Love's Greatest Sacrifice

By the time Hermione had watched the sun drift to its usual 7 o'clock position, she was fully awake and terrified.

She sprinted down the stairs after a rushed change of clothes, and once she was within a safe distance of her room, walked mechanically towards the breakfast hall. Even though was Saturday, she had left at the crack of seven, not wanting to spend another second in her dorm.

She slumped down into her seat, looking pale and disheveled. She began to eat so slowly that by the time she was done with one of her eggs, Ron had joined her, looking annoyingly chipper in Hermione's opinion.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked, without removing her gaze from the table.

"It's Saturday," he said matter-of-factly. "What are you so unhappy about?"

"Nothing," she said automatically. She wasn't going to bring him down with worry about some harmless ghost-thing. It probably was a ghost. she thought. A fresh ghost, but a ghost none the less. Hermione refused to think about how ghosts don't usually make the room twenty degrees for only one person, or make you feel like you're on fire for that matter. Well, you've never kissed one before have you? she said, trying to convince herself. And maybe it's a different kind of ghost. One that makes only one person feel like.... well, that was what she wasn't supposed to be thinking about.

Ron stared at her with his eyebrows raised. After a few uncomfortable seconds of feeling like she was under a silent interrogation, Hermione saw him break his gaze and pull a plate of bacon towards him. He had most likely assumed it was just general worry about the war, and discontinued any further line of questioning. Until...

"At least eat something," he said finally.

Hermione looked down at her plate. She had not been able to eat any more than her one egg in half an hour.

"I'm not hungry,"

"What's wrong?" he said, exasperated.

"Really nothing. one of the ghosts just wandered into my room last night and gave me a scare."

"A ghost? In your room? They're not supposed to go in there! Peeves can't even get in there. Who was it?" he said in an almost frightened pitch.

"Just some... boy,"

"A... a boy? In your room? In the middle of the night?"

"You make it sound so seedy, Ron!" Hermione interjected. She of course thought it was seedy too, but she didn't want to let Ron think there was some boy leering at her while she slept. Even though there apparently was. She just didn't want him to get jealous. Wait, what on earth was she saying? Who gets jealous of a ghost? And besides, jealous wasn't the right word, she had meant ... protective. Ron was always protective of her.

"Well if he comes again, tell me..." he said, frowning.

"And what? you'll beat the snot out of a ghost?" she laughed.

"No, but I'm glad I could at least cheer you up," he said as he tilted his head and smiled. She smiled back.

"Seriously though," he said, still staring at her. "We could tell a teacher if it happens again, you know?"

"All right," she agreed. He was right, he did cheer her up. He could do that so well, even when he didn't know it.

Harry had appeared ten minutes later, and after a quick breakfast he had joined them outside for a snowball fight. Hermione, being familiar with muggle diagnosis, knew exercise was good for people who were feeling depressed. Which was why she had suggested it. She wanted to help Harry. Well, she had suggested it to help him, but she also knew it could help her too. Ever since the visit from the blue boy, she had felt an overwhelming sensation of something bad, but she still couldn't identify it. All she knew was that it was located in the pit of her heart, and she wanted to make it feel better. This of course was another thing she didn't want herself to think about. As a distraction, she concentrated on penetrating Ron's fort.

"Move your head, come on," she muttered. "Aha!"

Ron shook the snow out of his hair and grinned.

Wow, Hermione thought, he sure looks-

As usual, she had to stop herself from saying "cute".