Last night was the worst night of my life.

I drifted out of consciousness, stretched out along the bench outside the hospital wing. Ginny sat near my head, stroking my shoulder absentmindly. Harry leaned against the cool brick on floor, his dress robes flopped around him in a dishevelled mess.

We waited.

I only left once. To the loo. To wash Hermione's blood off my arm.

And then we waited some more.

Professor McGonagall came down about an hour after it happened, looking exhausted. She simply smiled at us sadly before proceeding into the wing. Professor Snape emerged and left, without acknowledging our prescene.

I didn't know if she was dying. I didn't know if I'd ever get to tell her everything she knows.

My head was pounding and the light streaming through the early morning windows were straining my eyes. Harry was fast asleep, snoring lightly with his cloak balled up like a pillow behind his head. Ginny had left after McGonagall came out, escorting her to her office to answer some questions and gather some of Hermione's things.

"To make her stay more comfortable," was all she said.

Which gave me little to zero indication about how she was. Where McClaggen was. What he did to her.

The creaking of the gigantic, ancient hospital wing doors brought me to my full category of consciousness. A tired Madam Pomfrey emerged, holding a teacup in one hand and smiling at me gently.

"Ah, Weasley. Still here I see?"

"Yes. How is she? Is she okay? What happened?" I fired off, stopping right in front of her and trying to see around her into the long and narrow wing.

"Easy, Weasley. She is fine. She's awake now," she told me calmly. She put an oddly comforting arm on my elbow, throwing a quick look at the drooling Harry on the floor, before gesturing towards the door.

"Can I see her?" I blurted out.

Does she even want to see me? We haven't talked in months. She's so mad at me. I was supposed to go to that party with her. None of this would have happened. She wouldn't have been...

The look on my face may have given away the way my gut dropped to my knee caps.

"She was not ... violated, Mr. Weasley," said the nurse, gauging my reaction. "Her worst injury was the head wound. I've patched her all up."

"What did he do to her? Why wasn't she waking up?" I asked her, feeling my chest swell in relief however, still haunted by the memory of her broken and lifeless body.

"He slipped a very potent potion into her drink at the party, so we've gathered. One that should lower inhibitions and basically knock her unconscious thereafter. She is very weak from the after effects and will have to be here for some time but you Weasleys arrived at a good time," she said, smiling gravely at me.

"Where is he?" My blood was boiling.

"Let the professors handle this situation, Ron," She scoulded. I couldn't help but notice she didn't refer to me by last name, like every other time we had been thrown together.

"Right now," she continued, "There is a poorly young lady in there who needs her best friend."

Her best friend.

Harry? Whose knocked out on the floor?

Ginny?

Me?

Madam Pomfrey patted my arm maternally before moving around me and down the hall. I was shell-shocked for a moment, about why she was leaving before she said to me, "I am meeting with the Heads of House to brief them about Miss. Granger's condition. I should be back within the half-hour. Can you stay with her?

She did not wait for an answer. She merely smirked at me with a knowing gaze. She stopped a moment later.

"Oh, and Weasley?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Leave Potter sleep. Use this opportunity to speak with her privately." She simply said before continuning on the abandoned corridor.

What?

Talk to her about what? The fact that I've never been more scared in my entire life? The fact that I almost thought she died? That I can still feel her lifeless weight against my chest?

Should I talk to her about how I am madly in love with her and last night only made me realize it?

Probably not. She might hex me. Or send more bloody canaries.

My inner battle was ended to a rapid halt, as I had pushed open the door to the infirmary full, without thinking much.

My heart stopped, but not out of fear this time. My breath was cut short, my pulse quickened, my muscles quaked still; all out of the sheer immensity of the beauty I could see, curled up in a ball on the window sill.

She had a thick soft blanket wrapped around her. The contrast startled me, between the cacoon I had created around her last night with my black cloak to the way she'd nestled herself now.

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her fringe hanging across her forehead which was leaning against the cool morning window. Her arms were around her knee with a tea cup identical to the one Madam Pomfrey was holding resting next to her.

She looked breath-taking.

As the sound of my footsteps in the echoing hall, she lifted her head around to look at me and we made eye contact for the first time in months.

She didn't look upset or angry with me. She didn't look embarassed or mortified at the situation she had found herself in. There is no look at resentment.

Her shoulders dropped from the tense grip around her knees and her head cocked in my direction.

She looked ... calm.

"Hey," I said with a small smile.

Hey? She hasn't spoken to you in months and all you can say is 'hey'?

"Hi," she responds coyly as I walk closer to her.

"How ... er... how are you feeling?" I ask her, awkwardly perching myself on the foot of the bed in the last row, closest to her window.

With the sunlight streaming on her face, I could see her light breakmark on her cheek. I could see the honey colored tones in her hair and the warm undertone to her skin.

"I'm okay," she reassured me with a small shrug. But I could see her fingers grip her quilt more tightly around her. Protectively.

"That's good," I nod, ever the awkward bloke. She nodded too, odding me slightly suspciously. However, she says nothing more. She's waiting for me to continue.

"So, err... Ginny's gone to get you some clothes and things. Probably your books. I know you'll want some books," I tell her, rubbing my balms along the thighs of my jeans.

From the way I'm sitting, I can see blood on my shoes. Her blood.

"Um, I told her to get that big, blue jumper you always wear because I know that's your favorite," I mumble, feeling my throat begin to constrict. I can't bear to look in her eyes

The blood from her head as she was strewn across the dark staircase landing, waiting for that bastard to almost rape her, without being able to protect herself. Or defend herself.

"Madam Pomfrey didn't say how long you'll stay here but um... I figured you want that. I... er... I'm sure you'll be out in no time."

"Ron," she breathed quietly but I could stop talking.

"And Harry's here. He's passed outside like a nutter. He's snoring up a storm," I tried to chuckle whilst I made a joke but a tear had already leaked out and was making it's way south down my freckled cheek.

"Ron," she said again, this time with a choked sigh that told me she was close to or already crying.

And I looked up because the thought of her crying was too much to bear.

We were both up and moving towards each other the moment our eyes locked. When her body finally lined up with mine, arms tightly around my waist, I lost it.

"'Mione," I breathed, gripping her as tightly as I could without brusing her. I could feel her crying and I was crying and her hair smelled so good but her hair was soaked in blood yesterday and I have her blood on my shoe and Lavender but she fits so good against me and she's hugging me back.

"I've never been so scared," I whispered into her curls. She said nothing, just clutched me tighter.

"Are you okay? Are you genuinely okay? Did he hurt you?" I demanded, not loosening my hold but pulling my face back far enough to see hers.

Her beautiful brown eyes were watery and red but she let out a gentle sigh.

"I'm physically fine. My pride is bruised, more than anything," She mumbled, looking up at me sadly.

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione. This is all my fault," I caught myself saying before I could stop it. I didn't want to bring this up, but it was coming out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"How on earth..." She began but I cut her off in my rush.

"I was dumb. God, I was so dumb," I whispered, brushing back her bridge to see her eyes better. "I promised you I would go to the party with you and I fucked it all up."

For once, she didn't criticize me for my use of foul language.

"I don't blame you. Ron," she said in a accepting tone. She took a step back, holding onto both of my arms. "You saved my life, last night."

"Ginny found you," I mumbled, feeling worthless.

"But I heard you talk to me. You brought me here," she encouraged, ducking down to meet my defeated gaze.

"But I didn't protect you," I whispered, running a finger along her cheek to catch some deposited tears.

"It's not your job to protect me," she said strongly, reaching down to adjust her blanket which was still around her shoulders.

"You are my best friend, Hermione. I know we haven't talked for a few months and I know I was rude and callous to you. I know I hurt you. But ... you were so still, Hermione. I thought you were dead."

She took a breath in sharply, staring down at the stone floor between our feet.

"I just ... I miss you so much," I finally told her.

"Oh Ron," she breathed, reaching to hug me again.

"I thought you were going to die before I could tell you how sorry I am. I thought you were gone before I could tell you how I'm sorry I'm with Lavender. I wanted to be with you at that party last night, Hermione. I really did. Please believe me," I whispered into her hair.

"I do," she pulled back again, wiping a tear with her fingers. "I do."

She shook her head slowly, before stepping out of my reach to pluck some tissues from the box on the night stand. She handed me one with a smile that caused us both to blush as we dried our faces.

"Look, I'm the one in the hospital wing and you're the one who needs consoling," she said with a small laugh.

I stuck my tongue out at her playfully.

"Did Miss Granger just make a joke?" I said astonished, dodging her hand that I knew would come to punch me in the shoulder.

Just like old times.

Laughing, I put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back into a hug.

"Can I ask you something?" she mumbled against my t-shirt.

What is she going to ask?

Please review with guesses :) xoxo