Harry Potter isn't mine.

Inspired by that little dance scene at the movie. I think I will read some Harry/Hermione fics from now on...

[Relax] - a tent scene

"Harry, wake up." Hermione's voice had been nothing but worry these days. Her humor had run as soon as Ron (unspeakable) had disapparated several days ago.

Harry's glasses were cold when he put them on. The first thing he heard (after Hermione's humorless tone) was his own groan.

It was all too quiet. He needed to pee.

"Morning," he mumbled, making sure to keep the bed covers on top of the bed this time. His dreams were getting to his increasing sullenness, added to Hermione's quick temper and oscillating moods. Overall, Harry surmised that things were about to get gloomy. If Ron had thought he wasn't needed, well, as always, he thought wrong.

He passed Hermione with a sidelong glance, and he silently registered her tired body slumping over his bed (it was still warm, after all) before he stepped out.

Harry almost missed the Dursleys. He'd been thinking of them lately, though he had no reason to. He supposed it was because they were his only family left, and he hated thinking how he'd abandoned even a sliver of what he'd always wanted. Even if it had been a particularly nasty cut of the cake.

The sun broke out, and Harry was still outside when he thought of a particularly painful memory. It was of him and Ginny, by the lake (and in his mind, there was only that lake). He'd wanted to protect her, to keep her from further harm. And now she was in Hogwarts. With Snape and Malfoy and all the others they were supposed to avoid.

Harry got up then, and went inside. Nobody was coming today. He didn't even know if that's what he feared anymore.

He walked in to find Hermione asleep, on top of the blankets. Harry tried to wrap the blanket around her, but only half-succeeded.

Frustrated by the tangle of her legs with the sheets, Harry sat beside her socked feet.

He thought of Ginny again. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; it was just that believing in her that was difficult. He had to believe she was fine, and ignore the gigantic worry that came along with that tiny hope. Was she thinking of him? Was she thinking of what he was thinking?

Hermione's legs moved, and Harry carefully scooted to the edge of the bed. But she'd woken, her eyes not sleepy anymore. She sat up.

She smiled.

Harry stared at her. "Hi," he said, his throat a bit scratchy. They hadn't spoken much since Ron left.

Hermione looked at her feet. "Hi."

The silence stretched, and Harry felt a bit awful. Their moods were terrible these days.

He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling, Hermione?"

"Fine," she breathed. She still didn't look at him. "Did... is anything wrong?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't want to lie, and neither did he want to sound negative by saying that yes, something was very wrong. He edged closer to his friend by first propping his feet beside hers. She made room by tucking her knees to her chest.

"He's really gone, isn't he?" she said softly, looking only at her hands as she spoke.

Then her eyes held his, and that did something.

He felt angry, sad, and lonely, and he wanted to take it out on someone; and he got sorry because he wasn't about to be a good friend.

His nostrils flared. "Yes, Hermione, he left. The bastard—"

She gasped.

"Wasn't very much keen on this type of life. He left. We pushed him away. He's delusional. Might as well be dead, for all I care—"

"Harry!"

"What, Hermione? He hurt you, I know, he hurt me, too!" He was about to continue but he saw Hermione's eyes water.

Please take the tears back, he prayed uselessly.

Harry wanted to apologize. More than that, he wanted to comfort her. But all that came out was an obligatory "Sorry."

A few more moments and both became absorbed in their respective thoughts.

Hermione was strong. Stronger than he was, he supposed. Someday he'd have to pay her back for every thing she'd done for him. He'd remember every little thing until he paid her back. The tears slid from the corners of her eyes to the blanket on her knee.

"Hermione," he said. "Look, I really am sor—"

"I knew what I signed up for, OK? Stop thinking I'm against you, or that I expected you to have all the answers," she said, irritated. "You've been my best friend for years, but you've never trusted me the way you trusted h-him." She huffed, then her voice changed. "If I'd been the one who left, if Ron had stayed, would you feel the same way you feel now?"

"Of course I would!" he automatically answered, destroying her self-consciousness. He hoped. "Hermione, I couldn't do this without you."

"But you were going to do this without me. You were going to leave, that first night." She blinked. "That's exactly what you were doing."

Harry paused. "Well, I was stupid. I need you, and I know that now." He gestured to everything around him.

She bit her lip. "We miss Ron," she said, with some finality.

"Yes."

"That was a bastard thing to do," she added.

"It was," he said.

Then he scooted beside her and they hugged. For the second time since a long time, he was grateful for her staying. He wanted to say thank you, or maybe even hug her more tightly, but he didn't mostly because he didn't want her to feel that he was very very sad, too. He wanted to be the strong one now.

"Promise me you won't leave me, Harry," she whispered quickly, as if she were ashamed to ask.

"I promise," he said. He felt her arms go tightly about his neck, clutching his (badly cut) hair.

He didn't ask her the same promise, partly because he completely trusted her, and partly because he still wanted her to leave, to risk Ron's life instead of hers.

"You're amazing, Hermione," he whispered. "And Ron would never leave you. He left me, OK? He didn't leave you." He was just a proud prick, who thought you'd go with him.

She shook her head. She was crying and smiling and arguing with him at the same time, and the mixture made Harry fully concentrate on her. He smelled her perfume, and felt her long hair, and felt her less than warm skin.

Her hand went to his cheek, and Harry blushed at being caressed like that. She looked at him with wistful eyes.

"The fact is, he left. He left us because he wanted security. As he should." She closed her eyes, leaning against him. He felt her, felt her slightly shake and control herself.

Slowly, Hermione's fingers tugged on the Horcrux around Harry's neck. He'd forgotten it was there. She watched. The locket fell with a ching and a thud on the ground.

Then their legs were right next to each other's. Harry rubbed her calf and ankle.

Quiet. It was too quiet. Without the depressing radio and the static that inevitably accompanied it. Harry looked at Hermione, and the sadness was edging in her expression. She looked exactly how he felt: torn and bloody confused. Dismantled.

And, just for a stretch, he speculated, "We'll do this. Just the two of us."

She chuckled. He didn't like the sarcasm in it. Too much scoff and too little humor. "Yeah, I guess we will." Her arm tightened at the back of his neck. Harry clearly saw the tears at the corners of her brown eyes.

"You look so worried," he whispered, without meaning to. He couldn't avoid her shiny eyes.

"I love him." Desperate, pleading, confused. They were never sure anymore.

"And he loves you," he assured her. "He's just being a prat. You know Ron."

A few more minutes they didn't speak, just breathed slowly. They were relaxed now. Hermione settled against him, and, though it was comforting, the weight again made Harry realize just what he could lose. He'd already lost a lot, for someone who started out with nothing.

Hermione snuggled closer. Harry almost felt himself cry. But he smiled, relishing this moment with his one true friend.