Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Hey folks! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! I'm really glad you liked Snape and Draco's interaction. Yes, Draco definitely has a lot to think about now, what with Snape's confession and everything he's discovered this year.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

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Ron Weasley knew that not everything was right in his world as he sat down for lunch at the Gryffindor table with Neville and Hermione. He helped himself to the usual delicious food that was laid along the table's length, but his appetite was noticeably not as big as it usually was. The fish and chips the house-elves were serving today were usually right up his alley, but today, his tastebuds weren't enjoying the sensation - he felt more like he was forcing the food down his throat.

Harry. Irritation, worry, compassion, concern, fear - those were all the emotions he currently felt towards his best friend. Harry had been acting so strangely lately. Ever since he'd returned to Gryffindor Tower after being poisoned, he spent so much time silently brooding. He played chess with Ron, worked on assignments with Hermione, and had quiet conversations with Neville. But all the while, Ron could sense that Harry was only going through the motions. It felt like the other boy had lost something integral - a part of him was gone and it scared Ron senseless.

It had been very clear that the last thing Harry wanted to do was testify at Zabini's trial today. He had looked shaky on his feet when leaving the Great Hall, and his facial expression plainly said that others should stay away from him. Unfortunately, as was the norm, many didn't listen, and they stared at him like he was an animal in a zoo. Ron, having been friends with Harry for over three years now, was used to these kinds of looks, but they rankled him to no end. You know you did the same thing, once upon a time, an insidious voice whispered to him, and it only made him more irritated. He remembered too well his first day of Hogwarts, when his eyes had grown wide with surprise that he was in the same train compartment as Harry Potter - and he'd asked to see his scar. Merlin, he liked to think he knew better now.

The talk in the Great Hall concerned the trial and what could possibly be going on. Hermione sat on one side of him, picking at her food, and this time, Ron knew her slow eating had nothing to do with house-elves. On his other side, Neville barely had any food on his plate at all. All three of them were wondering the same thing - how was Harry faring?

Afternoon classes went at a snail's pace, and Ron's worry only intensified when he noticed that his teachers were all acting oddly. They still taught their lessons, but there was something strange about the way they were behaving. And then, Ron remembered that only a few of the staff had been in the Great Hall for lunch. Weird. That hardly ever happened. Granted, not all of them were at every meal, but the table had been almost empty and Ron didn't like it one bit. Whenever something like this happened, his best friend was always involved somehow. Trouble seemed to follow him - it was attracted to him like a magnet. Ron tried to forget about the times when he'd been convinced that Harry walked straight into it, seeking it out. That wasn't the kind of thing that one should think about their best friend.

"When is Harry supposed to be back?" Hermione asked as they made their way out of their last class of the day, Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had seemed incredibly preoccupied - he was the worst of the lot when it came to hiding how he felt. Hermione had asked concernedly whether he was all right, to which he'd replied, "Yeh don' need ter worry abou' it, Hermione. I'm fine." It was said in the most uncnvincing tone Ron thought he'd ever heard.

"I dunno," Ron replied as they walked into the entrance hall. "I suppose it'll be whenever today's proceedings end."

"I'm worried about him," Neville confessed quietly. "I really hope he's okay."

Despite all the anger and frustration Ron had felt towards his best friend lately, he agreed, "Me too." His insides squirmed with guilt when he recalled this morning, when Seamus had told Harry that he was treating his classmates like crap. Ron hadn't agreed or disagreed, because honestly, there was a tiny part of him that had wanted to cheer at Seamus's words. Yet another thing that someone shouldn't think about their best friend.

"I know. Me too," Hermione agreed with the boys. "Hopefully, it won't be long now until he comes back."

But by dinner, he still wasn't amongst them and Ron was growing increasingly concerned. If a trial lasted this long into the day, wouldn't they just continue it tomorrow? Didn't the Wizengamot have families they needed to go home to?

But everything changed when a whole barrage of owls winged their way into the Great Hall. "What the bloody hell?" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "What's going on?"

But deep down, he knew exactly what was going on - he just didn't want to acknowledge it. The owls were bringing any Daily Prophet subscriber a special Evening Edition. These didn't happen that frequently - it only occurred if there was big news that simply couldn't wait until the morning to be released to the public. Ron saw that Hermione and Neville's faces had gone pale, having the same thought as he did - what had happened to Harry now?

A hush fell over the Great Hall as the news was revealed. Ron glanced at the staff table, which was full again now. He saw the concerned faces there and his heart somersaulted in his chest. He saw that McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Snape were not in attendance, and that only made his stomach sink even more.

"Oh no. Oh no. Oh no." Ron heard Hermione murmur continuously as she looked at the headline of the Prophet.

Ron, scared and desperate and impatient, demanded, "What? What, Hermione?"

"Dementors." The word was whispered as she laid out the Prophet so that Ron could see it. Neville had his own copy in front of him, his face white as his eyes went down the page.

No sooner had they read the first few paragraphs than Ron, Hermione, and Neville were out of their seats. If Harry was anywhere, he'd be in the hospital wing, right? But that had happened this morning - surely he would have come out of there by now?

But they had to check. Where else could he be? It was the only logical explanation. He had to be in the hospital wing - he just had to be.

Ron's mind was racing. Snape. Snape had cast the Patronus. Surely that couldn't be right. Why hadn't Harry done it? He knew how. He'd apparently cast a spectacular one the year before. Surely he could do it again? Had he just ... given up? Why? The Prophet said he had tried to cast it ... and hadn't succeeded.

And Snape had been the one to do it. And ... a doe? A silver doe? But wasn't Harry's Patronus a stag? This didn't make any sense at all.

Everyone was so engrossed in the Daily Prophet that no one seemed to be paying attention to what the trio were doing. They made it out of the Great Hall without being accosted by anyone, and they hurried to the hospital wing. Ron's heart was beating double-time - the article had said that Harry was still unconscious when Dumbledore had shown up at the Ministry and gotten him, Snape, and Malfoy back to Hogwarts.

Harry. The closer he got to the hospital wing, the more he was filled with dread. There was something really not right about his best friend lately. And maybe he'd been a stupid git - he'd spent quite a bit of time being angry with him, wondering why he couldn't be the Harry of first year. The poisoning had terrified him - he still remembered the sound of Harry's ragged breathing as he grew closer and closer to death, only to be saved by Snape. He would never forget the urgency in the man's motions as he and Madam Pomfrey had poured that potion down Harry's throat, the potion that had saved his life.

And now, Snape had gone and cast a Patronus. Ron was flabbergasted. It seemed as though this year, the Earth had started spinning in the opposite direction. The sun might as well be rising in the west these days. Things were so entirely topsy-turvy and strange. Ron didn't think he'd ever felt so confused. Snape had saved Harry - again.

But why hadn't Harry come back? Sure, he might need time to recover, and Ron then realized that he hadn't seen Malfoy, either. Not that he really cared about that. Malfoy might not be as diabolical as he once was, but he was still a slimy snake who worshiped the ground his father walked on and loved the fact that he'd worn one of those evil skull masks at the Quidditch World Cup, terrorizing innocent Muggles.

Once they reached the hospital wing doors, Ron's stomach felt like it had spiders squirming around in it. His throat had gone dry and he was panicking. Merlin, he was such a bloody sod. Harry would laugh if he could see his face right now.

But Hermione and Neville weren't faring much better. Hermione was wringing her hands together, and Neville's face was pale. Ron had never considered himself someone who had a sixth sense - it was always him and Harry that were making fun of anything to do with Divination. Professor Trelawney was a complete lunatic. As long as Ron and Harry filled their papers with doom and gloom, and Ron predicted Harry's gruesome, messy death every other paragraph, she would be happy. His dire predictions had even made Harry grin last year as the other boy actually gave him ideas for how he would die. In one prediction, he was bitten by poisonous snakes. In another, he drowned in the Black Lake. In another, his head was so disfigured by a beater's bat that it cost him his life. It was so completely morbid, but right up Professor Trelawney's alley.

But Ron knew something was wrong now, and it had absolutely nothing to do with crystal balls, tea leaves, or star charts. It was the feeling he had in his gut, the way every beat of his heart sounded so loud in his ears. It was knowing that Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall were missing from the staff table at dinner. It was the knowledge that this morning, when Harry left, an awful part of Ron had been glad to see him go. He wouldn't have to put up with Harry's standoffish, brooding attitude for several hours.

Ron reached out his hand to open the door, but he hesitated. "Come on." Hermione's voice was too loud in the quiet of the corridor. "We have to do this. We have to see what's going on."

So, knowing the three of them were walking into something that they couldn't escape from, Ron opened the doors, and they walked inside. They heard quiet voices coming from behind one of the curtains, and all three of them walked towards the noise.

"Honestly, Albus, I don't understand what the problem is. I've cast every diagnostic spell that I possibly can, and the results aren't showing anything. I can't explain why Mr. Potter isn't waking up."

Ron felt an icy sensation flooding his veins. What in Merlin's name did she mean, Harry wasn't waking up? She must be doing something wrong!

Hermione let out a gasp that was audible enough for the adults to hear her. The curtains opened, and Albus Dumbledore stepped towards the three frightened teens. "I thought you would come," he said quietly.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione spoke in a tiny voice that was laced with fear and anxiety. "Madam Pomfrey just said Harry's not waking up. What's wrong?"

"Did the Dementor get him? Was Snape's Patronus too late?" Ron felt a tidal wave of unreasonable anger roar to life within him. All he wanted to do at that moment was scream at Snape until his throat was raw. Harry had, strangely enough, seen something in Snape, and Snape had done nothing but hurt Harry mentally. Had he been too late for him now?

"I assure you, no." Dumbledore spoke gently, looking at Ron in a knowing fashion. The boy felt like he was being X-rayed - a term that his father, who was obsessed with all things Muggle, had explained to him. It was a rather disconcerting feeling - he could sense that Dumbledore knew exactly what he was thinking. "This was none of Professor Snape's doing. I daresay he saved the souls of everyone in that atrium."

Ron did not want to hear the Headmaster singing Snape's praises - every molecule, every atom of his being was focused on Harry. "Then what's wrong?" he demanded, speaking harshly but not caring.

"When we got Harry back here, he was still unconscious. He and Draco were both given Dreamless Sleep Potions," Dumbledore explained, looking at all three teens kindly. "Draco awoke when he was supposed to, when the potion wore off. But Harry did not, and nothing we do seems to rouse him."

"What could be wrong with him, sir?" Neville's voice was trembling. "Why would this happen if he hasn't been kissed by a Dementor?"

"That, we do not know." Dumbledore sighed, looking extremely sad. "But ... Harry has been through a lot lately, has he not?"

"Yeah." Ron felt anger hit him again. He had always had faith in Dumbledore and knew he shouldn't be angry with him - the Headmaster was one of the best damned wizards in the world. He was smart and knowledgeable and always seemed to know what to do in a crisis. But Harry was lying in that bed, not waking up, and Dumbledore was just standing there looking sad. "Why could none of you lot see what Zabini was planning?" Ron demanded rudely. "And isn't Moody supposed to be a friend of yours? Everyone always touts that you two've been friends for decades. How did you not know that Crouch was pretending to be him?"

Dumbledore's eyes appeared to lose all their light at this. He did not raise his voice to Ron when he answered; if anything, it had grown quieter, and it was filled with regret. "Crouch, unfortunately, played his part extremely well," he said somberly. "But I bear much responsibility for it as well. It is my duty to keep this school safe - and I failed. And I failed twice this year alone."

Ron was taken off-guard by the brutal honesty in Dumbledore's words. He felt his anger evaporate, only to be replaced by fear and desperation. "How did the Dementors get into the atrium?" His tone was now pleading, wanting nothing more than for Dumbledore to have all the answers.

"Surely, they can't just wander into any room they like," Hermione said, sounding close to tears. "What happened?"

"That, I cannot answer, because I simply do not know." The sadness in Dumbledore's eyes only seemed to magnify. "The Aurors and others in law enforcement are looking into the situation."

"How do you know that Harry wasn't K-Kissed?" Neville stumbled over the last word, his entire body shaking. His face was as white as snow as he spoke his, Hermione's, and Ron's worst fear out loud.

"There are spells you can cast to find out whether a Dementor has performed the Kiss on a person," said McGonagall as she stepped from behind Harry's curtains, looking at Neville with compassion. "Madam Pomfrey cast the spell on Harry. He has definitely not been Kissed."

"Then what are you going to do? How are you going to find out what's wrong with him?" Ron knew he was speaking quickly, his voice panicked, but he didn't care. He'd been through several adventures with Harry - but now, just like when his best mate was poisoned, he could do nothing.

"I am about to contact Saint Mungo's," said Madam Pomfrey, also stepping out from behind Harry's bedcurtains. "I shall ask a Healer to come and take a look at him. This is not my expertise, and the hospital has some of the best Healers."

"That is a good idea, Poppy. Severus, Minerva, and I will join you," said Dumbledore. Turning back to Ron, Hermione, and Neville, he added gently, "You may sit with him if you like."

Severus Snape was the last one to step out from behind Harry's curtains. He did not make eye contact with the trio at all as he strode briskly to Madam Pomfrey's office. Dumbledore gave the trio one last compassionate glance as he left, promising to keep them updated.

And so here they were, once again - Ron, Hermione, and Neville were sitting helplessly by Harry's bedside. Merlin, Ron despised being in this position - he was useless. His best friend was suffering and he was bloody useless.

But was Harry really suffering this time? He was lying in the bed, seemingly very deeply asleep. He looked extremely peaceful - all the frown lines on his face that had been so prominent in the last several weeks appeared to have vanished. His breathing was deep and even, and when Hermione put a hand on his forehead, he wasn't running a temperature. At a glance, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

But there had to be something wrong, right? People didn't just go to sleep and not wake up if something wasn't wrong. And Merlin, Ron felt so excruciatingly guilty. In the darkest part of himself, he'd thought Harry a very bad friend lately. Harry was keeping things from him - he just knew it. There was something he wasn't telling him, and Ron couldn't deny that he still wanted to know what it was.

But now, there were bigger things to worry about. He still had a million questions about the botched trial today - why the bloody hell was Snape's Patronus so similar to Harry's? Was it just coincidence, or was there something deeper? And how did someone like Snape even know how to cast a Patronus? The thought of that greasy, slimy git producing something so pure was laughable to Ron - but, yet, it had happened.

"Harry." Hermione's soft, scared voice broke through Ron's thoughts as she picked up one of Harry's hands and held it in her own. "We're here for you, whatever's going on." Ron could see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "Please - please be okay. Please wake up soon."

"Harry, mate." Ron's voice was croaky. "You can't do this to us. Not again. I'm sorry - Merlin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not defending you against Seamus this morning. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you like I should have been."

Neville gazed at Harry silently, not saying anything at all. His devastated facial expression, though, told Ron and Hermione how deeply this was affecting him.

After what seemed like an age, Dumbledore was walking back towards the trio. "Wha-what happened, sir?" Neville had spoken at last, his voice shaky. "What did Saint Mungo's say?"

Dumbledore conjured a chair by Harry's bedside and sat down. "We spoke with several Healers, who are extremely reputable. They have told us to leave Harry be for tonight. He has been through some terrible ordeals lately, and may just need the rest."

"No," said Ron adamantly, shaking his head. "It's something more than that - I can feel it."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "However," he continued as if Ron had not interrupted, "if he does not awaken by tomorrow morning, one of them will come here to Hogwarts to take a look at him." He gazed down at Harry, the expression on his face suddenly so terribly sad that Ron felt his heart clench. "I am sorry," he told the trio quietly. "I understand how hard this must be for you. We will get this resolved - I promise you that."

But as Ron continued to sit vigil by Harry's bed long into the evening, Neville and Hermione keeping watch beside him, he somehow didn't think it would be an easy solution at all.