As mentioned on the main summary, this is a fanfic written from Ron's perspective (3rd person narration) written a couple of days after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Unlike my previous work, this one is entirely based on the events of a novel (OOtP). It's somewhat an angst-ridden story to begin with, but includes some humour, awkward moments, and some DA action later on. I also included a couple of small references to events or dialogue in the movies, as well as some foreshadowing for events in the Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows.

It was recently that I saw there weren't actually that many fics concentrating on the convalescing Ron and Hermione post-Ministry. Add to that Madam Pomfrey's comments about thoughts leaving truly deep scarring, and I thought potentially this might be a prelude to Ron's insecurities flaring up in DH. And a very long one shot was born over the last 24 hours.

On a personal note, I'm currently drafting or in the middle of writing about five additional fics, and I promise I won't stick to one genre. Variety is nice.

Finally, a humungous thank-you to everyone who has even bothered to click on my stories so far, and review. It's very unnerving publishing your first few stories online for the world to see, so support is great.

Scars that run deeper

He helped himself to a handful of Chocolate Frogs from the immense pile on his bedside cabinet, threw a few to Harry, Ginny and Neville and wrapped off his own with his teeth. There were still deep welts on his forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him. According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction there seemed to have been some improvement.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (UK edition) p746 -

June 20th 1996

*flashback*

There was a bang as the door in front of Ron, Ginny and Luna flew open, and two masked Death Eaters poured in. One raised their wand and pointed it at Ron…

"Stupefy!" cried Ginny, but the Death Eater, lithe as a cat, rolled to avoid it, and sent a jet of green at the two girls, who ducked in opposite directions to avoid it. There was a small shriek from Ginny as the curse hit the wall behind her, blackening it.

Run!" Ron bellowed, crawling desperately between a row of desks to reach his sister and Luna; they had to regroup, as it was their only chance of survival. The Death Eaters gave chase, and as they ran towards the nearest door, they could hear Neville cry out "Stupefy!" from beyond it. His heart raced; Harry, Neville and Hermione were now without backup, and in grave danger. He had to reach them…

When Ron was ten feet from the door, it flew open as two more masked Death Eaters stood there, both reaching for their wands.

"This way!" he cried out, changing course and diving through a door to his left as he heard Hermione scream "STUPEFY!" With an impatient tug, Ginny pulled the slightly-dazed looking Luna along through the door with her as the Death Eaters' curses flew through the spot they had been just a second ago.

Ron stopped, and looked around this room. It was dark, and very eerie, with large models of the planets Mercury through Pluto hanging in the dark room. This room seemed to extend forever, though he could vaguely see the outline of the door beyond, vaguely illuminated by the faint orange glow from Mercury. A hundred feet away.

"Colloportus!" spluttered Ginny as with a squelch, the door promptly shut and sealed behind her and Luna and depriving the room of the bright torchlight in the previous room. Ron shivered as the light was cut off. There were two loud thuds as the two closest Death Eaters ran headlong into it; muffled sounds could now be heard as the Death Eaters tried kicking the door down and charming it open.

"Move! Stand aside Goyle!"

"Get moving!" Ron called out to the two girls standing before him. "I'll cover the door." As Ginny and Luna began running towards him, Ron began to back away as fast as he dared, still pointing his wand at the door.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The door was blown off its hinges with a thunderous roar and flew across the room to hit the left-hand wall. Large clouds of dust billowed from where the hinges were, obscuring Ron's vision. Where were Ginny and Luna anyway? He saw three dark figures moving indistinctly behind it. Now he could make out Ginny's long red hair. Suddenly, the figure behind what he assumed to be Luna made a rugby-tackle forwards onto Ginny's foot. There was a snap and a shriek of pain as her ankle broke.

Ron pulled out his wand, but Luna was even faster.

"REDUCTO!" she cried, not aiming at the Death Eater's outline, but at the large planetary ball five feet to his left.

The room shook violently as Pluto was blown to smithereens, large glowing pieces pummeling the Death Eater's mask, arm and torso. With a howl, he dropped Ginny, who shakily got onto one foot, wobbling violently as she did so.

Through the ringing in Ron's ears he heard multiple shouts coming from another room.

"RON? GINNY? LUNA?"

"Harry!"

So they were still alive, but not for much longer…he had to get to them before the Death Eaters did…

"Luna, go go, go! I'll get Ginny!"

There was no need to tell Luna to run; as she sprung back up onto her feet with an alertness not previously displayed that evening, Ron lunged through the dust cloud to gram Ginny's arm. Linking his through hers, they ran, Ginny hopping on one foot and her face pale.

In his mind's eye, Ron could see the other three Death Eaters charging in through the doorway, one crying with shock as he tripped over his wounded and dazed comrade. He charged forwards, ignoring the stitch. Luna was just ahead of them. They were now fifty feet from the door as they passed the scarlet glow of Jupiter. They could make it…

"Confundo!"

A sudden flash of pain in the small of his back; he stopped stone cold, suddenly feeling dazed as a wave of bliss came rolling over him. He tried moving his arms, and they felt like lead. Why bother fighting? Why not just have a good time? He began to chuckle as he spat out some blood from a cut inside his mouth.

Ginny looked at him, more frightened than she'd looked all evening.

"Ron! What- what happened?" As she tried to get him to move again, she gave a great gasp of pain and fell to the floor, bringing Ron down with her. Luna stopped and turned, concern in her wide eyes.

"Get him!" Ginny hissed as she disentangled herself from the now-giggling Ron. "I can't carry him on my ankle."

Luna reached him, pulled him to his feet, but Ron didn't know why she was desperately tugging the arm out of his socket.

"OW! Geroff me, geroff me Loony!" he laughed, a part of him deeper down realizing something wasn't right here. He hadn't called Luna 'Loony' since the Quibbler published Harry's interview.

"Come on Ron," she spoke softly, as though encouraging a mentally ill patient. "Let's get you out of here. She started tugging the still-dazed Ron past Planet Earth and Venus. Ron was annoyed at her tone. He wasn't mentally ill, he just found comedy at inopportune times….

Ginny wrenched the door open, and Luna charged through it with Ron, all three of them fell through the door sprawling to the floor.

Ron, still in a daze, got to his feet, looked up at Harry and Neville, who were both looking worse for wear. Neville had blood dribbling down from his nose, and was carrying a suspiciously still and pale form.

Hermione. Unmoving.

Ron's brain tumbled into panic mode, but a soft, relaxing voice was trying to smother it.

Please don't let her be dead….

Ha, that girl that carried me is Loony Lovegood! Hilarious!

Please don't let Hermione be dead. Please, please make us all come through this….

Harry looks funny, doesn't he?

What if she's dead? What if we all die here?

I love these lights. Beautiful, aren't they?

The battle continued raging inside Ron's head. He could vaguely make out Luna saying something with a sad voice, Ginny panting with pain as she clutched her broken ankle. Words were tumbling out of his mouth as the warm fuzziness grew stronger. It was just like when he'd snuck into the Burrow's liquor cupboard and tried a bottle of Firewhisky after everyone had gone to bed…

Suddenly his knees gave way on him.

Someone help her now. She needs help immediately. Someone help me. I think I'm going mad. Help Harry. Help us all.

Merlin's saggy left buttock, I saw Uranus!

Anyone, please help….

At that, Ron Weasley gave into the lovely warmth that was spreading through his body, and followed Harry and the others without a care in the world….

*Later*

Ron looked into the tank full of green liquid and brains, which were floating through the mass like slimy, solid jellyfish.

"Hey!" he called out to Harry, tottering drunkenly towards him as more words spilled out of his mouth; why was he so unsteady on his feet? And why was there still a worm of unease eating into his gut at this whole farcical, mysterious, funny adventure they were going on?

His head felt detached from his wand as he summoned a brain from the tank, and it began rippling and unwinding images of thought as it rolled towards him. He felt a shiver ripple through his body. Why did the sight of this unravelling brain creep him out so much? And if so, why was he still summoning it? He bottled those thoughts away as he stretched out his hand, ignoring the look of mounting horror behind his best friend's spectacles.

The brain soflty touched his hand; it tickled. He giggled again, but it died away as he saw the tentacles of thought start crawling up and wrapping around his arms. A vague flickering of old memories began flashing in front of his eyes, even as he stared at Harry. In an instant, the Confundus Charm was lifted from him, and the full horror of the evening's events unfolded.

"Harry, look what's happen- No- no- I don't like it- no, stop- stop-"

The ribbons began tightening against his chest. Still they climbed, up towards his neck, and the images flashed into full view…

He was two, sitting, waiting for dinner and crying in his high chair as he saw his mother happily scoop Ginny's dinner into her mouth with a spoon, the strongest look of motherly affection on her face….

He was sitting with his teddy bear, and let out a yell as it grew four additional legs, long black hair and pincers, Fred and George's laughter ringing in his ears…

He took a look of longing at the latest Nimbus for sale at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. His mother tugged him on the shoulder, a subtle reminder that he'd never ever be rich enough to buy one…

A twinge of jealousy as he saw the Sickles, Knuts and Galleons in Harry's hand as he bought his first set of Chocolate Frogs and other sweets on the Hogwarts Express….

Something was now curling around his neck, threatening to cut off his air supply, and he began thrashing violently with fright, unable to see or hear a thing as still more painful images came flooding into his brain….

Another ruddy maroon jumper for him as he stared over at Harry's jumper, superior to his in every way….

A sickening surge of fear as he saw the Queen moving towards him, her arm moving backwards to strike him on the head….

A white-hot surge of anger and hatred as Malfoy spat 'Mudblood' at one of his closest friends…

The worst spike of horror yet as he stared into Hermione's eyes, frozen open by the Basilisk's terrifying gaze….

His windpipe was now mostly blocked. He lashed out blindly to unwind the ribbons…his chest was now on the verge of bursting…

The urge to murder Malfoy in potions after what he had just uttered….

Now he was staring with horror into the blank, milky eyes of Aragog, who had just told him he was on the menu for his sons and daughters…

The words from McGonagall that signaled the end of his sister's life….

The feeling he'd never be cheerful again as he shivered in the dark icebox that was his compartment on the Hogwarts Express…

The worst surge of jealousy yet as Harry's name was pulled out of the Goblet…

Himself looking at his dress robes in the mirror, cursing the cuffs off in a ditch-attempt to make himself presentable and not woebegone in such dreadful clothing….

Viktor Krum, smiling down affectionately at Hermione as he twirled her around the dancefloor…

Harry trembling with grief, fear and exhaustion, slumped over the rigid form of Cedric Diggory…

His thrashing was now growing weaker as more images, some of which he hadn't even thought of before, flooded in…

A low, sinking feeling as he saw Harry being given a peck on the cheek by none other than their mutual friend…

Disgust and hatred for Delores Umbridge and her bloody pink attire….

Another letter to that ruddy prat…

Seeing the Quaffle rushing towards him, his hands reaching out…only to have the Quaffle soar through them into the hoop, accompanied by the jeering of the crowd in green and silver…

Fighting back the need to vomit as for hours on end, there was no further news about whether his father would survive…

Horror as he realized that they had been lured here under false pretenses….

Even worse, realization of where he was, what was throttling him, and how he could do nothing to help his friends, yet again…

Worse still, his gut freezing as he saw whose still form Neville was carrying….

Hermione. Yet again rendered cold and still.

Had she been hit by a Killing Curse? What if she was…

Was he going to see either of his best friends again?

He was aware of a low, soft voice saying "Hold on Mr Weasley. Relashio," and he could breathe again. He opened his eyes by a crack to see Dumbledore turn from the room with a swish of his cloak, wand aloft and looking more dangerous than Ron had ever seen him before. The room spun, and he collapsed in a dead faint.

But the flow of negative images and thoughts didn't stop. He was no longer in the Department of Mysteries, but being gingerly lifted onto a bed alongside Hermione and Ginny. The latter had recovered almost immediately and informed Ron that the Order had shown up, but Sirius had been murdered, several others injured, and that Harry would likely be going berserk with self-guilt, rage and grief.

Several hours later, he could hear Madam Pomfrey's growing fluster as she kept on administering dozens of potions to the still-unconscious patient to his left, muttering "what the hell hit her? Still so damn close," and "Severe internal bleeding. I don't know how I can treat this one…"

"Ron?"

Ron woke with a shock, still fighting to dislodge the trails of negative thoughts and memories that had penetrated his skin. Nothing had been the same since that brain incident. All of his insecurities, ones that were ridiculous by daylight, had reclaimed his brain overnight yet again.

Gingerly, he reached up to his cheeks, and with a start found that they were wet. Wiping them before Hermione could notice, he turned to the bed to his left which was bathed in soft moonlight.

"You had another one, didn't you?" she asked softly, concern lining every syllable. "Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey to give you more Oblivious Unction?"

The Oblivious Unction was wonderful stuff, really, Ron thought. It had successfully beaten off the flashbacks during daylight at the very least, although the scars were still there. His nightly relapses, worse than any nightmare involving spiders, were proof of what Madam Pomfrey said, that some scarring went deeper than skin.

With a groan, Ron shook his head. He wasn't able to get up and reach his bedside table. Not yet, anyway.

"I think," Hermione said quietly enough so as not to disturb Neville, Luna or Ginny, "you need some more chocolate. Do you need me to get it?"

Ron nodded, only to regret it after he heard a sharp hiss of pain as Hermione's feet made contact with the floor. Walking gingerly, with one hand on the window railing for support, she reached into the packet of Honeydukes Chocolates, and threw one onto Ron's bed.

"You're amazing," Ron mumbled as he wiped the sweat off his face and began unwrapping the chocolate as Hermione gingerly walked back to her own bed. "Since when did you start acting like Professor Lupin and asking me to eat sugary stuff?"

"I'm not my parents," Hermione replied. "Times change, and also…"she shot Ron a side-glance that in the moonlight looked distinctly mischievous, "… you two have been a bad influence on me. Why else do we keep getting injured and having chocolate shoved down our throats by Madam Pomfrey?"

Ron laughed. Hermione's sense of humour wasn't easy to spot, unless you were one of the Trio, but it could be wry, ironic, or painfully sarcastic. It also had the tendency of popping up exactly when Harry's had failed. Certainly he was glad that Hosepipe Hermione hadn't yet made an appearance, given the previous few days' events.

Turning attention to more serious matters, he sighed. "Harry seemed to be better today, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," she agreed, "but it's a front for our sake. Ron, he just lost his last proper family member. How would you make that feel?" Right now, Ron could picture her lip trembling as she said that.

"I wouldn't know," he whispered, trying to pick his words carefully. "But we're his family too. We've always been there for him." Secretly, he shuddered, knowing full-well that that very nearly wasn't the case in the Department of Mysteries. Beside him, he heard Hermione give an audible sniff.

Deciding now might be the time to change the topic slightly, as Ron found it slightly awkward what he'd just uttered, he cast around for a new line of conversation as he started chewing on his chocolate.

'Why though?' he thought to himself. Their bonds were like sibling bonds.

Well, except his and Hermione's, but he'd long since mastered the ability to push that idea to the back of his head. Stupid hormones acting up yet again. Still, it was becoming somewhat harder to not think it might be something else….

Oh, damn. He'd just asked her to get him some chocolate, and he hadn't even given consideration as to how seriously injured she was. She'd obviously been awake and in pain for some time beforehand.

"What about you? You haven't been able to sleep at all, have you?" he asked, some real concern and anxiety injected into his voice.

"No," Hermione admitted, visibly wincing as yet another wave of pain rolled from her ribs, but she seemed to smile slightly all the same. Well, Ron supposed, he wasn't usually the type to go asking questions about feelings and personal wellbeing and whatnot. Maybe she was just slightly pleased that he'd noticed for once…

"It was Dolohov who got me. I silenced him, got distracted, and he cursed me."

Yet another reason to hate Dolohov, Ron thought. He had heard long beforehand, when he was nine, about how his late uncles Gideon and Fabien had been murdered by the very same Death Eater and his four other accomplices, in a most brutal fashion. He shivered as he realized Dolohov's next victim could have been the close friend lying next to him in the Hospital Wing.

"What curse was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey still has no idea, but whatever it was, it was dangerous enough even in-non-verbal form. Severe internal bleeding, and Madam Pomfrey won't even tell me what nearly happened to my ribs."

Ron shuddered again, somewhat regretting asking the question in the first place. He certainly didn't need a reminder of those horrible hours of waiting for her to regain consciousness in the Hospital Wing.

Breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed, there was a rustle of bedcovers, a yell from the far end of the Hospital Wing, and a short, mousy-haired form ran past them, screaming. There was more commotion as Ginny, Luna and Neville woke up too.

The doors to Madam Pomfrey's office flew open with a bang, and Ron and Hermione both lay back into their pillows as if nothing had happened. Madam Pomfrey fixed both of them with a piercing, suspicious glare before turning to Umbridge.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Delores. Go back off to sleep."

"Oh yes," muttered Umbridge in a dazed way that reminded Ron of when he woke from that awful dream of him being forced to tap-dance in front of Aragog in Third Year. "No matter….yes…I'm being silly."

Madam Pomfrey, still muttering darkly as she passed Ron's bed, was clearly in a towering temper over her extra workload taking care of Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the others. Ron swore that as she passed his bed he heard her grumble "Nightmares, no sleep… it's the least that she deserves."

The door slammed shut again.

"All right Ron, Hermione?" Neville muttered sleepily, turning to the clock on his bedside table and yawning.

"It's just Umbridge," Ron said, trying very hard to not snort with laughter. "Go back off to sleep."

Neville nodded, but then Hermione spoke up too.

"You know Neville, I never really thanked you for carrying me around like that when we were all being chased."

Even in the darkness on the other side of the Hospital Wing, Ron could tell Neville had flushed slightly. Meanwhile, he had just been hit with guilt. Was he really so stupid as to get hit by a Confundus Charm so easily? If he hadn't, he could have helped Ginny and Hermione, and also fight some more Death Eaters with Neville, Luna and Harry, including perhaps Dolohov…

"Don't mention it," Neville said quickly, flicking his hand dismissively, and now clearly trying to sleep too.

But then Luna piped up too, in her usual dreamy voice.

"You know Ron, I think Daddy may have already found out the purpose of those brains. He's been doing a full, investigative look into the Department of Mysteries for next month's edition, and he told me that Cornelius Fudge is murdering his opponents and taking out their brains. He plans to use them for psychological warfare against his opponents in the Ministry."

Ron frowned slightly as Hermione let out a derisive snort. Sure, the whole idea of that fat clown of a Minister murdering anybody was balderdash, but the idea that those brains were weapons designed to psychologically destroy a person was hard to dismiss. For instance, why on earth had this bizarre insecurity about Hermione and Harry cropped up now, of all times? Why had his old childhood jealousy of Ginny getting her dinner first resurfaced and strengthened? Why was he now almost certain that he was his mother's least favourite child, forever overshadowed by Ginny, the Twins, Bill, Charlie and Percy?

Yes, he thought, he had most definitely been damaged by that brain.

Then Luna spoke up again.

"And also, remember that locked door we tried to get into?"

"Yeah," Neville murmured, his eyes half-closed. "So what may have been in it?"

"The one thing You-Know-Who doesn't have," said Luna simply.

The Hospital Wing fell silent again as they digested what Luna said, and this time, there was no derisive snorting. Ron felt a prickling sensation, and he swore that Hermione was secretly staring at him right now. He was right now fighting some sort of bizarre urge to make eye-contact with her, but why the urge, he didn't know.

No, said a sly, sneaky voice in his brain. It's more like you don't want to know right now. I think you know why perfectly.

Ron sighed. Great. First, he was worried sick about whether Hermione was going to make it. Next, he was now fighting voices in his head that were trying to tell him that whatever he felt for the girl lying to his left was much, much more than what he'd admit to himself. Something that couldn't be explained away anymore on hormones, and certainly something more powerful than a silly crush.

Thankfully, his mind was snapped away from such thoughts by Ginny's angry voice.

"If you don't mind, can I please go back to sleep? Especially given it's 2 a.m.? You see, I rather appreciate being able to sleep properly now my ankle's fixed."

Ron grinned, trying desperately now to block out the voices in his head which were now growing shriller. Typical Ginny. His sister had a fuse even shorter than his, and that was saying something. The real problem was how to handle it.

As Ginny's angry breathing continued, and as none of the others apologized, Ron began clicking his tongue in the best imitation of stampeding hooves that he could produce, gradually increasing in volume. Four pairs of eyes were staring at him out of the dark, wondering what was going to happen next. Sure enough, as he had hoped, there was another rustle of bedcovers from Umbridge's bed.

"What?" she called out in a panicked manner. "Who's there?" When Ron stopped his clicking and there was no reply, she shivered and sighed, leaning backwards.

The sniggering started from Neville's bed and worked its way to Ron's. He held his stomach in tight, trying not to let a peal of laughter loose. Ginny's frown flickered, and before long, she was sniggering into her pillow herself. He also heard the bedsprings creaking from the bed to his left as Hermione giggled softly in a rather un-Hermione-ish manner.

Trying to keep a straight face, Ron failed utterly, wheezing even more loudly. Hermione was the first to break, letting out a peal of laughter that both Neville and Ginny let out as well. All were clutching their sides with tears of mirth. Ron could hear a tiny snarl come from Umbridge's bed. As the laughter quickly faded into chortles, Ron could hear the venomous whisper come from Umbridge, under the impression no-one was eavesdropping.

"You know….I really hate children."

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Ron muttered as he pulled his sheets back over himself, and turned onto his left side. "Goodnight everyone."

He turned to face Hermione, clutching her ribs in agony as she tried to get her silent laughter under control. "Are you okay?" he asked, unsure whether to be guilty that he'd caused her more pain, or pleased that he'd gotten her to laugh. "Nothing like harassing the old hag at two in the morning."

"If you do that again, Ronald Weasley, I'm going to kill you," she wheezed.

"Wow," Ron whispered, "That's violent for you. I thought you'd be merciful and hand me over to some angry centaurs." He raised an eyebrow sardonically as he finished.

Hermione smiled at the memory, then shivered.

"You know, it was pure luck that Grawp found us. If he hadn't, Harry and I would have been taken as well."

Ron smirked. "And, let me guess, he called you 'Hermy'?"

Hermione gave him a glare that would make a Basilisk drop dead. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No, you're not," she retorted angrily, her voice level rising.

"Goodnight, you two," mumbled Neville; his voice was muffled by his pillow.

Ron realized their mistake, and dropped his voice so only she could hear it. "Not as sorry as I am that you're on like a dozen potions still. You were right all along about You-Know-Who and Sirius, and I simply went with Harry's viewpoint. You could've…"

Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Stop it. I know you never would have let this happen, and it's not your responsibility anyway. Harry's never been wrong about his dreams before, even if I did tell him to close his mind. Although…," she chuckled softly. "We do seem to be coming into the Hospital Wing a whole lot more frequently than strictly necessary."

"Agreed," Ron smiled. Only Hermione could make going into the Hospital Wing sound like a visit to the Three Broomsticks. And given the conversations with her and occasional chit-chat with the DA's other hospitalized members, perhaps the comparison was more valid than he thought.

"That was really clever by the way," he added, with a distinct undertone of awe. Hermione looked at him, slightly puzzled. "I mean, the centaurs. Only Hermione Granger could dream of worrying about her OWLs one minute, and handing her least favourite teacher over to some murderous centaurs next minute. Remind me to never get into your bad books again."

"Of course you will," she whispered, looking rather flattered but amused at the same time. "You're Ron Weasley after all. Also…" she adopted a more steely voice "…it shows what happens when wizards don't treat other creatures as their equal."

"True," Ron said, rolling his eyes. The last thing he needed now was to be subjected to a tirade about house-elf rights. He looked out the window to the grounds, now bathed in a silvery glow. "I remember when we were last in here, all three of us, I mean, and I remember how different Harry was. I mean, once you two had done your thing with the Time-Turner, and saved Sirius and Buckbeak, we felt like we were on top of the world. Now…." Another sigh. "My best mate hardly interacts with us anymore. I don't think he sleeps very much either."

There was a creaking as Hermione slowly got up from her bed and approached his. She sat on the end of it, and considered him for a moment.

"You know what I said to Harry just before he went through the fire to fight Quirrell?" she finally began slowly. Ron shook his head, thinking of the way Harry had completely retreated into his shell over the last few days. She fixed him with an unusually intense stare, then continued. "That there are truly important things in life, far more than OWL grades, for example. Don't give me that look," she chided as Ron comically dropped his mouth open. "I mean friendship and bravery. It's what drove us to fight that night, and it's something that will never change, no matter how many people Harry has lost."

Ron looked down at his sheets, then nodded. However, perhaps driven by his flashback, another insecurity rose.

"But Hermione, I didn't go with you and Harry and the Time-Turner. I barely fought the other night, I snapped at him in Fourth Year, and I couldn't stop shaking when Harry dragged me into the Forest to meet Aragog. I don't consider those loyal and brave actions."

A familiar wave of frustration and pity washed over her face.

"For goodness sake Ron, are you saying that you're not loyal and brave? I mean, your leg was broken when we did the Time-Turner. Now then," she adopted her most sarcastic voice possible. "Oh….let me see…there was the time when you gave yourself up on the chessboard for Harry and I. You've nearly always tried to curse Malfoy whenever he insults me, you also visited me in the Hospital Wing when I was Petrified, and despite your phobia you still went into the Forest with Harry."

At the mention of the Hospital Wing, Ron could swear that he saw her cheeks flush very slightly. Probably just an optical illusion, he reasoned, even as his own ears warmed up slightly. But Hermione was nowhere near finished.

"You helped Hagrid and I with Buckbeak's case, you stood up to a convicted mass murderer, and you always had Harry's back even when that evil woman started making him cut open his own hand. And you fought in the Ministry against Death Eaters. If that isn't bravery and loyalty, I don't know what is."

Now it was Ron's turn to blush, and feel more than a little guilty, when the Buckbeak case was mentioned. He'd ignored Hermione and treated her as though she were part of the furniture for weeks, and then she'd tearfully hugged him when he agreed to help. It was still embarrassing to think about. Although now when he looked back on it, he didn't actually mind the hug…

Hermione's tirade still wasn't quite finished however as her voice began to rise in pitch.

"Bravery isn't being fearless Ron. It's about conquering your fears, and you did that in Second Year. How many students would willingly walk into a lair of giant spiders, just so that no-one else would be harmed by the Basilisk?"

Finally, Ron got it, and he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted- she thought he was brave. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was just being pathetic."

"No, you weren't," she snapped back. "It's a legitimate concern, even if it is totally unfounded."

Silenced stretched on, as Ron heard Neville's snores begin to fill the Hospital Wing again, and other snores told him that Luna and Ginny had fallen asleep too. However, he really wasn't feeling sleepy yet- he was still terrified of what he might face in his dreams again, and judging from the occasional wince from Hermione, she needed the talk as much as he did, to distract her from her injuries.

Questions that he never would have dreamt asking her in public, or even alone together in broad daylight, began to float around his mind. Before he could stop it, a question about one of this school year's mysteries was tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop. She hadn't given one to Harry, but he had been given one…

"Why did you kiss me? Before the match?"

He thought he heard a sharp intake of breath. Whatever subject she'd been expecting, it hadn't been that one.

"Oh, um…" she began in a hesitant tone. "Well, you looked thoroughly miserable before the game, and... you needed cheering up. It was my way of wishing you luck." Her face was currently turned away from his, so he couldn't judge her facial expression. He somehow really needed to know whether this was a gesture of support, or…something else.

"Oh," he said, sounding more stupid than ever. "Well….thanks, I suppose."

He noticed however that Hermione was smiling in his general direction rather shyly, playing with her hands and refusing to make eye contact. Were his eyes playing tricks with him again, or was she trying to gauge his reaction? That possibility would be truly terrifying.

"Well…if that's your idea of a thank you, I guess I never really thanked you for…that perfume over Christmas. I…I said it was unusual, but in that it was unusually nice."

Rn suddenly felt as if the temperature had risen several degrees in just seconds. She hadn't just said that, surely not? Hermione was now refusing to look up at all as she continued examining her fingernails.

"I mean, I never got the opportunity to thank you, because of Harry and his dreams, and I didn't think it would be right to say it when you were so stressed, not when your dad was still recovering…"

A small feeling of euphoria shot through Ron's veins at that last comment. Forget about her occasional letters to Krum- she'd really liked his special present. Try riding your Firebolt past that one Vicky, he thought waspishly. However, his heart was now pounding loudly against his chest, and was surprised no-one else in the Hospital Wing was hearing it.

At that, Hermione gave a great yawn, and made to get up, but let out another gasp.

"No!" Ron whispered frantically. "Do you need assistance?"

"I'll manage it on my…" she began, but Ron had already thrown the covers off, and got up.

"Here. Just hold onto my arm, and walk nice and slowly. That's it," he encouraged, as Hermione wobbled violently, but stayed upright, while he tried to ignore the tingling in his right arm.

When she'd finally reached her bed, she reached down and gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Anytime," he whispered back, letting her hand go slightly faster than was perhaps necessary. "What is it with us and the Hospital Wing?"

"I don't know," she agreed, "but I bet you anything it'll be your turn next," giving him a slightly cheeky grin- one that, to his knowledge, he'd never seen when she was with Harry...

"Maybe," Ron chuckled. He really did like the way Hermione was still able to joke in these circumstances.

"And Ron?"

"Yes?" He saw Hermione was biting her lip, looking once again apprehensive.

"Don't tell Harry about the extent of my injury, or your nightmares. You know how he's on such a knife-edge."

"I'd never dream of it. I'm glad we talked, though."

"Me too," she smiled as she rolled over, the moonlight falling on her brown curls.

There was a sudden 'hem hem' from somewhere in the dark. Ron and Hermione both jumped, looking around for the source. It was impossible to see who it may have been, but Ron had a sneaking suspicion that the source may have been someone other than Umbridge.

Like Ginny, for instance.

Deciding that staring at Hermione right now was a bit of a give-away, Ron shuffled back to his bed, and hopped into it. Far from being the suffocating prison it was half an hour ago, the sheets now felt soft and welcoming.

"Goodnight Hermione."

"Goodnight Ron. Sleep well."

Hermione was right after all, he thought. Talking really was the best therapy. The scars were still there of course, but in time, they would heal. In how long, he didn't know, but they would heal.

Feeling the most contented he'd been since he arrived in the Hospital Wing, Ron closed his eyes and knew that unlike before, this time his dreams would be pleasant.