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The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at Checkmated, and is rated R.

Of Hearts and Heroes

Chapter Seven

Hermione didn't know how long after Ron left that she lay sobbing into her pillow. She did know that she had never felt so alone or so ugly in her life. And that was saying something.

She heard someone calling her. Though the pillow muffled the sound, a soft concerned voice said, "Blimey, Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione froze, clutching the pillow to her face. She recognized that voice. Ginny. Great, this was just great. One more person to witness her humiliation. Ron's sister, nonetheless. She was never taking her head out of this pillow.

"Come on, Hermione…" Ginny wheedled, as she gently attempted to peal the pillow away from her face. But Hermione was feeling childish and defiant and gripped it to herself fiercely, shaking her head. Couldn't she be allowed to morn the death of her dreams in peace?

"Hermione, will you please..." There was an edge of impatience in Ginny's tone as she took control of the tug-a-war and wrenched the pillow away violently, leaving Hermione's head to fall on the hard bed, bereft.

"All right, there, Hermione?" Ginny asked in an amused tone. Then she seemed to see the misery on Hermione's face and the tears that, despite her best efforts, she couldn't control. A worried look came over the Ginny's face, and she scanned the room, finally asking anxiously, "Where's Ron?"

Hermione rolled over and looked up at Ginny. "He's fine," she said wretchedly. It sounded like a whine. Hermione Granger did not whine. Damn Ron Weasley! Hermione reached for the pillow again and Ginny scowled at her, tossing the pillow across the room. Damn Weasleys, a curse on their red heads!

"Hermione," Ginny demanded. "Where is my brother?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "He's taking a bath." Hermione had a clear image of Ron's lanky form bent over the water basin. She made him sick. He couldn't get away from her fast enough. Fresh tears leaked around her closed lids.

"Then what's the matter? Does this have to do with Sirius or…?"

"No, no." Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. She opened her eyes and swiped her face with open palms. "It's nothing that significant."

"Then what?" The younger girl asked softly. The concern in her voice made Hermione's tears fall anew. She shook her head and looked away. "Just tell me," Ginny insisted.

"It's just…" Hermione clenched her jaw. Ginny probably wasn't the best person to tell given her relation, but who else was there? Considering her words carefully, Hermione softly explained, "I made Ron sick is all."

Ginny actually laughed. "What? Don't be silly, the last thing you make Ron is sick. Barmy, maybe."

The laugh was not reassuring, though suddenly Hermione had the need to make Ginny appreciate the severity of the situation. "You don't understand. I made him sick, literally."

"Hermione," Ginny scoffed, shaking her head, disbelievingly.

"No, Ginny," she said urgently. "He…" Hermione faltered, unable to get the words out. "He was going to… I mean, it looked like… I thought he was going to kiss me---"

Ginny squealed, "Oh my god, that's so---"

"Then he wretched in the sink." Hermione was surprised at her own matter-of-fact tone.

"What?" Ginny let out one giggle, then bit her lip to still the rest.

Hermione frowned at her. That's right, laugh. It was right hysterical. She no longer gave a care for the tears pouring down her cheeks. She deserved a good cry. It was all over, all her hopes. How could she ever have thought there was a chance with Ron? Why would he be attracted to her? Why would anyone?

Ginny searched Hermione's face, the humor fading from the younger girl's expression. "All right, start over. There's got to be more to the story than that."

Yeah, Hermione thought, Ron also thought she was a self-centered egomaniac and he hated her. Oh, and she might possibly be in love with him, so she was probably going to spend the rest of her life as a pitiful old maid surrounded by cats and dusty old books. Yes, that about summed up the situation.

Ginny pulled up a chair and leaned over, placing a hand on Hermione's and squeezing. Her tone was genuine and intent. "Look, I know my brother. That doesn't make sense. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."

Since she had no pride left, and no one else to tell, Hermione recounted the events to Ginny. She couldn't help but shudder at the horrible things she and Ron had said to one another. A few hours ago, she would have sworn that Ron was lashing out because he had been afraid for her, because she had almost died. Now…

What if he didn't really care that much? What if he really meant all the terrible things he said to her?

"…so he was, kind of lying half on top of me, his lips practically…" Hermione took a lungful of air. "Then he was gone, across the room, bent over the sink, vomiting. Next thing I knew he was asking Madam Pomfrey for a bath. He couldn't get away from me fast enough."

"Oh, Hermione---"

Great. Pity.

"---I'm sure---"

"Sure what, Ginny? What else could it possibly be? Ron found himself in a place of physical intimacy with me and it made him sick." Hermione was proud that she had sounded so logical. It made her feel more herself, even if herself was miserable.

"No," Ginny said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't believe it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It happened."

"Look, he's ill. You're in the bloody hospital for god's sake. He was feeling sick. That's why he didn't eat lunch. He was all worked up over the whole Avada Kadavrathing, worried about you. You two wrestled…" Ginny gave a suggestive eyebrow raise. "He felt like he was going to hurl, so in a rare moment of consideration, he got off of you," Ginny couldn't resist another leer for emphasis. "So he wouldn't be sick on you. Then he was so humiliated, he skittered on out of here. That sounds more like the Ron we know and love."

Hermione shook her head despondently. "Thanks, Ginny, but I don't think so." She refused to acknowledge that the panicked emptiness she had been feeling had lessened. It was too tempting to believe her, too dangerous.

"I know so," Ginny responded confidently.

Talking helped. The desperate misery was gone and Hermione felt calmer. Now she felt the sudden need to change the subject, to have a moment of distance. Hermione dried her eyes and asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Ginny's eyes widened. She seemed thrown by the question. "Oh, I… I, um, just came by to help with research and tell you about spying---"

"No, before, you said you wanted to talk without Ron." Hermione looked at her curiously. Ginny was acting strange, all of a sudden.

"Oh, that." Ginny gave a great show of nonchalance. It wasn't fooling anyone. "Yeah… er maybe this isn't the best time."

"What is it?" Hermione insisted. Ginny wilted under her demanding gaze. "Look, after what I just told you---"

That got her. Guiltily, Ginny defended herself, "I just thought that now might not be the best time to ask you for advice about boys."

Hermione sighed and was actually able to smile at her own expense. "Ginny, it's never a smart time to ask me for advice on boys."

Ginny scoffed. "You've just had a bad day."

Hermione harrumphed. Her experience with boys consisted of following around her two best friends and watching them fall for other girls. Even Viktor didn't count as experience. She let Ron believe it was more than it ever was. Really, it was nothing more than a casual friendship. "So, is this about Michael?" she prompted.

"No, we're over." Ginny wrinkled her nose and lowered her voice in embarrassment. "It's about Dean Thomas."

"Dean Thomas?" the older girl exclaimed, truly shocked.

"Shhh! I don't want Ron to know."

Hermione lowered her voice. "You fancy Dean?"

"I dunno, maybe. He fancies me."

Of course, he fancied her. What wasn't to fancy about Ginny Weasley? "Really? How do you know?"

"Well, he kinda kissed me." Ginny cringed and bit her lip, waiting for Hermione's reaction.

She blinked at her. Truth was Hermione didn't know how to react. She was still stuck on the simple fact that Dean kissed Ginny. Didn't almost kiss her. Didn't yank himself off of her and vomit. But kissed her, like a normal boy and a normal girl. He kissed her. That's what boys do when a girl's pretty and funny and nice to be around. When they're kissable. When they're somebody like Ginny.

"When?" Hermione managed to ask.

If possible, Ginny looked even guiltier. "Last night in his dorm room."

"Ginny!" Hermione cried out in astonishment and maybe a tiny bit of envy. She quickly asked in a hushed tone. "What in the world were you doing in his dorm room?"

"It's not like that. I was looking for Harry… just to talk, ask him what happened with Adrianna, you know, and Dean found me." Ginny paused and Hermione gave her an expectant look. "I was pulling back the curtain of his bed… How was I supposed to know which one was his? Anyhow, Dean assumed I was looking for him and he cornered me and… kissed me."

"Wow." It was almost romantic in an odd sort of way. Hermione couldn't believe that she was actually jealous of being cornered and kissed in the boys' dorm. It was almost funny. Wouldn't everyone be shocked if they knew? "Do you like him?"

Ginny looked off in the distance, suddenly contemplative. Hermione wondered what the hesitation was. "I don't know, last night it was exciting and sexy---"

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, laughing.

She gave a saucy smirk and Hermione couldn't help but grin back, vicariously sharing in her friend's thrill. It would be all the thrills she'd be getting for a while.

"So," Ginny said as if starting the conversation anew. "What do you think about Dean Thomas?"

Hermione sat back, relaxing. What did she think about Dean Thomas? It was a difficult question, as she hadn't spent much time thinking about him at all. "He's nice." she offered.

Ginny's lip twitched. "Nice, huh. That's the best you can do?"

Hermione shrugged and said apologetically, "At least I can't come up with anything negative to say."

Ginny smirked at her and said playfully, "So, what's it like to walk around with blinders on? Not able to see anyone but my brother?"

"I see Harry, as well," Hermione replied in a tiny voice. Though not in the same way. She was too pathetic.

"Hey, Hermione. Just talk to him. He adores you. I know it. He's er…" Ginny tapped her finger lightly and looked up saying softly, "He's here."

Hermione turned to watch Ron shuffle in with wet hair and a downtrodden expression. He was busy rubbing his hair vigorously with a small towel. When he saw Ginny, he paused, mid rub. He looked at his sister with a worried expression.

He was worried about what they were talking about. Oh dear. Hermione had betrayed him to his only sister. He'd be humiliated if he knew. What kind of person was she? She'd never once thought of that. Did that make her a horrible person?

Then Ron's gaze met hers for the briefest second. The rage that had filled his blue eyes before was gone. Now the bright depths were full of despair and…possibly shame. Hermione knew she was a horrible person. She hoped it was shame. Shame meant that Ginny could be right and she might still hold a chance.

Ron shifted his feet, eyes on the ground. When he broke the silence it was to ask, "Ginny, er… could you give me and Hermione a minute alone? Please?"

Hermione swallowed as her anxiety rose. Did he want Ginny gone so that he could let her down gently? She heard his voice in her head. 'I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't know you felt that way. I'm sorry but I can't…'

Ginny was making some excuse as she left. Hermione barely heard her. When she passed her brother, she turned to mouth 'he's embarrassed' and give Hermione an encouraging smile. Ginny slipped out the door.

Hermione was not that easily placated. He may be embarrassed, but of what? That he had touched her?

Once he was sure Ginny was gone, Ron shuffled to her and cautiously sat on the edge of her bed. He kept himself completely turned away from her, focusing his eyes across the room. Great, now he couldn't bear to look at her.

Ron swallowed twice before he seemed able to make words come out. "I...er, Hermione, all right, there?"

A short, hysterical giggle bubbled out of her. All right, indeed. "I'm fine, you?"

He smiled a bitter smile.

Hermione rushed to continue, "I mean, how's your stomach?" The lump was back in her throat.

Ron's eyes squeezed shut. "Still queasy." His hands fisted. "Hermione, I…Did I hurt you? I mean when I attacked---" His voice broke.

"Ron! No! You didn't…" How could he think…? "You didn't attack me!"

"I'm so sorry," Ron said in a hushed voice. He seemed so raw.

Hermione heard herself say, "Don't be sorry, please, not for that… I…" She didn't know what to say. She wanted to make it better. She needed him to be able to look at her again. Words having failed her, she reached out to tentatively touch his hand.

Ron snatched it away making her heart drop, but no sooner had he taken it away then he grabbed her hand back so hard that it hurt. Hermione blew out a puff of air and blinked away tears. Oh, god, she did, she loved him. She was doomed.

Hermione turned her hand in his and laced their fingers. Over the long minutes that followed he seemed to relax almost imperceptibly. Finally, Ron turned to her and said, "So, you have some research I could help you with?"

She smiled. It was a peace offering if ever Hermione had heard one.

Harry had promised Adrianna that he would go to the Great Hall for dinner. She had been called away to yet another meeting with Dumbledore. It seemed that word had spread and every teacher at Hogwarts wanted to meet her, not to mention the Ministry officials. Famous freaky Potters. The whole lot of them.

Once he had entered the castle, Harry found that he couldn't make his feet go to the Great Hall. He imagined the rows of students, secretly sneaking glances at him. Imagined Seamus' pointed questions, the Slytherins' malicious glares…and suddenly Harry was wandering about the castle aimlessly.

He wondered what Adrianna and Dumbledore were discussing in their secret meeting. The mere thought of it gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. Harry reckoned Dumbledore hadn't learned his lesson about secrets.

Harry was sure he had walked long enough that dinner was over when he realized he was in the hall to the hospital wing. He paused before going in. He felt this pulling need to share this new experience of family with his best friends, but at the same time he didn't think he could tolerate Hermione's nagging and suspicions. Not to mention the constant bickering.

In the end, Harry entered the infirmary without being aware that he had made the decision to do so. When he strolled into the room Ron was sitting up with a book over his lap. Hermione's bed was covered by curtains and shielded. Ron was reading intently, which was strange. His best mate was spending far too much time alone with Hermione.

Ron smiled when he saw Harry, "Oy, mate."

Harry did his best to return the smile. He sat at the edge of Ron's bed and gestured to Hermione's shielded curtains. "What's going on?"

Ron's smile faded. "Madam Pomfrey's examining Hermione. She wants to make sure she'll be ready to go back to the dorm tomorrow." Ron just looked at Harry for a long moment. He seemed to be considering something. There was a guilty look on his face. It was beginning to make Harry nervous, when finally Ron said, "She had a bit of a strain today."

Harry felt the sharp tug of fear. Nothing more, please. He couldn't handle it if anything more happened to Hermione. He swallowed. "What happened?"

Ron looked as shamefaced as Harry had ever seen him. He confessed softly, "We had the row to end all rows, mate."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Well, then. Nothing new. He had to close his eyes and shake his head. They would row at a time like this.

Unfortunately, the confession had just begun. "I dunno, mate, she makes me so angry. I mean, how someone who's so brilliant can be so stupid? A silencing charm? A ruddy silencing charm? You and I both know she's an expert at a dozen hexes, but she has to be creative, be a bloody humanitarian."

Ron looked miserable. Only he could get into a fight with Hermione because he cared too much. Ron had a far away expression as he choked out, "I mean she almost died, Harry."

She almost died. Harry knew it and it cut him to the bone. It was his fault, all of it. Looking at Ron now, Harry was struck by how close he came to being the downfall of the two people that mattered most to him in the world. It was clear that Ron wouldn't survive Hermione's death, not intact anyway.

The pull back into self-pity and grief was strong. It took every ounce of energy Harry had to concentrate on Ron. His best friend deserved someone to listen to him, as difficult as it was. "Is that what you rowed about?" he asked, "The Avada---"

"No." Ron interrupted hastily, as if he couldn't bare the words being said aloud. He ran a hand over his face. "That's why I was so upset. We rowed about everything else. I was just so angry. It er… I got a little physical."

Physical? What the hell did that mean, physical? "You didn't hit her!" Harry demanded in disbelief.

"No, no," Ron said vehemently, but softly, as if to counterbalance the volume of Harry's outburst. "She was trying to get up and I thought… She was going to hurt herself. For someone so brilliant, sometimes she just doesn't think." Ron's intensity flared quickly, and then faded just as abruptly. He blushed, looking away. "So, I, um, kinda pinned her to the bed." He refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"Pinned?" Harry repeated dumbly, shocked. Pinned sounded awfully…sexual. Is that what Ron meant? Harry hadn't been expecting that. Not now anyway. Oh god, Harry didn't think he could handle it if this conversation was going where he thought it was going. He couldn't lose his best friends now, even if it was to each other.

"It wasn't you know… that way," Ron stammered. "All right, it kinda felt that way for a minute." Harry groaned out loud. Ron rushed to finish, "We didn't do anything. I didn't do anything. Nothing happened, except I made a giant arse of myself and hurt her in the process." He rubbed at his eyes. "Then I threw up."

"You did what?" Harry's voice spiked again. Just when he thought he couldn't be more shocked.

"Yeah," Ron stared at the ceiling. "I am such a bloody prat."

Harry blinked, trying to make sense of it all. It didn't help that he hadn't slept in days. Maybe he was just misunderstanding. What Ron was saying didn't make sense, why would he…? He couldn't have…?

Looking at Ron's despondent features, Harry knew he was going to have to enter territory that he had studiously avoided for two years. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, "Don't you think Hermione's attractive?" There was no good answer to that question.

If it were possible, Ron turned redder. He sat there stammering for a few minutes, before whispering harshly, "Yes, I find her ruddy attractive. Shite, too bloody---"

"Then why?"

"Why what?" Ron looked genuinely confused.

He was so thick sometimes. "What made you sick?"

"I dunno. I was just sick. I hadn't been feeling well since Adrianna mentioned what all those stupid potions were for…" His eyes widened and he met Harry's gaze. "You don't think she thinks…? I mean she wouldn't think that I---"

"That touching her makes you sick to your stomach? Sorry, Mate." Harry was nodding with a grimace on his face. "It's kind of the logical conclusion and being a girl and Hermione---"

"Bloody hell, goddamned bloody hell!" Ron flopped back on his bed with his eyes closed.

Despite everything, Harry almost laughed. Ron had really done it this time. There was something comfortingly familiar about the whole situation.

They both froze as they heard Madam Pomfrey's voice, indicating that the shield had been removed from around Hermione's bed. Ron was flustered. He kept looking around the room like a frightened animal. What was he looking for?

The Healer pulled the curtains away. Ron rushed to straighten himself and look normal. Harry felt a rush of sympathy for his best friend. There was no way he was going to look normal.

When Hermione appeared from behind the curtains she looked at Harry with surprise. She smiled and bit her lip. "Harry, how are you?" she asked in a cautious, nervous voice.

"All right," Harry lied.

"Oh, good." She seemed uncomfortable and kept glancing between him and Ron. "So er… how are things going with your cousin?"

With more than a little trepidation, Harry answered, "All right." What was she about?

"Well, that's good then." Hermione looked down at her hands while she wrung them. "Um, Harry, I just want you to know that I think it's great that you have family here. I mean, she seems…nice. I just… I'm sorry if I came off a bit intense. I just worry about you."

Wow, where'd that come from? Harry stared at her, open mouthed. That was the last thing he expected from Hermione. He glanced at Ron. What had he done to her? Somehow, Harry just knew that Hermione's odd behavior was related to…well, Ron's odd behavior.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, when he found his voice. Despite everything he felt a strong wave of affection for her. They shared a soft smile.

Further uncomfortable conversation was avoided when Ginny walked in looking somewhat haggard and holding a large paper bag. She really had fantastic timing. Ginny promptly plopped the bag between Harry and Ron on the bed and threw herself into the chair between the beds.

"Adrianna said you hadn't eaten yet and that I was to bring you that and make you eat," the redhead explained, looking put out. "A bit annoying, really. I have to tell you, Harry. She's extremely bossy and does not know how to mind her own business."

Harry only managed a shrug in response. He opened the bag to find it filled with bread and fried chicken.

"Brilliant!" Ron said, grabbing a chicken leg.

"Ron," Hermione chastised. "You just ate."

"Stomach feeling better, then?" Ginny asked wickedly. Ron blushed bright red and glared at her, but didn't respond.

Harry picked at a piece of bread. "She knew I never came to dinner, then?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please, she's like Mum, if Mum could read your mind."

Ron shot her a horrified look and shuddered, "Don't even say that out loud."

Ginny grew serious. "She's wicked powerful, Harry. I mean if an Empath went bad---"

"Mmmm," Ron mumbled excitedly, his mouth full of food. He was practically bouncing on his bed as he swallowed impatiently. "That's what this book is about. This Empath goes really bad, like, fantastically evil. Then along with this dark wizard ravages half of Europe, making slaves of the magical world."

Harry frowned and lifted the book to peer at the cover. The Great Empath Massacre.

Ron continued his story, seemingly having forgotten his Hermione dilemma in his enthusiasm. "Then, they kill this Austrian bloke's wife and children, and this bloke gets this army together and obliterates the Empath and her whole gang."

"Let me see that," Ginny said skeptically, grabbing the book.

"Wait, I haven't got to the best part," Ron said his eyes bright. "His army tears through Europe, killing everyone even remotely related to an Empath, any Empath. Women, children, babies---

"Oh, Ron! The best part?" Hermione exclaimed, clearly horrified.

"---they went through Asia and Africa, destroying everything that has to do with Empathy, books, charms, heirlooms," Ron finished with a proud grin.

"This reads like a cheap novel," Ginny criticized, as she thumbed through the book.

"What? Just 'cause it's fun to read," Ron attempted to snatch the book back. Ginny pulled it toward her, not willing to relinquish it so easily. He and his sister struggled in a tugging contest.

Hermione rolled her eyes at them, saying seriously, "All the books are like that. I think it's the translating spell Adrianna used. Translated it to the same speaking language the caster speaks. That one is the worst, though. Adrianna cast that spell, it's a bit American."

Harry grinned, feeling nicely distracted. He realized he hadn't had an extraneous thought throughout the entire exchange. He suddenly had the urge to read these monstrous books. "Can I see that?" he asked the still struggling siblings.

They both paused, looking disappointed, but they turned it over to Harry without argument. Harry guessed this was the upside to pity. He pushed those dark thoughts away as he flipped through the book. It read like an adventure novel, complete with gory, moving pictures.

"Here Ron, you can read this one." Hermione handed him The Legend and Legacy of the Empath. "There are plenty of Empaths going crazy and falling off cliffs and the like. You should enjoy it."

Ron pouted. "I want the diary. I bet that's juicy."

"The diary is mine," Hermione said possessively, clutching it to her.

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. "Find something interesting?" He was surprised to find he was anxious when asking the question.

"It's a fascinating read. This girl's father and mother hid in caves for years to escape The Massacre. Poor thing was completely sheltered until she was twelve when she was callously married off and shipped to England. She had only ever felt her family members' emotions, then suddenly she was reading dozens of people."

"Blimey. They're all cheap novels," Ginny ridiculed, slouching in her chair.

"Then you shouldn't mind reading the last one." Hermione handed her The Lost Art of Empathy. Ginny frowned but made herself comfortable in her chair and began reading.

Harry smiled to himself as he lounged back at the end of the hospital bed, spreading out his book. After several minutes had passed he looked up at his friends, each engrossed in their own text. Ron occasionally ate from the shared bag of chicken. Harry took a piece for himself.

Definitely a better evening than he had expected.

Hermione was awoken from her troubled sleep by a terrified voice calling her name. She jerked up, her heart beating wildly, expecting an attack.

She quickly realized she was in the infirmary. It was just Ron calling out from another nightmare. Hermione squinted her eyes in the darkness. He was tangled in his bedclothes, covered in sweat. He looked much worse then he had in previous nights. Was this just another nightmare or was he sick? He could have a fever, could be delirious.

"No, please…Hermione," Ron moaned, thrashing.

Definitely a nightmare. Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, watching him, contemplating her next move. Last night, Hermione would have gone to him in an instant. She would have soothed his worried brow with her fingers and whispered calming words.

Last night, she was under the apparently mistaken perception that Ron might actually want her touch, that it wouldn't make his flesh crawl. Last night, she was actually deluded enough to think he might care for her.

"Hermione." Ron's head rolled on the pillow and tears came to her eyes. She had to look away.

Snap out of it, Hermione told herself. She was a rational witch. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and start looking at things logically.

Clearly, Ron cared about her. He was calling out her name in his sleep, for heaven's sake. That wasn't a delusion. And she knew why. He was dreaming of her dead, or dying; rewriting the end of the Department of Mysteries. Yes, he cared for her, but as a friend, maybe even as a sister. Hermione cringed at the thought.

Ron sobbed in his sleep, "God, no."

Yet, what did it matter really? Even if he could never love…care for her like she…damn it…love her the way she loved him. She did love him and she wasn't going to stand by and watch him suffer, not out of some fool pride of hers.

Hermione rose unsteadily to her feet. She told herself that she needed to walk sometime. She should have walked before this. Would have, if it wasn't for Ron's over-protectiveness. She couldn't leave tomorrow if she wasn't mobile.

"Please, please. Don't be dead," Ron moaned, spurring her into motion.

It only took three wobbly steps and Hermione collapsed on the side of his bed. Without thought she reached out and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. It was damp with sweat making the red strands even darker. She pressed her trembling palm against his brow, sighing in relief when there was no sign of fever. Hermione almost pressed a kiss where her hand lie. Heavens, she was a masochist.

"You can't leave me," Ron implored.

Hermione voice broke as she reassured him, "No, I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

"Hermione! I need you," he wept.

She knew in that moment that it didn't matter how he felt about her. She would stand beside him until the world ended. All that mattered was that she loved him and he needed her.

Hermione leaned down to his ear and said in a soft, insistent voice. "Ron, I'm here. It's Hermione. I'm not dead." She allowed herself to run her hands freely over his hair and face. It felt wonderful.

"Hermione?" he called more softly. His eyes didn't open, though he relaxed minutely.

"I'm right here."

Sobbing, Ron reached for her. Hermione bit her lip in an effort to force back a strangled cry of her own. She felt herself fall into his grasping arms. He pulled her close and she closed her eyes at the feel of it. She buried her face in his chest, allowing herself a minute.

Then, taking a deep breath, she focused on evening her voice and brought up her face so she could whisper calming things into his ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders.

She felt him jerk against her and her hands froze. His head pulled back from her shoulder and Hermione looked up into Ron's piercing blue gaze. She steeled herself for rejection.

"Hermione?" This time when he said her name it was with confusion and disbelief. Of course, it must seem odd to wake up with a girl wrapped around him. It was natural to be a bit off put.

"Um…" she breathed, swallowing. "You were dreaming..." Hermione desperately racked her mind for a way to make him see that she was just there to comfort him. She wasn't throwing herself at him. Not really.

The thought became obsolete as Ron's arms tightened, crushing her against his chest. He pressed his wet face tightly into the space between her neck and shoulder. Hermione could barely make out his muffled words. He seemed to be chanting, "Thank god, thank god."

Hermione felt the nervous tension leave her body, and she gave herself over completely to her need to sooth him. She wrapped her arms more fully around him. His shirt clung, damp, to his back. She grasped at it.

After long moments, she felt the tension in the muscles under her hands lessen. He sighed into her shoulder and she felt his warm breath through her pajama shirt. Finally, she could make out his words out clearly. "Hermione, it was so horrible."

He was going to break her heart, he really was. "It wasn't real. Everything's fine. It was just a dream. Here, now, lie down." Hermione coaxed him to lie back. He fell backwards easily but he wouldn't loosen his grip on her. She was pulled onto his chest.

Hermione tensed, having expected him to let go, but his response was to hug her harder. It was a good thing Madam Pomfrey had finished healing her ribs today. Ron was stronger than he looked.

"Don't leave me," he begged. A lump came to Hermione's throat. She knew he wasn't fully alert or he never would have said something like that. It wasn't like him to show so much vulnerability. It was her final undoing.

"Shhh, love," she whispered, relaxing. "I'm here. I'm staying right here. I'll never leave. Go to sleep. Go to sleep." Even as she said it Hermione realized it was true. She wasn't going to leave, not ever.

Hermione had made a decision. She was going to enjoy whatever she could get from Ron. Pride wasn't going to get in her way. She wasn't going to waste a single opportunity, because it might not come again.

And tonight might be the only night she ever got to sleep in his arms.

Harry had been standing at the edge of the lake staring beyond the cool surface since before dawn. When the sun came up, he wondered how it got the strength to do that each day.

He had come to find that mornings were the hardest. No matter what had happened the day before to cheer him, or more accurately distract him, none withstood the harsh morning light, or in this case the fuzzy predawn haze. Not since Sirius had died.

Sirius had died. Sirius was dead. At least, he had gotten to a place were he could think the full thought without breaking apart. Watching the sun rising slowly in the sky, Harry tried to imagine Sirius looking down on him, looking out for him.

It was a lovely fairy-tale Adrianna wove. He could almost believe it when she was sitting next to him. Harry wondered what would happen to him once he was back at the Dursleys. Without anyone to distract him, to make him believe the pretty lies, to convince him that he wasn't responsible for the death of his Godfather, would he ever be able to get out of bed again? Is that what he deserved? Did anyone deserve that?

Yet, Harry had no choice. He had to be protected. He was the Order's one weapon against Voldemort. The only one who could kill him and the only price…Harry's soul. Certainly, not a steep price to pay.

"Hey, Broody McBrood." Harry turned to see his cousin jog toward him calling out, "Ginny said you've been out here since dawn."

Instead of responding to her question, he took her presence as a welcome distraction and breathed a sigh of relief. "What are you wearing?" he asked incredulously. Her white workout suit did not belong at Hogwarts.

"Japanese training suit." Adrianna came to a halt in front of him and took in his rumpled appearance. "Strong in body, strong in spirit and mind… Though the first step is eating, which you haven't."

Harry turned back out to the lake. "What's with you and food?"

"What's with you and starvation?" she asked pointedly and smiled, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sunrise. "So, what are we brooding about this lovely morning?"

He smiled grimly, "Oh, just my destiny as a murderer."

"Ah, I see. The whole killing Voldemort thing?" Harry nodded, kicking a rock into the lake. She continued, "And murder and killing are the same?" Another nod followed. Adrianna took a deep breath and she looked out, beyond the lake. "How many men have you killed Harry?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "You mean besides Sirius?"

"Yes, besides Sirius. I'm quite sure he doesn't count."

"Well, then none. How many have you killed?" he asked sarcastically.

"Five." Harry had not been prepared for that answer. She looked at him very seriously. "Do you think I'm evil, Harry?" He gaped at her, suddenly uneasy. "Don't answer that." She smiled ironically. "I've fought some really dark creatures…and men. You can't do that and not kill."

"But how can you live with yourself?" Harry hadn't meant for it to come out as an accusation, but it did.

"There are no moral absolutes, Harry. Sometimes killing is the right thing to do."

It was bizarre standing there, talking about the men she had killed. Adrianna stood, clothed in stark white, looking innocent and serene. He imagined her with blood on her hands and he shuttered.

"Several years ago, when I had recently become an Auror---"

Harry groaned. "Is this where I get my fable, moral and all?"

"Yes, now shush, unless you really don't want to hear it?" Harry stayed quiet. "We were tracking a particularly dark wizard through Eastern Europe. He left a trail of victims behind him, tortured, murdered. We caught up with him in Western Hungry. I was the one to finally capture him. It would have been easier to kill him. I almost lost an arm and a friend in my efforts to capture him alive. It seems so stupid now."

Adrianna blinked up at the sun. "I used to think it was so important to try not to kill. I was very self-righteous, really. Biggest mistake I ever made." Adrianna lost herself in thought for a moment

Harry's stomach clenched as he watched her. He really didn't want to hear the punch-line to this story.

"So, we um…" Adrianna seemed to fortify herself to finish the story. "We turned him over to the local authorities. They were supposed to transport him to the closest wizard prison."

Adrianna looked down and rubbed a temple. "He broke free two weeks later, killed three in the process. It took us months to find him again. When we did it was in this village outside of Prague. It had been…" her breath hissed, "decimated is the only word I can think of. Burning, raping, slaughter, bodies of children…" she trailed off, cringing.

"Your stories aren't much fun," Harry whispered softly.

"I never regretted anything like I regret not killing that man. I still feel responsible for every death that followed his escaping." Adrianna swallowed. "When we had caught up with him, he laughed at me, said he'd escape again in a minute. I killed him instantly. Cutting spell to the throat. That I never regretted."

Harry gulped through the lump in his throat.

Adrianna finally turned and looked at him. She had her arms tightly crossed. "People like us Harry, we don't have the luxury of moral absolutes."

Harry turned his face away. "What if I don't want to be people like us?"

"Ignoring destiny never turns out well. Harry, I know a lot of heroes. Most of them have killed at one time or another. I've seen their souls and their souls are beautiful."

Harry laughed and sniffed. He shouldn't feel unburdened by such a horrible tale. "Adrianna?"

She hummed in reply.

"When I'm at the Dursleys will you come and tell me horrible stories?" Harry wished he didn't sound so vulnerable.

She looked out to the lake again and clenched her jaw. "The Dursleys," she said bitterly. "I'm not sure that will be necessary. We'll see."

Harry felt a rush of hope, but pushed it aside. She couldn't mean that she could keep him from going back there?

As he watched, Adrianna pulled herself out of her reflection and smiled at him. "Come on. Your friends are throwing a party for Ron and Hermione, and I promised Ginny you'd be there."

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic.