IV.
They had seen Ron earlier that morning, and he had been chafing at being kept in bed. "I feel all right, really," he said about a dozen times, until Harry began to suspect it wasn't really them Ron was trying to convince but himself. He was still pale and weak, and Harry and Hermione could tell that their visits tired him out, even though he said that they were the only thing keeping him going. Harry had spent enough time in the hospital wing to know how that was, so twice a day they braved Madam Pomfrey's wrath ("This boy needs rest!") and came and sat with Ron for awhile, until they could see that it was getting to be too much for him. Today, they came as promised after the Quidditch match, thrilled to have good news to share with Ron, hoping that it would perk him up some. The fact was, Ron wasn't recovering as well as Ginny had, even though they had been hit by the same spell. Harry tried not to let his anxiety show, but underneath the casual, chatty front he presented to Ron, he was worried.
"Hi, mate," Harry said, as he and Hermione pulled up chairs close to the bed. "We beat them again, but I couldn't believe how many points they scored! You never would have let that many goals in!"
Ron smiled. "Well, go on then, tell me all about it…"
Harry and Hermione took turns filling him in on what had happened. As Hermione described every goal Ginny had scored in great detail, Harry took the opportunity to watch her. She was so animated, and Harry knew it was for Ron's sake. He knew that while Hermione didn't really care one way or the other for Quidditch, she did care about him and Ron and Ginny, and so she'd be involved in Quidditch. She had learned the names of at least the basic plays so that she could talk with them about them, but only because she wanted to be part of something that meant so much to them. Nothing in Harry's difficult childhood had prepared him for friends like this. He hadn't even known before coming here that people ever acted like this to each other. There wasn't a day that went by that he wasn't grateful for the circumstances that had brought the three of them together.
Hermione started to tell Ron about the crowd of girls that had rushed Harry after the match. Harry wished she wouldn't, he could feel himself turning red while he sat there. Ron noticed it, too, and smirked weakly. "It was awful," Hermione was saying, "they just wouldn't leave him alone. It wasn't even that bad when I went to visit Viktor. I mean, he got recognized, but they didn't treat him like that!"
"Yeah, but you rescued me," Harry said quietly. She'd rescued him. It suddenly occurred to him just how often she had done that, saved him or helped him or guided him. For some reason the realization annoyed him. Maybe she only hung around him because she didn't trust him not to get himself into trouble. Maybe she thought he needed to be tended all the time, like a misbehaving child.
Hermione seemed to read the conflicted expression on his face. "Does that bother you?" she asked, one eyebrow arching. "Did you want me to leave you to your adoring fans?"
"No," Harry said rather sullenly. "I just don't want you to think you have to save me all the time."
Ron's head was turning back and forth watching them both as though he were watching a tennis match. Hermione gave Harry an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? You've saved me loads more times than I've ever saved you! Remember the troll? Remember the dementors? Remember the Death Eaters? Honestly, Harry!"
"She's right, mate," Ron said, his voice sounding fainter than it had a few moments ago. "We've all saved each other too many times to count. Don't start keeping score now."
Harry breathed out, his breath ruffling his bangs and exposing his scar for a moment. They were right, of course. What had gotten into him? He had no reason for being annoyed that Hermione had helped him out. It was just…he didn't know. It was just that he couldn't stand the thought of Hermione being his friend just because she felt like she had to take care of him. "Yeah, you're right," he said, and gave them a crooked grin.
V.
Oh, God, Hermione thought, there's that grin again. She wished fervently for a wall to bang her head against, because every time he flashed that crooked smile longing and frustration welled up in her, and none of it had any outlet. She knew that he hated to accept help from anyone, but only because he still, after nearly seven years, wasn't used to having anyone he could count on. He knew he could count on her, and Ron, and Lupin, and the whole Order of the Phoenix, really, but it didn't come naturally to him. She knew he sincerely tried to remember that he wasn't alone, so she never said anything, even when his little moments of forgetfulness hurt her feelings. One of these days he'd stop questioning the undisputable truth that there were a lot of people who loved him.
They said goodbye to Ron, making excuses about homework they had left undone, and left him to return to sleep. They walked through the castle together quietly, each lost in thought. Their arms brushed up against each other, and Hermione wished she had the nerve to reach out and hold his hand.
"Harry," she said instead. He looked over at her. "I'm worried about Ron. Why isn't he recovering the way he should?"
"I don't know," Harry said. "I can't get Madam Pomfrey to tell me anything. But I'm starting to think something else is going on."
Hermione was alarmed. "Like what?" she asked. "Nobody can be getting to him, can they?"
"Well, it's possible," Harry shrugged. "What if Malfoy snuck up in the middle of the night and put a hex on him, or put a weakness potion in his pumpkin juice or something?"
"Do you think we should go to Dumbledore?" Hermione asked him. She could not stand the thought of any of them suffering at that filthy Malfoy's hands. But she also knew that since she had managed to save Ron and Ginny last time, Draco would want revenge. And Harry had denied it to him on the Quidditch field today.
"I don't know," Harry said. "We don't have any proof, really. We can't even prove that Draco was involved last time, that he told his dear old mum where Ron and Ginny would be."
"No, but he did it, Harry," Hermione said firmly, "I know he did. You didn't see the look he gave me when he thought they were dead. He was positively thrilled. It was disgusting."
"I know he did," Harry sighed, "and I think Dumbledore knows it, too, but he's so big on wanting his students to have the chance to make the right choices, you know? I don't think he'll punish Malfoy."
"Well, shall we stand guard, then? You and I?" Hermione suggested.
Just then Ginny came up to them from the opposite end of the hall. "Stand guard over what?" she asked.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione decided they'd have to tell Ginny; this was her brother they were talking about, after all. "Well, does it seem to you like Ron's not recovering as fast as he should? I mean, you were hit by the same spell and you're already back to Quidditch, and he's not even out of bed…"
Ginny nodded, looking grim. "Yeah, I noticed that. And I also noticed that Malfoy gives me a hateful smirk every time he sees me. I don't know what's up with that, but it makes me nervous."
Harry nodded. "Us, too. We were just talking about keeping a guard over Ron at night, in case Malfoy or someone else is doing something to hurt him, a spell or a potion or something."
Ginny nodded. "Good idea. How shall we split it up? Shall we ask any of the other DA members to take a shift?"
In the end they decided to ask the other student members of the Order to keep watch over Ron, which meant finding Luna and Neville, and after a quick discussion of the schedule, Ginny continued on her way up to the hospital wing to see Ron.
"That was a good idea, Hermione," Harry said.
Hermione smiled. She couldn't help it. It made her feel good any time Harry complimented her. She casually linked her arm in his and they continued down the hall to Gryffindor Tower.
VI.
Harry smiled back at her. She had such a pretty smile; he had noticed it since their fourth year when she had had her teeth magically repaired by Madam Pomfrey. He was a little surprised when she took his arm, but he didn't stop her. In fact, it felt nice. Really nice. Suddenly he was aware of how lonely he got sometimes, and how very little he actually touched other people. He shook his head; why that should bother him at this moment he had no idea, but he was very glad Hermione didn't let go of his arm until they were climbing through the portrait hole. He wondered what it would be like to have someone he could touch all the time.
He followed Hermione into the common room, and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't know what he should do now; he had so much work to do that he could barely keep track of it all. There was always studying to do; NEWTs were coming up in just four months. But there was also DA tonight, and he had Potions and Transfigurations homework due Monday and an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts due Tuesday that still needed a lot of research done. On top of that, Ron was still sick, the Death Eaters were waging open war all over the country, and the Order was gearing up for the final confrontation, in which he, Harry, would necessarily be very involved. All in all, his life was pretty stressful these days. He sighed deeply again and came to a halt in the middle of the room, not entirely sure what he was going to do next.
Hermione had headed toward the girls' staircase, but she stopped and turned back when Harry sighed. Harry's head was down, but he looked up at her through his bangs, suddenly feeling very tired and a little lost. Hermione retraced her steps and returned to him, and without a word wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. A few of the other students looked at them curiously, but Harry was too used to being stared at to pay any attention to them. That hunger to be touched he had felt a few minutes ago rose up in him again, and he clung to Hermione without being fully aware of how tightly he was holding on to her. He was surprised and confused to need this so badly, but he put those feelings aside for the moment. For now it was enough to be held for the first time since he could remember. He didn't need to understand it.
He didn't know how long they stood there, but it felt like a long time. He didn't want to move; the longer he held Hermione to him like that the more he relaxed inside, the more the knots in his stomach and the secret fears in the back of his mind began to loosen. Eventually he even began to feel happy. He almost didn't recognize it; he wasn't usually depressed or anything, but so much had happened in the last few years, and it had been a long time since he had felt free to feel happy.
After awhile Harry stepped back and released Hermione. He was suddenly flustered, he didn't know what to say now, but she smiled at him and turned away. Without looking back she walked through the archway and disappeared up the girls' stairs. Harry stood watching after her for a long time.
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