A/N: This one-shot is dedicated to AmyChris who won it as her prize for the best response to a Weekly Task in the H.M.S. Gingerly Witty forum.



“Er-my-nee.” She kept hearing it over and over in her mind as she approached the hospital wing. Harry had sent Dobby to wake her and told her first thing this morning that Ron was finally awake, asking to see her.

Hermione gave Harry an incredulous gaze. After all, she and Ron hadn’t said two words to each other in months. Four months to be precise. She pointed this small fact out to Harry.

“Hermione, you know how pigheaded Ron can be. He’s wanted to talk to you for ages, but he’s been too proud to say so. I know he misses you, and I think you know it, too.”

Hermione didn’t care for the knowing expression on Harry’s face. Had he heard Ron mumbling her name that day?

“I think you miss him, too, Hermione. Don’t you think it’s time to let this bad blood go? We almost lost him,” Harry said in a choked whisper. “What if we had? Would the argument still have been worth it?”

Harry was right, of course. Hermione had been miserable for the past four months, and when she'd heard about Ron’s poisoning, she'd kicked herself all the way to his bedside for letting their animosity go on for so long.

And now that he was awake, Hermione hastened through the castle toward him; she couldn’t get those three syllables out of her head: “Er-my-nee.”

Why would he call out for her, especially after not speaking to her for so long? Why did he not call out for his stupid cow of a girlfriend? Hermione reached the hospital wing. We’ll soon find out, she thought and opened the doors.

The room was aseptic and smelled of acrid healing potions. It was nearly empty except for the one occupied bed close to a cracked window. The sky was just starting to lighten. Although the sun was not quite awake yet, it promised to be a lovely, clear day.

Ron was propped up against a couple of pillows with a breakfast tray across his lap. Hermione attempted to creep into the silent room, but a creaky hinge gave her away. He looked up from his meal, fortunately between mouthfuls. Hermione stopped at the door; it closed with a dull thud. Ron appeared stunned for a moment and then, to Hermione’s great joy, an expansive grin brought a beautiful gleam to his eyes. How she’d missed his smile. She abandoned any notion of playing cool, raced across the ward and threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Ron!” she breathed.

At first he didn’t move, but he quickly recovered. “Blimey, Hermione, have you come to finish the job?” He laughed when she began to pull away, but before she could get too far away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight. “It’s all right, Hermione. I’m okay now.” She realized then that she had started to cry on his shoulder and quickly pulled away to wipe her eyes.

An awkward silence hovered between them.

Finally, Ron cleared his throat. “Er…Hermione,” he began as she met his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“What! Ron, you were almost killed! What do you…?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ron suddenly seemed to find his unfinished meal quite fascinating.

“Oh.” Hermione paused for a long time. Er-my-nee. “Ron, I’m sorry, too. I had no right to attack you with those canaries the way I did. I was just…” She trailed off, knowing exactly what she meant to say, but unsure of how it would be received. After all, Ron had a girlfriend.

“Hermione, you had every right. I deserved it. I was being a real prat,” Ron muttered, “and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

Hermione didn’t dare look at Ron directly, but her heart strained against her ribcage. “What do you mean?”

“Come off it, Hermione. I don’t want to be with Lavender. I never did. It’s just that every time I try to break it off, she gets all hysterical. A bit frightening, really.”

“But, why did you…I mean if you never liked her, then why?”

He blushed a faint rose color around the ears and neck. “It was because of you,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Hermione shouted. Ron jumped a bit causing the tray to rattle.

“I mean, I was having an argument with Ginny, and the last thing she said to me was that you had snogged Viktor. I was already fuming, and that, well, it sent me over the edge. I wanted to make you jealous…I’m sorry.”

Hermione realized that she’d been holding her breath, ready to explode, but then she sighed in relief. “I suppose it worked,” she chuckled. “I thought that when you said you’d come to Slughorn’s party with me, that maybe it meant something. But seeing you with Lavender…”

Ron toyed with his fork and pushed scrambled eggs around his plate. “I didn’t really want to hurt you.”

“I know, Ron. And it doesn’t matter now.” She took his hand and held it in her own. “I’m just glad you’re okay and that we’re talking again.”

Ron smiled at her and nodded. They sat in silence for a minute.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

Leave it to Ron to think about food. “No, now that you mention it. I came as soon as Dobby woke me.” And now Hermione did notice that her stomach felt a bit on the tight and grumbly side.

Ron pulled her a bit closer, and Hermione scooted toward him. He let go of her hand for a moment, picked up his last piece of bacon and broke off a piece. “Can’t have you starving on my account,” he said and held it out to her. She reached for it, but then he extended his arm a bit further and held it to her lips. She took it with a shy smile and felt the back of her neck grow warm. Ron let his fingers linger for a moment against her lips, and a mild tremor moved through her. After he'd fed her several pieces, he reached down and took her hand again. He caressed her knuckles with his thumb for a moment and then fell into his own thoughts.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah, Ron?”

“When I said I’d go with you to Slughorn’s party, it did mean something,” he whispered. Hermione squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

Apparently, she thought contentedly, “Er-my-nee” meant something as well.