Hermione Granger and the Beginning of the End

The bitterly cold days of January rapidly passed into the bitterly cold days of February, and little to no progress had been made in the effort to find Tom Riddle. Hermione, Harry, and Ron passed many days poring over books and discussing possibilities, but were unable to come up with any ideas that were entirely feasible. The most damning factor was that they had not a clue where Riddle was hiding, so unless he came to them, they had no hope of finding him. Unless they received a major lead from a very unlikely source, they would have to depend on Harry's Occlumency to track Riddle down. All three of the friends were very edgy about relying on that method. Harry's health seemed to decline a bit ever since his Occlumency lessons had intensified--his complexion was notably paler, his face much more drawn and almost haunted looking, and he appeared to be exhausted all of the time. Hermione and Ron spent a great deal of patrolling time discussing how awful Harry looked and what could they do to help. They both agreed--Ron more reluctantly than Hermione--that Ginny was the best medicine for Harry's condition. There was a palpable reduction in Harry's extreme anxiety and tension whenever he was visiting Ginny in the hospital, and after Ginny was released, those moments of relaxation greatly increased. Ginny's spirits had been low in the beginning, but she was now steadily returning to her spunky old self, and that was one of the few things that made Harry smile these days.

The rise in Muggle hate-crimes certainly wasn't making any of them smile--it seemed like Harry received word from Lupin about Muggle attacks every day now; they happened so often now that Harry wouldn't even tell Hermione unless she asked. Although she never voiced it aloud, all three of them knew how deeply every Muggle attack affected Hermione more than anyone else. She couldn't help imagining what would happen if her hometown was eventually targeted and her parents assaulted, or even killed, by drunken and horrible Death Eaters. It was weighing very heavily on her mind that despite all of the horrors in the world, she still couldn't bring herself to make the first move and apologize to her parents. But as long as she was at Hogwarts, Hermione knew things would never be the same between them--it would be best just to wait until she graduated before taking the first step toward making amends. It was especially awful now that the Death Eaters seemed to be taking a fiendish interest in targeting teenagers and children, and then doing absolutely horrendous things to the bodies; a couple of the numerous female victims' bodies weren't even found, except for a small piece here and there. Coupled with her concern about the Muggles, Hermione had to agree that one of the most horrible things about the Riddle situation was that they knew absolutely nothing. Neither the Ministry nor the Order had any concrete leads to follow, and they couldn't very well announce to the wizarding world that there were now two Voldemorts, so very few people knew about the danger they were in.

Besides, the Order had enough problems to contend with; members seemed to be disappearing at an alarming rate, indicating that the Death Eaters were indeed not only spending their time attacking Muggles, but members of the Order, as well. The plan was to pick off Order members one at a time as rapidly as possible--in the last two and a half weeks, a whopping ten Order members had vanished, and six bodies had been found. Although Ron hadn't said anything, all of them knew that this was the issue that Ron was the most troubled with--his entire family, save for him, Ginny, and that traitor, Percy, were in the Order. It could only be a matter of time before a Weasley was targeted for assassination.

And Harry's primary concern? Hermione could tell that Harry was also incredibly worried about Lupin's safety, but she also knew that this wasn't the main issue that was keeping him up at night, and pushing him to continue to strain himself with repeated practice of Occlumency. It was Riddle--it all came back to Riddle. There weren't enough people trying to stop Riddle from gaining ground, and Harry therefore felt that it was up to him. Although he had not an inkling how to solve the monumental problem, Hermione had a sinking feeling that he was going to be the one to do it, even if it meant risking and losing his own life. And although she and Ron were going to be right there helping him, it was still absolutely terrifying to think that her Harry, her best friend, could be facing two Voldemorts any day now.

The war had begun a long time ago, but this was really it. The battles were intensifying, the body count was rapidly rising, and the terror was flying rampant across the entire world. All of these horrendous things had to climax in a resounding victory for one side, because things couldn't get any scarier and bigger than this. Either evil was going to defeat everything good and pure in the world, or good was going to strike back and force the darkness away. But whatever what was going to happen would happen soon--and it was going to be bloody, painful, and just plain terrible. This was it--this was the beginning of the end.

**

"Ow," Hermione mumbled exhaustedly as she was abruptly jerked back into full consciousness. She hated always having one of those pounding headaches after being jerked out of a dream, especially the ones that accompanied that annoying recurring nightmare of hers. She massaged her temples briefly, before starting her typical routine of rolling out of bed and stumbling her way over to the bathroom. As the cool water soothed her flushed cheeks, her stomach started to writhe in anxiety. In a few moments, Ron would be in her mind again. As thrilling as the prospect was, she wasn't certain that she honestly wanted it to happen. She hadn't had the dream since Dean's death, therefore Ron hadn't been in her mind since before he had been in her room and had slept in her bed. Even though that wasn't a big deal in the least, it nevertheless set her ill at ease.

He hadn't mentioned anything to her about leaving him asleep in the common room when they both knew he had been waiting up for her. Harry had awoken him when he had returned from the hospital wing, and if Hermione knew Ron as well as she thought she did, Ron would have asked if she had been with him. Harry would have told him yes, but she had come back to the tower before he had, thereby making it logical to assume that Ron knew she'd walked right past him. He knew she had made the conscious decision to leave him.

Hermione knew it had been the right thing to do--she and Ron couldn't carry on like they had been, and if she was going to continue to make a clear distinction between the Ron-Hermione friendship and the Ron-Hermione more-than-friends-relationship-that-had-been-the-best-thing-that-had-and-probably-will-ever-happen-to-her, she had to be consistent. As much as it sickened her, it had to be done.

Hermione?

She opened eyes, surprised to find that she was still in the bathroom, clutching the sides of the sink for dear life and leaning her head against the cool glass of the mirror. He was early.

Hermione, what is it--was it worse?

She swallowed hard. He could feel that something was gnawing away at her, but thought it had to do with the nightmare. For a fleeting moment, Hermione thought about lying to him and telling him what he expected to hear, so that she just could curl back up into bed. She wasn't certain that she had the energy to endure this conversation.

Hermione, come on, what's wrong--are you okay? Do you want me to come up there?

How would you get here? Hermione finally recognized Ron's presence as she pushed herself away from the mirror and blankly stared at her reflection.

I could fly--I know which window is yours now. My broom's right here, I could go out through the window--I'd be there in two minutes...

No. Hermione closed her eyes again as they started to burn annoyingly. No, Ron, we can't...

Sure I can--everyone's asleep--no one will know any better...

No, Ron, not that--this. We can't do this anymore.

There was a long silence in which Hermione sniffed once, her chest painfully tight. Friends take care of each other, Ron tried vainly, but Hermione wouldn't let him finish.

No, Ron, because even the greatest of friends doesn't go to these extremes to take care of their friends, and even if they would, I don't think that's the case here. When you do these sorts of things, Ron, I can't help wondering whether you.... Hermione found herself quite unable to even think the end of that sentence, so as her fingers slid over the smooth porcelain of the sink she was holding on to, she simply plunged ahead to the next one. She could tell that Ron knew exactly what she meant; she could feel the way his shoulders tensed up at her words. And don't worry, because I know you don't anymore. But you can't keep making me feel this way--it's not fair and I can't move on like you have until I stop feeling like this. In case Ron didn't understand, Hermione bit the inside of her lip, and with a long exhale, gently steered him in the proper direction to feel for himself just how she felt.

Ron jerked again as the emotions flooded over him, and Hermione flinched along with him, her eyes flying open, but instead of seeing her own startled face staring back at her from the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the boys' dormitory. All of the lights were extinguished, and the only sounds were sleepy mutterings and an occasional snore, but she saw him as clear as day. He was sitting upright, comforter still wrapped around his legs, but his feet stuck out from underneath and dangled off the foot of the bed--he must have scooted down to the far end when he had been suggesting to her that he come up to her room. He had one hand meshed in his hair, elbow propped up on his knee, while the other hand gripped and twisted the comforter. A horrible, awful, overwhelming sense of guilt momentarily overpowered her, along with a whirlwind of despair, loss, fury, anxiety, and oddly enough stubborn defiance. She gasped slightly--Ron rarely allowed her to feel his own emotions whenever they connected like this, but whenever he did, it always took her breath away. Ron felt emotions that were stronger than anything she had ever known--besides her love for him, of course. She didn't know how she could have ever accused him of having the emotional range of a teaspoon.

So that's it then. Ron was still reeling from the surge of Hermione's unrestrained emotions, and Hermione could feel that he was actually trembling. Her eyes prickled again, but she couldn't tell if she were the one about to cry, or if he was. We can't talk like this anymore.

Unless it's absolutely necessary, Hermione amended. If she was in trouble and didn't have any way of communicating, then she would certainly allow Ron to find his way into her mind so that he could help her. But other than that, she was going to do everything in her power to block him from her thoughts, though honestly, she didn't have any real power to stop him. Ron was the empath, therefore he controlled the connection. However, she also knew that Ron would never abuse his gift. If she didn't want him there, he wouldn't go.

And you really feel all that--I do that to you when I-- Ron gulped to dispel the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Hermione's hand instinctively fluttered to her abdomen in sympathetic pain. The vortex of Ron's powerful, painful emotions was swimming dizzyingly around in Hermione's head, and she closed her eyes once again, confusion mounting. She couldn't sort out one emotion from the next, but something was telling her that Ron shouldn't be feeling this way--something was not quite right with this, but the thoughts and emotions were so intense and overwhelming that Hermione couldn't tell what it was. I didn't know, Ron said weakly. I should have, but I just didn't...

You can't know everything about me, Ron, Hermione reminded him. It's not right...

Nothing about this is right, Ron interrupted sharply before he could stop himself. Hermione braced herself for another rush, but Ron finally seemed to realize that the connection had become two-way, and hastily moved to block her. So you need closure, right? The tension caused by the suppression of his true thoughts hammered Hermione directly in the chest, and she gasped slightly again--what on earth was going on with him? Now he sounded almost angry with her, but Hermione knew that he couldn't be--it wasn't Ron's style. Well, actually, it was, but he wouldn't get angry about something like this--not when he knew how much this issue had honestly upset her. Consider this closure, Ron told her tightly.

Thank you, was all Hermione could think of to say, although a huge part of her was screaming to take it all back. She loved Ron under any circumstances, but especially when he took care of her and was wonderful like he had been. She didn't want to move on--she had promised herself that she was going to wait until the end of the year--but things couldn't continue like this. Ron had been especially wonderful recently, as he always had been during and after a crisis like the Riddle affair, and damn it, it was just making her love the prat more and more until she could no longer stand it. She was wildly starving for Ron to be back in her life the way used to be, and the fact that he was giving her little nips and then pulling away before she could taste everything was downright cruel. She knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, which was why she hadn't said anything before, but now, finally, mercifully, maybe she could find some peace. She had been in such a good place a few weeks ago, but now, after this crisis, she was right back where she was a year ago--barely hanging on by a thread with the thought of not having Ron Weasley in her life.

And I'm sorry--I didn't--if I knew, I wouldn't have--

I know.

Things have just been so awful lately, and you've always been the one...

DON'T. A small sob finally burst through Hermione's clenched lips, and she struggled to keep another one from escaping. Please, Ron, if you have any regard for me as a friend whatsoever, don't finish that sentence. Ron, this is what I'm talking about--when you say things like that, how am I not supposed to think...!

Okay, okay, I'll just go. Ron backpedaled hastily the moment he realized she was crying. He instantly vanished, and Hermione was alone once again, staring at her reflection as the tears slid down her face. His initial absence always left her with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, and the air always seemed to be twenty degrees cooler. However, this time the gnawing loneliness was so acute that she thought she was going to throw up, and the chill was so great that she actually shivered. Hugging her arms around her in order to dissipate the goose-bumps and quell the nausea, Hermione briskly made her way back into her bedroom, gulped down a glass of water, and climbed back into bed. She lay down, not closing her eyes for some odd reason. Then she realized that she was unconsciously waiting for something--or someone. Hermione gritted her teeth and flopped over onto her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut, repeating the same words over and over again before drifting off to sleep: this is the right thing to do, this is the right thing to do...

She was back on top of the Astronomy Tower with the warm wind whistling through her wild hair. She leaned forward to peer over the edge of the roof, marveling at how high up this tower really was, when the door creaked open and Hermione surreptitiously went for her wand.

"Come on, now, put that away before you hurt someone."

Hermione smiled involuntarily at the sound of his voice. "You're just afraid that that someone's going to be you."

"Petrified," Ron Weasley admitted. Hermione turned around to greet him as he wandered over to join her at the edge of the roof and let out a scream of shock. Her hand clapped over her mouth. Ron stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at her in puzzlement, before finally having the common sense to turn around. He jolted when he spotted himself standing at the entrance to the roof, and quickly went for his wand. By this time, however, Hermione had figured it out, and immediately shoved his arm away. That Ron vanished as his arm swung downward, but Hermione didn't notice or care; she was too intent on stalking over to the Ron standing by the door, her eyes blazing.

"Ronald Weasley, you'd better be grateful that it is impossible for you to die in my dream!" Hermione shouted irately at him, but to her great outrage, Ron only smiled.

"That's why I waited," he informed her cheekily. He pretended to glance at his watch. "Took you long enough to fall asleep."

Hermione's hands went to her hips. If Ron thought that he could get away with using that Lockhartian charm on her, he had another thing coming. "Get out of here!" she demanded heatedly before turning her back on him. Or trying to turn her back on him--Ron caught her arm before she could complete the movement and yanked her back to him.

"Hang on--we haven't finished just yet." Ron had dropped the cute act, and she could tell that he was deadly serious about this, but that didn't stop her from squirming. "We're not leaving it like we did."

The intensity of this moment was making her weak in the knees, and she tugged vainly. "Let go of me," she said with a slightly shaking voice.

Ron did not obey her request; he actually seized her other arm so that she had no chance of escaping. He was holding her so tightly, that she was certain that if hadn't been a dream, she would have lost circulation in her lower arms. "I'm sorry," Ron told her sincerely. "Really I am--I had no idea...." His voice rose in intensity as his frustration suddenly overwhelmed him. "I just can't help it sometimes, Hermione--I can't! I-I-I just react, and I don't over-analyze every little bloody thing that I do the way you do--I just do it! And I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to! I thought I was helping," Ron explained somewhat wildly. Hermione opened her mouth to argue the point, but he overrode her immediately. "Merlin, Hermione, don't you get it? All of this," he gestured wildly to indicate the situation, "is for you--it's all for you!"

It was as though a knife went through her heart, twisting it painfully out of shape, though not shattering it as it had a year ago--how could it, when the wounds still weren't healed? For the first time, Hermione realized just how irreplaceably broken her heart was. He was saying the words she'd always wanted to hear, but at the same time, all that echoed in her mind was his flat voice, clearly stating that he didn't love her. It was just so confusing--due to their empathic connection, she knew he couldn't be lying to her right now, but there was still that irrevocable fact that he didn't love her the way she loved him. The confusion reached its climax, and Hermione stamped her foot as anger overwhelmed her. "Ron, will you please just tell me what the hell is going on with us?!" she finally shrieked in pure desperation.

A tidal wave of conflicting emotions crashed over her again--so much so that she had to recoil a few steps. "Do you remember that night in the hospital?" Ron told her when he managed to get a hold of himself. "Right after I got back?" Hermione nodded. It was suddenly impossible to speak when he was looking at her like that. "And do you remember what I said to you--that you're the only one who knows me?"

A huge lump was now lodged in Hermione's throat, and she wished that Ron would just go away so she could cry in peace. At the same time, however, she never ever wanted those blue eyes to stray away from her, because she had never felt as wanted, needed, or desired by someone in her entire life. "It's still true." Ron's voice had become a hoarse whisper, his throat clogged by his own emotions. "That was real, and this," he said, and gestured meaninglessly around him, "this isn't." He braved taking Hermione's hand, and she was so overwhelmed that she let him. "This is real," he repeated, staring down at their entwined fingers, "and you know it."

A weak smile finally broke across his face despite the moisture that was brimming in his eyes. "You're bloody brilliant and all, Hermione, but you think with your head too much. Yeah, you do know me in that brilliant head of yours, but where you really know me is right here." His free hand lightly tapped her chest directly below the collarbone, indicating her heart. (Of course, he couldn't touch the exact area for obvious reasons, but Hermione knew what he meant nevertheless). His finger barely grazed her breastbone, but it was enough to make hot waves of ecstasy threaten to swallow her whole. Hermione didn't know whether she should moan, and melt into his arms, or slap the hell out of him. "You know me, and you know why I'm doing all this, in here." Fortunately, the hand dropped away from her before she had the chance to do anything stupid. "All you have to do is trust yourself, and you'll know."

"All I know," Hermione got out after a brief but violent internal struggle with herself over whether or not she should follow her heart and throw her arms around him, or play it safe and remain furious at him, "is that this hurts more than anything I've ever known, and that I have to protect myself--especially since you're not around to help me out in that area. And as much as I hate doing this, and as much as I still lo--," she paused before she could finish the thought. "We can't go on like this--I want to, but...we can't and I don't know what else to do." Hermione shook her head in frustration. "I mean, you're so wonderful to me, Ron--God, no one treats me like you do, even now. And I also know that you have no romantic feelings toward me, so the only logical inference is that you enjoy making me--you know," she sputtered, waving her hand furiously to illustrate her point, before her voice took on a sudden, sharp accusatory tone. "You just love that you have that power over me, don't you?! That's why you keep doing this to me, isn't it?!"

Whoa. Hermione jerked slightly as it suddenly registered what she had just accused him of. Where did that come from? Did she honestly think that about Ron--did she really think that he was callous enough to hurt her like that? She bit her lip. She must have. It wasn't possible to lie to Ron right now, not when he could read her thoughts. Ron didn't look surprised in the slightest, however, thereby arousing the suspicion in her mind that he had felt those subconscious thoughts, and that that was why he had intruded on her mind once again. His face, although absent of any trace of surprise, was chock full of acceptance, hurt, stubbornness, and a determination to set things straight.

There was also, however, a great deal of anger written all across his face. "Do you think I like seeing you like this?" Ron shouted. "Do you honestly think I enjoy knowing that every time I do whatever I feel is right, it ends up killing you?" He paced for a few moments in agitation, before turning back to face her, and Hermione could see in his eyes that he was just as frustrated and as furious as she was. "Do not accuse me of playing with you, because I would never do that!" He barreled back toward her, but Hermione stepped away before he could grab hold of her again. He jerked to a stop when he saw her flinch away from him, and he brought his hands up to grip his hair in irritation. "Maybe you don't really know me at all," Ron muttered angrily. The stab in her heart intensified as Ron dropped his hands away from his head and raised his voice again, as rage overtook him. "How could you even think that, Hermione?!"

"How could I not?!" Hermione retorted heatedly. "One minute you look at me in a way that reduces me to some idiotic, quivering, lovelorn little schoolgirl, and the next, you're off snogging that Daphne Greengrass!"

"Daphne and I are not what you think!" Ron protested, but Hermione was on a roll.

"I always worried about you getting a big head when you finally got your inferiority 'oh-woe-is-me-I-have-five-older-brothers-who-I-could-never-compete-with' complex and finally realized just how fantastic you are, and this just proves the point!" She shook her head in disgust, and the conversation took a decidedly nasty turn. One of the downfalls of empathic connection was the inability to hide anything--you can block like hell, but you can't lie, and sometimes thoughts or words slip out that you don't mean for the other person to hear. A prime example of this consequence occurred, as words that she never intended for Ron to hear, but couldn't help thinking, popped out into the open. "And you thought that I was becoming like Percy!"

She wished she could take it back the moment she screamed those awful words--she had only thought them because he had once hurt her so badly by saying the same thing. It wasn't as though she wanted to hurt Ron, but she just couldn't stop herself. Now she was starting to understand what Ron meant by not being able to control yourself every once in a while--it wasn't often that she let her negative emotions overwhelm her like this, but when they did, it was never without consequences--except when she had punched Malfoy in the face. Ron just gaped at her, a conflicting swirl of emotions radiating off of him, and Hermione steeled herself for the beginning of the biggest row they would ever have.

But Ron only clenched his fists, shuddering as he fought the urge to shout something at her, before opening his mouth. His voice was tight and small, since all of his energy was dedicated to controlling himself. "So is this enough closure?" Hermione nodded furiously again, and mentally decided that the most hated word in the English language was closure. "Well, then, glad we got this settled." He pointed over her shoulder. "I'll let you get back to your dream now. Hope it doesn't scare you too much," he added nastily. Hermione scowled at him while giving him the infamous glare that made younger students cower in fear of the strict Head Girl. Ron didn't back down as most people did, though, and anger still clouded his eyes, but there was something else lurking underneath them. Normally, Hermione would have tried to discover what it was, but now she was too livid to put the effort into it. "See you," he said with finality.

With a pop, he was gone. Hermione couldn't help swaying slightly afterward, but someone caught her from behind. She turned to find that she was being held up by the Ron from her recurring nightmare. He looked very confused and wonderful, as he always did in her dreams, but Hermione didn't care--she was too intent on the one who had just left her for good.

So this was what closure really felt like.

**

"Hermione, you look awful!"

"I could say the same to you," Hermione responded grumpily. "But then again, you're fresh from the hospital wing." She brushed aside her crankiness, and turned to Ginny Weasley with concern. "How are you feeling by the way?"

"Fine," Ginny reassured her. Hermione noticed that she was still a bit too pale and moving more slowly than usual, but her eyes were still full of the Weasley sparkle. "Rough night?"

Hermione glanced over at her friend while stepping out of the portrait hole. "Your brother is an idiot."

"Ah, say no more." Ginny nodded with wise understanding. "I've tried to warn you about him, but you wouldn't listen, would you?" Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "So what did he do now?"

"I--he--it's complicated," Hermione sputtered in irritation. In all honesty, she didn't know exactly what to think about last night. She wasn't certain which part was troubling her the most: the row itself, or the bit about him telling her to trust her heart because she already knew deep inside why all of this was happening between them. It was almost as though he was challenging her to find out for herself why he had broken up with her. Ron had always had the utmost faith in his friends, and he truly believed that she could find out for herself what he was going on about. He still believed that she was the one who knew him best, even after they had broken up, but at the same he was still insisting that he didn't love her.... Hermione sighed; it was all very, very confusing.

Ginny could sense that Hermione didn't want to pursue the topic, so she changed the subject. "Have you seen Harry yet?"

"No," Hermione answered as the two girls entered the Great Hall for breakfast. There was an odd inflection to Ginny's voice, and she frowned in her direction. "Why do you ask?"

"I--he's--he's an idiot," Ginny finally got out, cheeks turning pink in a manner quite similar to the way Hermione's had a few moments earlier.

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed as she dropped down into an available seat. Ginny was about to take the spot across from her, but stopped as she peered farther down the table.

"Ron's down there." Ginny nodded down the row to where Ron was sitting with Parvati and Neville. Ron seemed to hear his name and he looked up to smile a good morning to his sister. His face froze when he saw Hermione, and the chatter in the Great Hall seemed to come to a halt as the palpable tension thickly pervaded the cheery atmosphere. Hermione looked away immediately, not trusting herself to be civil around him at the moment.

"Let's just stay here," Hermione mumbled as she reached for some porridge. Ron looked disappointed but he didn't protest.

"That bad, huh?" Ginny commented as she dropped down to retrieve the eggs. She opened her mouth to say more, but a puzzled frown crossed her face, and she turned toward the door a few seconds before Harry entered with a letter clutched in his hand. Hermione could tell even from that distance that something was wrong, and Ron could, too, for by the time Harry reached Ginny and Hermione, he had moved down the table to them.

"They got him." Harry slammed the letter down on the table violently, knocking over several goblets and pitchers in the process. He fell into the seat beside Ginny, while Hermione leaned across the table to read the letter that was positioned right in front of the youngest Weasley. Ron remained standing as he stooped down to read over his sister's shoulder.

"Oh Harry," Hermione breathed as she hastily scanned the letter with a sinking heart. Another Order casualty would have been bad enough, but the fact that it was Remus Lupin made it a thousand times worse. Ginny's hand covered her dropped jaw, while her other hand unconsciously fell onto Harry's thigh. Ron swallowed hard, and looked back and forth between the three of them. Hermione knew that someone had to say something reassuring, so she cleared her throat somewhat timidly. "They don't know if anything happened to him for certain, Harry..."

"Remus is never late for guard duty," Harry interrupted flatly, head banging down on the table.

"Is it a full moon?" Ron suggested hopefully.

"Full moon isn't until tonight," Harry replied glumly. "It couldn't be because of that."

"They'll find him," Ginny said softly.

Harry just shook his head while straightening up, but he didn't argue the point. He had already attracted enough attention to himself, and didn't plan on making a scene by shouting a reminder that Voldemort didn't take prisoners too often. There was little hope that Remus Lupin would be found alive. He looked at his three closest friends, hating and liking at the same time that all three of them were this concerned about him. He didn't like making them worry, but it was a nice reminder, especially now that his third guardian was missing, that there were people out there who cared about him. Feeling that a change of subject was necessary, he poked his glasses higher on his nose and focused on the friend that often sprang up in his mind in the most unlikely of times, whether he liked it or not. "How're you feeling, by the way?"

"Better," Ginny answered with a slight pink hue coloring her pale cheeks. "Thanks for asking."

Harry nodded, and sniffed hard once before a frown crossed his face. "You two aren't sitting together?" Harry had just realized that Ron's plate was several places down from Hermione and Ginny's, and he looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione. "You aren't fighting again, are you?"

There was an unusual pleading tone underlying Harry's words, and Hermione glanced over at Ron. At the same moment he looked at her, and this time there was no tension whatsoever. Harry was much more important than some stupid row.

"No," Ron told Harry reassuringly. "Are we, Hermione?"

"Of course not." Hermione soothed Harry with a smile. Harry looked infinitely relieved, as he exhaustedly reached for some pumpkin juice. Ron rose to retrieve his plate so he could finish eating with his friends, and Hermione watched him go, wondering if it were really possible for them to act as though last night's argument hadn't happened. It amazed her at times that she and Ron were both such emotional people, yet whenever it was necessary, they were perfectly willing to bury their feelings and ignore issues such as this. All of fifth-year had been dedicated to this repression, and now they were right back to where they were two years ago. Hermione sighed as she took a bite of her bacon. She couldn't go back--she had hoped she could just be Ron's friend again, despite her feelings for him. She had, after all, done it all of fourth-year, but it just wasn't possible now. She could never go back, after being totally and utterly in love with someone, and having that relationship end. Ron settled down in the seat next to her, and as his arm inadvertently brushed against hers, Hermione knew in an instant that he was thinking very similar thoughts. They could act like things were normal--as if things were ever normal--all they wanted in front of Harry, but they both knew in their hearts that this was far from over.

**

"Blimey," was all that Hagrid could weakly mutter, after he had listened to Hermione rant for almost two hours over Ron Weasley's idiocy. "I 'ad no idea tha' you an' Ron were goin' thru all tha'."

Hermione shrugged as she finally leaned back in her seat, mouth dry from the excessive talking. It was a few days after the blow-up with Ron, and there had been little to no resolution. So while Ron and Harry were at Quidditch practice, she decided that a fresh perspective on the matter was necessary. Hagrid had been a most receptive audience, but now they were finally where Hermione had wanted to be for the entire evening--at the point where Hagrid would tell her what he thought about all of this. She picked up her mug of now-cold tea, and swallowed a large mouthful. She grimaced slightly, but didn't ask Hagrid for another mugful; in her fury, she had already spilled the first one all over her jumper--which was now drying in front of the fire. In fact, she'd dumped so much of the brown liquid down her front, that even with magic she couldn't remove all of it, or at least she couldn't in her royally irritated state. "What do you think, Hagrid?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yeh know what I think," Hagrid answered sagely. "I think he loves yeh." Hermione let out something between a snort of disbelief and sigh of hope--she wasn't sure what to think anymore. "Here's why." Hagrid lumbered over to the hearth to inspect Hermione's jumper, but laying one sausage-sized finger on the still damp wool, found that it was still not ready to be worn. "Ron's grown up an' all, bu' no matter wha', he's still gonna be the lad who was belchin' up slugs in my house." He lowered his head to look Hermione squarely in the eye. "An' I think we both know he didn' do tha' just because Malfoy called yeh the M-word. He did it 'cause nobody says nothin' bad about yeh without him havin' a say about it."

Hermione squirmed slightly in her seat in recollection of that day; that was the very first time she'd consciously thought of Ron as more than a friend. "That was ages ago, Hagrid," Hermione answered matter-of-factly to cover up the faint blush threatening to creep into her cheeks.

"Bu' he keeps doin' it, don't he?" Hagrid insisted. "He keeps lookin' out for yeh, don't he?" Hermione couldn't argue with that. Hagrid chuckled slightly before returning to his comfy armchair. "Do yeh know when I firs' knew for sure that he loved yeh--an' I don't mean fancy now, because I knew that he fancied yeh since your firs-year. I mean loved." Hermione silently shook her head, rather curious about where Hagrid was going with this.

"We was in class--it was yer fourth-year, I reckon--and we were studyin' those Blast-Ended Skrewts. Remember how they like to spit out fire an' stuff?" Hermione nodded. That was something you didn't forget very quickly. "An' yeh remember how one time Ron got a pretty nasty burn from 'em?" She nodded again--Ron had received a horrible burn on his shin, and the bottom portion of his pants had almost been incinerated completely one cold January afternoon. She had taken Ron up to the hospital wing afterward, although they were rather cool to each other; they were still reeling from the Viktor Krum incident, and the walk to the infirmary had included a somewhat heated replay of the Yule Ball argument.

"Well, tha' skrewt wasn' goin' for 'im," Hagrid revealed with a small smile. Hermione realized what he was insinuating, and her jaw dropped slightly in pleased shock. "You were tryin' to find a book or sumthin' so you were kneelin' down and lookin' in yer bag and not payin' any attention, so when one of 'em broke away and scurried off in yeh're direction, yeh didn' see it. And tha's when Ron stepped right in fron' of yeh--right when it was ready to let loose. I woulda stopped 'em before, but he moved so quick that there wasn' any spell or anythin' tha' coulda stopped 'em."

Hermione continued to stare at Hagrid; she couldn't believe it. She really shouldn't be surprised, knowing about all of the countless times that Ron had done things like this for her, but it still made her feel as though she had swallowed a huge gulp of butterbeer, nevertheless. She also couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed Ron's rescue attempt that day; she dimly recalled hearing Ron shouting moments before he had finally attracted her attention by yelling in pain, but she had been so absorbed in trying to find her book and pondering over how on earth Rita Skeeter could have eavesdropped on Hagrid, that she hadn't really listened to exactly what Ron had been saying. He had been standing around ten feet away from her when it had happened, so she never had guessed that she had been the original target. Ron must have cut the creature off before it could get any closer, and never confessed to her what he'd done. Even after she had scolded him for being careless around the skrewts, he hadn't said a word. Well, he had scowled and snidely mentioned Vikky, but he hadn't brought up the fact that he had actually been protecting her. Ron had actually jumped in front of flames--burning, hot, agonizing flesh-scarring flames--when he was fourteen in order to protect her, and he had never expected any credit or praise for his actions; he simply did it, because he felt it was the right thing to do it and that was that. She had always known that she'd be willing to die for Ron, but the fact that he was willing to do the same for her four years earlier was quite a mind-boggling thought.

"Tha' kinda love don' go away, Hermione," Hagrid stated sincerely. "He loves yeh more than he loves himself--he loves yeh with all he 'as."

Hermione's throat burned at Hagrid's words. God, she wished she could believe them, she really did, because that was how much she loved the prat. But there were still so many doubts and fears plaguing her mind, that Hermione felt it was safer--much more awful, but safer--to rely on logic and hard evidence, and convince herself that Ron Weasley didn't love her. The faint glimmer of hope that shone brightly and warmly in her heart, however, prompted her to ask in a small voice, "Then why, Hagrid, did he tell me he didn't?"

Hagrid's brow furrowed as he thought hard. "Well, I righ' don' know fer sure," he admitted gruffly. "It certainly don' sound like Ron to do tha' to yeh, even if he was scared or sumthin' like he told yeh." He turned his attention back to Hermione. "He reckons that you know--so wha' do you think?"

Hermione bit her lip, and commenced to analyze all of the evidence, before forcing herself to stop. This was what Ron had advised her not to do--she was thinking too much about this. She had to stop fighting her emotions and let them speak for themselves. She took a deep breath, still chewing thoughtfully on her lip. She pictured Ron in her mind, and an unconscious smile started to filter across her pensive face. His bright hair was the first thing that came to mind--the texture of the soft, thick strands against her fingertips, the bright copper brilliance that blinded her whenever the sunlight shone directly upon it, the fresh, slightly piney smell of it that reminded her of an autumn wind--and always made her think of flying on a broomstick. Then there were the shoulders that reflected his skill in the Keeper field, and were perfect for leaning her head against. And damn, then there were those eyes that killed her every time; it wasn't just the color--which just happened to be the most brilliant shade of blue she had ever seen in her entire life--it was the fact that they radiated every fiber of his being from their depths, right down to how he felt at any given moment. And although he was gradually becoming more adept at hiding how he felt, whenever she really looked into those eyes, she always saw the essence of Ron, the heart and soul of the man she was going to love for all time. God, what a man he was becoming--he was a prat, of course, and he always would be, but he was also the most selfless, empathetic, considerate, and fiercely loyal person in the history of the earth. He would do anything for the people that he cared about, and it was this salient feature of Ron that if she had to pick, was the thing she loved most about him...

"He's protecting me," Hermione stated absently.

"Protectin' you?" Hagrid repeated loudly, breaking Hermione away from her heart's train of thought. "Well, that makes some sense."

Hermione knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was right, but just because it was the truth didn't mean it had to make a lot of sense. She turned to Hagrid questioningly. "But from what?"

"I righ' don' know," Hagrid's pensive frown deepened as he reflected for a moment. "Mebbe from 'imself?"

Hermione couldn't help letting out a small snort of disbelief. "You think that Ron told me that he doesn't love me, because he loves me so much that he doesn't want to risk ever hurting me?" Hermione asked for clarification. When Hagrid nodded, Hermione threw her hands into the air in irritation. "That's ridiculous!"

"Thas' Ron," Hagrid corrected. "'e's always been willin' to sacrifice himself for you. Or Harry. Or anyone, really, that 'e cares abou', that is."

The word sacrifice caused a sharp pain of recognition to strike her in the chest, and for an instant Hermione was back in the Forbidden Forest on a cool June night, staring at two bounty hunters, while one matter-of-factly informed her, "Sometimes we have to sacrifice people or creatures or anything that we hold near and dear to our hearts in order to preserve the greater good."

Another vivid picture flashed in her mind, and suddenly she was a frightened eleven-year-old again, trembling on the white square of a giant chessboard, shaking her head vigorously from side to side as she screamed along with Harry in protest of Ron's determined statement that he was going to be the next victim of the brutal white queen. Ron had just turned to them and snapped impatiently, "You've got to make some sacrifices!"

Ron had belched up slugs for her. Ron had thrown himself directly in the path of a deranged dog in order to protect Harry. Ron had stepped in the path of a Blast-Ended Skrewt so she wouldn't get burned. Ron had taken a Stupefying Spell square in the chest to prevent her and Harry from getting knocked out by it. In a dizzying array of memories, Hermione was very forcibly reminded that Ron was all about sacrifice; he was all about loyalty and devotion, and those attributes sometimes included giving up his own health, safety, and sanity. He had done it many, many times before--why should she be surprised that Hagrid was suggesting that he'd done it again?

She couldn't understand why he had done it, but it made perfect sense. She knew the way Ron's mind worked, and she knew that he would do something as utterly ridiculous as this if he somehow thought he was protecting her. She didn't know what she thought about this--she was touched that Ron was looking out for her yet again with no expectation of any reward or benefit for himself, she was furious that he hadn't told her the truth, she was scared once again that someone could possibly love her this much to sacrifice his own happiness for her welfare--or that she was wrong and that she was getting her hopes up once again only to be sorely disappointed. "That prat," Hermione finally whispered as her fingers came up to her chest, resting on the spot where Ron had placed his hand the night before.

"I told you 'e loves you," Hagrid said triumphantly.

Hermione didn't hear him as she jumped up from her seat to cross to the window. There was no one flying around the pitch--Quidditch practice must be over, and Ron would be walking back to the castle any minute now. She had to talk to the prat--she had to ask him if that was why he had really broken up with her, because if it was, then there was some serious issues to be worked out and a relationship to be salvaged. The flame of hope was shining brighter than ever before, especially when she spotted a shock of red hair atop a tall, lanky build walking across the grounds. Hermione knew she couldn't wait another second to find out if things could at last be remedied with him.

"Thanks for everything, Hagrid," Hermione said hastily as she bolted for the door. "He's walking back now and I have to talk to him, so I'm going to go--good night!" She slammed the door behind her as she ran out, cutting off Hagrid's protests that she had left her cloak and jumper behind, but she didn't care. All she knew was that she had to get to Ron so they could work this out before they wasted another moment being apart.

The cold air bit shrewdly through her thin blouse, but she ran on, oblivious to the goosebumps flaring up all over her arms. Ron was actually heading away from the castle--he must have fancied a walk or something, which didn't surprise her too much; Ron was one of those people who had to move and pace whenever he was edgy or upset about something. This fortunately meant that she wouldn't have to think of an excuse to get Harry and Ginny to allow her to speak to Ron alone. This was the golden opportunity, and Hermione planned on seizing it for all that was worth.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled when he was finally within earshot. Ron slowed down--he had been striding along rather quickly--but he didn't turn around straight away. "Ron, I need to talk to you," she continued as she quickened her pace to shorten the distance between them.

Ron wheeled around to face her, and even though it was hours after sunset, the full moon gave off just enough light for her to finally see his face. Hermione's stomach jolted violently at the sight of it--because it wasn't Ron.

"Percy?!"