"I don't..." Ron broke off his sentence to yawn as the class of fifth year Gryffindors poured out of the green house, "don't believe it. Who would have thought herbology could ever be used to defend against the dark arts?"

The end of their second day of classes had been their first Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, led by Professor Sprout. No one had known quite what to expect, nor how much to expect from Professor Sprout in the area of dark art defense, but to their amazement they discovered there were many ways to use plants both offensively and defensively. And their portly herbology professor was a plethora of knowledge on both.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were walking abreast as they all headed back toward the castle, their classmates a black-robed pack moving in the same direction on all sides of them.

"I think it's great," came Neville's voice as he caught up to them, clearly having heard Ron's comment. "Herbology as a defense against the dark arts! I might actually have some hope of living."

"I have to admit," Harry added as Ron gave another gape-jaw yawn, "I didn't really expect herbology to be of much use in defense against the dark arts."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Hermione mused aloud at Harry's left as she rearranged the bag strap over her shoulder. "Professor Sprout knew so muchabout using plants as weapons..."

"Bit scary," Neville confessed.

"Well, you know, before our time, they were around to actually have to fight Death Eaters and You Know Who with everything they had. Would make them pretty bloody good at it," Ron said lowly.

"Kind of hard to imagine that it was people our parents' age who fought You Know Who the first time, when it seems so much farther away than... oh," Hermione stopped talking and looked regretfully toward Harry.

Harry, for his part, watched where he placed his feet on their trek back to the castle and consciously refrained from looking up. "Not so far away," he said in a near whisper.

"No," Neville mumbled in agreement.

"What do you suppose Trelawney will have for her go at Defense practical?" Ron asked with a snicker.

"Complete and utter rubbish," Hermione retorted as they entered the castle and headed toward the Gryffindor tower.

"Maybe she'll surprise you, too," Neville offered in a small voice.

"If she managed to predict the weather tomorrow I'd have a stroke from shock. Honestly, we'd be better off with a double lesson from Moody or Snape."

"Ugh!" Ron protested, "you want more lessons with Snape? Are you completely touched in the head?"

"He'll know a lot more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than that old bat Trelawney. Vigilance," Hermione spoke the last to the fat lady portrait.

"No need to be brusque about it, young lady," she scolded as she swung open.

Harry picked up the conversation they'd been having as though the painting had not spoken. "And he's better at dark arts for a very good reason."

"Or bad reason, however you want to look at it," Ron quipped.

Hermione grunted and dropped her bag on to the couch end. Neville made for the boys' dorm room while Ron let his bag fall on the floor where he stood, walked around to the front of the couch, and dropped flat on his back with a groan. He'd been up late last night, though neither Harry nor Hermione knew exactly how late, but in History of Magic that morning he'd had a complete (if messy) essay to turn in to Binns. He'd also had an apology for Hermione. From her expression, she didn't seem to quite believe what she was hearing as Ron said he was sorry for upsetting her last year at the Yule Ball. In whispered confidence, Hermione told Harry she suspected it was the sleep deprivation.

Hermione glanced at Ron spread out on the couch then looked at her watch. "Harry... I think we have time for a run before dinner if you're up for it."

"Run? Why do that?" Ron asked from his prone position.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Harry answered. He could do with a bit of physical exertion if truth be told. He'd grown conditioned to it at Hermione's and had actually begun to feel a bit antsy with pent up energy without some kind of outlet since returning to Hogwarts.

"It does?" Ron looked between his two friends as though they were suggesting a community bath with the Slytherins.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I told you Harry and I took up exercising over the holiday to build up a bit. Wouldn't make sense to slack off just because we're back in classes, would it?"

"Right." Ron sat up and looked between Harry and Hermione with a contemplative expression on his face. He seemed to give both Harry and Hermione an assessing glance that might have made Harry both uncomfortable and ruffled, respectively, if he didn't know Ron so well. "Maybe I ought to come along too, you think?"

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, shared an expression of ambivalence, and shrugged practically in unison. Hermione answered, "Come along if you like. I'll meet you both back here in five minutes." She scooped up her bag, turned, and hurried up the stairs.

Ron seemed to drag himself off the couch, nearly as reluctant as though he were heading off to sit an exam. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, Ron," Harry said.

"No, no, I want to. I mean, it's really done you two a load of good, and besides, the three of us do everything together, right?"

"Right," Harry replied as though on autopilot and preceded Ron up the stairs, their bags slung over their shoulders.

In the dorm, they walked into the middle of a conversation between Dean and Seamus.

"... you'd turn on the Canons because of a girl," Dean said with disgust.

"A bloody hot girl." When Seamus saw Harry and Ron come in, he launched into them. "Ron! You've seen the new chaser for the Falmouth Falcons, haven't you?"

"You mean Ledora Paltry? Have I! She's a real looker, that one."

"See?" Seamus gestured to Ron emphatically. Harry side-stepped the lot of them and opened his trunk. He had to dig a bit to find his black track pants and old T-shirt of Dudley's with the sleeves cut off.

"Yeah, but would you root for the Falcons as opposed to the Canons just because of some ruddy girl?" Dean challenged.

"You're missing the point of it, Dean. She's not just 'some ruddy girl'. It's a bloody hot girl, and you know, those girl Quidditch players... well, Harry gets that, don't you, Harry?"

Harry had toed off his shoes and began to shrug out of his robes when he was drawn into the conversation. "What's that?"

"Cho Chang. Have a thing for her, don't you?"

Harry scowled and tossed his robes on the bed. He undid his tie and gave a lop-sided shrug.

"Oh, come on, you were a mess over her last year. Not that I blame you in the least for it; I wouldn't mind getting in on some of that. It's that whole girl Quidditch player thing, isn't it?"

"What about them?" Neville asked, perplexed.

Seamus grinned wolfishly. "Well, a girl like that, she's not going to be some dainty little thing like most. A girl who'll hit a bludger right for your head will also be the type to start a good snog."

Dean snorted. "Like you know anything about snogging."

"I've snogged more than you have, you twit." Seamus threw a pillow at Dean, who ducked it quickly. Harry shed his shirt with very little attention paid to the discussion, and projectiles, flying about the room around him.

"Couldn't have anything to do with the fact Cho's just plain hot, Quidditch player or not?" Dean asked.

Seamus sounded genuinely surprised. "Didn't know you fancied her."

"I never knew that you did."

"I don't have to fancy her to know she's hot."

Harry dropped his trousers and slipped on the track pants, listening to the ongoing conversation with only half an ear.

"Not like she's the only hot girl at Hogwarts I've noticed, either."

"Yeah, and who else have you noticed, then?"

Seamus snickered. "Hermione Granger, for one."

"Hermione?!" Dean choked.

"Have you bloody seen her this year? She's definitely outgrown that ugly duckling phase. You know, next to Quidditch players, they say the bookworms are real steamy snoggers, all that reading up they do on it. I'll bet Hermione-"

"Back off." Harry turned to level a glare at Seamus.

Seamus blinked, startled by the venom in Harry's eyes and words. "Relax, Harry, it's just a bit of fun."

"Have your fun, but leave Hermione out of it," Harry pulled on his shirt and continued to stare down Seamus.

"She's our friend, you git," Ron threw in reproachfully.

"But I just meant that..." Seamus started to argue, but Harry took a step forward and Seamus jumped back as though scalded. "Okay, I'm sorry, I won't talk about Hermione anymore. Bloody hell, Harry, you'd think she was your girlfriend or something."

"Don't be stupid," Ron spat. "Let's go, Harry, Hermione's waiting for us."

Hermione was indeed in the common room waiting for them, garbed in her usual running attire. She had on a white tank top and gray exercise pants with pink stripes running down the outside of both legs. Her hair was pulled back in a curly ponytail. Harry was used to seeing Hermione dressed that way, but Ron did a fair bit of goggling when they reached the common room and she turned to them.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when she got a look at Harry's face.

Harry shook his head and knelt to put on his trainers. "Nothing. Seamus was being a bastard."

Hermione cocked her head and glanced at Ron for an explanation. Ron was a gaping wasteland, so she turned her attention back to Harry. However, Harry would say nothing more on the subject. He stood from tying his shoes and put a hand on Hermione's elbow to direct her toward the portrait hole.

"Harry..." Hermione began again and looked up into his face. She stopped with a frown when she saw the look on his face and chose to let it go. Harry dropped her elbow but continued to walk closely at her side.

Once outside and standing in the open courtyard, Harry and Hermione began stretching. Ron hung back and watched, looking a bit out of place in his shorts and lounge shirt idly while Harry and Hermione rotated through a well-practiced series of leg, arm, and back stretches. They'd done it so many times over the summer they didn't need to make conversation to fill the silence; it had long ago ceased being uncomfortable. A few passing students snickered at the pair of them bending and extending, and it made Ron shuffle uneasily.

"You'd best stretch, Ron, or you're liable to pull something," Hermione suggested.

"Oh, um... you know, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." She offset to address both Ron and Harry. "Here's what I was thinking, we could start off toward the Black Lake, turn left, and make a round of the perimeter of Hogwarts from there."

Harry calculated the distance in his head. "Sounds good to me."

"Uh, wa... wait, all the way around Hogwarts?" Ron yelped.

Hermione tried not to smile. "Well, we'll see." She turned to Harry and Ron caught on they were about to go and scurried up to take up position on Hermione's other side.

The three of them set off at a steady jog toward the Black Lake, keeping pace and staying in a line shoulder-to-shoulder. They turned a few heads as they passed, not often did students take to running around the grounds when it wasn't to make it to class on time; it made the tips of Ron's ears turn red, but Harry and Hermione were oblivious. They had a rhythm they fell into when they ran, with steps matched and attention locked forward; their worlds narrowed to the experience of the run. It was almost a different state of mind, and there was no room for watching classmates.

Ron kept up well enough all the way to the shores of the Black Lake, but not long after they'd made a left and started their circuit around the school his loud breathing was breaking into even Harry and Hermione's singular focus on their task. Ron, just barely, started to fall back, and unspoken Harry and Hermione slowed to stay with him.

Finally, Ron staggered to a stop, gasping for breath, face beet red. "Wait... wait." He braced his hands on his knees and sucked in air. Harry and Hermione stopped and turned to Ron.

"You all right, Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head but couldn't speak, held up a hand to still them, then after a few heaving breaths said, "Just... can't go on."

Hermione stepped closer, "You don't look so good. You sure you're all right?"

Ron tried to straighten, winced, and clutched his side. He grimaced, "I don't think... I'm made for... this running... business. Don't tell me... you two... actually... enjoy this."

Hermione and Harry, their breathing only slightly accelerated and neither of them having yet broken a sweat, looked at one another. They both smiled at the same time. Harry was the one to answer, "Well, yeah, we do. Kind of a rush."

Ron gaped at Harry like he'd confessed to a passing interest in cross-dressing.

Hermione jumped in, "But we didn't like it right off. At first we were..." the words 'just like you' were nearly off the tip of her tongue, but she stopped and her brow crinkled as she studied their friend, wheezing, sweating, and cramping. She changed direction mid-stream, "we weren't nearly so enamored of it. It took a bit. No one's great the first time out. Takes some time to start having fun."

"Fun?!" Ron shook his head and wiped his sopping forehead with his forearm. 'Well, I think I've had enough fun for today. I'm heading back inside to do something a bit more fun... like homework; you two go on without me."

"You sure, Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded vigorously. "Very sure. I'll catch up with you two at dinner."

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, shrugged, and in synch turned and took off again. Ron's mouth hung open when they didn't leave at the leisurely pace the three of them had been keeping previously... Harry and Hermione set off at twice that speed.

"Those gits," Ron muttered and started back toward the castle.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

When next Ron saw Harry, it was when his best friend sat down across from him at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall just before the start of dinner. Ron, combating fatigue and drowsiness the whole way, had actually managed to do his Charms homework while Harry and Hermione were out circling the castle. For once, he considered homework a better use of his time.

Harry was back in his school robes, though he'd clearly showered after coming in from his run. Ron begrudged him how energized and refreshed Harry looked from the work-out, whereas Ron had discovered Hermione had been right about the importance of stretching.

"Harry!" Ginny came bounding up to where they sat, her long red hair free for once, and took the vacant spot next to Harry. "Saw you out on your run a while ago. Nice shirt."

Harry fidgeted. "Huh… it was a tatty old hand-me-down of my cousin's."

"Yes, but you wore it well," Ginny countered with a wink.

Harry looked toward Ron for back-up fending off Ginny, but Ron wasn't feeling particularly charitable. Not for the first time, Harry had shown him up well and good. And in front of Hermione, too. Harry could squirm a bit.

"Well, uh… thanks, I guess," Harry said haltingly. He glanced toward Ginny with an uneasy expression on his face, looked past her shoulder, and brightened. "Hermione!"

Hermione, back in her robes and also fresh from a shower of her own, came up and stood beside the table next to her friends. "Hey, Harry," Hermione looked down at Ginny sitting in the spot next to Harry. "Ginny." Hermione's greeting to Ginny was fractionally cooler than her hello to Harry.

To her credit, Ginny took hints well. "I'll leave you three to it, then," she said, got up from the table, and left to join her same-year friends.

Hermione sat down in the place Ginny had vacated. Harry was visibly relieved. "Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione shifted a little closer to Harry, almost absently as she frowned, "For what?"

"Ginny was funning with him," Ron replied, feeling in a better mood after watching Harry suffer Ginny's twisted sense of humor. His mood was also improved by Hermione's arrival.

Harry groaned. "I almost liked it better when she ran away every time I said hi to her. Less awkward for me, at least."

Ron laughed. "Ginny's got a streak in her. Mum figures it comes from growing up the only girl with so many brothers."

"Wonder what she's playing at," Harry mused and pursed his lips in intense thought.

Hermione, her head canted, watched Harry critically, then threw a glance down the table to the fourth years. Ginny was chatting and giggling with her friends. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Who knows," Ron said with a shrug, "my sister's barking half the time, if you ask me. I love her and all, but the girl's harder to figure than even Hermione."

Hermione looked quickly at Ron and glowered.

Ron blinked and sat back shortly. "Uh… sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"No, I'm sure you meant barking in a good way."

Ron looked like a cornered animal.

Harry intervened. "Just like Ron's a prat, but in a good way, right?"

Ron looked torn between affronted and being too concerned about Hermione's wrath to take his eyes off her.

Hermione, to Ron's immeasurable relief, smiled then. "Right."

They were spared any further filler conversation when dinner appeared on the table before them, platters and plates and bowls of delicious food. Ron tucked in as though he'd not eaten in days. Harry and Hermione followed his example, but in moderation.