A/N: A few alterations from the book

The departure of Harry's best friend had hit the poor boy very hard. There had only been brief moments in Harry's life when Ron hadn't been there for him, but each of those times it had later been resolved with ease. However, as much as Harry tried to figure out a solution, he soon realised that Ron was gone, with no absolutely way of returning.

How could he return? To ensure their safety, Harry and Hermione always cast dozens of protective spells around their tent so nobody stumbled upon them, including Ron. The red-head could be, miraculously, stood three yards away from said tent, but would be incapable of seeing, hearing, touching or even smelling them. It was a hard concept to grasp, that Harry had lost his best friend for what seemed like forever.

The loss had deeply affected Hermione also. What was once a thoughtful, bright and logical girl was now a mess of heart-break and self-pity. Every morning she would slump out of bed, hair untidy and eyes puffy as ever, as though she had wept throughout the entire night. Although the evidently tried her best to muffle her sobs, Harry couldn't help but hear her occasional cry. Every time he did, he felt a bizarre urge to wrap his arms around her and sleep by her side.

In truth, he felt lost. With Hermione so traumatized, the burden of finding the sword had fallen entirely onto his lap. He wanted to reassure Hermione, to help her, to make her feel better, but he couldn't comfort another person when he was troubled by the exact same problem. So he left her on her own, humoured her far-fetched and half-hearted attempts at finding the location of the sword and spent his free time wallowing in his own self-pity.

Hermione didn't acknowledge Harry much throughout the first few days of Ron's absence. She would leave the tent regularly to collect some fish from near-by ponds and return hours later, not saying a word to the boy. Whether this was resentment or not, Harry took it as 'alone-time.' The majority of Harry's thoughts were based around the prospect that Hermione regretted choosing him over the red-head.

"Hermione?" Harry asked after five days of Ron's absence. She craned her neck to look up at him, peeling her eyes away from the page she had been staring at for twenty-five minutes.

"Yes?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Thanks," He mumbled, feeling suddenly awkward. Although it was a delicate subject, he felt he need to address it in order to accept the loss. "For staying," He continued quickly. "…you didn't have to, but you did. So, thanks." He coughed a bit. Hermione merely blinked.

"Of course I had to." She snapped. "There is no way I am going to leave you to complete this by yourself. Besides, I've got nowhere to return to, unlike…" Her voice trailed off suddenly, and her gaze returned to the book. She turned the page.

Although it had been a touchy subject, Harry felt that a bit of tension had been cleared by simply thanking her. The atmosphere improved, Hermione spoke more throughout the rest of the day, and the next morning her eyes weren't as puffy. It's odd how one element of comfort can change someone's appearance so drastically. She looked more like her old self now they were talking properly again; her hair wasn't as tatty, her expression was more inquisitive and the overall way she approached Harry was different.

"I'm sorry for being so morbid," She had said the day after Harry's thank you. "It wasn't personal, I promise. I don't blame you at all," She kindly added, squeezing Harry's hand as they huddled together outside the tent, both keeping guard. Although it was Harry's turn, he assumed Hermione was keeping him company to make up for her isolation over the past few days.

"I think we should move again tomorrow," He suggested to her. "We've been here three days now… it's time to go, I reckon."

"Yes," Hermione agreed quietly. "We'll go further south- it's getting incredibly cold." As if to proof her point, she shivered against him, before falling asleep on his shoulder.

According to Harry's second-hand watch, it was 12:20 at night, but it had been this dark for hours now. The temperature only seemed to turn colder, before Harry felt it necessary to carry Hermione back into bed so she didn't freeze.

Laying her softly down on the sheets, he totally disregarded the fact that it was almost Hermione's turn to guard the tent. For the first time since Ron had departed, Hermione had fallen asleep without one single sob echoing from her bed. Harry posed that this was because she had fallen asleep with him, but nevertheless, he felt it would be cruel to disturb her first night of peace.

The next morning, Harry woke from a dazed sleep to a tapping on his left shoulder. He turned to see Hermione frowning.

"That was my watch- you look frozen."

"I-I'm f-fine." He chattered, realising how cold he was. Hermione tapped him on the head with her wand and he felt a spread of warmth trickling all over him. "Thanks!" He said brightly, clambering to his feet. She smiled as he went to stand next to her, and together they disassembled the tent and stuffed into the girl's beaded bag.

The boys hand found the girl's, and with a turn of her feet, they vanished into thin air.

"Protego totalum…" Hermione had a real knack of instantly producing protective spells as soon as their feet touched the ground. They were on the edge of a lake- a lake that appeared heavily deserted.

Within minutes, the tent was standing firmly against the lake's border, and Hermione had caught several fish for the day's meals.

Despite her being more communicative, Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione's brief moments of sadness. He could only sympathize her longing to see Ron again with his longing to see Ginny. Every evening, Harry gazed at the marauders map, staring desperately at the boy's dormitory, eager to watch Ron's name appear on his bed. But it never did.

So he took to following Ginny's every movement. Observing her name wander into the great hall, into the classrooms, into the bathrooms, into her dormitory… it was comforting. Whilst he did this ritual, Hermione conversed vaguely with Phineus Nigellus' portrait, which often took asking about their location. There was only so many times she could refuse to answer before she snapped his painting back in the bag.

"Was he doing it again?" Harry asked lazily as Hermione's bag snapped shut. She nodded.

"It's so frustrating! I mean, no offense to you, Harry, but sometimes it's nice to speak to someone else for a change, and he ruins it," She complained. Harry wasn't offended for he agreed with her- no matter how much he loved Hermione, he longed to be able to speak to someone who wasn't her. Conversation topics were running thin, and both of them didn't have a clue where the sword could be placed. He simply appreciated her company for his own sanity at that moment.

In fact, Hermione felt the exact same. Harry was simply a beacon of positivity in her eyes- a symbol that she wasn't alone. Ron leaving had left her broken and torn into pieces, but Harry was comforting to her, because he understood. The two may crave the company of other people, but without each other, they'd be lost.

So when Hermione curled into a ball where Nigellus' portrait had been sat, the boy didn't retaliate at her complaint. Instead he turned the radio on, pulled the girl to her feet and began to dance.

For the first time in a week, Hermione laughed, amused by his atrocious dance movements, before joining in so they could dance together. It wasn't skilful, it was simply pleasant; their fingers were entwined, their bodies were close… the whole routine was oddly intimate.

Eventually they stopped dancing, and simply held each other, drowning out the music in the background. Hermione hadn't felt this connected with someone in what seemed like years, but for Harry it was even longer. The evident chemistry between Ron and Hermione had always left Harry feeling forgotten, but now Ron was gone, and it was just the two of them in each other's arms, both without their loved ones, seeking reassurance, having only the company of the other…

When they pulled out of the embrace, they simply stared at each other for a few moments, boring into the other's eyes and studying the connection between the pair. Their situations were incredibly similar, and both of them felt that the only person who really understood them was the person they were holding.

So Harry placed his palm on Hermione's cheek and sighed, because he understood completely. Although it was only the two of them for miles, no matter how lonely they felt in this depressive time, it was simply impossible for anything other than friendship to ever occur between the two of them. And he knew Hermione understood that, as she raised her hand to press it against Harry's, and smiled sadly.

They had each other for comfort and support. And that was enough.