Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince

For you I'll wait

Till kingdom comes

Until my days

My days are done

Say you'll come and set me free

Just say you'll wait

You'll wait for me

"Till Kingdom Comes" Coldplay

**

There was an old Muggle saying that proclaimed that when it rained, it poured. An optimist would believe that this expression meant that good times would come in large, abundant doses, but today, Hermione knew that this saying had a much darker meaning. It meant that sometimes loads of awful things happened all at once.

With her arms folded edgily over her chest, Hermione half-ran after the stretcher that Harry had been placed on, jaw clenched as tightly as it had the day Ron had been poisoned. Quidditch was supposed to be fun. Quidditch was not supposed to be about watching your best friend get hit square in the temple with a Bludger and fall off his broom. Hermione swallowed hard and quickened her step. Now everything had gone to hell again. Another Muggle saying stated that death comes in threes and Hermione couldn't help wondering if that pertained to near-deaths as well.

She sailed through the doors of the hospital wing, the doors banging loudly. She went straight over to the bed Harry had been placed on, but Ron's voice commanded her attention. "Is he okay?" Ron asked, leaning as far as he could without getting up to get a good look at Harry. He blanched slightly when saw the blood matting down Harry's hair and caked on the left side of Harry's face. "Bloody hell!"

"He'll be fine," Hermione lied distractedly. She irrationally fussed with windblown hair for a minute before giving up and fidgeting nervously. She would have thought that after all of the Quidditch injuries she had witnessed Harry sustaining, she would be used to these trips up to hospital. But it never ever got any easier. A tiny--well, not so tiny--irrational part of her wished that she could forbid Harry from ever getting on a broom again. And Ron too for that matter. That thought made Hermione to turn away from Harry's bed to give Ron an anxious glance. She had almost lost both of her best friends this week; she had to make sure that they would all right otherwise she would just stop functioning. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Ron said dismissively. He was craning his neck, trying to get a better look at Harry's exact injury. By this point, Madame Pomfrey had transferred Harry onto the bed next to Ron and was examining the rising nasty welt on Harry's head. "Loony said something about McLaggen cracking him on the head?"

Usually, Hermione loved to talk to Ron, but right now she really wished he would just shut up. Ignoring him, she folded her arms over her chest and bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet. "Is he going to be all right?"

Madame Pomfrey extracted her wand with a grim nod. "Cracked skull." With one swish of the wand, she had wiped Harry's face and hair clean of the clotted blood. She then poked her wand directly into the gash and muttered a spell. The wound sprang closed and Hermione knew that the fracture had been neatly mended. "He'll be as good as new in a day or two. I'll keep him here for observation though." She waved her wand around and around so bandages were conjured out of mid-air and wrapped themselves neatly around Harry's head like a turban. Hermione watched in fascination; she always wished that Hogwarts offered some Healing classes. She knew basic charms, of course, but actual Healing spells would be very useful, especially when your two best friends had a habit of ending up in the hospital wing. "He'll sleep for several more hours," Pomfrey continued briskly as she sheathed her wand. "Call me when he wakes," she ordered Ron.

"Yeah," Ron agreed distractedly. Reassured that Harry was going to make a full recovery, he had returned his attention to Luna's commentary which was clearly audible thanks to the open window next to his bed. Pomfrey looked towards the window with a disapproving frown, but she didn't say a word before returning to her office. Hermione had a feeling that Ron didn't exactly have permission to be listening to the match, but Pomfrey was willing to overlook it this time. She walked over to Harry's bed to take a closer look at him. Even though Madame Pomfrey had just said that he was all right, Harry had taken a very nasty fall. Just like she had with Ron last week, she had to reassure herself that he was all right. Hermione touched Harry's limp hand lightly while listening to his breathing which was mercifully slow, deep, and normal. In fact, if it wasn't for the turban of bandages, he would have looked as though he was enjoying a nice, deep sleep. Her fingers next expertly went to Harry's wrist to check for a pulse.

"Hey, Healer Granger," Ron said loudly from the next bed. Hermione turned expectantly, fingers jumping away from Harry's hand. "You heard Pomfrey, he'll be fine." He had actually turned his attention away from the match to watch her examine Harry with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"I know," Hermione answered. She looked again at Harry's face, this time noticing that one of the lenses of his glasses was slightly cracked. Carefully, she extracted his glasses from his face so she could administer the Repairing Charm. After they were neatly fixed, she set the glasses on his bedside table for safekeeping. Only then did she cross around Harry's bed and over to Ron's. "How're you feeling?"

She half-expected him to make some sort of crack about her asking him the same question in ten minutes, but he only looked pleased that she had asked. "Okay." He sat up a little straighter and craned his neck to get a better look at Harry. "When do you think he'll wake up?"

"Probably not for a while. It was a rather nasty blow." Hermione bit her lip in pained recollection and silently watched Harry sleep for a few moments. She sat on Ron's mattress, facing Harry. "McLaggen was up there trying to tell everyone else what to do instead of doing his job and took Peakes's bat from him to demonstrate 'the proper way' of hitting a Bludger. He hit the Bludger right at Harry's head."

Ron winced sympathetically. "Bloody hell. No wonder Loony panicked."

Hermione just nodded although she hadn't heard a word of Luna's commentary after Harry was hit. All of her attention had shifted to getting down from the stands and up to the hospital wing.

"McLaggen's an idiot," Ron continued. He let out an almost gleeful snicker that made Hermione frown.

"This isn't funny, Ron."

"I know!"

But Ron certainly looked as though he thought it was funny. In fact, he looked as though it was taking all of his willpower to keep from laughing out loud. Hermione gave him a sour look that had succeeded in stopping his hilarity numerous times before. "You're just glad that McLaggen messed up and won't take your place on the team--as if Harry would ever pick McLaggen over you." Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Honestly, do you think Harry would ever do that to you?"

"Well, yeah," Ron answered honestly. "Harry always does the right thing. No matter what. If he thought McLaggen was better, he'd chuck me."

"You won your spot on the team fair and square and Harry wouldn't take that away from you just because someone tried to kill you and you were laid up in hospital--that wouldn't be fair," Hermione retorted.

Her voice was growing testier and testier by the second, but instead of rising to the bait, Ron just sat up straighter in bed. "Cracked skulls heal real easy, Hermione. Both Fred and I have done it before and we were fixed right up. He's fine."

His words and soft, placating tone cut her more deeply than the sternest of words. She gripped the mattress and contemplated her shoes. She had a feeling if she looked at Ron, she would lose it and she had managed to stay remarkably dry-eyed around him all week. "You didn't see him fall," Hermione muttered stubbornly. She supposed that it was harder for her to grasp Harry's inevitable recovery since she had been the one to witness the accident. Besides, as mentioned, Ron grew up in a household full of injuries that could be healed in a blink of an eye. In the Muggle world, if someone had a cracked skull, he would be in the hospital for weeks. It was still difficult for her to believe that such a serious injury could be healed in a few seconds. Especially with all of that blood. Hermione shuddered and looked at the floor. That was the one reason why she never considered going into the Healing profession; she couldn't stand the sight of blood not to mention human or magical creature suffering always made her more than slightly nauseous. That was why she fought for S.P.E.W. so avidly; it made her sick to see house-elves subjected to constant humiliation and degradation.

"Well, he's fallen before and recovered and he'll probably fall again and be okay. It's just another one of those times," Ron said matter-of-factly. Hermione gave him a disdainful look; sometimes Ron could be particularly awful at trying to make her feel better. Most of the time, he was amazing, but sometimes he really was just plain awful. "Come on, Hermione," he urged, rolling his leg so it bumped reassuringly against her backside. "Do you think that Harry is going to be killed by someone like McLaggen?"

No, I think Voldemort is going to be the one do to him in, actually, a spiteful voice hissed at the back of Hermione's mind and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop it from being audible. That was probably the most horrendous thought she had ever had. What was the matter with her?

Stricken, Ron scooted down the bed so he could sit beside her. He knew that look on her face all too well; it made him want to die every time he saw it. "Don't cry, Hermione, come on..." His hand dropped down to give hers a squeeze.

"I'm not, honestly," Hermione said thickly as she lowered her hand from her face. She placed it deliberately on top of Ron's so she could run a finger over the reassuring ridges of his knuckles. He was alive. He was here. "The two of you have to be more careful."

"We will," Ron promised.

Her eyes lifted from the floor to look at Harry again. His chest rose and fell easily. He was here too. Her best friends weren't going anywhere. "Because I can't go through a week like this again."

"I don't fancy doing this again either," Ron agreed wryly.

"I don't want to lose you again," Hermione continued bravely, shifting her position so she could directly at him so he would know that she wasn't only referring to his accident.

Ron's eyes burned just as fiercely as they had last summer when he promised to always stand by her no matter what. "You never did."

Her face twitched as the sob threatened to break through, but Hermione pushed it away. She didn't want this moment ruined by tears. She cried far too much as it was. "Good to know," she said quietly.

The silence that followed was far too intense for both of them so Ron hastily cleared his throat, curled his fingers tighter around Hermione's, and not-so-tactfully changed the subject. "Did I ever tell you Lavender got me for Christmas?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. It seemed very inappropriate to bring up Lavender, but something told Hermione not to be angry. Instead she just shook her head. "No."

Ron shifted even closer to her and lowered his voice. There was a distinctive look of disgust on his face that had nothing to do with the extremely toxic poison he had consumed. "It was a necklace that said--" He paused for dramatic effect. "--'my sweetheart.'"

Hermione just stared at him, not exactly sure what he wanted her to say or why he was abruptly telling her this. She certainly knew what she wanted to do, but it would he really rude to laugh at Ron's girlfriend's Christmas gift to him.

"Well, go on then," Ron said expectantly, looking amazed that she hadn't responded yet. "It's funny. My girlfriend's an idiot. Laugh."

Obediently, Hermione let out a loud chuckle that made Ron smile as well. She brought up a hand to muffle her laughter and not disturb Madame Pomfrey. Did Lavender know Ron at all? How on earth could she possibly think that something like that would be appropriate to give Ron--to give to any boy? Boys didn't ordinarily wear necklaces, especially necklaces that proclaimed my sweetheart. A gold, sparkling, gaudy chain that spelled out my sweetheart.

Another onslaught of laughter seized her and Hermione bent forward, her diaphragm straining for air as she laughed so hard she could scarcely breathe. Why was she ever worried about Lavender taking her place in Ron's heart? If you even had a place in Ron's heart, she reminded herself sternly. She wasn't about to make anymore assumptions. She had just assumed that Ron cared for her the way she cared for him, and look where that had gotten her.

Her amusement subsided quickly at that sobering thought. She had been visiting Ron everyday since his accident, but Lavender had always steadily managed to stay away from their conversations. But now, they couldn't ignore Lavender anymore: after all, she was Ron's girlfriend. Hermione swallowed hard. Ron certainly hadn't been acting like Lavender was his girlfriend any more. She had overheard Lavender complaining to Harry and Parvati that Ron was always asleep when she tried to visit and Hermione had a sneaking feeling that Ron was always pretending to be asleep with Lavender came by in order to avoid her. She also had to admit that during her private visits with Ron, they had been acting like they were more than friends. They held hands, she fussed with his pillows and smoothed his hair, he teased her, they stared into each other eyes. Basically, they were so cute and sweet around each other than everyone else would have been revolted if they weren't so happy that Ron and Hermione were finally speaking to each other again.

She shifted uncomfortably. She was more excited than anyone to have made up with Ron, but she had to admit that it was a bit unusual for them to jump straight from ignoring each other to acting like they were a couple. Granted, it could just be their surroundings; she and Ron had always acted differently around each other in the hospital wing, when their lives had been in danger and they were hurt and badly needed to find comfort in each other. But what would happen when Ron was released and everything went back to normal? Were they just friends again? Or was there the hope of something more? Hermione mashed her fingers nervously into the smooth fabric of her robes. She wouldn't allow herself to dream. She couldn't be hurt again. Everything had to go back to the way things were before this gigantic mess.

She looked up from her lap to find Ron looking at her again in that way--the way that made the marrow of her bones quiver. She looked away before the rapidly rising heat got the best of her and shook her head to clear it. He was acting as though he expected them to get together, but that couldn't happen. She wouldn't allow it. She just didn't want to have to look at his face when she told him.

Hermione burrowed her fingers deeper into his so she could memorize the grooves and texture of his skin. They probably wouldn't be holding hands like this after the imminent discussion. It took a great deal of courage, but Hermione managed to take a deep breath and plunge into the conversation that neither wanted to have but both knew was absolutely vital to preserving their friendship. It felt so odd to be talking about this with Harry asleep in the next bed, but at the same time, it was strangely fitting. No matter what happened between her and Ron, they would always be a trio. Nothing would ever change that. Harry should be here. "Ron, what's going on?"

"What?" Ron said in the same soft, earnest voice she had just used. Hermione always fancied the idea that he only spoke in such a wonderfully sincere voice around her, but that was impossible. He probably used it with Lavender all the time.

Hermione reluctantly slid her hand from the comfort of his and scooted back so she was at the foot of the bed. They needed some distance between them for this conversation. "With us. What is going on with us?"

Ron blanched at the matter-of-fact tone of her voice. He had a feeling that she knew the answer already and he was probably about to give her the wrong one. He too shifted backwards so he was once again leaning against his pillows. "Well--uh-uh--we're friends," Ron stumbled uneasily.

She nodded towards his hand. "So you sit here and hold hands with Harry, do you?"

"You're different," Ron explained immediately. He continued to use that damnably wonderful voice. "You and me have always been different."

He said those words so effortlessly, so easily. It came naturally as breathing to him to insinuate that something very, very special had always been there between them.

It made it even harder for Hermione to nod with understanding and carry on. "I do know." Hermione paused to summon up one more ounce of courage. "But when you act like this around me, Ron--it makes me think that--well, remember when we fought a few weeks ago and I told you about how I had thought--well, I always thought there could be--well-there could be something else. Between us." Ron's face twitched and Hermione had to hastily look away and pick at the lint on his blanket. "And if you don't want that, then that's fine--"

"It doesn't look like you're fine," Ron said sharply, looking at her troubled profile.

Damn. She could never lie to him. Hermione bit her lip and kept her eyes down. She also didn't think she could ever look at him ever again. "Maybe not. But I would be. If that's what you wanted." Nervous tears threatened to spill out of her eyes so Hermione jiggled anxiously on the bed to keep them from escaping, still picking uneasily away at the comforter. "So is that what you want?"

Ron really wasn't as dumb as some people claimed he was, but he often used that image as a defense whenever he didn't want to answer a question. "Want what?"

"Do you want us to be friends again? Or something else?" Hermione asked flat out. She closed her eyes and braced herself; she really had no idea what answer she was about to hear.

"I want us to be friends again."

He said it so simply, so honestly, with all of the sincerity of a young child. It was what he really wanted. He wanted them to be friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Just best friends. Something dull but painful exploded beneath her closed eyelids followed by the unsettling feeling that her insides were falling, falling, falling into some inhospitable abyss, but Hermione didn't let it show on her face. "Good," she got out in a pseudo-normal voice. Being best friends again would be wonderful. Something deep inside of her died at the thought. Yes, being best friends with Ron was wonderful; it was one of the most important relationships of her life. The trouble was that it just wasn't enough for her anymore. She couldn't be best friends with someone whose eyes incited her to finally realize just how alive she really was.

But she would have to learn to be. Near-death experiences always forced people to reevaluate their life; it was basic human nature to finally learn just how important something or someone is when you come close to losing it. After last Saturday, Hermione had learned that no matter how grief-stricken she was, how damaged her pride was, how shattered her heart was, she needed that prat. She needed him in some way in her life. She had hoped it could be something more, but a friendship would be just as fantastic. She and Ron would never be only friends; even as best friends, there was something much more remarkable about their friendship. Perhaps that was why she had hoped and yearned for something more. She couldn't believe love could get any stronger than what she felt for Ron, but perhaps it was. Maybe she and Ron would only be friends and she had thought she was in love with Ron but really she had no idea what love really was and she would just have to be patient. She would know love one day; she would just have to wait for it a little longer.

Hermione quickly slid off Ron's bed. She couldn't stay here any longer. "I should go." She didn't even wait for an answer; she just turned on her heel and tried to run away as fast as she could.

"Well--hey, hang on!" Ron called hastily after her. "Just wait one bloody minute!"

Hermione turned reluctantly, but her reluctance evaporated when she saw that Ron was climbing out of bed to come after her. She strode back towards him to force him back under the covers if necessary. "Ron, no! You can't get out of bed yet!"

"Shhhh!" Ron hissed as he gesticulated frantically to Pomfrey's office. The last thing he wanted was the overbearing nurse to come charging out here to reprimand him. They both froze, listening for a sign that Pomfrey had heard him. When they heard none, he wheeled back to Hermione and dropped his voice to a loud, severe whisper. "Will you just get back here?!"

Nervous pixies took flight in her stomach as she returned to Ron's bedside and stood before him. He only spoke so forcefully whenever he had something really important to say. He still sat on the edge of the bed, poised to spring up if necessary. Hermione considered shoving him back, but decided that it would be best not to touch him just yet. She folded her arms over her chest. "What?"

His Adam's apple bobbed apprehensively as he tried to work out what the hell to say. "Just--stay," he said to her, reaching out to guide her down into the chair next to his bed. Hermione only let him do so because he used the same words as he had right after he woke up last week. "Just give me a bloody minute to think," he requested sharply, looking utterly lost. Hermione glanced at him before quietly lowering her eyes and waiting. It seemed like she would be waiting for this boy her entire life. He considered leaving his hand on her, but drew away after another second's reflection. He leaned forward avidly; it was imperative that she understand what he was trying to tell her. Their eyes unintentionally met and something flickered in the back of the damnably brilliant blue, something Hermione couldn't decipher but it made her heart leap nevertheless. She held her breath and waited.

"I want us to be friends," he repeated somewhat stupidly after a few minutes of silence. Hermione bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling. "But I-I--I won't say that I haven't thought of something more with you. Because I have. But I don't know how to--" He gestured futilely, trying to articulate without words what was in his heart. His ears were turning redder and redder by the second. "I mean, I'm not good at this stuff--and I want to be--with you. You deserve someone who can--and I can't--so I won't try until I'm ready so until then, can we be friends--and-just--put it off?"

"Put it off?" Hermione said faintly, her breathing shallow and uneven as if she was about to start crying or yelling at any moment.

"Just for now," Ron amended hastily. "Just until I figure things out--"

"What exactly do you have to figure out?" Hermione interrupted in honest confusion. "Whether or not you want--"

"No." Ron shook his head vigorously and moved as though he wanted to spring out of the bed and start pacing. With a great deal of self-control, he managed to grab the mattress for dear life and stay seated, looking right at her, and not backing away. It scared the hell out of him to do so, but at the same time, it felt rather amazing, as though he should be looking in her eyes like this all the time. "It's not about what I want--I'm pretty damn sure of what I want--but it's not about that right now." He let out a sigh that rattled the heavens. "I just--it's just--" Ron stumbled again and hesitantly looked straight at her. Hermione remained still, biting her lip. She really had no idea what he was going on about. "You and me have to work," he finally burst out. "I muck up loads of things, but not this--I can't muck this up--so I don't want to--" He waved one hand to embellish his point. "--start--anything until I know--I can do it." Feeling that this should be articulate enough, Ron visibly relaxed and apprehensively awaited her answer.

Hermione found she still couldn't say a word just yet. His confession had been quite bumbling, yes, and he had been barely able to get the words out, but he had done it. And the message behind the words, the heart that shone behind every earnest word, had been perfect. It wasn't the perfect situation, but it was the best thing she could have heard right now. How did he do it? How could he be so thoughtless one minute and then so wonderful the next? How could he be so perfect for her?

Ron finally cleared his throat awkwardly to break the long silence that had elapsed. It was unnerving him that she hadn't said a word or moved a muscle since he had poured his heart out to her. "Is that okay?" Ron asked in a throaty voice.

All Hermione could do was nod.

"And if you want to see McLaggen or Vicky or whoever, I guess--"

"I don't," Hermione finally found her voice and was startled to find how strong and resolute it was when she was melting into a pool of shocked wonder.

He looked almost afraid to press his luck, but Ron Weasley wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. "Then you'd really wait?" The unspoken words for me hung in the air and Ron unconsciously held his breath, his heart drumming faster than a Snitch.

Hermione for once was perfectly calm. She just shrugged one shoulder. "I already have for two years. What's another?"

Ron could only stare at her as if she was the most wondrous creature to grace the face of the planet. She was casually signing her life away for him. He didn't think she would actually do it--he figured that she would rush off to snog Vicky again. But she wasn't. She'd wait forever if she had to for him, a nobody, a loser, another useless Weasley. "You--you're--" He stammered and trailed off, unsure what to say. Hopefully one day he would finally be able to articulate to this girl just how incredible he knew she was. But for now, he would just have to stammer and hope that she knew deep in her heart how much he cared for her.

Hermione hesitated before speaking again, not caring that she was completely changing the subject. Besides, this seemed like the day they were sharing secrets from their time apart and she had been wondering about one certain incident. "Why did you send McLaggen that Dark Mark candy?"

"Because he's a git," Ron answered promptly with a scowl.

She looked at him for a moment before letting out a soft "oh" and looking back down at her lap. Some petty part of her had hoped that he had done what he did to McLaggen for her sake. But as she was trying to be a better person, Hermione just pressed her lips shut and didn't say another word. It really didn't matter why Ron had done it.

Ron's eyes had returned in her direction, burning her through and through. His fingers restlessly picked at the comforter. "I heard about what he did to you."

The petty part of her jumped for joy, but Hermione kept her face devoid of any emotion. "Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Hermione hesitated before speaking again. "From who?"

"Ginny."

Hermione nodded with relief; Ginny had been the only one she told just how far McLaggen had tried to go with her. If he hadn't heard it from Ginny, that meant that McLaggen had to have been talking about the incident which was the last thing Hermione wanted. She had a feeling that she already had quite a reputation in the boys' loos thanks to the Viktor Krum-Harry Potter love triangle fiasco. She glanced over at Ron to find him looking at her from underneath a shock of bright red hair. The glance only lasted a few seconds, but it told Hermione all that she needed to know: he had done it in retribution for what had been done to her. Her breath stopped as he boldly held her gaze. Now she was certain of it; she definitely was in love with Ron. Love couldn't get any stronger than what she felt while looking into his eyes right now.

With a loud bang, the doors to the hospital wing opened and the Gryffindor Chasers exploded into the hospital wing. Ron hastily rolled back under his blankets while Hermione immediately jumped out of her chair, cheeks scarlet, but not even Ginny noticed. Instead, Ginny made a direct beeline to Harry's bed to check on him. Dean and Demelza followed at a slower pace, still complaining wildly about McLaggen at the match. Ron shouted for them to tell him everything that had happened so the two joined Ron at his bed, giving Hermione the opportunity to slip over to Ginny's side.

"He's going to be fine," Hermione told her. "He'll be asleep for a couple more hours."

"What did Pomfrey say?" Ginny asked stoically. Her face was incredibly impassive.

"He fractured his skull," Hermione revealed. Ginny let out a little exhale and caught herself from reaching out to take Harry's hand. "But Madame Pomfrey fixed him up in a heartbeat."

Ginny nodded mutely before forcing herself to go to the foot of Harry's bed, feigning casual concern although she really felt like weeping over his lifeless form and confessing her feelings of undying love for him. "Are you two going to even look at him?" she demanded to Demelza and Dean, her tone unflinchingly sharp.

Dean halted in mid-sentence from his description of the end of the match. Ron took one look at Ginny's face and avoided his eyes with a low whistle. Demelza didn't say a word as she quickly went over to Harry's bed while Dean approached more warily. "'Course," he said easily while slipping his hand into Ginny's. He knew that voice and look on her face all too well. This was usually when he bolted off to play Exploding Snap with Seamus while waiting for the storm to blow off. Ginny Weasley could be as tempestuous as they could come, but she was so wonderful most of the time that he managed to overlook these rare storms of fury. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Ginny answered flatly.

"I knew he would be," Dean said reassuringly. Ginny just rolled her eyes and chose not to respond. Dean looked at Ginny for a moment, trying to get her to smile, before giving up and releasing her hand with a disgruntled grunt.

Demelza, feeling as awkward as Hermione did, turned to her fellow prefect hopefully. "Hermione, you want to head back to the tower?"

"Yes," Hermione said instantly. Harry wouldn't wake until after visiting hours; she would have to wait until morning to see him.

The two girls tried to exit as surreptitiously as possible, but two boys' voices stopped them at the same time. Due to his proximity, Dean's overpowered Ron's at that moment. "Hold up, I'll come with you; I still have to change." He turned back to Ginny; he knew quite well that she had no intention of leaving just yet. "I'll see you later?"

"Yes," Ginny said in the same flat, disinterested voice. She sat down at the chair next to Harry's bed, her arms folded her chest. Hermione looked at her friend with mild concern; something must have happened directly after the match for her to be so openly nasty towards Dean. It was also rather clear that Ginny was harboring some deep feelings for Harry, but for once, it appeared that Ginny didn't care who knew about them. Ginny glanced over at Hermione and quickly sent her a nonverbal message with her eyes: I'll tell you later.

With a discreet nod, Hermione walked past Dean so she could return to Ron's bedside. "I'm sorry, Ron, did you say something?"

Ron opened his mouth, looked over at Ginny and Dean, and thought better of it. "Never mind," he muttered. He glanced again at Hermione who raised her eyebrows at Ginny, silently telling him that he should try to talk to her and find out what was wrong. Ron rolled his eyes, not in the mood to play big brother. Hermione pursued her lips sternly and Ron conceded with another roll of his eyes. Mouthing a thank you, Hermione turned on her heel and followed Dean and Demelza out of the hospital wing, curiously wondering if Ron and she weren't the only couple having an important conversation after today's Quidditch match.

**

Hermione didn't have to wait long to find out the answer to that question; Ginny came barreling into her dormitory about an hour and half later, changed in fresh clothes and with fresh fury in her eyes. "They here?" she asked curtly, looking about for Hermione's roommates.

"No." Hermione placed a ribbon in her book to mark her place and quickly scooted off of the window-seat. Ginny had plopped down on Lavender's trunk which she considered to be her spot as it directly faced Hermione's bed. Hermione obligingly sat on her trunk so the two friends could face each other and talk about all that had happened. "What happened?"

Ginny was so worked up that she didn't even waste time transitioning or making sure Hermione was updated on the latest situation between her and Dean. She just commenced to rant at top speed. "He thought it was funny--he actually thought that Harry getting nailed square in the skull by a Bludger was funny--he told me that I was being stupid for being upset because Harry would be fine and besides, it was funny, wasn't it? And then he laughed. I could actually see him visualizing what had happened in his thick head of his and it made him laugh!" Her voice escalated to a high, furious squeak that led Ginny to take a moment to take a breath and lower her voice. "And I told him that I didn't quite see the humor in that, but maybe if he let me whack a Bludger at his--" She used a euphemism for a particular region of Dean's anatomy that made Hermione flush. "--I could then have a good laugh about it." Ginny folded her arms over her chest with grim satisfaction. "He didn't particularly care for that comment."

"What did he do then?"

The room suddenly became very quiet. "He accused me of being in love with Harry." Ginny finally said. All of the anger had left her voice and her eyes became fixated on a point on the floor. "Which I am," she said very quietly. "And I should have ended things with him right then because it's true and it's not fair to lead him on but I--I didn't. Because even though I don't love him even a little bit, he makes me forget about Harry and I'd rather forget than be lonely."

Ginny gripped the edge of Lavender's trunk and rocked very slowly back and forth in a futile urge to comfort herself. "So I just yelled back at him that he's an idiot and of course I don't have feelings for Harry, that was ages ago and didn't he trust me and that's when Demelza came into the dressing room and asked if we wanted to see Harry." Ginny laughed mirthlessly. "And he just acted like nothing had even happened. Suddenly he was all smiles and oh-so-worried about Harry and I hate that he can just lie like that--if he's mad, he should just be mad instead of putting on some stupid act and being a total git--and I told him that when I came back from hospital so then we got into another row because of course I stayed in the hospital wing for much too long so I must have been snogging Harry while he was unconscious and I informed him in front of the entire common room that he was the biggest bastard I had ever met and now--" She let out a long breath and looked at Hermione appealingly. "Now here I am--what do I do now?"

Hermione blinked with surprise. She had thought that this was a rant session, not an advise session. "Oh." She tucked her hair behind her ears and shifted her position so she was sitting cross-legged on the trunk. "I don't know, Ginny. If you feel this way, maybe you should break up with him."

"Maybe," Ginny said doubtfully. She bent forward, hands clutching her hair in a way that was eerily like Harry. She remained still for several minutes, thinking hard, while Hermione remained silent. Abruptly, Ginny sat up, hands dropping from her head, her eyes wide. "He's never going to go away, is he?" One hand halfway rose to her heart. "He's always going to be in me, isn't he?"

"Probably," Hermione confirmed quietly, knowing quite well that Ginny wasn't talking about Dean.

Ginny swallowed hard and clenched her fists, her entire body rigid. Once again, she was struggling with everything she had to restrain herself. Weasleys only restrained themselves with one thing and that was with expressing their love for that one special person who was born to spend his or her life with you and you alone.

"Do you know how many times I wanted to curse Cho?" Ginny suddenly admitted with a quiet laugh. Apparently, Ron wasn't the only Weasley who never segued. Her fingers twitched with spiteful satisfaction towards her wand. "I only actually did it once or twice or seven times, but everyday she went around with that smug--haughty--look on her face, like she was gloating over what she had bagged, I-I wanted--it scared me how much I wanted to hurt her. I was so jealous that I was ready to do anything--"

"Why didn't you?"

"Because he was happy," Ginny answered automatically. "I could see that she made him happy. And that was enough for me."

Hermione's smile was just a shade bittersweet. On the one hand, she was so blessed to have such a selfless friend as Ginny Weasley. On the other, it just reminded Hermione about how atrociously she had reacted to Ron dating Lavender. "You're really better than us all," Hermione said quietly.

Ginny rolled her eyes and laughed once. "Yeah. Right." Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Ginny continued on with a hard, harsh edge to her voice that was so unlike her. "I should have fought for him. I should have--" Ginny glanced over at Hermione. "I should have done what you did."

"No," Hermione refuted instantly.

"You never settled--you never gave up on him!" Ginny argued.

"But I did," Hermione reminded her gently. "Remember?"

Ginny didn't even blink. "Yes, I remember." She looked Hermione dead in the eye. "You didn't mean it."

Hermione didn't even bother trying to deny it. She didn't think she would give up on Ron if her life depended on it. "I suppose not."

"You kept letting him know that you were interested, you never went off with some bloke just for kicks--McLaggen doesn't count and you know it--you're going to wait forever if you have to for my stupid brother--" Ginny clapped her hands on the top of her head, edgily smoothing her hair as she tried to comprehend the enormity of Hermione's actions. "You won't settle." Her fingers tightened convulsively around her hair. "I settled."

Rising from the bed, Hermione quietly settled herself next to Ginny who was still perched on Lavender's trunk. Ginny had lowered her hands so she could wipe her face angrily and shield some hateful tears from everyone else. "I thought you were being awful to Ron, but I shouldn't have because that's what we do. We play stupid games with each other and pretend to like other people and act like we're having so much fun all the time and while we are having fun, at night, when we lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling and dream, we'll still think about him. And he should know that. He should. Because if I want to hear him say to me, he wants to hear me say it." Ginny quieted momentarily, hunched forward miserably. "So you're still waiting then," Ginny continued. "For him to get a brain, I mean."

"Yes."

"You'll always be waiting, won't you?"

"Yes."

"And I will too, won't I?"

"Yes."

Ginny nodded grimly, accepting her fate. She let out a little laugh. "Well, it's been a hell of a year, hasn't it?"

Hermione echoed the bitter laughter. "Yes."

"You'd think with a war and everything, we'd worry about that, but instead, here we are, crying over stupid boys."

"Well, we're only human," Hermione said softly although she agreed. There were so many other important things she could be doing instead of thinking about Ron, but it seemed like the whole bloody year was about Ronald Bilius Weasley. It drove her mad. She wouldn't have it any other way, but she would be driven insane in the process.

Ginny looked up from the floor, hesitating briefly as her eyes wavered with the hopeless need for reassurance. "Do you think it'll get better?"

An image of Ron's open, sincere face as he made his faltering speech in the hospital flashed in her mind. Hermione smiled as the memory warmed her heart. If there was hope for Ron, there was hope for everybody. "I think it has to," Hermione said with simple optimism.

Ginny sat up and smiled weakly at Hermione, looking a lot more like the vivacious Ginny Weasley who had captured half of the male population's hearts. Hermione returned it and it was at that moment that both girls knew that despite what the next few weeks, months, and years brought them, somehow everything would end up being all right; no matter what happened, they had each other to pull them through the atrocities of being in love with a pair of idiots.