, his eyes for a moment glazed as in deep thought, and then he shows me a sweet, little smile.

"There is no need to thank me for anything," he tells me simply and takes a loose strand of hair from in front of my face to place it behind my ear in a tender, slow motion. "I'm glad to be here." My heart leaps into my chest with glee.

"I'm glad you're here, too." Ron chuckles once again and leans his face closer to mine, his big eyes focusing on my eyes and lips in turns. I'm steadily losing my breath, as his face is coming closer and closer, until it is almost touching mine, until our breaths are intertwining almost sensually. My need for breath is vast, so I part my lips and gasp mutely, unconsciously also in need to take in his sweet breaths and scent, yet also in desperate need for something greater…

"Do you want to show me how glad you are?" he whispers unexpectedly, in an almost husky tone that makes my skin crawl and my heart tremble inside my chest, shaking like the weakest of leaves. My gasping is getting noisy now and my own eyes are wandering wildly on Ron's face, resting mostly on his now darker eyes and luscious, parted lips. I can't take it anymore; the tension and the craving are getting immense, unbearable in my system, surely until a future point of desired fulfillment. I know that Ron will not do anything more, that he will wait, almost teasingly, for my own, next move- and I'm certainly in no position to let him, or myself, wait any longer.

"Absolutely," I breathe nearly inaudibly and close the little, torturous gap in between, eventually bringing our lips together. Ron seems very grateful for that, for he immediately responds to it with enthusiasm, all the while embracing me tightly in his long, warm arms. Our kiss is whatever it ought to be; slow, heated, passionate, yet also somehow loving, stimulating, and certain soothe to the heart.

And, frankly, I am unable to further describe the unfolding present, so I'll simply let it go without much of a care and wholeheartedly immerse in the spell of the moment.

Thank you all, once again, for reading. Reviews would be immensely appreciated!

Take care, and hopefully, more to come soon! :)