Hermione Granger sat alone in her dorm room revising her History of Magic essay. She felt grateful to be alone, especially to be spared the company of Lavender Brown, who was becoming more and more insufferable. Lavender only served as a reminder that she and Ron Weasley were further from being in a relationship than they'd ever been. They weren't even speaking. Not for lack of trying on Ron's part, and not because Hermione didn't want to talk to him...she did...she missed him terribly. But most of the time, he was wrapped around Lavender like a weed, her lips smashing firmly on his. This infuriated Hermione, but her anger was merely a way of dealing with the heartache. She avoided Ron and Lavender because she couldn't stand to see him paying that kind of attention to someone else. Because she longed for him to snog her like that. Well, not exactly like that and certainly not in public. But being in their presence while they snogged passionately (which was all the time) would bring tears to her eyes, and in front of everyone, which was something she wanted to avoid. What hurt most of all, more than having to hear Lavender talk about how much she adored her "Won Won," was that there was absolutely no explanation to why she and Ron had gotten together in the first place. Ron had never spoken to her very often. She was an acquaintance, a fellow-Gryffindor, but Hermione thought she was a bit shallow. Of course, she was pretty, but there were many pretty girls at Hogwarts. Ron had never seemed interested in any of them. He'd gone to the Yule Ball, with Padma Patil, someone many sixth-year boys thought was the best-looking girl in their year, and she hadn't held his attention. Hermione had finally gotten the courage to make a move, to ask Ron to Slughorn's party, and he'd agreed to go with her. Not only that, he'd seemed happy to be asked. Then out of nowhere, he was furious with her over something he wouldn't say, and he was snogging Lavender constantly. It made no sense.
Hermione sighed, frustrated that once again, she'd become too distracted by her own despair over Ron to properly do her work. She was an exemplary student, to say the least, but whenever she found herself falling short of her very high standards, it was due to that certain red-head. Looking at the top of her parchment, she realized why she was thinking of him even more than usual. Today was Ron's birthday. She hadn't gotten him a present, which made her feel guilty. That wasn't like her at all, but she simply couldn't stomach the thought of shopping for him. It would have just made her cry even more. She dipped her quill in ink again and started to add a new paragraph, when the door to the dorm flew open and a stricken-looking Ginny stood there, tears in her eyes and out of breath.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, jumping from her chair. Ginny looked as though she'd seen a ghost. "Ginny? What happened?" Hermione asked. But Ginny shook her head and went to grab Hermione's hand. "Tell me!" she demanded.
"It's Ron..." said Ginny. Hermione's eyes grew wide. "He's been poisoned," Ginny finished, looking terrified.
Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. The color drained from her face.
"What? Oh...please no...he isn't...?" Hermione's mind immediately went to the darkest place possible but she couldn't bring herself to say "dead."
"No. He's just unconscious. I haven't seen him. He's in the hospital wing."
"Let's go," said Hermione swiftly, forgetting she was angry with Ron.
"You go on ahead. I need a minute to collect my thoughts. I just thought you should know."
Hermione ran past her friend, thanking her. She wanted to get to Ron as fast as she could and see for herself that he was going to be alright. But was he? Ginny said he was unconscious. What if he never woke up? What if he didn't make it and he departed this life thinking she hated him? What would she do without him? Would she even be able to continue living in the magical world? How would anything else in her life ever seem important with him gone? These were the thoughts that danced in her mind as she ran down the stairs towards the hospital wing. Tears streamed down her face, she didn't even try to fight them. Her whole body felt tense. She arrived at the hospital wing to find Harry standing outside the doors.
"What happened to him?" demanded Hermione. "How did he get poisoned? You were there? Have you seen him? How does he look?"
"Yes, I was there. No, I haven't seen him, yet. Madam Pomfrey won't let anyone in." said Harry.
Hermione blanched even more at this news, staring at the double doors as though she could pierce a hole in them with her eyes. Harry began to explain how Ron had eaten chocolates with love potion from Romilda, thinking they were a birthday present. How he'd been so out of sorts that he'd hit Harry, so he'd wanted to take Ron immediately to Slughorn for an antidote. Hermione almost told Harry that if he'd paid attention in potions instead of using the Prince's book he would know the antidote already, but she didn't. Harry wouldn't have any of the ingredients. She reminded herself. She looked horrified as he explained how Ron had taken a sip of Slughorn's mead and promptly began convulsing. As Harry finished the tale by telling her how he'd thought of the bezoar and found one in the cabinet, she felt relieved they'd been in the place where all those ingredients were kept. But if he hadn't gone to Slughorn, he wouldn't have been poisoned in the first place. She thought, lamely. The love potion probably would have just worn out over time. Hermione had to hand it to Romilda for knowing how to make such a strong potion, but she also thought it extremely irresponsible. No one was meant to eat all the chocolates at once, thought Hermione, that's just Ron and his extreme sweet tooth. This made Hermione cry all the more, her shoulders beginning to shake with sobs. Harry didn't know quite what to do to comfort her. She got her tears under control on her own, drying them with her sleeve.
"Visitors must get in the way of...whatever treatment..." said Harry, absently, not sure if this was true or not, but feeling just as lost as Hermione. Two fourth year girls came up and Madam Pomfrey opened the doors for them.
"Can we...?" asked Harry.
"Afraid not," Madam Pomfrey said. "I'll let you know when you can."
Hermione almost burst into tears once more, but she still tried to contain herself. Harry seemed calm. Perhaps Hermione was worrying unnecessarily. Madam Pomfrey always seemed to come through with the right treatment. And Harry had used the bezoar. He'd stopped the flow of the poison before it could completely take over. Just then Ginny came up to join them, looking much more collected than she had when telling Hermione the news.
"Tell me what happened." she said to Harry, who launched into the tale once more, Hermione's nerves bunching as she listened again in rapt horror.
"I suppose we'll be here for a while," said Ginny, looking sorrowfully at Hermione. Harry conjured chairs for them to sit in, Hermione sinking into one almost immediately. Ginny sat down next to her and patted her shoulder.
"He'll be okay..." she said. "You'll get a chance to make up with him," she added in a whisper so Harry couldn't hear. Hermione nodded. They sat for hours. Hermione was jealous of the two fourth year girls who exited with a third party, the friend they'd been visiting who'd just gotten released. She tried in vain to see a glimpse of Ron's red hair, as the doors stood open.
"Now?" asked Ginny rising from her chair, attempting to enter.
"Still no," said Madam Pomfrey.
To Hermione, the hours felt like days, but she barely noticed she was hungry until Harry suggested they go down to dinner. Hermione just shook her head. She wasn't going anywhere until she laid eyes on Ron.
"I'll go get us something," said Harry. leaving the girls alone. They sat in silence, springing up anxiously again when the doors opened once more, this time, just a nurse leaving to go get more potions from the dungeons.
"Not yet," said Madam Pomfrey, before they could even ask.
"How is he?" Ginny demanded. "At least tell us that."
"He's going to be alright, but he needs to rest," said Madam Pomfrey. She clearly thought that visitors would disturb him. "Mr. Weasley is very lucky to have such caring friends and family."
"Thank you," said Ginny. Hermione sat down again, a faint smile on her lips. He was going to be alright! Still, she wanted to see him, but she felt some anguish leaving her. Harry returned with some dinner rolls and some cheese.
"It isn't much," said Harry, sheepishly. "But it's all I could get."
"It'll do. I'm not that hungry, anyway," Ginny told him.
Hermione took a roll, absently, nibbling on it slowly. It felt good to eat, but her stomach was still tied in knots. Harry and Ginny began talking about Quidditch and Hermione found herself retreating inwardly. She started thinking about what she should say to Ron when he woke up. She would apologize for ignoring him, wish him a "Happy Birthday," tell him why she was mad, admit her feelings for him, ask him to break-up with Lavender... she didn't get a chance to come up with anything else, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were hurrying up the stairs.
"Ginny! How is he?" Molly asked, hugging her daughter.
"We have no idea. We haven't seen him, yet. Madam Pomfrey says he'll be alright, though."
Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry and Hermione, Mr. Weasley looking at them, kindly. It always seemed to Hermione that he wore a strong face when the family was in distress. Then they disappeared behind the double doors. Parents it seemed, were an exception to the no visiting rule. After what felt like ages, the Weasleys emerged, looking somewhat shaken, but they appeared to be managing.
"We're going to speak with Dumbledore," said Arthur. Madam Pomfrey poked her head out the door.
"You're still here?" she asked, looking at Harry, Hermione and Ginny. "You are devoted... you can come and see him now, but try not to be too loud, and don't hug him or squeeze him too hard." Madam Pomfrey knowingly looked at Hermione when she said this. Hermione blushed slightly, but pushed past her into the hospital wing. She spotted Ron and instead of her heart leaping, it fell. He didn't look good. There was no color in his face and even his hair had lost some luster. He looked shiny, as though he'd been sweating and Hermione hoped he wasn't uncomfortable. He looked peaceful, though, she noted as she approached. Harry drew up chairs for them to sit in, Ginny and Hermione sitting on either side of him.
"He's just sleeping," Madam Pomfrey told them. Hermione wanted to reach out and touch him, but she knew she shouldn't. She wanted him to wake up so he would know she was there, that she would never ignore him again! She was determined to stay by his side as long as she could. They all sat in silence, but each had a vested interest in Ron waking up. A few minutes later, Fred and George arrived looking grim. Hermione listened vaguely as Harry recounted the tale for the twins, growing more upset as the images passed through her mind. This was now the third time she heard the tale and tears were building up again. Listening to them discussing theories on the poisoning, she finally felt moved to speak. The sound of her own voice surprised her. She sounded as awful as she felt. Then something amazing happened. Ron said her name...well, she couldn't be completely sure, but it really did sound like it.
"Erm-my-nee," he'd mumbled. If that wasn't "Hermione," what else could it be? And she had just spoken, hadn't she? Nobody else seemed to notice, not even Ginny, they all just seemed relieved that he was coherent enough to use his voice. He mumbled a bit more and then began snoring. Hermione's heart was fluttering, her nerves jangled, but now for a completely different reason. She felt strangely energized. She found herself able to discuss the recent attacks with her friends, and felt she actually had something worthwhile to offer. When Ron's parents returned and it was time for her to leave, she did so feeling hopeful, rather than in despair. She would return tomorrow, and the next day, until he woke up and she could see those glorious blue eyes. And even then, no matter how long he had to stay, she'd visit him everyday. She'd visit until he knew that he had her back again and until he knew that she'd never really been gone.