Disclaimer: All the characters etc. etc. are aaaaalll property of J. K. Rowling. I only wish I owned it. Really wishful thinking.

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He couldn't sleep. The image of Hermione and…that…him, dancing together was still etched clearly into his mind. Her laugh as she tried to get Krum to say her name properly, the way she just said, "It's hot isn't it" when she came to talk to him and Harry. Hadn't she even noticed the look that Ron had on his face? They'd been friends for so long—was it that hard to tell when he was upset?

It's just not fair, he thought. I'm the one who's known her for ages, I'm the one who's been through so much with her, I should've been the one dancing with her tonight. And she looked so bloody brilliant too.

Why hadn't he asked her beforehand?

It was because you only thought of her as a friend, dung brains.

What? Because he only thought of her as a friend before? Was that supposed to mean that he thought of her differently now? What reason should he have for thinking of her any differently?

Admit it, Ron. You know what I mean.

Ron sighed. Maybe he was really shallow. Ginny had told him that countless times when he'd been Fleur-chasing. He'd denied it of course. That he was shallow. He'd told Ginny that he'd heard Fleur talking to some of her classmates and had thought she sounded like "a great girl. Intelligent. Not to mention funny." In truth, though, he'd done no such thing; he hadn't been able to get within three feet from her without tripping over his own feet.

He rolled over in his bed, making his mattress creak in the process. Harry gave some sort of cross between a grunt and a snore in the four-poster bed next to Ron's, and Ron sighed. He'd be up all night wallowing in his misery if he kept this up. He reached over to his bed-side table, searching for his clock. One of his fingers bumped against a short twiggy thing, and Ron sat up to look at it. In the dim light, he couldn't see the thing clearly, but what it was was apparent. A moment passed, as Ron simply continued to look at the little Bulgarian figurine. Then, he twirled around the broomstick in the doll's hand and broke it off with a flutter of satisfaction. The figurine looked from Ron to his broomstick-less hand, its jaw dropped open in horror, and it looked back at Ron pleadingly. Ron snorted. This was too easy.

He went on to break the doll into pieces, a leg at first, then an arm. With a smirk, he concluded his torture through tearing the head from the torso. He threw all of the disjointed pieces across the floor and picked up his shoe to grind the head under its heel.

With a satisfied smile, he climbed back into bed.

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Ron awoke with a start, panting.

He was running. Running after her, but she wouldn't stop. She was holding hands with a man in red Quidditch robes as she ran from him, cackling. "No, no, no, no. Hermione, wait" he cried out in desperation

That was the only thing he remembered from his nightmare. Running as fast as he possibly could, but not being able to catch up to her. He gave his head a shake, as though that would make him forget the dream. His attempt was futile. He turned to step off of his bed and pulled on the slippers Aunt Muriel had sent to him last Christmas. They were hideous, but they would have to do for now.

Careful not to wake anyone else up, he headed for the doorway, passing a gently humming Neville and a Harry who seemed to be mumbling something along the lines of "Chudley Cannons." Chudley Cannons? What? Well, that couldn't be it, but Ron ignored it anyway and kept walking. The kitchens would be his destinations. Nothing calmed nerves more than a cup of hot chocolate and bossing those elves around.

How Hermione would react if she heard you say that.

Ron chuckled despite himself, but stopped as he remembered the terms in which he and Hermione had left off on. He clenched his fist, picturing Krum struggling between his fingers. He tightened them, and his fingers cracked. There went Krum.

He climbed down the steps to the common room and was surprised to see someone else also up so late. The brunette was in the couch by the fireplace, and Ron almost made himself turn right back into his room as he, with a pang, realized who she was.

So, you're going to run away every time you see her? If you haven't noticed, that's going to be a bit difficult to do. You do have all of your classes with her, you know.

Not Divination.

Well, nearly all your classes. You'll have to face her sooner or later. Come on; just walk past her as though she's nothing.

Ron began to continue on forward, but found himself unable to tear his eyes off of her. Although her hair had regained its bushy status, the image of her in her Yule Ball dress was burned clearly into his mind. He realized this and groaned, wondering if he would ever be able to think of her in the same way again. He had almost made it to the door when Hermione, noticing the footsteps, turned to look at who it was and met his gaze.

"Oh, Ron. Hi."

He whipped his head back toward the Gryffindor common room exit and ignored her. She was the one who'd committed the wrong. Not him. "Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Her accusing voice from earlier rang in his ears. Ignore it, Just ignore her, he thought to himself

"Ron, please. Wait. I have to talk to you."

His resolve completely crumbled at the sound of her voice, which sounded almost pleading. Struggling to make his face expressionless, he walked to the couch where she sat.

"What do you want?" It was more of a statement than a question, really, and he made that simple phrase scream, Leave me alone, you're a waste of my time.

Hermione flinched. This wasn't going to be easy. "I…I just um…wanted to apologize for how I lost my temper today. I don't know why I got so angry. I guess…."

Ron relaxed. Finally, she seemed to be coming to her senses.

"…it's just that Viktor had been so sweet to me all night, and I couldn't bear to have you talking about him like that."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say.

"WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I EVEN CARED ABOUT WHAT YOU SAID TO ME? I DON'T BLOODY CARE ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT…I DON'T CARE ABOUT HOW VICKY WAS SWEET TO YOU. I JUST CARE ABOUT HARRY WINNING THE TOUR…"

He was stopped in midsentence; however, through finding Hermione's hands clamped tightly over his mouth. His hands quickly pulled her arms away, fuming.

"You're going to wake up the whole castle," she hissed. Wow. That was so like her. When a guy was screaming his lungs out at her, all she cared about how he was going "to wake up the whole castle." Ron rolled his eyes. So what did he care about the castle. He just wanted to make his point clear.

"I THOUGHT HARRY WAS YOUR FRIEND TOO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING GOING AROUND KISSING THE ENEMY FOR?"

Hermione froze. "I am not 'going around kissing the enemy.'" Her voice trembled, just as it had done during the ball. "I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this, Ron. It's just a ball. If you're really so upset about all this, I…I already asked you this once, but…wh…why didn't you just ask me? Then none of this would have happened."

"Really…that's just beside the point, that has nothing to do with anything, I mean, well really. I'm just…mad that you went with…Krum! That hasn't got anything…" Ron spluttered and saw Hermione gazing towards the ground. "What?"

"Still, none of this would have happened if you'd asked me."

"I..well…didn't have much reason for wanting to go with you, obviously. Thought you'd be more sensible, and wouldn't choose such an arse to go to the ball with."

He felt a flash of satisfaction as he finished saying this, but cringed as he saw the look on Hermione's face. He began to stutter out an apology.

"No, Hermione, I didn't…didn't…that's not really what I meant, this, I…." He couldn't quite find anything more to say.

She shook her head in response. "It's all right, Ron." How could she have ever been so stupid, as to think, to even dream that Ron might have thought about her in the same way as she did him? Ever since that troll, even just looking at that flaming red hair had been able to lift up her spirits, except during their fights. They did spend a lot of time together—how was she to know that that hadn't meant anything?

The tension between them was building, and neither said anything for a moment. Finally, Ron spoke up.

"Sorry."

Her gaze flickered up to his for a moment, surprised at how genuine it sounded, but she quickly looked back to the floor. "I really did want you to ask me, you know," she choked out.

"Ask you what?"

"The ball. When Neville asked me, Viktor actually hadn't asked me yet. I turned him down, not because I personally had anything against Neville, of course. Then Viktor asked, and I just gave up. It was only a few days till the ball anyway, and I just thought about how awkward it would've been between Neville and I if I ended up going alone. I just kept hoping that you would ask me." Hermione looked dumbfounded as she said the last few words.

Ron was stunned into silence. She'd been hoping that? Unbelievable. He'd personally always thought that Hermione preferred Harry over him. "The Chosen One", "the Boy Who Lived."—who wouldn't prefer Harry? Apparently he'd been mistaken. Her bushy hair shadowed her face, and all he could see from where he sat was her nose. The image of her during the Yule ball hit him once more, and he blushed slightly.

Maybe, if she likes me, I can..

He shifted an inch closer to her, turning himself to face her. "Hermione, can I…" be your date to Hogsmeade the next time we have a trip he wanted to conclude, but his lips were frozen and wouldn't move. What if she turned him down? Preferring him over Harry didn't mean much; maybe she just thought of Harry as being too brotherly figure to like him that way. If she said no, wow, things would be amazingly awkward between them. He wouldn't be able to look her in the face ever again without blushing like heck.

What's he going to say?

Hermione looked up at him, and noticed he was a bit pale. Maybe her outburst had been too much of a shock for him. She was just know-it-all Granger, the one who worried too much. To him, she was probably just a source of an easy pass in most of the subjects. "Hermione, can I see your potions essay?""Hermione, I need you to check this for me, will you?" To tell the truth, though, she'd actually liked it when Ron asked for homework help. At least that had made her feel wanted, instead of a simple tag-along. But maybe, maybe he would say something a bit sweet, like ask for forgiveness. Maybe he would get down on his knees and bow down to her, making her laugh. Probably not, but couldn't hurt to hope, could it?

"Mione, um.."

What am I going to say? "Never mind" won't work. It's Hermione, for Merlin's sake. What do I do? I can't possibly ask her to Hogsmeade now, just look at the look on her face. She looks repulsed.

"Yes, Ron?"

"Uhh, do you have a copy of the Herbology homework?" he blurted out.

Hermione looked back at him blankly, but mentally slapped herself on the head in slight disgust. Of course. What else was there for him to say? But really, couldn't he just...augh.

"Sure, just let me get it." There was a distinct edge to her voice as she said this.

He watched as she ran up the stairs to the girls dormitory, her cloak tailing after her. He'd really don't it this time. The reaction that he'd gotten from her was enough to tell him that. The look on her face. Resting his chin on his palm, with his elbow on his knee, he looked at the dark fireplace. The fire had died out ages ago. When would Hermione come back? It was getting cold, and he wanted to be back in bed.

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please review! this is my first fanfic, and it didn't turn out as good as I'd hoped, but plz tell me what you think of it. even if you hate it, plz tell me! thanks :)