'You don't understand, isn't it ?' His voice low, Harry studied his best friend's blue eyes.

'Of course you couldn't understand...Not at all...'

'Harry, I'm sure it isn't-'

'No, Ron. He's everywhere.'

Emerald pools of sadness, one single tear sliding along his flustered cheek, splattering on his Gryffindor robe.

'Every step I take, he's near. His eyes are rested upon my body, my face, my soul. Every breath I take, he's near. He's watching me. His gaze never surrenders.'

'Harry, it isn't as worse as that, I-'

'Sometimes I feel like we're one. He knows every single secret that's been placed in my soul, every memory that's occupying my mind. He's everywhere I go. Watching me, until the day I die at his hands.'

Ron just looked at the raven-haired boy, pale face, hands shaking lightly.

With a swish of his cloak, the Gryffindor Golden Boy dissapeared into the nearby darkness, leaving Ron behind, miserable and alone.

He missed his smiles these days.

Those sweet days of laughter, fun and just friendship without were over, just like his loyalty for it, and just like faith in everything he had believed in. Sometimes he wondered how Harry would react, if he told him his little secret, that he got enough of this tiresome world, that he just wanted to be alone, somewhere far away from trouble, and most of all, from danger. From pain. He couldn't see his best friend like this. And he knew his words could never change one bit about his situation, so as Seamus', Dean's, or even Dumbledore's.

But Hermione's could.

Yes, they could. When Ron saw her smiling at him, embracing him like a lover, shushing him with those cozy words, telling him everyhting was alright, he felt a shudder move down his spine, freezing his insides.

Nothing was alright, never.

There was a part of him that told him to stay right there, with Harry, his mate, who needed his help. But seeing that scene with him and Hermione taking place numerous times, before his own glazy eyes, was too much.

He believed he needed help too. He felt sick of himself for being jeleous on Harry for Hermione, but he just couldn't control his thoughts.

He needed Harry to smile again. To make every single dark memory that had occurred these months fade away into the darkness of the forgetful mind.

Maybe then he wouldn't notice his jaleousness anymore, and maybe...maybe he could could push it away, even. Like he had always done.

Hermione's caring, her sweet words, her eyes so many times resting upon his... It was undenyable.

But like always, illusion had held everything in place.

Hermione didn't love Harry. No, she fancied him, everyone knew that.

Shattering was the only thing his thoughts did when Hermione told him. That one dark night, when she told him her caring, her sweet smiles, her soft touch where more than that. She loved Harry.

And he couldn't believe he had denyed it.

Oh, he wanted it to be just like before. No single dark thought on their minds, just friendship, no war, no tears, no relevation on Hermione's part...

And Ron couldn't stop thinking how about lucky Harry was, on this one single point, nothing else, just with her, and found it quite amazing he had never realised it before.