Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hello, friends! I'm beginning to feel like a broken record here but I always feel so bad for never updating on a regular basis so I'm very sorry! It doesn't seem fair – you are all so lovely to me in reviews and readership and I never return the favour. Regardless, know that you are highly valued and appreciated! In attempts to make up for it, there's a chapter of Frozen and a chapter of Christmas in the Highlands going up AT THE SAME TIME. Please accept this as my apology and enjoy reading!

After Hermione left for St. Mungo's, Harry tried to fall asleep. He felt weak and slightly nauseated but he couldn't calm down. He constantly thought about could possibly go wrong with their plan. As minutes turned into hours, Harry dozed off but was woken by Ron shaking his shoulder jerkily.

"What? What's wrong?" Harry exclaimed, his heart pounding. He sat up and Ron's flushed face came into focus as he put his glasses on.

"Hermione!" Ron said. "She's gone. I can't find her."

Ron looked awful. Asides from the flushed cheeks, his hair was tinged with sweat and his eyes were bright and slightly manic-looking. Harry saw Ron's knees shaking from the force of holding his body upright.

"Sit down before you keel over," Harry said, motioning to the chair still by his bedside.

"But Hermione!" Ron protested weakly, though he sat willingly.

"Calm down." Harry said firmly. "Hermione went to get medicine."

"Is she crazy?!"

"That's what I said, too," replied Harry. "But she insisted."

Harry shared with Ron what Hermione had told him before glancing at his watch. It was ten past three.

"She's been gone for over five hours," he noted, slightly surprised that much time had passed. He must've fallen into a deeper sleep than he thought. "She should be back any time. How are you feeling?"

Ron groaned.

"I'd rather be dead than feel like this for much longer."

"Are you hungry?"

"No." Ron's answer was immediate and firm.

"Are you still queasy?"

"Not as bad as before. I just feel restless and uncomfortable."

"It's the fever," Harry said. "I feel the same way."

Ron glanced at his friend, almost as if he just remembered Harry was also ill.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. Hazy, I guess. Nothing is really coherent."

"I know what you mean. How many days has it been?"

"Two … no, three." Harry corrected. "Three days."

"That's it?" Ron asked. "It feels like it's been ages, though I can't remember most of what's happened. When did Hermione leave?"

"This morning," Harry said, a sly smile on his face and his eyebrow went up. "She kissed you goodbye."

"She did?" Ron exclaimed, prompting a coughing fit. He managed to catch his breath before vomiting, for which Harry was infinitely grateful, and looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"She did?" he repeated and Harry nodded.

"She's worried about you."

"She doesn't need to be. I'll be fine."

Harry sighed, pulling his pillow close and lying on his side.

"I know but it's Hermione. She worries about both of us, though I reckon it's not the same."

The position made it difficult for Harry to breathe and he turned onto his back and used the pillows to prop his head up.

"Why not?" Ron asked and Harry studied the underside of the bunk above him. He was quiet for so long that Ron added, "Harry?"

"Remember what I said about Hermione and me when you destroyed the locket? That we were like brother and sister?"

Ron nodded.

"That's still true but I think," he paused, unsure if he could put his feelings into words. He and Ron had never discussed how Ron felt about Hermione and what Harry thought was based purely on observation and intuition.

"I think that she loves you."

Ron's face broke into a smile and his cheeks flushed visibly, even on top of the fever. Harry didn't make eye contact and continued.

"She treats you differently than she treats me."

"Come off it," said Ron at once. "She'd die for you. We both would."

"I know," Harry replied. "But that's not what I mean. I've seen it a few times since we've been ill. Like the other night. You were practically unconscious and Hermione was standing on the chair. I think she was sponging you down or something and she was talking to you."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed.

"You mentioned this to me yesterday, didn't you?"

Harry nodded.

"She was talking about how scared she was when you were gone and how much she missed you. She didn't know that I was awake but I can assure you that she's never said those things about me, nor will she."

"Of course she would." Ron retorted. "You said yourself you're like her brother. She'd be worried if you took off like I did."

"Okay," Harry said. "She'd say those things given the right circumstances but certainly not in that tone of voice. But just this morning, when she was getting ready to leave, she sat on the edge of your bed and stroked your hair before kissing you goodbye."

Ron's blush was still visible and creeping up his neck, giving him the appearance of a carrot-topped tomato.

"I'm not jealous," Harry added just to reassure his friend. "But it's strange watching my two best friends fall in love with each other."

"Is that what we're doing?" Ron asked. "I haven't been sure. We seem to fight all the time, it hardly sounds like love."

"Take it from someone who has known both of you for eight years and has been sharing the same tent with you for the past eight months, you two are head over heels in love with one another. I can tell by the way she looks at you."

Harry was reminded of a conversation he and Hermione had one evening at Hogwarts after a successful Quidditch game. Coincidentally, it was the same day Ron had begun snogging Lavender Brown.

"What does it feel like?" Hermione's voice echoed in Harry's mind. "I see the way you look at her."

"It feels like this," Harry's mind replied but the words felt too empty to be relevant. His heart was aching more than ever for Ginny. Back then he and Hermione had friends, classes, and Quidditch to keep them occupied while Ron dated Lavender and Ginny went with Dean. But now Harry was losing his best friends to each other and he felt utterly alone even though he knew he wasn't.

"Don't worry too much about it, Harry," Ron said quietly, as though he could read Harry's mind. "Hermione and I would never do anything to leave you alone in this. We're here to help you."

"I know," Harry replied, though Ron's words weren't very comforting. What he really wanted right now was comfort that only one person could give and she wasn't here. He sighed again.

"You should go back to bed."

It was an awkward transition but it effectively ended the conversation. The emotions and sentiment were pushing their limits and Ron seemed to agree because he stood up quickly. He swayed for a moment and used the bunk above Harry to steady himself.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "I'll be fine."

Harry didn't get up and Ron stumbled away from the bed and detoured into the bathroom. Harry heard his friend vomit but remained where he was. Ron could take care of himself for now and besides, Harry had no inclination to start vomiting himself. His stomach gave a slight growl that prompted Harry to roll over and put a pillow over his head to muffle the noise.

He hoped Hermione returned soon.

Hermione was still sitting where she knew the tent was supposed to be and started shivering as the wind blew snow in her face and her tears froze on her cheeks. How could she have been so foolish? They should have made some sort of arrangement in case something went wrong and Hermione couldn't get back to Harry and Ron. Her mind, ever logical, was telling her to get a hold of herself but she was shaking uncontrollably. Harry had been right; as far as the Ministry was concerned, she was Undesirable No. 2 and she knew that the moment the blizzard wore down, there'd be snatchers looking in these woods. Fear welled up in Hermione as she realized she couldn't stay here.

It was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done, except maybe wiping her parent's memories. Pulling out the invisibility cloak, Hermione put it on and with a final glance around, spun on the spot and disapparated.

Outside, the sky grew darker and Harry felt the temperature dropping. He began checking his watch with increased regularity and Ron's restlessness told Harry he was also aware Hermione had been gone longer than she should have been.

"Ron?" Harry asked at six o'clock.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think we should go to St. Mungo's and look for her?"

"How?" Ron asked, propping himself up on his elbow so he could see Harry's worried face. "Hermione took the cloak and the Polyjuice Potion. Besides, going to London would practically be inviting You-Know-Who to kill you."

"I know," Harry said. "But we can't just leave. If she hasn't come back yet it means something has happened. I shouldn't have let her go."

Harry was truly regretting his passive agreement to let Hermione go to St. Mungo's.

"So why did you?" Ron snapped.

"Because she'd go whether I agreed or not," Harry snapped back, annoyed that Ron was questioning his decision. "So I thought it best to at least know what she was doing."

Ron huffed but spoke a minute later.

"I can look for her."

Harry sat up far too quickly, causing an intense pain in his head.

"Are you insane?!" he practically shouted. "We've already lost Hermione and I can't lose you again."

He winced slightly at how pathetic his words sounded but it was true. Ron's leaving had hurt Harry as much as it had hurt Hermione. He didn't think he could stand it if Ron was to leave again.

"I can't just ignore the fact she's gone!" Ron exclaimed just as loudly. "I'm a pure blood wizard, they won't hurt me."

"No, they'll just torture you like they did Neville's parents!" Harry replied angrily. "Don't think that having a wizard family tree will save you, mate. The Ministry isn't happy with your family."

"I don't care what they'd do to me!" Ron yelled. "I can't let anything happen to her!"

His voice broke at the end and he lunged for the basin Hermione had left near his bed. Harry turned his head while Ron was sick, silently calling Ron rude names.

"Harry," Ron whispered in a raspy voice.

"What?"

"I can't lose her again."

Harry looked at Ron and saw, to his surprise and slight horror, Ron's eyes filling with tears.

"Ron."

Harry didn't know what else to say but he got out of bed and moved the basin from Ron's lap, cleaning it instantly. Ron's tears had disappeared up but there was still an awkward air hanging between them.

"I want to go." Ron said, breaking the silence but increasing the tension.

"It won't do any good," he said. "If Hermione was caught, she won't be at St. Mungo's anymore."

He couldn't bring himself to admit that she may already be dead or was being cruelly tortured, perhaps even by the Dark Lord himself.

"Besides, you're still ill. If you go to St. Mungo's looking like that, they'll have you admitted so fast you won't have time to look for Hermione."

"But we can't just sit here!"

Harry walked back to his bed.

"We'll wait till midnight. If there's no sign of her, then we'll start making plans to go to St. Mungo's ourselves."

"No, not you. You're Undesirable - "

"I know." Harry interrupted. "But there is no way you're going alone. She's my friend too and I'm the reason we're in this bloody mess to begin with."

Ron bit his lip and finally nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Midnight."

Hermione appeared on a desolate cliff from which she could see the water. She was near Bridlington, on the eastern coast of England. Like the Forest of Dean, she'd come here once with her parents. Numbly, Hermione found a small, secluded inlet in the rocky cliff and did her protective spells and enchantments before sitting down, hugging her knees close to her chest. She had nothing apart from her bag, which contained all the potions her friends needed, her wand, and the invisibility cloak.

She felt utterly alone and scared. Despite her best intentions, tears welled in her eyes as she fought to remain in control and come up with a plan. She needed to let Harry and Ron know where she was but how? It was too risky to apparate back to the Forest of Dean and wait for them to leave the shelter of the spells. She could be seen – even with the invisibility cloak there was a huge risk – and Harry and Ron were ill. They shouldn't be wandering around the forest, anyways. She needed a definitive way to get word to them.

An owl might work but Hermione wasn't sure how her spells would affect magical creatures. The owl might not be able to find them and she knew the Ministry was always intercepting owls. No, an owl definitely would not work. Again the DA coins came to mind but Hermione needed something more concrete … something she could guarantee.

In an instant, Kingsley Shacklebolt came to mind. At Bill and Fleur's wedding, Kingsley had sent his patronus to warm them that the Ministry had fallen and that Rufus Scrimgeour was dead. Mr. Weasley had done the same thing when they were at 12 Grimmauld Place to let them know the family was safe.

"Of course!" Hermione said aloud. She had been practicing the talking patronus charm for ages and she was sure she could make it work. Taking a deep breath, Hermione brought up her happiest memories. Images of her days at Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and her parents flooded into her mind and she focused on one specifically. It was Halloween in their first year. Though a mountain troll attacking her in the girls' toilets was not the highlight of the evening, she had made her two best friends that night and nothing had been the same since. Hermione had gone from being a disliked know-it-all to having two amazing friends. There was hardly a better memory than the night she met the two people she loved and cared most about in the world.

"Expecto Patronum!" she cried and a weak otter left the end of her wand. Hermione closed her eyes and focused on making the memory stronger. She smiled as she remembered joining Harry and Ron for breakfast the next morning and the grin Harry had given her. The otter became fuller and its silver fur glistened in the late afternoon sun.

"Take this message to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They're in the tent near the river in the Forest of Dean."

The otter gave a curt nod and Hermione began her message.

"I'm safe. I couldn't find the tent and didn't want to wait in the forest for you to appear. Apparate to …" Hermione paused. Where could she tell them to go that was specific enough that they'd end up at the same place? Hermione looked around for inspiration and saw the lighthouse in the distance. Pleased that she could remember its name, Hermione looked at her expectant patronus.

"Apparate to the car park of Flamborough Head Lighthouse at seven o'clock tomorrow morning." Hermione told the otter. "I'll be waiting for you there."

With a wave of her wand, the otter left her dome of protective spells and became a ball of silver light in the sky. Even though this was complex and advanced magic, Hermione knew it would work. Once the silver ball had disappeared, Hermione nestled against the rocks and watched the ocean. As soon as it was dark she'd move to the base of the lighthouse but for now she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Harry tried to fall asleep in the hours until midnight but he couldn't. His mind was racing about how to find Hermione and what could have happened to her. He started watching the second hand on his watch make its circles, hoping it would lull him to sleep but it didn't. It only made his eyes water and his head ache.

"Ron?" Harry asked at eight o'clock. Ron had remained quiet since their spat and that was fine with Harry. He had no real desire to talk about what had happened but he wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

"Ron?" Harry asked again, glancing at the other bed. He could see Ron's form but his friend still didn't reply.

"Ron?"

There was no way Ron had actually fallen asleep knowing Hermione was missing but he still didn't acknowledge Harry. Harry frowned and, despite being annoyed that his friend was ignoring him, got up slowly and went to Ron's bedside.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, finally understanding the panic Hermione had experienced in the past few days while tending the Weasley. Instantly, Harry knew that Ron was in the midst of another temperature flocculation. His face was beet red and his skin shone with sweat, not to mention his hair and shirt were soaked.

Glancing around, Harry summoned the basin Hermione had been using for water.

"Aguamenti," he muttered and the bowl filled with water. He took the now dry cloth from the table and dipped it in before sloppily placing it against Ron's forehead. The cold beads of water made gooseflesh rise on Harry's arms but earned to response from Ron. Again and again Harry pressed cold cloths against the burning face, neck, and chest. He stripped off the blankets and put cold towels on Ron's legs and under his arms.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said. "Don't do this to me now."

It took almost an hour but finally Ron began responding to Harry's treatment. A low groan escaped his lips and his eyelids fluttered.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, putting down his sponge. "Ron, open your eyes."

"Stop yelling," Ron muttered.

"Open your eyes." Harry repeated and Ron did.

"Turn out the light," Ron complained and Harry dimmed the lights with the deluminator. Only the light nearest Ron's bed remained on.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked and Ron winced.

"Bloody terrible," he muttered. "Everything's loud and bright. My head is killing me."

Harry frowned. He could remember Uncle Vernon having headaches like these. Aunt Petunia would shut the house up tight and make Dudley turn off all his computers and video games – much to his dismay – and she would get mad at him for crying that she had.

"Daddy's got a migraine, sweetums," she'd whisper. "Best if you go to a friend's house to play."

Then she'd call whatever friend Dudley had at the moment and take him there in the car. She'd return and warn Harry not to make a sound before puttering about the bedroom while Uncle Vernon moaned in pain, much like what Ron was doing now.

"It's okay," Harry whispered. "It's just a migraine."

"A what?" Ron croaked, still wincing.

"A migraine," Harry said. "A really severe headache. The cold might have set it off, or the vomiting, or the fever. Anything can be a trigger."

Harry placed the cold cloth over Ron's forehead before moving the small lamp on the table across the room to make it even darker for Ron. Harry didn't know why Ron had been so unresponsive to his calls if he was so sensitive to sound but it didn't matter. His friend was awake now.

"Harry?" Ron's voice was barely audible. "What time is it?"

Harry glanced at his watch.

"Twenty past nine."

"Hermione?"

"Still not back."

Harry sighed and shuffled to his bed, pulling on an extra sweater that he'd been using as a pillow. With everything going on – Ron's constant changing health and Hermione's disappearance – he kept forgetting he was ill himself. Gooseflesh was covering his skin despite the damp sweat he felt on his back and his head was spinning slightly.

"You're in no state to go looking for her," he whispered and Ron nodded feebly.

"Go to sleep." Harry added. "I'm here if you need anything."

Ron's eyes were already closed and he didn't comment as Harry removed towels and replaced blankets. He had just climbed into his own bunk when there was a noise outside. Immediately, Harry grabbed the blackthorn wand and stood. The noise – a whistling sound – grew louder and suddenly the tent was filled with silver light.

Ron moaned loudly as the light met his eyes and it was too much. He leaned over the side of his bed and vomited onto the floor. Harry was less concerned with Ron and with the wand still extended, he studied the patronus. It began to talk and relief filled his entire being when he heard Hermione's voice. He listened closely and barely managed to catch the name of the lighthouse before the otter, which he'd recognized once he'd heard the voice, disappeared. The tent became dark again and Harry rushed to Ron's side. The voice had prompted further vomiting and Ron was pale, shaky, and clammy.

Harry eased his friend back onto his pillows, cleaned the mess, and picked up his sponge again.

"Did you hear?" Harry whispered. "Hermione's alright. We need to apparate tomorrow morning and meet her."

"Good," Ron mumbled, his eyes closed tightly. Harry was quite relieved to hear that Hermione was alright but that worry was quickly replaced by concerns about Ron. He'd never seen his friend so sick before. The cold from jumping into the pond was one thing, and even the vomiting could be accounted for – he hadn't actually thrown up but he was nauseous. The flocculating temperature and the migraine, however, did not seem to fit the pattern. Harry, while pleased he wasn't experiencing these symptoms, felt terrible for Ron, who was being hit by multiple ailments at once. It hardly seemed like a reward for coming back.

Harry sighed, feeling the ache in his chest, as he set about sponging Ron's face and neck again. It seemed to be doing very little aside from letting Ron sleep. Still, Harry figured, some sleep was better than no sleep and it was the least he could do. He wondered vaguely how Ron would cope with apparating – vomiting, Harry was sure, would ensue – but quickly decided not to worry about that until tomorrow.

I can hardly ask for anything more but … review, please?