He stands over the fireplace, watching the flames as they seem to form a solid wall of orange light through his glassy eyes. It would seem to anyone else that nothing was out of the ordinary. The scattered quills forgotten from the night of studying for exams littering the table tops of the Gryffindor common room, the forgotten cloak over the back of a chair near the window, and the clear, starry sky that could be seen from his place on the carpet by the fire if only he turned his head a fraction to the left, but he wouldn’t do that… The place was quiet, everyone tucked soundly into their beds in the tower. But for Ronald Weasley, everything had changed on this night. Nothing would ever be the same…

---

It was the kind of day that makes you wish you had overslept your alarm so that even though you’d get a detention, it was an honest mistake, so what harm was there in going back to sleep again? It was already done. The rain came down in sheets around them and Hermione walked nearly four meters ahead of Harry and Ron. Her hair was so wet that it lied almost flat against her head, an unusual sight. One might not even recognized her from behind, but Ron had grown so accustomed to everything about her that he would have had no trouble… the way she walked, leaning forward slightly to cover the books in her arms from the rain, the way her feet and legs moved together, even down to the shape of her body and the way it fit underneath her cloak.

Ron pushed his hand through the soaked hair on his forehead, moving it back and out of his eyes as they continued up the hill towards their class. She always walked in front of them in the rain. Why did she always walk in front? Ron knew it was nothing more than the fact that she wanted to get to class on time and with reasonably dry underwear, so he never thought much of it. But in a storm like this one, he could watch her as she went, thinking about things that he knew he shouldn’t think about, but the storm seemed to drown his thoughts enough that he felt they would be carried away with the wind before anyone could find out or be bothered to care what he was thinking about.

He would close his eyes for just as second, just long enough to create a picture, but just short enough to keep himself from doing something clumsy like running into her if she made an abrupt stop or if they somehow reached the classroom without him knowing, something that happened often in the rain when his mind wasn’t focused on any of the things that Hermione would have said it should have been. He would imagine, just for a second, how it would be when he would finally decide that these feelings he had were meant for more than just walks in the rain. It wasn’t even a real picture, just a feeling becoming an image in his mind that he couldn’t explain, but it felt like everything made sense just for a second.

When he opened his eyes, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, she could be feeling the same way, she could have a secret that he would be glad that she had kept… until now. And he’d wish for something, some sign that she knew what he felt, some brief second where he could know that she felt the same way, even if it was just her turning over her shoulder to say “yes, I do” to a little first year girl who was looking for one of the greenhouses, asking Hermione if she knew where they were. But it was good enough, and he allowed the smile on his face to linger for a moment too long while he imagined it was him she had turned to, and all this time, all these walks in the rain, had been worth it.

Before he knew it, he was taking his seat in the back of the classroom, Hermione sitting in front of him as it always was. She kept her back to him as she unpacked her bag and covered her desk in two large books, quills, parchment, and an ink well.

In all honesty, that’s where his memories now became fuzzy, though it had been mere months ago. His eyes must have come to rest on the back of Hermione’s neck or on her elbow as she scribbled quickly onto the parchment in front of her, trying to copy down the lesson verbatim. He remembered the feeling of wanting her to turn around, to catch him and scold him for not taking his notes and not paying attention. But these thoughts were not strictly attached to this day and this classroom. He felt this way more often than not during school. He watched her, or he slept, or his eyes tried to focus unsuccessfully on the professor and on the words on the blackboard, but today, his head had felt the weight of sleep dragging him down to the desk top in front of him, and moments later, like the transition between the two states was nothing but a blink and a forgotten memory, his eyelashes rested against his forearm and his mind began the tedious work of planning out the order of things to come in his dreams.

“In dreams, our minds do not lie,” he remembered Hermione telling him once. “Our truest feelings can come out in one night’s sleep…”

---

It was sunset, and he was standing at the Burrow, looking out the front window as Hermione and Ginny came up from the pond towards the door. It seemed that they had been swimming, but he knew that it didn’t make sense… it was Christmas after all.

The snow was gently coming down from the sky as they made their way into the house. He waited for Hermione to notice him by the window when she came through the door and into his view, and she did notice him. For Ron, in that moment, it was a kind of shock where you realize what you wanted and what has happened have become one and the same, and you never would have expected it, so it’s as if you hadn’t asked for it at all, and it had just happened, out of nowhere, to keep you on your toes.

She smiled at him, and he let out a breath he had been holding when he thought she’d walk on past. If she noticed him, he had assumed she would ask questions. “Were you watching me outside?” and he didn’t feel like answering today. But now, no words seemed to be necessary as she studied his face, moving closer and closer until the toe of her boots and his bare toes were lined up and a mere centimeter from touching.

His eyes locked with hers and for a second, his heart stopped. She was going to kiss him. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it just was. He was so sure of it. But then bright flames kicked up in her pupils, and his eyes squinted, staring right into the face of something horrible… he whipped around, pulling his wand from his jeans, thinking it was something behind him coming up to get them, something that he had seen a reflection of in Hermione’s eyes.

But there was nothing there and as he started to turn back around towards Hermione, she was gone. The burrow was replaced with a damp cave and there stood a monster, something he’d never seen before and wished he had never gotten the chance to now. He backed against the cold stone of the cave, his wand raised, and before he knew it, rage was building inside of him. This thing, whatever it was, had taken Hermione away from him. He was shouting, saying things he didn’t remember telling himself to say, and suddenly, he was jolted backwards into the stone by an unseen force…

---

His eyes shot open and the bright light of the classroom dilated his pupils instantly. His back was pressed hard against the back of his wooden desk chair. He slowly realized that everyone in the classroom was watching him. His eyes flicked over Hermione’s. She was concerned, but there was something else. She looked scared…

Ron rubbed at his forehead and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Sorry…” he mumbled hoarsely to the class. They slowly turned back around to face the front, and the professor dismissed the class, but Ron hardly heard him and remained in his seat after everyone else had picked up their bags and started for the door.

Hermione’s eyes stayed locked on Ron’s face and he noticed her after a moment. She stayed in her seat and didn’t move an inch.

“What are you staring at?” snapped Ron. He hadn’t meant to be mean, but he didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like he had done something dangerous or cruel.

“If you must know,” started Hermione, her arms crossing over her chest. “You were shouting my name just a moment ago. You startled half the class into dropping their quills. Made quiet a racket…” As surprised as he was to hear that he had been shouting Hermione’s name in his sleep, he couldn’t resist the urge to make a joke.

“I doubt half the class was holding quills, Hermione. You must have heard all fifteen of yours dropping off your desk at once.”

Hermione sighed and picked up her books, standing from her desk and moving towards the door before Ron had the chance to say anything. Harry had been watching quietly the whole time, busying himself with making it seem an awful lot like he was just having trouble fitting a book into his bag. But now, with Hermione gone, he seemed to decide he needed to speak to Ron about what had happened, and he didn’t seem like he thought it was a joke.

“Ron…”

Ron looked over at Harry and noticed for the first time that the classroom was completely empty.

“Are you okay? I mean, you seemed pretty upset… I know it was a dream and all but…”

“Harry, it’s nothing. Just a really weird nightmare. That’s what I get for drinking too much hot chocolate last night I guess.”

Harry sniggered. Hermione had scolded Ron after his third, fourth, and fifth mug of hot chocolate, but he had refused to stop drinking it every time. In fact, her mentioning it seemed to be what made him continue to drink it, cup after cup.

“Guess that could have been it,” and that was all that Harry said. They left the classroom in silence and made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

It would be days before the event was mentioned again, and several more before Ron would realize that they weren’t just ordinary nightmares. But now, months later, thinking back, he is thankful for the time that he had, thankful that he had a chance to be her friend, because before too much longer, that part of him would be gone forever.