Disclaimer: If it's any good, it's not mine.

Lost - part 4
by Veralidaine



Hermione sat up in bed, feeling very groggy and very miserable. For a second, she wondered why, then her
memory kicked in, and she bit back tears. Why did she have to be so horrible to him? He'd only been
trying to help...

She bunched the covers up around her shoulders and sat there, staring at the pillows, for a good five
minutes. The house was full of noise, which was perhaps why she'd woken. After all, it was three o'clock
in the afternoon, and she was usually awake by then, but today she'd managed to hurt the one person in
the world who she shouldn't have, and ended up crying herself to sleep. Again.

She heard laughter from downstairs, and lots of voices talking. Curious, she stepped out of bed, feeling
very cold, like one always does when one first wakes up, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
Very quietly, she opened the door to the hallway and shuffled to the stairs to take a peek into the
living room.

There was Sirius! And Harry! And Ron, who was sitting with them, smiled occasionally, but for the most
part looked preoccupied and sad. With a pang in her heart, Hermione realized that it was probably her
fault that he was so miserable. Her eyes were stinging again--she'd gotten used to it by now. It always
amazed her that no matter how many times she cried, there were ALWAYS more tears ready to come out. She
had a seemingly endless supply, and part of it was threatening to make an appearance.

Suddenly, Sirius looked up and saw her peeking around the corner. "Hermione! There you are!"

***

Harry glanced over at Hermione's pale little face peeking at them from the stairwell. She didn't look
well at all--she had dark circles under her eyes, and her face had lost most of its roundness and looked
thin and very, very pale. Still, he smiled, glad to see her.

She stepped out from behind the wall, timidly, and Harry saw that she had a quilt draped over her, so
only her head was visible. She offered a rather weak smile and just stood there, eyes flicking from him
to Ron, who was sitting in a nearby chair, not looking at her.

Harry walked over to her instead and grabbed her in a hug. She put her arms around him and the quilt
fell off, leaving her in her T-shirt and shorts, and Harry noticed how very thin she'd gotten. "'Mione,
have you eaten anything since last school year?"

She shrugged, pulling the blanket self-consciously around her shoulders again. "Yes," she muttered.

Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced at Ron, who seemed to have become very interested in the stack of
Witch Weekly magazines on the coffee table. He glanced back at Hermione. "Well, if you'd like, we can
talk about this later, okay?"

She nodded, somewhat reluctantly, and sat down on the couch, staring off into space. Harry sighed. She
wasn't doing well. And why was Ron so quiet? He hadn't mentioned anything to Harry...

He sighed again. Life was too complicated. No, not life; life with Voldemort. Yes. He was what made life
complicated. If it weren't for Voldemort, Harry would never have even met the Dursleys, Sirius would
never have been to Azkaban, Hermione would still have parents...The familiar sensation of true loathing
came over Harry as he thought about it. One of these days...

He was distracted from feeling hateful, though, as Ginny entered the living room, carrying a tray of
chocolate chip cookies and looking nervously from Ron to Hermione. She glanced at Harry and shrugged
nervously, setting the cookies down on the table and sitting down on the couch next to Hermione, looking
thoroughly apprehensive, wringing her hands in her lap. Harry glanced at Ron again, feeling rather
uncomfortable in the silence.

***

Ron stared at the magazines until he thought the words, "Witch Weekly" were probably burned into his
vision permanently. Well, she was acting like nothing had happened, still behaving like her spooky self.
Why should he let on that he was miserable? "Because you are," one part of him said. "Don't pretend you
aren't, because it's obvious anyway. You've never been one for suffering in silence, have you?"

SHUT UP, he thought, and stared at the magazines once more. Come to think of it, he thought, risking a
quick glance at Hermione, she didn't look too happy, either. Part of him, the argumentative part, was
still angry and hurt that she'd been so mean to him. The other part of him, though, still loved her more
than anything and wanted to forgive her. But she'd have to apologize first. Yes, he knew she'd been
traumatized. He knew she was miserable. But she'd also hurt him, and he wanted her to know that.

She glanced at him and held his gaze for a moment before he broke away, and went back to staring at the
magazines again. After a moment, he wasn't able to take the pressure, and stood up. "I think I'll go
send a quick owl to Charlie. Be right back."

Of course, he had no intention of being "right back." He went up the stairs quickly and slumped down at
his desk, sighing. He thought momentarily of actually writing to Charlie, but thought better of it, and
instead stood and allowed himself to collapse on his bed. 'Hey,' he thought. 'It worked for her, didn't
it? Maybe it'll work for me...'

***

Hermione knew he wasn't coming back down. Not for a while, anyway. She sighed, biting back tears yet
again. Harry kept shooting nervous glances at her, and she was not looking forward to having to tell him
about what happened. Especially between herself and Ron. That had been totally horrid on her part. And
she knew it, too.

But, Harry sighed and turned to her. "Hermione, d'you want to talk?"

She sighed. Well, it had to happen sometime, didn't it? "Okay. Outside?"

He nodded and followed her out. She sat down on the edge of the front porch, still hugging the tattered
quilt around her shoulders, and Harry sat down next to her. Neither one said anything, then he turned
and looked at her. Without even looking at him, she started crying. She wasn't sobbing, really, but
silent tears were sliding down her cheeks and she shook her head, miserable.

"Ron told me about your parents."

So Ron had written Harry about her. Well, that was to be expected.

"But I get the impression that there's something else going on around here. What's up between you and
Ron? You guys were awfully quiet back there."

She sighed raggedly and made herself meet his eyes. It was inevitable, after all. He showed nothing but
concern. Well, it was nice that she had two--well, one now, she reminded herself, holding back more
tears--people who cared about her that much. She closed her eyes and stopped crying. "Did he tell you
about...?"

"You sleeping all day? Yes, he mentioned that. He sounded really worried."

Darn it, just when she'd stopped crying. "Well, he came in this morning to try and make me get up and...
I-I yelled at him and it was...really mean of me, what I said, and I didn't really mean it but I'm so
scared, Harry, and I just wanted to sleep because when I sleep I don't have to worry about anything and
that way I'm not so scared anymore and I didn't want to get up and face the world because I just can't
take it anymore and so I was just horrible to him and it was just awful, Harry..." Here she took a very
deep breath and promptly started crying harder.

"What did you say?"

Hermione hid her face in her hands. She hated repeating it, even to herself. "I told him to mind his own
business and leave me alone," she sobbed. Yes, she was back to sobbing now, and she hated herself for
it.

Harry slid an arm around her shoulders. "Well..."

She jerked away from him. "I know, I know!" she interrupted, wiping her eyes. "It was horrid of me, and
I feel dreadful, and he looked so sad back there, but I couldn't say anything because I'm too ashamed
and...And..."

"Well," Harry began again, over her quiet crying, "I'd suggest you DO go talk to him. I think you really
hurt him, 'Mione."

She put her face in her hands again. "That's not all, Harry...I'm scared to death. What if they come
back and want to hurt him? They came after me, and I don't know why the let me live, but they did. So
what if it was a mistake and they come back again and try to get me, and they kill Ron in the process?
Not to mention his family, and it would all be my fault...I can't stay here, but I've nowhere else to go
to, Harry, my home's gone, my family--" her voice caught in her throat, but she continued hoarsely "--is
gone, and I don't know what I'm going to do..."

Harry sighed. "Everyone's scared, Hermione, it's not just you. You can't live your life always afraid,
you know. Ron doesn't seem too worried about Voldemort right now--just you. Forget Voldemort for just a
little while, and concentrate on Ron. Also, don't you have an Aunt? You could live with her, couldn't
you?"

"Yes, but..." She wiped her eyes and looked at him. "I don't know her very well, and I'm..." She sighed
again, her lungs seemingly shaking with the effort--she'd exhausted herself crying. "I'm too scared."

Harry nodded. "Well, keep in mind that not ALL relatives are like the Dursleys." He smiled wryly. "Just
mine, since I have such fabulous luck." He glanced at her, green eyes serious. "I would suggest," he
muttered, "that you go talk to Ron. Swallow your pride and do it. You can't just push everyone away,
'Mione. It doesn't work that way."

She nodded, sniffling. "You're right." She laughed a little through her tears. "Of course, when aren't
you?"

"Oh, I can think of a fair few times," he said, smiling softly. "Now, go talk to Ron. I've got to have
a quick chat with Snuff--er--Sirius."

Hermione nodded and stood up, still holding onto her quilt as though for dear life. She watched Harry go
inside and took a deep breath, steeling herself up for what she was about to do. Then, thinking of how
sad Ron had looked back in the living room, she nodded to herself and walked inside. Up the stairs, down
the hall...There was Ron's room. She knocked quietly and pushed the door open.

He was lying on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, breathing deeply. He was obviously
asleep..."No!" she told herself. "You're not going to back out of this one! Tell him you're sorry! After
saying all you did, it's a wonder he'll stay in the same house!"

She nodded and gently shook his shoulder. He groaned and rubbed his eyes for a moment, then he saw her
and crossed his arms again. "Yes?"

Oh, he was being cold. Ignoring the usual threat of tears, she bit her lip and sat down on the bed next
to him. "Ron, I'm so sorry..."

"Are you?" he asked tonelessly.

She bit her lip harder and started as she tasted blood. She brought her fingers to her mouth and brought
them back down with traces of red on their tips. "Oh..."

He sat up next to her, looking concerned. "Now why'd you go and bite your lip open?"

She shook her head, still just staring at her fingers. Suddenly, and without warning, her shoulders
started shaking and she was crying again. Now she was furious with herself. She hadn't even had a chance
to tell him she was sorry, and now she was bawling again like a small child with a skinned knee...Which
was why she was so surprised that he just took her in his arms and rocked her.

After a moment, she regained control of her aching lungs and took a deep, if ragged, breath. "Ron, I'm
so sorry I said that...I didn't m-mean it, but it just came out and I feel horrible and I want you to
forgive me so m-much but I know that you probably can't because I was so horrid a-and..." She trailed
off as a yawn interrupted her apology.

Ron laughed very quietly. "I don't believe it--you're still tired."

"I know," she moaned, halfway laughing.

"Well," he muttered, "I forgive you, so don't beat yourself up over it."

Hermione let out a deep breath. "Thank you..." she muttered. "I don't deserve you and Harry."

"Oh, now don't start on that, you," he muttered, pulling away and brushing her hair out of her face.
"You know perfectly well that Harry and I both love you and aren't about to abandon you. You do too
deserve us, if you consider that a compliment." He smiled lopsidedly and she completely melted.

She readjusted the quilt around her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered. "I..." her voice shook and
she took a deep breath. "I love you."

He grabbed her in a hug again and she sighed.

"I love you, too," he muttered.