Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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When Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace, covered in soot, Ron already had planned what to say to her. He was going to tell her that she shouldn't have run off without even explaining why she was going, and by herself. He was going to tell her that enemies could be anywhere, even in the joke shop, and that it was dangerous for her to go running off on her own.

He was going to tell her a lot of things, and not necessarily in a nice way, until he saw tears running down her face. Everything left his mind, and instead, he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Shhhh," he ran a hand gently over her hair and rubbed her back, "Shhh, it's alright. It's alright," he felt his shoulder dampen with her tears. He didn't care, and held her closer.

Hermione mumbled something into his shoulder that he couldn't quite make out.

"Sorry?"

She pulled away enough to look up at him, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and choked out, "D-don't ever d-die."

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Hermione had felt something snap in her when she was talking to George. All she could picture was Ron- dead; and the knowledge that such a thing could have happened, and could still happen if they weren't careful and watchful, shook her to her core.

It opened the gateway for every vile thought to flow in, everything that the Horcrux cup had shown her and others that it hadn't. What if she wasn't good enough? What if she failed? What if she failed to keep them all safe? To keep him safe?

She tried to rein in the rush of feelings that tumbled through her like a hurricane. Stress threatened to overwhelm her. The screams of people she knew, people she grew up with, dying around her echoed through her mind in a violent torrent.

Failure. The very thought that she could still fail everyone at any moment, perhaps with a lack of knowledge, or a delayed spell, terrified her. Had she not failed them already? She had failed to stop the werewolves from capturing her, after all, and even before that, she had failed to realize the gravity of that singular paw print she had found in the garden of the Burrow just one day after a full moon. She had failed to connect the dots that were so obvious to her now.

Distantly, Hermione heard Ron, "Hey, it's alright, Hermione. Don't worry, I don't plan on dying anytime soon, alright?"

She nodded into his shoulder, gasping as she tried to regain control of her emotions and her tears, and as she did she clutched to him tighter; desperately and irrationally terrified that if she were to let him go, he would be gone forever. Hermione scolded herself for such senseless thoughts; after all, they were merely standing in the living room of the Burrow, and yet that fear refused to release her: the fear of losing him; the fear of failing him.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, "Hermione, what happened?"

She held him tighter, afraid that he might let go; he rubbed her back and ran his fingers through her hair in a silent confirmation that he wasn't going anywhere. Her shoulders shook with her racking sobs. She was so tired, so scared, so unsure.

"What happened, Hermione?" he asked again, his voice more serious, "Is everything alright? Is George okay?"

His words seemed to draw her slowly back into reality, and she forced her breathing to calm, "G-G-George is f-fine. Every-ything is f-f-fine."

"Well, not everything," he said, he was audibly relieved that there was no tangible danger, "You seem a bit wonky. What happened?"

She shook her head and fisted his shirt in her hands, realizing that she was ruining it terribly, and not caring in the least, "N-nothing…. I-I-I… I just… I'm…"

He pulled her closer to him as she fought against new tears, "Shhhh, it's alright… do you want to go up to my room? I know that you'd probably not want someone to walk in when you're…" Hermione nodded before he could further try find the right word without insulting her.

"Right, well…" he pried her hands from his shirt, but held her close with an arm around her shoulders as they walked about the many flights of stairs. So disoriented was she, that Hermione trusted Ron completely to lead her up the rickety staircase. She was later thankful that they didn't run into anyone on their journey up to his room, so no one saw her in the- what she would call embarrassing- state she was in.

Ron closed the door behind them, and led her across the room until the back of her legs hit his bed. Thankfully, she sat down.

Ron sat beside her, and watched her carefully, with his hand rubbing small circles on her back, while she fought to regain control of herself. When she finally opened her eyes, she was shocked to find him staring over at her with an expression nothing short of avid admiration.

She smiled weakly, "Sorry."

His blue eyes turned serious, "No apologies, Hermione. Just tell me what happened."

Hermione took a deep, quivering breath, "I… I don't know what happened, really. I was just talking to George about-" she cut herself off, unsure of exactly how to go on. She knew how Ron would react if he knew about Fred, and the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him more than he already was, and make him think he could somehow bring Fred back into his life through George.

"About what?"

"About… Fred. I just needed to talk to him about Fred, because I found a book that I thought might help him get through the loss… and he started asking me how I would feel if you died, and if I couldn't do anything about it," that wasn't a lie, it was just part of the truth, even so, Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

"That git," Ron made to get up, but Hermione snatched his arm and pulled him back down again.

"No, Ron, he's just hurting, is all. It's understandable, I should I have known better than to go to him about it, at least not until later…"

"That doesn't give him the right-"

"Ron, forgive him. I already have. I just hope the book I left him will help."

There was small pause, "So what happened, after he asked you… how it would be if I had… erm… died?"

"I don't know… I just kind of lost it. I was able to keep my head when I was talking to him, but when I left I-… I don't know. I felt like I needed to see you, at that moment, to be sure you were okay. I ran down to the shop as fast I could- I'm sure that I knocked a few things down along the way- and came through the fireplace. I was sure for some reason that something was wrong… there wasn't though, it was completely irrational," she looked away, embarrassed of emotions that by her view were imprudent.

"Not everything has to be rational, Hermione," Ron told her.

"That's not true. If something isn't rational, it's irrational, and to be anything but logical is foolish. I hate being foolish."

"D'you reckon that everyone should be a little bit foolish? At least sometimes?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"I figure everyone is a bit loony, that's what makes us… us, you know?"

Hermione sniffed and rubbed her red eyes, "I suppose you're right, in a strange way."

His eyes widened in surprise at her agreeing with him so quickly, "Yeah… yeah, I am. And it's alright, you know, that you got upset, that's why I'm here," he assessed her with bright blue eyes, "You're not the only one that has those moments, Hermione. There have been times that I have woken up from nightmares, and I've had to go down and peek into Ginny's room to make sure that you're alright."

Hermione marveled at him, how he had grown, how he had changed. Sometime, he was still that insensitive boy with a crude sense of humor but ever since he arrived at their tent, with the sword of Gryffindor in one hand, a destroyed horcrux in the other, and an apology on his lips, he had shown himself to be the man he was more often than not. He still had the same unsophisticated sense of humor and rude use of language, but Hermione had to admit that, although uncouth, those were still things that she loved about him. They made him Ron.

She disregarded his anger towards her the week after Fred's death: she knew that that was how he dealt with his hurt, and accepted it.

Before she realized she was going to do it, Hermione found herself reaching out and tenderly touching his cheek. Their eyes met and it was as if a Priori Incantatem had been forged between them, neither seemed able to break that connection, to look away. When she thought her heart may burst, Hermione whispered, "I love you, Ron," as if it was some grand secret for his ears alone.

He smiled that special lopsided smile that she had found he only smiled for her, "Now, that's not very rational of you."

"Of course it is," she replied, "It's completely logical. You're loyal, and brave, and strong, and passionate, and smart-"

"Well now you're pushing it," he chuckled, "You're the brains, not me."

Her brow furrowed, "No, your mind works differently than mine, is all. You are better than both Harry and I with strategies, and coming up with a solution to a problem that can't be found in a book. Like how you thought of getting the fangs out of the Chamber of Secrets, or how you knew in first year how to get us across that chess set."

His expression became thoughtful, "You know, I don't think anyone else could make me sound like the hero you make me sound like."

"It's the truth. You can be insufferable sometimes, but you are a hero."

He grinned, "I love you, Hermione."

"I suppose we're both a bit irrational."

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Author's note: I'd like to thank my reviewers once again; you all are FANTASTIC. And I hope that more of you who read this will also review, I'd love to hear from you.

I am quite excited to write the next chapter. All I will tell you is that Cain is making his return. Oh, how I love writing that unbearable man.