Hermione Granger and the Time of Troubles

"Have you ever heard of an empath?"

"An empath?" Ginny Weasley repeated as she sat on the edge of Hermione's hospital bed. It was late afternoon and she and Harry had just arrived to check on Hermione's condition. Ginny had to admit that she had been quite shocked to hear about Hermione's accident, but undoubtedly the worst part about it was Harry's face when he had told her. She didn't know how bad Hermione's injuries were, but Harry's face had told her enough--he had thought for a minute that he lost her. Like he'd lost Ron. Not now, Ginny reminded herself firmly. This is about Hermione.

Hermione, however, appeared to be doing quite well. Harry had stopped by earlier that afternoon to give Hermione some books, but he hadn't said a word about how she was doing. But when Ginny had walked into the infirmary and spotted her friend, if she hadn't known better, she would have guessed that Hermione wasn't hurt at all. She was sitting crossed-legged on her bed, not even under blankets or wearing pajamas. She was fully dressed, fully alert, and had been fully engrossed in a heavy book when Ginny and Harry had arrived. Ginny had immediately asked her if she was all right, and her response had been to ask about empaths. Although it was completely random, Ginny didn't care; it proved to her that Hermione was going to be just fine. "Sure, those are people who can sense other's emotions, right?"

"Right," Hermione brushed some of hair out of her face before leaning forward to consult the huge book on her lap. Ginny had surmised the abilities of an empath quite concisely so Hermione quickly looked up at her friend to move on. "Ginny, is there a history of empathy in your family?"

Ginny nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, some more than others, but basically all of us have it on some level. My Uncle Bilius was probably the strongest one; he could sense us in trouble for miles."

"Why are you embarrassed?" Harry asked, hands gripping the bar at the foot of Hermione's bed. He was watching Ginny with a great deal of curiosity. "Sounds like a good power to me."

"Because it's not exactly a rare trait," Ginny explained. "About ninety percent of all wizards have empathic abilities on some level. Hell, even a Muggle can be an empath," She quickly shot Hermione an apologetic look. "No offense." Hermione shook her head to indicate that she was not insulted, but she did wince at the movement. Bloody headache. "Most magical people actually look down on magical empaths because they think if a Muggle could do it, then..." she trailed off with a shrug.

"Muggles can be empaths," Hermione interjected, skimming the text once again. "But magical empaths are much more powerful," She considered Ginny for a moment. "Ginny, do you have any empathic abilities?"

Ginny now looked even more uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, every now and then," she confessed. "Just for really strong emotions from certain people, like Mum or Dad or someone else I really care about," she said the words very fast and they were perfectly innocent, but the flush of her cheeks was a dead giveaway that one of those certain people she really cared about was less than five feet away from her. Lucky for Ginny, he was a typical, clueless boy, so she hadn't honestly given anything away.

"Has Ron mentioned anything about being an empath?"

"Ron?" Ginny frowned as she thought. "You know, I think he's the only one who hasn't said anything about it. All of us every once and a while get the flashes, but I don't remember him ever having that."

"What is this all about, Hermione?" Harry put in.

Hermione closed the book and looked up at her friends. "I think Ron's an empath. And I don't think he's just any empath--I think he's a fairly powerful one."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because something odd happened earlier today," Hermione avoided her friends' eyes. "I felt Ron today--I know this sounds crazy," Hermione added hurriedly at the shocked and skeptical looks on Ginny and Harry's faces. "But hear me out--when I hit my head, I was a bit out of it but I know that I felt him. He was there, I don't where, but I'm telling you that he was there. He was--he was really scared and he was in pain," Hermione choked slightly on those words, "But I'm telling you he's alive; I know it."

"What does this have to do with the empath," Ginny asked quietly after a moment.

"Because I of course wanted an explanation for why this connection or link between Ron and me occurred, and that's when I found the information on the empaths, and--it certainly explains some things."

"Like what?" Ginny inquired.

Hermione shifted her position. She had been thinking about Ron the entire afternoon and she had been able to come with several incidents. She didn't know why she hadn't figured this out before--the more she thought about it, the more obvious it seemed to be. "This one night," Hermione explained, "I went flying," she ignored Harry's shocked look. "I was feeling a bit rebellious and wanted to do something rather crazy, I suppose. It was rather late at night--the night Fred and George set those fireworks off to infuriate Umbridge?" Ginny and Harry nodded soundlessly. "Anyway, I took one of the school brooms and flew around the pitch for a bit. And one of the fireworks exploded rather close to me and I slipped. I was terrified, I thought I was going to fall right off, and I would have too if hadn't already been holding on for dear life so I was able to catch myself before it was too late. I headed back into the castle right afterwards and I met Ron on the way. He had told me that he had been watching the fireworks and seen me flying and came out to check on me, but there was no way that he would be able to tell it was me from that distance, let alone know that I was afraid. But he knew somehow.

"And at the beginning of the term, I had had a row with my parents right before I got on the train but I didn't want anyone to know anything about it--I thought I was being silly to be so shook up and I thought I hid it so well, but Ron knew. He took me aside, made me tell him, and made everything alright again. He knew.

"When he heard you scream on Saturday, Ginny, he knew at once it was you. You were in the woods, he was in the village--how on earth did he know that it was you? That scream could have been anyone, but he knew at once it was you.

"In the third task, Harry, we never told you, but Ron knew you were alive. We didn't know what had happened--we thought you had been killed, but Ron knew right away that you weren't dead. He knew you were scared and hurt and all, but he said straight off that you were alive. He was very adamant about that--it never was a possibility that you had been killed.

"He's always known about my nightmares, he's always known how much Malfoy upsets me whenever he calls me names and that's why he always jumps to my defense, and for someone who used to be so terrified whenever I cried on his shoulder, he always, always knows what to do to set things right."

Hermione's eyes were welling up once again. She hated that she kept falling apart like this, but she couldn't help herself. This was only reminding herself how wonderful Ron was. Ginny was also tearing up and Harry's face was so firmly stoic that Hermione knew that he was fighting his own emotions.

"And what I felt this morning wasn't the first time it had happened. It happened on Saturday," Hermione's voice was now barely audible. "After I got hit with the Impediment Curse, I was thinking about Ron, and it happened then too. I could feel him--he was groggy and confused and very worried but I knew that he was alright. I ignored it because I thought I was hallucinating from hitting that tree and then I forgot all about with everything that happened afterwards. But it was the same thing. It's the only explanation for all of this."

"Wouldn't that make you the empath?" Harry finally asked after a long silence.

Hermione let out a huge breath of relief. He believed her. "Not necessarily," She tapped the cover of the book. "I've read this as thoroughly as I could and it includes a list of typical characteristics of an empath, and Ron fits the bill, much more so than I. He's empathetic, moody, protective on his loved ones. Besides," she paused slightly, "I think I know why I can sense him too.

"Ginny, you were there that night when Ron had too much firewhisky and you heard what he said." Ginny's eyes went wide and she nodded. "He said that he would always know what I was thinking because I was always right here," Hermione's hand rested over her aching heart, wishing that it was Ron's hand. "And he said he would always know me, just like I could always know him."

"Could?" Harry repeated.

Hermione nodded. "That insinuates that Ron knew about these abilities and knew that they could be able to reverse them--what if he knew he had these powers and he also knew that the people he was sensing could reverse the sensation and be able to sense him too?"

"If that is true, would you be able to tell us where he is?" Harry asked tersely, shoulders rigid with anticipation.

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "The book doesn't mention anything about an empath and his subject being able to communicate with each other--that's why I think that Ron's empathic gift is a rare one. Although I don't think his power stems entirely from innate ability." Harry and Ginny looked at her quizzically, and Hermione forged ahead into the next portion of her theory. "I think it's the scars."

Harry sucked in a long breath as his hand inadvertently went to his trademark scar on his forehead. "Scars can be a very useful thing," he said quietly, echoing the words Dumbledore had said to him years ago.

"I think the brains attacking him did something to him--I'm not sure exactly what," Hermione continued. "Madame Pomfrey said that thoughts could be more damaging than any weapon and I know that Ron was having nightmares about people he didn't know. I'm assuming that those people he's been dreaming about were the people whose brains were in the tank at the Ministry."

"And that makes him a stronger empath?"

"If he can start sensing the past pain of people he never even knew, it's going to be a lot easier for him to feel the emotions of the people closest to him. Besides, it might be a defense mechanism of some sorts; knowing Ron, he would rather focus on the people he cares about than be tormented with past memories that he can do nothing to rectify. So instead of dwelling on his bad dreams, he channels his energy onto us. And the more you practice any sort of magic, the better you get."

"So--so," Harry's voice cracked at the question he wanted the most desperately to ask, but he was most afraid to hear the answer, "can we use this to bring him home?"

Hermione smiled. "We're sure going to try."

**

"Damn it, Hermione, try harder!"

"I'm trying as hard as I can!" Hermione snapped as she threw her hands away from her face so she could glare at Harry. She had been bent double on Ron's bed, eyes shut, hands covering her face, and attempting desperately to find Ron with the power of her mind. Harry swore loudly and slammed an irate fist against one of the bedposts of his bed. She really didn't blame Harry for being so frustrated; she was rather discouraged herself. They had been trying to contact Ron for three whole days now, only stopping when she had to go to class or when he had to serve detention, and with no success. They had reasoned that Hermione would be the best possible source of connection although Harry and Ginny were also making less frequent attempts. The problem was that there were no books, no articles, not a single word written about an empath being able to communicate with another person. They had no actual proof that this plan was even possible, but ever since Hermione had hypothesized its possibility, Harry and Ginny had been convinced that this was the best idea to bring Ron home. They were putting all of their ingredients in one cauldron, and Hermione was secretly petrified that it wasn't going to work. She had never devoted herself to a task without any scholarly references or research to back her up, so she was now flying completely solo.

"No, you're not!" Harry accused. "You could do it when you were unconscious, why can't you do it now!"

"It's more complicated than that," Hermione was trying not to let her temper get the best of her; usually Ron was the only one who could rile her up so readily. But she was functioning on a serious lack of sleep, her nerves were shot to hell, and if Harry said one more single word about it...

"Do you even care at all that he's gone?" Harry shouted.

Hermione slowly got to her feet, eyes blazing hellfire, fists clenched, and the air around her almost crackled with magical energy. She hadn't used wandless magic since she was ten, when she had become so angry at William McKenzie, the neighborhood bully, for purposely pouring cranberry juice all over her clothes and books and then laughing about it with his friends that he had ended up wedged headfirst in a full garbage bin, legs flailing helplessly in the air. But now she was pretty bloody close.

"Have you ever loved somebody, Harry?" Her voice was surprisingly steady and flat. "Because I used to think you loved me and Ron, but now I'm not so sure because if you did, you would never say something like that to me. You clearly don't understand what love is, which is a pity considering that you're alive today because of your mum's love."

"Don't," Harry protested in a deadly serious, barely audible voice.

Hermione bit her lip before forging on--this may not be the best time, but it had to be said. "I love you, Harry," she said simply. "You're my best friend, and I will always love you. And although he's never said it because he's too embarrassed, I know that Ron loves you too. Professor Lupin loves you, Dumbledore loves you, Hagrid loves you, Ginny loves you, Mrs. Weasley loves you, all of the Weasleys love you, and Sirius and your parents did too,"

Harry paced away from her, hands on the sides of his head as if he was trying to muffle the professions of love. "But you don't want to hear that, do you?" Hermione said in the same flat tone. "You don't think you deserve our love so you shut us all out. You don't even really love yourself, and that's why I don't think you've ever really loved anyone and until you do, you will never know what it's like.

"You'll never love someone so much that it turns you inside out and you feel raw and exposed because he can see right through you, but you really don't care because he's seen every single part of you, and he likes every bit of it. His touch can make you melt and want to cry, but you don't want him to stop because at the same time, it's never felt so good. He makes you complete, you're not whole when he's gone because he's become a part of you, he's in me, always, I can't get him out of my head, and I don't want to. All I want in my life is him.

Hermione shook her head slightly when she realized that she had unintentionally slipped into first-person. "If someone you love leaves you," she couldn't stop her voice from trembling now, "all you want to do is curl up in a ball, close your eyes, and pray that it was a dream and he'll come back at any moment and make everything all right. But that won't bring him back. So you go on with life. You live because you know that's what he wants you to do, and you fight like hell to bring him home. So I'm going to do everything I can to accomplish that, and you yelling at me is not making things easy on me, so instead of accusing me of not caring, why don't you open up to someone for once in your life and learn about what love really is, and then you'll be able to fathom what I've been going through."

Her voice was now steadily becoming louder and more passionate. "Just because my name isn't on the prophesy doesn't mean I'm not affected by it, Harry; we all are! So instead of being your typical, selfish, self-deprecating self, I suggest you use what strengths you do have, such as us, and then you'll be able to take him on and win! We're here for you, Harry, so why don't you use us!"

Hermione couldn't shout anymore; her voice wouldn't yell any louder. She sank back down on the edge of Ron's bed, infinitely weary. She folded her arms over her knees and buried her forehead into her forearms. The only sounds for a long time were the sounds of hers and Harry's ragged breaths

When Harry finally spoke, his voice was right in front of her. "I have to go to detention," he said awkwardly.

Hermione raised her head so she could look at her watch. It was five minutes until seven o'clock. "Yes, you do."

"What--what are you going to do?"

Hermione shrugged. "Try again, I suppose."

"Alone?" Harry asked sharply. "You know that I think someone should be in the room with you."

"And you know I'm going to do it anyway," Hermione countered weakly.

Harry nodded slowly. "At least try to get Ginny in here with you."

"Fine." Hermione looked up at him. Harry was starting to look relieved at their somewhat normal conversation, so she had to set him straight. "This doesn't mean that things are fixed between us."

"I know," Harry said thickly.

"I thought we could work things out, but I d-don't-know anymore," Hermione admitted miserably. She couldn't believe that she had just admitted defeat like this--this was Harry she was saying this to, her best friend. Things had been going so well, better than she ever expected in the situation they were in. Harry hadn't been snapping at anyone until now; he had reverted into retreating into himself, and although she knew that wasn't healthy for him, it was reminded her of the way that Harry used to be before Voldemort returned. It gave her hope that Harry could come back from whatever dark place he had lost himself in, but now...

Harry appeared stunned by this statement, as if he had no idea that he and Hermione were having such problems. He looked as though he wanted to talk it out with her, but another impatient glance at his watch changed his mind. "What went wrong?" Harry wondered quietly before pivoting on his heel and striding out of his dormitory.

Hermione watched him go with a large lump in her throat. "We lost Ron," she answered in a whisper.

**

"Harry! Harry, where are you?!" Hermione threw open the Front Doors and sprinted out into the starry night, heart thudding in her chest. She had a really bad feeling about this. She didn't like that she couldn't find him; she had looked all over the castle, and there wasn't a trace of him anywhere. "Harry!"

No answer. She came to an abrupt stop so she could take a good long look at the grounds. Harry could have gone to Hagrid's for some reason; perhaps Filch didn't have a task for him and shipped him off to Hagrid. She couldn't see any sign of him, but he could be in Hagrid's hut. Hermione started to run again, but a voice stopped her after only a few steps.

"Hermione,"

Every single muscle in her froze in sheer joy. She couldn't even turn around to visually confirm what she had just heard. She could be hallucinating so she preferred to close her eyes and savor the moment, possibly the only moment that it could be true. But she had to face it eventually so Hermione slowly and stiffly turned around.

There he was.

He looked every bit as wonderful as she remembered; in fact, he looked even better. Ron's appearance had never knocked the socks off of her, but the sight of him now actually made her catch her breath. He looked good. His hair was redder than ever, he appeared even taller and more powerful than she had ever known, and that smile on his face...okay, maybe he had knocked the socks off of her before, but never like this. Even his clothes looked spectacular; he was wearing his clean, worn jeans that had been Bill's and Fred's and his maroon Christmas jumper that was her favorite thing for him to wear. She always had thought Ron secretly looked wonderful in maroon, despite how much he moaned about it, and besides, she loved the way the soft knitting felt against her cheek when she burrowed against him.

Wait a moment...

Logic was starting to catch up with her and her ecstasy dwindled into confusion. Ron hadn't been wearing that jumper on the day he disappeared. Ron hadn't moved since they had met eyes; he appeared to be awaiting her to make the first move. She complied by taking a step backwards, eying him warily. She stared into those well-known blue eyes; they were just as she remembered, exactly as she dreamed them...

"Oh," she breathed in extreme disappointment. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"'Fraid so," Ron answered. His voice instigated a hot tingle throughout her spine, and the sensation spread throughout her network of nerves. Her eyes had closed with her sigh and she could hear the crunch of dead grass and leaves as Ron stepped towards her. "See?" She opened her eyes to find that Ron was lightly pinching her arm and yet she couldn't feel a thing.

"Yeah," Hermione's voice was starting to shake. "I wish you were real,"

"I know," Ron returned. He slipped both of his hands into hers and took a step closer so they were standing almost toe to toe. "Better?"

"A little," Hermione whispered. She leaned her forehead into Ron's chest with a half-contented, half-disappointed sigh. "I miss you so much,"

Ron had leaned down to hug her closer to him so she could feel his Adam's apple jump at her words. He had to swallow hard before speaking and when he did, his voice was also shaky and husky. "I miss you too." He held her for a few, wonderful moments before gently pushing her away. "Let me look at you," He smoothed some hair away from her face and kept his hands on her cheeks. He frowned slightly. "You don't look good,"

"Tact, Ron; when are you going to learn some tact?' Hermione rebuked faintly with a little laugh.

Ron didn't crack a grin. "You have to take care of yourself," he said sternly. "You're not going to get me back in this state."

Hermione brought her hands up to grip his wrists so he would never, ever let go of her face. "Then help me," she implored.

Ron had to close his eyes and swallow again. "Come on, love, you know I can't," His fingers were at the nape of her neck and unconsciously wrapping locks of her hair around them. He tried a weak smile. "And since when does Hermione Granger need help from anyone?"

"Because you're not..."

"No, don't even think that," Ron interrupted. "You're stronger than this, and you know it. You can do this."

"But I don't want to do it alone," Hermione whispered dejectedly, hands limply falling from his arms.

Ron wordlessly pulled her back towards him and his strong arms were once again tightly wrapped around her. "I don't want to let you do it alone," Ron quietly told her after a few moments of simply holding each other. "But if we are going to see each other again, we have to."

Hermione nodded slowly before pulling away so she could look up at him. She was frowning now and her brow was creased with irritation. "Let me?" she repeated. "Since when do you get to order me around?"

Ron looked frightened for about two seconds before smiling. "There's my girl," he said proudly at the fire in her eyes. Hermione softened at the statement and Ron seized his chance to gently bring his hands to her face again and pull her closer. Their lips met for a long, soft, warm, wonderful moment and when he pulled away, Hermione kept her eyes closed, infinitely comforted by the warm tingling Ron's lips had imprinted on hers. Ron continued to push her hair away from her cheeks tenderly. "How's Harry?"

Harry. Hermione yanked away from Ron, eyes wide and hand clapped over her mouth. "Ron, I completely forgot, how could I forget; I don't know where Harry is! We have to find him!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Ron seized her wrist as she tried to take off towards Hagrid's hut. "It's just a dream, remember?"

Ron quickly took hold of her other arm to steady her as her legs weakened with relief. "Thank goodness," Hermione breathed. Ron appraised her carefully as his fingers snaked down her arms to entwine her fingers in his.

"Hey, close your eyes," Ron told her. Hermione instantly obeyed and felt Ron's warm breath tickling her earlobe as he leaned even closer to her. "Remember how you felt when you didn't know where Harry was." He gave her a moment to reflect on it before continuing. "Now think about how you would have felt if something had happened and you two didn't make up." Hermione's eyes shot open; how did Ron know? But then she remembered it was all just a dream--this wasn't real, of course Ron would be omniscient. That didn't stop him from being right though. "Fight for him as hard as you're fighting for me," he ordered. "I don't want to come back to find my two best friends fighting, now do I?" Hermione nodded dumbly, tears now streaming down her cheeks so when Ron kissed her cheek, he tasted salt. "I'm going to come back, I promise," he murmured before trailing his lips down to hers.

It was such a good kiss that Hermione actually moaned in protest when Ron broke it off. He tried to step away from her, but Hermione tightened her hold on his fingers. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I've got--I can't stay, love," Ron stammered.

"No," Hermione protested, yanking him closer so she could wrap both her arms around his neck. "No, this is my dream, and when you realize you're dreaming, you can do whatever you want, right?"

Ron grinned. "Who am I to argue with master prefect Hermione Granger,"

"That's more like it," Hermione whispered before their lips met once again. His lips didn't stay on hers for very long before pressing hungrily into the sensitive part of her neck. Hermione leaned back and closed her eyes, hands clinging to his shoulders; she was never going to let him go. Her lips sought his out eagerly, knowing that this could be the last time they got to do this, even though she knew it was just a dream, she planned on reaping as many benefits from it as she could.

"Hermione?" Ron murmured.

Hermione couldn't; she was experiencing too much pleasure to speak.

"Hermione?" Ron repeated more forcefully.

"Yes?" Hermione managed to finally breathe.

"Hermione?"

Hermione blearily raised her head off of the soft mattress. "Bloody hell," she whispered dejectedly, Ron's influence undoubtedly still dictating her speech.

"Hermione?"

She yawned as she sat up. "Harry?" she mumbled sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight," Harry replied. He was still wearing his warm cloak and Gryffindor scarf; he must have just come in from outdoors. "What are you still doing up here?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes in a vain attempt to rub her tiredness away. "Oh, I suppose I just..." Her eyes widened as she suddenly remembered a very important part of her dream.

"Hermione!" Harry protested as she abruptly threw her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have said those things to you, I didn't mean them, I know we can work thing out, I don't want to lose you, Harry..."

Harry sighed heavily as he patted Hermione on the back of her head, his other arm around her waist. "I'm sorry too, Hermione," he said quietly. "I know you miss him as much as I do and you know I don't think you're useless, right?" Hermione didn't reply and Harry sighed again. "You're not; you know you're not. Do you realize how many times you've saved my hide?" Harry stopped patting her on the head as he became lost in his thoughts. "I was just angry. I don't want you or Ron to get mixed up in this and I thought that the only way was to push you away. I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Harry abruptly pulled Hermione's arms from his neck. "You'd be better off if you just stayed away from me."

Hermione's only response was to simply seize him in another tight embrace. Harry didn't reciprocate for a long moment but when he finally did, it was a real hug that none of the typical awkward head patting. He needed her and she needed him and for the first time, they were both displaying that openly. "Don't be silly," Hermione whispered fiercely. She swallowed hard before continuing. "But Harry, you can't say things like that to me and expect me not to react to it."

"And you can't expect me to just sit around and not try to stop all this," Harry returned, a slight edge to his voice.

"I know," Hermione admitted quietly. "I know. Just promise me--promise me whatever you do to tell me about it first. I won't tell you what to do, I swear, I'll just tell you what I think, and you can make the decision on your own, but you have to swear to me, swear that whatever you decide that you'll be very, very careful?"

"I swear," Harry promised, but Hermione and he knew that the minute that trouble arrived, he'd be in the midst of it; that's just the way he was. Harry was starting to fidget slightly from being in her arms for too long, which Hermione took as her cue to let go.

And as she drew away from him, she was letting go in more ways then one. In the past, she had always been the one telling him not to go off into danger or go looking for trouble. But after her own experiences with Voldemort's supporters, she was beginning to see that when Voldemort was after you, trouble often came to you. Harry couldn't help being the way he was, much like she couldn't help that she had to know the answer to every single question. She had to let him face this danger, because she had an impending feeling that it was coming, and it couldn't be stopped. Voldemort was back, and he wanted Harry. As much as it scared her, she had to let him look the murderer of his parents, of Cedric, of Sirius, in the eye and face him. She couldn't stop the inevitable. Harry had to face Voldemort and he alone decided when and where that fateful meeting would take place. She could advise him, counsel him, plead with him, but she couldn't stop him.

"Ron had it right all along," Hermione admitted. "He supported whatever decision you made while I tried to make you come around to my way of thinking." Harry shrugged slightly, not really sure where this was coming from. She closed her eyes briefly, the images of Ron in her dream burned in her memory. "I miss him so much."

"Me too," Harry replied in a thick voice.

"Just seeing him smile was so difficult for me," Hermione continued. "I just wished he was real, that it wasn't just a dream..."

"You dreamed about him?" Harry asked sharply.

She nodded dreamily. "Just now, when you came in..." she trailed off when she suddenly realized the implications of what she had just experienced. "Oh!"

"You did it," Harry looked as though he wanted dance around the room in mad glee. "You contacted Ron!"

"We don't know that," Hermione hastily pointed out. "I mean, we were speaking as though it was a normal conversation and dreams typically do not coincide so directly with everyday, realistic scenarios, but it certainly seemed to fit."

"Did he say anything about where he was?" Harry demanded.

She shook her head. "He said he couldn't tell me; I had to figure it out on my own."

"Why?" Harry burst out loudly.

"Ok, sorry you two, I'm really glad you found Ron with Hermione's telepathy or whatever it is, but could you go to the common room or something?" Seamus Finnigan popped his weary head out of the curtains on his bed. "Some of us are trying to sleep up here."

Dean Thomas also poked his face out. "Hermione, you can find Ron?"

"Not exactly," Hermione left it at that as she hopped off Ron's bed. She knew that Dean and Seamus were dying to ask her to elaborate, but luckily Harry shot them a warning look. Everyone knew not to mess with Harry this year, so the two boys silently retreated back behind the curtains to their beds. Harry followed her out into the hallway so they could continue their conversation.

"I think I have to be unconscious or asleep or something in order to communicate with Ron," Hermione hypothesized. "Or...I--I don't know," She sighed as she rubbed her weary forehead. "Maybe we should think of a better idea."

"Like what?" Harry asked dejectedly.

She shrugged. "I don't know--there are some location charms or tracking devices we could try,"

"But there's no guarantee that those will work," Harry pointed out. "I've looked all of those up already, and there just as reliable as this empath thing. Besides, it's nothing that Order isn't already doing. If we don't keep pursuing this, then there's really nothing else we can really try," He looked at her appealingly. "Are you sure this isn't going to work?"

"Well," Hermione hedged, "I just don't want to get our hopes up,"

"That's true with any plan," Harry pointed out quietly.

"We'll just have to keep trying to find out how they knew it was a Hogsmeade weekend, or if Malfoy really does know anything about it, but other than that..." She sighed. "Other than that, the plan is just going to have to be waiting for the Order or Aurors to find him."

"Waiting," Harry repeated. He chuckled mirthlessly. "We've never just sat back and waited before."

"We're not going to be just waiting around, twiddling our thumbs," Hermione clarified. "We are going to be doing things but it's not as though we can just go out and find him on our own."

Harry nodded silently. "The Order does have a good lead with that letter," he finally spoke.

"What letter?"

"The one found in Avery's pocket," Harry explained. "It was in some sort of Death Eater code but they've got Avery in custody--they're going to offer him a deal if he squeals. Remus thinks its details about their next meeting or something."

"That's great news," Hermione concurred, but she felt anything but comforted.

Harry wasn't reassured either, but he did see the logic to Hermione's plan. He shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets. "So we're going to just wait, then?"

"Yeah," Hermione whispered. "We just wait."