VII.
Hermione took a very deep breath as she walked up the stairs toward her dorm room. She didn't know what that had been about, she just knew that she had never seen Harry looking so lost and tired as he had looked at that moment when she heard him sigh. She knew how he felt-she felt that way, too. People their age weren't supposed to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, but they did. It couldn't be helped. They helped each other through it, but it still got heavy sometimes. It had felt so good to be held by him, like she could rest against him for a little while. She hoped she had done that for him, too. Grabbing her Arithmancy book and a sheaf of parchment, she headed back down to the common room to study until dinner time.
At dinner Luna joined them at the Gryffindor table and the five students in the Order discussed their suspicions about Ron and planned a schedule for guard duty for the next several nights. Hermione felt more at ease once that was done; it really felt like the right thing to do, and none of them could stand the thought of Ron getting worse. This should help. Maybe if they were lucky they could catch Malfoy, or whoever it was, doing whatever was being done, and that would stop it. She hoped it was just Malfoy; otherwise it could mean that there was a Death Eater at Hogwarts. It had happened before, but she knew the Order was fairly certain Hogwarts was safe. Hermione volunteered for the first shift, at eleven o'clock, and Harry said he'd relieve her at two o'clock. Luna agreed to come up at four o'clock, and Ginny, Neville, and Hermione again would cover the following night. Hopefully, Hermione thought, meeting Harry's eyes, they wouldn't have to do it for more than two nights. He looked determined, his jaw clenched, his green eyes blazing. At that moment, Hermione was very glad she was Harry's friend, and not, say, Malfoy. There was more power inside this man than he knew, and he would use it to protect his friends. Or if he failed at that, to avenge them. He had always been that way. At the moment, he looked so adult, so strong, and just a little scary. Since she knew she was safe with him, she felt a little thrill run through her. And she also knew that she would never, never let him down. Right now, that meant keeping Ron safe.
The night passed slowly, because Hermione was impatient to get up to the hospital wing. She had decided she would hide herself, because if someone came up she wanted to be able to Stun him from behind, right there at Ron's bedside, as proof that someone was trifling with Ron. She couldn't concentrate on her Potions or Arithmancy, and Arithmancy was usually her favorite subject. At a quarter to eleven, she finally turned to Harry, who was studying next to her at the table, and whispered, "I'm getting tired of waiting. I think I'm going to go. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey has gone to bed by now. Didn't you say she gets up really early?"
"Yeah," Harry answered. "She always was up to give people early potions. Why don't I walk you up there under the invisibility cloak, then I'll come back and get a few hours sleep and come back at two?" Hermione agreed, and they put their books away. There were still students in the common room, but they managed to get out without drawing too much attention to themselves, and once outside the portrait hole Harry flung the cloak around both their shoulders.
VIII.
He was starting to get annoyed with himself. What was going on with him? It was like the day's events had flipped some sort of switch in him, and it left him feeling confused and unsure of himself. And the only way he knew how to deal with that was to get annoyed and irritable. He had been able to push it away while they studied, side by side, all evening long (really, how many thousands of nights had he spent studying with Hermione? It would be entirely idiotic to let anything be different tonight…). But now they were here together again, under the cloak like they were in their own dark and secret world. And she was so close to him. They could no longer fit three of them under the cloak like they used to be able to do, and they had all gotten so much taller that even two of them had to walk close together. As he and Hermione were doing now. So, maybe he didn't strictly have to put his arm around her shoulders-- Merlin knew he never did that when he was under the cloak with Ron-but he suddenly found that it was easier to hold the cloak out of their faces if he did that. That had to be why he was doing it. It certainly could not have anything to do with this new and strange need to touch Hermione, to be close to her, because he was not acknowledging that to himself. And if she happened to fit just right under his arm, well, that didn't mean anything.
"Harry?" Hermione whispered. "What's the matter? Are you mad about something?" Harry rolled his eyes. Trust Hermione to pick up on his feelings, even when he was trying to hide them. How did she do that?
"No," he said, rather more shortly than he intended to. "No, nothing's the matter. I'm fine."
He felt, rather than saw, Hermione purse her lips, but she didn't say anything. He felt bad that he had snapped at her. "Sorry," he mumbled. She nodded, but didn't pursue it. They continued on in silence all the way up to the hospital wing, Harry trying to think of anything but the confusing emotions churning around inside of him. Hermione pulled out her wand and did the "Alohomora" spell. Harry was glad to see that the basic unlocking charm wasn't sufficient, and that Hermione had to perform a few other countercharms to persuade the door to unlock. He was sure Malfoy couldn't figure those others out on his own, which meant that if Malfoy was doing anything, he had help. Of course, he reminded himself, maybe Malfoy wasn't doing anything. Maybe nobody was. It was possible. But he found he really didn't believe it.
"Will I be able to get back in?" Harry whispered to Hermione.
"Yes, just use Alohomora. It'll be okay," she answered him quietly. He nodded, and let her duck out from under the cloak. He wanted to stay with her, and Ron, too, but knew he'd better get some sleep if he was to keep awake for his watch later.
"All right then, Hermione?"
"All right, Harry. See you in a few hours." She gave him a smile and since he had no real reason to stay, he left, closing and charming the door behind him.
IX.
Hermione stood in the shadows and huffed, her breath blowing her bangs straight up. She loved him, but he sure could be moody sometimes. What was that weird bad mood all about, anyway? It seemed to come out of nowhere. She couldn't think of anything that would have triggered it. Well, fine. Maybe he just needed some time to work out whatever it was that was irritating him. Quietly Hermione looked for a place to sit that would keep her concealed but close to Ron's bed. It was easier said than done, since the hospital wing was empty except for Ron right now. Eventually she sat on the floor between two beds across from Ron's. She was sure she couldn't be seen from the door, but if she looked under the bed she would be able to see approaching feet. That should do.
With a deep but silent sigh, Hermione settled against the cold stone wall. She hadn't dared to risk bringing a book along, so she kept her eyes fixed in Ron's direction, pulled out her wand and let it sit loosely in her grip, and let her mind wander. There was a lot to think about: The war, NEWTs, her plans after Hogwarts… Right now she decided to indulge herself in thinking about herself and Harry under the cloak, alone in a warm, dark world, so close that their bodies touched with every step. She wondered if he had noticed. She wished at the moment with all her heart that they lived normal lives, as normal teenagers, so that being in close proximity with the girl who liked you would actually be an event worthy of attention. But when things like death and destruction and prophecies were part of daily life, maybe little things like sharing a cloak got pushed to the side. That thought was very depressing.
She was distracted from her depression a bit when Ron moaned in his sleep. He sounded like he was in pain, and Hermione quickly got to her feet. She hesitated, but Ron's moaning and tossing continued. Quietly she pocketed her wand and walked very softly over to him. He wasn't awake, but he was pale and sweaty. Hermione seethed in frustration; why wasn't he getting better? She looked around for something, anything that might help, a potion or-she didn't really know what. For the lack of anything better to do, she stood beside his head and softly swept the red hair back from his forehead. It seemed to soothe him and he relaxed some. She looked down at him fondly. She had had a crush on him their fourth year, but nothing had ever come of it, and now they were the best of friends, and she held him in deep affection. Ron had helped her learn not to take herself too seriously. Come to think of it, he had done the same thing for Harry.
Later she would curse herself for having done everything wrong. Harry had trained her better than this. She stood by Ron's bed, where she could be seen, with her back to the door, with her wand in her back pocket where it couldn't easily be reached, and was so distracted by her thoughts of Harry and Ron that she didn't hear the soft -snick- of the hospital door opening. So she was utterly taken by surprise when she felt a hand reach around her head and clamp over her mouth, pulling her roughly backward and pinning her against the body behind her.
"What are you doing here, you filthy little Mudblood?" hissed the voice in her ear.
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