“Hermione?”

It was after dark. After midnight, in fact. The same day, but the evening was now well past.

It had been quite a few hours since Harry and Ron had packed up their exploding snap cards, actually. I still had forty more pages of my Ancient Runes dictionary to read, and so I was awake, seated by the fire in the common room.

I was beginning to feel very drowsy, now. And so when I heard my name being called, I could not help thinking it was a figment of my imagination. Sleep could be so overpowering, sometimes. Then my name was called again, and I realized someone really was there.

I looked up to see who had addressed me, and found myself gazing right into a pair of eyes. Startled, I jumped.

“Ron! You nearly gave me a fright, what are you doing up so late?” I asked in a rushed voice, though relieved that it was only him. I motioned to the empty sofa in front of me, and he sat down, making himself comfortable.

For some seconds, he did not reply. When he finally spoke, his tones were gentle, even though his response very casual. Though the conversation was one any two people who know each other a little could have, I knew Ron’s voice was not usually this deep or mature or good-natured.

“I was just getting myself some water,” he told me, with a shrug. “Jug in the dormitory’s empty. Saw you when I came down here to get it refilled.”

“Oh.” I placed my dictionary aside and sat there, hands in lap.

“You know, you’re very pretty, Hermione,” Ron began slowly and, if I might say so, rather awkwardly.

I sat there, both shocked and oddly happy. It was not a more-than-friends gesture, this. There was nothing Ron with what Ron had just said, and I did not suspect him of anything wrong or silly or emotional on that account, either. But I knew Ron, and I knew he did not usually speak or act this way.

“I – thanks, Ron,” I managed to say. “You’re very nice yourself.”

He smiled, standing up. “Thanks for the compliment, ‘Mione. And I think I should get my water and then get going to bed again, now. I’m sleepy.”

He stifled a yawn, as if to justify his point, and moved towards the self-refilling jug of water placed on table in the centre of the common room. Automatically, I stood up, following him and watching him have his drink before making his way back to his dormitory.

At the door, he paused and turned, his hand on the handle. “Night, Hermione.”

“Night, Ron,” I said, wide awake and no longer sleepy.