Ron let out a derisive snort. "Does it matter? I'm here now." He turned to look at Hermione, still lying there lifeless in the suffragette outfit she had chosen to wear to the Youth Masque. "I'm here for her. Just like always. Only this time, I get to charge off and be the brave hero and you get to lay there hurt, wishing like hell you could help somehow, but knowing that you can't. Not this time. Maybe not ever."
"This isn't you," Harry insisted, shaking his head despite the pain it caused him. "Not really. It can't be. You...you're not a legilimens."
A bitter laugh escaped Ron's lips. "Mogle was lying about the Amormortis Potion. She's in on it. They all are. Atlas Filch and some blonde bint managed to make you charge off into harm's way, just like You-Know-Who did at the Department of Mysteries." Ron moved closer to Harry so that he was standing over him, his towering frame seeming all the more impressive. "I've been following you around all night. Tonks and Lupin were tailing you for the Order tonight and they invited me to tag along. Didn't know what I'd find when I agreed, of course. Sure as hell didn't expect you two to be off on a date, sneaking around in a graveyard looking for places to snog."
"It wasn't like that," Harry tried to explain, although his voice nearly died in his throat. Panic was evident in his eyes as he looked up at his best mate.
"Shut up!" Ron exclaimed as he raised his sword and swung it at Harry. He barely had time to raise his shield to block the blow. When he did, something very strange happened.
Ron was suddenly gone, and Harry found himself peering through a very different set of eyes. It wasn't at all like when he was seeing things as Voldemort; the uncomfortable sensation of being housed in something that was pure evil was absent, and instead a warm familiarity washed over him. "Professor Lupin?" he heard his own hesitant (and feminine?) voice ask as his hands pushed a door that was cracked fully open.
"I haven't taught you in over two years, Hermione," he heard Remus Lupin answer over his shoulder with a slightly amused expression on his face. "That means I don't have to go through the formality of calling you 'Miss Granger' and you don't have to call me 'Professor' anymore. Why don't we try 'Remus', hm?"
This was Hermione's memory, he realized suddenly. Trying to take everything in, he realized she was at Grimmauld Place and from what Remus was saying, it had to be sometime earlier this summer. Why didn't he know she had visited Lupin? Why hadn't Remus mentioned it on Harry's birthday? "'Remus'? Alright then, Re...er, Mr. Lupin, I was wondering if I could ask you about something."
"Of course," Remus agreed quickly, stashing the papers he was looking at in a nearby desk drawer. Harry's mind began to wander. Why was Hermione showing him this? Was he supposed to be paying attention to something in particular, or should everything be obvious by the end?
"Do you have any pictures of Sirius?" he heard Hermione's voice ask, her tone slightly shaken. "Not recent ones. Older photographs, from when he was young. When he was closer to Harry's age. When..."
"James and Lily were alive?" Remus finished for her as her voice trailed off helplessly. "I believe so. It might take me a few days to gather them together. May I ask why you want them?"
"I just thought it might make a good birthday gift for Harry," Hermione explained and Harry could swear he heard her heart beat faster. "I know it's not my place to give him a gift like that..."
Lupin interrupted her, the teasing tone of his voice chiding her mildly. "On the contrary, I think it speaks volumes about the strength of your friendship that you would think to give him something of such sentimental value. It also says a lot about your courage that you're willing to ask someone who holds a strong sentimental attachment to them himself to give them up."
Harry found Hermione's eyes were no longer meeting Lupin's. "I would completely understand if you said 'no'. I'm sure I can find something else in time."
Remus pulled open a drawer below the one he had used earlier to stow some paperwork and produced a collection of photographs. "Here," he said, his voice warm and compassionate. "I got these out of storage less than a week after Sirius died. I can't seem to stop myself from looking at them and regretting...well, everything." Hermione looked up at Remus, who had a sad smile on his face. "I'm sorry I told you it would take a few days. It is rather difficult for me to part with them." Hermione began to protest, but Lupin stopped her. "Harry needs these more than I do, however. And I believe he would be more appreciative of them if they came from you." His eyes displayed a knowing glint. "You're getting closer, aren't you?"
Hermione seemed nervous all of a sudden. "Closer to what?"
"To Harry," he answered simply. "He needs you, Hermione. I don't think he knows quite how much yet. Be patient with him." Remus flashed her a mischievous grin. "Young men can be rather thick sometimes, you know."
Jarringly, Harry felt Ron's sword drag against his shield as his red-haired best mate pulled it away. He really didn't want to be back here again. "I know what I saw! You think I don't know what's going on? You're trying to steal her from me!" Ron was breathing heavily now and Harry watched his every motion carefully. "Thought if you showed her enough exciting heroics and thrilling adventures she'd swoon in your arms, didn't you?"
"You're being an idiot," Harry growled in reply. "Hermione's not the type to fall at my feet just because I've taken on a few Death Eaters. After all, she's done the same. And she knows I'm not just 'the brave hero'." Ron winced as Harry threw his words back in his face. "As for me stealing her from you, well that's just..." He struggled to explain the idiocy of this concept. "Oh, sod it. Lay the sword down, Ron. You know you're not really going to use it."
"I don't have a choice!" Ron exclaimed, sounding desperate for the first time. "Only one of us can save Hermione, Harry. That's the way the Amormortis Potion works. It has to be the one she loves and deep down you know that that's me." His face looked sheepish. "This isn't your fight, Harry. For once you can't save the day. Please, just let me win. Let me do this for her."
Harry's head was buzzing and it wasn't just from the blow he had taken to the head earlier or the blood loss from the wound in his side. What was going on here? Was Ron really the one who could save Hermione? 'Is he really the one she fancies?' Harry asked himself, not for the first time. "No," he replied simply, his voice sounding slightly hoarse to his own ears. "I won't leave until I'm sure Hermione's alright. I can't go back without her."
Harry had never seen Ron look so angry. The venom in his glare was something he had seen on Malfoy's face before, but which he never expected to see in the eyes of his best friend. As Ron thrust his sword in the general direction of Harry's skull, he was relieved to discover that the shield with the word 'KNOWLEDGE' on it blocked the blow rather admirably once again.
Just as before, Harry found himself in another one of Hermione's memories. He was in a room that he'd never been in before, yet it seemed intimately familiar somehow. There was a large shelf full of books along one of the walls and a double bed rested in the corner with a light blue and gray checkered comforter draped over it. 'This must be Hermione's bedroom,' Harry thought. Before he could have further thoughts about what being in Hermione's room might mean, he was interrupted by a slightly familiar female voice over his shoulder. "Did you get him home alright?"
Harry felt Hermione's head nod. "Yes," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "No problems at all." Her tone gave the lie to that sentence.
The older woman's voice spoke her name but Hermione's cut in sharply before she could say anything soothing. "Don't! Don't tell me that he's sorry, Mum! He isn't; not really. And don't tell me that he's only worried about me, because I know that. It doesn't change anything." Hermione sat on her bed and then let her head hit the pillow. Her eyes faced the blank wall and Harry wondered idly why Hermione hadn't put anything up there: a poster of her favourite band or at the very least a little book shelf. It looked so empty and lifeless...
"Dad doesn't know," Hermione said aloud, her voice so soft that Harry wasn't sure she meant for anyone else to hear. "He doesn't know how much hurting Harry hurts me, too. I suppose...I guess he can't know." 'This must have been the night I had dinner with the Grangers,' Harry realized. 'I wouldn't have done that again for anything.'
"I think I do," Mrs. Granger said, the strangled sound of her voice making it clear she was holding back tears. "You love him, don't you?"
"I...I fancy Ron," Hermione said with a fake half-chuckle, as if her mother's words were ridiculous. Harry felt his heart tear open.
"Ron?" Mrs. Granger asked incredulously. "The other boy who you hang around with all of the time? The one who you never talk about? The one whose opinion you don't obsess over? The one who you didn't rush off in the middle of our family ski trip that we planned for months to go see? That Ron?" Hermione found herself nodding slowly. Her mother squeezed her hand tightly. "Hermione, you can lie to me. I'm the mother of a teenager; I almost expect it. But never lie to yourself."
"Ginny still fancies you, you know," Ron declared, his tone now vicious. Harry felt disoriented for a moment by the scene change, but steadied himself almost instantly. "Couldn't say why. The whole Boy-Who-Lived mystique, I reckon. Don't know why you couldn't have returned her feelings. Would have made it easier on all of us."
"Yes, I'm sure it would have," Harry replied sarcastically. "Sorry I couldn't be more obliging. I guess I just don't find schoolgirl crushes very appealing."
Ron's sword was now pointed at Harry's chest. He weakly held his shield up, hoping he looked ready for another attempted blow, although he certainly didn't feel it. "You're the most incredibly selfish git in the world, you know that?" Ron spat. "I don't expect you to care about how I feel, but have you even thought about what's best for her? In case you haven't noticed, danger seems to follow you around and get the people you care about killed. Hermione wouldn't even be here now if it weren't for you!" The truth of his words violently slammed into Harry and he began to wobble a bit, his weary body showing signs of fatigue.
"I...I didn't mean to..." Harry retorted feebly. His eyes were losing focus quickly and the lids above them were suddenly so heavy...
"Yeah, you never mean to," Ron snarled in response. "Best of intentions and all that. Doesn't much matter in the end, though, does it? Lives are still put in danger because of you. Is a bit of snogging with Hermione really worth her life?" What Ron was saying was starting to make a strange sort of sense, and Harry was feeling very sleepy, if only he could rest just for a little while, sleep sounded so good right now...
Harry abruptly found himself looking wide-eyed at Ron, although in a new set of surroundings: at the Burrow, in Ron's room. He watched with almost morbid fascination as Ron sat down on his bed, his legs managing to dangle over the edge despite his height. "What's this all about, Hermione?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in a curious expression.
Where was he now? And when? Could this have only been a few days ago, on his birthday? The conversation between the two of them that he had been dying to hear at the time? How far away that seemed now. Harry wanted to run away, but realized that he was trapped inside Hermione's memory as surely as if he were in a pensieve. He would be forced to watch as they...what? Confessed their feelings to each other? Would they actually snog?
"I need to talk to you," Hermione said, her eyes watching her hands carefully as she interwove her fingers together. "I need to ask you out."
"Ask me out?" Ron repeated dumbly. "You mean on a date?"
"Yes." Her voice was shaky yet determined. "I think we should go to Hogsmeade."
"What!" Ron's surprised voice came back. "Hermione, we aren't even back at Hogwarts yet. The first Hogsmeade trip won't be for months! And that's even if we get one, on account of Death Eaters and a certain very dark wizard who everyone knows is back now, including my prat of an older brother." Ron's disgust at the thought of Percy Weasley was evident. "Are you sure you've thought this through, Hermione?"
Hermione shook her head up and down, her eyes still not meeting Ron's. "Oh yes. I've taken everything into consideration. I even talked to Harry about it."
"You talked to Harry?" Ron asked, a little surprised. Did he like repeating everything she had just said as if it were the most puzzling thing he'd ever heard? "And he was fine with it?"
"Sure," Hermione answered softly. Well, so much for the thought that Hermione understood him. Harry was so completely not fine with the two of them dating that it should have been obvious to anyone who knew him even casually. Except for the little fact that he was desperately trying to hide this information from everyone.
"Alright," Ron said, slapping his hands against his knees as he stood and began walking across his room. "So you've thought this out. Let me see if this scenario sounds about right. We go to Hogsmeade. On the way there, we bicker for fifteen minutes about what we're going to do before we finally decide to go to Madame Puddifoot's, just like every other couple does, even though neither of us really wants to. You complain about the decor while I look awkward and nervous. Then I complain about your latest diatribe on something stupid like house elf rights, at which time you come back with..."
"House elf rights aren't stupid, Ronald," Hermione replied almost automatically.
"Perfect," Ron said, his arm pumping enthusiastically. "Then we both complain about the latest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who you just know is going to be some sort of dangerous maniac, but that won't take more than a few minutes. By the time our drinks arrive, we'll inevitably be stuck talking about the only thing we really have in common: Harry. 'Can you believe Harry said this?' 'Were you there when Harry did that?' 'What else could possibly happen to Harry this week, after that incident with Peeves, Filch's cat and Snape's cauldron full of Sleeping Draught?'"
"That's just silly, Ron," Hermione replied, finally meeting his gaze. "We have other things in common besides Harry's friendship."
One of Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Oh yeah? Name one."
Hermione became very flustered all of a sudden when she realized that she couldn't. It wasn't often that Hermione didn't have the answer and she really didn't like the idea that Ron had been the one to stump her. "If you didn't want to go out with me, you could have just said 'no'. You didn't have to be so...so..." She struggled for the right word.
"What? Honest?" Ron shrugged. "No point in deceiving ourselves now, is there? Especially now." He moved closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You're not thick, Hermione. You know I want to go out with you. I have for over a year now. I'm sure that probably made it onto your checklist somewhere, when you were 'taking everything into consideration'. Fear of rejection would be right out." Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. The expression didn't sit well on his face. "Tell me something. How did Harry really react when you told him you were going to ask me out on a date?"
"He called you 'Don'," Hermione noted with a small smile. "And said he hoped we would be really 'together happy'." Well, sure. It sounded bad if you took it out of context like that.
Ron smiled back, but his eyes seemed cold somehow. "You should really tell him, you know?"
The nervous fluttering of Hermione's heart turned into a steady pounding. "Tell him what?"
Ron looked away from her, his voice squeaking slightly. "That you're in love with him."
Harry was suddenly wide awake. His slumping shoulders rose and his right arm now bore the weight of the sword in his hand almost effortlessly. "You're not Ron," he declared, his voice hard and even.
"W...what?" Ron stammered. "Who do you think I am, Malfoy on polyjuice? Of course I'm Ron, you wanker!" His anxious voice began to break, and Harry wasn't buying the act anymore.
"Ron would trust me to save Hermione," Harry declared as he moved aggressively towards the red-haired impostor. "Ron wouldn't have been able to see us kissing under the invisibility cloak. And I don't think the real Ron would have ever used the phrase '"Boy-Who-Lived" mystique'."
"Mad-Eye Moody," Ron explained, although his face now clearly showed apprehension. "He can see through the invisibility cloak. He told me..."
Harry shook his head. "You said it was Tonks and Lupin who were following us around, not Moody. And you're not Ron." And at that, Ron disappeared, leaving only a stone with the word 'DOUBT' written on it. Harry picked it up and then let it fall from his hand. "But even if you had been, I would have won anyway."
Harry quietly approached Hermione's prone form, her breathing slow and erratic. What was he supposed to do now? If this were a fairy tale, he supposed he would simply kiss her and she would awake. But this wasn't a fairy tale. This was real life. Well, actually it was the inside of Hermione's mind. The same principle applied, though.
"Hermione," he whispered, hoping she had once again left him some clue as to how to get through this. He wasn't sure he could take much more of watching her so helpless, so vulnerable... "You've got to wake up," Harry insisted, his hands running along the side of her arms and eventually finding their way into her own. "You have to. I couldn't bear it if you died because of... I couldn't take it if you died."
Her eyes opened wide and she breathed in sharply, startling Harry. "Hermione?" he asked tentatively.
"Harry," she answered back, the word seeming to answer all of his questions and erase his doubts. His eyes searched hers and a smile crossed their faces simultaneously. Their words were nervous, hurried and unnecessary. "Are you...?" "I'm fine. Where are we?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
His hands hadn't left hers and neither of them made a move to break away. "Was there something I did that... that brought you back?" Harry asked tentatively. "I wasn't quite sure how to wake you and...I suppose I must have done something right, but I don't know what..."
"You're here, Harry," Hermione answered, adoration glowing in her eyes. "That was all it took. That's all it ever takes." Harry very much wanted to kiss her just then, but she put her finger on his lips to stop him. "Harry..."
"What?" he asked, confused.
"I think we're waking up."