The Gloriana Set

Surprises

The walk back to the castle was good for Ron, and he was mostly sober as he and Hermione climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"Can we sit by the fire a bit, Hermione?" he asked as they entered the portrait hole.

She bit her lip, looking up at him. "I don't want to fight," she said.

"No fighting, I promise."

They settled on the sofa by the fire. It was after midnight and the common room was dim and empty. Ron lay their cloaks on the armchair and sat facing her, his arm along the back of the sofa, much like Malfoy did the night of the Gryffindor party. Hermione glanced at the curtain still covering the bloody letters. It had been weeks since the message appeared, and they were no closer to figuring out who did it.

"Mi, I still don't get it," Ron said, almost pleadingly. "Why all the Slytherins this year?"

Hermione felt like pretending she didn't know what he meant, but she was suddenly so tired of games. "I'm not entirely sure, myself," she said. It was rather odd—if she'd wanted to date outside Gryffindor, why not Ravenclaws or even Hufflepuffs? Well, maybe not Hufflepuffs. Ernie Macmillan? Justin Finch-Fletchley? Ewwww.

"You think Malfoy has turned over a new leaf," Ron went on, thankfully ignorant of her mind's latest puzzling detour. "You think he's handsome and funny." He sneered the last word. "I've seen you trying to hide your smiles. You like the whole bad-boy Slytherin asshole thing."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe I like that Malfoy and Theo treat me like a woman and not a book with legs."

"I do see you as a woman," Ron's blue eyes gleamed at her. "You can't have forgotten."

"That's just sex," Hermione said bitterly. "The rest of the time, I'm just a walking library to you."

"That's not true," Ron said, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair. It made her uncomfortable, not the way Malfoy's hand did—when she couldn't help but stare at the long, pale finger tugging at her curl—but tense and crawly. Ron's purposeful touch had a not-quite-right feeling she couldn't shake.

"Ron," she said gently, "you gave me a book pin for my birthday."

His hand stopped. "You said you liked it."

"Look," she said, tugging her hair away, much like she had with Malfoy. Was she doomed to play out this little scene with Theo next? What would she do if he sat on this sofa and played with her curls? Life was truly baffling.

"Hermione, you said you liked the pin," Ron repeated, bringing her back to the conversation. "You like books."

"I do ... but that's not all I like. I like personal gifts, too," Hermione said. "I don't want to criticize your gift, Ron, and it's perfect if we're just friends. As friends, I'm always happy to receive a gift from you and have you in my life. But it's not exactly romantic."

"What about Harry's present? He gave you a paperweight."

"Yes, it's shaped like an otter," she said. Ron looked blank. "An otter, Ron. My Patronus."

Ron stared at her, all color fading from his face. "Personal," he said.

He looked so woebegone that Hermione couldn't help but hug him. "Oh Ron, you are my best friend, with Harry. I love you. I just don't think we're good as a couple."

Ron held her face in his hands. "But I still want you," he whispered, looking at her lips.

She pulled back. "It's not meant to be."