Different Perspectives

It was the summer before fourth-year when Hermione had had very odd thoughts. She had found herself thinking about Ron constantly, even more than Harry. And when she thought about Harry, she had been usually worrying about him living with those awful Dursleys. But when she had thought about Ron...it was about little, stupid stuff that really wasn't stupid because it was about Ron. For example, she had first realized that when Ron told a joke, his eyes got a rather cute little spark in them, or she'd start to wonder how tall he had gotten.

Then his owl had come, and she'd had been ecstatic, mainly because she was going to see him again. And it was that moment when she knew that maybe, just maybe, Ron meant more to her than just a friend.

She hadn't known for sure, though, until she had first seen him after that two month absence.

**

August 22^nd, 4:00 p.m.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley waved her over to her table at the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione grinned and made her way towards her best friend's mother, dragging her trunk behind her. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley, how are you?"

"Just fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Where are your parents?"

"Oh, we said our good-byes outside. They...well, I think they're still a little uncomfortable going into magical places." Hermione didn't mention that the last time her parents had accompanied her to a magical place, they had witnessed Mr. Weasley get into a fist fight with Mr. Malfoy over them. Of course, Hermione hadn't been too phased by the brawl--she had after all watched Mr. Weasley's youngest son attack Mr. Malfoy's own son over the subject of Muggle-borns. Her parents, however, still were very wary about the magical world, and preferred to avoid it if possible.

"Right," Mrs. Weasley stood up to grasp one of the handles of her trunk. "Ready?"

"Yes," Hermione followed Mrs. Weasley to the fireplace and looked curiously at the Floo Powder that was being held out to her. She had read about the Floo Network, of course, but she had never actually used it before. She expressed this to Mrs. Weasley, who quickly explained what to do, and gestured for her to step into the hearth. Hermione nodded a little nervously, and obeyed, holding a handful of the powder in one hand and steadying her trunk with the other.

"The Burrow!" she said as clearly as she could after throwing down her handful of powder.

Green flames flew up and engulfed her and her trunk, and soon she was spinning madly. Her eyes instinctively flew shut, and Hermione had to grit her teeth to keep from either screaming or throwing up. Harry was right--Floo Powder was definitely not the best way to travel.

Abruptly, she felt herself slow down, and the next thing she knew, she was sliding out into a small but cozy kitchen. She had so much momentum that she slid almost all the way halfway across the room, colliding with a thump into the table leg. Somehow, her trunk slid out behind her, and whacked her in the back. She grunted as the extra force bumped her into the table for a second time.

She glanced up at the sound of laughter, and she glared at the boy sitting at the table.

"Oh, shut it, Ron," she snapped, shoving her trunk backwards so she wasn't pinned between it and the table leg.

"You and Harry are just bloody awful at using Floo Powder, aren't you?" Ron teased as he got to his feet. He had grown quite a bit in these past few months, Hermione thought vaguely.

"Well, I'd like to see you manage the London Underground," she retorted. She looked down at her clothing, and groaned when she saw they were covered with ash. Hastily, she brushed herself off, but the ash seemed to want to cling to her jumper.

Ron was still laughing as he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. She almost yanked her hand away as a sudden warmth coursed up and down her arm. Hermione felt her cheeks start to burn , and she quickly ducked her head away.

"Oh, gross!" Ron bemoaned. She glanced up, and guiltily saw that when she had turned her head away from him, she had sent quite a bit of ash and soot flying through the air, which had caught Ron in the face.

"Oh, sorry!" she apologized. He was trying to wipe his face clean, but she saw that he was mainly smudging the soot in instead of taking it off. She brought her hand instinctively up to help him, but something told her not to. Hermione quickly jerked her hand back down, and she shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Goodness, dear, you're a mess," Mrs. Weasley tutted as she managed to arrive at the Burrow without falling to the floor or getting too much soot on her. But then again, no one had as much hair as Hermione Granger, so of course Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have ashes clinging to every single strand. "You should hurry and change." Hermione nodded and Mrs. Weasley then turned to Ron. "Ron, you've got dirt on your nose," Mrs. Weasley fussed as she reached up to wipe Ron's face clean.

"Mum!" Ron moaned, ducking his head away embarrassedly. His ears were turning bright red, and Hermione couldn't help smiling at this adorable habit of Ron's...oh, God, had she just called Ron adorable? Why did she keep having these thoughts about Ron? You know why, the voice at the back of her head reminded her again. She had been hearing this voice in her head all summer every time she had wondered why she had thought about Ron so much, but the voice was stronger than ever now that he was standing right in front of her. Her jaw dropped slightly as she became absorbed in her thoughts, not noticing that she was staring at Ron and Mrs. Weasley until Ron's voice brought her out of her daze. "Hermione?"

She blinked a few times, her eyes resting on Ron's blue eyes. Merlin, they were so very blue. She had never noticed that before...sort of like Lockhart's...and his smile was ten times better than Lockhart's...what had she ever seen in that lying prat of a professor anyway?

"Hermione?" Ron said again. "Are you okay?"

"F--f--fine!" Hermione finally managed to get out, her cheeks now bright red. "I--I--I have to--change..."

"What was that about?" Ron demanded to his mother as Hermione flew out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Ginny's room. Hermione didn't hear Mrs. Weasley's reply to Ron's question since she was running so fast. Luckily, Ginny probably was sneaking a ride on Fred or George's broom, so the room was empty. Hermione slammed the door behind her and she leaned her back against it, trying to catch her breath and slow the beating of her heart. She had to get better control of herself. She couldn't let this silly thing get the better of her. This was probably just like her infatuation with Lockhart, she'd get over it eventually. And if she didn't get a hold of herself, she could lose her best friend. And after the hell she had gone through last year, she was determined to stay in Ron's good graces. She couldn't lose him. She just had to deal with the fact that at the moment she fancied Ron Weasley.

**

But it had been anything but a passing fancy. It actually had taken her about an hour to collect herself enough to return downstairs and face Ron again. She had convinced herself to never, ever let Ron find out that she fancied him. He would have teased her for ages, or worse, gotten angry at her again, and she couldn't go through third-year again. She had thought it would go away, and she'd fancy someone else, and Ron would become just plain Ron again.

But obviously, that hadn't happened. She had managed to keep her mind off the issue with Harry's problem with the Triwizard Tournament. But there had been moments, fleeting moments, when she and Ron were alone, that had been horrible because he was fighting with Harry, but wonderful, because he was with her. But not really; he had been so miserable for those weeks, Harry too, and therefore Hermione had been miserable as well. It had been rapidly turning into another third-year disaster, not to mention worrying about Harry being killed by the dragon.

But then, as always, Ron had come through in the end.

**

November 24^th, 12:56 p.m.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now...You have to get ready for the your first task." Professor McGonagall looked almost as anxious as Hermione felt.

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine." I hope, she added silently in her head. He and Professor McGonagall left the Great Hall, many pairs of eyes following the two. Hermione watched them go for a long moment before looking back down at her barely eaten plate with a sigh, resisting the urge to bury her face into her hands. She had to admit she was more than a little nervous about the next couple of hours. Harry had mastered the charm quite successfully, and as long as he concentrated enough, he would be just fine. Once he got on that broom, there was no stopping Harry Potter. Of course, every time Harry flew, he nearly gave Hermione a heart attack, but he would be much safer there then on the ground with a huge dragon breathing fire at him. It didn't help that she was practically going on no sleep after staying up very late helping Harry. God, it would have been so much easier of Ron had been there to help. She had to admit that the tension between her two best friends wasn't making this stressful situation any easier on her. Honestly, those two could be so selfish, only thinking about their own pride. They weren't realizing how much they were hurting each other with their coldness, and they were also hurting her as well.

Since Harry had left the Hall, most of the nosy students had turned their attention to her. Ever since that blasted article by Rita Skeeter had been published, she had been taking quite a bit of flack about being Harry's girlfriend and being unmercifully ridiculed about being called "stunningly pretty". She had been able to hold herself together and keep her head whenever confronted, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to last if anyone said anything to her now. Her nerves were about to reach a breaking point, and since she didn't want to say anything she would later regret, she abruptly pushed her plate away and practically ran out of the Great Hall.

"Worried about Potter?" Hermione stopped short and whirled around, expecting to have to deal with Draco Malfoy and restrain herself from slapping him on the face again. But it was Ron, once again acting like a git as he did whenever Harry's name was mentioned now. "I bet he'll be fine," Ron continued, shrugging indifferently as if he didn't care although Hermione knew that it wasn't true. "He's Harry bloody Potter, after all."

"Ron, now is really not the time, all right?" Hermione said as she backed away, eyes stinging as tears threatened to unleash.

"You're just worried about him, because you're dating him, right?" Ron called after her. Hermione turned back and stared at him in shock. Ron really believed that rubbish too? "That's why you've been spending more time with Harry than me, right?"

"Harry needs me," Hermione insisted. "You obviously don't! Always going around with Dean or Seamus or your brothers! You appear to be getting along just fine. And besides, I'm still angry at you for being such a git about this whole thing!" Hermione decided that now was as good of a time as any to try again. "Why don't you try to talk to him, Ron? Please?"

"He's the problem!" Ron argued. "I tried..."

"What?" Hermione burst in as Ron trailed off. "You tried to talk to him?"

"Yeah," Ron said angrily. "And threw one of those bloody badges at me!"

"When was this?" Hermione asked, wondering why Harry or Ron hadn't mentioned this to her sooner.

"He was down in the common room practicing for his interviews at like 1:00 in the morning last Saturday night," Ron snarled. "I had come down to see what he was doing and try to talk to him, and he ruddy yelled at me!"

"Ron, you idiot!" Hermione yelled, nerves finally shattering at her irritation with her best friend. "You don't know what you did, did you? Harry wasn't practicing for an interview; he was meeting..." Hermione luckily had the good sense to lower her voice before continuing. "He was meeting Sirius in the fireplace, and Sirius was about to tell him how to get past the dragon, but Harry heard you and told Sirius to leave because he was afraid Sirius was going to get caught, so because of you we had to figure everything out ourselves!"

"What dragon?" Ron asked quietly, face turning from bright red from his anger to pale.

Hermione sighed, feeling her eyes prickling again, "A dragon, Ron. We found out that the first task is to get past a dragon. Harry's going to have to go up against a dragon."

"Are they mad?" Ron yelled again. "He could be killed!"

"Yeah, Ron," Hermione said in a low voice, "That's probably exactly why whoever put his name in the Goblet of Fire did so."

Ron looked shocked as he tried to absorb the piece of information he had just heard. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to get control of herself. She was really in danger of just letting go and breaking down, but she didn't want Ron to see her like that. "What is he going to do?" Ron inquired finally.

"We have a plan," Hermione told him, mentally damning the tears that started to leak out of the corners of her eyes, "We've been working all night on the Summoning Charm, and as long as Harry keeps his hair on straight, he'll be fine. But I mean, I'm still worried. I mean, it's still a dragon he's up against, right? I mean, he could be burnt to a crisp before his broom gets to him or Dumbledore's able to stop it. I mean, Dumbledoe's great and all, but he can't bring people back from dead or anything, right?" Hermione was very aware that she was babbling, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. It was one of those annoying habits she had--whenever she was upset, she just seemed to just ramble on and on. "If Harry dies, he's dead. Nothing more to it, is there?"

Hermione would have probably said a lot more, but Ron at that moment took hold of her forearms and shook her slightly. She stopped speaking, and lowered her head in a defeated manner, closing her eyes. She couldn't believe she was letting herself get hysterical like this. At least Ron had stopped her before she lost control completely. A tear unfortunately trickled out of the corner of her eye, and she hastily blinked several times to stop anymore from escaping.

"Hey," Ron told her in a low voice. "He'll be all right. You know he will."

She glanced up at him, and quickly had to look back down at her feet. Ron was leaning towards her, and he still had his hands on her arms as if he was afraid she'd break if he let go. They were standing rather close together, so close that she could smell the wind, pepper, and the casserole he had had for lunch on his robes, and although it wasn't the best combination of odors, for some reason it really appealed to her at the moment. God, she really did have it bad for him.

She pulled away, suddenly frightened by how safe she felt in Ron's presence. Despite the fact that her common sense was telling her that Harry could die today, she was reassured by Ron's word. Her heart was pounding double-time and she unnecessarily pulled down on her sweater, feeling rather awkward around Ron. She hated that feeling--she had managed to control herself around him ever since she had made an utter fool of herself when she had first seen him after the summer.

Luckily she was distracted by a sudden flood of noise as students began to swarm out of the castle and head down to where the tents had been set up.

"We better go," Ron said, glancing over at them. "You all right?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yeah, I've got to grab my cloak," Hermione said. "I'll meet you down there."

"All right," Ron said, "See you." He started to go, but he abruptly stopped and looked at her seriously. "He'll be all right, y'know. This is Harry we're talking about."

From somewhere deep inside of her, she knew he was right. She nodded her assent, and after flashing her a quick, terse smile, Ron ran over to catch up with Fred and George. Hermione just stood there for a few moments, heart still beating quite quickly. She had thought it had gone away, but it hadn't. He had to go and be so wonderful again, and make her feel all safe as usual...

Not now! Harry needs you!

Shaking aside all thoughts of the wonder that was Ron Weasley, Hermione ran out of the Front Doors, not caring that she had forgotten her cloak.

**

As insensitive as Ron usually was, he certainly knew how to take care of a girl. But she had tried to not let that sense of security affect her thinking, so she had continued to vow to forget all about Ron Weasley in a romantic way.

But the Yule Ball certainly muddled that plan up. When McGonagall had announced there was to be a Yule Ball, she had wanted Ron to ask her so badly. Even if he thought they were just going as friends, she didn't care. She knew she could have had the most fun with Ron, and that's all that mattered. But she didn't want to be asked when he was out of options and he suddenly figured out from Neville Longbottom that she was a girl. Besides, he had wanted a pretty girl to take, and she knew that she wasn't in that category, or certainly not in Fleur Delacour's league. Overhearing Ron tell Harry that he wanted to go with the prettiest girl who would have him had hurt her deeply, so when Viktor had approached her the next morning in the library, she had instantly agreed. She honestly hadn't thought it would be that big of a problem. She and Ron weren't an item or anything--she had thought he wouldn't care if she went with Viktor.

Oh, how wrong she had been.

**

December 26^th, 12:14 a.m.

Hermione Granger considered just heading upstairs to the sanctuary of her dormitory, but she ended up lingering in the common room for a few minutes. Common sense told her she shouldn't, that she was asking for it if she waited around for Ron to come back. She had a feeling that if she saw Ron again so soon, they would just pick up their argument where they left off. She wasn't in the mood for arguing--she was tired from all that dancing, her feet hurt from wearing high heels for the first time in her life, and stray strands of hair were falling in her face and she was getting sick of pushing them out of the way. She should just go to bed, but she was rather too wound up to be able to go to sleep, she was still so angry at Ron. He had practically ruined her whole evening, her first date. Granted, she had hoped that her first date would have been with Ron as her escort, but Viktor had more than acceptable. As a matter of fact, he had been wonderful; he really was a gentleman. He hadn't tried any funny business, and had just left her with a quick kiss on the hand.

Or maybe he didn't want to kiss you, that nasty voice in the back of her head spoke up, the voice that often plagued her with self-doubt during a grueling examination. No, Hermione told herself, just because Ron thinks that Viktor is using you doesn't mean he's right. Since when has Ron been right about these sort of things? After all, he still thinks that Professor Snape is a Death Eater or something even though that Dumbledore himself trusts him. Viktor is just being polite, she reassured herself firmly.

The portrait door swung open, and Hermione tensed up. She knew that Harry and Ron were on their way back to the Tower. But Ron wouldn't start another argument this late, and in front of Harry.

But only Ron entered the common room. He froze the instant he saw Hermione standing there, and his blue eyes flashing accusingly towards her. Hermione just gave him another glare before opening the door to the girls' staircase. Now that she saw the fury in his face, she knew that she really didn't want to have this conversation now.

"Did you have fun tonight with Vicky?" Ron yelled after her scathingly.

Hermione closed her eyes with annoyance. It looked like they were going to have this conversation now. "Ron, why do you have such a problem with this?" she asked simply, keeping her back to him while she shut the door.

"Because," Ron spluttered, "I already told you! He's competing against Harry!"

"Yes, and if Harry had a problem with it, I wouldn't even consider seeing Viktor again," Hermione turned around and stared at Ron directly. "But as you and I heard him say quite clearly, he doesn't care, so why should you?"

"Harry had a problem with it!" Ron retorted. "He just didn't want to say anything about it!"

"Did he tell you that?"

"No!"

"Well, how do you know that?"

"Because I just do!"

"Right, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically. "You expect me to end my friendship with Viktor because you think that Harry could possibly not like it, and that Viktor might be using me to get to Harry!" Her eyes filled with tears for a brief moment but she blinked them away quickly before he could notice. She didn't want him to know that he had really hurt her with that accusation. It meant that Ron really thought no boy could ever look at her in a way other then the smartest girl in the class. And the fact that Ron Weasley thought that made it ten times worse. "Did it ever occur to you that he could have asked me because he liked me?"

"No!"

"Oh, so you're saying that you don't think Viktor or any boy could like me for me, and that anyone who is interested in me has some ulterior motive?"

"No!"

"I said it once, and I'll say it again, Ron, some people have noticed that I am a girl!" Hermione snapped. "It only took Viktor three seconds while it took you three years!"

"I know you're a girl," Ron yelled back.

"So you understand then!" Hermione shouted. "I'm a girl. He's a boy. What's the problem?" She tilted to her head to the side sarcastically. "Or are you just angry that I didn't get his autograph for you?"

"The problem is that no matter why the git asked you to the ball, I still don't like it, and no matter what you say I'll never like it!" Ron shot back, his face beet red.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger.

Her eyes flickered away from Ron's face for a brief second and she realized that Harry was standing near the portrait hole, gaping at the two of them. Harry had seen the two of the fight before, but never like this. Ron and I have never fought like this, Hermione corrected. But they couldn't continue this argument now with Harry there; it needed to be private.

All of this raced through Hermione's mind in a second as Ron replied.

"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Hermione turned on her heel and stormed to the girls' staircase but not to bed. She slammed the door behind her, and waited to hear Ron's response to her last statement, a direct clue to him about how she felt and how she hoped he felt too. Ron had turned to look at Harry.

"Well," he sputtered, looking thunderstruck, "well--that's just proves--completely missed the point."

"That you did," Hermione whispered before continuing up the stairs to her dormitory.

**

She had been so furious and angry that Ron hadn't picked up the clues she had been dropping that Hermione had turned her attention to Viktor instead. Viktor was a very nice boy, and he certainly gave her the attention she had so desperately wanted from Ron. But the problem was that it wasn't from Ron. She needed it to be from him, not from some other boy. And it had been very flattering that someone as famous and mature as Viktor Krum wanted her, the bushy-haired know-it-all, to be his girlfriend. But flattery couldn't drive a relationship, or at least a long-lasting one.

She had never expected it to end up this way. When she first realized that her feelings towards Ron weren't going away anytime soon, she had thought it would be only a manner of time before things fell into place. And the Yule Ball had been the perfect opportunity. But Ron, the stupid git, hadn't acted on it.

So, her first date ended up being with Viktor instead, which had led to her first kiss, which also hadn't been from Ron. And they should have been from him, she knew it, and she had a suspicion that Ron knew it too--he was a lot more perceptive then he let on. Hermione had then decided to try to make things work with Viktor and move on with her life. And she had really tried. She met Viktor at least once a week and pretended...or listened to him talk about home and Quidditch. She had even fooled herself into believing that she still occasionally blushed around Ron out of habit, or she hadn't told him about Viktor's first invitation since it would remind him of the row they had had.

But once again, it was Ron coming through when she needed him most that proved to her how wrong she was.

**

June 25^th, 12:32 a.m.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley said gently, "Why don't you go back to the tower and get some rest there?" She gestured towards the unconscious Harry. "He's out until the morning; you can't do anything for him until then."

Ron, although understanding the validity of his mother's statement, still hesitated and watched his best friend sleep for a few minutes longer. Hermione glanced over at him over her shoulder worriedly. When Harry had vanished, Ron had turned so pale that she had thought he was going to faint right then and there. He had most of his color back in his cheeks, but he was still much more ashen faced than normal. And there was a serious gleam to his blue eyes that had rarely been there before. And that worried Hermione quite a bit. She had been concerned that Ron had gone into shock, and the best thing for him was to get some sleep. She should make sure that he got back to the tower.

She couldn't do that right now though. Hermione looked away from Ron and back down at her clenched fist. She could feel Rita Skeeter pinching her sharply with her pincers, but she didn't release her grip. Luckily, Hermione knew what to do with the nosy reporter. She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a small jar that she always kept with her that she used to hold the blue flames she was so adept at conjuring. Keeping her back to the Weasleys and Harry, she set the jar on the window ledge so she could unscrew the lid with one hand. She then carefully positioned her hand over the lip and had the lid in her other hand which was poised over the jar. Abruptly, she opened her fingers slightly and the beetle dropped out. Quickly, she screwed the lid back on while she pulled out her wand and placed a swift Unbreakable charm on the jar so the reporter couldn't transform. Hermione stared at the jar in satisfaction before a tad reluctantly using her wand to poke small holes in the lid large enough to allow air through so Skeeter wouldn't suffocate but small enough to make sure that she couldn't climb through.

Pocketing the jar, Hermione turned back around and walked back to the chair Ron was sitting in. "Ron?" she said quietly.

Ron looked up at her for a moment before nodding and standing up. He focused on his mother. "Are you going to stay with him?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes still brimming with tears. "I'll let you know if there's any change."

"All right," Ron said slowly. "We'll be back in the morning."

Mrs. Weasley gave her son a quick kiss and a long hug. "He's going to be fine, dear."

"I know," Ron said quietly.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," Hermione was now also watching Harry sleep, her chest suddenly tight again. "For watching him for us."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her. "It's my pleasure."

"Come on," Ron took hold of Hermione's wrist to tug her towards the door. They both didn't take their eyes off of Harry until they had shut the door of the hospital wing behind them. Hermione couldn't help letting out a long shuddery breath. She had been holding herself together since she knew that Harry wouldn't like to see her crying and carrying on, but it had been very difficult. She had really thought for a few moments that she had lost him forever.

Ron noticed of course and his grip moved from her wrist to her fingers and he squeezed her hand gently. "He's going to be fine," he reassured her, but there was a slight quiver to his voice that revealed what he really was thinking.

She just nodded and tried hard not to start crying right now. Ron studied her for a brief second before continuing to walk down the corridor and up the stairs towards the Gryffindor tower. It wasn't until they reached the Fat Lady that Hermione realized that he hadn't let go of her hand.

Oh God, she thought with a mixture of gratitude at Ron's comforting gesture and confusion and despair. Ron, why do you have to be so wonderful? Her eyes were prickling more than ever, and she knew she was dangerously close to bursting out into tears right there and then in the common room. Fortunately, no one was there--she had overheard Professor McGonagall telling some other professor in the hallway outside the hospital that she had ordered all of her students to bed and told them there would be an announcement in the morning.

She paused for a moment outside of the girls' dormitory staircase, wondering if she really wanted to go up to bed. She knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep, but she also didn't Ron seeing her cry. And if she told him she was going to stay up, he would probably offer to sit with her.

Finally, she reluctantly slipped her hand out of Ron's grip. "Good night," she whispered, startled at how much her voice was shaking. "Get some sleep."

"You too," Ron returned, eying her worriedly. She swiftly turned her back to him and fled up to the sanctuary of her dormitory.

Hermione softly closed the door to her dormitory behind her so she wouldn't wake Lavender or Parvati. But she needn't have bothered--they were still up, gossiping about what had happened.

"Hermione! Is Harry all right?"

"What happened?"

"Tell us everything!"

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, her voice trembling even more than ever as she fought to keep from crying. "I don't want to talk about it right now, but Harry is fine."

Luckily, Lavender and Parvati, twits as they may be, knew when to shut up, and tactfully closed their curtains and soon Hermione could hear their steady breathing indicating they had fallen asleep. Mechanically, she changed into her pajamas and got into bed, but she didn't even try to fall asleep. Her mind was too busy replaying the moment when Harry had touched the Triwizard Cup and disappeared, and seeing Dumbledore almost carry Harry into the hospital wing. And then there had been that awful moment when Harry's eyes had scrunched up, moisture brimming in his irises as he fought so hard to keep the tears from leaking out. Harry had actually almost cried. Harry Potter had almost cried, the Boy who Lived, the most powerful wizard she had ever met had almost broken down in front of her. Whatever had happened to him, it had been really bad. All she knew that it had to do with Voldemort, and she knew that Voldemort was back.

Nausea clawed at her throat as the last statement she had just thought fully kicked in. He was back, he really was back. She had read several books about the dark years that had dominated during Voldemort's reign and she really wasn't looking forward to going though that sort of hell...

Hermione abruptly kicked back her comforter and swung her legs over the side of her four-poster bed, groping with her feet for her slippers while she pulled on her robe. Quickly tying the sash as she tiptoed down the stairs to the common room, she crept out into the deserted corridors and walked cautiously towards the Astronomy Tower.

She traveled all the way to the roof of the turret and went straight to the spot she had discovered in third-year. It was a small alcove in the stone wall that was rather shallow, but if she sat with her back pressed against the back wall with her knees hugging her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, she was hidden from view yet she could still see if anyone came up the stairs. She had discovered it when she and Ron had been fighting, and after running into him one night in the library and seeing him turn his back on her, she had just fled, and, not really knowing where she was going, found herself staring up at the night sky, hoping it would calm her. And it had, and ever since, she had come here when she needed some peace of mind.

But it wasn't working this time. She leaned the back of her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn't think there was anything or anyone who could make her feel better right now.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes flew open. Is that who she thought it was? Sure enough, there he was, standing at the top of the stairs, still fully dressed.

"Ron?" she called, leaning forward so her head was sticking out of the alcove. "What are you doing here?"

Ron looked relieved as he walked over and settled down next to her, their shoulders companionably touching. "I was still in the common room when you came down. You walked right past me, so I followed you." He looked at her curiously. "What are you doing here?"

I came here to cry, actually, Hermione thought. But she just shrugged for her answer, biting her lip hard to keep it from trembling. She didn't think she could talk right now without completely breaking down.

Ron seemed to understand, and he just sat beside her, not saying anything and watching the stars. Hermione leaned her head back again, comforted by his presence. She had come up here to be alone, but found that she much rather have Ron beside her than anyone else in the world.

Her eyes wandered up the night sky, and she surveyed the stars reflectively, still quite taken by their simple beauty, despite the fact she had spent four years studying them for Astronomy. The sky was magnificent shade of inky indigo, indicating that dawn was still quite a few hours off, yet the stars shone bright as ever. It was comforting to know that some things would never change, she thought. No matter what happens with You-Know-Who, these stars would still keep shining just like this.

But then she found herself staring at the flags fluttering in the distance atop the stands of the Quidditch pitch. The picture of Harry appearing at the entrance to the maze, face down in the grass flashed again in her head. The lump was so large in her throat that swallowing didn't help, and the only thing that could help was one thing she didn't want to do in front of Ron. She cautiously put a hand around her mouth so her sob could be stifled, and the tears started to leak out.

Once it started, she couldn't stop. Hermione tried as hard as she could to make sure Ron wouldn't notice--he's just feel uncomfortable and awkward. But Ron glanced over at her a few moments later, and his face blanched when he realized she was crying.

"Don't, Hermione," he said quietly, "I hate it when you cry..."

Hermione dropped her head onto her knees to hide her tear-streaked face. Damn, she didn't want to make him feel like this. Not now, not with everything that happened. "I'm sorry," she managed to get out in between quiet sobs.

She jumped slightly when she felt his hand on the back of her head, not patting it like he usually did when she grabbed him, bawling, but more stroking it with less awkwardness than usual. She couldn't help leaning into his touch, feeling some of her anguish draining away by his presence.

"It'll be okay," Ron told her. "He's Harry. He'll get through anything."

"Ron, didn't you hear what they were saying?" Hermione brought her head back up and she stared straight at Ron's wide, anxious eyes. "He's back, You-Know-Who is back! And I'll be my copy of Hogwarts: A History that one of the first things he'll do is try to kill Harry again!"

"He can try," Ron conceded, "but Harry's beaten him before; he can do it again."

"And if he's back, Ron, if he's really back..." Hermione trailed off, trying to put into words what she had read about You-Know-Who's reign. "I--I guess---I'm just..." she sighed heavily, "I'm just so scared, Ron," she finally admitted.

"Me too," Ron replied, his hand now resting at the nape of her neck since he had stopped stroking her head. Hermione was keenly aware at how right it felt for Ron to be talking to her like this, telling her it was all right, because it was only from Ron or Harry or Dumbledore or McGonagall perhaps that could reassure her and quell her fears. But of course there was the fact that she would only want Ron to comfort her and pat her head and tell her to stop crying. Then again, she wanted him to comfort her in another way, and although she knew that Ron probably hated it when she did this, she had to.

She burst out into a fresh wave of tears and threw her arms around Ron, sobbing into his shoulder, chiding herself for being so weak. She wondered if Ron was rolling his eyes at her display of affection or if he was just looking scared as he often did when she grabbed him like this. But, despite how uncomfortable he felt, Ron came through he always did. He brought his hand back up in her hair, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. This was a surprise; he was actually hugging her back. Usually, he just stood there and occasionally patted her head.

Hermione didn't know how long it took her to get control of herself, but when she finally did, she reluctantly pulled away, wiping her eyes on her pajama sleeve. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I shouldn't have carried on like that."

"Don't be," Ron said in a low voice in such a gentle unlike Ron way that it actually made a shiver rush up and down her spine. Wow, Ron needed to talk like this more often. "Are you going to be all right?" She nodded. Ron studied her for a minute, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was it was her imagination, or a trick of the moonlight, but his eyes actually looked a bit red, like he had been crying with her. But that was impossible--Ron didn't cry. That was even more inconceivable than Harry crying.

"Come on," Ron got to his feet, and held out a hand to help Hermione to hers. "We should get some sleep."

As the two of them walked back to the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione felt safe for the first time since this awful night had began.