iberghol's Ron comforting Hermione“Keep reading,” Ron muttered, sitting down next to her on the edge of Harry’s bed. “If you don’t, Harry will go mad when she realizes how much homework she has to do.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Ron’s tone was so miserable and so humorless, not even the most light-hearted of souls would have found it in them to laugh. Instead, it made her cry. She spun around and collapsed against his chest, unable to stop the heavy sobs that wracked her body. She clutched his shirt and balled his sleeve in her fist, wanting to sink into him; wanting him to make all of this go away, yet knowing he couldn’t. Of all the many wonderful things that Ron was; a miracle-worker he was not.
Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders while his other hand came to rest in her hair. “She’ll come back, Mione,” he whispered softly. “I know she will.”
Hermione wasn’t so sure.
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