The Hospital Conversations

As Ron listened to Lavender prattle on at Madam Pomfrey, he kept hearing a scraping noise. The ache in his jaw let him know that it was his teeth grinding. He unclenched his jaw and felt a momentary relief from the headache that had been building since Lavender had arrived.

That girl was becoming a bloody nightmare.

Lavender was going on and on and on to the school healer. She was his girlfriend, of course. She should be informed immediately if his condition got better or worse, of course. She should be allowed in at all hours in order to cheer him up, without question. Ron felt his jaw and head begin to ache again with each statement.

Alright, Lavender wasn't a complete a nightmare. He did like her. She was nice enough, if a little stuck up. He thought that she really did like him too. Maybe she even cared about him as much as she pretended she did. But at other times, she seemed to simply enjoy the trappings of the teenage relationship. She seemed to simply like the idea of having a boy to call "my sweetheart."

On the other hand, she certainly was a looker. She had graceful features, long silky blonde hair, and a shapely frame. She doted on him and took every opportunity to show everyone how great she thought he was. She snogged him like crazy for the whole world to see, so that every schoolmate knew that Ronald Weasley was not the last bloke on earth to get a snog, no matter anything Ginny might say.

Yeah, she had done a lot for Ron's confidence. He could pull a cute girl when he wanted too after all. That had seemed the biggest deal in the world to him not so long ago. So why couldn't he remember ever being this unhappy?

How had he gotten into this?

He grimaced at the thought. He knew how he had gotten into this. He had wanted to prove he was cool. He had wanted to show his taunting little prat of a sister that he, too, could flail around various parts of the school. He had wanted to show ...show...

Hermione. He had done it because of Hermione.

He wanted Hermione to want him. He wanted her to think he was worth wanting. He wasn't the git she thought he was. He wasn't some awkward red-haired idiot for her to step on, or to think poorly of, or to pity. She could have Viktor Krum, and all his riches and fans. She could have Harry, who was so "fanciable."

That last thought brought sudden memories of painful dreams. There had been dreams brought about by the poison-induced oblivion in which he had wallowed for the last few days. There had been nightmares of Hermione and Harry.

Ron laid his head back on the pillow, listening to Lavender receiving some variety of heated reply from Madam Pomfrey. He closed his eyes wearily.

The memory of one of those dreams seemed to come to him now. The figures of Harry and Hermione rose up in front of him, taunting and cruel. Her eyes and voice torturing him. She wrapped herself sensuously around Harry as they laughed at him in scorn.

Hermione asked him cruelly, "Who could want you, when I have the Boy Who Lived?"

Ron shivered at the memory of it. Harry was his best mate. Harry had saved Ron's life. Harry had lived a tragic accursed life, which would probably result in his early death. Harry deserved to be as happy as he could be. Ron would not begrudge him anything.

Except her. He couldn't have Hermione.

But in that dream, something odd had happened. The demented face of his best mate had disappeared, and Hermione's eyes had changed. The vicious light had disappeared. Her voice lost that mocking edge and phantom quality.

Her voice sounded again in his ears. In that dream, her voice had become almost real. She had sounded stuffy and scared. She had sounded oh so tearfully frightened. She had been frightened for...him.

In the dream she had become herself, or what he hoped was herself. She had run into his arms and he had kissed her, and raised her off her feet in doing it. He had said her name. He had called it out in relief to see her affection bestowed on him.

The nightmares stopped coming after that.

Nightmare. He had called Hermione that once. He just had not realized that she would really become his dream.

He laughed inwardly. Now, if he could just figure out how to wax this poetic with his big mouth as well as his mind, maybe he wouldn't keep ticking her off all the time. Maybe she wouldn't hate him so much right now.

He wished he knew how to chuck Lavender without hurting her feelings. He wished he could learn what to do and say, and stop being a rude git around Hermione. Hermione always learned all her stuff from books. Maybe there was a book out there about how to stop girls from thinking you are a flaming arse...

Ron heard the click of the Hospital Wing door opening.

"I told you come back tomorrow, Ms. Brown!" came the exasperated voice of Madam Pomfrey from her office. He heard the sound of desk chair being pushed back and rapid footsteps. "If you ...Oh! It's you, Ms. Granger."

Ron's eyes snapped open. He craned his head up to look at the doorway. There she was! Lavender was nowhere to be seen! He must have dozed off for a moment while Madam Pomfrey chivvied Lavender out.

Hermione cast a furtive glance at him as she apologized to Madam Pomfrey for the lateness of her visit. Madam Pomfrey wasn't unkind, but she told Hermione that she would have only a few minutes. With a waive of her wand, the healer conjured a squat cushy armchair next to Ron's bed. She had not done the same for Lavender.

Ron watched Hermione walk up to him. She didn't look at him, but he could tell her eyes were a bit red and puffy at the edges. She looked like she had not been sleeping well. Had she been crying?

"Ron," she began, just as he said, "Hermione."

They both sat there flummoxed for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said, as she said, "Go on."

At this, she looked up at him. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and saw a mirrored movement in her face.

"I'll go first?" she asked.

"Uh...yeah. Okay."

"Ron, I wanted to say that I am sorry," said Hermione, looking him in the eye.

"For what?" he asked stupidly, kicking himself as he did so.

Hermione looked down again. She seemed torn between being a bit exasperated and a bit amused. "I am sorry that I have not been a friend to you these last few months, and I am sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me."

Ron looked out the window, heat flushing his cheeks. He felt suddenly horribly mortified by his behavior with Lavender. He took a deep breath and looked back at her

"Me too," Ron said simply. He knew it was too little. "I'm really sorry for ... everything. Sorry ... about Lavender."

"Oh!" said Hermione, a bit surprised. She looked up at him quickly, then back at her feet. She seemed embarrassed but pleased.

They sat there together awkwardly for several long moments. Ron knew that this should be a long conversation. There was much more to say, but he had no idea how to say it. He could see that Hermione felt the same way. She seemed on the verge of spouting out a long monologue, but she did not seem able to find the right words.

She opened her mouth, and he looked at her expectantly. She shut it again with a frustrated exhalation of breath.

"Difficult, isn't it?" asked Ron, after several more long seconds.

"What do you mean?" She looked up at him again and held his gaze.

Ron waived his hand noncommittally around the room.

"All of it," he said. He brought his hand down and waived it uncertainly between her and him. "This...mess."

She smiled understandingly. Ron chuckled. There was finally an admission that there was ...something... between them. There was something that at least required the waive of a hand.

They sat quietly for several minutes, enjoying each other's quiet company. The awkwardness of moments before seemed to dissipate like morning fog.

"Yes." said Hermione, smiling at him distractedly. "Things have never been easy between you and I."

"Yeah." He grinned. "Probably never will be."

"Oh, I dunno," she responded airily, looking out the window. Was that wistfulness in her voice?

"Well," he said ruefully, "maybe when Voldemort's breaking down the door."

"If not then, then never," sighed Hermione dramatically. She started to smile, but yawned instead.

He watched her closely, feeling suddenly protective.

"You look tired, Hermione," said Ron softly.

She yawned again and settled down deeper into a chair that was surprisingly comfortable.

"I should be off to bed," she said sleepily, her eyelids heavy. "Madam Pomfrey will kick me out in a minute."

Ron reached out his hand to her.

"Not yet?" he asked, a plaintive tone creeping into his voice. "I reckon I ...I dream better dreams when ... your here."

She took his hand in hers, blinking rapidly.

"Not yet," agreed Hermione in a whisper.

Ron watched her close her eyes, and felt himself drifting. His last awareness was the caress of his thumb on her fingers, and the sound of her breathing growing deep with sleep.