A/N: More!

No Snape in this chapter, but lots of Harry. I could call this chapter, "In which Harry is nice again and Hermione feels like a right douchebag". But I won't, because among other reasons, it doesn't fit in nicely with the little Billy Joel Song thing I've got going.

Also, Ron is a tool.

A note on scene breaks: WickedlyWanton mentioned that the POV switching should be split up with some sort of scene breaks. I'm not a terrible writer or anything… I really was inserting breaks, I just reflexively use asterisks, and continue to this day to forget that doesn't recognize them anymore. For whatever stupid reason that may be. So now I've replaced my little stars with some nice ghost noises (oooOOOoo…). Hopefully I've caught them all.

Thanks guys for reviewing! And to those of you that didn't… I see you. You show up in my stats window. So thanks for reading.

I promise there is oodles of Snape in the next chapter. Things start rolling after this one.

Love.

-N

PS: I really love Charlie Weasley. More than pretty much anything.

Chapter 5

So I will share this room with you

And you can have this heart to break

Hermione knew something was wrong the moment she stepped past the wards and through the front door of Grimmauld Place. The house was deathly still, and the air felt stale and murky. Heart pounding with unnatural force and head filling with thoughts of a conspiracy orchestrated by Malfoy and Snape, Hermione pulled her wand and tore up the stairs as quickly as her feet would allow. How could I have BEEN so stupid?

She came to an abrupt stop when she slammed into something solid at the top of the third flight of stairs. Thinking she was going to lose her footing and plummet backwards, Hermione was surprised when she stayed perfectly upright, held at the shoulders by a grip like a vice. She looked up at her rescuer.

"Ron," she sighed, relief at his quick reflexes flooding through her. Still gripping her shoulders, he picked her up ever-so-slightly and turned around so that she was no longer perched on her toes on the top step. "Thanks," Hermione said, moderately embarrassed at having to be manhandled. Thank goodness it was only Ron.

"Where've you been?" He asked in a quiet voice, before shaking his head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter… I'm glad you're back, and safe."

That set off all sorts of alarms; Ron for once using an indoor voice, Ron not caring where she'd been, Ron acting serious… Hermione felt the terror grip her again. "What's wrong?" she asked plainly, catching his eye and keeping it. "What happened, Ron?"

"Harry and Charlie… they went."

Hermione didn't bother containing her surprise. "To Azkaban? Already? I thought Harry would have at least let me know…"

Ron shook his head. "You know Harry. And Harry knows you, and he knows he never would have gotten you to stay behind. Or me, for that matter. It's lucky he told us about the plan at all." A shadow crossed over Ron's face. "They're back now, but Hermione… it's bad…"

This wasn't happening. Were both Harry and Charlie in serious danger? "Tell me," she said firmly. Ron just shook his head.

"I don't know what there is to tell… Charlie seems to be tired, but all right. But Harry… I've never seen him like this. He's shaking and crying and so, so cold… Charlie hasn't let him go since they got back, Harry won't let anyone else near."

"Did they get the Horcrux?"

"Yes." Ron looked perplexed, perhaps that Hermione was thinking about Horcruxes while Harry was suffereing.

"What is it?" She asked tremulously.

"I don't know… I didn't bother with that right away, seeing as Harry was so…"

"Where is he?" Hermione demanded, and Ron simply pointed to one of the rooms down the hall, the room where his second oldest brother stayed when he was at Grimmauld Place. Hermione charged the door.

Charlie was sitting in the middle of the large four-poster, wrapped so completely around Harry that Hermione could only tell their limbs apart from the freckles. The Dragon tamer was rocking his solid frame back and forth, one callused hand running endlessly through the shock of raven hair. Harry's face was contorted with the most pained, horrific expression Hermione had ever seen on anyone. He didn't appear to be awake, or, if he was, he was not consciously so. She felt her heart contracting within her chest.

"My God," she whispered, moving towards the bed. "Charlie, what…"

The second Weasley boy looked over at her and it was clear to see that he had been crying. He continued to rock the Boy Who Lived back and forth as he shook his head at Hermione.

"He has so much pain," Charlie whispered, sounding as though he felt it himself. It was not the first time Hermione had wondered whether the Dragon tamer had a touch of Empathic power. Her heart went out to him. "He hides it so thoroughly, all the time, but they can tell. They use it against him."

"They?" Hermione asked, and then immediately answered herself. "The Dementors."

Charlie nodded slightly. "His own pain. The only weapon I can think of that would be this effective against him." She saw the older man shudder at the thought. "they wield it so efficiently."

Hermione frowned. "He's always been particularly vulnerable to them, and I can definitely see why, but… it's never been like this." The look in Charlie's eyes was one she didn't think she'd seen before, and yet it was familiar, in a way… it took her a few seconds to realize that she'd seen a similar look in the eyes of Sirius Black, of Bellatrix Lestrange, of everyone she'd met who'd ever been in Azkaban. "Is it that bad?" She whispered, terrified that she already knew the answer.

"Worse," Charlie said quietly. "You have no idea, Hermione, the things that are there. Things no being, human or not, should ever have to see. It is… a madhouse, a prison, a death camp. And the Dementors… there are so many of them, I hadn't even realized that there could be that many. They target those whose magic is the strongest… and as you know, Harry is not exactly a lightweight." Charlie lowered his face into the raven hair and buried it there, both giving and seeking comfort, and Hermione suddenly felt like she was intruding on an intensely private moment. "I'm amazed he lasted long enough to find the thing and get out. I thought for a moment that he wouldn't. I think the only reason either of us managed is that we could distract them from each other. But they still went for Harry more than me."

Hermione wanted to reach out for Harry, do something— anything— to comfort him, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do it. She backed away slowly, her eyes on her two friends as she retreated. "Let me know when he's better, Charlie," she said quietly, and then slipped out through the door before he could reply.

Ron was waiting for her in the hall, a questioning look on his face. She met his eyes and shook her head. "I don't want to talk, okay Ron?" He nodded dutifully. Hermione made her way up to her their room and threw herself on the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to imagine that the inconsistent white was all she could see, all she would ever see from that moment on. She went on that way, steadily terrifying herself , until Ron came in a half-hour later (thinking, she supposed, that he had given her enough time to get over what was troubling her). He didn't speak to her, simply lay down next to her on the mattress and molded his body against hers. His arms went around her with a familiarity that almost brought tears to her eyes, and she found herself sinking into the comforting embrace.

"I know," Ron murmured softly into her hair, "It's hard to see him like this."

Hermione was no longer thinking of Harry. "It is," she whispered before falling into a fitful sleep.

ooooOOOOoooo

It was already the next day when Charlie came to find them. Hermione rose from the bed, still in yesterday's clothes, almost as soon as the door opened. Charlie took one look at his sleeping brother and mouthed "Leave him be". Hermione nodded and followed the older Weasley into the hallway.

"Is he okay?" She asked, the old concern flooding back to her. Charlie nodded. He looked exhausted, worse that she'd ever seen him.

"We were up half the night… it was bad, Hermione, but we got through it, and now he's awake and lucid and asking for you and Ron. He still seems really drained, try not to be too alarmed." Hermione raised an eyebrow at that and followed Charlie down the hall. It must have truly been awful if he was warning her.

Harry was propped up against the headboard surrounded by a thick duvet and about a million pillows. His robes had been changed, and he looked to have showered. His glasses had slipped down his nose as he wrote carefully in some sort of journal. He looked up as they entered and Hermione felt a shock.

"Hey," He said, his voice sounding weary and more than a little hoarse. "Like the new look?" He turned his head further, showing off. The hair on the side of his head that had been facing away from them was completely, perfectly white, from Harry's temple to the top of his forehead.

"My God, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, stepping closer to the bed. Harry just laughed, although all three of them knew there wasn't much humor behind it.

"It's not that bad, really. All the most respected wizards have had white hair, after all." Hermione smiled indulgently at his joke. Charlie moved to stand beside her, closer to the foot of the bed.

"I think it looks kind of cool, actually," he said, sounding sincere. "Not that you needed another trademark, but…"

"It's better than a new scar," Harry finished with a slightly sarcastic smile at the other man. "Well, I think it's sort of muggle superhero-ish, which I suppose is worth it just for the irony," he said, fingering the shock lock contemplatively. Hermione actually laughed sincerely at this.

"If they're going to treat you like one, you might as well look the part," she said, feeling more at ease with the joking. She perched herself on a corner of the mattress and took one of Harry's hands. "You're sure you're feeling all right?"

"I don't really want to talk about it just yet," Harry said, with that young, scared look he sometimes got, "But yes, I'm fine."

"All right, we don't have to talk about it at all if you don't want. At least not until you've gotten out of bed," she said with a subdued smile. "But Harry… I wanted you to know that I was really scared, and worried, but I understand why you did it the way you did, and I'm just happy you're back in one piece and everything is going to be okay." Harry took her hands and met her eye with that level, all-knowing gaze of his. It wasn't the first time that Hermione had felt like he was looking right through her, and although she believed he would never use Occlumency on her without permission (she wasn't even sure he could), she did her best to clear her mind, well aware that some of her thoughts would cause both of them more trouble than they already had. But Harry just nodded at her, and squeezed her hands in his.

"I know, Hermione. I know how much you and Ron both care about me, and I know that sometimes the stress that we're all feeling gets in the way of our friendship. And I know that I sometimes act suspicious of you, but you have to understand that I sometimes transfer my feelings towards other people and situations onto those closest to me. I wanted to apologize to you, because I think you've felt it more than others, and without reason. I'm sorry, Hermione. You and Ron are my best friends, I… I hope you both know that." Hermione was spared to trouble of digging through her endless guilt for something acceptable to say when Harry asked, "Where IS Ron anyhow?"

"Still sleeping," Said Charlie, who had moved towards the doorway without either of them noticing. "I'll go get him." Harry's eyes remained on the open doorway long after Charlie had left through it.

When Ron arrived, Harry promptly showed him his new hairdo. Ron announced, after a moment's silence, that it was in fact quite wicked, and then climbed onto the bed with Harry and began to discuss various distracting things until the mood in the room seemed to have permanently lifted. Hermione found herself cheering slightly in spite of her own worries, and she was again grateful to Ron for his inate ability to be the kind of friend Harry so desperately needed, the kind that she, despite her best efforts, could not be.

oooOOOooo

The owl came that night, while Ron was visiting Harry in his room and Hermione was getting ready to sleep. This time she cast the revealing spell right away, anxious to read the words that she knew would appear on the parchment. Her chest constricted slightly as she watched the tight, familiar script appear.

Miss Granger,

Contrary to the demands of one Draco Malfoy, I do not require your assistance. Nor do I expect it. The same can be said for your trust. In fact, you would prove yourself more foolish than I have ever thought you to be, were you to freely offer either one. Of all people, I am the least likely to presume to order you to give your trust to anyone, least of all a person whom you have no reason to believe is worthy of it.

If I promise to banish Mr. Malfoy from the premises, will you return?

Hermione released a breath that she was not aware she'd been holding. Snape was asking to see her again. Part of her was shocked at his audacity. The rest was shocked that he had not simply assumed she would return regardless of his asking, as she always had. She crossed the room to her secretary desk and took out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill.

I will, she wrote hastily. Nervously, and as quickly as possible, she tied the parchment in a scroll and passed it to the owl, who this time had remained sitting on her windowsill. He took off immediately when she passed him the rolled parchment, and Hermione swung the window closed, watching as the black spot disappeared into the sky. She balled up the note, which had gone blank once more, and threw it into the fire. She was still staring into the flames when Ron came into the room five minutes later and pulled her along with him into their bed.

oooOOOooo

She was facing outwards into the room, laying resolutely still on her side of the mattress. Her body was exhausted, yet needy, and as she turned her face into her pillow she was reminded of her need for release by the smell of their lovemaking. She hadn't come in days. Ron had however, just recently in fact, and that was a blessed relief, because if he was physically sated, at least he would be moderately silent.

"Hermione…" Maybe not. She turned over with a feeling of frustration and foreboding. Ron never wanted to talk afterwards, and she felt a slightly sick feeling as she wondered what he wanted now.

"Ron, it's two thirty… I have errands to do tomorrow, can't it wait?"

Ron just laughed gently and cupped her face with one hand, staring at her in the pallid moonlight. "I'd say it's waited long enough. There's something I need to say."

Hermione sighed inwardly and put on a small smile. "Alright then, if you must."

Ron propped himself up on one elbow. "Hermione, we've been doing this for the past two years, and those two years have been the happiest of my life. I've never once regretted anything in that entire time except that I didn't let you know how I felt about you sooner, when we were in school. With what happened to Harry the other day… I was reminded of how important the time we have is. And I don't want to waste any more of it than I already have in letting you know exactly how I feel about you." Hermione shook her head.

"Ron… I know how you feel about me."

"Yes, but…" Ron swallowed nervously, "I want to prove it to you, so that there'll never be a doubt in your mind. I love you, Hermione, and I always will. And lately, things have been so good between us that it's made me think about, well, you know…"

"No, I don't," Hermione said with the horrible feeling that she did.

"Well, the future. I want to spend every minute of it with you. Hermione…" Ron fumbled with something behind him on the dresser, and Hermione felt her heart thumping relentlessly inside her chest. Ron turned back to her and looked deep into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Hermione stomach churned slightly, and she tried her best not to grimace. "Er… that is…" She took a deep, steadying breath. "This is very unexpected." Ron nodded, looking down at the ring he still clutched in his hands. Hermione looked at it as well. She knew Ron could ill afford something like that and must have been saving for months, and yet she was far from feeling any sort of gratitude. Ron reached up with one hand to caress her face.

"I understand that it's a big decision, and that I've had time to make it, and now I have to live with the fact that you're going to need time as well. You don't have to answer. Just know that, whenever you're ready to say yes, all you have to do is say it. And take as long as you need."

Oh Ron, Hermione thought silently, You really have grown up at last. She wished she could give him the thing that he wanted, but there was no way. How could she ever be true to Ron when there was another man there in the room with them, living inside her head?