A/N: I realize the original requester probably was thinking something smutty but it's going in a whole different direction. So, having said that, it's rated T for Ron's filthy mouth, adult situations, and Hermione in her knickers. NO smut and no nudity. - DG

Bloody fucking cold.

It wasn't warm outside, either. Sodding Bloody January in the middle of no-fuck-where I am and I'm stuck on watch. Harry wandered out to look for more wood for a fire that didn't need it but it was either stay out here, on watch, outside the bloody tent and away from Hermione's fit of temper or in there and have to put up with that heart-breaking look on her face.

Where did I get the bloody idea that I'd be welcome back? Sure, Harry told me that they weren't that way with one another. I believed the bloke. But then she nearly beat my head in when I returned then won't even stay in the bloody tent when I'm awake.

That look on her face tore me up. How can you be forgiven for what I did? Why should she forgive me?

Harry told me that when I was gone they barely talked. He admitted that there were days, weeks even, when she'd put on some brave front, but he'd hear her, just outside the tent, on a crying jag. But she's his sister. She never turned his head and I'd bet that it's more than just boosting my fragile ego.

I don't deserve her. I don't deserve him. But I'm here.

The whole damn thing is mental.

You'd think anyone being that beastly when I returned, even after saving that speccy git's life wouldn't be so damn violent. Then again, she did attack me with magical canaries when I cocked things up last year with Lavender.

Why did I expect anything less? I bloody walked out on them. Completely mental that Harry forgave me.

I should sit out here 'til next winter. Bout all I deserve.

"Hey, come in. It's too cold outside to stay out here."

"You go on in. I'm tired of freezing in there. I rather freeze out here."

"You're mad. Come in. She'll get over it sometime."

"Fuck, Harry. It's been a bloody fortnight."

"And it's Hermione. You know she holds a grudge until she can work it out, just like you do."

"I don't," I protested.

"Bollocks. You rowed with me before leaving, even as she begged you to stay."

"Thanks for reminding me. Want me to obliviate myself of that moment in my pathetic existence?"

"No, you git. I'm saying that she gets mad and has to work it out, just like you do. She didn't talk to you for months last year because you went and got yourself in a spot of bother with Lavender because you were in a bloody strop."

"Brilliant idea that was," I grumbled morbidly. "You think we can not talk about Lavender and all the mess I made?"

"Fine, but you're still coming in with me. The worst she will do is conjure some baby dragons to attack you, I reckon. But since she's not done that yet, she might just keep up the cold shoulder."

"I'd rather her conjure baby dragons. At least I'd know how to deal with them. I dunno how to deal with a Hermione that hates me, even if she's right."

"She doesn't hate you," Harry gave me a look. "If she hated you, she'd have just looked at you and went about her business. She didn't."

"You think?"

"I spent many a night out here because I couldn't cope with her crying. She wasn't crying about me."

"Shite."

"Now come in. If she's still quiet, I'll pull out the chess set."

"You're pants at chess, Harry."

"Would you rather beat me at chess or be ignored by Hermione?"

"Hate when you're right," I complained. Damn, my arse was cold from the frozen ground and I think my bollocks took up residence inside my stomach. But I followed that smarmy git inside the tent. He went to the cooker for a kettle of tea for all of us.

I shed my jacket and peeled off my second jumper and when I opened my eyes I looked into the loo. "The bloody hell?" I gazed towards the corner of the tent where the miniscule bathroom was and Fuck! My tongue hit the roof of my mouth and something else was taking notice, too.

The girl I'd fancied for years was standing just inside the curtain of the loo, obviously forgetting to close the drapes.

She was standing there in her knickers and bra.

Damn. Sprout in a bikini. Mum in a Bikini. Damn. Snape in his pants. Me in my pants. Spiders wearing pants.

Harry turned and saw her too. "Merlin, again?" Harry groaned and turned back to the cooker for the kettle. "I didn't need to see that," Harry grumbled. "Close the damn curtains."

Merlin, I can't move. It's Hermione but she looks nothing like I guess how she looked under her robes. I know the turn of her calf and small indentations at her hips, above the waistband of her skirt. I know that soft curve of her collarbone and that small freckle behind her right ear that she shows when she moves her hair while swotting.

But fuck! Hermione looks nothing like I know her. She looks thin, thinner than I ever knew her. She's painfully thin, like after I had my last growth spurt and Mum had to find some of Percy's old trousers to fit me. The soft curves of her hips I knew she had last summer disappeared and the expanse of back that had me wanking was gone, replaced by the outline of her backbone. The figure she had when she'd come early to the house, before we retrieved Harry was completely gone.

She looks terrible. This Hermione was nothing but skin and bones, as Mum would say.

She could do with a month's worth of meals. Hell, maybe three months.

"Ron, stop that," Harry hissed.

I took a step aside but continued to watch Hermione. "Did you know she was that thin?"

"Yeah. Isn't she always?"

"No, you git. She looks sick."

Harry pulled the kettle off the stove top and pulled some tea leaves from the container next to the stove. "If she is, she's not said anything to me."

"You said you barely talked while I was gone."

"Well, yeah, I did."

I stuck my head back out, past the fabric wall, and saw her in the mirror while she brushed out her hair. Her face looked thin, too, with her cheekbones sticking out and her lips cracked. Deep bruises marred her eyes, too.

"Did you get to hit up some grocers while I was gone?" I kept staring at her while she wasn't watching. "Hot meal at a pub?"

"It's not like we could hit a pub to eat every night. We couldn't risk running into snatchers. Those times when we did have a decent meal, she ate a little but left the most for me. I asked one time and she said she wasn't hungry."

"You prat. No wonder why she looks death warmed over."

"Don't blame me for her not eating."

"I'm not. I'm saying she looks sick."

"I wouldn't know. I don't have a basis of comparison."

"Surely you looked once!"

"No, I didn't. I don't look at Hermione that way."

I stuck my head out again and saw Hermione brushing her teeth. Her skin was very pale, after having lost last summer's tan. Every bone in her back showed, along with her arm. She stood up and I bit my tongue and thought revolting things again. She was wearing a faded pink bra and her rib bones stuck out from her chest.

It looked like it didn't fit her right which didn't make sense. I know girls wear their undergarments to fit. I listened to Lavender just enough to know that. I got to see it quite often, the bint. But Hermione looked like she'd borrowed one of Ginny's and it hung in the wrong ways in the wrong places. It looked like it was worn out and two sizes too big on her. But I know that's not right either.

"We need to get Hermione to eat." I saw that we had a little bit to make a meal. "Hermione looks wretched."

"And how do we do that without getting caught, Ron?"

"Fuck if I know but if you're hungry and I'm hungry, and you say that Hermione isn't eating much, then we have a problem."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Harry poured out two cups of tea, keeping the rest warm for Hermione.

"If she falls over dead from starvation, you git, we're fucked."

"She'd say if she was hungry, you prat. She's not said a thing."

"She'd not tell you. She'd bleed out first than complain to you about anything bothering her. You know that!"

"No, I don't."

"Are you really that thick?" I glared at my best mate for being that stupid.

"Harry, did you make tea?" a softer voice came from across the tent.

"Yeah, Hermione. I did. I've got some for you when you're done in the loo."

"I'll be out in a minute."

"See?" Harry hissed. "She's fine. She'd tell me if something was wrong."

"And you're a git. She's not fine."

I took my cup and sat down at the table, knowing she'd refuse to acknowledge me. But this time, I wanted to observe and not talk. She'd do exactly like I want right now.

She walked out a minute later, bundled up in boots, jeans, two jumpers and a huge scarf with a knit hat. Under her attire, she looked normal. But I also saw that she was hiding the shadows I saw under her eyes five minutes ago, probably with charms, and had put gloves on, hiding her fingers. I'm glad she ignored me this time.

"Thanks, Harry."

"I'll take watch." I finished my cup and glared at Harry before going back to my bunk to get my jacket and wand. I had a ton to think about between now and in the morning.

"But Ron?"

Of course Hermione would ask Harry and not me. But then I know she'll talk to me eventually – maybe when Hell freezes over outside. Only question I'd have is will I survive the freeze that long.

I didn't look at the other two but finished bundling up for the cold night. At least my warming charms would save my bollocks again.

But fuck all I couldn't let her see I was upset at both of them. Harry's a selfish twat, especially for not looking after Hermione. I'm pissed that he didn't notice that she wasn't eating and ignoring her shrinking away.

I can't let Hermione know I'm mad at her for not taking care of herself.

I walked back outside and sat down on the cushion at the opening of the tent, trying to find a reasonably comfortable place that didn't irritate my arse. I wiggled and found a reasonably comfortable spot.

If I'm honest, I know she's not eating because she was sick with worry, about me. It stings something fierce to know that it's all my fault. A Firecrab sting would hurt less.

Merlin, this whole damn thing is completely mental.

I have to do something about it. Since Harry's pants at taking care of them, I better do it.

If I don't, I might have two best friends who can't save anyone, not even themselves.

I blew out a deep breath, watching it freeze in front of my face.

Yes. Sod all but I can take care of them. That's what I will do. I'll look after them, and make sure they live through this hell.