Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or any of the characters presented in this fan fiction. J.K. Rowling has the proud title of author, and I wouldn't dare try to take that away from her.

Author's Note: I do not believe in witchcraft, so please if you feel like you're going to get the urge to go join Wicca after reading my story, just don't. If you feel that reading a Harry Potter fan fiction will sway you to take part in witchcraft, than please pass up on my story. I believe in God, and the promises he offers, not the lies offered in spells and incantations. I know this is basic and stupid, but there are those out there who would disagree with me. So please, don't become a witch after reading this. Thanks. 

Setting Background: This fan fiction takes place in the 5th book, while Hermione and Ron are in the school infirmary and after fighting death eaters at the Ministry of Magic. If you haven't read the 5th book you are not likely to understand the fic.

CHAPTER 1:

Hermione's eyes felt as stiff and crisp as the white linen hospital sheets underneath her. She forced her dried eyes open and scanned the blank, white stone walls. A window from the opposite side of the room let some spring sunshine cast shadows against what she found was a string of cards on the wall, addressed to her. Hermione smiled and breathed in the strong smell of lemon, antiseptic and another scent she couldn't quite trace. She gingerly tilted her head towards the smell and saw a bright bouquet of yellow and white daisies beside her on her night stand, her favorite flowers. Surrounding them were a variety of neon colored Burty Bots jelly beans, chocolate candies and a note card beside the pretty glass vase containing her flowers. Hermione squinted at the card, trying to make out its messy scrawl, and, instead, caught a glimpse of the person in another bed beside her.

Her eyes were still blurry but it was easy to make out a vivid patch of red hair poking out from beneath the covers and what appeared to be brown clusters of freckles on the back of his neck. His head was turned away from Hermione and her vision was still too shaky to tell if his body was lifting and falling in his sleep. Hermione fought the idea of losing him in her mind and gave out a small gasp of breath.

"Ron." she managed to let out, with much less intensity than was building up inside of her. She wondered how long it had been since she last spoke. "Ron!" Hermione croaked again, picking up volume. Hermione drew in a long breath, ready to yell for Nurse Pomfrey when she felt something squeeze her hand on the opposite side of the bed.

The hand was callused and cold, nearly foreign to her. She racked her brain and with a doubtful voice asked: "Harry?"

The hand squeezed gently again and she heard his familiar voice pick up. "He's fine; let him sleep. He's been worried about you."

She forced herself to nod. Her neck felt like a swing door on creaky hinges; her head felt too heavy. Before glancing over at him she caught a glimpse of the note card again. "Thank you Harry."

"I'm sorry; they've gotten a little wilted. You've been asleep for a long time."

She turned her head, finally, and scanned over him. Harry was drooping in his seat; his hair was messier than usual, and he somehow seemed even more tired than her. But he didn't seem to be wincing from any sort of pain. His scar didn't look inflamed and his eyes were still his own. Something Hermione had always admired about Harry were his eyes, his mother's eyes, everyone said.

Harry looked away from her, towards the other side of the room. It always made him nervous when people stared at him, especially when they looked at his scar. It bothered Hermione that he didn't feel comfortable with her in this way yet, but she let it go. "I'm sorry Harry. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I've had dreams too, you know?"

Harry looked up, shuddering this time. A surge of worry came through her.

"It's okay." He said plainly. He paused for a moment; guilt and concern were etched across his face. "I know it's my fault." He let out with effort and paused again. "When I saw you fall…I thought that you were dead." An extra emphasis trailed to the last word in his sentence and hung in the air above their heads for a while. Harry cast his eyes away from it, towards the floor, but Hermione held her gaze at Harry.

"I know what I get myself into, so does Ron and everyone else. I'm just glad to know that everyone is alright. I'm thrilled to see you sitting here." She paused for a moment, and then with much the same intensity that Harry held in his voice said, "You're more important than you think Harry."

Harry's face screwed up in anger and his fist collided with the metal tray table resting near her bed. The tray fell down with a clang and a disturbed Umbridge from across the room yipped in her sleep about staying quiet in the hallways. Hermione almost giggled, thinking about what must have happened to the "old bat." She turned to smile at Harry and immediately stopped herself.

"Not everyone knew what they were getting into. Sirius…" Harry stopped himself. Umbridge had quieted down and there was a deafening silence in the hospital corridor. Harry's voice came out in a rush, "I'm sick of hearing how important that I am! Everyone seems happy that I'm alive instead of Sirius."

There was no preparing Hermione for what he had just said. No one else had entered her mind once she had seen that Harry and Ron were alright; she suddenly felt very selfish. Hermione tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Sirius was dead. One word kept playing through her head. How? But looking at Harry's face, she knew that she couldn't ask.

A voice from her opposite side rose groggily from Ron's bed. "The Order came to help us last week." Ron's voice trailed of into a yawn and ended leaving the room quiet again.

"Oh" Was all that Hermione could think to say. She wanted desperately to talk to Ron and find out what happened, to see him and make sure that he was alright.

"I think that that's enough Mate." Ron's voice was steadier now.

Harry stood up. It was obvious that he felt the same. His face had softened now. The anger had left his features and he looked even more tired than before. Harry pushed his chair back to its place against the wall and started to leave the room, padding quickly across the floor, with Hermione and Ron watching him leave. He disappeared out the doorway.

Hermione turned again, slowly, gingerly. Her sides and chest still ached from the blow she had taken. Her legs resisted movement after lying in bed for a week. With a heave and a painful intake of breath she was able to pull herself on her side towards Ron. Hermione wiped the pain from her face and managed a smile for Ron, who was patiently staring back at her. For a moment it was quiet, and they sat there staring at each other intently, each trying to will the other to speak first.

"So," said Hermione, finally relenting. "I've been in here, asleep for a week?"

Ron nodded and then bursted into a smile. "Do you like the jelly beans? I got them for you, Harry got the flowers and Mum sent over some cookies." he beamed, pulling out a tin.

Hermione picked one of the brighter colored beans off of her bedside table and popped it into her mouth. The neon green had resembled a lime but, instead, turned out to be puss flavored. Hermione gulped it down without chewing and tried to manage a grin.

"Great." she replied, struggling to keep down the first food she had stomached in nearly a week. She could almost feel the rotten bean swimming and heaving in her empty stomach, but tried not to let on. "I should probably wait to eat the rest later though; I haven't had anything real to eat in a while."

"Errrm…right." Replied Ron obliviously. He didn't seem to be paying attention to what Hermione was saying. He stared intently at a piece of his sheets that was slowly being twisted and untwisted around his index finger, waiting for Hermione to ask her question.

"Sirius?"

The answers came faster than she was ready for. The pictures of Hermione's hurt friends were jumbled in her mind: Neville's bloody nose, Ginny's broken ankle and Sirius falling behind the curtain. It was too much to handle at once. Hermione could feel the blood draining from her face and hid her head in her hands. Ron continued the story without notice. He hadn't looked up from the spot on his bed in minutes, focused on finishing the story. There was no emotion left in his voice, the words had little meaning to him anymore. Ron continued on with an unrelenting urgency, as if he couldn't tell the story fast enough. Finally, with a gulp, he paused to look up at Hermione and gain strength to finish the end of the story. He stared at her for a moment, huddled there on her bed, and continued.

"And then Voldemort show..."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "You said his name." Hermione had lifted her blotchy face from her hands, obviously shocked. She was trembling all over, her face was red and her lips quivered with each word, but there were no tears. She would not cry, not in front of Ron.

The realization hit her hard; Voldemort was real again, even Ron couldn't hide from it anymore. Fighting the mounting temptation to cry Hermione turned over, much quicker than she had meant to. A shot of pain went through her sides, as if someone was tearing her open. Hermione closed her eyes, tight in pain, and prepared herself to block out whatever Ron had left to say. But Ron didn't say anything. She let out a breath of release and readied herself for sleep.

For a while it was quiet in the room. There was a low, off-pitch humming noise coming from Ms. Pomfrey's office in the corner of the hospital wing, and every so often a short snore erupted from Umbridge, but everything was still and the room was steadily growing darker. After a few minutes Ron creaked in his bed, probably turning around. Hermione ignored it; he was just trying to fall back asleep too, she imagined. So it came as a shock to her, when she heard the uneven pad of Ron's tired legs cross the room and felt his weight fall softly onto the corner of her bed.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice was hoarse and nervous sounding.

Hermione dug herself further away from Ron and hid herself into the covers. She winced again, at her stupid mistake. Her head thumped and her side ached from the sudden movement. Hermione hissed out a painful breath, not caring about upsetting Ron anymore. Her hair fell over her face, frizzy and unclean, but she was glad to have the further concealment. They stayed there, silent for a moment again; before Ron prepared himself to speak, placing a scarred hand on her shoulder. Hermione shuddered from his touch and gave a sudden gasp as she saw his hand draw away from under a mass of tangles.

"I'm sorry" Blurted Ron.

Hermione turned cautiously around to see him sitting there on the edge of her bed; a horrified look was on his face.

"Did I hurt you? I-I'm so sorry." Ron was tripping over his words. His hand was drawn away as far from her as possible, lifted up in the air, as if it were threatening. His face was contorted in absolute fear. But Hermione wasn't concerned with that; she was transfixed upon the deep scars gashed across his face, neck, and hands. Hermione gasped again.

"What did I do? Did I hurt you?" Ron's voice picked up with fervor, his eyes traced over her, trying to identify any pain he might have caused her.

"No." Replied Hermione quietly. "It's just, your scars, they look terrible."

Ron blushed from the attention and his obviously haggard appearance. He turned his head, trying to hide the red pigment spreading to his ears and neck. Ron nervously fidgeted around in his seat. He tugged on, his now, scarlet ears and then pulled back his hair from his face, inadvertently revealing another deep scar above his left eyebrow. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Finally, giving into the embarrassment, he managed out:

"Nurse Pomfrey says that tentacles give some of the hardest scars to get rid of, but they should disappear, for the most part." Ron turned and forced a smile towards Hermione, still embarrassed. "It's not that bad; my legs still hurt a little bit. Those things can wrap around you pretty tight" he finished with a nervous laugh.

"Ron." Hermione yelped in protest. "You were limping!"

The red tint disappeared from Ron's face and he smiled down at her critically. Hermione suddenly felt as if they were back in Gryffindor tower. It was the same look that Ron would give her every time she nagged him about finals or Fred and George about their pranks.

"But…" Hermione said, trying to defend herself. She scowled back at him, as he cocked his head and turned his bright eyes back down at her, the smile still there; he was mocking her. The superiority that he was able to achieve by just sitting up, when she couldn't was aggravating to her. The added height seemed to boost his ego, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not get up. Hermione relented, grumbling into her pillow. Ron had won. He chuckled in reply.

"I came over here to see how you were doing, ya know? I'm alright." His face gave way, back into concern.

"I'm fine." retorted Hermione, still bitter. She inched away again, letting out a puff of air, and wrenching her face in extreme discomfort.

"Yeah." said Ron, sarcastically, pulling a tuft of matted hair away from her face and letting it fall into a frazzled mess on her pillow. "You look great."

Hermione frowned.

"Look…" Ron exhaled. He knew he was losing her attention, and both of their patience's were thinning. "I wasn't okay after I heard about Sirius either. But I've had nearly a week to deal with it, and well…you haven't."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"You can't be alright with this." Ron waited in the still silence for an answer but didn't receive one. Hermione lay there looking up at him without a sound.

Ron's eyes wandered back and forth; he was running out of ideas. He steadied himself, exhaled and reached out his hand. He rested it atop the tips of Hermione's thin fingers and waited to be shrugged away again.

Hermione's eyes were closed when she first felt Ron's touch. She could feel the bump from a particularly large scar on his palm and traced the edge of it with her finger tip. She opened her eyes and gave a grim smile, now grasping his hand.

"They really got you, didn't they?" Hermione didn't expect an answer.

Ron shook his head slowly, without sound. He was shocked, but managed a grin. His grip tightened; he gave an affectionate squeeze of comfort and let his shoulders fall back into a more comfortable position.

Hermione felt the renewed strength in his grip before she saw it in his face. A comfort washed over her and she looked into his face to find a new sort of confidence in him that she had never seen before. His face was set, determined to help her and yet he seemed relaxed there with her. There was no blush on his cheeks, he did not seem uncomfortable or on guard. Ron had grown up in the last week; she had missed so much.

"No." managed Hermione, surprised in herself. "I'm not okay."

The tear Hermione had been fighting back sprang down her cheek. Ron watched the tear fall and was tempted for a moment to wipe it away, but he couldn't help but feel that he had intruded on some part of Hermione that she didn't want to let go. He was getting too close and his confidence was beginning to waver.

"I know." replied Ron steadily, trying to gain back his courage.

Hermione pulled her hand away from Ron's grip. He was released from the conversation. Ron pushed himself off of her bed; he would let her sleep. They could talk more, later when she wasn't so worn out; he'd have to tell Ms. Pomfrey that Hermione had woken up, in the morning. Hermione had dealt with enough for the night.

The last thing that Hermione heard before she drifted off into fitful sleep was the sound of Ron slowly hobbling towards his own bed. He had really been hurt.

Thanks for reading. The fic should have a total of 4 chapters. I'm currently editing chapters 2 and 3. It shouldn't be long before the next 2 are posted. Please review and remember there's a difference between constructive and destructive critisism. Thanks!