Chapter 7

Ron poked at the piece of chocolate cake that was in front of him. Harry eyed him suspiciously from across the table. It wasn't like Ron to not gobble down sweets the moment he laid eyes on them.

"You alright, Ron?" Harry asked, taking a bite of his own cake.

"Bloody brilliant," Ron mumbled sarcastically. He made the cake disappear and he stood up. He glared at Harry before walking off into the living room.

"Are you mad at me?" Harry asked, following him.

"What tipped you off?"

"Why in the bloody hell are you mad at me?"

"What were you doing talking to Hermione?"

"What?"

"Harold, Hermione's bloody assistant was bragging in the hallway that he got to talk to the famous Harry Potter to Dillan McCallister who then told Jake Manning who told me that you were in Hermione's office."

Harry shook his head, trying to make sense of what Ron had just said.

"Hermione and I were just talking. Since when did it become a crime to talk to your friend at work?" Harry asked.

"Since you were talking to you friend about me."

"How do you know that I was talking to Hermione about you? And besides, that I wouldn't have to talk to Hermione about you if you would just talk to her yourself."

"I told you to leave it alone, Harry."

"Ron, how can you honestly stand there and tell me that you'd rather live miserably pining over her than simply telling her how you feel?"

"What did you say to her, Harry?"

"What?"

"What did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her anything, but if you don't, I will."

"This is none of your business, Harry!"

"I'm just trying to be your friend, Ron. You can't continue having these nightmares."

"A real friend would mind their own damn business! And what makes you think telling Hermione how I feel will help?"

Harry sighed. "I don't."

"Then bug off, Harry."

Ron retreated to his room. He flopped down onto his bed, trying to make sense of everything. He wondered if Harry was right. Maybe he should just tell Hermione. But would that really make his nightmares go away? Would telling her how he felt about her make him feel like she was safe?

Angrily, Ron punched his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Ron! I need you! Ron!"

"Hermione! Where are you?"

He was in the darkness once again, unable to see even inches in front of his own face. He groped around in the darkness, but felt nothing.

"Please hurry!" She cried.

"I can't. Hermione, please, I can't!"

"I'm right here, Ron! Please help me!"

"Hermione!"

"No, don't hurt me! No! Please!"

"Avada Kedavra!" A shrill voice shrieked.

"Nooooo!" Ron howled. The darkness was met with silence. "Hermione? Hermione!"

Ron dropped to his knees, sobbing.

When he opened his eyes, his face was wet with tears. He was bawling, his body frantically convulsing. He sat up, leaning against his headboard, his head buried in his hands. He had to know. He had to know if she was okay.

He stood up and disappeared.

Seconds later, he was pushing open her bedroom door. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he focused on her bed. She wasn't there. Frantic, he ran over to her bed and touched the spot where she should have been lying. Her bed was still made and the sheets weren't even warm. She hadn't been there all night.

"Hermione," he whispered.

He ran into her living room, searching everywhere. Her jacket was neatly hanging on its hook and her satchel was right below it. She had been home, but where was she? He was panicked. She had never not been there. It was two o'clock in the morning. Where could she be at two o'clock in the morning?

Ron ran back to her bedroom and ran over to her bedside table. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he didn't see her wand. Whenever she was sleeping, she left it on the table next to her bed. At least that meant she had her wand with her.

"Move even an inch and I'll put a spell on you that you won't soon forget."

Her voice was unmistakable. A strong sense of relief flooded over him. She was okay. Obviously angry, but okay.

"Now turn around very slowly," Hermione commanded. Her voice wavered ever so slightly. It was then that Ron realized that she didn't know that it was him.

"Hermione, it's me," he said. He heard her gasp and he turned around. This time, it was he who gasped. She was standing in the doorway, her wand pointed straight at him, in nothing but a towel.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked.

"Hermione…" he said, looking her up and down from head to toe. The yellow towel was tucked tightly just under her arms and fell just above her knees. Her wet hair fell loosely around her face.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She lowered her wand and clutched the towel against her chest.

"What are you doing here?" She finally blurted out, knowing that her cheeks were burning a bright red. If she were thinking clearly, she would have kicked him out of her room so that she could put some real clothes on, but her brain was nowhere near clear.

"I…I…" Ron couldn't help but stutter. At that moment, his brain was complete mush.

"Well?"

"Well…what were you doing taking a shower at two in the morning?"

"That is none of your business!" Hermione shouted. "Now, please enlighten me as to why you are standing in my bedroom in the middle of the night?" Her speechlessness was now turning into anger.

"I came to borrow some leech broth."

"Leech broth? At two o'clock in the morning?"

"Yeah."

He couldn't stop staring at her. For all the time they had spent together sleeping in the same tent for months, he had never seen her in a towel. He wanted to imprint the image of her into his brain.

"Why in bloody hell do you need leech broth at one o'clock in the morning?"

Hermione rarely said bloody hell. Ron knew he was in trouble.

"It's for…a headache potion." Ron was silently glad that he paid attention in potions the day that they discussed home remedies. Otherwise, Hermione would have been able to have seen right through his lie.

"You want to brew headache potion in the middle of the night?"

"My head hurts," Ron stated, bringing his hand to his head to better fake his ailment.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you wait, I'll brew you some potion myself."

"Oh…okay." He should have stood up for himself and told her that he was capable of brewing a simple headache potion, but he didn't. He wanted to be around her for as long as possible.

She began to tap her foot impatiently. "Do you mind waiting in the kitchen so I can get dressed first?"

"Uh…sure."

Ron slowly began to leave the room, trying to inconspicuously get a last look at her. His arm brushed against hers as he walked by her. He walked straight into the kitchen, grinning.

Author's Note: Originally this was split into two chapters, but I decided against it because the two chapters were pretty short. I hope it works. Thank you for reading and please review!