BLUES

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I'm Rocio Senalda, a fifteen-year-old pseudo-author who has to make up fake names for herself on the Internet in order to write strange, escapist fantasies about being a wizard. She's J.K. Rowling. Remind me, who owns all the HP characters? I'm confused.

Author's Note: This is a short chapter, I know, and it might seem a little off-kilter because it never switches scenery. I hope it isn't horrid. :)

* * * * *

The relatives and friends Apparated back to their homes. Most of them left food, for which Ron was especially grateful.

But, he was also confused. The worst possible thing one can do when one is confused is to go and visit a teenage girl, especially one with regards to whom one has romantic aspirations.

Ron went to go and visit Hermione.

He found her in Ginny's room, but Ginny was inexplicably not there. She had folded her knees up to her chest and bent her head down, embracing it with her arms and weeping bitterly. Water dripped off of her and onto the surrounding cotton sheets. She didn't detect his presence, and he didn't really want to go in there – but what choice did he have? What choice did he ever have? He had never been the type of guy to hang around outside a doorway rather than enter, especially where Hermione was concerned. He wasn't going to let this newfound sense of desire and belonging intimidate him.

And, in more ways than one, he'd gone too far to retreat.

"Hermione."

Her head snapped so rapidly he was momentarily afraid that she'd develop whiplash. "Ron?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you keep getting to me in my moments of reverie?" she asked weakly, swiping at her eyes and trying to cover her vulnerability. He wasn't fooled, of course.

There was a short minute when she thought he wouldn't answer, that he was ignoring her; he persisted in looking at her expressionlessly, which she reviled because it was so incredibly unlike Ron. Normally, she could read him like a book – like her old, battered copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"Take a guess," he finally said.

She feigned contemplation. "You're a sadist?" This, the banter, the faux insults – these were the roles they could always rely upon, even when everything collapsed gracelessly around them.

"Far from it. The opposite of it, actually."

"You're as clear as pumpkin juice."

"I came to see if you were all right." It wasn't entirely a lie, he supposed.

"Oh." And without further answering him, she stood and walked over to the window. She leaned her body into the wall, sensed the cool surface meld with her drenched clothing, wondered why she didn't feel anything. "It's almost dark outside."

He blinked at the variation of topic. "It's going to storm."

"I suppose. It's been an unusually rainy October."

"Unusually rainy," he repeated mechanically.

"Yeah. D'you ever remember it storming this much?"

In his mind, there was a faded visual of her, figuratively walking down a dusty road away from him and off into a proverbial sunset alone. Every comment on the weather, every second she wouldn't meet his eyes edged the distance farther. An emotional haze was obscuring her from his view, and as she started to vanish, he couldn't think of anything to stop her. He had vague, resistant wonderings: Was this really who they were? Ron and Hermione didn't sit here and have these futile conversations about nothing when all this something stood in between them. Ron and Hermione were pals. Ron and Hermione looked out for each other, and looked out for Harry, and right now, Ron and Hermione weren't doing too much of either.

"No," he said softly. "I don't remember anything like this. Are you going to look at me, Hermione?"

"Why? Have you gotten a new haircut or something?" This was a frail retort, and the shakiness of her voice denoted that she knew it.

"No. But just... look at me, and let me know you're still – here."

She turned on him with watery eyes that made his knees tremble, though he would never have admitted it.

"Yes," she replied, not even bothering to pretend she didn't understand. "I'm still here."

"Good." To himself, and under his breath, "I need you to be."

"And are you still here, Ron?"

Ha. No. As if. Innumerable galaxies away. She had no idea.

But then, she just might.

"I'm not here, I'm in this other surreal universe where my brothers are dead and the rest of the world is dominated by a seventy-year-old Slytherin outcast on a power trip, and people bow to him and call him 'Master' and do all his dirty deeds for him, and where my entire family transfigured into robots overnight, and where someone I love is constantly crying."

The 'someone I love' thing had apparently gone right over her head, or perhaps she had chosen to take it ambiguously to mean Ginny, or his mother, or something. Either way, Hermione paid it no mind – which was good, because he'd been referring to her, and he hadn't meant to say it.

Two days ago, she would have hugged him. But two days ago, she'd done just that, and he had kissed her, and she didn't think she could stomach that right now. So she said, "I have no idea what to say to you."

"Anything. Just say anything."

There was a slight pause, whilst she suppressed a nervous reflex to touch him by returning to her perch on the edge of the bed.

"Do you want me to tell you it's going to turn out all right?"

"The Hermione I know would probably have done something similar."

"But what if she lied?" She smiled a strange, jaded smile he'd never seen her wear before. He didn't particularly think it favored her complexion.

"I don't believe it would be a lie."

"You don't?"

"No. Well, sort of. Let me rephrase: I think the world will be fine, and I know you will be."

"What about you?"

"That would be the part that isn't quite as crystal." He proffered a disarming grin, the likes of which even Lockhart couldn't conquer. She wasn't fooled, of course.

"Oh, Ron."

"What?"

"Don't say that."

"Don't say 'what'?"

"Don't say that you're not going to be okay. Don't even think it, because you'll be just fine."

He stood about a foot in front of her and looked down seriously. "And who's going to offer me a warrant on that? Are you?"

There were so many undercurrents to this game; it was like a two-step. This question, that answer, that question, this answer, question, answer – did it ever end? Did the questions ever expire? What would happen when they couldn't even find answers anymore?

"Yes, if I have to."

"Well, you can't. You can't guarantee anything. If life could be protected like that, then someone would have hell to pay for terminating Fred and George's contract."

"Ron... Ron, what's wrong?"

Ron was clutching his forehead in much the same way Harry often did. The pigment was totally sapped from his skin, and he was perspiring heavily.

"My... head hurts."

"Here, lie down." She gently shoved him down on her bed and placed a hand to his skin. "My God, you're burning up!"

Tears were actually glinting in his eyes. Hermione was genuinely alarmed.

"Ugh...ohhh," moaned Ron.

"Ron, talk to me, what's wrong?" What just happened? It wasn't – it couldn't be – Voldemort had better not –

Not going to consider that. Concentrate on Ron. Yes. Good.

"I'm really hot," he said weakly. His head jerked. She didn't know anything about seizures, and she vehemently hoped he wasn't having one.

She tried a cooling spell and a healing spell and several other spells whose functions she couldn't even remember, all to no effect. Ron started ripping at his own clothes, but his arms were shuddering erratically and seemed drained of all their former strength. Hermione's wand knocked the floor as she went to help him.

Ginny and Harry must've heard the harsh, brittle yelps emitted by Hermione's panicked throat, because they appeared in the room's entrance.

"Hermione?"

"What's going on?"

"I, I don't know! Go get Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, anybody! And some ice water!"

They ran.

* * * * *

Author's Note: (Yeah, another one.) Don't worry - this cliffhanger is different than when Hermione was unconscious on Ron's bed. I promise! I just wanted to tell you that now so that you aren't like, "Yeah, Rocio's a manipulative bitch, nothing's gonna happen..." :P Oh, has anyone found any part of this story confusing - and if so, what part(s)? I got a review to that effect, and I want to fix it so that no one is at all lost, but I'm not really sure how because, being the author, I get it all just fine. Comments? Thanks! And have a nice day!