Meanwhile Hermione eyed Ron nervously. About half an hour later they had decided to pack up and head back to the tower. Hermione was still apologizing to Ron all the way back to Gryfinndor tower, and he had just about forgiven her. He understood most of it. He was annoyed she hadn't come to him for protection, but he realized Harry was an ideal choice, what with Voldemort's powers and all. Hermione had explained what had happened to Ron that afternoon and the last time as well. He got a little angry and they nearly got thrown out of the library when Hermione had told Ron about the first incidence. Madame Pince looked like she wanted to strangle them by the end of it, so they decided to finish up their discussion back in the common room. It would be quiet now, they hoped. The Fat Lady grinned when they walked up to her. Ron stared and gave her the password and she winked at Hermione as they climbed through. Hermione just shook her head. She had already figured out what everyone would think. She didn't care though. She had survived the Krum thing, and she would survive this too. Ron watched her carefully, she was frowning. She looked at him and tried to smile.
Saying goodbye was awkward. They looked at each other for a moment or two. They were exhausted. Ron was waiting for something, but Hermione was despondent. She was feeling guilty now, more than she needed to be. Eventually Ron pulled Hermione close, and held her tight for a long moment. She put her arms around him and was comforted slightly. She felt so heavy and disconnected. On more normal days, she would sometimes slip into such a mood. When Ron first saw her, he wanted to send her to Madame Pomfrey. Harry seemed to understand, and she was sure Ron never thought of such a thing when the same thing happened to Harry. She let go of him, and tried to smile again. She turned around and headed up the stairs. She looked at Ron one last time, and walked into her dormitory.
Ron sighed. He'd screwed up. She was in one of those moods again. He was always so helpless when she was like this, he never knew what to say. She usually talked herself to silence. Maybe she was waiting for something from him, but he never knew what to say. He was always grasping for something to say, but it was never the right thing. He climbed up the stairs, feeling an impending sense of doom. Harry was already asleep when he reached his bed, and he took his shoes off and collapsed into bed, still dressed.