Hermione didn't know what she was doing here. She didn't belong – not like Ron did, after Fred, or Harry did, after Lupin. She wasn't here for anyone – she hadn't even felt that it was necessary for her to go. She had just gone because everyone expected her to go. Now that she was here, she wished she wasn't. She was too out of place. It would have been better for her to stay away, where she could be unemotional by herself. She was just in the way.
A noisy gulp of air made her look to her left. That tear stained, red face was why she was here. Ron.