The young woman woke suddenly, still seated next to the hospital bed where her friend lay sleeping. She had not left his side, though he had been slowly recovering from the injuries he had sustained and had not awoken from his sleep-like state for the past three months. She could see his untidy mop of ginger hair as it splayed across his face while he slept, wondering when he would recover enough to be let out of his perpetual sleep.

Ron Weasley had been injured during the final siege of Lord Voldemort and his infamous supporters, the so-called Death Eaters. It was in this same battle that her other friend, Harry Potter, had given his all to save the world from the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, there was hardly time to grasp this fact before Harry's life was snuffed out while trying to protect this same young woman from a Death Eater, who launched a wild attack towards her as he gasped his final breath.

Hermione Granger, running her fingers through her bushy brown hair, could no longer shed any tears at the thought of this. She stood up from her post beside Ron's bed and began walking toward the window. The world outside was still mourning the loss of Harry Potter, once known as "The Boy Who Lived"; she was mourning the loss of one of her best friends. But she was mourning more than that, for Ron was mourning his best friend as well.

Hermione had a secret; a secret she had been hiding for quite some time. Most of her friends and schoolmates had thought she had feelings for Ron, and, for a time, she had thought so as well. However, as the events of the last few years unfolded, especially after she had known the details of the prophecy, she realized that what she had taken for as just a deep friendship with Harry was more than that. It didn't compare at all to what she had with Ron, which was far more like a brother/sister relationship. Nor could she say it was merely a sudden, impulsive thing like infatuation. No, she finally had to admit, more to herself than anyone, that she had fallen in love with Harry. The tragedy in all of this was that before his untimely death, she never got the chance to tell him the truth, nor anyone else for that matter.

It was eating at her from the inside: the guilt, the pain the anger at herself for not daring to admit the truth. She thought she was protecting him in someway, not giving the other side another weapon to use against him. She had also been afraid that the feeling would not be shared. As the events that had brought about Harry's demise had shown, nothing could have been further from the truth. For when he had dove to protect Hermione from the attack that was surely meant for her, she saw the near panic in his eyes, the utter concern for her well-being, and the relief as he had been hit that at least she would survive. She had rushed to his side, hoping against hope that his life had not been snuffed out, that he could live, and she could confess her love to him, to the world. But as she cradled his head, and looked into his eyes, he met her gaze and gasped, "I love you, Hermione. I guess I always have. I couldn't just let you die. Forgive me…." Those were the last words she heard from the most famous wizard the world had ever known.

While she may have once been called the "cleverest witch of her age," she didn't feel it. Anger welled up inside her again as she thought of the pain that Voldemort and his minions had caused: the countless deaths of innocents, the families torn apart because of the Death Eaters, the lives laid to waste all in the name of "power" or "cleansing". She had to do something about it, about the anger that had been building for the past three months. She had mulled the facts over and over in her mind, until it had become an almost constant drone. She needed to face the ones who had done this to Harry, to the wizarding and Muggle world…to her. She had to go to Azkaban, to confront the last known living Death Eater: Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy, it seemed, had survived by a means that really surprised no-one. Since he had not gotten directly involved with any of the Muggle attacks, nor had he done anything that was specifically illegal; he had, however, aided, helped, and otherwise facilitated some of the most heinous crimes committed by the Death Eaters. He had always been right beside his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, as she had tortured and eventually murdered many, Muggle and wizard alike. And Malfoy had been seen taking great pleasure in the suffering caused by his cousin and the rest of the Death Eaters. It was on this fact alone that Lucius Malfoy was convicted and sent to Azkaban.

During his trial, he tried, once again, to claim that he had been put under the controlling influence of the Imperius Curse. That, however, was only a half-hearted claim, knowing that few would have believed him, many stating the old Muggle proverb: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

As Hermione was thinking how best to get to Azkaban, and how best to confront Lucius Malfoy, she heard Ron stirring in his bed. This represented a breakthrough for his condition. She hurried over to his bed and immediately called for the Healer on staff.

"Ron," Hermione asked tentatively. "Ron? Can you hear me?"

The Healer hurried into the room, brusquely pushing Hermione aside.

"What's happening?" she asked as the Healer quickly assessed the situation.

"He's finally coming to. Blimey, it's been a long time. We'll be better able to assess his condition now, but I must ask you to leave until we've had a chance to examine him. Shoo! Off you get…"

Hermione stood back as the healer busied herself looking Ron over. She waited anxiously to hear the results, but the healer-in-training, who had just entered the room, ushered her unceremoniously out the ward doors.

When she arrived in the hallway outside the ward, she was surprised, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ron's parents, still waiting outside. Molly looked as if she hadn't slept for weeks, which she may well not have, and Arthur seemed several years older, and more of his pate shone as more of his fiery red hair left his head due to the stress of the past few years. Arthur was the first to notice that Hermione had left the hospital wing and turned immediately toward her and looked with a hopeful look.

"He's awake," said Hermione bluntly and saw Molly shudder as elated sobbing gripped her body.

The color flooded back into Arthur's face as a noticeable look of release filled his face, as if he had been holding his breath for the full two months Ron had been in his coma. Molly gave a great sigh of relief as the news of his awakening made it through her shocked brain. The news seemed to have been both shocking and welcome.

Molly had started to rise, apparently looking to rush into the room to see her son, when Hermione stopped her.

"The Healers are with him now, but they're not letting anyone in just yet. They've yet to examine him to see how far he's come, so they just shoved me out," she said with some hesitancy. "I don't think they'll let anyone in just yet. Perhaps it's for the best if we just remain here until they come to get us."

Molly at first looked stricken by Hermione's words, but then softly nodded her head, her eyes already red from her tears of joy. Hermione knew she couldn't comprehend the depths of longing Molly had to be feeling to have her son returned to her. And frankly, she felt it difficult to even try. A good friend had just come back, and for that she was grateful, but how could she tell Ron how things had changed?