The next day, Hermione found herself back in Minerva's office, the teapot and cups in place on the desk before her and Harry once again sitting in the armchair next to her. The only difference this time was that the office was significantly more crowded; Ron, Ginny, Poppy, Bill and Professor Slughorn were in attendance as well as herself, Harry and the Headmistress.

Everyone who knows the truth about Harry and me.

She could sense some of what the others were feeling but she could not pinpoint the majority of emotions to specific individuals; there was simply too many people in such a small space, and she found it all a little overwhelming. The only person she was getting any sort of read on was the man who was currently her boyfriend.

Ron.

He wouldn't look either Harry or herself in the eye. While Ginny seemed a little uncomfortable, Ron was in a completely different place to everyone else in the room in terms of his raw emotions. Anger, resentment, confusion – even fear. This is what she was picking up from him and it deeply concerned her. She knew that she was going to have to face the music and end their short relationship soon, but she really, really did not want their friendship to be jeopardised. For all their bickering over the years; for all their petty squabbles and disagreements, they had endured so much together that bonds of friendship had been formed. Bonds that she treasured. Despite it all; despite his bluster and his insensitivity and his frequent bouts of thoughtlessness, Ron was a good man and she knew that he did care deeply for her, just as she cared for him. She counted him as one of the few people in her life that she both loved and was loved by in return. It was for this reason that she was dreading the conversation she knew she must have with him once this meeting was over.

Her musings were cut short as she felt a sudden pressure on her hand and when she glanced round, she realised that Harry had given her fingers a soft squeeze, clearly having sensed her disquiet. She caught his gaze and gave him an almost imperceptible nod, letting him know she was OK. Their silent communication was interrupted by the sound of Minerva loudly clearing her throat and as she turned to give her full attention to the Headmistress, she caught both Ron and Ginny staring at her and Harry, a thoughtful expression on the face of the latter.

A scowl of resentment on the face of Ron.

Before she could react, however, Minerva began to speak.

'Thank you all for coming today, particularly as this meeting has been called at short notice.' She looked at Bill as she said this, and it occurred to Hermione that Bill must have had to get permission from the Goblins to get time off work. She smiled her appreciation at him, before turning her attention back to Minerva.

'I have asked you all here today because we have much to accomplish and you are the only people who are fully aware of all the…extenuating circumstances that affect Hermione and Harry,' she added, wryly. 'So, consider this little gathering almost as a Council of War. I value the opinions and the intelligence of each and every one of you. We have actions that must be taken but the reality of our situation is that much of what we do must, for the moment, remain a secret.' She gestured towards Harry and Hermione. 'The current political environment is not particularly favourable for our friends, given their…status, so I must ask for your discretion and insist that everything that we discuss in this room, remain in this room. There are some in the Ministry who might take a dim view of what we are doing. Some of our tasks may even be highly dangerous.'

She paused, taking a moment to let that final statement sink in while she decided what to say next.

'I will not request a vow of silence from anyone here. After everything we have gone through, it is imperative that we continue to trust one another. Your word will be sufficient bond for me. What I will say now, before we go any further, is that if any of you do decide that you do not want to be a part of this little conspiracy, you can leave now, and no one will think any less of you. If you do take this option, all I ask of you is your silence.'

Hermione tensed at these words and she heard Harry give a little gasp of surprise. Minerva, with her usual clarity, had cut right through to the heart of the matter. What they were about to do was probably dangerous and almost certainly illegal. After a few moments of silence, no one had moved, and Hermione let out the breath she did not even realise she was holding.

'Thank you,' said Minerva, a small smile on her face. 'We have much to do. Our priority is finding Greyback. Notwithstanding his recent attacks, we have established from witness testimony here at Hogwarts that he can change his form at will. We must find out how he has achieved this. The implications for those cursed with Lycanthropy are massive. We may even be talking about a potential cure. We must find him. Must,' she added, fervently, slamming her fist on her desk as she said this. A long pause followed this outburst.

'Do we have any ideas at all as to how he is doing this?' asked Ginny, and Hermione was surprised that it was the youngest person in the room who had broken the silence.

'Some kind of spell, perhaps?' asked Poppy. 'I remember that fool, Lockhart, babbling about curing the Wagga Wagga Werewolf with a Homorphus charm.' She flushed at the raised eyebrows that greeted her remarks. 'I don't mean that Lockhart did what he claimed! I just mean that it might be possible for someone else to have achieved it? I remember once reading about Cecil Lee from the Werewolf Capture Unit. He led it back in the 1930's, I think. Anyway, he said that while the spell couldn't cure Lycanthropy, it could temporary return a werewolf to human form. What if someone has managed to tweak the spell to make the reverse true also?'

'That…could be possible,' said Minerva, slowly, taking notes as she did so. 'Certainly, it's something worth looking at. Thank you, Poppy,' she added with a smile. The normally taciturn nurse flushed at the praise.

'I don't mind looking into that,' said Bill. 'If someone has managed to reverse that charm then it could be classed as a curse. A particularly dark curse,' he added meaningfully. 'With the sort of crazy people you-know-who…sorry! Old habits, and all that.' He held his hands up in apology for his words before starting again. 'With the sort of crazy people Voldemort, gathered around him, anything is possible. I'll do some checking into that. The goblins may have some information we lack,' he added. Hermione found herself smiling at the use of Voldemort's name, pleased that his shadow did not cast so long anymore.

'Thank you, William. Please be discreet. Any other ideas?' Minerva asked, concealing her smirk at the grimace on Bill's face at hearing the use of his given name.

Professor Slughorn cleared his throat. 'I do not think it likely that he is using a potion,' he began. 'I keep up to date with the latest developments in my field and I am not aware of any recent breakthroughs. Many have tried to build on the work of Damocles Belby, but no one has yet been able to improve on the Wolfsbane potion. If anyone had done so, I would have heard about it. I cannot think of a single Potions Master who would keep such a breakthrough secret.'

Hermione sat bolt upright at these words. 'I can,' she said, softly.

'What?' spluttered Horace.

'I said, "I can." Isn't it obvious? We all know of a Potions Master who acted in secret,' she added, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

She could see the exact moment the penny dropped. Even Ron, not normally the quickest on the uptake, lurched forward in his seat as the realisation dawned.

'Snape!' Ron exclaimed.

'Snape,' repeated Harry with a whisper, and she felt him tense at her side as he repeated the name. When she turned to face him, she noticed that he had turned white and that he was actually trembling. Instinctively, she grabbed his hand in her own and began gently stroking it, oblivious of the reactions of the others in the room. She knew that he was still coming to terms with Snape's death; his actions, and with what sort of man he had been.

A brave man? No doubt Severus Snape was brave. But his bravery did not make him any less the utter bastard he had been to Harry.

She still had not forgiven either Snape or Dumbledore for their role in making Harry feel that he had to sacrifice his own life. She doubted that she ever would, and it was for this reason that she had insisted Minerva put all the portraits in her office to sleep. She did not want to face them right now, if ever. "Greater good" or otherwise, no teenager should be made to feel that the only viable solution to a problem was to die.

She finally felt her friend calm down at her touch and she smiled when he spared her a grateful glance. He nodded his reassurance before turning his attention to the others. She did not let go of his hand.

'Snape,' Harry repeated, firmly this time. 'He had the ability to create something like this and it's the sort of thing Voldemort might have wanted him to do.' He grimaced. 'Even though he was on our side, if Voldemort ordered him to try and create such a potion, Snape would have attempted it. He was the type of person who would have relished such a challenge. He was that vain. He was also that creative,' he added, thinking of a particular Potions book.

Minerva looked at him reprovingly but did not immediately comment. 'You make valid points, Mr Potter,' she finally replied. 'It is something we certainly need to look into.

'I'll do it,' replied Harry, firmly, a look of grim determination on his face. She squeezed his hand again.

'Me too,' she said, not taking her eyes off Harry. After a few moments, she felt the scrutiny of the others in the room. 'This is all about helping us with our Lycanthropy. As much as we appreciate the help, we have to take the lead on some aspects,' she said, wondering why she felt the need to justify herself. Most of the others seemed to accept her explanation, but she did notice Ron's face redden further. She sighed.

'OK; that's a good place to start,' said Minerva. 'Personally, I think Greyback must be using a spell or a potion. While I don't want to rule anything out just yet, I do believe that this is where we should focus our efforts. Agreed?'

Nods greeted these words.

'So, do we involve the Ministry?' asked Slughorn. 'Do we tell Kingsley? I don't like the thought of taking on Greyback unsupported. What if we get a lead on him; do we involve the Aurors?'

'No,' replied Harry immediately. He looked up. 'At least, not yet. Some of you heard Kingsley at the Burrow. He does support us in private, but he can't support us publicly. If word gets out that Hermione and I are werewolves, our lives won't be worth living. There are far too many people who would like to see us knocked off the pedestal they have placed us on. And if that wasn't enough, Greyback has really stoked up the hatred with his recent attacks.' He looked grim. 'We don't have our enemies to seek. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather we kept this to ourselves for now. At least until we get more information. If we do get a fix on Greyback then we can look at this question again.'

Hermione looked at each of the people in the room and watched as the realisation that Harry was correct dawned on them. She heard Minerva begin to speak again, but uncharacteristically phased her out as she moved her gaze from one person to the next, straining her senses as she did so. It was as if she was silently evaluating each one; measuring them and assessing their strength and their commitment. Finally, her gaze settled on Ron and she experienced a sudden feeling of unease as she watched him. He seemed deeply uncomfortable – agitated - and as she turned her attention back to Minerva, she realised that she had to speak to her boyfriend as a matter of urgency. There were things that needed to be said and feelings were going to be hurt.

It has to be done, though. There's too much at stake.

oOoOoOo

Just over an hour later, Hermione found herself at the rear of the group descending the stairs from Minerva's office. Bill had flooed back to Gringotts and Ginny to the Burrow, but before Ron could follow his sister, she'd grabbed his sleeve and had given him a gentle tug.

'Do you have a few minutes?' she'd asked. 'We need to talk.'

He'd looked for a moment as if he was going to refuse her, but he'd finally nodded his head and allowed himself to be led from the office. Of course, Harry had noticed what was going on and it took all of her willpower not to acknowledge the look of concern on his face. This was one occasion where she emphatically did not want his input. She'd deliberately waited, still clutching Ron's sleeve, until she'd seen her other friend reluctantly leave the room.

Now as she walked side-by-side with Ron on the stairs, she could not think of a time when she felt further apart from him. As they finally exited the stairs into the seventh-floor corridor, she decided to head towards the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. She thought it best to have this conversation in a place that could be considered neutral and she could not think of a more suitable place than the common room they had shared for six years.

After giving the password on request, she led them both through the portrait hole to what was very familiar territory. Feeling rather unsure of herself, she headed towards the sofa that was situated in front of the fireplace and sat down. She was not surprised when Ron elected to sit in the armchair furthest away from her. She closed her eyes, trying to steel herself for what was to come but before she could compose her thoughts she was startled when Ron opened the conversation. Her carefully rehearsed speech went out of the window at his words.

'It's OK. I know why you want to talk. You're dumping me, aren't you?' There was a touch of venom in his tone.

'Ron…I…It's not…' She stopped, composing herself. 'I'm not "dumping" you, Ron. That suggests that I don't want anything to do with you.'

He arched his eyebrow. 'So, you're not dumping me, then? We're still together, are we?'

'It's not that simple, Ron. You know it's not that simple.'

'Actually, it is that simple, Hermione. You are trying to tell me that you don't think we should be in a relationship any more, aren't you? Therefore, you're dumping me.'

Admitting defeat, she looked at her hands in her lap and nodded. 'I don't like hearing it put like that,' she finally managed. 'It sounds too hard. Too cruel.'

'But it is hard. It is cruel,' Ron replied, and she could hear the emotion in his voice. 'I thought we were good together. I know we have our issues. I know we sometimes argue and stuff, but I thought we were good together. I've liked you for ages. I thought you felt the same?'

She detected more than a hint of accusation in his tone but reined in her own rising temper. She needed to remain calm for both their sakes. 'I did, Ron. Truly I did. I fancied you for a long time. You must know that? But this isn't working. Couples are supposed to make each other happy, aren't they? Do you honestly think we make each other happy?'

'We did, once. We've made each other happy, Hermione.'

'We did when we weren't a couple!' she retorted. 'Can you honestly say that you're happy right now? That I've made you happy? Can you?'

He looked away from her when she asked that and that was all the answer she needed. 'I'm sorry, Ron. I really am. I do love you, just not in the way you want me to. We just don't work as a couple. I feel as if we are always trying to make it work. It all feels very forced. We fight too often. I hate fighting with people I love, and I do love you, Ron. You're one of the most important people in my life.'

'One of. That's the problem, right there, isn't it?'

'Ron?'

'I've never been the most important, have I? Not even when I was your boyfriend. It was never me; it was always Harry, wasn't it?'

So, there it is. I was wondering how long it would take until Harry was dragged into this.

'You know why Harry took priority. Voldemort was trying to kill him! You prioritised him too. We both did. There was a war to be fought and won. Harry was the key to that,' she added.

'Breaking news, Hermione: we won the damn war. It's over. Yet it's still all about Harry, isn't it? I was watching you earlier, you know. I could see that you were holding hands.'

She closed her eyes. 'He's my friend, Ron. My best friend. He's hurting right now. So am I.'

'So am I, Hermione. So are a lot of people,' Ron replied, and she could hear the pain in his voice and knew she was talking about Fred.

'I know, Ron, and I'm sorry. Maybe that's another reason we should stop seeing each other? We're not at our best at the moment. Any of us.'

He seemed to consider her words for a moment before replying. 'But shouldn't we pull closer together when we're hurting? Shouldn't that be the times when we comfort each other?' he asked.

She considered his words for a moment. 'Maybe, Ron. Maybe. But answer me this: if we're comforting each other, who is comforting Harry?'

She watched him grimace at her question before he replied.

'I dunno. Ginny? He could have gone with Ginny, couldn't he? Anyway; you're proving my point. I asked you if I was ever the most important to you, didn't I? You've certainly answered me, haven't you? Harry was always more important.'

'Harry was facing greater challenges! He needed me more! He still does! If you had to deal with what he's faced and is facing, you'd take priority. Don't you get it?'

'No, Hermione, I don't. But Harry seems to. He wins again, doesn't he?'

She gasped out loud at this statement.

'Wins? Wins? This isn't a competition, Ron Weasley! I am not some prize; some trinket awarded for good behaviour! Harry has no one else. NO ONE. He has me and he has you; no one else. If you can't see that then there is no help for you. If you are actually capable of being this selfish then it's no wonder we don't work together. Harry is the greatest friend either of us could ever have and if you can't see that then you don't deserve to call him your friend. He needs us both right now. Really needs us. So yes; you're right. You're not the most important person in my life right now, Ron. Harry is!' she exclaimed, breathing hard after delivering her tirade.

'And he always will be, won't he?' Ron answered, and his voice was quiet now. 'It's one thing after another with him, isn't it?'

'Yes, Ron, it is. And just when it looks like he might be able to catch a break, I go and turn him into a werewolf.' She actually laughed as she said this; a little hysterical giggle that escaped her lips. Then she put her face in her hands and sobbed as the enormity of everything hit home.

Ron Weasley sat looking at his – now - ex-girlfriend as she wept in front of him. Her reaction surprised him because Hermione was not someone you could ever accuse of being weepy. Brilliant? Yes. Scary? Most definitely. Emotional? Passionate? Oh, hell, yes. But not weepy. Never that. He was more comfortable when she was shouting at him.

Yet recently she had been prone to crying, he realised. It was something of an epiphany for Ronald Bilius Weasley. For someone who possessed the emotional range of a teaspoon, it was a significant realisation.

Hermione is clearly struggling to cope, and all this crying is very unlike her.

A strange new feeling affected him, and it took a few moments for him to realise what it was.

Remorse.

When looking back in years to come, Ron would recognise this moment as one of the main turning points of his life. But that was in the future; right now, he was oblivious to the significance of his next move, so it was to his eternal credit that he swallowed the anger and the resentment he was feeling. It was to his credit that he realised – in a moment of clarity – just what an utter arse he was. And it was also to his credit that he decided to do something about it. He stood and very gingerly approached Hermione before sitting down next to her on the couch. He felt her tense as soon as he did, so it was with a feeling of trepidation that he placed his arms around her.

'I'm sorry.'

Two words that nearly broke her. She turned into his embrace and cried. She cried for all of them, in the end. For herself; for the breakdown of her relationship with Ron; for Harry and everything he endured. For the loss of innocence. They remained like that for some time before she finally started to compose herself and pull out of his embrace.

'I'm sorry too,' she finally whispered. 'For everything. I didn't mean to hurt you, Ron.'

'You've nothing to apologise for. I…I'm…I reckon I just proved that I don't deserve you, Hermione.' He swallowed. 'You're an amazing person, you know. Really quite incredible. You deserve the very best, and the very best isn't me,' he added quietly.

She pulled back from him abruptly so she could see him better. 'Don't say that, Ron. You are a good man. A great person! One of the best I know.'

'Exactly, Hermione. There's that phrase again. "One of." But not the best. We both know that to be true, don't we? If I was the best, I wouldn't say such horrible things to you. If I was the best, in my darker moments I wouldn't feel jealous of my best mate, even though I know deep down he's had everything that matters taken from him.'

Hermione was shaking her head at his words, as if in denial, but Ron ploughed on.

'If I was the best, Hermione, I wouldn't make you cry and I wouldn't feel a little uncomfortable because you're a werewolf, would I?' he asked softly.

This got a reaction. 'But that's not your fault! I attacked you! I nearly killed you! Cursed you!'

'I know. And I also know that wasn't really you who did that, it was the wolf. But I still feel uncomfortable. And the thing is; the really telling thing is that you also attacked Harry and you actually did curse him. Is he uncomfortable with you? Has he treated you differently? Does he blame you? Does he make you cry?'

She considered his words for a moment.

Not in the way you do, Ron. I don't cry often, but when Harry does make me cry, it's tears of pride that fall; tears of compassion. Of love.

She was suddenly struck by this simple truth.

'I'll say it again, Hermione. You are a remarkable person. You deserve the best. We both know who that is, don't we?'

After a moment, she nodded, her affirmation feeling like a betrayal of some sort. 'Oh, Ron. I don't know what to say.'

'Don't say anything. It won't help the hurt.'

Tears welled in her eyes again. 'I do love you, Ron. I hope you realise that.'

He nodded. 'I do, Hermione. Just not the way I would like.' He gave what could only be described as an ironic grimace. 'More like a brother, right?' he whispered.

He stood up abruptly and placed himself in front of the empty fireplace, his back to her, one hand on the mantelpiece. 'Are you going to be OK?' he asked. 'It's just that, if you don't mind, I'd like to be on my own for a bit.'

Through her tears, she nodded. 'I'm fine, Ron, thanks. You can go if you want.' She looked up as he turned to face her and she held out her hand to him, almost beseechingly. 'I'm so sorry, Ron.'

He took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. 'I know. So am I. For everything.'

'Are we going to be OK?' she asked. 'I need you in my life, Ron.'

He nodded. 'We'll be fine. I'd be lost without you too. We've been through too much together. Just needs a bit of time, that's all. I'm still here for you. For both of you,' he added.

With that said, he released her hand and headed for the portrait hole. She didn't turn to watch him leave and only knew he had gone when the sound of his footsteps finally disappeared.

She lifted her head and gazed into the empty fireplace, lost in her thoughts. Eventually, she felt her eyelids drooping and she settled down deeper into the couch. It had been an emotionally exhausting day and she didn't feel like facing anyone else for the moment. Eventually, she drifted off sleep, grateful for the oblivion…

…when she woke several hours later, she became aware of a familiar feeling of warmth; of comfort. She had enjoyed a very pleasant dream and – strange as it seemed to her now - had felt protected and loved even as she slept. It took her a few moments to fully waken and a few more to realise that someone had placed a blanket around her as she slept. She inhaled deeply, her senses recognising the scent immediately.

Harry.

She smiled as she closed her eyes again.

Of course, it was Harry. Who else would it be?

oOoOoOoOo

As the 'council of war' finally came to an end, Harry took his time as everyone stood to leave, gathering their belongings as they did so. Bill – understandably – was the first to depart, flooing directly to Gringotts. He was quickly followed by Ginny who gave him a brief smile before stepping into the flames and returning to the Burrow.

He watched as Ron made to follow her but was halted by Hermione grabbing his sleeve and asking him to wait. Having a good idea why she had done this, Harry also decided to wait to see if she needed any support, but it became very clear, very quickly that she did not want him to get involved. Sighing, he headed off down the stairs, following in the wake of Poppy and Professor Slughorn who were talking animatedly to each other about potions supplies.

On reaching bottom of the stairs he found himself undecided as to where to go next. He had originally intended on going to the common room but had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione may already have plans for using that room. Making a quick decision, he ducked out of sight behind a nearby pillar and waited until his two friends appeared.

I was right, he thought to himself as he watched them approach the Fat lady. He felt a sudden degree of sadness as he knew what his two friends were about to discuss and as they had passed, he had sensed the tension between them. He only hoped that they remained friends.

He carefully peered around the pillar, making sure that they had entered Gryffindor Tower before coming out of his improvised hiding place.

'What are you doing, Mr Potter?'

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing Professor McGonagall's voice. He turned to face her, flustered.

'I was…I'm just…' he began.

'Well, whatever it was you were doing, you can finish it later. I wanted a quick word with you, but you left before I had the chance. Come; walk with me,' she added. 'I need to speak to Filius so you can accompany me to his room.'

Harry did as bidden, falling into step next to the Headmistress as she headed for the staircase. They walked in silence for a few moments before Minerva finally spoke.

'I know from what you told us at the Burrow that you are familiar with Severus' story?' she asked quietly.

This floored him. While he had not known what the Headmistress wanted to discuss with him, her opening gambit had taken him completely by surprise.

'I am somewhat familiar with it,' he replied cautiously.

'Then you will know that Severus grew up in a place called Cokeworth?'

'I didn't actually,' He shrugged as Minerva turned to face him. 'I saw in the pensieve memory what his childhood town looked like, but I never knew what it was called,' he explained.

Minerva nodded, satisfied with his answer. 'Well; Severus grew up in a place called Spinner's End. It's in Cokeworth, a town in the Midlands, I think. The thing is, he never relinquished ownership of that place,' she added.

'He didn't?'

'No. He maintained it a residence of sorts, even to the end.'

'Really? Bloody hell!' Harry was surprised and didn't notice Minerva's look of disapproval at his outburst. He knew Snape's childhood home would have contained some very bad memories for him. He briefly wondered how he would feel if given possession of Number 4, Privet Drive, and asked to live there again.

Live there? I'd burn that place to the ground if given the chance.

'Why would he want to live there?' he finally asked.

'It would not have been through choice, I can assure you,' answered Minerva. 'He would have required somewhere discreet; somewhere Voldemort would accept as secure and not controlled by Albus.'

Harry nodded, accepting this explanation at face value. 'So why are you telling me this?'

'Because if Severus did create a potion such as we seek, then it is likely that he would have done so somewhere discreet. There is nothing here at Hogwarts to suggest he was working on such a thing. No; if he was doing this at Voldemort's behest, then Spinner's End is a good place to start looking.'

He considered Minerva's words for a moment, not entirely convinced, but accepting the logic in at least checking the place out.

'Of course, your mother grew up near Severus. Her home town was Cokeworth too,' Minerva added casually. 'You might want to have a wander round when you visit.'

Harry stopped walking and gave Minerva what can only be described as a look. For her part, Minerva turned to face him with an expression of such innocence that he could only laugh.

'It's OK, Professor. I would have gone anyway without manipulation. No need to channel your inner Albus,' he said with a smile.

'Good,' replied Minerva. 'Then I suggest you start making plans. I take it you will not be going alone?' she asked as she approached Professor Flitwick's office.

Harry's thoughts turned immediately to Hermione. 'No, I won't be going alone,' he whispered to her retreating back.

oOoOoOo

Just over an hour later, Harry tentatively approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, figuring he had waited long enough. After his conversation with Minerva, he had suddenly realised that he was hungry so had headed down to the kitchens where he had found many obliging House Elves who were only too willing to make him a sandwich. And anything else they thought he might need. He had enjoyed their company so much that he'd lost track of the time and it was only when one of the elves mentioned the need to start preparing for dinner that he'd realised how long he had been there.

So, he had expressed his gratitude and departed, heading for Gryffindor Tower. Now that he'd arrived, he wondered if his two friends were still inside talking, or whether their conversation was over.

Only one way to find out, I suppose.

After stating the password, he stepped through the opened portrait hole and cast his eyes around the room.

Nothing.

He scowled in frustration, and just as he began to speculate on the whereabouts of his friends, he realised that he could hear something.

Breathing. Very soft, very quiet breathing.

Very carefully, he made his way towards the fireplace and when he discovered the source of the noise, he couldn't help but smile.

Hermione.

She was sound asleep, and it occurred to him that this was the most peaceful he had seen her in weeks. She looked beautiful now that she was at rest. He quietly drew nearer to her and as the detail emerged, he frowned as he noticed the streaks on her cheeks and the redness around her closed eyes and realised that she had been crying.

I hate it when she cries.

He wondered what her tears meant; what had caused her to cry. Were she and Ron still friends? Was it anger? Sadness? Both?

He shook his head and crouched down next to her as she lay on the couch. Despite her tears, she looked at peace and his heart broke for her. She had given everything it was possible for someone to give. He did not know of anyone so selfless and he'd be grateful to his dying day that she was his friend. He tentatively reached out a hand as if to stroke her hair, but she stirred slightly, and he froze, his arm held just above her head until she settled again, and he felt able to withdraw. Very cautiously, he lowered his hand, stood and backed away from her, noticing her shiver slightly as he did so. He realised that the common room was quite cool, despite the warmth of the day outside.

He moved around the back of the couch before taking out his wand.

'Accio blanket,' he whispered and waited a few moments before reaching out and plucking the blanket that he had summoned from his bed out of the air as it streaked towards him. Very, very carefully, he reached over the back of the couch and gently placed the blanket over her, tucking the corners in where he could. Once he had done this, he hesitantly leaned over her and placed the merest whisper of a kiss on her forehead. He could have sworn the corners of her mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles.

'Sleep well, love,' he breathed as he backed away, a feeling of pure peace within him.

Sleep well.