Wake-Up Call: HERMIONE

Stirring the next morning was like trying to pull myself out of molasses. It was hard, sticky work. You know that feeling of waking up in the middle of a dream and wanting to keep your eyes closed for a bit in case it decided to come back to you? Waking up was sort of like that, but I didn't think I actually dreamt. I just had that cloying syrupy feeling that dreaming left behind.

The blaring light against my eyelids was the first tip-off, since there were no openings in the tent besides the door flap (unless someone decided to cut a new window). There was small comfort in knowing that I was not lying in a ditch somewhere, but with it came the realization that I wasn't in the bed I got used to sleeping in for the last few months. The next clue came and left just as quickly in its dawning. As much as he'd deny it to anyone who'd ask, Boy Wonder was a clinger with a habit of snoring. It was easy to figure out that he simply wasn't there. As a consolation prize, someone was holding my hand. Their fingers felt odd tangled up in mine, bigger and calloused in different places. I tried to have my hand back but a second sweaty palm joined the first, sandwiching me in between them.

"'Mione?" The voice sounded jarringly loud through the fog in my brain. "Hello?"

I winced, both because of the volume and the familiarity. I knew it. Of course I knew it. In fact I knew it well enough that I was debating whether to open my eyes or play dead for a whilst longer.

I wasn't ready for this. Merlin, I wasn't ready.

"You're awake, aren't you?" he said, with nothing but relief in his tone. He was clearly happy to see me. I wish I could say the same without my nose growing twice its length. "Can you hear me?"

The bed shifted as he sat on the edge of it. I was sure everyone in a one kilometer radius could hear him.

"Are you okay?"

"Blimey, Ronald." I sat up all at once, and the room spun as my punishment. I groaned at the pain and pressed the back of my free hand against my eyes until things settled down. When the spots in my vision cleared, he looked the same as ever: Still tall and gangly and awkward like a kid not quite use to the new body puberty handed him ages ago seemingly overnight. The dark circles were new though, and so were the dull sheen in his eyes that said he valiantly refused to sleep until I had woken up. The thought of him doing something as sweet as that would have made a smile break out on my face if he hadn't abandoned all hope weeks earlier and forgotten that Gryffindors were supposed to be the brave ones.

"Would you let go of me already?"

Ron acted quicker than I expected in releasing the appendage he was holding hostage in his clasped fists. His face matched his hair for a second when he blushed and sat back, giving me some well-earned space.

"Before you say anything else, just listen," he began. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. I could hear him counting down from five in his head as he steeled himself. I knew what was coming next. I could see it in his queasy, pained look.

"I forgive you," I said. I didn't know if it was true or not but I didn't want to hear him swear to the gods how sorry he was and how he would never ever do it again. While his mouth did a truly marvelous impression of a fish out of water, I swung my feet over the side of the makeshift bed in high hopes of making it to the door before he snapped out of it.

"Is that it?" he asked. He looked like he was in the calm before the storm holding an inside-out umbrella waiting for the downpour. I wasn't sure what fire and brimstone he was expecting from me but my stomach was growling like a kneazle and I needed to eat. The more I stayed there in Ginny's room, the more the hurt and betrayal rose in my throat like bile. I was more than happy to push it back down with some cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs.

"Yes, that's it," I said, as if it would be the password that got him to move aside. Alas, Ron was still in front of the door, perhaps anticipating my swift exit. It would be as swift as I could make it at least, since standing on my feet without falling back over was a struggle in and of itself.

"Are you sure you don't want to yell at me? Or throw something? Here," He picked up a lone shoe and tried handing it to me. "Have at it."

He wanted me to be angry, I understood. It was written all over his face. He wanted my wrath and my scorn and my pain. He wanted to pay for what he did, and he wanted me to be the one demanding the fee.

He looked unsure and worried standing there holding his untied boot in his outstretched hand, but most of all he looked like he was not going to budge. He would have to seek that penance elsewhere, I decided. The biggest punishment I could think of was letting him wallow in his own guilt.

"We were all stressed and you were wearing the Locket, which only made it worse."

He took a whilst to respond but when he did, it was with a "Well, that explains a lot."

I nodded and made to leave, not wanting to go into detail about how it did explain a lot, but not everything. The doorknob was within my reach just when my ex-lover spun me around and kissed me full on the mouth like the "ex" part was just a figure of speech. Shock did not even come close to what I felt with his lips and hands massaging in attempts to coax out a response.

"Wait," Pushing him off was not going to be the hardest part of this reunion, I was sure of it. Confusion was written all over his startled face.

"What is it?" He was searching in my eyes, looking for what he already knew was there. He must have been lying to himself the entire time he was away, because even when the truth was right in front of him, he refused to see it for what it was.

"I need some fresh air," I said, trying to get to the door again. My stomach no longer felt hungry, just sick. Even though I doubt Ron was heartless enough to try and snog me if Harry was dead, I wanted to see him for myself. As much as I wished he was the one there when I woke up, I could repay the favor he wasn't healthy enough to fulfill.

Ron held my reaching hand in one of his and pressed his other palm to my forehead.

"You're warm. I'll open a window." He said, tucking free strands behind my ear in what he must of thought was a soothing gesture.

"I'd rather you not."

"Why?"

"I said I just need some air, Ron."

"It's negative six degrees outside. Is some 'air' really worth it?"

He had a point, but I needed to get out of that room before I asphyxiated on all the things we weren't saying out loud.

How do you tell a bloke that you were with his best mate? Do you send him flowers, and a "My Condolences" card? I was woefully underprepared for the conversation currently unfolding. There were no carnations in sight.

"I'll get my coat," I said. A quick glance told me that me that it was not out in the open, wherever it was. I peeked under Ginny's desk and chair and decided that it was not in this room at all. The coat, I mean. Perhaps it was not even in this house. I wish I could say the same for myself.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, I just need some –"

"Forget the bloody air." He sounded tired, resigned. I started walking over to Ginny's closet, determined to keep up the rouse of looking for feasible outerwear, when Ron snapped, "I said forget it!"

I felt for the tip of my wand in my sleeve. This was Ron we were talking about here, so I knew he was not going to hurt me. However, I also knew that an angry Ron was an explosive Ron, and I was not in the mood to get mobbed with the bureau when it went sailing.

After he took a massive breath to collect himself, I released my grip on my wand.

"I stayed with you all night, you know. Wouldn't leave until you woke up." He had taken up my hands again and the sensation was so foreign and wrong that I jerked away without thinking. He inhaled and exhaled deliberately again, somehow scavenging a hopeful-looking half-grin. Somewhere inside, he was telling himself this was not happening.

"I don't know what you want me to say." And that was true.

"Say you missed me, or somethin' like that."

"I did. Of course I did." That was true too. His hopeful-looking half-grin turned into a thankful-looking three-quarters of a smile.

"I was beginning to worry." He leaned in again. My eyes widened and I turned my head. His thankful-looking three-quarters smile strained but stayed in place. "Say you worried about me as much as I worried about you."

"I did, Ron." I hadn't lied yet. I worried myself to shambles. He nodded, relieved. I tried to pull out of his grip but it tightened.

"Now say you're not with him."

He must have thought we were playing a game where I said whatever it was that he wanted me to say. I hadn't lied yet, and I wasn't going to start. When moments passed without my answer, he took it upon himself to continue the apology from earlier like it would wheedle the words out of me.

"I should've stayed and protected you."

"Protect me from what, exactly?" Instantly I was heated. As far as I knew, I didn't need protecting, especially not from a coward.

He beamed at the words, feeling victorious in finally making me talk.

"From him of course. Just look at what he did to your pretty face." Ron murmured the last part and reached to turn my head. A thumb brushed lightly over the bandage on my cheek, and a small ache bloomed. Just like that, I remembered everything: the frothing, the convulsing, the yelling and god-awful beeping of my wand as Harry went into shock.

"That was an accident."

"You sure?"

My brow knotted. I've heard him ask many stupid questions over the years, but never one as stupid at that. I pulled out of his grip.

"I'm sure."

"An 'accident'?" Contempt was all over his features in plain sight. I wasn't sure if it was meant for me or for Harry but I knew where he was driving this conversation. At this rate he was going to crash.

"Yes, an accident. What are you getting at?"

"I'm not getting at anything. I'm just want to know what other 'accidents' happened while I was gone."

"What do you mean by 'other accidents'?" I dared him. I bloody dared him.

"Hmm, I don't know. Did you, by chance, lay back and accidentally open your legs?"

His head snapped to the side. My hand hurt but hopefully not as much as his face.

"Where do you get off talking to me like that?" I hissed, seething with anger and indignation.

"You won't let me kiss you so what else am I supposed to think?" He glared and touched his reddening cheek.

"Your ignorance doesn't give you permission to talk to me like I'm some common whore!"

"Who said anything about you being a common whore? I'm just asking if you're fucking my best mate behind my back! Nothing whorish in that!"

He was getting loud. He was getting even.

"Look, Ron –"

"I don't even know why I bothered then. I saw the way you look at each other." He reached behind me and the door swung open. I kicked it closed. He wasn't walking away this time if I had any say in it.

"Tell me how we look at each other, Ron! Since you act like you know everything!" His face twisted into a scowl. He wanted the storm, and he got it.

"You look at each other like sex-starved animals. It's disgusting. He's supposed to be with my bloody sister!"

"You don't even like them being involved!"

"But I rather her than you! You're supposed to be in love with me. Not him. Me!" He yelled. "He gets everything, 'Mione. Every bloody thing. He can't have you too."

"You left me."

"I was scared, okay? I was scared." He looked panicked. I nearly expected him to get on his knees and plead. "I was just scared."

"You think I wasn't scared too?"

"I said I was sorry."

"And I said you can shove your sorry up your arse!"

I watched as he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Fine. But if you don't love me anymore, just say it."

The calm demand made me even more livid than I already was but I let him stand there waiting for the letdown he already saw coming. I let him anticipate it, and then I let him have it.

"You're amazing, Ron. In all the wrong ways."

"Hermione..." His voice cracked with the emotion welling in his eyes.

"He makes me happy, Ron."

"And I don't?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Not anymore."

The door opened.

"So Sleeping Beauty has finally woken up, has she?" George asked. Fred appeared next to him and waggled his eyebrows. "With a kiss from Prince Charming, I'm sure."

I pushed past them and into the hall, wiping the taste of his lips off my mouth as I went.

"Trouble in paradise?" Fred asked. The door promptly slammed in his face.

"You do know that's Ginny's room, right?" George asked.

His only response was a thud as Ron probably put his fist through the wall.

I honestly didn't know where I was going until I nearly knocked into someone when I rounded the bend.

"Oh, sorry." I said. Ginny gave me a shaky smile and a nod. Her nose was red and I could make out a few streaks on her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"He's in the kitchen," she said, sidestepping me. I said a confused thank you but I didn't think she heard. When I looked behind me, she was already gone.