Hermione was trapped, Harry and Ginny a couple steps above her, Ron with his arms crossed below her. She sat on the stair she was on, inspecting her clothes for spots of blood she missed.Ron was huffing and puffing about something. Never was the most direct kind of bloke. Unfortunately, growing into a man on Harry’s heels didn’t do much for his passive aggression. The small traits dented into the tin can of his adolescence had been hammered home by the blacksmith of adulthood.