A/N: Thanks for all your welcomes, I'm glad to be back too. Yes, Hermione was rather forward (so was I! You know how 'safe' I usually am, I quite surprised myself – and sorry about the porn Meegs, hehe). Anyway, read on. ~nm3x5s~ Shez … PS – Woohoo, SweetestThing, my Aussie buddy! How weird to hear fanfic people talking about Rove, Cat Empire, etc.! PPS – Trav, Trav, Trav. Ron doesn't know what happens privately between Ginny and Harry, and therefore neither do you (or even I). You must accept this, padawan, as a fact of this fic, and take what you receive. *grin* Don't worry. My next fic will be HG, and then you can have the 'whole story' to your heart's content.

~

Ron made sure he fetched Hermione from her room (the second night in a row he'd woken her) before he went out into the grounds. He considered asking Ginny, but remembered that boys couldn't get up to the girls' dormitory, and decided not to try. She could find out in the morning.

He brought Harry's invisibility cloak with him, and managed to hustle a very sleepy Hermione underneath it and into the cold air, explaining all the way. She soon woke up with the news, and they were striding out to Hagrid's hut, Hermione moving even faster than his long legs.

Once they were reached the door (which was slightly ajar) and Ron pushed it open, the first thing they saw was Hagrid's wide, dirty back. He was facing the fire, his hulking form hunched over, and Harry was sitting by his side.

Hermione broke into a very wide smile – the kind that she used rarely, but which never ceased to make him smile too – and half-ran to the gamekeeper.

"Hagrid," she said, trying to be quiet, and mostly failing. He started and turned, and Hermione stopped in her tracks. He looked awful. His face was a mess of bruises and dried blood, and his eyes were sunken back into his head. His nose looked broken, and when he managed a sort of smile, Ron realised that his lips were cracked with cold and old wounds.

"Oh my God," Hermione breathed.

"'Mione," Hagrid said hoarsely. "Hello, love."

"Oh my God," she repeated, biting back a sob now. She moved quickly to him and put her arms around his neck, and he, very slowly, returned her hug. He seemed uncertain, as though he hadn't touched anybody in a long time. When she let go of him, he put his hands back on his knees immediately.

Ron was still in the doorway, but came forward now and stood behind Hermione, who was kneeling at Hagrid's feet.

"Fuck me," he said softly, and Hermione didn't even correct him.

"No welcome?" Hagrid joked weakly, and Ron shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Welcome back. I mean – just – what happened?"

"Wha' happened?" Hagrid muttered. "Tha's a very long story, Ron Weasley."

"Tell it," Harry said shortly. Ron glanced at him. His eyes were on the floor, but on profile he looked unbelievably tense and angry; the muscles of his face were almost twitching.

"Alrigh'," Hagrid said, so quietly Ron had to lean forward to hear. He tightened his grip on Hermione's shoulder and she put her hands on Hagrid's in encouragement.

At just that moment, the door opened once more, and Lupin, Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall came striding in. Dumbledore looked composed, Snape looked grouchy, McGonagall looked like she hadn't done her hair (no surprise, if she'd come straight from sleep) and Lupin had that now-familiar pinch of worry at the corner of his eyes.

"Potter," Snape snarled, "you're out of bed."

"So are we," Ron protested.

"Let them be, Severus," Dumbledore said. "They've been as fearful for their friend as the rest of us."

Ron hated himself, very briefly. The truth was, he'd given up on Hagrid, and in these past months had almost forgotten about him. Every now and again, his memories would rise up, and he'd push them down again so that he wouldn't have to remember Hagrid and the fact that he wasn't around.

Now he had to remember him, and it made him feel guilty that he'd been trying not to.

But nobody was watching the three of them now. They all had their gazes fixed on Hagrid, who seemed to be trying not to cry.

"Oh Hagrid," Dumbledore said, in a gruff voice that was quite unlike his own.

At that point, Hagrid broke down and wept.

Ron didn't know what to do. He hovered uncertainly, even as Hermione stroked Hagrid's hands, and Dumbledore swept forward to embrace the big man. Lupin moved to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry shrugged it off, but Lupin stayed where he was.

"I'll fetch Madame Pompfrey," McGonagall said gravely, and left. Snape remained in the doorway, his expression unchanging.

When Hagrid's tears had slowed somewhat, Dumbledore released him and looked hard at Harry, then Ron, then Hermione.

"I'd ask you to return to your respective rooms," he said, "but I think it's important that you hear this. That we all hear this. Particularly you, Harry."

Harry didn't move. He still would not look up.

And, with Dumbledore's coaxing, the whole story did come out.

Hagrid had gone to see the giants again, they all knew that, but this time without Madame Maxime – he'd had a falling out with her some time before. He travelled confidently, and finally reached his half-brother Grawp's clan (Grawp having been transported back to his traditional community earlier). All was going along nicely for months, and Hagrid was just beginning to consider his return to Hogwarts, when other events came into play.

There were new arrivals at the giants' camp – Death Eaters attempting to convert the giants completely to the side of Voldemort. Where Hagrid had offered sensible reasoning and promises of reconciliation with the wizarding world if they joined Dumbledore's Army, they offered precious gifts and promises of lordship over wizards and Muggles alike. Hagrid was able to remain out of sight when the Death Eater emissaries made their various pleas, and planned a quiet escape, but in the end was spotted and recognised – just as the giant leader had decided to join Voldemort.

It was extremely poor timing.

Hagrid was kept in a cave, alone, and interrogated constantly. They attempted to draw from him all the things he knew about Hogwarts and Harry. He gave them tidbits when he had to, but was able to retain most secrets. They beat him – Dumbledore couldn't get much out of Hagrid in terms of details, but it seemed that the violence went on quite constantly for the several months of his confinement.

Finally, Hagrid had managed to contact Grawp, and his half-brother had snuck him out under cover of darkness. He'd been making his way back to Hogwarts ever since.

When he'd finished his long and horrible account, Hagrid sat back in his chair, trembling, and wouldn't say another word. Dumbledore was very still for a time, and then stood abruptly.

"Poppy," he said, and Madame Pompfrey scooted out of the shadows.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"You and Severus can help Hagrid up to the Infirmary. Put him in a bed, and then let him sleep."

"I wouldn't want him to do anything else," she said firmly. She and Snape put an arm each around him and helped him to his feet, walking in the direction of the door.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore went on.

"Albus?"

"See that the dog has water and food."
She didn't bat an eyelid, but followed Snape and Pomfrey outside.

Now Dumbledore looked at Lupin.

"Remus, I want you to take Harry to my office. I need to speak with him."

"Of course."

Harry stood then and walked off himself, without a goodbye. A few moments later, Lupin went after him, and Dumbledore turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I suggest," he said gently, "that you go to bed, now."

"But Professor, can't we know what's going to happen?" Ron asked shakily, surprising himself with his own daring. Dumbledore shook his head again, rather sadly.

"Not now," he said. "In the morning, perhaps, but not now."

"But –"

"Mr Weasley," he interrupted. "Ms Granger is too tired to keep her eyes open. Please escort her back to her rooms."

Ron bit her lip, and then forced the necessary reply. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore."

He put an arm about Hermione's waist and she stood silently. She'd been crying, and he didn't know what to do – that was the one thing that always made him feel useless, girls crying, especially her. He found it strange that she didn't have things to say, or opinions to offer about all this, but didn't question her. He just walked her out.

The last thing he saw was Dumbledore standing by the fire, his straight back slowly slouching. He seemed old suddenly, and Ron found that thought so unsettling that he quickly shut the door and marched his girlfriend up to the castle.

~

He'd never seen Hermione like this. It was like she was half-comatose or something, seeing Hagrid so messed up. At least, he thought that must be it. He literally had to put her to bed – take off her shoes, pull back the covers, lay her down, and pull them back up again. He hesitated at her side, then quickly kissed her cheek and made to leave, ready to think about all of it in peace.

"Ron …" she said, just as he was walking away. He turned, and saw her watching him.

"Hey," he returned softly. "Maybe you should sleep."

"Come here."

"Alright."

She sat up, and he moved onto her bed, beside her. There was a relatively extended silence.

"Hagrid looked awful," she said eventually.

"I know. But he's OK now."

"Nothing's OK now."

"What do you mean?"

"This is it. This is where it starts again."

Ron glanced about the room, half expecting things to leap out at him. "What 'it'?" he asked, and she frowned impatiently.

"Don't pretend like Voldemort doesn't exist," she said. "I hate it."

Ah. Voldemort.

"I don't pretend he doesn't exist," he said defensively, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Really? Say his name then."

"I – don't want to."

"There you are."

"I just don't feel like it!"

"Ron. Don't you see? The Death Eaters went to the giants, and now have them on side. They've probably been to see all Voldemort's old allies too. It's not like Hagrid escaped without them knowing."

"Eh?"

"They let him. So we'd know they were moving up in the world when he came home to us."

"Hermione, that's bloody stupid."

"Don't –" she began, and he cut her off.

"Don't don't me OK? You're making this something it isn't."

"I'm not, Ron. This is what it is. We've had the whole of last year and half of this one as a kind of reprieve, and that's all we get until he's gone. It's going to happen soon. I feel it."

"You feel it," he scoffed uneasily. "That's – that's ridiculous."

"You do too," she said softly. "You just don't want to admit it."

Another long silence in which Hermione fiddled with her pyjamas, and Ron tried to compose himself to speak properly.

"'Mione," he said eventually, "maybe you're right. Maybe he is coming back. But we always knew he would, didn't we?"

She nodded silently, and, seeing this, he continued.

"Right. We knew that. And you're right – I have been pretending he doesn't exist this year. I was thinking too much about other things. About – I don't know, being a kid, enjoying myself. Being with you. And now that Hagrid's back and all these 'signs' of You-Know-Who are coming out … well, I don't want to change the way I live."

"We'll have to," she commented soberly.

"We'll have to be more ready," he conceded. "And more wary and all that. But I mean I don't want to stop – enjoying life, just because he's around. He'd love that, wouldn't he?"

The silence this time was the longest of all, and then Hermione moved onto his lap. It surprised him for a second, and then she was so pleasantly warm that he forgot to feel surprised. Her arms went around his waist.

"I'm scared for you," she murmured.

"What? Why?"

"Because," she said, her voice almost completely muffled in his shirt. "I've said it before. Wherever Harry goes, you'll go. You're just that kind of guy."

"What, a follower?" he said, rather bitterly, and she shook her head against his chest.

"No. A friend. The best kind."

"Is that what you were thinking about before?"

"Yes. A bit." She looked up at him. "Why do you have to be so bloody noble?"

He blinked at her a few moments, and then nudged her with his knee. "No swearing, young lady," he said, "or I'll have you out on your ear."
She sighed in reply, and they sat like that until she began to fall asleep again, and he put her back into bed.

~

Ron lay thinking about Voldemort's imminent return and Hagrid being tortured (big Hagrid, who nobody but a supporter of You-Know-Who would ever have the arrogance to mess with) and Harry's strangeness and Lupin's obvious, near-parental anxiety. In fact, it filled his head up with so much doubt and fear, despite his brave words to Hermione, that he had to force himself to stop. He was just considering turning in when Harry came through the door. He pulled his curtains all the way open and beckoned to him, and Harry automatically moved to speak to him – that's how it looked anyway, automatic, like people saying 'ouch' when they hurt themselves.

"Hi," Ron said.

"Hi."

An awkward pause followed this.

"At least Hagrid's back, hey?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed dully. "That's great."

"And – and everything's going to be fine for him."

"I guess so."

"And –"

"Ron," Harry said loudly, and Ron stopped. Dean Thomas shifted in bed, and mumbled something. They both ignored him.

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, mate." He paused. "You don't even want to talk about – er, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"I don't fucking want to talk about it," Harry repeated, more forceful. "So don't."

Ron tried not take offence at this, and succeeded – just.

"OK," he said. "Goodnight."

Harry went to his own bed, changed into pyjamas, and got under the covers. Ron listened to the darkness, and finally Harry spoke again.

"Let's have a quidditch practice tomorrow," he said.

Ron turned his head to try and see his friend, but it was too dim in their room. "What, tomorrow? It's still only February."

"Season starts up again in March," said Harry. "We'll be early."

"Er – OK."

"After breakfast. I'll tell the team."

"Sure, Harry. We'll do it."

An hour later, Ron couldn't keep his eyes open – but he still hadn't heard Harry's breath slow from wakefulness to sleep when he drifted off.