In later years, Ron would find himself unable to recall the days following the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Everything seemed to be a blur. There was a vague recollection of Hermione telling him to leave Bill's bedside and go wait for Harry in the dormitory that first night. There were hours of sunlight spent sitting with her, Harry and Ginny. Ginny could remember visits to Bill's bedside, of teasing Ron that it was the first time Fleur had not affected him in any way. Ron's mind was blank when it came to this. There was the vague memory of the hum- Harry assured him it was Fawkes. If pushed, he remembered feeling like he'd fallen off a cliff. That there was suddenly a great height and darkness all around. Nothing to do but worry as he careened towards the ground.

His memory cleared with the morning of Dumbledore's funeral.

He hadn't been sleeping much. Things on his mind, certainly, but Harry was tossing and turning in his sleep, and Ron was worried about him. Maybe not as much as Ginny or Hermione, but enough to stay awake to help if needed. Knowing where they were needed had passed unspoken between he and Hermione as Harry left with McGonagall. That whatever happened, Harry was the priority. It meant leaving his brother to go wait for Harry. It meant watching over him as he slept. It meant trying to keep Harry as hidden as possible from prying eyes. It meant turning away to give Harry and Ginny some semblance of privacy.

It meant having no time alone with Hermione.

Granted, he wasn't sure what he would do with it anyway. The combination of Bill's injury and Dumbledore's death made everything seem far more dangerous than it ever had before. Without Dumbledore, Ron's certainty of their ability to win had dwindled. He didn't dare voice this, knew that Harry needed all the support he could get, but it ate away at his insides. Mum had lost her brothers in the last war. Merlin only knew who might die in this one.

Trying to shoo the melancholy thoughts away, he dressed in his best robes in the dawn light and walked downstairs. The common room was nearly empty. Dean was over by a window, sketching. The only other figure was curled up on the couch by the fireplace, Crookshanks snoozing on her hip.

Unexpectedly, Ron felt his lips curl into a smile. It had been ages since he'd found Hermione this early. He half expected a textbook to be dangling from her hand. Smiling at Dean, who had noticed him coming down, he made his way over to the fireplace, sitting down in front of her. Crookshanks blearily opened one eye and fixed Ron with a glare. Ron was almost glad for it, for the feelings of normalcy it brought. Ignoring the cat, he watched Hermione's sleeping form. The look of peace on her face was there once more. He hoped she was having nice dreams.
Her curls were pulled back into a messy sort of bun, and a few of the longer ends were trailing down her forehead. They moved with every exhale. Ron watched them for a moment, transfixed. How did it not seem to bother her? He would be driven mad with that on his face.

As though she'd heard him, Hermione lifted one hand in slumber and tried to paw them away. It did nothing. Her hand fell once more to her side, and the curls remained stubbornly exactly where they'd been.

Ron smiled to himself. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached up and tucked the curls behind her ear. He kept his hand on her chin afterwards, marvelling at the softness of her skin. She made a contented noise. Ron felt his heart swoop.

A brief ray of sunlight poured down from the windowsill, illuminating her skin. The bruises underneath her eyes. The redness of her nose, born from the tears that continually dripped since Dumbledore's death. She seemed to be taking it almost as hard as Harry. Except Hermione's grief seemed to manifest in trips to the library, trying to find anything on Horcruxes or RAB. Harry took it as a personal affront that the locket was a fake. Hermione seemed to find this turn of events intriguing. He was sure that she'd figure it out. After all, it turned out she was on the right track with the Prince stuff. Not that she got any pleasure out of it, from what he gathered. If anything, she seemed miffed that she hadn't discovered it sooner.

'Ron?'

A second too late, he realized she'd opened her eyes. They were now looking at him questioningly. Fair enough, given he was still cupping her cheek.

'Hey,' he coughed, withdrawing his hand. 'You ,er, had a curl that was bugging you.'

She sat up, dislodging Crookshanks from his position. Crookshanks hissed at Ron, clearly believing it to be his fault he was being moved. Ron resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his feline enemy.

'What time is it?' she asked, badly disguising a yawn.
Ron checked his watch. '6:30.'
Hermione frowned. 'Then why are you up? And in your dress robes?'
He shrugged. 'Couldn't sleep.'
She nodded.

'Why are you down here?' Ron asked, hoping to change the subject. Hermione blushed and folded her arms across her chest.
'Things are a bit awkward up there. With Parvati gone…'

Ron felt his ears burn. It wasn't fair of Lavender to make Hermione's life miserable, just because of something he'd done.
'Well that's bollocks. I should give her a piece-'
'It's not worth it,' Hermione chided softly. 'I happen to be the easy target for her at the moment.'
She paused, looking out the window. 'It's hard for everyone.'

Hard was an understatement.

'Are you packed?' she asked, changing the subject.
Ron nodded. He wanted to be out of the castle as soon as possible. Would rather be at the Burrow. Or anywhere that didn't remind him of Dumbledore, or the battle they'd just fought.
'You?' he returned. He drew his knees up to his chest, trying to shake some feeling into his foot.
Hermione shook her head.

'Wait, does that mean I'm ready before Hermione Granger?' Ron grinned. 'Someone alert the Prophet.'
Hermione gave a small laugh. Then the frown returned. 'I don't want to leave without finding something about Horcruxes.'
'Still nothing?'
She shook her head once more. 'Dumbledore told me I wasn't looking in the right places, but I have no idea what that could mean.'
Ron froze. 'When did you speak to Dumbledore?'

Hermione turned red. Her lips disappeared into a tight line. Telltale signs she was hiding something. Ron was determined to find out what it might be.

'Hermione,' he asked again, more slowly this time, 'when did you talk to Dumbledore?'

'Morning!' Hermione was saved from answering by Ginny stepping off the stairs and walking towards them. 'Couldn't sleep either?'

Hermione looked away, over to Ginny. Ron was reluctant to let their previous conversation go, but held his tongue. He supposed he could wait for a moment alone. Or at least one where everyone else was distracted.

The Common Room filled over the next hour, more sombre faces appearing at the foot of the staircases. A moment to bring up what Hermione had said never seemed to materialize. When Harry left to go to the loo, Ron thought he might have a chance, but Ginny dragged Hermione up the Girls' staircase to get ready for the funeral. They returned nearly an hour later, Ginny in her crimson dress robes, Hermione in a pearly grey set he'd never seen before. Harry didn't seem to notice either of them. Ginny merely walked over and took his hand, ready to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ron wasn't sure he should tell Hermione that she looked nice. It felt like an inappropriate thing to say before a funeral. She didn't seem to mind his silence as she fell into step beside him. They followed the others out of the portrait hole and down the stairs. An overwhelming quiet descended upon them the entire walk to breakfast. Other than a few nods at fellow students, nobody looked very far from their feet. It wasn't until they were actually in the hall that Hermione made a sudden move. As Harry and Ginny walked to find seats at the Gryffindor table, Hermione grabbed Ron's arm.

'Do you trust me?' she asked, in nearly a whisper.
'Course.' Ron didn't even have to think about his answer. He watched Harry and Ginny walk away from them, wondering why Hermione had chosen now to confide in him.
'I saw Dumbledore the day he died.'

Ron gaped at her. 'What? When? Why didn't you-' Hermione was already shaking her head.
'I can't tell you.'
'What do you mean you can't tell me?' Ron asked, feeling hurt. 'You said you trust me.'
'And I meant it,' Hermione said, calm and collected. 'But he asked me not to tell you or Harry, and I have to respect that wish.'
He swallowed hard. It felt wrong to be angry at a man whose funeral they were about to attend, but there Ron was.
'Were you in trouble?' He asked, concerned.
She shook her head. 'He…he helped me figure out why I thought I saw you that day you were in the Common Room.'

Ron thought back. The memory seemed like a lifetime ago, rather than a week.
'Oh,' was all he could seem to manage. 'Was it a bad thing?'
Hermione dropped his arm. She studied his face intently as though expecting it to disappear in front of her eyes.
'No,' she finally whispered. Ron swallowed once more.
'Is that all you can tell me?'
She nodded. Her eyes softened, took on an apologetic look. Ron stared at her for a moment.
'Okay. I suppose that will have to do.'

He blew out a breath, looking up at the head table when his heart sank. A familiar figure was seated next to Professor Slughorn. A redheaded, horn-rimmed glasses wearing someone. He swore.
'What?' Hermione must have heard him, and immediately turned to where he was looking. 'Oh.' She must have seen Percy also.
'Can't believe he showed up,' Ron grimaced.
'I expect he's only here on Ministry matters,' Hermione murmured.
'Well yeah,' Ron agreed, temper flaring. 'Couldn't be to see his gravely injured brother. D'you know he never even bothered to send an owl? Bill made the bloody Prophet and that git couldn't even be arsed to send a note.'
'It must be complicated for him,' Hermione tried to reason, but Ron shoved her off.
'Yeah, as complicated as you keeping things from me.' He shot her a pointed look.

A wave of hurt crossed her features. The moment he'd said it, Ron wanted to take it back, but she had already begun walking away. She found a spot next to Ginny, leaving Ron to take the seat next to Harry. Irritated with himself and with his stupid older brother, Ron began dishing himself some bacon.

He couldn't quite shake his anger towards Percy. Nor the fact that Hermione was deliberately keeping something from him. Again. Of course Dumbledore would be the one to figure out her problem. Dumbledore, who spent so much time with Harry, and now apparently Hermione. Once again, Ron was left behind. No need to let the sidekick know anything.

He stabbed at the food on his plate, half hoping to draw Percy's attention. No such luck. Only Harry gave him an odd look, but quickly returned to trying to hide behind his fringe. Ron assumed he didn't want to have to talk to the Minster. Ron looked up at Scrimgeour.
Percy certainly looked chummy with him. Ron regretted not flinging parsnips at his smug face when he had the chance last Christmas.

Ginny seemed to read his mind, as she leaned forward conspiratorially.
'Reckon it's too far for me to get porridge in his hair?'

Harry and Ron both laughed, but Hermione simply looked miffed. It took a minute to remember that Hermione hadn't been with them when it happened.

'Christmas,' Ron offered to her, hating to see her feeling left out. She nodded, but said nothing. With that, she put her knife and fork down, abandoning the last of her bacon. She watched the head table, as Ron watched her, trying to put together what she was thinking.

Hermione didn't say another word throughout the breakfast. There wasn't much in the way of conversation anyway, but she kept her eyes fixed away from them. She didn't break even when McGonagall announced that it was time to take their seats for the funeral. Ginny had to elbow her to get her to follow them out of the room.

Ron didn't think he'd ever seen Hogwarts so silent. The birds outside were having a particularly raucous morning. Harry was ahead of him, and seemed to tilt his head towards the warmth of the sun the moment they were outside. Ron, on the other hand, grimaced. Bless Fred and George for the robes, but they were hot. He was going to be a sweaty mess by the time the funeral was over. Hermione fell into step with Ginny, leaving Ron free to admire the way her robes seemed to float against her skin. Like rippling waves. Why hadn't he seen these before?

'Are you coming?' she asked him, breaking his stare. He nodded, realizing he'd been staring at her all the way towards the rows of chairs. With a hand, he allowed her to go ahead of him. He took the seat at the very end of the row, able to stretch out his legs. She settled into the place next to him, passing Ginny a handkerchief as she did so. The fabric around her seemed to whisper as she moved.

'What happened to your old robes?'
She looked taken aback at the question. Granted, Ron was as well. He felt like a right idiot.
'You mean the ones I wore to the Yule Ball?' she clarified. Ron nodded.
'Ron,' she began, and he noticed a smile cross her face. 'Those don't fit anymore.'
'How come?'
She turned bright red, and Ron realized he must have said something to embarrass her.
'Never mind,' he added quickly. 'I just…these ones are nice.'
Hermione looked surprised, but grateful.
'Oh. Thank you. Stephen made them.'

At the mention of the shopkeeper, Ron was inexorably reminded of the knickers Stephen had shown them after he'd failed his Apparition test. Which then made him wonder if Hermione might be wearing said knickers underneath her robes. Trying desperately to forget that thought, he was grateful for Ginny pointing out the Merpeople, giving him a chance to turn away from Hermione. This allowed him to grimace in private. For merlin's sake. It was a funeral.
When a hush descended over the crowd, Ron turned back to see Hagrid coming down the aisle, carrying something magnificently wrapped. It took a moment for him to cotton on that it was Dumbledore.

And maybe it was the fact that he hadn't ever really seen a dead body before, but this made it finally sink in that Dumbledore was gone. That one of the greatest wizards who had ever lived was no more. Yet You-Know-Who was still around. And somehow it was up to Harry to defeat him. How in the name of Merlin's pants were they going to do that?

He heard a shaky gulp from beside him, looking down to see Hermione quietly sobbing. Next to her, Ginny was as well, and Ron couldn't remember Ginny crying before. Not since childhood at least. Ron found he couldn't watch the pair of them, that the emotions were too much to face. He stared towards the dais and the small man who had begun to speak about Dumbledore's accomplishments.

His hands began to tingle. Trying to shake the feeling did nothing to help it. His breaths became shallow. Thoughts began to race one after another, and he couldn't keep track of them. It was like trying to focus on the Quidditch World Cup. He could really use those Omioculars for his brain right now. Merlin, had he ever actually paid Harry back for that like he said? Or was it only the Leprechaun gold? Would Harry even care?

His heart began to pound in his chest, in his throat. He could feel it beating in his teeth. Something was wrong. His mouth had gone dry, but somehow his body still found ways to sweat. Good merlin, did he smell? That would really be the cherry on the top of the cake that was this shitty, shitty day. Smelling like shit with Hermione next to him looking beautiful.

Why couldn't he breathe? It was easy. He'd done it all his life. And yet the idea of inhale/exhale seemed the hardest thing to do at the moment.

He knew there was a funeral happening. That people were upset, but it felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. He turned to look at Hermione, who had tears falling quickly down her cheeks. She'd be able to help, right? She always had the answers.

But what if something happened to her? Who would answer his questions then?

What little air he'd been able to take in seemed to turn solid at the thought. He must have made a sound, because Hermione stopped paying attention to the minister and turned her face to his. Her face morphed from sadness to alarm. Her eyes dried up instantly.

'Ron?' she mouthed, seemingly not wanting to disturb the speech. 'Are you okay?'

As if his head were no longer connected to the rest of his body, he was able to give a little shake. Hermione, merlin bless her, seemed to understand. Discreetly, she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and tapped it onto his thigh.
Tendrils of grey mist shot out of it and went into his bloodstream. Almost immediately, he could breathe again. Still rapid at first, but after a couple of moments, his heartbeat came back under control and he was able to follow a train of thought.

Hermione's eyes never wavered as he came back to himself. She nodded to herself the first time he was able to audibly exhale, apparently satisfied that he was breathing once more. 'You're okay,' she mouthed. 'I'm here with you.' With that, she put her hand atop of his. It seemed to settle him. In fact, it settled him enough that he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He was powerless to stop them. As they fell, Hermione took notice. Through his rapidly blurring vision, he watched a fresh wave of tears cascade down her own face.

It wasn't clear who instigated it. One moment they were looking at each other and crying, and the next, Hermione was tucked against his neck, dripping tears down the front of his robes as he cried into the same curls he was stroking. Ron wasn't entirely sure what he was crying about. Whether it was Dumbledore, or the looming task ahead of them, or fear for his family, or the fact that they couldn't go a single bloody year at this school without something catastrophic happening. He was only just of age, and felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The crowd had thinned by the time Hermione's tears had stopped. Ron's seemed to dry up sooner, but he was reluctant to let her go while she was still weepy, so he kept weaving his fingers through her hair. It was hard to say if she found this soothing, but the repetitive motion certainly was to him. Eventually she sniffed, and rubbed her eyes a little. Ron released her hair, and she sat up to face him.

'Thank you,' she said. Ron shrugged.
'I'm the one that should be thanking you. Dunno what got into me.'

Hermione frowned. 'What happened?'
Ron swallowed, trying to think of a way to describe it.
'Felt like I couldn't breathe, which is stupid, I know, because I know how to breathe, but my brain couldn't figure it out-'
'You had an anxiety attack,' Hermione interrupted.
'A what?' A sinking feeling began to grow in his stomach.
'That's what you're describing. I haven't done a lot of research on them, to be frank, but from what I have read, that's what it sounds like. Frozen, hyperventilating. Was your mind racing?' Her eyes had taken on the sparkle of determination she got when she thought she was right.
'Er…yeah.'
She nodded, looking grim yet pleased. 'I gave you a calming charm. I gather it helped?' Ron could only nod.

Needing a calming charm during a funeral didn't bode well for whatever was coming next. He could just imagine being in a dangerous situation, and Hermione having to waste precious seconds trying to calm him down rather than fight back. Harry yelling at him to get it together. Being the reason the whole thing failed.

Her hand settled on his thigh.
'Don't.'
'Don't what?'
'Don't start this,' she continued. 'Whatever story you're telling yourself right now, it isn't true.'

Swallowing once more he stared down at her hand, at the cuticles she'd chewed to oblivion.
'It could be.'
'Ron.' His name escaped her mouth as a half-groan, half-reprimand. 'Has this ever happened before?'
He shook his head.
'Right. Have you ever been to a funeral before?'
He shook his head again.
'Have things ever seemed quite so dire before?'
At this, he looked up. 'You mean for me, or the world?'
She rolled her eyes, making the corners of his mouth turn up. 'For the world, obviously.'
'Then no.'
'So it makes sense for this to hit you now. With Bill in the hospital, and everything with Harry…'
She trailed off, looking around.

'Actually, speaking of, where is he?'
Ron looked around as well. At some point during their crying jag, it appeared that both Ginny and Harry had vanished. Ginny's hair made her easy to spot, down a few rows over helping Bill out of his seat. Unusually, Harry was nowhere to be seen. The pair of them had stuck together like spellotape over the last weeks. Why not now?

A sinking feeling dropped into his stomach. Something that had nothing to do with his previous attack. He kept his eyes peeled for Harry's messy black hair.

'We need to find him.' Hermione removed her hand from his leg and straightened up. 'I'd rather he not get into it with the Minister'

'Looks like it's too late for that.' Ron had spotted Scrimgeour leaving Percy's side and striding over to Harry. Hermione turned to where he was looking and sighed deeply.

'Well, come on then,' she muttered. 'Let's go be diplomatic.'
'Who cares about diplomacy right now?' Ron asked, following in her wake. 'If you ask me, now's the perfect time to punch Percy right in his smug mouth.'

Hermione spun so quickly, Ron couldn't stop from running into her. She didn't seem to wince at the contact as he collided against her small frame.

'Ron, you can't be serious.'
'Deadly! We might be in a better position if Percy weren't such a pompous, arrogant, pr-'
'He's still your brother,' Hermione interrupted. 'And a high-ranking ministry member. The last thing Harry needs is for you to be taken in front of a Ministry tribunal.'
'Only Harry?'

He wasn't sure if it was the sudden burst of sunlight, but he swore Hermione's cheeks turned pinker.
'Stay in line, would you? For me?' She asked, after a moment. Ron could only nod.

It wasn't a declaration that she also needed him. Irrationally, Ron felt another surge of irritation towards Percy.
'He's leaving,' said Hermione, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards Harry's retreating figure. 'Come on, it's time to see what Harry wants.'

It had to be about what Harry wanted. For the first time in ages, Ron felt a twinge of jealousy towards his best mate. Hermione seemed to put Harry first no matter what. Made sense really. Why should Ron matter more to her? He was just the one she bloody cried onto. The one she talked to. Of course Harry needed to be the priority. Ron tried to shake these thoughts out of his head as they met up with Harry under the shade of a tree.

Except throughout their conversation, even between him learning they wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts, and trying to remind everyone that they did still have a wedding to go to, he couldn't quite forget it. Hermione seemed to be sharing one mind with Harry. Ron was left alone.

And he wasn't sure he liked it.