"Crystal Tears"

* * * * *

Time fades away,

There's nothing there,

Where you once were,

Is now just bare.

Though I try to,

Fight the fears,

Nothing can stop,

These crystal tears.

* * *

Chapter Three...

They both stared at the copy of Romeo and Juliet which was sitting idle on Hermione's bed. Ron picked it up like it was a delicate feather and handled it lightly, skimming over each corner of the book and randomly flicking through pages. He did this for a few minutes before Hermione cracked.

"What on earth are you actually DOING?" she asked, grabbing it back off him.

"Just looking at it," he snapped, grabbing it back. He began to look through it again for another ten minutes before Hermione noticed a tear slide down his cheek.

For a slight moment, the old caring Hermione resurfaced and she held his shoulder. "Ron?" she asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

"No," he sniffed, pulling a red and gold hankerchief from his pocket and then proceeding to blow his nose very loudly, like an elephant.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione, trying to be sensitive but not let Ron and his gooey nose get anywhere near her.

"It's such a beautiful play..." he murmured, fondly continuing to read.

"RON!" scowled Hermione realising Ron was crying over the story and not the significance of the book. She grabbed it off him again and considered slapping him, only her hate for violence stopping her from doing just that.

After both had calmed down a bit and regained composure they sat and thought about what they should do about both the glasses and the book. Well at least they THOUGHT each other were thinking about what they should do. In reality, Hermione was wondering about Harry again and Ron was thinking about how this was the first time the usually inseperable trio- sorry, pair, were actually talking.

"So what do you think we should do?" Ron said, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," replied Hermione crossly. "Why should I have the answers to everything?"

Ron shook his hand and being serious for once frowned. "Herm, come on, you know I didn't mean it like that."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Yeah," she replied- dragging out her vocabulary for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Yeah, I know. Sorry," she added. Quickly, changing her mood and tone of voice though so Ron didn't think she was going all soft, she continued. "Well there isn't really anything we CAN do is there? I mean, we don't know anything about Harry for sure so therefore we can't make any moves. What if this is somebody's idea of a very sick joke?"

But what if it isn't, she said silently in her head. No matter how illogical this whole scenario seemed, Hermione couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope arising inside. She tried desperately to push away these thoughts but they remained- what if Harry was alive? What if it was HIM who'd been back in the castle? It would make sense wouldn't it?

Feeling a sudden urge of anger from being mad at herself, Hermione threw the copy of the book against the wall. Standing up, she yelled, "It can't be him! IT CAN'T BE!" throwing Ron completely out.

"Herms, calm down," he tried soothing her.

"Calm down? I will not calm down!"

"Whoa," muttered Ron, backing away to the door. As much as he wanted to be there for Hermione he honestly thought it was better she was left alone- particularly in her mood swings. Must be lack of sleep, he thought.

"Uh Herms, I'm going to go now."

"Don't call me HERMS!"

"Uh okay, sorry. Hermione, hope you feel uh... better soon. Talk to me if you want, you know you can!" He closed the door softly behind him.

Hermione ran into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. All of a sudden she hated who she was and who she was becoming.

"I hate you Dumbledore," she yelled, running her fingers down her tear stained cheeks.

"Now, now petal, that isn't a very nice thing to say," replied the mirror.

"I hate you mirror!" Hermione cried, throwing the nearest object at it (which happened to be 'Zonko's Best Ever Teeth Improver'), causing a rather large crack to appear.

"Ouch," said the mirror and shut up.

"I hate you Ron!" she added, banging her fists loudly on it.

"I hate you HARRY!" she let out in the loudest cry of them all.

"I hate you Hermione," she added in a sob before falling to the ground in a heap, clutching her knees around her chest and crying her heart out.

* * * * *

Hermione refused to leave the bathroom for two days and Dumbledore had to personally put a spell on her to get her to move. There was a crowd of mainly worried though a few amused looking Gryffindors waiting around outside for her. Dumbledore made them all stay back as he walked her to the Infirmary, having to hold her full body weight seeing as she was weak from not eating.

"Hermione! You all right?" called one person.

"Yo Granger! Get better!"

"Hey Beaver teeth- hope you feel better soon!"

"Hermione, don't stress out- you're a cool person, I guess."

Hermione ignored all these... encouraging... comments and tried to make herself as heavy as possible in hope that Dumbledore would collapse under her weight. But unfortunately for her, Dumbledore's strengths were far beyond just the mind and they made it to the Infirmary- Hermione more breathless than her headmaster.

Madam Pomfrey tutted over Hermione and forced her to lie still on a hospital bed. Hermione hated being fussed over but was so tired and drained that she couldn't be bothered fighting and just lay there awkwardly, while the nurse made a big deal over her.

"Undernourished..." she heard her say. "Too skinny..." "Very cold..." "The start of the flu..."

All of a sudden Hermione blacked out and didn't wake up for another five hours.

* * * * *

When she finally did awake, the first thing she saw was a bright bunch of colourful wild flowers, arranged neatly in a glass vase. Even she couldn't help but smile at this beautiful selection and leaned over to touch the soft silk petals of an iris.

"They're quite extraordinary aren't they?" Madam Pomfrey smiled, appearing miraculously at her side.

Hermione nodded. "Who are they from?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not terribly sure," replied Madam Pomfrey, frowning slightly. "They weren't here when I checked on you this morning but when I got back, there they were... I can't believe I didn't see the person come in."

Hermione also frowned. "Was there a card?"

"Yes I believe so," she carefully undid the ribbon from around a tiny gift card and handed it to Hermione to read.

She admired the flowers on the front of the card first, they were identical to the ones in the vase but they were slightly swaying in 'the breeze'. She opened it up and gasped.

Dearest Hermione,
Wishing you well and thinking of you.
--H

"Is there something wrong?" asked Madam Pomfrey, concerned at her patient who had just turned a ghastly shade of white.

"No," choked Hermione, trying to look normal. H? It had to be him, her mind tried processing a thousand mixed thoughts at once. "It's nothing... really," she assured her.

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly. "Well you need some more rest- I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. Have a good nap." Madam Pomfrey closed the curtain behind her as her footsteps faded away down the infirmary.

Rest? How could she rest in a time like this? Instead of napping, Hermione lay wide awake on her back, thinking and thinking. H... Harry... what was going on? She needed to know, and soon!

Author's Note: Short chapter I know- really sorry guys. Thanks for the sweet reviews though people- I appreciate them very much! Sorry I haven't been bringing out my chapters sooner- I'm writing them in all the spare time I have, which sadly, isn't very much right now. I'm also suffering from the dreaded flu and looking at a computer screen doesn't really do a whole lot of good for the dizziness and headaches. I hope to be back online soon though and the next chapter shouldn't take too long to write so keep an eye out for it. Thanks again for being so patient and thanks again for the reviews- they really do cheer one up!