Hermione slept badly that night. She tossed and turned for hours before finally falling into a restless slumber. And even then her dreams of the ever nearing battle with Voldemort woke her up, soaked in sweat and trembling from head to toe. All in all she was glad when morning finally arrived. As the sun appeared on the horizon Hermione got up, dressed and headed downstairs, picking Crookshanks up on the way. To her surprise she found Harry, Ron, Bill and Mr Weasley all sitting at the table talking quietly. She felt rather suspicious when Mr Weasley stopped talking at the sight of her.
“’Morning Hermione,” he said quickly, casting a glance of warning around the table so that the others stopped too.
“Good morning, Mr Weasley,” Hermione replied putting Crookshanks down on an empty chair. Ron stood up suddenly and said;
“Hermione, will you come for a walk with me? Now?” He said this all very fast and his ears turned steadily redder as he spoke.
“Sure, Ron,” she said, puzzled, and followed him out the backdoor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bill and Harry grinning and shot them a look before hurrying to catch up with Ron who had set off at an extremely fast pace. They walked out the gate of the Burrow and down the road that led to the village. The ground was frosty and the dew was still thick on the grass. Hermione glanced at Ron every now and then but he was staring straight ahead and seemed very determined not to make eye contact with her. Finally she got so fed up that she grabbed his arm, causing him to spin around on the spot.
“Ron, look, why did you ask me to go for a walk when you won’t even look at me?” she said irritably. Still Ron refused to make eye contact, glaring at the ground as though it were the reason for all the problems in the world. Finally he said;
“Hermione, do you really want to go out with me or do you just feel sorry for me?” He looked her in the eyes as he said it. Hermione was completely taken aback. Whatever she had expected it hadn’t been that.
“Ron, of course I want to go out with you,” she managed to say. “Why would you think I felt sorry for you?” When he continued to glare at her, she said desperately;
“Look, Ron, I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you much but you know how hectic things have been, with Dumbledore’s death and everything…” she trailed off hoping he would understand or at least agree. He seemed to. He dropped his hostile look and pulled her into a hug.
“Okay,” he said softly looking down at her with a tender look in his eyes. “I’m sorry too.” Nothing could have prepared her for what he did next. He stooped his head and brought his lips close to Hermione’s. Too close. Instinctively, she pulled away, and too late, realised her mistake. She saw hurt and anger clearly in Ron’s eyes before he turned on his heel and stalked off towards the Burrow.
“Ron,” she called, her voice rising frantically. “Ron, come back.” When he kept walking she became desperate. “RON!” she screamed, “COME BACK! I’m sorry! Please come back!” But he continued to ignore her and strode back to the house, his head high and a determined air about him. “Ron, come back! …Oh, please come back,” she whispered as she sank to the ground sobbing.
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Hermione didn’t return to the house for some time and when she did it was to find to her immense relief that Harry and Ron had gone off somewhere. Normally it annoyed her when they went away without her but today she was glad that they had. She slipped upstairs to her room without talking to anyone and engrossed herself in a new book. How ever she hadn’t read more than a few before Mrs Weasley sent Ginny up to call her for breakfast.
“Okay, coming,” Hermione said, reluctant to tear her eyes away from the book. It was mostly the enticing smells that brought her down; she wasn’t in the mood for human company right now.
After breakfast Hermione took Crookshanks, three new books including the one she had been reading and a cushion and went up to Malfoy’s room. She sat down in the chair that had been moved up and began to read. Crookshanks settled himself on the end of Malfoy’s bed. Hours passed. Crookshanks purr seemed louder than ever in the quiet room. Hermione’s eyes became heavy from lack of sleep. The book she had been reading fell to the floor with a dull clunk as her head fell forward on her chest and she drifted off into a deep sleep
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No sight. No smell. No feeling. Just sounds. And thoughts. Fat lot of good they’d do him. And this place. So quiet one minute, so loud the next. Maybe he was dead. That would be nice. No more pain. But he couldn’t be. He could hear another person breathing. And purring. Weird.
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Hermione didn’t wake up until Mrs Weasley came up to call her for dinner. She groaned as she moved her stiff neck and stretched her cramped limbs. Crookshanks was still sitting on Malfoy’s bed, staring at her fixedly out of his large yellow eyes. She reached out her hand and scratched him behind his ears. She got to her feet and followed Mrs Weasley downstairs, apologizing all the way.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Weasley, I just-” she yawned. “-didn’t get much sleep last night.” Mrs Weasley smiled kindly and patted her arm.
“It’s alright, dear, don’t worry about it. I’d say we’re all very tired at the moment.” Hermione returned the smile gratefully as they entered the kitchen and she sank into one of the chairs.
“Where are Ron and Harry? Will they be here for dinner?” Hermione asked, half hoping they wouldn’t be. Mrs Weasley’s smile was replaced by a worried frown as she began serving the dinner.
“No, they won’t be here until much later. Ron seemed in a very bad mood this morning when he left; he practically dragged Harry away from the house and almost shouted at me when I asked what the matter was.” Mrs Weasley sounded hurt and looked extremely miserable. “I hate not knowing what’s wrong with my children, especially when they’re at such a vulnerable stage in their lives.” Hermione’s heart sank and she looked away. She was the reason for Ron’s bad mood and everyone else was suffering because of it. Ginny, Bill and Mr Weasley joined them soon and they all sat down to dinner. Hermione didn’t say a word and only half listened to what was being said about Bill and Fleur Delacour’s wedding. Fleur had gone back to France to see her family but would return in time for the wedding. Mrs Weasley was giving out to Bill about his hair again and Mr Weasley and Ginny were having a heated argument about Ginny’s return to Hogwarts. Hermione excused herself from the table, leaving her food untouched, and went back upstairs to Malfoy’s room. She sat down in the chair, tucked her knees up against her chest and stared at her sleeping enemy. His breathing was rough and shallow but he seemed to be all right. Hermione closed her eyes and buried her face in her arms. She felt so ill and guilty. Her world was falling apart and there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn’t getting enough sleep, she had to sit with ferret-face all day and she was fighting with Ron. Her Ron. The Ron she had fancied for all those years, the Ron she had watched grow from an immature child to an even more immature teenager (he had his moments), the Ron she had fought with and hated a million times and still liked him all the same. And she had just let him slip right through her fingers. Once again she raised her head and looked at Malfoy out of red-rimmed eyes.
“It’s funny how innocent you look now,” she said out loud. “So calm and relaxed. Before I doubt anyone saw your face without a sneer or smirk on it. Well I haven’t anyways.” She sighed. “Everybody in this house hates you and yet you can still just lie here and sleep. I wouldn’t be able to. I can hardly stay here now after what I did to Ron.” Silent tears slid down her face and fell to the floor where they glistened in the light cast over the room by the evening sun. “It’s all my fault. All my fault.”
She kept repeating it as she sat there, over and over again as she rocked slowly backwards and forwards in her chair. She didn’t let sleep over power her and stopped her thoughts from wandering past her guilt. She refused to try and blame Ron, though in her heart and soul she knew she was being stupid. She stayed there for hours, never changing her position, never shifting her gaze from the face of the boy lying in front of her. Finally Harry came up to find her and brought her down to the kitchen. He made her sit down and pushed a cup of tea towards her. Hermione sipped it and looked at Harry who was watching her from across the table, his green eyes filled with concern. She looked down at her hands.
“Hermione? Is everything all right?” Harry asked tentatively. When she didn’t answer, he leaned across the table towards her. “Hermione. Please. What’s the matter?” Finally she looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t mean it to be like that.” And she collapsed on the table crying, tears falling down her cheeks and forming huge pools on the table. Harry looked horrified and patted her awkwardly on the back. After a few minutes she regained control of herself and looked up, her eyes red and puffy. She wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeve.
“Sorry,” she murmured to Harry. “I’m just a bit mixed up. You should go to bed now. I’ll be OK.” When Harry continued to look at her doubtfully, she forced a smile and sat up straight. “Look, I’m OK. I’ll stay down here for awhile to get my head sorted out. You go.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Although he seemed reluctant to go Hermione could see he was relieved that she didn’t ask him to spend the night listening to her problems. He gave her a small smile before disappearing up to bed. Hermione waited until he was well gone before she started mentally berating herself. You’re so stupid!she scolded herself fiercely. Harry’s got enough to worry about without you falling to pieces all over him.She would get herself together, stop worrying and apologize to Ron first thing in the morning. She sighed. Give me strength.
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Sounds, all day long. Loud and quiet. Voices and words. Great. Disembodied voices and words that didn’t make sense. Well, maybe there were people there, but he couldn’t see them. Perhaps they were lurking out of sight, trying to go un-noticed by all. Or maybe he was imagining things. Made sense except that he didn’t have an imagination. Very confusing.