"Right, yeah, you suck," Ron said, letting out a small snort of laughter. He would have thrown his pillow again, but he'd gotten rather comfortable. "No, she's not angry. Worried, more like."
There was always something or someone to worry about lately, wasn't there? It seemed like they'd reverted a few years in the span of only a few weeks. But then, it wasn't exactly fair to compare it to the war times, either. This was different, both because they were adults with adult sorts of right--and responsibilities--and at least this time no one was trying to kill Harry.