A/N: Okay, here it is... (drum roll please) the long overdue Chapter 8. I don't know if this chapter would have been written at all if it hadn't been for the gentle encouragement *coughKickedMyButtcough* of my friend Audrey. If in case you already forgot what this story was about, please take the time to reread Chapters One to Seven. Oh, and one more thing... since this has become an AU fic as of 21 June 2003, please leave a review after you've finished reading to let me know if I should go on developing this story. Thanks! Hope you enjoy this little chappie!
Hermione pulled out her N.E.W.T. study guide in Arithmancy and tried to read it, but when she realized she had been staring at the same page for the last five minutes without having read a single word, she snapped the book shut. It was no use denying the fact that Ron was all she could think about. How did things between them ever become this complicated? Surely they were addressing this -- this -- unbearable situation, the wrong way. Even now, she couldn't quite admit to herself exactly what he meant to her. It wasn't as if she was a coward -- after all, she was in Gryffindor -- it's just that if she even thought about it, she knew that the precarious balance they'd both worked so hard to maintain would come crashing down. But then again, hadn't it almost crashed down so many times before? In fifth year alone, they had come so close to losing each other.
Before she knew it, her thoughts had flown back to the events of the first Hogsmeade weekend in fifth year. It was probably the stupidest thing she ever did: she just stood there while two boys battled it out for her. They didn't get into a fist fight, but it didn't change the fact that she deliberately set one boy against the other. She was surprised that they still talked to her afterwards. She had fully expected that neither of them would like her very much after what had happened.
The afternoon was turning to dusk as Viktor carried her packages all the way from Hogsmeade and into the castle, until they came to the corridor where they separated to go into their respective dormitories. Ron took the packages from Viktor, nodded to him and waited for her to thank Viktor and say good-bye to him. Then she and Ron proceeded to Gryffindor tower in silence. He wouldn't look at her, and she couldn't look at him because he would see the tears that she was trying so hard to hide. When they came to the prefects' quarters at last, he set her packages down on the floor of her room and left her without a word.
That wasn't her idea at all. Her idea was: Ron would confront her again, yell all sorts of nonsense at her for a few moments until he saw the tears in her eyes, then he would grab her into a desperate hug and kiss her until she forgot her own name. She let her imagination carry her off into Ron's arms until she was interrupted by--
"Miss, is you awake? I is bringing your dinner."
She nearly jumped out of bed in surprise. She turned to where the voice was coming from, and saw a house-elf bearing a tray of food. "But I -- I didn't ask for dinner."
"No, Miss. Sir is telling me to bring your dinner."
"Who... who is 'Sir'?"
"Sir with the red hair and a badge, Miss."
She gasped. Ron had asked the house-elf to bring her dinner. Why did he do that? He never did that before. When they fought during their third year, he didn't care whether she was alive or dead. She, on the other hand, cried her eyes out at the thought of Ron almost being stabbed dead by Sirius Black, whom they all thought was a criminal back then. Why did he care now? Does this mean he--
"Miss? Your dinner is getting cold."
"Thank you, but I'm not hungry."
"I is leaving the tray here, Miss, in case you is hungry later. I is bringing Miss her breakfast tomorrow."
"It's all right. You don't have to do that."
"Please, Miss, Sir is telling me to bring Miss her food until Miss is going down to the Great Hall again. And Sir is telling me not to listen if Miss is saying she is not hungry."
"But I -- I --" The house-elf had vanished.
She tried to stop thinking about Ron, she really did. She opened her Transfiguration textbook and tried to follow her revising schedule for the O.W.L.s, but there was a voice inside her head that kept on insisting Ron cared for her until she almost believed it. She gave up, and for lack of anything else to do, she glanced at the food tray the house-elf had brought her. The thought that Ron had made sure she wouldn't go hungry even though he was furious with her filled her with warmth. Then she felt hunger. She ate as though that was the first meal she had had in weeks.
The next day, however, the thought of facing Ron again in the Great Hall filled her with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She had wanted to go downstairs that morning, but her knees wouldn't stop shaking, and butterflies fluttered inside her. She decided to wait until lunch, but then the butterflies in her stomach had turned into Cornish pixies, and they bounced inside her so riotously that she knew she would make a fool of herself if she even tried to go downstairs. She wanted to see him, but she was so terrified of what might happen if she did. What if he hated her? What if he thought of her as just a friend? What if he really -- cared for her?
Her entire body was protesting her decision to go downstairs for dinner. She could hardly get her feet to move. It was as if she'd forgot how to walk. She stopped at the library first, mainly to catch her breath, and to leave a list of the books she needed to borrow with Madam Pince. Then she squared her shoulders and willed herself to reach the Great Hall step by trembling step. She peered inside the Hall before going in. Harry was sitting beside Ginny, and Ron sat on her other side, his plate piled high as usual. She felt a surge of anger pass through her body. He couldn't care for her that much if he could still stuff food into his mouth, while she could hardly stand.
She walked into the Hall with her head held high. She stopped between Harry and Ginny and nudged Harry aside so she could sit between them. She helped herself to some steak and kidney pie, but all she could really do was push the food around her plate. She glanced at Ron out of the corner of her eye, as she had to pretend she didn't want to look at him. He had stopped eating and was looking at her as though she had ruined his dinner, his weekend, and his entire life, for that matter -- at least, that was how she interpreted the look in his eyes. She couldn't stand it anymore, so she left the table and hurried away. As she was leaving the Hall, she could hear Ginny stopping Ron from following her. She made a mental note to thank Ginny later for helping her escape from him. As soon as she passed through the doors of the Great Hall, she broke into a run.
She went as fast as her feet could carry her back to the library. Madam Pince had been waiting for her to take the books she asked to borrow. She gathered the books and arranged them carefully so she could carry them off in one trip back to her quarters. She couldn't risk running into Ron tonight. It was a mistake for her to even try to make up with him. The best thing she could do now was to answer that stupid letter from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that came just after she woke up that morning. On any other day, she could have calmly taken what it contained, but today, it was just too much to bear. She had to try and save S.P.E.W. from being disbanded, of course, but she didn't even know if her heart could take another beating if she couldn't. Why did this trouble have to come today, of all days? She carefully blinked her tears back, balanced the books in her arms and started walking towards the door. She had to do something, anything, to get her mind off Ron. She had to -- CRASH! She ran into someone on her way out of the library, someone who spoke in a very familiar voice, and sported a very familiar crop of red hair as he stooped to pick up her books. Uh-oh. It was Ron.
She started to apologize, but he cut her off and said he was the one who should be sorry. Then he said something about her having the right to like whoever she wanted. Her heart dropped to the floor. He didn't care for her. But, no matter how bitterly disappointed she was, she decided she wouldn't cry in front of him. She shouldn't cry, she shouldn't let him see how much it hurt her to know he could never care for her the way she wanted him to.
She wanted nothing more than to be able to walk away from him, but he kept a firm hold on the books she borrowed and asked about them. For some reason, she started telling him about how S.P.E.W. would be disbanded if she didn't -- what? She didn't even know what to do. Even though she knew Ron wouldn't see her as more than a friend, she still couldn't help confiding her fears to him, as though he had the power to make everything all right. But then he gave her the shock of her life when he showed her the list of students he had recruited to join S.P.E.W. It was like an answer to a prayer. He had saved S.P.E.W. without even knowing it, and she didn't even have to ask him. He DID make everything all right. It was like third year all over again, with him taking responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal and not giving up when she had despaired. She threw her arms around him and cried on his chest in exactly the same way she did then. The difference between then and now was, he hugged her back and comforted her. She laughed through her sobs -- Ron was holding her in his arms again.
Before she could stop herself, she tightened her hold on him, even stepping on a book so she could -- do what? Kiss him? She wanted to. She had to. She couldn't fight it anymore. She had to kiss him even though he didn't care for her more than as a friend. She had to take the risk. He was worth it, even if she made a fool of herself. No one could stop her, she couldn't let anyone stop her from kissing him, absolutely no one--
"Miss Granger! You -- you're standing on -- A BOOK?!"
Well, no one, except Madam Pince, that is. The librarian must have heard the crash of falling books while she was shelving moldy volumes of the Encyclopedia of Potions in the back shelves. For the second time in her life, she felt terribly ashamed. She was guilty of the highest sacrilege a student could ever do to a book: using it as a prop to get a good snog.
That night, she kept waking up from dreams of Ron taking her in his arms and kissing her until her knees collapsed, that she finally gave up trying to sleep. But then, she couldn't do anything else either, as she kept thinking of him -- how comfortable his arms felt, how solid and warm his body was against hers, and how soft his lips would probably feel. She didn't even need to close her eyes anymore -- she started imagining that he would grab her as she walked past him in between classes, drag her into an empty classroom, and crush his lips against hers until she fainted in his arms. The cycle continued for several days, until she fell into a dreamless sleep out of pure exhaustion.
She was up long before dawn that Saturday. It was the first Quidditch game of the year, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. It would be Ron's first game. Ever since their near-kiss in the library, she had felt too shy to say more than a few words to him, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he stayed near her as much as he could, silently carried her books for her, and even walked her to her Arithmancy class before dashing off to the North Tower for his Divination class. In return, she smiled timidly at him, piled food on his plate at mealtimes, and dreamt about him at night. That morning, she had wanted to wait up for him in the common room, but Harry had practically dragged her downstairs in his nervousness. She felt bad for forgetting that this was to be his first game as co-captain of the team.
She started to worry about Ron when the team stood up from the Gryffindor table for the pre-game toast. Where was he? Was he sick or something? She heaved a sigh of relief when she heard footsteps running into the Great Hall. She didn't even have to look up to know it was him. It was only mildly shocking to her to realize that she could tell it was Ron just by the sound of his footsteps. When he borrowed her teacup and drank from it, she saw his lips touch the cup at the same spot hers had touched just moments ago. It was as if they had kissed. The thought was enough to make her break out into her brightest smile. That was the smile he saw when he turned to look at her as the team left for the Quidditch field. He was too far away for her to throw her arms around him, so she mouthed "good luck!" instead. He smiled back and walked away. She couldn't stop calling herself a coward all the way to the Quidditch field. She really should have made an effort to be as close to him as she dared, just as he had done. After all, they had just made up.
When the game started, she watched in disbelief as the Gryffindor team fell apart. No one but Ron seemed to try and play seriously. The Hufflepuffs were repeatedly trying to score, and kept on bombarding him with Bludgers. At the same time, Ginny, who had been sitting beside her, suddenly started to giggle hysterically and to jump up and down as though attempting to fly, only to land with a plop back on her seat. What was going on? When Ron signaled to Madam Hooch for a time-out, the thought occurred to her that the Gryffindor team, with the exception of Ron, had probably taken a nasty potion without knowing it. But what potion? She turned to look at Ginny. She was now sitting on Seamus Finnigan's lap and was running her fingers through his hair, batting her eyelashes coquettishly, while Seamus was frozen to his seat and looked slightly horrified, slightly amused, and slightly, er, excited, at the same time. She grabbed hold of Ginny's wrist, bringing the giggling girl with her as she ran down the stands to talk to Ron. The answer had just come to her: the Gryffindor team had been dosed with Bewildering Draught.
It was no use trying to persuade Ron to forfeit the game to Hufflepuff. There was a glint in his eyes that told her his mind was set on playing till the end, knowing that the best he could do was lose honorably. She wanted so badly for him to win. But how could he, when he was hurt, and his teammates were out of their right minds? When he told her to go back to the stands to watch, she felt he was telling her something else: to believe in him. She touched his cheek in an awkward attempt to let him know he had her wholehearted support. She and Ginny had just reclaimed their seats when Madam Hooch blew her whistle to resume the game. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as she watched him take his position in front of the hoops.
She cringed as Ron blocked every attempt Hufflepuff made to score against him. It was almost unbearable to watch him play, as the Bludgers kept on hitting him, while he kept on doggedly guarding the goals. She prayed for the game to end.
"HARRY! THE SNITCH! CATCH THE SNITCH!" Ron yelled.
And then, just like that, Harry reached up and caught the Snitch. Viktor, who was chasing the Snitch at his top speed, tried to veer away from Harry, but it was too late. She screamed when Viktor and Harry collided against each other with a crunch that told her their noses would probably be broken. She saw Ron hurtling towards them, grabbing hold of their robes and desperately trying to keep both of them from falling to the ground. Both Harry and Viktor were struggling to keep control of their brooms, and somewhere between those efforts, Viktor's elbow hit Ron's temple, reopening his wound.
Every Gryffindor around her was cheering wildly and applauding. Gryffindor won the first Quidditch game of the year against Hufflepuff, despite the fact that Viktor was Seeker and Captain, and despite the Bewildering Draught that unknown culprits had slipped into the pumpkin juice the team had drunk as a pre-game toast. Ron had been single-handedly responsible for today's victory. He hadn't given up, he never stopped believing in himself and in his teammates. She let herself drift with the crowd onto the Quidditch field, but as soon as she felt the grass beneath her feet, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her towards Ron.
'This is it,' she thought. 'I'll fight my way to him, throw my arms around him and not let him go until he kisses me. That should do it. That should finish off this stupid bet. That should be enough to... make him admit what he really feels for me.' She only felt the slightest shock at her own thoughts, but the sight of Ron standing in the middle of the field -- a bloody, bruised and battered hero, solemnly shaking hands with a likewise bruised Viktor -- convinced her that she was brave enough to do it.
Their eyes met and locked over the uproar of the crowd. Well, at least his one good eye locked onto both of hers. His injury stood out starkly against the pallor of his face, which made her want to comfort him all the more. But before she could take another step forward, Angelina dug her hands into Ron's shoulders, spun him around so that he faced her, then reached up and kissed him full on the mouth. His eyes widened in shock, and his face started turning fuschia. Angelina let go, only to be replaced by Katie. His eyes weren't as wide as before, but he was blushing down to his neck now, and he was still unable to move. Katie stepped away, and Alicia stepped up and pressed her mouth to his. His eyes still had traces of surprise in them, but he was starting to turn pale now. Each kiss he received felt like a dagger thrust to Hermione's heart.
Then the three Chasers surrounded Ron and wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug, which made him groan aloud. He was in pain. She wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him, but realized she didn't have any right to do so. She wasn't his... girlfriend, now was she? What right did she have to push Angelina, Katie and Alicia aside so she could hold him? She watched as Fred and George leapt forward and pried the three girls off Ron, teasing them all the while about molesting their baby brother, and threatening all sorts of retribution. The three girls let him go, laughed at the twins and started cheering. Fred and George started teasing him.
"You know, we should make him Captain. That ought to make even the first-years grab him and kiss him," Fred joked.
"Yeah, we really should. His brain's too dense to be affected by any hex or trick potion," George added.
"I agwee. I wote for Won as team Captain. Anyelina? Atie? Alicia?" Harry's voice sounded as though his nose had been stuffed with cotton, yet no one laughed, as his facial expression was equally serious and fierce. The fact that a heavy nosebleed was staining the front of his Quidditch robes added a spine-tingling effect to his words.
"Harry! W-what are you--" Ron started to splutter, but Harry turned to him and gave him a look that meant he wouldn't listen to any objections. "Ladies?" Harry turned to the three Chasers, this time with a look that said he wouldn't tolerate any opposition.
"Right."
"Count me in."
"Captain Ron it is."
"Fwed? Yeorge?"
The twins turned to Ron. "Why, Captain, that's a lovely shade of green you're wearing! Clashes horribly with your hair, but still, just lovely... may I borrow it for Halloween?"
"Oh, Captain, surely you're not going to make us practice at the crack of dawn, now would you?"
"The way he sleeps, I'm thinking more like the crack of noon would still be too early."
"Yeah, but he's got a head for the game, doesn't he? A very thick head, I should say."
"But I'm sure he'll make a good Captain. Won't he, George?" Fred's voice was suddenly serious.
"Absolutely." George answered in an equally serious voice.
By that time, Ron's face was an alarming shade of pale, made even paler by the blood trickling down his temple. He was swaying slightly -- he could faint at any moment. She ran towards him, then stopped, unsure of what to do next. When he saw her standing nearby, he reached out and pulled her into a tight, fierce hug. She wanted to forget everything else and just hug him back, but something inside her stopped her. The way he was holding her would have made her melt into him had she not been consumed by jealousy. He was trying to tell her something, he was pleading with her, but she couldn't understand a word he said. She congratulated him and started to move away from him, so he had reluctantly released her and had turned to hug Ginny instead. Then several Gryffindor boys caught hold of him and assisted him to the hospital wing.
She wanted to follow Ron to the infirmary, but her feet stopped walking, and she remained standing at the edge of the Quidditch field, almost at the spot where she and Ron had hugged on the day of the tryouts. Her eyes were starting to blur with tears.
George came up to her and kept her company on the Quidditch field. She rounded on him, partly out of anger, partly out of desperation. "I don't want to talk about this, George."
"I know. I just -- I'm sorry, I didn't know they'd do that. Probably some aftereffect of that potion."
"It doesn't matter. If you don't mind, I'd like to call off the bet. I'll do anything to make it up to you and Fred, but I can't --"
"I understand. But please don't take it out on Ron. He didn't expect it, you must have seen that."
"I -- I know, but --"
"It hurts just the same, doesn't it?" She didn't notice Fred had come up to them, and had spoken those last words in a soft, sympathetic voice. She nodded.
George patted her arm. "All right, then. Bet's off for you --"
"But NOT for Ronniekins. After all, fair is fair. Right, George?" Fred clapped George's shoulder.
"Riiight... we should give him a hard time, we really should. After all, he locked lips with Katie. Ewww! I kiss that woman everyday, for goodness' sake!"
"How do you think I feel? Angelina was the first one who kissed him! Yuck!"
She would have laughed at the twins, had she not felt as though she would explode with grief. She never told anyone that she had secretly rejoiced at the prospect of kissing Ron in front of the whole school for losing the bet, as it would have been one way of knowing if he had any feelings for her. But everything had been ruined, and she had felt a pain she had never known before. And yet, she couldn't leave him to the tender mercies of the twins.
"No, please... don't make things difficult for him. He's your Captain now, and he deserves some respect. He needs to feel that you'll take him seriously. You'll do that for him, won't you?" She tried to hide the pain in her eyes, but the twins must have seen it, and for once, they didn't tease her about Ron. Instead, they gave her a genuine Weasley promise (which consisted of calling upon various departed ancestors to witness the compact they were entering into, together with a solemn plea to the heavens to send down fire and pestilence on their heads if they neglected to fulfill their word) not to collect on the wager from her or their baby brother as long as they both (she and Ron, or them, she never really knew) shall live.
The twins wanted her to go with them to visit Ron in the hospital wing, but she couldn't bear to see Angelina, Katie and Alicia hanging around him, so she told them she would drop by later. She went to the library and tried to study, but all she could think about was how splendidly Ron fought on the field, how he never gave up, and how he... held her in his arms. The tears she tried to hold back all day came gushing out. It was so unfair. She had been wanting to kiss Ron for months, and she had been beaten to it by three girls who weren't even in their right minds at the time. She was jealous of them; she couldn't help it and she couldn't stop it. What made her feel even more terrible was the fact that they didn't even care about how soft and warm his lips would feel, or if he would close his eyes when he kissed a girl he liked. She would have cared. She would have wanted to know how it felt like to have Ron kiss her. But now, she never would. Why would he want to kiss her, when three older, prettier, more popular girls were so willing to do it? She continued to sob brokenly until --
"Hermy-own-ninny?"
She looked up. Viktor still had traces of bruises along his face from where he collided full force with Harry during the game, and he was still a bit pale, but was apparently well enough to leave the hospital wing.
She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand before talking at breakneck speed. "Oh, hello, Viktor. I'm glad you're better now. Please, sit down. Shouldn't you be resting in your quarters? That was quite a collision you had with Harry. We could practically hear your noses break." She could have gone on and on if Viktor hadn't reached out and touched her hand. She fell silent.
"He is still in the hospital ving. He vas asking for you before he fell asleep," he said in a quiet voice.
"W-who?" she asked -- stupidly, it seemed, because Viktor gave her a rueful smile.
"He saved me from falling to the ground. I must haff hit his vound ven I tried to keep my seat on my broom."
"Oh." There was really nothing she could say. She knew it for a fact: Viktor would have been seriously hurt if it wasn't for Ron.
"He could haff ignored me. Potter vas falling, too. He could haff tried to save his friend instead of trying to save us both. Vy did he do that? If I vas the one in his place, I vould haff saved my friend first."
'That's what makes him so different from you,' she thought. 'He'd care enough to save anyone who's in trouble, even someone he was... jealous of.' Yes, it was just the kind of thing Ron would do. It was his nature to be noble, brave and generous whenever it mattered, and he didn't even realize it. And, to top it all off, he just paid her back three times over for making him jealous of Viktor for that Hogsmeade weekend fiasco, without even intending to do it.
Viktor seemed to be expecting an answer from her. "Well, that's just how Ron is. I can't explain why, but... that's just him. You know, he's really -- I mean, once you get to know him -- well, he's... he's..." She waved her hands around, struggling for words to explain to Viktor what Ron was.
"I think I understand, Hermy-own-ninny. He's the reason vy I'll never be..." Viktor looked away.
"Why you'll never be what?" she asked, confused. Viktor stood up.
"Goodnight, Hermy-own-ninny." With that, he left the library.
She watched him leave, all the while feeling as though a thick fog had wrapped around her brain. Was Viktor trying to say... she'll never love him because of Ron? But he couldn't have meant that, could he? Of course not. It was the fog in her brain that was playing tricks on her. But then again, he had seen her crying over... over Ron. Viktor must have seen everything that happened between her and Ron at the Quidditch field. And, he had made a point of telling her Ron was asking for her. He probably would have asked her why she was crying in the library instead of staying with Ron in the infirmary, if he hadn't put it all together and figured out what it all meant. She sat there, partly queasy, partly numb, and completely lost in her thoughts.
The next thing she remembered was Madam Pince throwing everyone out of the library, as it was closing time. She was on her way back to Gryffindor tower when she came to a decision. She turned around and walked towards the hospital wing. If Ron was there, he would be asleep by now.
She stopped by a girl's bathroom to wash her face. She looked into the mirror and scowled. No amount of cold water could hide the fact that she had been crying. Still, she washed her face, fixed her school tie and tried to smooth out her hair. She squared her shoulders as she came out of the bathroom, made sure her Prefect's badge was firmly pinned to the front of her robes, and walked as though it was her business to go where she was going.
She reached the hospital wing at last. The beds were empty and only one lamp was casting a light into the room. She walked as quietly as she could towards the light, torn between dreading the possibility of meeting Madam Pomfrey, and desperately wishing to find anyone whom she could ask about Ron. She saw a house-elf sorting and placing vials of potions into a cabinet, a house-elf wearing a dirty blouse and skirt. Could it be...
"Winky? Is that you?" she whispered.
"Yes, miss," Winky answered in a low squeak.
"Are you working in the hospital wing now?"
"Yes, miss. Winky is feeling better here, where Winky is taking care of people. Is you visiting somebody here, miss?"
"Yes, I came to see Ron."
Winky led her to Ron's bed, which was partly shielded from view by a screen. "He is feeling better now. But he is not liking his medicine. He is sticking out his tongue when Madam Pomfrey was giving him a Receding potion for his eye. He is very naughty, winking at Winky and asking for strawberry tarts and treacle fudge. He -- he is reminding Winky of -- of -- M-master Barty," the elf finished with a sob. Winky moved towards Ron's bed, reached out and stroked his hair. "His hair is soft like Master Barty -- he is sleeping peacefully like Master Barty when Master Barty was a boy --"
A thought occurred to Hermione. "Winky, I know it won't take the place of Mister Crouch's family, but... how would you like to live with Ron's family? They're very kind, you know. They asked me to stay with them last summer. They have the most charming house -- it's called the Burrow. There's a pond, and chickens, and oh, a ghoul in the attic. There's also a huge garden, with lots of gnomes that Ron and his brothers throw over the fence. He has five brothers, and I think they're all naughty like him, well, except Percy. Oh, and a sister, her name's Ginny. She's very friendly, and I'm sure she'd want you to live there. And Mrs. Weasley -- that's Ron's mother -- loves to cook and knit, and I'm sure she would love to have you come and stay with her, if you want. And Mr. Weasley, that's Ron's father, you remember him, don't you? He was there at the Quidditch World Cup, and he tried to tell the other wizards that you didn't -- do anything wrong. I can ask Professor Dumbledore to let you visit the Burrow -- that is, if you want to."
Winky dried her tears using the hem of her dirty blouse. "Miss, please -- do not speak such words. Winky must not be hearing them. Miss is reminding Winky of something that Winky will never have again."
Hermione knelt in front of Winky and looked into her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to live with just one family, if that's what you really want. Would you like me to speak to Professor Dumbledore about it? I don't think he would mind if you felt like going somewhere else."
"Indeed, Miss, Winky is wanting to live with a family. But -- but -- Winky has work to do here. Winky serves the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry now. Winky will be given clothes again if the Headmaster finds out what Winky is feeling. Winky cannot bear to be dismissed again." She was wringing her hands as she spoke, as though trying to fight the impulse to hit her head against the wall.
"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't be dismissing you if you wanted to live elsewhere. He would want you to be happy." Hermione hoped Winky would see that she meant every word she said.
The elf's eyes grew even wider, looking partly terrified, yet hopeful. "W-winky -- Winky has to go now, Miss. W-- I has work to do."
"Winky..." The elf had vanished even before Hermione could blink.
She sighed as she stood up. She turned towards the bed, and realized that she was alone with Ron. She reached out and gently stroked Ron's hair, just as Winky had done. Winky was right -- Ron's hair was so soft, and he slept as peacefully as a toddler. The swelling around his eye had gone down, but his temple was still purplish black and his face was still pale. She had never seen him look more handsome.
Acting on impulse, she swept the hair off his forehead. She was leaning forward to kiss him when he stirred. She drew her hand back as though she had been scalded. It was late. She should be going back to Gryffindor tower. She had already turned away when--
"Don't go," he whispered. His voice was still foggy with sleep, but it was warm and oddly comforting to hear.
She swallowed hard before turning back to face him. "You were asleep when I came in, and I didn't want to disturb you."
"I can't see you very well. Come closer," he said.
She took one step forward, but thought better of it and pulled back. "Ron, it's late. I really should be going --"
His answer nearly made her faint. "You've been crying."
Denial wasn't really an option, as she knew he had already seen how puffy her eyes were. So she tried to keep her voice even as she answered him. "Yes, well, it's not everyday I get to see my two best friends in the whole world get all bloodied up over Quidditch."
A ghost of a lopsided grin shone through his injuries. "Well... I did get to be a hero for a day, didn't I?" That was when she knew for certain that Ron was going to be fine. As long as he could still crack a joke, there was nothing really wrong with him.
She tried to sound sarcastic, but she was sure he could hear the hint of laughter and relief in her voice. "Of course, what was I thinking? You'll gladly break all the bones in your body to be one. I'm sure there'll be a Ron Weasley fan club in Hogwarts by tomorrow."
He chuckled, then grimaced, clutching his side where he had been hit by a Bludger earlier. "I think you've got the wrong patient. Harry's the one with the fan club. You just missed him -- Pomfrey released him before she gave me some nasty stuff that put me out like a light."
"Hmmph. Harry wasn't the one who got kissed out in the Quidditch field today, now was he?" She nearly clapped her hand to her mouth. Why did she say that? Just when things were starting to go back to normal between them...
"Oh. Were you... jealous?" The way he looked and the sound of his voice was exactly like Winky's expression just a moment ago: partly terrified, yet hopeful.
She tried to keep her voice as light and teasing as she could possibly manage, that is, for someone who had spent the past two hours or so crying her eyes out. "You wish."
A spasm seemed to have shot through him. Then he laughed a second time, making him clutch his side again. "Good Lord, woman, are you trying to kill me?" he gasped. "What is it with you making me laugh, when I feel like Hagrid's danced a jig over my ribs? Haven't I suffered enough for one day?" He was wailing dramatically, but somehow she saw that his eyes were burning.
She felt a sudden impulse to let him know everything was right between them again. She went as close to his bed as she dared, and gently stroked his hair. "Go back to sleep, then. I'll come back and visit you tomorrow."
He looked at her for a moment with an odd expression on his face. Then he relaxed and closed his eyes. "Mmm, that feels good. Will you stay on for a bit?"
"I'll stay till you fall asleep," she assured him. She drew the blankets up to his chest with her free hand.
He reached for her hand and held it to his chest. "Thanks." He remained silent for a few moments. She thought he had fallen asleep, so she stopped stroking his hair. But then he started to mumble, "you do know I'm sorry, don't you? For calling you a nightmare back in first year. I didn't know you'd be..." His voice trailed off. She noticed that his grip on her hand was starting to loosen.
She moved her hand the tiniest bit, but he took firm hold of it and continued talking. "...the best friend I could ever have. You're the best, the champion of all best friends... I... I l--"
She leaned closer to him. His breathing was deep and slow. She waited for him to speak again, to finish what he was trying to say. She needed to hear it. The silence continued to roar around her. She waited. And waited. But he was asleep.
She stroked his hair a few more times and slowly pulled her hand away from his. He slept on. She was aware of a strange burning sensation inside her. It was a hunger left unfed for too long. What was Ron trying to tell her? Why couldn't he have picked a better time to tell her what he wanted to tell her? Did he-- did he mean to tell her he--
She heard footsteps in the vicinity of Madam Pomfrey's office. She slipped away before the matron caught her out of bounds. Halfway back to Gryffindor tower, the thought hit her: Ron cared for her. He just had to. But even flat on his back, groggy with the potions he had taken, he still hadn't let his guard down long enough to say it. Knowing him as she did, there was a possibility that he might never say it. She stumbled along the corridors until she reached her quarters again, torn between weeping over Ron (again) and hitting his head with a Beater's club.