Separation Anxiety

Ron's first thought upon entering the flat was 'Silencing Charm', because standing on the other side of the door had given him no clue of the wreckage going on inside. His second, simultaneous thoughts were 'Danger' and 'Hermione'. He held his wand high and moved carefully, his heart racing, but something didn't feel right.

There were family portraits smashed against the floor, cushions with the stuffing violently ripped out, and bits of glass and china covering every surface. Other than that, though, there weren't any tale-telling signs of violence and, besides, why would a Death Eater bother using a Silencing Charm before tearing his home down?

Ron's questions were only partially answered when he heard a loud, almost hysterical growl that couldn't be anyone but Hermione's. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing—what if there really was someone else there and she was fighting them?

His fears renewed, Ron took a couple of steps forwards but, before he could get past the overturned coffee table, there was a crash and a shriek from the doorway to the rest of the flat; next thing he knew, Hermione had jumped on him, arms and legs wrapping around his neck and torso.

Ron groaned as his body, exhausted from almost a week of combat and poor living conditions, took on Hermione's weight, but he said nothing and put his arms firmly around her, feeling finally at home.

'Ron! You—you're here!' Hermione cried, pulling herself apart from his chest to look at him through misty eyes. She kissed him then; roughly at first, almost attacking his mouth as her hands dug on his back, subsiding to small, separate kisses after several seconds, to finish with a sigh into his mouth as she rested her forehead against his.

'Hey,' he said, a little dizzily. 'Are you all right?'

'I am now,' she said softly.

'I'd ask you something in case you're a Death Eater Polyjuiced as you, but I don't think I would've received that kind of welcome if you were.'

'Oh no, you've got to ask me!' Hermione said, breaking apart again, and when Ron tried to protest it wasn't necessary and that he'd only been joking, she argued, 'But it is! I understand why you'd want to do it, and you've got to set an example, Ron.'

'Fine,' he conceded, deciding it was better to humour her and get over with it quickly than keep arguing the pointlessness of security questions. 'What day did we move in?'

'That's too easy, May 29th.'

'Okay,' Ron said with a smirk, 'but what day did we… uh, make the place our own?'

Hermione blushed the second she understood the question.

'May 20th.'

'I reckon it is you.'

Hermione clucked her tongue but buried her head on the crook of Ron's neck again.

'I missed you so badly.'

'Me too,' Ron said, rubbing her back and inhaling deeply into her hair. 'I've got to ask though… why are you vandalizing our flat? Or are you redecorating already?'

He felt the hotness of her flushed face against his skin.

'I'm sorry! I was doing just fine until yesterday, when you were supposed to come back—well, you know, as fine as I can be. But today I had to ask at the Ministry, and they said they had no idea why you weren't back yet, and that they couldn't contact you or send anyone to check on your squad before 48 hours had passed, lest they ruin the mission.'

Hermione sniffed.

'I was so scared, and—and I couldn't talk to Ginny because she's still playing in Ireland so I—I got very angry. At me for being so stupid. Then at you for choosing such a dangerous job, and at the bloody Ministry policy that wouldn't bring you back to me, and then at ruddy Tom Riddle, because if it wasn't for him there wouldn't be Death Eaters to find, and—'

'That's a lot of people to be mad at,' Ron interrupted, his hands roaming the length of her back as much for her comfort as for his own. 'Have you spared anything in here?'

'Don't laugh!' Hermione said, frowning.

'I'm sorry, it's just—you tore the place down like a bloody niffler!' Ron said, bursting into laughter so much that he had to make an extra effort to keep holding Hermione.

'Well, it's your fault, you're the one who didn't come home!'

'It's not like I was on a picnic, you know, I could've been killed,' Ron reminded her, even knowing she hadn't really meant it.

Hermione gave him another kiss and gently stroke the back of his neck.

'I didn't even ask you… are you all right? You're not injured, are you?'

'Nah, only knackered.'

'Merlin's pants—that's right! And here I am abusing you!' Hermione lamented, trying to get away from Ron. 'Put me down!'

'You're not abusing me,' Ron snorted, tightening his grip. 'Let's just move to the sofa.'

He reached it in three long strides, his boots making crunching noises as he stepped on the broken things littering the floor, with Hermione still demanding that he set her down. He heavily plopped both of them down onto the sofa after clearing it of debris with his wand, letting out a mix of a groan and a sigh as his body relaxed. Hermione folded her legs on either side of him, straddling his lap, and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.

'I'm really sorry about all this,' Hermione said after a minute of staring at him. 'I thought it might help letting off some steam, but I didn't mean to get so carried away. Maybe I should get one of those stress-reliever balls.'

'What balls now?' Ron asked, opening his eyes at once and looking slightly scandalized.

Hermione laughed.

'A small squishy ball you can squeeze when you're feeling anxious. It's supposed to help.'

'If you say so. Anyway, don't worry about this. We'll fix it in a trice… probably not right now, though.'

'Agreed.'

Hermione wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head on his shoulder, rubbing her nose against his jaw. He had a six-day-old stubble—although he seemed to have taken a shower before coming home—but Hermione didn't mind. It was another sign that he was really there, and it was comforting.

'I wasn't so mad as I was sad, you know.'

'Hm?' Ron asked, slightly distracted, having closed his eyes again to enjoy Hermione's touch. 'Why?'

'This is the first time you've gone on a mission since we moved in together,' Hermione said quietly. 'You weren't coming home, and I thought… what if you don't come back at all? I've just got used to you kissing me being the second thing I'm aware of in the mornings after the alarm. To coming into our tiny kitchen and seeing you making breakfast. To finding you all squeezed up in this sofa, napping with Crookshanks. To telling you off for leaving your muddy boots everywhere. What if you didn't come home and I had to give up all that?

'I'm being dramatic, I know,' Hermione continued when Ron didn't say anything, his blue eyes looking back at her. 'It's not that I don't trust your skills, it's only that it's a dangerous job and—'

'Casualties happen,' Ron finished for her. 'I know. I think about that, too.'

'You do?'

'Yeah. I try not to, though. With the things we've seen, how couldn't I? That's what makes it so hard leaving you. But I… I've got to do this, Hermione.'

She straightened up and looked at him.

'And I understand. I'm not trying to make you quit. I hate that after all we've been through, you two had to go and keep putting yourselves in the mouth of the dragon, instead of doing something more sensible.' She gave a little shrug and smiled. 'But it wouldn't be you if you'd done something sensible, would it? I can't change you, and I don't want to. I just wish it was easier sometimes, or that there was anything I could do to make sure you'll come back.'

Ron laughed.

'There is something you can do.'

'What?' Hermione asked, slightly astonished that Ron had already come up with a solution that had eluded her for six days.

'Exist.'

She didn't know if he was being serious or not, but the way he was trying really hard not to break into a grin made her laugh.

'Exist?'

'Well, you know… as long as you exist, I'll promise I'll do my best to come back to you in one piece,' he answered, intertwining their fingers together and pulling her towards him.

'How very corny of you!' Hermione exclaimed, pressing her lips against his.

'It's true,' Ron said, twisting so she was almost under him and laying her down the length of the sofa. 'I promise.'

'Do you, really?'

'Of course. I wouldn't get to come home to this if I died,' Ron said, his voice husky and partially muffled as he kissed her neck. 'I also promise to get you a stress ball.'

'Oh, shut up,' she said, smiling and tucking her hands inside his shirt. 'This is all the stress-reliever I need right now.'

Ron was about to say something when a loud growl made him stop.

'Sorry,' he said automatically. 'Wait… that wasn't my stomach…'

'Never mind that.' Hermione wrapped her legs around him and tried to pull him back down, but Ron lifted his head to look at her.

'When was the last time you ate?'

'Really, Ron…' she protested. Ron, however, was looking insistently at her, forcing her to meet his eyes. 'Breakfast.'

'Break—are you completely mental?!'

Hermione tried to argue that he was overreacting, but Ron was already pulling her to her feet.

'Come on, we'll have dinner, then we can pick up where we left. Brightest witch my pants, you'd think… breakfast, honestly…' he mumbled to himself, ignoring the dirty look Hermione gave him while she dialled their favourite take-away place.

She wasn't really angry at him, though. However untimely it was, taking care of her—of everyone he loved, really—was also part of Ron, and she wouldn't change him for the world.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the prompt: You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?

Dedicated to all those people who occasionally need to break stuff. You know Hermione would totally be one of us.