Hermione shrugged. "Okay, if you say so. I was just checking."

Ron pursed his lips, a haughty look on his face. "Fired," he muttered with a snort and took another, somewhat cautious sip of his tea.

They fell silent, and Hermione turned to gaze out the window. It looked as if it was going to be an absolutely beautiful day, in contrast to the past few weeks' howling winds and pouring rain. This winter had been less about crisp, sunny mornings and light snowfalls and more about raging storms, of the kind that usually dominated the autumn months. But today it seemed as if winter had suddenly realised how little of an effort it'd made, and wished to compensate them all for the lack of characteristic, seasonal weather.

Hermione turned to Ron, about to suggest they'd take a walk in the wonderful weather later on, but found him looking at her with a somewhat concerned look on his face.

"What?" she asked, truly puzzled by his strange expression.

He didn't answer immediately, but when he did, it was in an almost cautious tone.

"Hermione, how are you?"

She didn't catch on at once. How was she? What did he mean? Did she seem out of sorts in any way? But then realisation dawned on her, and she swallowed hard, fighting the panic that was rising inside of her. She looked away, unable to hold Ron's gaze.

"I'm fine," she said, sounding anything but convincing. "A bit tired, that's all."

"You sure?"

"M-hm."

Her attempts to make it sound as if everything was back to normal were almost ludicrous. Honestly, who was she trying to fool?

"You're not in any pain?" Ron asked, and his question made her eyes sting. Was she in pain? It was hard to tell. Maybe she was, but it'd become so much of a regularity that she'd simply stopped noticing.

"No," she whispered. "No pain."

But that wasn't true. Because where the physical wounds had stopped bothering her, there'd landed something bigger and darker and infinitely more painful. It was in her heart and in her mind, and something told her that it was incurable.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, and maybe it was this sudden sincerity that stopped Ron from further pursuing the matter, even though he obviously was less than happy to let it rest. With a small sigh, he rose from his seat and walked over to the counter. It was only then, when he had his back to her, that she dared look at him. He stood, head bowed, with his hands on the counter, and she could almost see how he was trying to come up with another, less disheartening topic of conversation.

"So," he said finally, and turned to face her, thereby forcing her to look away again.

"Yes?" she queried, studying her teacup with sudden, great interest. Anything to avoid having to meet his worried and questioning and painfully blue eyes.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Have you read anything good lately?"

The inquiry was so absurd and ill timed that she forgot all about how hard it was to meet his gaze. She turned to him, eyebrows raised and ready to tell him straight out what a strange question it was, but refrained from doing so as she saw the slightly worried and positively adorable look in his eyes. She could almost hear what his thoughts had been while he'd stood silent by the counter: Alright, she doesn't want to talk about it. So we should talk about something else, something less upsetting… I've got it - books! We'll talk about books. That ought to cheer her up.

And it was once again proven to Hermione how well Ron knew her, because it did cheer her up. The mere thought of the stacks of intriguing books she'd read lately was enough to make her smile.

"Why yes, Ron, I have actually," she said, and felt that familiar tug at her heart-strings as he gave her a brilliant smile, clearly relieved.

"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's hear then."

She smiled to herself, amused by his uncharacteristic enthusiasm over hearing her talk about recent books she'd read. He walked over to the chair and sat down once again, resting his elbows on the table and silently urging her to begin.

"Right," Hermione said, searching her mind. Which was the last book she'd read?

"Well, I just finished "Lice Versus Luxury", an account of the social differences within the wizarding community."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yes, it was, actually. It's quite shocking to read about how some people live their lives in wealth and affluence, while there are families where the parents can't even afford to buy their children functional school supplies."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, looking suddenly grim, and Hermione could've kicked herself. How could she have been so stupid, so insensitive? She hardly needed to sit here and inform him about the economical rifts in the wizarding world; he'd seen more than enough of how unfair life could be when it came to things like that.

"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "That was awfully… I didn't think of…"

But Ron seemed to already have forgotten. "Don't worry about it," he said, and gave her a bright smile. "Any more books?"

Hermione, still feeling a bit stupid, racked her brain for more books to tell him about. There'd been that novel that she'd…

Then she suddenly remembered something. Something she'd seen in Ron's bedroom last night and made a mental note to ask him about. She looked up at him quizzically. "Ron…" she began.

"Yes?" he queried.

"Since when do you read Muggle novels?"

At first he just stared back at her, confusion all over his features. Then, as he evidently realized which novel she was referring to, a flush started creeping up his cheeks. "Muggle novels?" he asked, his voice sounding somewhat constrained.

"Yes, Muggle novels."

"Hermione, I don't…"

"It's no use acting as if you don't know what I'm talking about," she interrupted. "Last night, in your room, I saw a copy of "Watership Down" on your bedside table."

Ron opened his mouth as if to object, but then closed it again. He looked away, clearly bothered by this revelation. "I didn't mean for anyone to see that," he mumbled.

"Where did you get it from?"

Ron sighed and turned his gaze to the floor, the ceiling and the kitchen counter, all in quick succession. "I was over at Harry's a few weeks ago, and I needed something to read, so I asked him if he had anything good. He told me to have a look in the bookcase, which I did, and I, well… I settled for that one."

He looked at her then, an expression of near defiance on his flushed face, and it was this mock-me-if-you-dare look that stopped Hermione from actually giving him a hard time about his choice. But she couldn't help asking him why he'd ended up choosing that one, and when she did, Ron made a face, clearly unwilling to share the answer with her.

"You'll laugh," he said.

"I won't!" How could she ever laugh at him when he was looking so adorably bashful?

"You will. And you'd be right to. It's ruddy stupid, really."

"Of course it isn't stupid. No reason for reading a book is stupid."

"This one is."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Ron! Just tell me and get it over with! You know I won't give up."

He grinned at this. "Sure do. You're the epitome of perseverance."

She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" he asked.

"The epitome of perseverance?" she said, incredulous.

"Yeah. It means that you're the embodiment of persistence, you know, the…"

"I know what it means," she interrupted. "I just, well… I didn't think that you…" She didn't finish the sentence, seeing as every possible ending to it would sound like an enormous insult. "Never mind," she said. "Just tell me."

"Fine," Ron muttered. "You'll never give up anyway." He took a deep breath and once again averted his eyes from hers. "The reason I chose the book is… Well, the fact that I chose that particular book…" He drew in another deep breath. "How shall I put it… The main reason to why I…"

He was getting nowhere, so Hermione decided to help him out. "Maybe the plot appealed to you?" she asked, although she doubted this was it.

Ron looked at her, his face lighting up. "Yeah! That was it. The plot appealed to me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said slowly, unable to keep the scepticism out of her voice. "So you're telling me that you chose a book about rabbits over, say, a book about Muggle spies, because the plot appealed to you?"