Author's Note: This story takes place in the Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince movie. I have forgotten the Harry Potter book series and am now re-reading it, but I must confess I'm only on chapter eleven of the fifth book. I got this idea when they completely cut the hospital scene and went to the breakfast scene.

I don't own the characters, the hospital scene in the first two lines, or the breakfast scene in the Great Hall. That belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Entertainment.

I should've mentioned that in my other story, "She Couldn't Help Herself" shouldn't I? Whoops.

Well, enjoy!

"Her..." Ron mumbled sleepily. "'Mion..." Lavender's eyes were shining exceedingly bright in an instant as she shook her head in disbelief. "Her...Mione..."

It all happened very fast after that.

Lavender fled the room wailing, Dumbledore escorted everyone out, and Hermione was left alone with Harry and Ron.

She blinked and sat down on the bed, taking his hand cautiously. This seemed to be the right thing to do, because Harry gave her a smug, triumphant smile before walking out of the room.

She took a deep breath, calming herself. He was asleep, there was no one around, and she could lose her composure for a little bit.

Staring down at him, she let all her brick walls fall. She had built them up so high after that night of the Quidditch match, fearing another "Oppugno" moment. He deserved that one though, she thought bitterly. He should've realized that damned Lavender was a brainless git.

She brushed his vibrant hair out of his closed eyes briefly, trying her best not to actually touch him. She didn't understand how he could bear being with Lavender—of all girls—and actually seem happy about it. It was one thing if Ron was dating someone like Katie or Angelina, but Lavender...Lavender was everything she wasn't, right down to the reading lists.

Was she really that much of an insufferable know-it-all that Ron would snog a girl that liked skirts and bows and...Professor Trelawney?

But he said her name! He muttered her name in front of everybody, even Professor Snape could vouch for that fact! She'd rather him not though, because she'd imagine Ron's ears would invent a new shade of red if he did. It had to mean something that he said her too long name instead of his snog-happy girlfriend's.

Hermione rested her head against his warm wrist, frustrated beyond defeat. She was tempted to hit him with Hogwarts, A History right about now, like she usually did when she was angry with him. It'd definitely make her feel better, to be completely honest. She expected Madam Pomfrey would be so angry with her though that she would never let her back into the hospital wing again, even if she was Petrified.

She gave a huge sigh, inhaling the strange scent of freshly mowed grass and aged vanilla. There was a touch of ginger, but that was from Mrs. Weasley washing their clothes.

"It just adds a dash of flavor to the world, ginger does." She had said when Ron asked her what that scent was ages ago.

The sun was setting by now, the red-hot rays of dying light warming her back. Before she knew what was happening she was dreaming of a ginger-flavored butterbeer and vanilla ice cream float, something she swore to herself she would make one of these days.

"Right hard sleeper, that girl is." He heard Madam Pomfrey say somewhat testily from somewhere in the shadows.

"She cares about the boy Poppy, just let her be. She's not bothering anyone." Dumbledore said calmingly, trying to sooth the haughty nurse. "She's the best-behaved visitor you've had in ages, come now. Let's have a butterbeer with Minerva and enjoy the holidays." Footsteps were heard then, dying away as the two walked out of the hospital wing.

Ron lay there, taking in his surroundings with what senses he could use. He could hear quite well, as had just been demonstrated to him. He could feel something solid pressing into his hip. It wasn't painful, just odd. His hand felt sweaty and constricted, and then he realized he was holding something. It felt like another hand, but whose he couldn't be sure.

Besides the too-clean scent of the hospital wing he could smell something fresh, like freshly laundered clothes. If it weren't for the complimenting smell of hot ink and freshly unrolled parchment he would've assumed it was just the bed sheets. That smell, however, was something he had been trying to smother himself with for weeks whenever he could get a mere whiff of it.

Hermione,

He struggled to open his eyes, just to make sure his mind wasn't deceiving him like it's done so many times before. He didn't realize at first when he did actually manage to regain his sight because the late night was so dark, the only faint sliver of moonlight falling across his bed illuminated that something that was pressed against his hip in the eeriest of ways. Her face was glowing in a silvery sort of way, and he was reminded of the silver sheen that Veela hair took on whenever it moved. Her slightly parted lips moved a lone curl that hung in front of her face with each exhale of breath, letting it float up feebly before falling back over her nose. He took his other hand—not wanting to untangle their fingers—and brushed the strand out of her face. He stared down at her, his fingers brushing against her cheek lightly. He couldn't believe that it was her, in the flesh, here, instead of Lavender. He wondered if Lavender had been in to visit him, but then realized he really didn't want her to. He only wanted his 'Mione, and here she was.

She groaned quietly, her eyes fluttering open. He felt his ears go red as he quickly pulled his hand away from her, but not quick enough. She grabbed his other hand with her own free one and held it, leaning into it as she pressed it against her cheek.

"You almost left me," she murmured. "You almost left me forever." She closed her eyes again, and he thought she went back to sleep. "Do that again and I'll put a permanent sticking charm on a book and attach it to your hands."

"'Mione," he said, grinning. "'Mione, come 'ere." She looked up at him before tentatively climbing onto his bed. He wrapped his arms around her, sighing happily and bringing her closer to him. "I love you 'Mione,"

She laughed, pressing her hand against his chest for some distance. "You've still got some medication in you, Ronald."

"I know," He said dreamily, smiling down at her again. "Just know I love you, okay?" He kissed her forehead, resting his lips there.

There was a brief moment of silence before she heard his snores again. She laughed quietly to herself, looking up at him and giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

"I love you, too Ronald."

She slipped out of his warm embrace reluctantly and padded back to the Gryffindor tower, hoping that this confession would change something between them. Maybe he would ask her to be his girlfriend now; it was something she could only hope for as she fell asleep in her bed.

When she walked into the Great Hall she was elated to see her two boys stuffing their faces with breakfast. She sat down next to Ron and opened her paper, determined not to make the first move.

"Tell me how I broke up with Lavender again," he suddenly asked her. She put her paper down and started at him before taking a deep breath, her heart clenching painfully.

"Well, when she came to the hospital you sort of...talked." She glanced at Harry anxiously. "Err; it wasn't a very long conversation..."

"Don't get me wrong," he said, looking over Harry shoulder for the umpteenth time. "I'm happy to be short of her, it's just...she looks sort of, put out, doesn't she?"

The three of them looked over at the enraged Lavender, almost bending her golden spoon in half. They looked back at each other.

"So, you mean to say you don't remember anything...at all?" Hermione asked fearfully, her heart racing. Ron looked down at his hands nervously, his ears turning pink.

"Well, there was one thing...but I was completely boggled last night, wasn't I?" He asked with an uneasy laugh. Hermione fingered the corner of her paper, avoiding her friends' gazes.

"Right...boggled."