They'd dated, and only God knows why.

It had started around the middle of our fifth year at Hogwarts, or so she says. I'm not really sure, since she didn't tell us until the summer. She had become a "couple" with the one person I had least expected; Draco bloody Malfoy.

I suppose I should have figured it out. If I had been her, Hermione Granger, I probably would have. She was always the one who knew things before anyone else. And I don't care what anyone says, not even the smartest person could figure things out that fast. Secretly, I think that Madame Trelewany was incorrect. In fact, Hermione was very in tuned with psychic forces. She could read minds.

So anyway, I was pretty upset at first. I mean, it was Malfoy! I admit, I didn't talk to her for months. Poor Harry was in the middle, because she kept trying to reconcile with me through him. And as stupid as I can be, I'm not blind. We kept our distance for a good while. Months, even. I don't reckon we had a proper conversation until a month after the breakup.

He'd been the one who initiated it, of course. The little bastard tried to cover it up with a bunch of fake sap about how he really loved her and such, and was doing it to protect her from the evils of Lord Voldemort. Well, I personally didn't believe a word of it, and after she finished crying (which took days; honestly! It was just Malfoy) I don't think she believed it, either.

Looking back, I guess I really was a pig for ignoring her the way I did. It not only strained our friendship, but mine with Harry because he was stuck in the middle. I remember in the last days before our seventh year in Hogwarts, a month or so after Hermione had told us, he had been staying at the Burrow. I'd made some snide remark about them, and Harry had gone ballistic. "Will you stop complaining about their relationship and just admit you're in love with her!?"

That sort of caught me off guard.

I mean, yeah, I loved Hermione. I had known her forever. She was one of my best friends. But did I love her the way Harry was implying? It took some tough consideration on my part. I stayed up half the night thinking about it. And then I'd finally come to the conclusion that, yup, I was head over heels for the gal.

And that, of course, just made me ignore her more.

It made me even madder to know that she was gallivanting about with that swine. When they'd broken up in late November, I'd been delighted. I didn't talk to her, but I watched her more often. Was a bit gentler in my actions. No words were spoken because I wasn't ready to use them. And words were more her thing anyway; I wasn't what anyone would call eloquent.

It was Christmas Eve when I spoke to her the first time. It'd been about six months, an appalling amount of time for anyone to go without talking to someone they loved. She was sitting on this little balcony in a small chair, looking out into the grounds. She was wrapped up in a big blanket, her eyes watching something intently. It took me a moment to realize it was him; he was flying about the pitch, completely oblivious to her gaze. It made my skin crawl. "Hermione?"

Her eyes did not shift, but her voice wasn't as cold as I had suspected, either. "You've decided to talk to me again, eh Ron?"

I shrugged even though she couldn't see me and took the chair next to her. "I'm sorry, you know," I paused, "I've never been sorrier about anything in my whole life."

She glanced over at me, sizing me up and trying to see if I was being sincere. I was, and she could tell. "It's okay. I wasn't in any particular mood to talk to you, either." She gave a short, somewhat bitter laugh, "I guess it was all for nothing, though, right? You were entirely correct in your analysis, Ron. . .it didn't last."

Suddenly, I felt guilty. I had said that to her, the day she'd told us. Harry had been upset, but I was raging. I'd said a lot of nasty things that I shouldn't have. "I would take it back if I could." For awhile, we sat in silence. It just felt good to be on speaking terms again, even if we didn't talk. Then a question came to mind; one that had bothered me ever since Harry had opened my eyes at the end of summer. "Hey, Hermione?"

Her eyes had once again returned to the lithe figure in the skies, yet she didn't seem as interested. More like she was only watching him for the lack of a better thing to do. "Yeah?"

A lump rose in my throat. "Did you love him?"

She gave a small smile. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you're going to still talk to me if I answer yes."

We both laughed, even though it really wasn't that funny. "I promise I will." I replied solemnly, crossing my heart.

She sighed. The kind of lovelorn sigh that spoke so many different sentences without saying a thing. Regretfully, she nodded. "Yes, yes I think I did." She gave a listless shrug, "But not anymore. Toward the end. . .he just wasn't the same. I suppose I was more in love with this fictional idea of him than who he really was." A beat, "You know what I mean?"

I had no clue, but I shook my head yes anyway. Again, another query nagged at me. "Hey, Hermione?"

Raising her eyebrows at me, she answered, "Hey, Ron."

Quickly, I blurted it out without giving myself time to think otherwise. "Do you think you could ever love me?"

In a moment, she'd figured it out. You could see it on her features. She knew my little secret. The real reason why I had blatantly ignored her. If the roles had been reversed, I wouldn't have caught on. But Hermione, she was as smart as they come. She reached out and took my hand in hers. "Maybe, Ron. Maybe."

She didn't look back at the flying boy. Not once.


Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Please refrain from suing me.

A/N: Not much to say. Just a little fic that popped into my head. Hope you liked it. Review, for it makes me smile. And honestly, what better reason do you need?

Special thanks to my beta, Aria (Penname Elluxion), who apparently has something to say about this fic. Hopefully, she will review soon because I'm dying to know what she thinks. Haha.

That's all folks!