Disclaimer: If I owned HP, a scene akin to this would've somehow been in the actual sixth book. And it would've been more well-written, too.
He finally woke up, feeling stuffy and sweaty, and saw Hermione staring at him intently.
His initial reaction was self-consciousness, as she was staring intently upon a version of himself that was, as previously stated, stuffy-feeling and sweaty. He grinned sheepishly.
His next reaction was a classic where-am-I-and-for-that-matter-why-am-I-where-I-am? that could have been efficiently analyzed and somewhat answered had he looked at his surroundings (cots, magical ointments, Madame Pomfrey yelling at quickly-retreating people) and reflected on his last memories (awaking from an unfortunate haze caused by an equally unfortunate love potion, hastily inhaling mead given to him by Professor Slughorn, painpainpain, his surroundings growing sharp and eventually black) and drawn simple conclusions (ex. Ah. I must have been poisoned. Gosh.). Of course he, being Ron Weasley, did none of these things and instead said (quite intelligently, it may be added),
"What the bloody hell happened?"
Hermione had opened her mouth to explain (which was all she really did, really, explain this and explain that) when he realized that, oh yeah, they were fighting at the moment, weren't they?
So he cut her unvoiced explanation off to voice his third (and surprised, though not entirely unpleasant-feeling) reaction, which was,
"And why are you here?"
Her mouth was still open and she shut it with a snap, looking furious (only to re-open it).
"Is that the thanks I get for waiting patiently for you to wake up?" she said stiffly.
"Well, yeah," Ron said, confused. "What happened? Did you send your psycho birds after me again, then?"
SLAP. Ron was dumbfounded when he felt a sudden stinging sensation across his face, and all the more dumbfounded when a tearful Hermione was suddenly in him arms, enveloping him in a rather tight (and rather wet) embrace.
"I was so worried," she sniffed into his arm. "Someone had poisoned the mead that Slughorn gave you, we think someone was trying to kill Harry or Dumbledore…or…or…someone…and if Harry hadn't found that bezoer…"
" 'sno good if I die now from lack of air," he suggested stupidly, and rather regretted it as Hermione let go of him and sat up, a blush creeping across her face.
It was interesting to watch the apples of her cheeks turn red, he noted idly, and to see her now-straight teeth bite her lower lip, and to look at her eyes, wood-brown and a bit sparkly-like because of the whole crying thing…
It was perhaps not overly surprising that he, too, was red by the time he realized her blush had turned angry, and that Hermione herself had turned angry (again).
"And you thought I would put you here!"
She said the words loudly and stood up, and Ron barely registered Madame Pomfrey clicking her tongue in annoyance.
"And," she continued, "and you obviously don't want me here, so I'm going to go finish studying for an important Arithmancy exam-"
"Oh, come off it," Ron said shakily.
"-And perhaps fetch dear Lavender Brown, because I suppose you'd much rather be visited by her than by me…"
Horror unexpectedly filled Ron's veins as he realized something else had slipped his mind. He and Lavender were still going out, weren't they? Shite.
He consecutively realized that Hermione was still talking, and he tuned in again as she spun on her heel and began a steely stride towards the door. "For that matter," she was saying, "the poison didn't reach your legs, did it, so you can hop on out of bed and fetch her yourself, though I doubt you'll be able to muster the energy to give her your customary greeting-"
"Not in my hospital wing," Madame Pomfrey said sharply, and Ron resented her listening in (along with the fact that she knew how Ron and Lavender customarily greeted one another. That was kind of creepy.)
"-Won Won, so good luck with that, and, if you'll excuse me-" Hermione's hand, small and sturdy, reached for the door handle.
He stood (his legs felt like jelly) and ignored the nurse's yells of get right back in bed, young man! and hastily spoke.
"Please!"
Hermione turned, arms folded, an eyebrow raised. He gave her a fairly bitter look, but continued, lowering his voice as she came a bit closer.
"…don't tell Lavender I woke up. Say that I'm, I dunno, asleep, or I've croaked or something. Anything."
A pause. Fat Chance, he inferred, depressed. Madame Pomfrey helped him back in bed and returned to tidying the mostly-empty hospital wing. Hermione was still standing there.
"Anything else?" she asked crisply.
"Aren't you gonna give me the homework I've missed sometime? Well, isn't that what you do?" he said defensively as she gave him a calculated look. And all of a sudden she was hugging him tight again-
-and just as suddenly, she was gone.
Used to such confusing interactions with Hermione, and his ears ringing vaguely nonetheless, Ron closed his eyes and turned in the bed. His cheek hit his sleeve, which was still wet with Hermione-tears from the first (and possibly second) embrace, and he groggily wondered if almost dying from poison wasn't worth it, after all.
A/N: Sorry if it wasn't too blatantly H/R, but I was trying to be realistic to what probably had happened between them in the hospital wing. I had lots of fun writing this ...Still, I may not be satisfied with it, and I'm worried I may have gotten some details wrong. Ah, bien, R&R!