She wondered what Harry had to tell them, worried that it was something terribly important. She knew he needed the two of them now more than ever, and even though Ron had the emotional capacity of a flobberworm, Hermione was determined to be there for Harry. She was scared, too, and not simply of Voldemort. This was their final year at Hogwarts. They would be off getting jobs soon. What if they were taken away from each other? What if she only got to see them in a visit about every other month? What if the year ended without Ron knowing how she really felt? She made a silent resolution not to let this final year of childhood, essentially, go to waste.
There was another issue on her mind, as well. The whole business with Voldemort. It had been entirely too quiet. She had a nagging sense of foreboding, that something was going to happen. She wanted nothing more than to take her friends and loved ones away, somewhere where they could escape from this whole war. However much she wished that, she knew Harry was inextricably linked to Voldemort. He would never be vanquished without Harry; he was the key. And she couldn't, in good conscience, doom the wizarding world to a future that included Lord Voldemort simply because she was selfish and wanted to protect those she held dear. As much as she worried about Harry, she worried about Ron too. Worried that he would eventually be taken by a sense of bravado, a desire to prove to the world that he was brave as Harry, and would do something horribly stupid...something to get himself killed.
On her knees beside Fang, Hermione felt an overwhelming urge. "Whoever's up there," she began awkwardly, "If anyone is up there, please watch over my friends. There's so much fear in the world. We all need looking out for now." She closed her eyes, overcome with supplication, as two sweaty, disheveled figures approached from the direction of the Quidditch pitch.