Standard disclaimers ... HP and all of its bits and pieces don't belong to me and never will.

Maybe not as Grim as all that.

Still Ron's POV.


He nearly jumped out of his skin – he hadn't even heard the door open.

"That's the second time you've scared the life out of me tonight," he chuckled, "I'm going to start getting a complex."

"Sorry," she whispered, hovering by the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," his eyes widened as he watched her cross the room and sit on the end of his bed, wringing her hands as they rested in her lap.

He leaned over to turn on the lamp, but stopped when she said, "Please don't."

"OK," he agreed, scrambling over to sit close to her. Why are you here? "Is something wrong?" Why do you do this to me? He covered her agitated hands with one of his. You're killing me. "What's wrong?"

"I just wanted to say," she hesitated, "I want you to know ... if something ... happens, tomorrow ..."

"Nothing's going to happen tomorrow." I won't let anyone hurt you.

"But if it does," she pushed on, "I want you to know that you mean a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to me too." More than anything. "But it's going to be ok, really. How could it not be?"

"It might not be," her voice quavered.

"Hermione," he tried to sound stern, but couldn't really pull it off, "we've been through this before."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again," he joked weakly, "now come on, it's really, really late." Please don't run away from me. "Do you, um ... do you want to sleep here tonight?" I don't want to be alone. "There's more than enough room." Far too much room. "I promise to keep my hands to myself." Even if it kills me.

"You wouldn't mind?" She sounded unsure.

"Of course I don't mind!" Please.

"OK then. Thank you."

No. Thank YOU.