This was bordering on ridiculous. Glancing at the clock for the seventeenth time since Ron had been expected home (yes, she had been counting) Hermione looked down at her journal again, still wondering why no message had appeared with his reasoning for being so late.
Of course she had checked her map when he had been even half an hour late, and considering it said that he was still at work, she assumed he was running a little behind and he would be home soon. But that hadn't been the case. Alternating between the clock and the map after that, she couldn't think of a decent enough reason that Ron might have, that would allow him to be so late home without giving her some kind of prior warning.
As he apparated into the living room, she didn't give him a chance to try out an excuse before informing him, "You're late." It wasn't so much the words she was using, considering that was obvious. It was the tone, which was a fairly good indication as to her mood. And it wasn't a good one.