Hermione gently soaked a handful of cloth bandages in the picturesque river. It had occurred to her to clean the cloth by magic, but it was strangely comforting to do things the muggle way. Maybe it reminded her of her parents. Mosquitoes buzzed around her, nipping at her soft, exposed shoulders. Impatiently, she tugged her white knit sweater back over her shoulder. Sighing, she surveyed her surroundings. A protective barrier distorted the images beyond her circle of safety. Directly behind her, a large canvas tent opened, revealing Harry.

Hermione tried not to be disappointed that it was Harry instead of Ron, her beloved, eternally confused best friend. Or perhaps more than a best friend. It had, at least, seemed that way at Grimmauld Place, when he had held her while she struggled not to cry, whispering reassuring promises into her ear.

"I'm going to find food. If I'm not back soon, don't bother looking for me. Apparate to the Burrow," Harry said bluntly. Hermione nodded silently, watching him trudge into the distance. For a few moments, she stayed still, pondering what she might be doing had she returned to Hogwarts. The taste of roast beef stung her tongue, and she smiled wistfully. Was it still possible to call of this hunt, and return to writing essays, the biggest worry being whether or not her letter by owl actually reached home? Subconsciously, she knew the answer, but she still liked to think that she had options.

Satisfied that the strips of burlap were clean enough, she scurried into the tent, straightening once the small mouth of the tent gave way to the enlarged room. Ron lounged on his bed, tinkering with a muggle pocketknife she'd given him. Even through his thick sweater, Hermione could see the blood soaking through the bandages, causing her to wince.

"Ron," she called softly. His face brightened considerably when he saw her, but even then, he could still only muster a weak smile. Her eyes trailed down his form to the locket swinging off his neck. "Let me have a turn," she insisted, reaching for it. He flinched away.

"No. I'm not weak, Hermione. I can do my part." She sighed, but didn't protest, instead sitting by him on his bed, and holding up the damp towels. Knowingly, Ron tugged off his shirt revealing the bloody bandages. Tenderly, Hermione unwrapped them.

"Harry's gone to get food," she explained in order to break the silence. Ron's face darkened.

"I could've done it," he defended himself.

"That's noble of you, but you're not going anywhere until I'm positive you are completely healed. And these bandages say otherwise," she smiled at him.

Ron frowned. Despite the attention he was receiving, he felt so helpless. Harry never would have splinted. And now Ron had made himself look like a little boy to this goddess. Why would she love him? How could she? Harry had always been perfect at apparating, perfect at school, perfect at everything. All Ron would ever be was a burden.

"Don't you think this all a bit ridiculous?," he asked mutinously, glaring at the mouth of the tent. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Ronald, we both know that this is what we agreed to…," she said cautiously. Ron snorted.

"You're telling me that you went in thinking we'd just be sitting in a tent this entire time? The only thing we've found so far is mounds of Grawp's family's dung," he spat. Hermione giggled despite herself.

"Shh," she urged, nudging him playfully. "Harry will be back soon." Ron smirked at her caution.

"You have to admit, it was a bit ridiculous. 'Oi, guys, look! Yes, I remember that You-Know-Who was pooped on by a giant as a child, leading to his uncontrollable anger… Of course the Horcrux would be hidden here!,'" Ron imitated. "He nearly pissed himself with excitement when he saw it." Hermione pursed her lips to hold in the laughter.

"You shouldn't be saying that about your best friend," she scolded him uselessly.

"'Ah, yes, this one is nice and large. Something like that would certainly make the Dark Lord angry! Start digging!'" At Hermione's warning looked, Ron restrained his laughter too, smiling at his best friend. His blue eyes shone with a happiness that felt alien to him. Harry had never made Hermione laugh like this. Harry had never-

"Guys? Are you ready for dinner?" Immediately, Hermione sprang into action, quickly binding Ron's wound.

"Of course, Harry, that fish looks brilliant." Ron scowled to himself. Harry once again.

A/N: I wasn't crazy about that myself, but I thought it was good enough… Review!