"Ron." He shifted from foot to foot, and ducked his head, looking like awkwardness personified. "What's up?" Hermione sat up cross-legged on her bed and patted the edge of it invitingly. Ron's shoulders slumped with relief and he hurried into her room, shutting the door behind him and sitting where she'd patted. She waited for him to tell her what was wrong; she knew something must be wrong – Ron never looked this hangdog unless he'd done something stupid and needed her help.