A/N: I don't know what happened here. I wrote most of it at 3 am in a hospital waiting room so yeah, this is really angsty. But I hope you like it!

Please Talk To Me

The weather had shifted now, officially, and the nights were no longer warm and balmy like they had been over the summer. A permanent chill had crept into the air over the past few weeks, so gradually that at first Hermione hadn't noticed. But now, with the mouth of the tent suddenly unwilling to properly zip shut, it had her shivering in her bunk, several layers of jumpers inadequate to shield her from it, awakening her to a silent tent.

Silent, save for the garbled snoring of one Harry Potter. Since the three of them had left the Burrow, Hermione had quickly learned to distinguish Harry's breathing from Ron's, as one, inexplicably (or, not so inexplicably, if she was honest with herself) brought her far more comfort than the other - and that one was absent. As she slid soundlessly out of her bunk, she could see Ron just outside the canvas flaps, his narrow frame silhouetted in moonlight, and something inside her cracked. Harry was sleeping - really sleeping, not on a sojourn into Tom Riddle's mind - and this might be her only chance. On heavily socked feet, she padded across the dingy carpet, bracing herself for the gust of wind she knew would come.

Ron sat stoically on the leaf-covered ground, his forearms resting on his knees, one hand idly twirling his wand between his fingers. His eyes flitted briefly over to her as she sat down beside him, and then fixed back upon the pile of dead leaves at his feet.

And she tried not to take it personally, because he'd been wearing the locket for what had to have been hours now, and she was awfully familiar with what it did to him. And there were times, when he'd been free of it, that she had seen glimmers of the old Ron, brief flashes of the person he used to be, and the way he made her feel, before they had all taken up permanent residence with a slice of an evil soul. Ron was in there somewhere, she knew he was, he was just hidden, trapped under the weight of it.

"Hi," she attempted feebly, her nervous voice seeming to echo through the forest. Ron gave a nod of acknowledgement. "How's watch duty going?"

"S'fine," he muttered, eyes still cast downward.

"Anything exciting happen?"

She had expected some sort of sarcastic remark, a quip about fighting off ladybugs and sparrows - but instead, all she got was a halfhearted shrug.

"Are you okay?"

Another shrug, and the thing inside her that had cracked broke completely.

"Ron…" She watched him, letting the words bubble up in her throat. "Please talk to me."

A gust of wind rustled the pines around them, almost drowning out his deadened words. "About what?"

"Anything!" Hermione blurted out, rendered desperate by the sound of his voice. "I miss you."

"I'm right here," he replied, confused. "You can't possibly-"

"But I do. I miss how things used to be, and - and I miss talking to you."

Some days, when it was cold and the locket was taking its toll on Ron and the quest to destroy the Horcruxes seemed impossibly bleak, she missed her old life at Hogwarts so much that she physically felt its absence, hollow and cold in the center of her chest. She hadn't known how much she would treasure those last few weeks of sixth year, moments when she had Ron to herself because Harry was otherwise occupied with Ginny, those late nights in the common room, playing chess (he always won, and she didn't even mind) and bickering back and forth. She didn't regret coming on this journey with Harry; she just wished she had known what she had when she had it.

"I just…" Ron cleared his throat. "I don't have much to say, these days."

Another sharp blast of cool wind washed over them, and Hermione shivered, subconsciously inching closer to Ron. He had picked up a small twig and was digging it into the damp earth, gouging out an uneven hole.

"You don't have to sit here with me," he added, watching her pull the sleeves of her jumper down over her shaking fingers. "You can go back in with Harry."

"I'm fine here," said Hermione, a bit pointedly.

"I can handle a night watch-"

"I know."

"Okay, you know what it is?" he piped up suddenly, his voice louder than it had been in days. "This whole time - all summer, and everything - I thought Harry had this figured out. You know, Dumbledore always told him things bit by bit and I reckoned, I dunno, that he was doing the same thing with us - only telling us when we needed to know - but I don't think so anymore."

Hermione's front teeth dug sharply into her lower lip as she selected her next words. She didn't want to discourage Ron any further - and maybe this was just the locket talking and he didn't really mean any of it - but she didn't disagree. She'd been waiting for a revelation for months, ever since she had learned what a Horcrux was, but it had never come.

"I know," she relented finally. "I hoped we would have learned more by now too."

"And I'm so scared," he added, finally looking up at her, his eyes blue and huge, glowing in the darkness like an owl's would. "Not for myself, I don't care about myself, but what about my family, what about Ginny? She's at Hogwarts, she's with Snape of all people, and Merlin only knows how long that ghoul-with-spattergroit ruse is going to hold out, it's a miracle it worked at all - and they're already being tracked by the Ministry, it's only a matter of time-" He broke off suddenly, swallowing thickly. "Sorry, I know you don't want to hear about all of this-"

"Yes, I do!" It was the most conversation they had shared in days. "I really, really do. And I'm scared for them too, but - we've already got a job to do here, Ron."

"Yeah. I know." His voice had become low, clipped, and he began digging out that hole in the dirt again. "Look, go inside, get warm, there's no use in both of us getting ill from this. You're not even wearing shoes," he added with a touch of amusement.

Hermione let out a breath around chattering teeth. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, really. Go on."

"And you're sure you're okay?" she asked, hoping he picked up on the subtext of her question: that she'd stay if he wasn't.

"Yeah," he said in resignation. "I'll be here."

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