Hermione had been in the tent. Once Harry had left for the lake, her anger had frustration had almost faded - it often did with the horcrux was taken that far away. She'd been going over the runes again. She knew she was right.
Then something startled her - a scream. It sounded like voices in the woods though she couldn't hear what they were saying, and she grabbed her wand and took off in a dead run toward the lake. Toward Harry. God, why had she let him go alone? Why did they ever let him out of their sight. She turned a corner on the snowy forested path and stopped in her tracks.
Ron.
Ron? She couldn't seem to speak for a moment, sure her heart wasn't even beating.
Finally, she realized that she was right. It was Ron. And he was carrying... oh gods, was that Harry?
"Ron!" She cried, alarmed, scared, and there was something of relief in there too, at seeing him, and she couldn't put a name on why when obviously something had happened.