Disclaimer.Well, let's just be logic here, shall we? We all know J.K.Rowling owns it all, how else could she have become richer than the Queen, right? Now just imagine her EVER coming to this site..she'd immediately see a summary to an M rated slash fic..sorry to all you slash fans out there...but I'm betting she'd have a heart attack. So we're kinda assuming I'm not her. Cause I'm here at all. ))))

Summary."Still somebody loses cause there's no way to turn around"..Having to betray the person you care about more than your own life, even to be with the one you love, can tear anyone's soul into pieces.

Pairing.Well, considering I'm the author, it's just stupid to ask. Ron and Hermione of course! I'm one of the most faithful RWHG shippers!

A/N.OK, this is my FIRST attempt at English-language fanfiction, andEnglish ain't my first language. I mean, I don't even live in an English-speaking country! So puhleeeeeeease be gentle when you REVIEW! Cure my writer's inferiority complex, I beg of you)))

Rating.T, but mostly to be safe and cause of swear words. But hey, who knows where the story line will take me wink

Genre.Angst/Romance.

The moon shone brightly at the Hogwarts grounds. The silvery path gleamed in the shining surface of the pond, so its still waters seemed a giant Pensieve, where memories of dozens of generations of students stirred together to make the place seem more magic than it already was.

But the castle that gloomily overlooked the shining pond and silent Forest was no longer a place of study and laughter as it had been merely six months before. No, after Albus Dumbledore's tragic death, Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry ceased to exist. Even those who wished to continue studying magic never came back to these lonesome hills. The rest of the teaching staff was forced to leave. Most of Hogwarts' former students continued their education either in other British magic schools or in different Muggle educational institutions.

However, the castle was not at all abandoned. It had become a place of studies quite different to those formerly taught here. The name of the school situated in the Hogwarts castle was the British Magic War Academy.

True, those who wished to continue studying magic never returned to their old school. Those who wished to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters, did.

The Academy had, of course, existed long before Hogwarts school stopped its existence. HOwever, the state of an all-out war, declared by the Minister of Magic after Dumbledore's death, had made it possible for the Academy to take on much younger students than it used to. Before the war, the age of admittance had been 19. Now, disregarding heated debates within and outside the Ministry, the plank had been lowered to 16.

The Wizarding Army had been mobilized once again, as it had been once, a long time ago, at the time of Voldemorts first steps into power. Now the time had come for people to remember the ranks of the Army, and those who had been сalled Aurors suddenly became Coronels, Generals and Captains. The names of the ranks themselves reminded everyone of the war state and caused a massive fear attack in the Wizarding community. As for the War Academy, its students started it as Cadets and were supposed to graduate as Lieutenants.

Despite all efforts of concerned parents to keep their children away from anything remotely connected to weapons, battles or Voldemort, for that matter, the Academy's first year of the new age plank proved, that many Hogwarts' 6 and 7 years had signed up to join the Army. Among them were, of course, the golden trio - Harry Potter, ROn Weasley and Hermione Granger - most of their fellow Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, some Hufflepuffs and, amazingly enough, even a couple of Slytherins.

Of course, the new school barely resembled good old Hogwarts, home to everyone, a place of warm memories. Now it was a military school if there ever was one.

Houses were now replaced by Divisions, and former house-mates were often in different Divisions as there were 8 of them. Old school uniforms with house crests had changed into dark-blue military uniforms, same for young men and girls of all Divisions, except girls wore knee-high navy skirts instead of pants. Dormitories now contained not four-poster, but plain beds with dark covers, and everything not connected with studies, such as Dean's football poster, had been removed. The Great Hall had never looked gloomier, its grey walls now bare and no familiar faces at the Staff Table. Behavior rules had gotten much more strict, and cadets were to salute their professors in the halls, speak up only if they were commanded to do so and there was definetely no roaming around in the halls or at the grounds at night.

One thing that had stayed behind as a reminder of the schools' democratic past was that there was no separate Girls division, so classes were combined for boys and girls. However girls now lived and ate separately. Visits in the Common Rooms were allowed though, but strictly within hours. The trips to Hogsmeade had, naturally, been cancelled. All in all, Hogwarts Castle had changed drastically, and if anyone knew just how much, it was the all-time rule-breakers, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Ever since the enlisting in the Academy their thoughts were occupied with the upcoming battle with Voldemort, which was surely to come any time soon. They spent their time discussing Horcruxes, Death Eaters and the weapons they were currently studiyng. Each put an extra effort in studies, in theory as in practice. And there was a LOT of practice. Every morning they would wake up and head to the Quidditch field (only to be reminded that there would be no more Quidditch, of course), and run their laps along with the other boy members of their Division. Girls didn't have as many practical lessons, they took a Mediwizarding course instead. After the morning work-out, they would head to breakfast, after which a long day of War training began. As useful and developing these studies may have been, one thing was ruining their life for them, and that thing was the absence of their best friend, Hermione Granger.

That is, she had been their best friend in sixth year. Now she meant a thousand times more for both.

For Harry, she was the girl who he had seeked comfort in after his breakup with Ginny, she was what some would call his girlfriend, but no one would ever hear those words escape Harry's mouth. She was the one girl, who he could be with without worrying that the Death Eaters would come after her just because she was his girlfriend. She already was his friend, and if what happened over the summer changed a lot between the both of them, it changed nothing for Harry's enemies. That's why Hermione was the only person he turned to when his heart was still aching after his breakup with Ginny. After that Harry had become absolutely numb in his emotions. He reached out to Hermione, and she didn't reject him. He sometimes wondered if it had been out of pity that Hermione hadn't pushed him away, but he tried not to think about it, for sometimes he felt like deep down he knew the answer and didn't want to face it.

For Ron, Hermione had long before stopped being just a friend. But over the summer her status had once again changed drastically. The red-head often thought about how this one person meant so many things for him at once. Best mate. Childhood memory. His best friend's girl. The love of his life.

Something had gone horribly wrong for him, and Ron felt it every single time he looked at Hermione and was forced to look away before she could have a chance to notice the expression in his eyes. He loved her and he hated himself for it. He hated her for it. He just didn't know what to do, and in the same time he knew there was nothing he could do. He had felt this way for quite a long time now. He constantly felt it was his fault that nothing had worked out for the two of them. If only he hadn't been such a prat in 6 year, if only he hadn't wasted an entire fucking year trying to make Hermione jealous...

Ron had never felt so miserable and angry as when she came to their Common Room in the evenings to visit Harry, because she made him want to hate his best friend. He wanted these feelings to stop, but he could do nothing when he saw Harry hold her hand or touch her cheek. He wanted to take her in his arms and have her all to himself, because he wanted her and needed her more than anything in the world. These feelings made him sick, because every time his body and soul ached for her comfort, he felt like he was betraying Harry and Hermione and himself.

The evening had started out as always. It was evening practice at the Quidditch field, and the male half of Division #5 were running their laps, huffs of warm exhaled air visible in the cold atmosphere. Panting, Harry, Ron and Seamus finished their 7th lap, which was to be followed by a series of push-ups. They were hoping to sneak a few minutes of rest before starting their next exercise, but there was no fooling Gen. Sawyer, who was in charge of the Academy's General Physical Development course. So the boys had no choice but follow his orders and immediately dropped to the ground.

-Ya know,-Ron exhaled after about ten push-ups, - I'm starting to doubt my success in this whole War training business. I mean, it's not bloody likely I'll ever live up to whatever Iron man standart that guy's got planned out for us...

-Weasley! No talking!

Ron went silent, but Harry gave him a friendly grin. It wasn't nessecarily true that Ron was having major difficulties in training. Sure, at every practice most felt that they had just been kicked long and hard, because every time the General would give them more difficult tasks. But Ron wasn't at all behind in training, he and Harry, as well as the others, did their best every single time and their work was gradually paying off. Their arms and legs had grown much stronger, and sometimes Harry felt that Ron had gotten even a bit taller (if that was even possible). But then again, Ron's ever-present inferiority complex hadn't dissapeared. He would still think he was lousy in training, not strong or fast enough. Harry always wondered what it would take for his friend to feel good about himself, when already half the female population of the Academy would turn their heads whenever Ron passed them in the hall. But then again, this was Ron and there was no knowing what really was on his mind.

Completely wiped out after training, the boys headed for the showers and after that, to the Great Hall. As Harry and Ron entered, both noticed that Hermione was absent from her usual place at the girls' table.

-Where do you think she's gone to?-asked Harry, frowning. Ron shrugged, sitting down at the table.

-Maybe she's in the library, studying as always, you know...doing her usual Hermione business,-he suggested, loosening the tie on his uniform. Harry shook his head and began eating. Ron, meanwhile, looked over at the spot where Hermione usually sat, and the familiar feeling of loneliness twitched inside of him.

The ink from her quill dripped down on the parchment, staining the essay entitled "Complex analysis of the bezoar's antidote functions". The draft sheets, already filled with her neat hand-writing, were strewn all over the table, ruffling in the occasional wind coming from the nearby window. The book she had been referring to while writing her essay served as a pillow.

Hermione Granger was asleep.

It wasn't the kind of blissful slumber that Ron Weasley would occasionally sucumb to at the History of Magic lessons. It wasn't the kind of dreamless sleep you would fall into after drinking a special potion. It was the nervous, jerky state of questionable rest that Hermione fell into when her brain was ready to blow (yes, that happened even to her sometimes). She fell into a strange sort of condition, when random images would come to mind, attempting to take on a dream-like form, but never quite turn into full-scale dreams. This wouldn't normally be called rest, but for Hermione's brain it was. Considering just how over-worked, under-slept and extremely neurotic she had gotten that particular year.

She would work herself numb to get some sort of ghostly conviction that she was doing something, ANYTHING to help the cause of those dying every day in bloody encounters with Voldemort's followers. She would study and read even more than usual and, outraged at the too-small amount of physical activities they were supposed to do, she would go to the Quidditch field every evening just before hours to run laps and practice War charms away from others, to be safe. She would do this, then come back and read some more, and at last crawl into bed, but no peace awaited her.

All kinds of freakish dreams would keep her turning, kicking at the covers and eventually waking up in cold sweat. Sometimes there would be nightmares, and she would see Harry, his face covered in blood, strewn on a stone floor, and Death Eaters all over the place, and screams of pain from everywhere around. Sometimes she would see sweet nostalgic things, and it was hard to tell, which was worse - this or the nightmares. She would see worry-free days of their previous years at Hogwarts, all kinds of silly things that seemed important then, she would see Sirius, and Professor Dumbledore, and all the people who had died since then. She would see them happy, and smiling, she would see herself and Ron fighting over some stupid little thing, and Harry, not knowing that his fate was already decided for him, and he had no choice in his life but to be murdered or become a murderer.

After these dreams Hermione would wake up and find a damp pillow and her own cheeks covered in tears.

She had stopped trying to understand herself a while back, as she felt if she tried analyzing the knot of feelings inside of her, she would stumble upon something she didn't necessarily want to find out. However she couldn't ignore the fact that she had become a nervous wreck, and not even 10 laps around the Quidditch field could make that go away.

That was exactly why her body and mind were so tired she fell asleep in the middle of writing her essay. Her rest didn't last long though. Soon she jerked abruptly, realised she had dozed off and immediately felt guilty. Hermione raised her head quickly, turned to the window and nearly gave a loud yelp of surprise when she saw that she wash't alone in the far corner of the library, and there in fact was someone beside her, perched on the windowsill, silent and giving her a very intense stare. But she didn't yell. Hermione merely gasped and said in a loud whisper, clutching at the front of her uniform:

-What do you think you're doing, scaring me like that, Ron!

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