She saw Ron, who stood there holding the sword and dripping onto the threadbare carpet. Harry backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Ron’s rucksack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas. Hermione slid out of her trunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide.
Ron gave a weak, hopefully smile and half raised his arms. Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach.
“Ouch – ow – gerroff! What the – ? Hermione – OW!”
“You – complete – arse – Ronald – Weasley!”
She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced. “You – crawl – back – here – after – weeks – and – weeks – oh, wheres’s my wand?”
She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry’s hands and he reacted instinctively.
“Protego!”
The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione: The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she leapt up again.
“Hermione!” said Harry,
“Calm – “
“I will not calm down!” she screamed. Never before had he seen her lose control like this; she looked quite demented. “Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!”
“Hermione, will you please –“
“Don’t tell me what to do, Harry Potter!” she screeched. “Don’t you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!”
She was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Harry could not blame Ron for retreating several steps.
“I came running after you! I begged you to come back!”
“I know,” said Ron, “Hermione, I’m sorry, I’m really –“
“Oh, you’re sorry!”
She laughed, a high-pitched, out-of-control sound; Ron looked at Harry for help, but Harry merely grimaced his helplessness.
“You come back after weeks – weeks – and you think it’s all going to be all right if you just say sorry?”
“Well, what else can I say?” Ron shouted, and Harry was glad that Ron was fighting back.
“Oh, I don’t know!” yelled Hermione with awful sarcasm. “Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds –“
“Hermione,” interjected Harry, who considered this a low blow, “he just saved my –“
“I don’t care!” she screamed. “I don’t care what he’s done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew – “
“I knew you weren’t dead!” bellowed Ron, drowning her voice for the first time, and approaching as close as he could with the Shield Charm between them. “Harry’s all over the Prophet, all over the radio, they’re looking for you everywhere, all these rumors and mental stories, I knew I’d hear straight off if you were dead, you don’t know what it’s been like –“
“What it’s been like for you?”
Her voice was now so shrill only bats would be able to hear it soon, but she had reached a level of indignation that rendered her temporarily speechless, and Ron seized his opportunity.
“I wanted to come back the minute I’d Disapparated, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione and I couldn’t go anywhere!”
….
Ron glanced at Hermione, clearly hopeful she might soften at this small instance of humor, but her expression remained stony above her tightly knotted limbs.

US Version, Chapter 19, The Silver Doe, Page 379-382

But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas moring and I heard…I heard you.”
“You heard me on the radio?” she asked incredulously.
“No I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice,” he held up the Deluminator again, “came out of this.”
“And what exactly did I say?” asked Hermione, her tone somewhere between skepticism and curiousity.
“My name. ‘Ron.’ And you said…something about a wand…” Hermione turned a fiery shade of scarlet.

US Version, Chapter 19, The Silver Doe, Page 382-383