Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hello, everyone! Hope you're all doing well … I'm … stalling, quite honestly. The last exam of my university career is on Monday and my motivation is a ZERO. Which, I suppose, is good news for you, given it means I wrote a chapter AND I finally figured out how the story is going to continue so stay tuned! Thanks, as always, for your amazing support and please enjoy =)

Hermione was engrossed in her book for most of the morning and didn't go back into the tent until close to midday. She immediately regretted this decision, given the state of Harry and Ron when she walked in. Harry had stretched out over his bed and the young witch could see the sweat circles under his arms and around his neck. The compress had been thrown off during his tossing and turning and even now, his head was rolling back from side to side in the throes of a fever.

Ron was still asleep but Hermione could hear the rattle that had settled into his chest – his breathing was ragged and laboured and he, too, shone with sweat.

Hermione put her book down and rushed to Harry's side.

"Harry?" she asked, shaking his shoulder. "Harry, wake up."

"Leave me 'lone, 'Mione," Harry muttered.

"Harry, wake up." Hermione insisted and after a moment, Harry blearily opened his eyes. They were bright with fever, the green far more piercing than Hermione ever remembered seeing it.

"You need to drink," she said, summoning the tumbler from the table and filling it with water. She slid a hand under Harry's head and supported him as he sipped the water. After only three sips, Harry turned his head away out of exhaustion.

"Come on, Harry, you need to drink more than this. You're burning up."

Harry didn't respond and Hermione sighed, lowering his head again.

"How's your breathing?"

Though better than Ron, Hermione had detected a slight roughness in Harry's breath as well.

"Fine."

Harry knew this was a lie but Hermione looked so scared – that he was able to see through his fevered gaze – and he didn't want to worry her.

"Are you coughing up anything?"

Harry nodded, eyes slipping closed again. Hermione looked around and retrieved one of her pillows, coming back to the lower bunk.

"Can you sit up for a minute?" she asked gently. With great effort that caused Harry's face to pale even further, Hermione plumped up the two pillows and eased Harry back onto them so his head was elevated somewhat.

"Better?"

Harry nodded.

"Better."

Hermione remoistened the cloth and fixed it on Harry's head.

"Go back to sleep," she said, standing. Hermione laid a hand on Ron's cheek before waking him up like she had Harry. His fever wasn't as bad but the moment he was awake, his body was wracked in a coughing fit and he struggled for air.

This time he actually did vomit, though Hermione was aware of this possibility and had the bin ready.

"You're alright," Hermione said soothingly. "Done?"

Ron, who was hunched over the basin in his lap, nodded. Hermione cleared away the sick with a simple Tergio spell and then eased Ron onto a stack of pillows and rolled up blankets and jumpers. She got him a glass of water, watching his hand shake as he sipped it.

"Thanks." He whispered, his voice practically non-existent in the wake of his vomiting spree. Hermione didn't reply but stretched up a hand to his forehead.

"You're burning up, too," she said with a sigh. "The medicine isn't doing anything to help."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

Hermione turned back to the table and found the thermometer. Having had cleaned it after its last user, she put it into Ron's mouth rather unceremoniously. Ron winced but (wisely) didn't say anything. His eyes slipped closed as he pulled his blankets up – his skin was covered in goose-flesh.

Hermione watched this with concern and, gently this time, removed the thermometer and sighed when she saw the number. Ron was already dozing again though his breathing was far from deep or steady. The young witch went to the kitchen and filled a basin with cool water and after transfiguring an old ball of yarn (apparently Mr. or Mrs. Perkins had had an affinity for knitting) into a sponge, carefully carried the bowl to Ron's bunk.

It wasn't the most comfortable position but Hermione was standing on a chair, the basin of water resting on the bed in front of her in good faith that Ron wouldn't flail his arms. She wrung out the sponge and began pressing it to his neck and face. Ron had jumped at first contact but soon settled and Hermione could tell he was relaxing and therefore falling into a deeper sleep.

She sighed.

"I don't know what to do for you," she whispered, turning the sponge over and pressing it to Ron's forehead. Ron did not reply, merely squirmed uncomfortably while his eyes remained closed.

Hermione sighed and dipped her sponge into the basin again before wiping it over Ron's cheek and moving down his neck.

"And I don't want to be mad at you," she continued, her eyes and hands focused on her task. "But I am. How could you leave? Don't you care?"

She sighed again.

"Of course you care. I know you do. You just got fed up is all … but why did you have to be so … so … definitive about it? Do you have any idea how many nights I laid awake and thought about you or wondered where you were, if you were safe? All of a sudden, I was the one listening to the radio, afraid I would hear your name. I don't know what I would do if you were killed or sent to Azkaban."

Hermione was surprised to hear herself say these things. She knew she'd been angry but vocalizing it made her emotions sound strange. She liked to consider herself a witch who was in control of her emotions and had priorities but here she was, babbling on and on at the bedside of the boy-now-man she had grown to love.

"I hate how you do this to me," Hermione muttered. "All of it."

Ron let out a low groan and Hermione sighed.

"That about sums it up," she said, pressing the sponge to his forehead firmly.

From down below, Harry's eyes roamed the bottom of the upper bunk. He must be hallucinating, he must be. Hermione didn't just say all of that … did she? Harry had known for a while now that his two best friends had formed a special, deeper bond but this did not sound like the Hermione he knew. How had this happened? Hermione was so level-headed and now she sounded like … well, a lot like a girl. Harry's thoughts wandered to Ginny … did she feel this way about how Harry had left her? Was she worried about him?

Harry was sure that she was … the kiss they had shared for his birthday told him that she felt about him the same way he felt about her. It was only natural that she would be worried about him, not knowing where he was or if he was even alive. Harry closed his eyes and imagined that instead of Hermione, Ginny was the one leaning over his bed. Her hands were delicate as they sponged down his forehead and pushed back his damp hair.

"Shhh," she soothed as he opened his mouth to speak. "It's alright. Go back to sleep."

Her sentence echoed in his mind as Harry felt his heart ache for the girl he loved and, out of duty to her, he let his eyes slide closed and was soon fast asleep again.

When Harry next woke up, he no longer saw Hermione's stocking feet on the chair. He blinked and put his glasses on, searching the tent for the bushy-haired girl.

"'Mione?" he croaked.

He heard the splashing of water and a moment later, Hermione came from the bathroom with a small washcloth in her hand.

"Harry," she said, coming over. "How are you feeling?"

Harry relaxed when he saw her and leaned back against his pillows.

"Exhausted," he answered. "And sore."

He swallowed and winced as it stung. Hermione tested his fever with the back of her hand.

"Your fever's about the same, I think," she said. "Headache?"

Harry nodded as Hermione searched out the thermometer.

"My eyes hurt," he said. "And my ears."

Hermione frowned as she waved her wand at the device to clean it before holding it out to Harry.

"That's not good," she said with a sigh. "Your eyes are probably sore because you're sleeping so much but your ears … that worries me."

Harry nodded in response, given he couldn't speak. Hermione had been right about the fever – it was the same as it was last time.

"What time is it, anyways?" Harry asked.

"Ten thirty." Hermione answered. "I was getting ready to go to bed."

"Don't let me stop you."

"It's alright," Hermione replied with a rare smile. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

Harry's stomach did an odd flip-flop at the mention of food.

"Nothing to eat," he said quickly. "But I'll have some water, if there is any."

"Of course," Hermione said just as quickly. She found a tumbler and filled it with water before handing it to Harry. He sat up and took it.

"One second," Hermione said, turning away again. Harry heard the pill bottle rattle and accepted the two paracetamol from her, swallowing them along with the water. He handed her the cup before throwing off the covers and swinging his feet off the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to the loo." Harry replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh." Hermione said, blushing. She stepped aside and watched Harry walk unsteadily to the bathroom before sighing. She glanced up at Ron again. At least he had fallen asleep soundly and, though he was snoring, he wasn't as restless. The compress she had placed on his brow was still in place, at least. Hermione turned her head as the bathroom door clicked open and Harry re-emerged. The simple action had worn him out and he collapsed as gingerly as he could onto his bed (and even this made him hurt), not protesting as Hermione pulled the covers up around him.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"When will we get better?"

It was a juvenile question, he knew it was, but his eyes were already closed and Hermione couldn't help but feel it was at least partially driven by his exhaustion.

"Soon," she said, gently taking his glasses off. "Really soon."

She didn't need to tell Harry to go to sleep and by the time she had finished in the bathroom, both of her friends were sleeping. With a sigh, she crawled under her blankets and bunched them near her head (she'd given them all her pillows).

Hermione pointed her wand at the light hanging from the ceiling and although it dimmed, Hermione laid there staring at the bunk beds opposite for a long time before she relaxed enough to fall asleep.

I hope that was up to your expectation … thanks to the anonymous reviewer who suggested they be sitting up – it is a very valid point! Please review =)