Staring out the window to take his mind off things for a moment, he found there was no one out flying, something he would not be able to do in his present condition, though the idea of it brought him a bit of peace, the freedom of being up in the air, a place where he could go in any direction he chose.

The Hospital Wing was not a place that made him feel free.

There was a quiet sobbing coming from a girl on her knees next to his assigned bed, her familiar bushy hair straightening with the tears every time she looked up, only to look down again, not wanting to meet his eyes. Hermione gave no verbal responses to his questions as he asked them. At one point, he had tried to shift and put his arm around her, but he had to levitate it to get it to move and she refused it, slapping it before apologizing and going back to crying into her sleeve.

"Hermione, if you don't stop crying, I'm going to have to get Madam Pomfrey to plug your tear ducts." His expression changed to an interrogative one. "Would you like that?" Violet vapors came out of his mouth as he spoke. Bloody curses...

She looked up, her eyes still red and wet.

"How can you still joke about this?" she asked. Well, I reckon it's better than crying. Might be the first thing she's said since she got un-petrified.

"Well, I can't exactly tell you, but I promise you'll puzzle it out if you promise not to cry for an hour." The Ravenclaw stared at him a moment before acknowledging the joke with a nod, though it did not provoke laughter from her.

"I mean... you're hurt... I've never seen anyone hurt this badly before. Can they even heal you?"

In his mind he was banged up badly enough, but as far as he understood it was almost all on the surface, where the magic was already taking effect. The bones in both of his feet had to be vanished and regrown, after his broom had been destroyed in flight by a reductor curse, his inability to slow his fall taking him out of the battle as he hit the ground. It had been George who carried him out.

"I'll be fine, I think. I don't know much about Healing. Not like they're going to put me in Saint Mungo's, though. Even if I could afford it." This time Hermione managed a chuckle, though it might have been for his benefit. Which is odd, since I wasn't joking.

There was a long silence and if he had been more perceptive, Ron might have been able to say some understanding passed between them. But whatever he was supposed to be getting out of the witch in blue-trimmed robes, and whatever he was supposed to be communicating to her, he had not the slightest idea. I really don't care much for this kind of ambiguity.

"Do you... feel bad for some reason?" he asked.

"Where do I begin?" she answered at length. "I mean... you know by now I tried to leave, right? I thought... it doesn't matter. I thought I had it the worst out of anyone in the world- here you are bloodied and cursed and feeling pain you're not telling me- I thought it just wasn't my responsibility, none of it, this whole world was just something I couldn't fix- and- and the first thing I hear when I ask about you- I'm sorry, I asked about the Heir first- is that you'd been injured fighting! I couldn't believe students were fighting- and only because if they didn't fight, the Death Eaters would have the castle- Did no one die?" He nodded. Ginny had to be alive, somewhere. I'll find her, no matter how far I have to go. If Fred and George don't want to help, they can shove off, the pair of them. "And- the moment I get in here to apologize for not being there, for getting my stupid wish and having everyone else handle things, you ask me if I've heard anything about your sister- or your bloody rat."

Ron's eyes widened a moment in confusion, not able to tell if she was feeling upset at herself, upset at him, upset at him for making her upset at herself, or generally upset. He considered offering to make tea. I'd probably just burn myself if I did it like this.

"I haven't seen the rat." Hermione said at length. "And I haven't heard anything about Ginny." she answered more quietly. "I'll tell you the moment I do."

"You know a bit ago you were up in arms about a cat-" he coughed, interrupting her glare in his direction with a look of concern. "-not even your cat, mind."

The Ravenclaw's eyes dried. She looked off with a momentary smile before returning.

"Here we are, fighting again." the witch announced, meeting his eyes before shaking her head. "Well, here I am, fighting with you as if I can complain. I'm sorry." Her voice was as sincere as it was steady, where before it had shook. She doesn't normally let it do that. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you." Ron wanted to interrupt her, to tell her it was not her fault, but he had already interrupted her once and it had not gone well. "I'm sorry I wanted this." she offered as her fingers balled into a fist. "I'm sorry you ended up like this... to think I had a couple light burns after last year... I don't even know what kind of curses you have."

"Don't think I got the worst of it." he muttered, his thoughts drifting to the people who died. Guess she hasn't heard about Lockhart. No reason to tell her, I reckon.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think of all the classes you missed. You're probably a book and a half behind, if you're lucky." the wizard diverted, looking straight up from his supine position to keep his friend from seeing his face. Hermione's doing that thing again where she's making herself responsible for everything. Well, maybe it's different now. I wish I knew. Hearing her chuckle at his joke put his wondering at ease for a moment.

"I won't have as much to make up as someone we know." she said more clearly. Might be she's run out of tears. "Hannah's locked herself in the library. She's up to something, and I think I know what it is."

"Well I don't. I haven't seen her in days." Immediately after his having said this, there was someone at the door and he turned to see his father being allowed in, only to quickly look at the scene before nodding and showing himself out. Bloody hell, Dad. I didn't have her kneel next to my bed and I bloody well didn't ask her to cry over it. Fortunately his first visitor failed to notice his second, though she saw the red rising on his face.

"What?"

"Never you mind. Did anyone say anything about when I get out of here? They never tell me a thing."

"They said they still don't know about some of the curses but it's nowhere near as bad as whatever Dean has. When they could get him to sit still long enough to run a few curse detection tests, all they could find was that they basically couldn't even tell what he is anymore."

"Did he have any comment?" I reckon I'd tell them to sod off.

"He doesn't know about the diagnosis. I only overheard it when I was in Professor Flitwick's office, before he came in. Do you know anything about Unspeakables?"

"They're up to secret stuff down in the Department of Mysteries." he responded before deciding there might be someone listening in. Prob'ly better not to mention any of that. Not until we get to the room anyway.

"Does anyone know what they're doing apart from breaking curses?"

"Not really. Everything they do has to be secret, so even the Ministry doesn't really know what goes on down there. Reckon it's why Ebony didn't get sacked after last year." He coughed another violet haze before insisting it was nothing. The Gryffindor was relatively sure there was nothing wrong with his lungs.

"She's an Unspeakable when not an Inspector?"

"No, she's an Inspector all the time. Even the ones who weren't secretly going to Hogwarts every year had responsibilities apart from that-" I'm saying too much again. Scanning the Hospital wing, it appeared there was at least no one watching them. Hermione seemed to pick up on his intention.

"Ron, those are just... wild speculations. You've no idea what they do in the Department."

"Right. Shouldn't get ahead o' myself." he added entirely too quickly. His friend rose and started to walk off, as if the real reason for leaving had to do with the coursework she was trying to list all at once.

"...then I've got to catch up on Professor Sprout's- oh, I just can't imagine what's happened to my plants- but before that I need to learn about the properties of asphodel for a practical demonstration in Potions- Snape won't forgive me if it's late, not even if I'm still petrified- I can't imagine the notes he's left on my record-" she rambled while walking backward, bumping into Madam Pomfrey on her way out the door. The matronly Healer simply stepped aside, though for a moment Ron pictured her picking up the Ravenclaw and rounding to set her down behind and on her merry way.

His father walked in a polite minute and a half later, as if to indicate he had done something else rather than stay by the door listening in, though there was probably very little he could have heard. Oddly enough he was smiling.

"That's my boy." he started. "To think, the first time I had Molly crying over me I was already in fourth year, and that was because I tried to use a Muggle toaster for- well, that's not important, either way she was mine for sure after that." He quickly perused the enchanted parchment lying at his son's bedside before muttering 'nothing Bill can't set right in a jiffy'.

"Dad, it's not like that."

"Oh, she told you it's not like that?" he asked leadingly. "Ron with a witch it's never quite like that until you kiss her one day and then it was like that the whole time. Molly asked what took me so long and that was two weeks after she hit me over the head with an enchanted fellytone, don't ask me where I found it; I maintain I did not enchant it myself-"

"Well, no, she didn't tell me it wasn't like that." he answered not entirely to stop his father from incriminating himself.

"Merlin, she must really fancy you."

Ron simply groaned. Has to like me if she doesn't say it, has to like me if she does- I suppose Madam Pomfrey likes me, Merlin, of all the absolute nonsense-

"Dad, what happened to the Death Eaters?" The man at the foot of his bed adopted a more serious expression.

"I don't know, son. Almost all of the men who were working directly for You-Know-Who made it out of there without a scratch. They don't put themselves on the front lines. We cleaned up some bodies yes, and more than I would have liked were a bunch of misinformed farm boys not much older than yourself." he explained before pausing to consider it. "I'm not saying all rustics are ignorant, nor is everyone your age-"

"Why didn't the Department show up?" Ron asked. He did not particularly care if his father was prone to generalization, nor that he would hastily correct himself. Prob'ly explains more than I'd like.

"Well, some of them thought it was a fake." he started simply. "A girl from Hogwarts calls us at random, screaming her head off about Death Eaters attacking the school? It's something you should take seriously, but this close to finals there were those who thought it was that same girl who calls about Professor Snape being a vampire." He sighed, getting out a pad and quill. "Quite a few people in the upper echelons thought it was Dumbledore getting his just comeuppance." he said rather quietly.

"Dumbledore getting his- why? What did he do?" he was getting close to shouting and the school Healer called out a reminder not to strain himself.

"He told the Ministry he could handle safety concerns at Hogwarts. The Department Head, you know her, Amelia Bones, told me to my face that if the Heir of Slytherin attacking students is run of the mill, normal problems that the school can resolve internally, then a handful of Death Eaters should present no problem." His father was writing something as he spoke, but it was probably only a note to himself that he was accustomed to writing. "I suppose if not even one student died, that might even be right, but I know it doesn't excuse the way the Department responded. I'm relatively sure that it was a best case scenario for most people close to the Minister, since it means they'll have the Inspectors back, snooping around in the Restricted Section for books to burn. That's if they don't move the Azkaban guard out here, but that's unlikely. If the Dementors leave the island, it would be easier for the Death Eaters to go there and get their old friends out."

Ron had heard of the cloaked guardians of the magical prison out in the North Sea. He had not seen one himself, and despite his boyhood curiosity, he was eventually turned away from the idea. Most adults seemed to agree that if he never saw one, it would be too soon.

"That's part of the plan? They're going to Azkaban?"

"It has to be on the table." his father said simply. "We haven't heard it out of them or anything, but they would never tell us." He looked away a moment. "I should probably not be telling you most of this, but it seems like you're already involved."

"I know I'm involved. I want to be involved." Ron objected, seeing that it was meant to be a wind of misfortune. "Does it look like I don't want to help?" he asked, choking a little. His father looked down at the many injuries and curses on his diagnosis.

"What it looks like, is that as willing as you are, you're not ready." He sighed. "Son, you did the right thing by not running from the problem. Now I mean to do the right thing by taking those responsibilities from you. Charlie has already volunteered to go looking for Ginny." A pang of guilt stabbed him in the heart. "We were planning a visit to Bill in Egypt, so don't think it's out of the way for us, though we would certainly go there only on your account."

"Where are you going?" He asked, seeing that his father decided it was going to be a short visit.

"I'm going back to work. I can only miss so much- I still need to make sure you're even going to school next year." As he spoke he started to walk out, only to turn once more. "Son, your mother does not want me to tell you, but I'm very proud of you. I'm proud of your brothers too, but I don't care that you're hurt and they're unscathed, you acted like a regular hero out there. You acted like no one your age should have to act."

"I don't care about what I should have to do." he muttered, not expecting to be heard as his father left silently, stopping only to thank Madam Pomfrey, which made him realize he had never done so, not after she had taken care of both him and his friends. Well, that's her job.

Unable to move much, he levitated his schoolbag onto the bed so he could at least see inside. For once in his life, he had less homework to do than Hermione, and it was a moment he would enjoy, though not for long. As he scribbled out his essay he could imagine she was already catching up to him, though it would be interesting if she ran into Hannah in the library. For a moment he hoped they would be fighting over the same book, but remembered that in the unlikely event that happened, he would not get to witness it.

Frowning, he remembered there was something other than exams on his mind, as was almost always the case. Can usually count on a distraction at a time like this.

The Heir of Slytherin had yet to be caught.

Whoever it was, it had to be someone who was in before the battle, and it was almost certainly not the first-year who escaped at the same time as Ginny. As little as he liked it, he doubted the pair of them escaping was a coincidence, though he expected others would see it as a kidnapping if they knew. Learning that the third was Goldstein surprised him even less.

There was only one thing he knew for certain.

Malfoy knows.