Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix

Hermione didn't think the pounding behind her temples would ever cease to torment her. It was a steady, almost rhythmic pulsating that caused her head to become so heavy that she was forced to lean forward, face buried in her hands, elbows on her knees. She was still sitting on the desk that she had awoken on, but the vast difference was that Ron was no longer holding her tight. She had no idea where Ron was. In fact, she had no idea where anyone was.

Her memory was rather fuzzy on what had occurred ever since she had regained consciousness, but she had the hunch that she should stay put and wait for someone to come retrieve her. Dumbledore had told them that Harry was already back at Hogwarts, thank goodness, but she had thought that she would have returned to school at the same time as Ron and the others. But where were they? They wouldn't leave without her; Ron wouldn't allow them to leave her behind, and they knew where she was, so all she had to do was wait. It was the logical thing to do. She would just wait.

But wait for what?

Hermione lifted her head slightly and somewhat anxiously glanced about the deserted room. You're alone, she told herself. Everything is fine, just relax. Still she had every right to be antsy; she and her friends had just been attacked by Death Eaters. But they were gone; she knew that Moody and the others had gone to round up the captured Death Eaters and herd them off to Azkaban. Dumbledore was around, dealing with Fudge and other matters, and no one would try anything with Dumbledore nearby. She would be perfectly fine. She didn't remember why exactly she had been left quite on her own and injured, but she trusted Ron and the others, so she knew there had to be a good reason for it. She just had to be patient. But despite the rationality of her reasoning, she still had a bad feeling about being left all alone in the Department of Mysteries.

"Hermione?"

She almost toppled off the desk as she whirled around and reached instinctively for her wand at the same moment. She was able to regain her balance, but she really didn't care at the moment about that. Hermione was more concerned that her wand was not in her pocket.

"What are you doing down here?" Percy Weasley of all people asked as he hesitantly approached her.

"Percy?" Hermione whispered, still rather dazed.

"You all right?" He placed a hand on her upper arm, frowning as he looked her up and down. "You look a bit worse for the wear."

"Yes," Hermione responded automatically. Her tongue was still feeling quite heavy in her mouth, and the thoughts in her head therefore had difficulty being expressed orally. "Ron?"

"Ron's here?" Percy looked about. "Where?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, wincing at the pain the gesture brought her. "I don't know where he is."

"But he's here somewhere?" Percy pressed.

"Yes," Hermione was forced to close her eyes as the pain in her skull abruptly intensified. Damn it, Ron, where are you?

"Hey!" Percy shook her roughly. "What's wrong with you?"

"I--I--don't know," Hermione admitted weakly. "Got cursed." She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth. "Ron's hurt too...and Ginny...but I don't know where they are...I don't remember..." Her head drooped farther forward as the reality of the severity of the possible situation they could be in kicked in. How could she have thought that it was plausible for her to be left here on her own? Something must have happened.

Her eyes were still closed, so she wouldn't see the look on Percy's face at her words. His voice remained rather emotionless and detached. "Do you need medical attention?"

"Yes," Hermione now really wished more than anything that Ron could be here so she could bury herself in the comfort of his arms once again. She knew it was terribly selfish of her to be demanding his attention like this, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She had never needed anyone or anything so much in her life, and although that frightened her, she knew it was the truth. Hermione Granger was never one to ignore the truth, and she was absolutely positive that the truth of the situation was that she needed Ron Weasley right now.

"Ok," Percy replied, hand still tight on her arm. She heard him snap his fingers. "I've got a colleague right here who'll take very good care of you."

Percy's tone of voice made Hermione finally open her eyes in incomprehension. Why was he acting so odd? She saw someone sidle in the room out of the corner of her eyes, and in slow motion, her head turned to get a clear view of the man. The long, twisted, pale face of a towering wizard was sneering in her direction. At first Hermione thought she was hallucinating. She had read about post-traumatic stress affecting people in such a way that they thought they saw their attacker everywhere. She was obviously still very shaken up over what had happened, and she was just imagining things. But as she peered at him more intently, and the face that she knew would be plaguing her for ages didn't vanish, the sick sensation in the pit of her stomach rose sharply. She wasn't imaging things.

"No," she said under her breath, scarcely daring to believe it. Not here, not now. The battle was over, she was done fighting for the day, and yet why was a Death Eater walking with menacing deliberateness towards her.

Percy's grip on her grew painfully tight, and she squirmed slightly. Her eyes went back to Percy, thinking it would be somewhat easier to look at Percy right now. But when her eyes rested on the ice blue coldness radiating out from behind Percy's horn-rimmed glasses, she wished she had remained focused on the Death Eater. No. Not now. Not Percy. She was so startled by this turn of events that she instinctively looked back at Dolohov.

"Come on, Mudblood," he mocked. "You didn't really think this was over, did you?"

Hermione was rapidly getting close to a full-out panic attack. "Ron!"

Percy laughed, not his normal laugh that Hermione had heard on occasion, but a deeper, almost maniacal snicker that made her blood turn to water. His free hand gripped her other shoulder and he pulled her towards him. "Ron can't hear you, love," he hissed.

And the full-out panic attack began. Breathing was becoming quite an arduous task, but Hermione couldn't focus on that now. She had to get out of there, and she had to find Ron. He had to be all right, Percy was just trying to scare her, Ron was fine. Hermione repeated those sentences over and over in her mind as she jerked instinctively, and despite the fresh bout of pains the fierce movements caused, struggled. "No! Ron! Help!"

"Shut it!" Percy barked.

"Ron!"

"Weasley, take care of it!" Dolohov ordered, wand out but at his side. He appeared to be testing his fellow Death Eater.

"Professor Lupin! Somebody!!"

"Shut her up!" Dolohov shrieked.

Percy, with a desperate burst of strength, managed to hold Hermione in a vise that was impossible to break free of. She stared up at him, silently pleading for him to help her, and for a split second, Hermione thought that Percy was going to defy his cohort and release her. In that moment, his eyes looked exactly like Ron's, she noticed dimly. But the hardness reappeared in those Weasley blue eyes, and with a growl, Percy threw her off the desk, shoving her backwards as hard as he could. She sailed in the air a few feet and tumbled loudly to the floor.

THUD

A pair of hands seized her under her shoulders and attempted to heft her to her feet. She didn't know how the two Death Eaters had gotten across the room to her so quickly, but that didn't matter. What mattered was getting away, and as quickly as possible. But she didn't have her wand, and she was still very weak from the first curse Dolohov had administered; was he about to perform more magic on her? What spell was he going to use on her? Was there anyway to block the curse without having a wand? Why hadn't anyone come to help her when she had screamed for help? And why were there yards of fabric twisted around her flailing limbs?

"Miss Granger, calm yourself!"

Why was a Death Eater calling her Miss Granger?

Hermione's eyes finally opened, and she blinked rapidly. Madame Pomfrey was yanking the tangled sheets and blankets from away from her while holding her halfway off the floor. Hermione looked around in confusion. She was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. It had only been a dream?

Madame Pomfrey set the bedding on Hermione's bed while helping Hermione to her feet. She brushed off Hermione's pajamas and looked her up and down. "Are you all right, Miss Granger?"

"Fine," Hermione mumbled, running a shaking hand through her tangled hair. "Just a bad dream."

This reassurance didn't stop Madame Pomfrey from sitting Hermione down on the bed, and giving her a quick examination. She frowned while she patted her patient's head. "Let me give you a potion for dreamless sleep, shall I?"

Hermione nodded and used the time the nurse bustled off to retrieve the potion to try to collect herself. She was typically not prone to nightmares, and when they did occur, she had always managed to calm herself in time. But this particular dream had left her still trembling from head to foot, and a nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach that she didn't think would go away anytime soon. To calm herself, she craned her head to try to see around the curtain separating her bed from Ron's. She managed to glimpse his sleeping face, and she smiled in relief. He looked well enough. Her recollection of arriving at Hogwarts was rather vague, but she did remember Ron being rather distraught about something and Madame Pomfrey had had trouble reducing the pain in his arms, making it difficult for him to get to sleep. It also didn't help that he couldn't move; he was forced to sleep flat on his back lest the potion on his arms would become smeared on the sheets and therefore lose its potency. She on the other hand had been so drowsy that she had almost fallen asleep before getting into bed. In fact, she didn't remember getting into bed at all. She barely remembered events after finally breaking down and crying at the Department of Mysteries.

She glanced over at the window, and saw that the sun was coming up. It was morning. Just a bit over twelve hours ago, her main worry had been passing a silly O.W.L. And now...now she had almost died.

A goblet of potion appeared in front of her. Hermione robotically drained the draught as quickly as she could. After all, the only possible cure for the pain besides the presence of Ron Weasley was unconsciousness.

**

She didn't remember how long she slept, but she did remember that she didn't feel much better after opening her eyes again. Her head still felt sluggishly heavy, and moving was quite out of the question due to the spasms of pain flaming in her breastbone. Hermione blinked a few times to clear her vision and gazed about the hospital wing. The curtains separating hers and Ron's beds were obscuring her view of her best friend, but she could tell that he was still asleep due to the light raspy snore she was hearing. Other than that, the wing appeared to be deserted.

But she was incorrect in that assumption; a few minutes later, there was a creak as someone stood up from the chair round the other side of the curtain, and to Hermione's great surprise, Harry Potter emerged from the other side. He looked almost as equally startled to see her awake.

"Hey," he said with slight awkwardness as he settled down on the end of her bed. "How're you feeling?"

"All right," Hermione lied. Harry's eyes were already filled with too much grief and guilt than she could handle right now, and she knew that him hearing about her condition would only make things worse. She hoped it wasn't too obvious that she was gritting her teeth in an attempt to ward off further pain as she struggled into a sitting position. "What about you?"

"Fine," Harry said shortly. He rose to help position the pillows behind her head more comfortably, and get her into a sitting position. He frowned as she was unable to conceal a wince. "You sure you're all right?"

"Yes, of course, Madame Pomfrey..." Hermione hesitated; she actually had not a clue what the nurse had said about her condition. "...said so," she finished after a slight pause.

Harry didn't look that convinced, but he only silently sat down on the edge of her bed again. Hermione watched him closely; he was gripping the edge of the mattress rather tightly, as if he had to hold on to something lest his emotions burst out of him. Hermione had to admit that she wasn't surprised in the least that he felt guilty about their expedition last night, but he shouldn't be going through this much pain. It really wasn't his fault, and it was rather thick of him to believe that it was. Unless there was something else troubling him.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Harry spoke in the same, loud terse tone he used before. "Never better." He let out a sarcastic laugh. "Not stuck in here with you two, am I?"

"No, I guess not," Hermione said slowly. She was still trying to assess Harry's current mental state. She honestly couldn't tell if he wanted to talk about what was troubling him, or if she should just keep her mouth shut. She decided that the best course of action would be to first stick to safe conversation topics. "Ron awake?"

"He was," Harry replied. "He fell asleep a while back."

"How is he?" Hermione asked.

"Good," Harry answered. "Madame Pomfrey smeared some more of that Oblivious Unction on him, and that helped a bit." She instinctively sensed that Harry wanted her to stay quiet for a moment, and she complied while he continued to hold onto the mattress for dear life and gaze off at the blue curtain dividing her from Ron. "Hey, Hermione?" Harry finally spoke, still not looking at her. "I--I..."

Hermione managed to move her arm without too much agony so she could lay her hand on one of Harry's tightly clenched fists. "I know."

A brief, sincere smile of pure relief flickered across Harry's face for a moment before the cloud of gloom reappeared in his unusually vapid eyes. Even though he knew that she didn't blame him for what happened to her, and she suspected that Ron had called him a bloody idiot if he voiced his guilt over Ron's injury, despite that his two best friends undoubtedly didn't feel he was a fault at all for their accidents, something else was really bothering him. Maybe he was thinking about prophesies or something like that, but that wouldn't explain the guilt she could sense Harry enduring at the moment. Something had happened to someone, and Harry felt it was his fault.

"Have you seen the others?" Hermione inquired. Maybe someone's injuries had taken a turn for the worse without her knowledge.

"Yeah," Harry said gruffly. "They're all fine. Madame Pomfrey fixed them right up. Ginny said she'd be up sometime this afternoon."

"Good, then maybe someone will visit me!" Ron snapped jokingly as he pulled aside the curtains. He grinned sleepily at his two best friends. "Really, mate, skiving off just because I fell asleep?"

"I didn't skive off," Harry protested. "I just came to check on Hermione."

"Yeah," Ron rolled his eyes in false disbelief. "Sure, mate."

Another faint smile had reappeared on Harry's exhausted, emotionally drained face, but this one lingered longer than the first. "You weren't exactly the best company."

Ron chuckled appreciatively at Harry's retort as he started to rise out of his bed so he could join the two.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, twisting uncomfortably in the bed so Ron would have to endure the full strength of her glare. "I don't think you should get out of bed." She gestured to the still very vivid welts on his arms. "Those look awful!"

"The brains didn't attack my feet," Ron argued. "I can walk!" He continued to proceed to get to his feet.

"Ron!" Hermione repeated, unconsciously sitting bolt-right in bed in her anxiety. She really didn't think it was a good idea for Ron to get out of bed, but in her worry, she completely forgot about the not moving policy she had adopted. The breath left her body as she silently flinched as a fresh, sharp stab of pain exploded in her chest. Her hand quickly went to her ribs in an attempt to dissipate the pain. Harry instinctively put his hand on her shoulder as he peered at her worriedly while Ron froze at the sight of Hermione keeling over in agony. He looked rather conflicted as he weighed his options before deciding to drop back down on the bed again, as if he hoped that by obeying to her requests, he'd make the pain go away.

"You all right?" Harry asked in a low voice. "Should I go get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, no," The pain was receding as quickly as it had flared up and Hermione, with Harry's help, was able to lean back against the pillows. Ron was watching the two of them with a variety of emotions written conflictingly across his freckled face. "I'm better now," Hermione reassured them. "Honestly. I just moved too quickly, that's all."

Harry nodded as he dropped his hand away from her shoulder, but not without a parting, quick squeeze. Hermione smiled gratefully; see, Harry, sometimes it is easy to comfort a girl. Ron now looked a bit confused as he settled back into his bed, but for once, he didn't say a word. A long silence permeated the room for several minutes as the three friends collected their thoughts. Hermione honestly didn't know what to say, or how to even begin. There was just so much to talk about. But the thing that Hermione really wanted to discuss first was why Harry felt so horrible about what had happened at the Ministry. Well, it was understandable that he would feel so awfully about it, but there had to be a reason for this extreme guilt. She was about to ask Harry what was troubling him when she felt Ron's eyes boring into her. She glanced over and found his blue eyes wide with warning. A slight shake of his head confirmed the sentiment; he didn't want her to talk about it yet. This was not surprising; Ron hated talking about feelings and emotions and that sort of thing, but they needed to talk about this sometime and this was as good of a time as any. She wanted to argue with him over the issue, but he just shook his head again in such a way that Hermione closed her mouth. She was going to yield to Ron's judgment on this, but he better pray that he was right otherwise she would have words with him, and it wouldn't be pleasant.

Lucky for Ron, this was one of the few situations that he was actually right. Harry left a short time later, and Ron instantly rounded on her.

"We can't talk to him about it now!"

"Why?" Hermione demanded. "Now is as good of a time as any!"

"It just happened, Hermione!" Ron argued. "He's not ready!"

"Is he ever really going to be ready?" Hermione countered.

"Hermione!"

"Look, Ron, I understand that Harry is upset about what happened last night, and I am too, and I know that talking about it will only help matters!"

"Hermione," Ron was staring at her like she was the most insensitive human being on the planet, which was rather ironic considering that she often thought that he was the reigning king of insensitivity. "The man died yesterday and you want to make Harry talk about it now?"

Hermione stared at Ron for a second with wide, shocked eyes. "Did you say died?"

Ron's mouth opened up and down for a few seconds before closing his eyes and groaning. "Shit, she said you may not remember certain things about last night."

"Who?" Hermione sat up again and forced herself not to flinch with pain; it took up too much time. "Ron, what are you going on about?"

Ron's face had drained of color and he ran his fingers through his hair in irritation at himself. With a deep breath, he swung his legs over the side of his bed so he could face her directly. "Hermione," Ron swallowed hard and had to look at the ground before continuing on. "Sirius is dead."

There was a long stunned silence. "What?" Hermione finally got out weakly.

"Neville told us about it while Madame Pomfrey was fixing up Ginny's leg," Ron explained. "Do you remember?"

"No," Hermione said in a daze. "I don't..."

"Well, Neville saw the whole thing," Ron explained. "He said that that woman who was egging Harry on when we were in the room with the prophesies and everything, the one who wanted to torture Ginny," Ron's voice took on an uncharacteristic hardness as he continued on. "She and Sirius dueled, and he fell through that creepy veil thing we saw in that one room, and he was gone."

Hermione waited for him to continue, but she was surprised to find that the story was abruptly finished. "Just like that, he was gone?" she demanded in disbelief. Ron shrugged painfully, and Hermione bit her lip as she fought back tears. "No, it can't be, Neville got mixed up..."

"No, he didn't," Ron said firmly. "Dumbledore was in here this morning while you were still asleep. He told us the same thing."

"No!" Hermione burst out. "Not Sirius!"

"I know," Ron agreed unhappily.

Hermione stared down at her blanket with a mixture of shock, grief, and anger. Sirius Black was one of the most dynamic presences she had ever known; he was just so alive. Whenever he entered a room, he just exuded sheer vitality and strength, except of course when he felt moody or sulky about something. Sirius was so full of life that Hermione found it hard to comprehend the idea that someone who was so alive could be killed just like that. She knew Sirius rather well considering that she knew Ron rather well, and she had a fairly good idea that Sirius was being reckless and had gotten cocky, and his actions had this time had consequences. Sirius had spent his entire life risking his life and breaking the rules, and it had finally caught up with him. He had finally learned his lesson.

Once again, Hermione was with difficulty struggling not to start crying. She bit the inside of her lip to keep the sobs from escaping through her lips, and when that gesture was not enough, she brought up her hand up in order to stifle her tears. It didn't help matters that she already felt awful and achy, and her mind was not functioning at its normal, top-speed capability. She was already in so much pain and confusion, and she had foolishly thought that things would only get better. But they had only gotten worse, irrevocably worse. Sirius was gone, and there was no magic in the world that could bring him back.

Harry's deadened green eyes flashed within her mind, causing her to silently gasp into her palm. Oh, Harry, she thought with an overwhelming rush of sympathetic agony. No wonder he looked like death warmed over; he had just witnessed another death, and not just any death. The father he had never had had just died. Harry had never voiced how important Sirius was in his life, but any fool could see the connection between the two. All you had to do was just look at the way Harry and Sirius interacted to know that something was very special about their relationship. Well, Hermione remembered with another twist of pain, no one could look at Harry and Sirius' interaction any longer. She closed her eyes briefly. She couldn't cry now; it would undoubtedly be most painful and wouldn't aid her already precarious health a single bit. She had to stay strong for Ron, for Harry, for everyone. But that didn't stop the tears from wanting to leak out.

Five long, thick fingers tentatively entwined themselves around her hand that was resting limply on her thigh. A rush of relieving security washed over her, and she inhaled sharply as Ron's fingers squeezed hers. She didn't trust herself to look at him right now, so she remained focused on the two hands clutching each other for dear life. Ron had just told her in his own way that he was going through just as much pain as her, that he was just as afraid as her, but he was just for once keeping it bottled up. He wasn't going to let anyone see how much he hurt, but that didn't mean the pain wasn't there. Hermione squeezed his hand back, and gave a watery smile when she realized how good her hand looked in Ron's and how right it felt to have his strong grip rescuing her from a whirlwind of depression and tears. It still amazed her that this boy, this insensitive, thick, obnoxiously charming git, had somehow over the past five years become her savior, her true life knight in shining armor. Harry Potter wasn't the hero of her life story; Ron Weasley was.

She wanted to stay holding hands forever, but she knew that wasn't possible. It was only a matter of time before Ron's presence either provoked tears or confessions, and it wasn't the time for either of them. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand free and tried to sidle down back under the covers. "I'm tired, Ron," she said flatly. There was a slight quiver to her voice, but she didn't think Ron caught it.

"Okay," Ron said gently. "You can go to sleep in a minute, but I better get Madame Pomfrey to give you your potions."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Potions? I have to take more than one?"

"Yeah," Ron replied heavily as he got to his feet. "Ten, I think."

"Ten?" Hermione repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah," Ron was now avoiding her eyes, and his voice was becoming rather shaky. "You were pretty bad off, Hermione."

Her heart just about broke when she managed to catch a glimpse at his grief-stricken face. "Ron," Hermione said softly, reaching for his hand again instinctively. "I'm fine, honestly."

"I better go get her," Ron muttered as he shuffled as fast as he could out towards the nurse's office. Hermione's groping hand grasped only air, and she sighed and then flinched at the fresh bout of pain in her chest.

"I'm fine," she whispered again, in an attempt to reassure herself as well. She had a sinking feeling that things were never going to be just fine ever again.

**

THUD

Hermione cursed under her breath. She couldn't swear as loudly as she would have liked considering that it was probably well past midnight and also the fact that it was impossible to raise her voice. It simply hurt too much to speak in a normal tone of voice. She gritted her teeth tightly as she slowly brought her hand to her ribs. She knew she should try to get back into her bed, but it wasn't possible to move just yet. Her other free hand went to her forehead and she couldn't suppress a low groan from escaping. You'd think that Hermione would be used waking up on the floor after yet another nightmare, but even after three nights of repeatedly falling out of her bed, each fall was equally surprising and painful.

"Hermione?" Ron asked drowsily.

"I'm fine, Ron," Hermione answered instantly. She hoped that her voice sounded as even and casual as possible. "Just go back to sleep."

A creak of his mattress told her that Ron wasn't heeding her request. "Did you fall out of bed again?"

"Just go to bed, Ron," Hermione said in response. She was able to push herself up with her arms, but her legs didn't seem to want to go anywhere. In fact, her legs felt rather tightly pinned. It was probably her bedding once again, but she wanted to make sure. She started to twist her head over her shoulder so she could see what was trapping her legs, but had to stop to wince once again. Even three days after the accident, it still hurt to perform simple motions, although Hermione had to admit that the pain had notably receded. Still, she had to pause for a moment to catch her breath. It was in this moment that someone starting to pull on her legs. Still rather shaken from the nightmare, Hermione automatically kicked her legs as much as possible.

"Damn it, Hermione!" Ron protested as he ducked her flailing foot. "Would you hold still?"

"Sorry," Hermione stopped kicking and managed to roll over so she could see what Ron was up to. He was yanking away the sheets that had twisted themselves around her legs. Ron tossed them back on her bed while Hermione smoothed back her sweat-soaked hair from her face.

"You all right?" Ron asked as he sat wearily on the edge of her bed. Although only his arms appeared to be severely injured, walking tired Ron out quite easily. Hermione nodded and sat up carefully before leaning against the bed next to Ron while still seated on the floor. "Do you want to try to stand yet?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head, not wanting to risk getting to her feet just yet. She hadn't been allowed to even attempt walking just yet, although Madame Pomfrey had said that tomorrow would be the big day, and if all went well, she'd be released soon after that.

They sat silently for a few minutes as Hermione waited for the pain to dissipate and then hesitated, wondering if this was the proper time to ask something she had been wondering for the past three days. "Ron?"

"Hmmm?"

"What happened to you that night?"

Ron didn't say anything for a moment before laughing hollowly. "What are you talking about, you know what happened. The brains attacked me."

"Ron," Hermione said patiently, "what happened after we were separated?"

Ron sighed.

"Please," Hermione whispered.

"If I tell you, will you tell me what happened to you?"

Hermione hesitated. "Yes."

"You go first," Ron insisted stubbornly.

She swallowed hard before plunging ahead. "Well, after we smashed all of the glass, Harry managed to grab me and drag me out of the room and Neville followed, and wait a minute," Hermione frowned as she glared up at her best friend. "You already know this, I heard Harry tell you." Ron's ears were rather red, so Hermione knew that she was correct. "Why don't you want to tell me, Ron?"

"It's not that I don't want to tell you!" Ron protested out of habit. Hermione didn't retort as she typically would have, and used the power of silence to her advantage. Ron eventually sighed and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"When we smashed the glass, I just took off," Ron began. "I saw that Harry had you, and I knew that he'd keep an eye on you, so I yelled for Ginny to follow me, and I thought I saw Harry run out of the room, so I followed, but I reckon I ended up running ahead of him, and took a wrong turn." Ron leaned back, avoiding Hermione's gaze and staring at the ceiling. "We ended up in this dark room that had all these planets floating in the air. I realized that you and Harry and Neville weren't with us, and Luna told me not to, but I opened the door anyway to see if you were out in the hallway. And that's when some of those Death Eaters saw me." Hermione involuntarily gasped. "I slammed the door and tried to remember that spell you had used, but there wasn't any time, and Ginny and Luna had already started running towards the door on the other side of the room, so I just followed them. When we got towards the center of the room, we got sucked up into the air and floated around the planets." Ron smiled ruefully. "It actually helped a bit; it took those Death Eaters a few minutes to notice us. But one of them went to check the other door, and got pulled up in the air too, so they spotted us. Luna was sort of hidden behind Pluto, and I was higher up in the air, so they went straight for Ginny." Ron chuckled softly. "Ginny of course started sending curses at them, which only got them even angrier, and while she was trying to float up higher to get away from them, that's when the one grabbed her ankle. He yanked, and kind of twisted his wrist at the same time, and that's when her ankle broke." Ron's face was now tight with suppressed rage as he recalled the Death Eater assaulting his little sister. "Ginny was still floating, and he was going after her again, so I managed to get to him first and grab him. I got him around the shoulders, I managed to get him farther away from Ginny, but he still had his wand." Ron frowned. "I didn't hear the curse he used, because the other three Death Eaters that followed us in the room were still on the floor and shooting up spells at us. All I remember is feeling really dizzy and sick all of a sudden, and I hit my head on the ceiling, and I must have blacked out for a minute, because the next thing I remember, I was on the floor of the planetarium. The other Death Eaters were gone; Ginny and Luna had managed to take care of them; pieces of Pluto were floating around so I reckon Ginny or Luna blew it up to distract them, and were trying to get back onto the ground. Luna had to help Ginny along, and for some reason, it was really funny. I started to laugh, and Ginny looked like she was about to cry, and I knew it wasn't funny because she was in so much pain, but I just kept laughing, but the odd thing was that I wanted to stop laughing because it hurt my stomach so much, but I couldn't." Ron had to pause for a moment, and Hermione instinctively rested the side of her head against Ron's leg to indicate her support. "That's when I started to cough and blood came out, and I was worried about that, and Ginny, and you, and Harry, but I just kept on laughing." Unusual bitterness was now evident in Ron's voice. "Ginny tried to get me to stop, but nothing worked, and she could hardly walk by herself, so Luna finally got Ginny to the floor and helped her walk, and got me to follow them. I--I don't know what was wrong with me," Ron admitted. "But anyway, Luna overheard someone yelling that they had found Harry, so we followed them, and that's when we found Harry and the rest of you." Ron swallowed hard, and paled slightly. "I looked at you, and you--you were so pale and you weren't moving and I couldn't tell if you were breathing or not, and I remember thinking that you had to be okay, because you were with Harry and Harry would never let anything happen to you, but he didn't even look at you because by then my legs felt all funny and limp and I couldn't walk very well, so he had to help me, and the Death Eaters came back, and I forgot about you for a while, because I saw those brains and I remembered you talking about them, and I thought I would be fun if I could control them or something and impress you, and I used a Summoning charm, and they came, and..." Ron shoved up his sleeves to reveal the still bright scars on his arms. Hermione wanted to rub her hands over them in a desperate effort to quell the pain, but managed to restrain herself. "I don't remember how I got away," Ron continued after a pause. "I just remember that it hurt like nothing I had ever felt before. I didn't know pain like that was possible. It was--it was like not only did it physically hurt, but my very being ached afterwards." Hermione lifted her head away from the comfort of Ron's thigh so she could stare wide-eyed at her friend. He was still staring down at the wounds. "I have nightmares too, you know."

"What about?" Hermione asked quietly.

"People I don't know," Ron replied with a perplexed frown. "Place I've never seen, but at the same time I know them somehow. When I wake up, I don't remember who they are, but in the dream, I know who they are." Ron hesitated again. "And then there are the ones about you and Harry."

"What about me and Harry?"

"About what could have happened," Ron explained. "What if Dolohov had his voice when he attacked you. What if Bellatrix hadn't stopped with killing Sirius. What if..." Ron trailed off and shrugged. He swallowed hard and stared down once again at his wounds and began to absent-mindedly trace a finger along the thick welts marring his skin. Hermione bit her lip as she watched him; she knew quite well that he didn't go into greater detail about his nightmares for the same reason she avoided the topic. It was painful enough to endure the dream itself: talking about it didn't help at all. But Ron had just opened up to her, so she should reciprocate.

"I have those too," she admitted. She shifted her position on the floor so she could take a hold of Ron's wrist to stop him from possibly worsening his injuries. Ron complied, but he didn't raise his eyes from his arms, and she stared down at the wounds too. Despite the copious amounts of medication Madame Pomfrey had heaped onto the welts, they were still quite horrid looking. It hurt Hermione just to look at them. She continued to hold onto Ron's wrist as she kept talking. "There is another one too. I'm back in the Department of Mysteries, and waiting for you or someone to tell me where to go, and then Percy shows up. He tells me that he'll get someone to take care of me, and then Dolohov comes in and leers at me and I know that he wants to hurt me again, and I don't have my wand, and no one is there to help me, so I yell for help, but no one comes, and I'm all alone," Her voice cracked a bit, and she paused once again.

"By the way, in case I forgot to tell you, I do plan on killing Dolohov for you," Ron said with his usual sarcasm, and a slight smile on his face to lighten the mood, but Hermione knew he was not joking. "Seriously," Ron scooted forward on the bed slightly so he could lean towards her. "I figure if I could just somehow get his wand away, and get him around the legs and knock him down, I should be able to take him." The grin widened as he straightened up to indicate his physique. "Don't you think?"

Hermione laughed for the first time in what seemed like years, and Ron joined in with relief. Their laughter subsided as they met eyes for a few moments, and Hermione's stomach jolted in that hormonal-instigated way that she loved and hated at the same time.

"Hey, watch this," Ron said abruptly. He leaned to the side, away from Hermione, and clicked his tongue loudly.

"Huh? What? Who?" Dolores Umbridge burst out incoherently as she looked about wildly. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Umbridge had been brought into the hospital wing the day after she had been admitted; apparently, Dumbledore had handled the centaurs and rescued the DADA professor. She had been lying in bed for the past two days without saying a word to anyone and looking rather distraught and disheveled. Hermione knew it was awful to derive pleasure from Umbridge's state, but well, she did.

"Ron," Hermione said reproachfully out of pure habit.

"Hey, you sleep all the time, I have to amuse myself somehow," Ron retorted teasingly. Hermione smiled as she rested her head once again against Ron's knee, and after a long moment of silence, Ron absent-mindedly started playing with some of her long strands of frizzy hair. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation before feeling that she had to break the silence.

"Well, we should be released soon," Hermione said. "Madame Pomfrey said maybe I could be released as early as the day after tomorrow." She looked up at Ron. "When did she say you could leave?"

"Soon," Ron answered quickly as he slowly rose to his feet. "Speaking of which, if you want to try walking tomorrow, you better get some sleep."

"I suppose," Hermione didn't want Ron to leave in all actuality, but she knew that he was right. Without even asking, Ron stooped down to help Hermione into a standing position, and sat her back down on her bed. She managed to bring her legs into the bed without too much pain, and smiled wanly at him while she snuggled under the blanket. "Good night," she said quietly.

"Night," Ron returned. He looked distinctly uncomfortable and confused as he raked a hand through his hair and shuffled back towards his bed. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She would have thought that after everything that had happened that petty things such as love wouldn't matter anymore. But now she was correct in knowing that now love was mattered more than ever now. She needed Ron more than ever.

If she only had the courage to tell him the truth.