By Veralidaine

It was raining. Again.

The castle was dark and dreary in the late-autumn weather, and the stone hallways were lit with torches, due to the fact that the light filtering through the vaulted windows was scarce and gray. Of course, it was late November, so the atmosphere was one of general dreariness. Christmas wasn’t for another month, it was cold and wet and gray for the most part, and the leaves were all losing their colorful leaves in the wet winds that racked the grounds and forest.

The weather seemed to be affecting everyone, students and teachers alike. The general dankness of the castle caused more than one person to become grumpy and unpleasant, and this resulted in teachers generally being unfriendly, and in students being hostile and depressed. The Quidditch season had pretty much ended, what with the weather and restrictions on time spent outside. There seemed to be a general increase in homework, and the weather was bloody unbearable–one couldn’t even go for a walk outside.

And even if they could, they weren’t allowed. Strict rules had been enforced since the attacks on Muggles over the summer. There were no Hogsmeade visits, no walks through the grounds, no visits to Hagrid’s unless escorted by an adult staff member. All in all, this year was really, really boring. There was no great mystery as of yet, and no adventure to be had at the moment. It was just November. In the Gryffindor commons. During one of the usual long, dreary, drizzly days that were so unfortunately normal for that time of year.

Ron Weasley sat in a stupor, watching vaguely as Hermione read aloud from a large volume–he supposed it was their History of Magic text, but then, he wasn’t really listening. The little gray light that was filtering in from one of the library windows hit her in just such a way that all of her features seemed lit up somehow, accentuating the way she looked. Ron found it very interesting, the way that the frizzy curls bouncing around her face as she read caught the light and looked…well, to be extremely corny…sort of…pretty, almost? He supposed that was as good a term as any. Of course, it was just a thought. It wasn’t like he liked her. Not like that. Nope.

Hermione looked up and sighed loudly. "Ron, you are taking notes…right?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes…Sort of." He shuffled the stack of parchment in front of him importantly, glancing in her direction out of the corner of his eye to see her reaction.

She looked annoyed.

"I’ve been reading for twenty minutes. How much’ve you got?"

Ron shrugged, opened his mouth to reply, decided that would be stupid, shut it, opened it again, thought better of it, and shrugged again. "A few sentences. Give or take…a few sentences." He shrugged yet again as she glared at him. "Look, it’s not you that needs notes. You’ve got the damn book memorized from cover to cover. You could recite it without having it in your hands. It’s me that needs notes."

"And you’re not taking any. And don’t swear, Ron." She rolled her eyes and grabbed the parchment, scanning over the rather meager marks he’d made. "Oh, honestly. You’ve written the first two sentences I read, Ron, and those weren’t even relevant."

"Then why on earth would the idiot who wrote that drivel have even put them in the book?" Ron said tonelessly. "I mean, what’s the point?"

"It’s an introduction. Most good writing has that."

"And this is good writing, how?"

She raised her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "Ron, stop arguing and take some notes, will you?"

Ron exhaled loudly, throwing his quill down on the table in front of him and glaring at it. "Hermione, it is Saturday. Saturday. Why, may I ask, are we working?"

He stared out the window at the rain. "I mean, today’s one of those days that’s just meant to be spent playing chess, or…Or exploding snap. Or something. But not studying. It’s against all natural laws. No one does homework on Saturday. It’s just not done." He glanced sideways at her.

"I do homework on Saturday," she sniffed, crossing her arms. "Is it really that odd?"

"Hermione, look outside." He waited, and finally, after a moment of just staring stubbornly at him, she sighed and looked out the window. "Right. See? It is just one of those days. We can’t study."

" ‘One of those days’?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at him skeptically. "One of what days?"

Ron shook his head. "One of those days when you want to go outside, but you can’t, ‘cause it’s all wet and cold. So you stay inside and do something quiet for a bit." He thought for a moment. "Or, in my case, you go hide in your closet where it’s at least a little quiet and play chess against yourself and hope Fred and George haven’t loosed anything dangerous in there that could be unpleasant." He shrugged, grinning. "You know…one of those days."

Hermione looked thoughtful and not, Ron was relieved to see, skeptical or annoyed. "Well, I do actually know what you mean, I think…" She tilted her head to the side, changing the angle at which the light hit her face. Ron had to stare again. "I always used to love staying inside on cold, rainy days and reading a really good book. All in one sitting. I never have time anymore, what with my duties as a Prefect, and my homework, and," she glanced at him, smiling in mock-annoyance, "helping you with your homework. But I used to love to curl up and just read, for hours at a time."

"Yeah," Ron said vaguely, staring at the now-forgotten parchment. "It’s nice not to do anything, isn’t it?"

She nodded, staring out the window, her mind obviously far away. Ron sighed, glancing across the room at the chessboard next to the roaring fire. Really, his mind was over there, strategizing and preparing to make his next move against himself in some nonexistent game. Well, except for the fact that he was a bit distracted by the girl sitting across the table from him. Hermione cleared her throat suddenly and turned back to him, curls bouncing around her face with the sudden movement.

"Well…"

She grinned, suddenly. "You know, Ron, I think we actually agreed on something."

"No, we didn’t," Ron said, smiling innocently. She looked as though she was about to argue, but then the joke hit her and she giggled.

"You’re not that funny."

"Yes, I am." He sat back in his seat, grinning at her. "Nah…Glad you actually understood me for once."

Hermione nodded. "Yes…I don’t understand you a lot of the time, Ron Weasley." She glanced up at him. "You know, for having been friends since we were eleven, I don’t know a lot about you."

Ron was a bit surprised at this. He’d actually intended to start a good-natured argument of some sort, but she was taking him seriously. Well, that was new. "Yeah. Same here." That was all he could come up with to say.

She nodded again, glancing out at the rain. It was quiet for a long time. Just as Ron was getting ready to say something, Hermione looked up. "I hope Harry’s okay."

Ron nodded, distracted again and oddly disappointed. Yes, everything did go back to Harry, didn’t it? That was another natural law–no one normal does homework on Saturdays, and every conversation must return to the topic of Harry Potter. Not that he was jealous. Nope.

Harry was currently in a meeting with Dumbledore and several other staff members. Apparently, they were discussing his recent Voldemort-oriented dreams. While Ron felt sorry for his friend for having to deal with the Dark Lord and pains in his scar and such, he couldn’t stand the concern and attention he got–even from Ron’s own family. And Hermione. But that wasn’t what bothered him, really. Well, considering the fact that his brain recited that he didn’t care about that at least seventy times a day, he couldn’t really care, right?

Right?

"He’s always exhausted when he gets back from those meetings," Hermione said softly.

"He’ll be alright," Ron said, leaning back in his seat and staring out the window. The one time they’d started to have a somewhat deep conversation…Well, deeper than arguing over nonsense, anyway. While Ron was worried for Harry, he also wished, somehow, that he and Hermione could actually talk for once. Alone. And he meant more than just an argument. Actually, Ron was had sort of convinced himself that if he didn’t do something as simple as argue with Hermione, she wouldn’t really even speak to him at all. Truth be told, she was right; they didn’t know each other that well. Sure they knew about each other, but they had never actually sat down and had a conversation. Not like he and Harry did. So basically, without the arguments, they wouldn’t talk, according to Ron-logic. And he figured that that would be thoroughly depressing.

Augh, it’s still raining…

It was quiet for quite awhile, both teenagers staring out the window. Then Hermione cleared her throat again. "’S something the matter?"

Ron blinked and pulled his gaze away from the rainy gray window. "No. Not really. I just wish it wasn’t so wet out. I hate being cooped up inside."

"But weren’t you saying earlier…?"

"Well, yeah," Ron said, shrugging, "but that’s when it rains. Like today. Just because I go play chess or something doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather be playing Quidditch. Or something else outside that doesn’t require studying." He grinned. "Weasleys don’t like being stuck inside for extended periods of time."

"From what I’ve seen, Weasleys don’t even like sitting still for extended periods of time," Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow and smiling at him. Ron grinned back. Looking nervous, she sighed, trying and failing to run a hand through her hair. Looking frustrated at the knotting and pulling, she sighed again and, leaning forward, rested her elbows on the table. "Well, I like being outside, but really, I don’t mind this. Not today, anyway. Besides, I would be bored if you and Harry went and played Quidditch again."

"Aw, come on, it doesn’t frustrate you that much, does it?" Ron stared outside again and thought vaguely of sneaking out to take a walk, even if it was rainy and unpleasant out. He thought of communicating this idea to Hermione, but he figured she’d probably go ballistic and sink into her "mini-McGonagall persona," as Ron had dubbed it, and tell him he couldn’t, or else she’d report him.

"Well, I’m no good at Quidditch," she said, running a finger along the edge of the History of Magic text’s cover. "And it gets…boring for me after awhile. I mean," she added quickly, "I’m thrilled that you and Harry are on the house team–that’s great, really–but you two are always leaving me out when you do that…" she trailed off into silence, obviously feeling that she’d said far too much at this point.

Ron was completely mystified by this sudden display of lack of confidence on Hermione’s part. "I…We didn’t know you felt like that."

She shook her head. "Forget I said it. Doesn’t matter."

"Yeah, it does," Ron said, not entirely believing what he was hearing. "Why are you being so weird all of a sudden?"

She looked up at him, biting her lower lip. After a moment of staring at him (in which Ron was exceedingly uncomfortable and prayed that his ears weren’t turning too noticeably red), she sighed. "Well…"

"Yeah?" he prompted.

She glanced at him again. "Well, you remember first year, right?"

"Of course," Ron forgot the sarcastic remarks at the moment, deciding that it was more important to let her have her say on this one, uninterrupted and Ron-remark-free.

Sigh. "Well, you see, you and Harry were always so close as friends. I mean, you talk all the time. I was just sort of…there? Really, we weren’t even friends until after Halloween. And even so, I was never really… included… the same way you two included each other." She shook her head staring at the table and tracing the designs of the wood with her fingertip. "And you know, sometimes I worry that you guys don’t really like me…that much…" She glanced up at him, but quickly looked away. "Because, I mean, I’m always bothering you about homework, or telling you that you can’t do something, or being boring or a know-it-all, or–"

"Whoa, whoa, stop there," Ron held up a hand, glancing at her worriedly. "Why would you think that?"

"Well…" She wouldn’t meet his eyes. "Uhm…I never really had any…Any real friends before you and Harry. And I guess I just keep telling myself not to get too attached, because it’s entirely possible that you two don’t like me nearly as much as I like you." She looked up, red in the face. "And I do like you two, a lot. Despite my lapses into prefect-ness, or whatever it is you call it…"

"Hermione," Ron leaned over to put a hand on hers, but jerked it away once he realized what he was doing. This confused Hermione even more and she glanced at him curiously. Ron sighed. "Look, Hermione, you have nothing to worry about. Really. I may tease you occasionally–okay, fine, a lot– about being a know-it-all or being a prefect, but really, I don’t mean it at all." She didn’t look convinced, and Ron sighed. He hated it when she was upset. It was almost as bad, if not worse, than when Ginny was. "No, seriously, don’t worry. Harry and I like you. Of course we like you. Now why would you question that?"

Hermione shrugged, obviously embarrassed and nervous. Hesitantly, Ron leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Seriously…"

She looked a little surprised at the touch. "Well…Sometimes I worry that you won’t want me around anymore, after awhile." She sighed, shaking her head, although she was obviously careful not to shake off his hand. "I dunno, this is silly. I shouldn’t have said anything."

"No…It’s good that you did." Ron caught her eyes with his. "I mean, we don’t talk that much. You said so yourself."

"Well, I’ve talked. How about you?"

Ron took his hand off her shoulder, crossing his arms. "Well…" He was not one to admit to insecurity, or, for that matter, all emotions, save anger. He sighed.

"Emm…" He scratched the back of his neck.

"Ron, come on. I won’t tell anyone…" She gave him a pleading look. "I mean, I’m sure you actually do care about things. And people. I know you pretend you don’t, but–"

"I do not!"

She sighed, lifting her hands in defense. "Okay, Ron. Sorry. Forget it." She opened the book. Ron hit himself, mentally. This was it–the chance to talk to her, without Harry or any embarrassment–the twins were down in the kitchens; the common room was deserted. But Hermione had found her spot and opened her mouth to read–

"WellsometimesIworrythatyoulikeHarryandyoutwowillforgetaboutme."

Hermione closed her mouth, looked at him, and shook her head lightly, as if to clear it. "What did you say?"

Ron cringed inwardly. Bugger. Now he had to talk. And he’d picked the worst subject ever. How was it that it was at the tip of his tongue? Why couldn’t he have picked something else? Now he had to talk about something… important. But, wait, that’s what he’d wanted, right? Ugh… This was confusing…

"I… Sometimes worry that you… uhm… like Harry. You know, like like Harry. And then you two will… sort of… leave me out of stuff, you know?" Ron tried to look at his feet, only to find, to his dismay, that he was sitting at a table and couldn’t see them. Well, he could stare at the table, then. And try to ignore the way his ears were burning.

"Oh, Ron, how ridiculous!" He looked up. Hermione was shaking her head, looking at him with disbelief and amusement.

"What?"

"I don’t like Harry! At least, not in…that way."

Ron almost automatically said something about Krum, but then he remembered the break-up they’d had and decided it was uncalled-for. Which was a rather mature thing for him to decide, given the fact that he was Ron Weasley. "Uh…Good?"

Hermione smiled warmly at him and leaned her cheek against her hand, resting her elbow on the table. "Well, we’re both insecure and silly, then, aren’t we?"

The way she was looking at him made Ron think (against his will) that he’d probably have quite a bit more to be insecure and silly about, if he didn’t stop staring at her like he was at the moment. "Yep."

She went for the book again, but Ron grabbed it quickly from her hands and tucked it under his arm, standing up and sending his chair scooting out behind him.

"Enough of this. D’you want a game of chess?"

The initial shock and annoyance of having Ron take the book from her wore off quickly, and she smiled at him, half-disapproving, half-amused. "That would be lovely."

Yes, it was awkward. They were silly and insecure, and just waiting for Harry to get back so that they could forget (outwardly) that the conversation had ever even taken place. The truth was, though, both of them enjoyed it when one of the chess pieces got knocked over and, when they both reached over to pick it up, their hands brushed and both jerked away, giggling nervously. They played about three games before Hermione’s borrowed chess pieces were too exhausted to continue, and then they both sat by the fire and talked, waiting for Harry, and complaining in between Ron’s jokes about the horrible November weather. Truth be told, for probably the first time ever, Ron Weasley did not mind staying cooped up inside for the day instead of playing Quidditch. Hermione, actually, was much more interesting. And, in the very depths of his being, he admitted it to himself.

Just this once.