Disclaimer: I've been trying for years to trade JKR my most worldly possessions (an old cup of milk, a big button, and a brand new pair of socks) but she still wont give me the rights to Harry Potter!

A/N: I thought of this when my Dad came home with a bee sting and came right down to write it! I hope you enjoy. Just a tiny little piece of fluff! I hope I everyone gets the ending.

Ironic, Isn't It?
One Shot

'Harry?' Hermione poked her head through the crack in the door. He was sitting on the window ledge, arm propped up on his bent knee. She knew she was interrupting something, but ever since the funeral there hadn't been a moment when speaking to Harry wasn't interrupting his thoughts. He'd been quiet and had kept to himself ever since they'd returned from the Dursleys, back to the Burrow for the wedding.

He didn't answer and she took a tentative step into the room. 'Harry?' she repeated, her voice soft and comforting. 'Mrs. Weasley wanted me to come up here and let you know that lunch will be ready soon. She wants us to wash up ...'

Again there was no response and she took another step forward. His back stayed to her, seeming not to have heard her. Hermione let out a quiet sigh, her eyes dropping to the ground, focusing on her shoes.

'Harry ...' again she trailed off, unsure how to approach the situation. Both her and Ron had done their best to seem supportive of their friend but nothing seemed to be helping. His temper always seemed ready to go off and so they treaded lightly around him, never pushing hard than necessary.

Now, though, Hermione could sense that his temper was at rest and in it's place, something much worst had been set down. He was alone with his thoughts, and that, quite possibly, was even worse than his angry shouts.

She moved further into the room, stopping at his side by the window. He didn't acknowledge her, but he didn't shot her a glare, either, and so she knew she hadn't crossed the invisible line that had been drawn since they left Hogwarts.

He continued to stare out the window and she stood silent by his side. She'd quickly learned that asking him direct questions when he was in a state of deep thought would get her no where, he tended to tune everything around him out, often not hearing her at all. So she took to staring out the window in hopes that her presence would be enough for him right then.

Outside, the window framed Fred and George who were setting down a long table on the grass. Tonks and Ginny bringing out glasses and plates, Mrs. Weasley bustling in and out of the kitchen's back door and Ron sitting on the green, legs sprawled out in front of him, watching the trees blow softly in the wind. She rolled her eyes at him as he sat, leaving the work up to the rest of them. It wasn't hard, though, to figure out which of the redheads Harry was watching.

Her gaze drifted back to Ginny who was listening to Tonks' recount of a conversation she'd had with Fleur about china patterns, the breeze tangling strands of red hair around her face.

Since the three of them had arrived at the Burrow, Harry and Ginny had acted perfectly pleasant. They talked as if nothing had ever changed; as if they hadn't spent one of the most peaceful years of their lives together, as if they hadn't been together at all, and therefore had never broken it off. But it wasn't hard to see that when everything wasn't as pleasant as they pretended it to be. Whenever Harry watched her from across the dinner table, seemingly unnoticed by anyone else, the sadness and loss of Ginny in his life was clearly evident in his eyes.

It was a tough topic to approach and neither Hermione nor Ron knew the best way to bring it up and Harry never did, so the topic went untouched by the three of them.

'I've lost her,' he muttered under his breath, startling Hermione. She'd thought he was in one of his trances and hadn't expected him to speak up.

She wasn't quite sure if his comment had been directed to her or just a general statement murmured to the room, so she stood beside him, watching the framed portrait of the backyard.

Finally, though, she decided that whether his words had been spoken for her or not, he'd spoken them and deserved an answer. 'You don't have to, Harry ...'

Again, a long pause, and then 'I do. I'm no good for her.'

She let out a sad sigh and they both continued to watch the progress of the table being set. 'You might not be good for her, Harry, but she wants you,' an inhale of breath, 'don't you think she knows how bad you are for her? And yet she still wants you.'

He fell silent again and she could tell the conversation was over. No matter how she argued, she could never justify Harry putting Ginny in danger; she knew that. She stood by his side awhile longer before she let out another sad sigh.

Tonks and Ginny were heading back into the kitchen for more cutlery and the red head's eyes glanced up, catching his. He didn't look away, even as her eyes turned soft and helpless, sadness filling them completely.

Hermione whispered in a soft voice, 'bees sting to protect themselves, but in the end it kills them. Ironic, isn't it?'