A/N: Really short chapter this time, but I wanted to go ahead and post as I find feedback both inspiring and helpful.  Ron isn't speaking to me right now, so I thought I would just let you in on a bit of Hermione' thinking.

Thanks to all who reviewed since last post: BuckNC, krysalys73, Lily Michelle, Katrina Starr, Rubberduckie713, and the-love-of-ron.

A/N II: It's not mine, but that's okay as long as I can play with it anyway.

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            The blanket was gone.  She could feel the cold creeping through to her very core.  Her skin felt much like her soul.

            Carefully, she listened for the sounds of life.  It wouldn't do for her to be groping about for lost bedclothes if they were to come in to attend to her.  She wouldn't want them to think their presence had made her in any way alert.

            There was someone there.  Breathing, but not the breath of an idle watcher.  The inhalations were heavier, deeper.  The rate was slower.  She could feel it.

            Instantly, she started to freeze and fought the reflex with every ounce of her.  If she tensed, they would know there was someone there, someone inside.  That would lead only to more questions.  Constant vigilance, constant interrogation.  They would wear her down and they would draw her out.  They would prey upon her weakness were she foolish enough to show them any.  She remained steady and silent.  A rock.

            Slowly, she opened her her eyes just enough to peer through her lashes.  Subtlety.  Once, a long time ago, she had been as naive and ordinary as they.  She would have never noticed the gesture when she was one of them.  It wouldn't have been lost on her now.

            No one there.  Thanks to the angle her neck had achieved during sleep, she would have been able to make out anyone in the room, though they would have appeared thick and hazy.  She had no audience.

            Suddenly, she felt movement next to her.  She panicked slightly, wondering if they had seen, if they knew.  The shifting stopped, and she could feel the mattress sinking lower on the left side between herself and the wall.  She could feel warmth now.

            She had to count.  There was someone in the bed with her.  Could they not leave her be?  Was it not obvious that she desired nothing but peace?  She fought the urge to flinch as a limb was carelessly thrust across her stomach.

            They had her blanket.  She was cold and she wanted it so desperately, needed it so desperately.  It divided her world from reality and she felt naked and exposed without it.  She had used its comforting warmth to lull herself to sleep as Ron had sat persistently by her side the night before.  She knew she could not bear his words, so she had turned inside of herself.  The warmth had made her sleepy and the nerves had taxed her to her limit.  She had been able to escape.

            Ron.  She froze this time, hoping that the one sharing her bed would remain oblivious to her unintentional display of consciousness.  It was him with her.  She knew.  Breathe.  Breathe.  She wanted to scream for him to get out, to leave her be, to let go of his past, but she would not.

            The time was not right.  Not yet.

            He stirred again, and she practiced the mind control methods Severus had worked on with her.  She had to believe she was gone.  She had to so thoroughly convince herself that she would be able to convince them.  It was only fair.  It was the only way.

             She felt him sit up, tossing the cover away.  She was nothing.  She was no one.

            She could feel his eyes upon her, almost see his face register his actions in horror.  She couldn't care.  There was nothing let to care with.

            She felt him scramble to the foot of the bed, trying to slink out without brushing against her, trying not to rouse her.  She would not be awakened.  Not today.

            The blanket was falling over her again.  She felt him brush her forehead with his lips.  There were tears on his face.  She could feel them on her skin now after he had moved away.

            He was crying for her.

            He was crying for himself.

            The door squeaked and she heard the click of the latch as it settled into its frame.  Sigh now.  Breathe now.  Look now.

            Alone again.

            She touched the side of the bed where he had just departed from.  Still warm.

            She cursed herself for sentiment.

            Human still.

            Alive still.

            The residue from his tears mixed with her own.

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