Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter, cause I'm not Jk Rowling. And "I HOPE YOU DANCE" is By Lee Ann Womack, not me. It was Last Corrected by: , sorry if they mussed the lyrics.

Dedicated to my cousin, she's a year younger than me and has just been diagnosed with a muscular disease and may never dance again.

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Running for what it's worth.

Chapter Two

"I was there. I thought she was gonna die. Just like all the others, it was my fault!" Hermione stared straight at him and whacked him upside the head.

"You're a fool!" She stood up and stormed out of the room leaving yet another wizard to gape at her back.

"Harry. . . what are you doin' here?" Ron stared at him and gave a faint half smile. Harry quickly spun around to face his best friend.

"I wanted my broom. Hermione blew up in my face and split." Harry motioned toward the door with his head.

"You too, eh? What's gotten into her, it's like she can't even let us be sad about it." Harry just shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I don't get um eigther. Hey Ron, I don't exactly. . ."

"Feel like talking to her big brother. I get that. I didn't exactly want to be around you after Sirius." Harry's face fell even more. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Wanna run?"

"I don't want to remember, any of it. Second year, fourth year, or last year. Why do people always DIE!" Ron's eyes flew open.

"What happened second year?" Ron wasn't always the brightest chap so add that on to him being dead tired, and he was down right stupid.

"Your sister got posessed."

"Oh yeah, sorry my mind is kind of. . . dead."

"Can we please not talk about this subject?" Harry was looking desperate now. It was sort of disheartening to see two more Gryffindors on the verge of tears.

"No. Sorry, but I have to talk to someone. Hermione has gone mad, you just want to forget, Ginny is in a coma and is the one causing my depression, and, oh yeah, there's Neville but that somehow doesn't make me feel any better. So since you're here, I'm confiding in you."

"Ron, can you answer me one question?"

"Why not. It's been awhile since I've really talked to you and Hermione so this might get interesting, just to warn you."

"Why is it that the people I care about the most always are the ones to pay?"

"So you blame yourself for what happened to my sister too? I know, I should have been out there with you guys instead of writing love letters, it was stupid. I should have been there."

"I was there and still did nothing. Do you even know exactly what happened?"

"No," he stated sheepishly, "no one will tell me what went down that night."

"I couldn't say even if I wanted to. I just can't bring myself to form the words; I've tried. Everytime I think about it my eyes roll into the back of my head and I can't think. My mind is unbearibly silent and blank. Just like this stupid room." Harry's fist clenched tightly. His eyes shot bits of fire at the walls as he fumed in frustration; as if blaming the room for the eternal silence in Ginny's head.

"Well if you think it would help we could always steal Ginny and take her to the common room, that place is never quiet. Maybe she'll wake up just to tell us to shut the hell up." Harry smiled lightly.

"Maybe I was wrong. I thought I could just end it with Voldemort and everyone would be safe. But he had nothing to do with what happened."

"Everyone takes pain differently, I want to live life in her memory. You want to forget. Hermione thinks we should just get over it."

"I want revenge. But I'm to blame, how do you take revenge upon yourself?"

"If that's what you want, I think you're doing a great job. but instead of burning your broom, can we burn hers, it cost less."

"And Sirius didn't buy it." Ron nodded in agreement.

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Hermione stormed down the halls, making sure to trip any and all Slytherins in her path. Hermione wondered if it was rubbing a hole in her shoe for her to be scuffing her feet so hard on stone. 'Who cares? not me,' she thought.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks. 'Ginny didn't want this. Her last words were that we should live our lives the way we knew she would've. To be happy. She's not even dead and we've torn apart our world for her. If she could talk to me right now she would probably be yelling at my methods. If I'm ever gonna get them to let go they have to be around me, right? Duh.' And with that last apifany she trugged back down the corridor to the hospital wing.

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The two boys sat there and discused a few things and the cold edges of the room seemed to soften abit.

"When did we become so distant?"

"The moment each of became ubsessed with ourselves. . ." Ron trailed off as Hermoine pushed open the door by leaning on it in a completely relaxed manner.

"...and our own pain. I'm sorry for yelling at you guys. It's just that Ginny told me that she wanted us to lean on each other for comfort and not to destroy who we used to be. We were the people she loved the most. I don't want to destroy those people. Oh, and Ron, very eloquently stated." She gave him a small smirk. It was awkardly returned. She took up a place on the corner of Ron's bed and Harry joined her.

"Anyone want to run?" asked Harry at last.

"Oh, yeah," replied Ron, face beaming.

"Ron, I don't think you should. . . " He leaned foreward and cupped his hand over her mouth.

"Ginny wanted us to live our lives right? That includes you Mione." He removed his hand reveiling her giggling face.

"Alright." She extended her hand and helped him out of bed. Their gazes shifted to each other's hospital wing attire and they began to blush.

"Harry can you hold that thought for twelve or minutes?"

"No I can't" he said sarcastically. In truth nothing had changed between them, the wounds were still their, eating at their souls.