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Friends

Harry knew it would be a long time before he would be able to get to sleep. The rain outside seemed to strengthen in intensity as the minutes slowly passed, pounding along with the thoughts racing around in his head. He wished that he could just stop thinking for the night- he was tired and frustrated- but along with the rain came the sound of Hermione crying at the other side of the tent. Although Hermione was making some effort at keeping quiet, it was horribly apparent that she was in terrible pain. And Harry couldn't tune that out. So he just lay there and listened while Ron's angry face swam in front of him in the darkness.

Ron just didn't understand. He didn't understand what leaving had done to Hermione. He didn't understand what he'd been getting into. He didn't understand how important this was. What did he think was going to happen when they'd left to search for horcruxes anyway? Harry had made no illusions- it wasn't going to be easy. He had told them not to come, but they had insisted. He could still see Ron's and Hermione's faces looking at him as if he'd sprouted two heads when he had told them they should stay behind, go back to school. Not so ridiculous now though, is it Ron?

Ron and Hermione had been whispering about him. He knew it, he knew what they were saying, but to hear Ron throw it in his face was an entirely different matter. To hear that his friends- the two people in the whole world who were closest to him- had lost faith in him, that they were disappointed in him, was so much harder to bear when said out loud. And now Ron was gone. And in the morning they would move on to another location and Ron would have no way of finding them again. Harry had mixed feelings on this matter. He was angry with Ron and part of him didn't want to see the ugly git's face ever again. But on the other hand, he didn't think he could take the daily disappointment of waking up knowing that Ron could be there but he wasn't.

Harry sighed and turned to look at the dark, huddled form across the tent. Hermione at least had stayed. Her words kept floating back to the front of his mind.

But as he lay there, Harry couldn't help thinking that if Hermione did decide to leave, he couldn't really blame her. There was a part of him that even wanted Hermione to leave- not for any bad reasons. If she left, then she and Ron could be together and they wouldn't have to worry about what they were going to eat the next day or whose turn it was to stand guard at the front of the tent. Or, most of all, when they were finally going to catch some kind of break and find a horcrux. Hermione didn't have to stay. There was nothing keeping her here except, apparently, her word. And Harry felt a little better at the idea that Hermione cared enough to stick out their seemingly hopeless circumstances because she put so much stock in her word.

But she didn't deserve to be miserable like this. She didn't deserve to be up all night crying because one of her best friends, more than her best friend really, had plain walked out on her. Harry wanted better for his friend. It was a bit of a temptation to get out of bed, walk over to Hermione, and tell her that she could leave. Not that she should, she wouldn't appreciate that, he knew, but that she could. That she could go home.

Home. Home is where the heart is, isn't that what they said? In that case, shouldn't his home have been with Ron and Hermione? With Ginny? And where was he? In a tent in the middle or nowhere making no progress. But Hermione was here. Well, one out of three was better than nothing he supposed and although there was that part of him that didn't want Hermione to stay, an overwhelming majority of him was endlessly grateful that she hadn't left him as well. Although Hermione's current company was less than comforting, she was at least there. But now she was crying, distraught, and Harry found that the sound of Hermione curled up in the chair a few feet away, clutching at the blankets around her and sobbing mirrored the turmoil that seemed to be churning in his chest.

Harry rolled over and shut his eyes, willing his thoughts to easier, happier topics. At once his mind went to Ginny and for a moment Harry smiled. But soon enough, the realization that she was far away at Hogwarts under the watchful eyes of a few Death Eaters and Snape as headmaster did anything but put his mind at ease. She seemed to be doing all right all things considered. Ron had thought that he didn't care, that he had simply pushed aside all the worry he was feeling for Ginny upon finding out that she only had detention in the forest. She had been with Hagrid- it wasn't really anything to worry about and Ron knew that. Ron didn't have any idea how much he cared. But Harry didn't want to think about Ron right now.

It seemed inevitable however. As he lay there, Harry listened to Hermione and all he could think of was the cause of her misery. He wished there was something else he could do. But at the thought of Ron he felt so awful and angry over what had happened that he was sure it would be better if he just butted out for the night. He didn't want to make things worse. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning. He rolled over again to his other side and punched his pillow, with perhaps more force than was needed, into a more comfortable position.

Harry heard Hermione get up from her seat and walk into the bathroom. There was a click as the door shut and for a moment the only sound came from the rain beating down on the tent. But then Harry heard the shower turn on and the sound mixed with the rain falling outside and Harry started to feel exhausted. He glanced at his watch, which was lying next to the bed, and in the dim light he could see that it was just past midnight. Perhaps he could scrounge a few hours of sleep before moving on- and leaving this mess behind him.

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke was that he could still hear the shower running. It was still dark in the tent, clearly still night, and he wondered if he'd really only been asleep for a few minutes for Hermione to still be in the shower. But as he glanced at his watch curiously he discovered that it had been just over an hour since he'd fallen asleep. His eyes traveled to the little bathroom straight across from him and he frowned.

It was a bit cliché, but Harry couldn't help but picture Hermione turning on the shower as a ruse and cover as she sneaked out a window and went after Ron. But that was the sort of thing that would happen in some cheesy soap opera, not something Hermione would do. It was silly of him to even consider the matter. He didn't know where it had come from but as he lay in bed and listened to the water running from the spout some irrational part of him had the urge to check and make sure she hadn't abandoned him as well.

Harry was certain that the thought wouldn't have occurred to him if it hadn't been for Ron leaving. It had been so unexpected- it had come out of nowhere- and he supposed that some part of him was still reeling at the idea that Ron had left them only a few hours ago.

It wasn't hard to convince himself to get out of bed and go knock on the bathroom door. After all, even if Hermione was still in there (she was- she hadn't left), there could still be something wrong if she was in there for so long. So, Harry took the few steps over to the door, raised a hand and paused. All he heard was running water. It wouldn't hurt to check. He knocked.

There was a slight high-pitched squeak from the other side of the door and Harry nearly collapsed in relief. Hermione was in there. He was sure he'd just startled her but he didn't care because he knew she hadn't left. He waited to see if she would come to the door or say something but when she didn't respond further, Harry knocked again, with a bit more confidence this time.

"Yes?" Hermione's voice was muffled, but not just from the door. It was clear she was still stuffy from crying. He wished she wouldn't cry.

"Hermione?" Harry called hesitantly. "Is something… wrong?"

There was an indistinct sound and then nothing. What a stupid question! Of course something's wrong! You know what Ron meant—means—to her! Harry shook himself mentally and thought about what would be the best course of continuing. He didn't want to just leave her like this.

"Is it all right if I come in?"

Again, Hermione didn't respond with words but the tone and inflection of her voice was clearly in the affirmative and so Harry rested one hand on the door knob and turned it slowly. He kept his eyes closed at first just in case and then risked peeking through his eyelashes. But there was no need to worry about modestly. Hermione was fully clothed. Soaking wet, but fully clothed.

She was sitting in the shower, her jeans and sweatshirt still on, her normally lively hair plastered to her cheeks and neck, tears mixing with the water that was running down her face. She looked awful. She looked… sad. So deeply sad that Harry didn't know what to do.

For a moment, Harry stood in the doorway, not moving, and Hermione sat in the shower, shivering, staring up at him. There was something in her look that told Harry that she had been hoping it was Ron who'd come to comfort her. She wasn't upset with him, but Harry knew she had still been hoping. He'd been hoping Ron would come back and Hermione would stop crying. (And so he could give him a good punch in the face for leaving.) As he watched her face fall further into despair he closed the gap between them.

Not caring about getting wet, Harry sat down next to Hermione on the soaking tile and felt the cold water from the shower pouring down his neck, through his hair. It soaked quickly through his clothes. He was shivering almost instantly and he thought it was a wonder Hermione hadn't turned into an icicle by now. He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding tight and burying her face in his chest. And all Harry could think of was that it should have been Ron holding Hermione. But instead it was Ron that had caused this.

Harry reached up behind him with his free arm and turned the shower off. It didn't help much with the cold but it was enough and it seemed to stir Hermione into speech.

"He shouldn't have left! Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?" Hermione's words were clear even though she still had her face hidden in his shirt. But Harry didn't have an answer for them. Not one that Hermione would want to hear anyway. Her next words were more of a whisper.

"Doesn't he know what he's doing to me?"

The answer to that one was complicated. Harry was sure that if Ron really did understand what his leaving had meant to Hermione, he would have been back in an instant. But Ron always was a bit thick when it came to his love life. And if he really did know what he was doing to her… well, then Ron didn't deserve her. But Harry knew this wasn't the case- Ron and Hermione were meant to be together and it wasn't often that that happened.

"I hate him," Hermione whispered fiercely.

"No you don't" was Harry's immediate reply. His voice was low and full of certainty. Hermione wasn't even capable of hating Ron. Sure, they were both extremely angry with him at the moment but he was still Ron.

"Well," Hermione conceded, "I suppose I don't hate him. But I hate that he left."

"One fewer person to complain about your cooking." Harry risked a small joke. Hermione relaxed in his arms for a moment.

"You'll still complain about my cooking," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "But that's what brothers do so I'm allowed."

Hermione pulled her head up at last and looked up into Harry's face. There were more tears in her eyes but Harry had a feeling that these weren't tears of sadness. She smiled up at him and for a moment Harry knew that things would work out in the end. She hugged him closer and he hugged her back and she fell asleep in his arms.

Harry didn't want to wake her and so made sure she was wrapped up in a number of dry warm blankets before laying her down in her cot. Then he put on dry clothes and got into his bed knowing that they would only be able to sleep for a few hours before having to leave. But by the time Harry rested his head down on his pillow again the rain had stopped. And even though he knew Hermione was still very upset she was at least getting some sleep.

Or so he thought. As he lay there with his thoughts Harry heard Hermione's tired voice float over to him in the dark.

"Harry?"

Harry continued to stare up at the top of the tent. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Harry smiled. He wanted to tell her that he was thankful she had stayed but he didn't want to bring that up so he didn't say anything and he knew Hermione understood. That's what friends were for.