A Birthday Inquiry

A/N: Okay, I just had to write this after A) re-reading HBP and B) seeing the amazing sketches thatlbergholof deviantART drew. Go look at them, they're titled If, Fixed, Best Birthday Ever, and Why (and that's the order that they are used in this story). They're simply amazing. In my opinion, Iberghol draws the best R/Hr pictures there is. So, after seeing those pictures I just HAD to write this. I couldn't resist.

Chapter One:

Hermione had been in the library when she had heard. She had been there attempting to avoid Ronald and Lavender. She may pretend that the couple did not affect her, but on the inside every time she caught sight of the familiar red-head entwined with the blonde, her heart broke a little more. So, to avoid this from happening anymore than necessary, she had gone to her sanctuary, the library, where she knew Ron nor Lavender would ever venture unless forced to.

So, while Hermione was trying to concentrate futilely on a large, voluminous book in front of her, she heard a fourth-year Ravenclaw say in a hushed voice, "Yes, they brought him in as I was leaving. Didn't look good at all, either. It was the red-head Gryffindor. The Quidditch Keeper... uh, Weasley!" Hermione had nearly had a heart-attack on the spot. She had jumped out of her chair and terrified the Ravenclaw half to death by interrogating her on what happened to Ron. Unfortunately, all the scared girl could tell her was that he was in the Hospital Wing. Immediately afterwards, she had run as fast as her feet could carry her to the Hospital Wing. When she arrived, she had found Harry and Ginny outside the doors and she had to try and stop herself from falling to the floor and breaking down in sobs as she demanded what had happened. She had felt as cold as if a dementor had entered the room and could feel fear clenching her stomach in an iron-clad fist.

Hermione would reflect later that waiting outside the Hospital Wing that day were the longest and most terrifying hours of her entire life thus far. All she could do was lean against the wall, her back to Harry and Ginny as they tried to uncover the truth about Ron's poisoning. Hermione couldn't bear to take part in this conversation. She didn't think she'd be able to say Ron's name without bursting into tears. She desperately wished that she could put a halt to the turbulent thoughts that were racing through her mind.

What if he doesn't wake up? She thought. What if I never speak to him again? What if I never get the chance to tell him that I love him? Hermione felt herself jump. Had she really just thought that? Did she really love Ronald Weasley? Slowly, she pressed her back against the wall and slid down, drawing her knees to her chest and hiding her face from view, letting the tears fall. It was quite some time later when a voice spoke in her head. It could have been hours, days.

Of course you love him. Even the voice in her head was somber. Although, it did sound remarkably like Ginny. Why else would you have been so torn apart about him and Lavender if you didn't love him? You have been in love with him since he defended you from Malfoy and cursed himself instead. Why else would you have been crying yourself to sleep for months now? You love him, and you've known for years.

After hearing her inner-voice, she had realized quite suddenly that it was right. She had never really recognized the fact that she had loved Ron for years now. For some reason, Hermione remembered fourth-year and how she had acquiesced to be Viktor Krum's date. Looking back on it, she realized that she had only said yes because Ron had not asked her as she had desperately wanted him to. She had been morbidly delighted when he had been so obviously jealous. It was only after Ron had started dating Lavender Brown did she realized just how cruel it had been. She hadn't known that seeing Ron with another girl would evoke such feelings of self-contempt, despair, or profound loneliness. Never in her entire life had Hermione wished so fervently that she were prettier or less of a bookworm... if only she could be the one in Ron Weasley's arms instead of Lavender Brown.

Hermione was broken from her thoughts when the door to the Hospital Wing opened. Somehow, her reverie had lasted so long that night had already fallen. Day had passed into night as she had cried and thought of Ron Weasley. She stood quickly and went to meet Madam Pomfrey at the entrance to the infirmary with Harry and Ginny.

"He'll be all right. He's sleeping. Although, quite fitfully. You may see him now." the nurse told them. They entered and Hermione had to suppress a gasp. Ron was on one of the beds, sweaty and pale, obviously in the throes of a terrible nightmare. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she sat down in one of the chairs at his bedside, trying to force back the tears that threatened to fall. His freckles stood out more sharply than ever, contrasting greatly with his pale skin. She found herself quietly counting the freckles on his face, trying to calm herself down so that if she should choose to speak, she would be able to. She hardly noticed when Fred and George entered. She knew that the other four were speaking, but it seemed as if she were listening to a badly tuned radio. Then she surprised even herself when she spoke, although she could never recall exactly what it was she said afterward. This was due to the fact that at the very moment she ceased talking Ron's voice rang out in what was a whisper, but to Hermione seemed like a foghorn.

"Er-my-nee." Hermione was startled into silence. Had he really just said her name? Had Ron Weasley just really said her name as he was dreaming? Was he dreaming about her? Was it a good dream? Was she plaguing his dream or blessing it? She was broken from her thoughts when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived and Harry, herself, and Hagrid, who she had not realized was there until that moment, had to leave.

And all of this had led to where she was now, sitting by the nearly dead fire in the Gryffindor common room. She was wrapped in her dressing gown and was curled up stiffly in the armchair that Ron usually occupied. She couldn't sleep. Every time she shut her eyes she would see Ron's sickly, pale face. Every time she closed her eyes she was afraid that when she opened them it would have been a dream, and that Harry had not been able to save him. That Ron was gone and never coming back. She was still shaking, she realized vaguely, holding her hand up and watching it quiver. Why was she shaking? Ron was fine, the danger had passed. Madam Pomfrey had said that he was going to make a full recovery. Then why was she still so scared? Was it because she thought he might be gone? Could the mere thought of losing Ron bring about these feelings of emptiness and fear and the feeling that she was completely alone in the world? She realized with a shock that the answer was yes. Finally, she made a decision. Slowly and silently, she crept up to the boy's dormitory and dug out Harry's Invisibility Cloak, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible. She felt quite guilty for taking the Cloak from Harry, knowing that he would let her borrow it if she asked, but she did not want to see the look on his face when she told him she wanted to see Ron. She did not want to see a look of smugness when she felt so low. It felt as if she would break at any minute, or if anything happened. She needed to see Ron.

When she finally arrived at the Hospital Wing, she could see that Ron was sitting up, leaning against propped up pillows and staring out one of the large windows. He was still as white as a sheet, but he was awake. Although, she was broken from her musing when he turned to look in the general direction of where she stood. He had noticed the door open, apparently of its own accord.

"Who's there?" he called, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual.

Hermione hesitated a moment, wondering if she could go back to Gryffindor Tower and sleep peacefully now that she had seen Ron. Before she could make a decision, her mouth moved and she was whispering. "It's me." She pulled Harry's Cloak off and awkwardly walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge of his bed. The chair she had been in earlier had vanished. Before he could say anything and before she could gain control of herself, she had thrown herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

To say that Ron was shocked would definitely be putting it lightly. He and Hermione hadn't spoken three words to each other in months and now she was hugging him as if she would never see him again. He wondered vaguely on the subject he had been thinking of before she had appeared. Had she been here, when he was poisoned? Did she wait outside the Hospital Wing all day waiting to hear if he would be okay? Did she shed tears for him? Was she afraid of losing him as much as he was of losing her? Swallowing the lump in his throat, he lifted his hands and let one rest at her waist and the other on her shoulder. A few seconds later, although if you asked either of them they would say they had no idea how much time had passed, Hermione pulled away and sat on the edge of his bed. Neither spoke and they avoided eye contact. Hermione fingered a loose thread on the blanket covering him absentmindedly. Ron was staring at her, reading to avert his gaze should she glance up at him. He was drinking in her image, trying to decide if he was dreaming or not and if it was, whether he wanted to wake up.

"Why?" Hermione asked quietly, her head bowed. She chanced a glance up at him and found that her eyes became locked with his. The blue depths seemed to draw her in and refuse to let her go. She had always been transfixed by his eyes, but now they would not release her. She could tell that he understood what she was asking when she saw the look in his eyes. "Please... just tell me why."

Ron looked down, avoiding her eyes guiltily. "Because... because I'm a prat. I... I don't remember, except that it was a ridiculous reason anyway. I... I'm sorry. I'm a git. I'm the biggest git in the world." he told her, his head bowed down and staring at his hands.

Hermione looked away too, following his lead and staring at her lap. "I... I won't lie and say that you didn't hurt me." she said in a whisper. "I kept thinking that... that you were with her because I... because I wasn't pretty enough, or... or I was too much of a... a bookworm." she sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I just... I've hated myself for months now." she kept her gaze fixed on her hands, unwilling to see what Ron's reaction would be. She didn't think she would be able to handle his rejection on top of everything that had happened. Suddenly, another hand came into her line of vision and grasped one of hers. Still, she refused to look at him, but she held on to his hand tightly, covering it with her free hand. She felt so... complete. It was as if the past few months had not happened.

"'Mione..." Ron whispered. His voice was so quiet that Hermione thought she may have imagined it. Her stomach flipped over and her heart raced as chills ran up her spine at the new nickname. She chanced a glance at the pale red-head and nearly gasped in shock. He was looking at her with such intensity that she felt as if he were looking at her very soul. His free hand moved up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. Unconsciously, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, letting him caress her skin.

"Are we going to be okay?" she asked in a scared whisper. She opened her eyes and met his stormy blue depths, hoping he would answer her.

Keeping his eyes locked with hers he nodded confidently and said in a quiet voice, "Yeah, I reckon we will be."

A/N: Well, thank you for taking the time to read this! This is the first Harry Potter fanfic I've written in a loooooooooong time so please drop by and leave me a review! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reviewers will receive my eternal gratitude and love!