You've never felt this kind of cold before. It's the kind that settles deep inside your bones, the one that chills from the inside out, the type that never really goes away—no matter how many blankets or bluebell flames you make. And it doesn't help that the winter is setting in, freezing everything else in its wake. But you know that it has nothing to do with the snow. Harry notices, of course, but he doesn't say anything, and you've done such a good job at diverting his gaze that you've convinced yourself he can't see your puffy, red eyes or the way your sobs shake you at night.
You dawdle before you Apparate away, hoping that he comes back to you, wishing for him to appear and cure the coldness that has overcome you. But he doesn't. He's not there, and when Harry takes your hand and you disappear into the suffocating unknown, you fear that you've lost him forever.
Both you and Harry silently decide not to talk about your friend's departure. After all, he had given away your secret too. And even though you stayed, Harry now knew that a part of you was feeling exactly how Ron had. But other than the uncomfortable silences, the sleepless nights, the one empty bed, the awful and numbing coldness residing in your body, everything seems to have gone back to normal. You still put up those same protective enchantments (a little sloppily when you realize you could be concealing yourself from him), you still make yourself and Harry dinner and tea, you still read The Tales of Beetle the Bard. It's almost like nothing's changed. Even a part of you still wonders if Harry does, indeed, have a plan.
But things are also incredibly different. That coldness, for one, does not bode well with you. It makes you long for him more, and you wonder feebly if you should have left with him. Harry and you have barely talked and you are unable to comprehend the fact that you are friends. Because it doesn't feel like it, it feels (and you hate to admit it) that something is missing, that what held you all together left with the angry words, "You choose him."
At the same time, you're mad, completely furious that he could so easily have just Disapparated, leaving you numb and more vulnerable than ever. And how could he have done this to his best friend, the one person he remained fiercely loyal to? How could he have done this to you?
And then he comes back, after saving Harry's life, dripping wet with a stupid smile pasted on his face. He just looks so insufferably beautiful and wickedly noble carrying that sword. But for some reason, you're angrier than ever. You start to punch him. He's says he sorry. That makes you ever more annoyed.
It isn't until he's done his explaining and you find out about the doe Patronus that you finally settle back in bed. You hear Harry saying something to Ron, but you can't make it out.
"Could have been worse," says Ron with a hopeful air about his voice, "Remember those birds she set on me last year?"
"I still haven't ruled it out," you say from beneath your blankets, but even you can't deny how warm you suddenly feel, and for the first time in weeks everything seems alright again.