‘Hang on a moment!’ said Ron sharlply. ‘We’ve forgotten someone!’
‘Who?’ asked Hermione.
‘The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?’
‘You mean we ought to get them fighting?’ asked Harry.
‘No,’ said Ron seriously, ‘I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want any more Dobbys, do we? We can’t order them to die for us-’
There was a clatter as the Basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.
‘Is this the moment?’ Harry asked weakly, and when nothing happend except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. ‘OI! There’s a war going on here!’
Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms still around each other.
‘I know mate,’ said Ron, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger, ‘so it’s now or never, isn’t it?’