a/n: Another from my Random Romione Rambling collection. This too is unedited and I apologise for any typos/grammar errors you find.

Ron opened his eyes hours later to a silent, dimly lit room. As he lay still, soaking in the quiet of the infirmary, he realised his brain was still a little fuzzy. Thankfully, the strange buzzing in his ears he had woken up with the first time had lessened, although the bitter aftertaste of the potion Madam Pomfrey had fed him still persisted. He was only wondering if his limbs would cooperate this time when a soft sob broke in internal musings.

He'd know that sound anywhere- she was there.

The infirmary was lit with the softest of lights, and yet somehow he could see her clearly. The robe had been discarded but other than that she was still in her school uniform, perhaps she had come down after the last patrol? Her messy curls looked as if she had not bothered to comb through, while slumped shoulders shook with the softest of whimpers. And despite her dishevelled appearance, Ron couldn't tear his eyes off her form- she was the most beautiful thing he had seen in… well… a great many months. As much as he hated when she cried, worse when it was because of something he had done, he was really glad to find her next to him. Unless… she was a vision… born out of his deepest desires. He continued to watch her, trying hard to not to blink, dreading every second that the vision would disappear if he looked away.

As his eyes got more accustomed to the lack of light, he could see her better, notice every little detail. Was it possible for a vision to be so ...accurate? Her cheeks were just the perfect shade, although it appeared paler in a tired sort of way. She looked smaller than ever, hunched at the very edge of his bed, head bent low. He noticed her ink-stained fingers as she swiped a hand over her face, wiping off the moisture, gaze fixed on, what he could only assume, was his hand.

Despite all the little things that pointed out that Hermione had indeed sneaked into the infirmary to visit him, he was still scared to hope she was anything more than his brains playing tricks. Perhaps it was more addled than he had thought earlier. Hermione, he reckoned sadly, would never come to see him in the dead of the night, nor cry over him after the utter mess they had made of their life, their friendship… and whatever it was that truly defined his relationship with her. He didn't deserve it anymore.

But, he thought, the twins had mentioned her, and Harry, of course. They had visited him before he regained consciousness. But it had to be hours ago. He didn't have the faintest clue how long he had slept but it was definitely past midnight, already; she wasn't even supposed to be outside the Gryffindor Common Room at this hour.

Could she come back for him? Break school rules? He knew, his Hermione would… She'd stay outside the doors of the infirmary, magic them open against the rules if she really wanted to see him…

He lifted his hand without conscious thought and was both surprised and immensely relieved when his fingers felt soft skin instead of vapour.

Hermione let out a small gasp, her bloodshot eyes meet his, and Ron held his breath while she placed her hand gingerly over his.

Her touch was everything.

Gently, he swiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb, and she let out another whimper. Suddenly she flung her arms around his shoulders and collapsed on his chest, muffled sobs reaching right to his heart, while her tears stained his shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to himself until she was practically lying on top of him. Ron inhaled deeply, breathing in her familiar fragrance, reminding himself that it wasn't just a dream, not this time.

It felt like coming up for air after a long dive, like being found after being lost for an eternity. It felt like finding where he truly belonged- like coming home after a long, perilous journey.

At some point his fingers entangled in her hair as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, their breaths coming in tandem like the ebb and flow of a sea that covers miles to find the shore. Slowly the intensity of her sobs ebbed, but Ron held her on.

They had hugged before, they were best friends after all, but ever since he'd realised he fancied her, his teenage heart had dreamt up thousands if not a million scenarios where Hermione ran into his arms. But, lying together in a dark, silent hospital bed, after a close brush with death, Ron figured he had never truly understood before today what it meant to have her in his arms.

He had no clue how long they remained that way- entwined in each other, it could have been hours and yet, when she pulled her arms away and pushed herself up, it felt way too soon.

Disentangling herself from his embrace, she perched herself at the edge of his bed, her legs folded under her, her expressions unreadable. For a minute there, he was worried she'd leave without a word, but when she continued to watch him, he sighed in relief and scooted aside to give her more space.

For the first time in months, there was a comfortable silence between them. He had expected both of them to be awkward after that hug, but somehow it felt natural. How was that even possible?

Hermione looked exhausted, and his heart cursed himself for everything he was putting her through - had been putting her through these few months. He managed to push himself into a sitting position and her knees nudged his thighs. Hermione didn't move away, nor scooted. It was almost unbelievable that she was next to him, alone. Only now he truly grasped what was missing from his life, how sorely he'd been missing a crucial part of himself.

Unable to phrase his thoughts in words, he continued to soak in the warmth of her presence. It had been way too long since they sat at such close proximity, way too long since he had seen her properly. Up close he could see those freckles that peppered the bridge of her nose, the tear-stained face and eyes that seemed to have spent many nights without proper sleep.

"I hate you…" she said hoarsely after a long moment, and despite all the hurt, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard- she was speaking to him.

"I know…" he confessed, throat still aching as he spoke. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, pooling over with fresh tears and lips quivered as if to say something else before she looked away with a huff.

"And I am still not talking to you…" she added, looking at the bed adjacent to his. There was more sadness in those words than anger.

"I know that too…" he replied. Did she know how hopelessly he was in love with her? Did she know she held all his dreams, all his hopes? Perhaps she did, perhaps she didn't…

This time she let out a sound of extreme frustration and turned around to face him properly. Pulling her knees close to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. She seemed to be struggling to reign in her emotions and trying to find words adequate enough to express her indignation at the same time.

She was barmy but he was barmy about her. Who was he kidding, he'd never get over her no matter how much he tried. After all, that's what he had been doing all these months, trying to curb his feelings for her, trying to give up his hopes of being loved by her. But it was a stupid attempt. In the end, he knew, he'd swap snogging to bickering with her any day- unless, she was the one he was snogging, obviously...

He looked away quickly. He couldn't think of snogging now, no matter how much he wanted to. She was much too close, the wait incredibly long already. And most of all, there were a lot many webs that had to be untangled first. Most importantly, he couldn't afford to give her any more reasons to be mad at him.

Maybe Hermione didn't appreciate him, maybe she didn't think he wasn't brave enough or good enough, but he couldn't stop loving her like he did, insanely, irrevocably. He was long past that point.

"I was so scared…" she said at long last, biting her bottom lip as a fat tear rolled down and she hastily wiped it away.

"I'm sorry…"

She rested her head on her knees and began tracing patterns on the bed as she spoke.

"Every year, we fear losing Harry to Voldemort… And I know, if such a time comes, you'll stand before him and … death... And…" she sucked in a breath as he continued to watch mesmerised, "-as much as I know it, it never fails to scare the life out of me… today… yesterday, I mean, I realised… how… how …" She buried her face into her arms, unable to go on, and Ron placed his hand gently on her wrist.

"I'm okay… and ...I'm sorry…"

"What are you sorry for?" she asked, voiced muffled, "You didn't get poisoned by choice,"

"No," he replied, "but I'm sorry for all the stress I caused,"

She lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes. His heart, Ron was sure, skiped quite a few beats.

"You apologise for something you couldn't help, but you…" she paused and looked away. "How could you, Ron?" she asked after a while, and even with a fuzzy brain, he didn't need her to explain what she was talking about.

He had temporarily forgotten all about Lavender. With her memories came guilt. He let go of Hermione's wrist and fisted his fingers to curb the urge of holding her again. Why the fuck had he messed up his life so much?

"Months, Ron? Months and months…" she added and shook her head sadly before turning away from him. She let out a sigh of indignation and made to leave the bed; Ron caught her arm instinctively, half-formed words hanging from his lips.

"Please…" he begged, not knowing what else to say.

It had seemed right at that moment.

Lavender had taken the step he and Hermione never could manage. The day he found out about Krum had been his worst ever. His morale had hit an all-time low. His brain had convinced him that what he desired would never come to fruition. She didn't even trust his abilities as a Keeper, how would she trust him with her heart? And then he had found the admiration in Lavender's eyes, the one that he had craved from Hermione since a time he couldn't even remember. And, he was a sixteen-year-old bloke with raging hormones, for Merlin sake! It was all so easy to get carried away. Lavender liked him. There was no competition, no need to prove himself. But no matter how many hours he spent snogging Lavender, Hermione was almost always at the back of his mind; she was the one who ruled his thoughts, crept into his dreams. And that had never changed. In hindsight, he was being unfair to both the girls, one who he was with but didn't fancy, the other he was barmy about but couldn't confess.

"It doesn't matter to you, does it? Our friendship...My fe-" she stopped abruptly and wiped her eyes on the back of the sleeve of her free hand.

"-you know that's not true, Hermione," he interjected, grabbing her hand harder. He considered it a good sign that she wasn't pulling away. Blimey, this girl could turn his world upside down, hurt him or heal him, but she'd still be his world.

Hermione however, unaware of his internal musings, laughed bitterly. "I don't know, do I, Ron?" she paused, turning sideways to look deeply into his eyes, searching. "I really thought I knew, y'know…" she added softly, sadly.

Ron pushed aside the lingering doubt forcefully as he tugged on her arm, forcing her to turn completely towards him. He took her hands in his, covering her fingers with his long ones. He might have had to face a near-death experience, but life had given him a second chance, and he wasn't going to blow it this time.

"Hermione, I … I was mad…" he managed.

He had come to see her reasons a long time ago. It had been the same with her, hadn't it? After all, she said as much during their infamous row after the Yule Ball... She had been waiting for him and the dickhead that he was, he hadn't even realised. Krum had just taken the initiative like Lavender had.

"You were mad?! About what, may I ask? And okay, alright, you were mad about something I did, but how was I to know if you didn't tell me? I deserved to know, didn't I?" she said in a breath. She tried freeing her hands to wipe her tears away but Ron beat her to it, wiping the moisture off tenderly from both her cheeks. Some drops still clung to her lashes, candlelight glinting off them.

"I deserved to know too, Hermione…" he explained softly, "-from you… not Harry and certainly not from Ginny…"

He saw realisation hit her as she gaped at him for one solid minute before averting her eyes.

"W-what are you talking about?" Well, she just had to challenge him, didn't she? Of course, she did.

"Never mind…" he replied, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and tracing the fine veins with his fingers. On a normal day, he would've spent hours gathering enough courage to touch her in a friendly way. But tonight something had changed within him. Maybe it was the aftereffect of almost dying? Maybe it made people braver? Bolder realising that, without his friend's timely action, he'd have lost the chance of baring his heart to her, forever?

"Oh come on!" she cried, tired of his silence perhaps, and he hushed her before both of them turned towards the nurse's chamber simultaneously. Hermione pulled out her wand from her pocket and cast a Muffliato. Ron grinned to himself but let it slide.

Finally, she turned towards him again. "I had made up my mind- wasn't going to talk to you ever." Her voice cracked. "I'm tired, Ron!" she continued anyway, "I'm just exhausted trying to figure out what I could've possibly done to deserve getting a cold shoulder from you when… when we… when everything was... fine between us! And then... then you …" she pulled her hand out of his and folded them at her chest. "I hate you…" she stated but with little conviction.

"Deserve it too…"

She glared at him hard, and Ron couldn't help smile at the familiar sight. Carefully, he pried her arms apart and took them in his larger ones, rubbing the pad of his thumbs over her open palms, tracing the many crisscrossing lines. Trelawney once told them that the lines on the palm described one's future. He didn't really believe her unless she was in one of her trances, but tonight he found himself wondering if his fate lines intersected with hers at some point in their lives.

"I'm sorry, Hermione... for everything… " he said, "I didn't really have the right to be upset… It's just that…"

"What was it, Ron?" she asked, words laced with exhaustion and pain.

He looked at her, weighing his options. He'd perhaps never get another chance like this, with just the two of them. He focused on her hands while he spoke. He could do with a gulp of water but it had to wait.

"Harry and I caught Ginny and Dean snogging… And I got mad at her and…" he glanced at Hermione who was watching him, brows furrowed, " y'know… never mind... forget it..."

"Ron!"

He sighed and began again, forcing himself to finish. "And Ginny said… you … you snogged Krum…" he noticed her fluster and spoke quickly, eager to get over the conversation. "I-I know I've no right to be upset but…" She inhaled sharply and tried pulling her hands away but he held on. He had more to say, much to explain. "I just… y'know...expected you to tell me yourself…"

"Well, Ron…" she paused and cleared her throat, "You've paid me back in kind, haven't you?" she whispered while her voice shook and eyes pooled again. " -by snogging her in front of me, for weeks… How would you feel if I did the same?"

His grip on her arms hardened and she winced and he quickly let go.

"Sorry…" he said again. He had thought about that too. As mad as he was to know after two whole years that Krum had snogged her, it would be nothing compared to the pain of seeing them in the act. He'd have murdered that bloke, or died. Perhaps both. "This isn't a competition…" he replied at last. He thought of the troll McLaggan she had invited to Slughorn's party but decided not to bring him up. He traced his finger tenderly over her knuckles; he couldn't explain it but he seemed to need her touch.

"It isn't?" she asked.

"C'mon, Hermione! I...I didn't hide or lie..."

"No, Ron, you didn't lie. Just rubbed it on my face!" she cried, this time succeeding in pulling her hands from his. "I was fourteen, Ron! He was the one guy who asked me, and not just as a last resort because the 'good ones' were gone!"

Ron cringed. "'M not denying I was a prat!" he replied, his throat aching with the effort but ignoring it. "And neither am I blaming you for it," he added softly. "I was barking mad at first but that's not your problem... Just sayin' you could've told me at least, couldn't you? You told Ginny!"

Hermione averted his eyes, sheepish, and her reply lacked the bite from earlier "And you'd have been very understanding, wouldn't you, Ron?" she asked quietly.

He avoided that question. "You told Harry too," he said instead.

"That's just not the same…"

"Really, why, I wonder..." he whispered, but she heard him anyway and turned around on him.

"You still wonder why?!" she huffed, shook her head exasperatedly and got off the bed. "I'm leaving. This is a useless argument... You'll be out of the hospital and go back to eating her face in front of everyone again, anyway..." she muttered as she dusted the back of her skirt.

"No, I won't…" She paused in her step and turned once again to face him.

"Don't tell me you are tired of snogging her?"

"It just wasn't about snogging…" She laughed derisively. "Okay, it was a fair bit about snogging…" he added and she scoffed. "-but she liked me for who I am… she didn't think I was useless…"

Her expression changed from shock to disbelief to hurt in a matter of seconds.

"You… You think I consider you useless?! Are you absolutely crazy?!"

"You don't?"

She gave him the same look McGonagall gave the Slytherin trolls, Crabbe and Goyle, and then muttered furiously to herself as she hopped off the bed and began searching for something among his blankets, perhaps her robes.

"Can't hear you," he stated.

"I've to leave," she replied in a flat voice and continued rummaging through the tangled blankets.

"You've been here for a while, surely you can stay a little longer,"

She stopped her search and took two measured steps towards him. "I just came here to see if you are okay," she said, absentmindedly setting his bedsheet straight. "I should leave now…"

"Why did you break the rules for me, Hermione?" he asked suddenly.

He was expecting her to leave his question unanswered again but surprising him as only Hermione could, she came further ahead to stand next to his bed.

"Don't ask questions that can't- shouldn't - be answered," she replied sadly, looking unseeing at the many potion bottles Madame Pomfrey had left on the table. Who knew what thoughts were running through that brilliant head of hers? But her expressions softened after a while and so did her tone when she finally spoke.

"Maybe you'll never understand, Ron…And maybe, I'm okay with it..."

"Why can't you explain?"

"I've tried… you just don't want to see… I can't- can't be upfront like ...others… or say it on your face, there is so much at risk... doesn't mean I don't…"

She came closer to arranged his fringe out of his eyes and placed her hand tenderly on his cheek and wiped off the dried traces of potion from the edge of his lips with the pad of her thumb. Ron grabbed her hand at her wrist; his heart was surely going a thousand miles an hour. He tugged on her arm and she was suddenly back on the bed, their faces so close he could make out the dry tear patches on her cheeks, he could count every freckle on her nose, see how pretty her eyes were, admire the way her dark lashes curled upwards, he could see the moisture glint off her lips...

"You know we can't… There is too much-" Her voice was a murmur, reaching his heart.

"-on the line?" he whispered just as quietly.

She smiled sadly, "Yes, and it's not fair… to any of us…"

"Then we've got to set it right, don't we?"

She didn't reply.

"'Ermione…" he called, her name rolling off his lips carrying all the emotions he had yet to confess, and her eyes looked up and met his, a thousand unspoken words visible in those brilliant brown orbs of hers.

"I'll make it all okay… I promise…"

"You will?" The longing in her words was hardly disguised and that helped strengthen his resolve.

"Yeah," he promised. "I have to. Afterall, life just isn't worth anything without you…"

a/n: Thanks to each one of you for reading, hope you guys like it. Look forward to a review, pretty please?