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Ron had to be dreaming, because Harry's eyes weren't purple. They're green, he thought, and tried to will them to their proper color, but failed.
It was a very nice dream, otherwise. They were going to play a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, and Hermione was smiling at him from the stands. He smiled back. And then they were in the air, whooshing and zipping and generally being Quidditch players. Ron blocked at least twenty goals, but before he knew it, Harry had caught the Snitch and the game was over.
They all touched down and he slapped Harry on the back, and someone was walking towards them. It was--oh bloody hell, it was Dumbledore! Dumbledore, smiling at them! And here Ron was, thinking he was dead! And then suddenly Hermione was there, stuffing something in his mouth--something sticky and airy. He vaguely remembered that it was some Muggle invention she had called "cotton candy" a few days ago, but he couldn't figure out for the life of him why she was feeding it to him. And then her voice came, irritated and groggy: "Ronald. Ronald!"
His eyes flew open and he looked into a mass of brown fuzzy stuff, and realized he had his arms around someone's waist.
"Ronald," she said again, "you're squeezing me too hard."
He sat up, releasing her and spitting her hair out of his mouth. "Er," he said.
She flipped herself around and looked him in the eye.
"I think I got spit all over your hair," he said stupidly.
She smiled sleepily at him, and kissed him. "Honestly," she said, "it's like you're trying to get on my bad side again."
She flipped over again, and he smiled at her back, kissed her neck and said, sheepishly, "I don't think you don't have a bad side when it comes to me."
She turned her head to him. "If you want to think that, Ronald, go right ahead, but if you read about Quidditch before you go to bed again, I'm pretty sure you'll find it." She snuggled back into his arms, and he was sure to only put one arm around her waist and to brush her hair out of his face before dozing off again.