A/N: This was my take on what could have possibly happened between Ron and Hermione while Harry was asleep.

And look, I get now years later J.K Rowling doesn't think the pairing of Ron and Hermione should've been. But for those who read the books not just seen the movies I believe there are so many instances where Ron truly did deserve Hermione which I've incorporated here. Lend me your thoughts if you'd like. I tried to keep them as close in character as possible.

Revised as if 11/10/2018 and I am much more satisfied with it!

I'll Never Leave You Hermione

"Harry wondered whether they had fallen asleep holding hands…"

pg. 146

-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Hermione mutely watched the gob of her toothpaste swirl down the drain as Harry exited the bathroom once more. The brief argument as to who would sleep where still lingered between the three. Harry then she'd watch crawl back inside himself again fastening his frustrations into a morphed, blank stare as he'd retreat with Ron from the room. Admittedly it had been hard to watch, an uneasy feeling having settled between worry and was it possible, fear? It rested like a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach. Ever since Dumbledore's passing Harry's moodswings had teetered from one extreme to the next. Sometimes it felt as if she and Ron were walking on eggshells. The more the death toll raised, the more unsettled and agitated Harry, progressively, became.

Only a few days had passed since she and Ron had discussed their friends stature at the Burrow. In the midst of Mrs. Weasley's cleaning frenzy in efforts to distract the three from their impending plans to leave. While Harry had been forced to sort socks on the far side of the oddly crooked home with Mrs. Weasely, Ron had snuck into the attic where he'd found she, Hermione. Within that pocket of privacy her and Ron had, evidently, concluded that Harrys arbitrary mood swings had to be linked to Voldemorts. Which could only mean as she, Hermione'd reasoned, Harry had to be having visions through Voldemort's mind again. Which wasn't good. Having witnessed their friend often struggle with the Dark Lord over the years, it was at this point they knew when to look for such signs. Lately, to their discomfort, Harrys dark demeanor was rearing up more frequently.

With Voldemorts power growing.

Hermione felt a shudder pass through her as she repacked Harry's toothbrush and looked up into the mirror. The yellow, aged bulb that flickered above illuminated the subtle bags under her eyes. The tension in the lines of her face. It spoke of the years from which her intelligence had only deepened, been depended on in the midst of her years. No doubt she was much more average than the regular seventeen year old teenager. Among her peers she was considered one of the smartest witches of her age. With this she felt much much older. Wiser. But also strained as the ever growing darkness from which they'd encountered each year at Hogwarts, grew.

It had left an imprint on all three. And now this was it; there was no going back to a Hogwarts void of the once infamous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. There was no turning back from this impending mission for which she and Ron had sworn to accompany Harry on.

It was impertinent for them all to succeed. Otherwise the world in which they knew would disappear. It's what kept her motivated. She wanted future generations to experience the wonder of Hogwarts as she had but without fear for their lives. Bloodlines. Or Hogsmeade to venture and experience a Butterbeer. A Diagon Alley to purchase books from before their school terms. A Weasley Wizard Wheezes to explore. And despite their differences with the former Minister, she wanted the Ministry of Magic to thrive. So she shuttered the thoughts of the dead Mad-Eye Moody ghost she'd encountered upon arriving here, Harrys unraveling sanity, and the immense pressure building over finding these said Horcruxes.

All the while being the most wanted witch in the wizarding world community.

Which still addled her. It was disconcerting to know all three of their faces had been posted everywhere tacked on with a high reward for their heads. It was something Hermione had never fathomed. A crazy concept to accept. Thus, it made her ever so more determined to defeat Voldemort once and for all and restore what once was a safe haven for both wizards, witches, and muggles.

As she ran the thistley bristles of her brush through the thick nutmeg tangles of her hair, a few tears surfaced. In an attempt to save her parents from being tortured by Voldemorts Death Eaters for information, she'd had her parents oblivated of their memories of which she existed, having sent them to Australia for the time being.

Even if she didn't know if she'd see them again. Or if she'd be alive once this was all over. It wasn't a dense concept. She knew all too clear the possibility of meeting her fate at the hands of the Death Eaters or Voldemort himself.

As she repacked her feminine toiletries a small grimace pulled her lip down in slight disgust. Since she was still only human the thick cobwebs that had started to sprout overhead the bathroom brought her back to reality: they were in number 12 Grimwauld Place. A least favorite place of hers. But also because it reminded her who once lived here.

Sirius Black.

Had he'd been alive Sirius would've likely agreed Grimwauld was the most cleverest place to hide with she, Harry, and Ron's lives on the line. So now was certainly not the time for complaining about such trivial things like a dirty, creepy old house. It was hardly in comparison to what they faced.

She stuffed her dirty clothes back into the handy, beaded bag that had already proven its convenience and stepped out of the dusty room. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the yellowing curtains before her, a passing silence leaving a small knot in the pit of her stomach as Hermione padded in her socked feet across the creaky floorboards. Her hand clenched the bag a little tighter than necessary as a cool breeze flitted through the thin threads of her night shirt. It was in that moment her frustration peaked. For Merlin sake she'd faced Devils Snare, had battled Dementors, and had faced down Death Eaters at the Ministry. And this was causing the hair to rise on her skin? Pathetic. Though the gruesome pictures and objects which hung upon the muted, gray walls, did nothing to help. It reminded her as to why Sirius had been so grateful for company.

A sad smile found its way to her lips. She missed his presence here. Ever since he'd died Harry had never been the same. He'd taken Sirius death far more personal than them all. But for good reason. He'd been Harrys last living relative as his Godfather. Without Sirius here this place was devoid of any warmth and-

A gasp was ripped from her lungs as a sudden shadow detached from the darkness. The thought of Moody's gruesome, ghostly form from privy entry sprang to mind and she whipped her wand out at the ready. Until the form grew familiar as they drew closer, Hermione loosening her muscles from a defensive stance.

"Ron?!"

"S'that you, Hermione?"

As she approached him she could make out the pale, chalky skin clearly stricken with the same fear as her own, his wand, having been familiarly practiced, drawn. Still irritated with him after their argument in the drawing room, she crossed her arms, "Merlins beard, Ronald, what'd you doing back here?" Her voice held a slight edge, he being the cause of a near hex as she stared at him, imploring.

A hint of irritation crossed the set lines in his face, the burden of the weight they carried clear in those blue orbs. Nonetheless he took a step forward, "Here lemme help you with that."

In his voice echoed the same, tired strain as hers often did. The previous shaggy red mane he'd always kept was now sheered and reached just the tips of his ears framing a face of no longer a boy. So far was he from the lanky red-haired bot she'd met on her first train ride of the Hogwarts Express. The childish roundess to his face had smoothed into a masculinity which spoke of his growth as a young man. With a bulk of muscles obtained from his years of Quidditch both on and off the fields, he now towered a few inches above her in height.

It reflected back at her with how much had changed between the two. From the beginning Ronald Weasley had simply been a freckled nuisance to her who she'd deemed a dolt that didn't know from his brain or mouth. He'd picked on her often with beguiled jealousy when she'd best him in classes. Then when it had come time for meals any seriousness was killed in between the stuffing of food into his face. But then, then had come the slow to progress feelings she'd start to carry in the summer of their third year spent at the Burrow. The obliviousness to this would transpire into the fourth year Yule Ball when he'd brawl with Viktor Krum after finding out he was Hermiones suitor. But rather than taking one step forward, he'd take one step back and disappoint her when the snogging season of Lavender Brown had commenced. This would leave the both in heated matches and tears on Hermiones part that would lead to a hexing of birds to peck ruthlessly at him. Within that night of turmoil and tears it had left Hermione to wonder, not for the first time, if Ron truly saw her beyond the busy-haired sidekick.

After, she'd nearly given up.

But then, as often as their years together growing up had proven, he'd surprise her: the day he'd fall sick after a love potion gone wrong. In a quiet whisper almost too low for her to decipher he'd mutter one name that had changed everything: "Hermione." She'd spent hours at his side until he'd been well, after. Then when the day had arrived of Albus Dumbledores passing (murder) he'd hold her while she'd cry into his chest, exerting compassion and what, seemingly, appeared more. In that moment it would cause her to reminisce on just how and why she'd fallen for him of all boys.

Ronald Bilius Weasely was more than what many from the outside saw as the shadow of the infamous Harry James Potter. If anyone had the inside scope on this it was none other than their best friend, Hermione Jean Granger. The first incident of such would be displayed the time they'd encountered the troll in the girls bathroom where she'd been. Or Fluffy the three-headed dog in their first year. His assistance in helping her remember what Devil Snare hated. Then there was the logistics in which he'd prove of his own grounds in a form of control in chess amidst their quest for the Sorcerers Stone. After it would be during the summers spent at the Burrow. Their second year in which he'd stand up to Draco Malfoy after calling her the worst insult a wizard could a half-witch: Mudblood. By third year he'd face the Whomping Willow while they'd tried saving Sirius Black. Fourth year his protectiveness over her had shone when Death Eaters had swamped the Quidditch World Cup. Fifth year he'd stood up to Graug when he'd snatched up Hermione. After he'd help break into the Ministry of Magic with Harry and herself along their familiars. Sixth year he'd make a name for himself in Quidditch. Finally, there was Bill and Fleurs wedding in which Ron would cut in before Krum could so he, himself, could dance with her.

All within those years included subtle moments of generosity which had steadily grown, the childish antics once spurned by his temper eventually matured into a degree of restraint that later would catch the eyes of such women like Lavender Brown. Above all though it was his loyalty Hermione would find most attractive: both family and friends he'd be willingly-and still would-die for to protect at all costs.

Lost within this moment of revelation, Hermione failed to note the steadying frustration spreading across the present Rons face before he blurted, "If you want, that is."

It was his voice that cut through Hermiones scrambled train of thoughts, a small blush appearing as she snapped back to reality. "Oh err… sorry." Hermione with a subtle shake of her head handed the bag over, stuffing her hands in the striped pockets of her pj's.

Ron looked at her for a moment then shook his head with a slight huff, remaining quiet until they reached the drawing room they'd crash in for the night. There he tossed it aside, running a hand through the tangled red hair as he did tirelessly when he was looking for a filler.

"Thanks Ron." Hermione supplied appreciatively, her frustration from earlier slowly ebbing away.

Her eyes fell on Harrys sleeping form.

"Nah s'really nothing." Ron sighed, exhaling a long, drawn out yawn. "But I'm gonna change, not really much food to speak of but I reckon Harrys out like a light anyways." He picked up his rucksack with a shrug and retreated once more from the room.

Hermione watched his tall frame disappear into the thick shadows of the hallway before she knelt down beside Harry. The hard lines usually set in his face were smoothed out as if he were at a momentary peace, unperturbed by the Boy Who Lived legacy. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.

She smiled, small. Harry was also not the cautious, eleven year old boy she'd once met on their first train ride to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The years of having dealt with Voldemort, with death, and the challenges he'd faced had, ultimately, changed him. In spite of all this he'd never chosen to leave herself or Ron in his daily struggles with the Dark Lord. As an only child it had only made her sisterly love for him progress over the years. She truly hoped once it was over her friend could have a piece of semi-normalcy (since they'd all surely be changed even more after).

After all they'd faced, it was Harry who deserved peace the most.

Gently, she placed her hand on the back of his. His lashes slightly twitched as if he sensed her. "Sleep well, Harry." she whispered.

Hermione pushed herself to her feet then and shuffled over towards the moth-eaten lumpy couch Ron had insisted she take. Pulling back the covers she wondered for a moment if Ron had made it for her. The thought instantly warmed her of the small things he'd been doing for her lately. Maybe not even consciously. A light smile spread across her lips as she climbed into the cool sheets secretly hoping no creatures were awaiting like she and Ginny had once been forced to clean out. Such a different time that was. She sighed as she closed her eyes to rid of the darker world she lived in if only for a little while instantly succumbing to sleep.

Sunshine. It flitted through the soft, ivory drapes that billowed around her. Lush, green grass brushed up against her feet. A faint echo of a sob reached her, numerous faces scattered about but unable to decipher. It was the beautiful hymns of music that kept her walking forward as she took one foot in front of the other.

Then, suddenly, she was left to stop and look up into the face of-

"Bloody hell- curse this Merlin forsaken shack!"

Hermione instantly sat up at the loud clatter that ricocheted her from sleep. Her eyes instantly found Ron. Ron who was holding his foot. Her eyes flickered to Harry quick, only to see him still asleep. The relief was short lived as her eyes swiveled back to Ron and her frustration spiked. "Ronald," she hissed.

"I stepped on a rusted nail, Hermione." he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Hermione felt immediately sympathetic. "Oh gosh Ron… I didn't know… do you need me to help you?" She started to scramble out of the sheets then feeling horribly guilty for having snapped at him.

"No I think you've done enough." he replied bitterly.

Oh, he was cranky too.

Hermione glared but slowly laid back down. Hurt and angered, she ripped the sheets up to her chin not about to stroke his ego with more apologies. "Fine." she huffed. "But don't think for a second I'm going to feel sorry for you if you end up in St. Mungos with tetanus." She forced her eyes shut then and drowned out the sounds of his grumbling. Surprisingly, it took only moments later for her body to lapse into the calm of sleep and she gladly took it without hesitation once more.

"Duck Harry!" Hermione shouted towards Ron impersonating the fake body of Harry. A Death Eater had just nearly hacked off his right arm by their jet of green light as he'd held on to Tonks.

The rest of the crew had vanished into the clouds.

Her, Kingsley, Tonks, and Ron, were the only ones who had not yet divided up. Only a few hundred feet apart, Hermione could still make out Ron's silhouette ahead of her. She ducked just as a stream of yellow light passed her.

"Watch yourself!" Kingsely shouted.

Hermione willed her wand to stun a Death Eater that suddenly flew in as Kingsley's thestral flew faster into the air. She trained herself not to look down below from its invisible hide since she hated heights.

Abruptly, the air around them grew cold.

Her stomach twisted in horror as her eyes slowly wavered to the shadow above. Flying through the air with snake-like blood red eyes and wand outstretched was Voldemort. "Kingsely it's him!" Hermione shrieked. "Impedimenta!" The flash of light missed him by inches.

He suddenly disappeared as more Death Eaters headed her way.

It was then Ron reappeared from the thick layer of clouds, crimson tainted the handle of his broom and oozed from a deep gash in the side of his head. "H-Hermione..." His appearance shifted, his balance questionable. The dark strands of ebony hair was beginning to lighten, taking on a familiar, reddish hue as the Polyjuice potion wore off.

In horror, Hermione realized Tonks was no longer behind him.

"Hold on Ron!" she yelled, terror clenching her heart. What if he fell off?! There was no way she was going to let that happen. "Kingsley! We have to help Ron look he's hurt!" she shrieked, the desperation clear in her dark, brown eyes. She tugged Shackelbolt's cloak. "It's Ron!"

"We don't have time!" His deep voice roared over the rush of wind. "We have to get our safe house!"

The thestral was picking up more speed, Ron growing farther away. "NO I WON'T LEAVE HIM!" she yelled. She turned back just as she saw Rons body sway to one side.

Then Ronald Bilius Weasely slumped off the broom.

"NOOOOOOO ROOOOOOON!" Hermione's scream seemed to echo as the tears surfaced, refusing to believe that was the end of the man she'd-

"Hermione, Hermione? Wake up!"

Hermione was suddenly jerked awake, greeted by a pair of dark, concerned looking blue eyes.

Ron.

Hermione realized the tears had followed out of her dream. But seeing Ron in front of her looking a little peckish but alive and breathing, caused all reason to fly out the window. She flung her arms around him, "Ron!"

The both toppled on to his sleeping bag.

"Hermione-oof!"

"Oh... sorry."

"Does this mean your not mad?" Ron asked wryly with a small smile.

Hermione sat back up slightly flushed at the position the two were in.

Ron appeared hesitant for a second before his hand came down, "Hey, Hermione." Concern marred the dying smirk on his face.

Hermione soon realized why. She was trembling. As much as she wanted to give into the comfort Ron was offering, if Harry caught them like this, "H-Harry?" she asked, fearing despite her vivid dream Harry would wake up to their display.

"Sleeping like a baby." Ron answered for her, his voice soft and assuring in her ear.

For a moment Hermione closed her eyes hands splayed against the gray nightshirt Ron wore. A part of her wanted to give up all reason and lay her head against his chest. His chest felt warm against her fingertips which made the tempting gesture all the more inviting. "I'm-I'm s-sorry I snapped at you earlier." She tucked a curl behind her ear with a slight nervous tick and pursed her lips, "I was-"

"Hermione," Ron cut in with a sigh, "S' awright, really."

In that instant Hermione felt the warm pulse behind her eyes. Tears. A single droplet slipped down her cheek, the nightmare still surreal in her mind. "I'm sorry I just dreamt... that you died... and it was on our way to the safe house... a-and..." Hermione's voice trailed off with a sniffle searching for more words to add.

Rons movements immediately stilled. Gently grasping her arms he pulled her back so that they were facing each other. "What are you talking 'bout?"

Hermione slowly looked up, swallowing once, twice, wiping the edge of her nose along the side of her finger before she said. "You died, Ron. You never made it back to... Like Made Eye... you were just... gone."

At the mention she felt the steady build of tears again.

"Well I seemed to be in pretty good condition for being dead." he half chuckled failing to make light of a dark outcome. Those blue eyes seemed to assess her tear streaked face further and his expression then softened. "Hermione, I made a promise to Harry that I'd go on this mission and I meant it. And I'd hope that means staying alive."

"And... me?" Her lip trembled. Hermione knew at a time like this is was stupid to ask what had been steadily taking root inside of her. She couldn't help herself. This was probably going to be the only opportunity for the two to be alone much less have a moment to just be. So for once logic was not in reason with her. At least not right now. The dream had felt too real.

A beat of silence passed with Ron swallowing and staring off as Hermiones anticipation grew. Clearly he hadn't expected that question. It appeared as if a million thoughts were spinning through his mind.

Finally Hermione could no longer take it. "Ron," She searched his eyes in hopes to seek answers, "say something, please."

Ron sighed, his expression unreadable for a time before he said, "Hermione... now is not the best time... for this. You of all people know that."

The disappointment was sharp. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from lashing out instead remaining soft spoken as she said,"Know what?" her hands tightening on his shirt feigning ignorance. "Ron, at a time like this I jus' I'd appreciate just something."

The frustration was beginning to take its toll as Rons skin flushed red. He let go of Hermiones arms, running a hand through his red mop of hair," Hermione…ugh, it's a little late to be talking 'bout this." He scrubbed a hand down his face, "You know where our main focus is; on this mission that Dumbledore left us. Right now there can't be..." His voice trailed off as he shook his head.

"Nevermind." Hermione shook her head, releasing her grip of him as disappointment stirred in the pit of her stomach. For once the tables had been turned. While Ron was trying to be the logical one she was acting illogical. "It's probably best we don't talk about this right now." She rose to her feet in a push back of feelings that had developed in its rapidity over the years, re-fixing the covers draped over the couch.

"Hermione, wait." Ron grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. His eyes were screwed up in what looked annoyance but directed at himself. "I know what I said but what I-"

"It's fine," Hermione interjected, waving her hand. "Your right there is no time for..." She decided to cut off there, gesturing between them. "It's not fair to Harry either so let's just stop."

Ron seemed shock by that, his grip loosening, "What'd you mean by that?"

"Nothing Ron, let's just go to bed, I'm too tired to argue." She looked away, taking her elbow out of Ron's hand as she turned around and plopped back on to the sofa. Tucking her legs back into the sheets suddenly weary about the whole ordeal, she listened until Ron finally, quietly, slipped back into his sleeping bag beside her.

She listened to Harry's faint snores and wished Ron would just do that same.

But the seconds turned into minutes and still sleep evaded her. She stared at the ceiling, irked. Her mouth should've been kept shut. With the war they faced there wasn't much time for anything else. She knew that but yet Bill and Fleurs wedding had still given her hope that perhaps there could be. Of course, Bill and Fleur weren't on a mission as accomplices for the Boy Who Lived, their best friend, prophesied to kill the darkest wizard of their time: Voldemort.

From the moment they'd run the three had put themselves in peril danger. Hermione shuddered to think of the repercussions if ever they were caught. She needed to rest, if not for her, then for Harrys sake. He himself had told her she was the brilliant one. "You're the one with the booksmarts and the brains out of us all." he once said. In order for her brain to work she needed sleep. Most of all she needed to focus on less personal issues and more of the dangers that awaited to be avoided at all costs.

"It's not like I don't ever think about it, Hermione." came Rons mellow voice in the darkness.

"Ron… you're still awake…?" Hermione turned on her side, eyes searching for his shape through the dark while still riddled with thoughts.

"Blimey, Hermione, you don't think it hasn't crossed my mind?" He sighed. "What could happen? What life would be like?" There was a shuffle, a shifting of sheets. Then she saw him lift up slightly on his elbows keeping himself eye level with her. "Each day feels like a time limit for me. Each day I wonder how long our families will be safe... us... How Harry's going to conquer him…"

Hermione sighed, she understood that part perfectly and worried about it every waking moment. "I understand, believe me. Although I do wonder if you or Harry ever lost me how would you two fare...?"

"Don't talk like that." His reply was sharp, agitated.

But underneath Hermione sensed a sliver of fear? "Its what scares you, doesn't it? Aside your family of course." Hermione leaned over the couch leaving barely a foot of space between them. Here, she could see Ron more clear as he laid back down. He tucked one hand behind his now tousled, red hair, while the other came to rest on his chest. His blankets were crumbled at his sock-less feet. Yet in the darkness she could see the crease between his brow.

Worry.

"Hermione," he began quietly, "I dunno how it would be if I or Harry lost you."

Warmth spread through her. Without thinking Hermione reached for his hand, having always imagined it would feel secure and strong. She was not disappointed but slightly surprised when she felt his fingers thread securely around hers. Unable to help it she smiled, "Ron, we've been through so much together, but we still manage to come out alive. The both of us and Harry have proven that." With a smirk she added despite her earlier fears, "We're like cockroaches."

Ron nodded with a tired exhale not bothering to respond to the joke, "I know Hermione, I know, but I know it wouldn't help for us to be like this when Harry,well, the git's put so much on his shoulders already-"

"I know," Hermione interjected, soft, "Believe me, Ron, I do its just-"

"What?"

"Nothing. I guess even the smartest witches have their weaknesses."

She chuckled. Years ago she never would've said such things for having always too much pride to juggle. Now that seemed so long ago. Another age. Another life.

"Hermione what is it?" The firm quality in Ron's tone showed he wasn't about to drop it.

As much as Hermione felt grateful that he was curious, she hesitated as the burn in her cheeks grew once more. She'd always feared of saying too much enough to scare Ron off by her forthrightness. But like Ron had explained about time this far it made her reconsider. "That you wouldn't want me once this is all over."

In an instant Rons grip on her hand increased, "Hermione of course I..." He sighed heavily, "I-If we make it through this, Hermione, if by some miracle..."

"It's a possibility then?" Hermione asked softly with a touch of mirth, noting the stuttering in his words. It had always been sort of a cute trait of his.

"Yeah." Ron's sheepish grin appeared through the dark.

Hermione exhaled heavily, "I'm just so tired, Ron, of dancing around the same routine we've had for years. We fight or we argue and then by some miracle-"

"Hermione," Ron interjected, "I can't tell you what the future holds 'cuz I dunno what's goin' to happen. And I do reckon we don't have that much longer to sleep 'cuz Harry's bound to be up soon."

"Right." Hermione slumped back into her pillows keeping Ron's hand tightly secure in her's, "Just… please.., no matter what don't leave, Ron." Sleep was starting to sink in now that the tension in her stomach had settled. However, a part of her feared another nightmare involving Rons death. "Please."

Ron seemed to sense it and squeezed her hand reassuringly,"I'm going to be right here, Hermione..."

Hermione sighed, but before she let sleep fully engulf her there was on more thing she needed him to know. "Ron?

"Yes?"

"I want you to know, I'm grateful you're here with us."

"Thanks, Hermione."

She could hear how her words touched him in that moment and content with his answer sleep engulfed her, "No... Thank you... g'nite... Ro...n..."

Her soft breathing filled the room as Ronald Weasley squeezed her hand once more. He propped his head farther up so he could gaze up at the woman above him, her silhouette prominent despite the darkness, her slim fingers interlocked with his. It had taken years for him to see what now stood before him and yet he was grateful for the time. Because as Ron laid there and stared at the woman who once frustrated him to bits for her incredible intelligence and now made him want to be a better man inspite of his flaws, he realized she would be a part of his future. He wanted it so. Or he'd die protecting her if it came down to it."

He waited for her breathing to deepen before he spoke into the quiet of the night, "How couldn't I not imagine. I'll never leave you, Hermione." he softly whispered just as a slow yawn followed and sleep slowly seeped into his thoughts. As sleep finally took ahold of him Ron made a silent vow right then. If they indeed came out of this alive he would ask her to marry him; despite all the differences in their years growing up he was never more sure she was the only women he'd ever want.

"Yeah... I'll never... leave... Her...mione..."

Sleep finally found him. As the hours thereafter drifted past, slowly, little by little, Hermiones hand slipped from Rons. Yet, their slumber remained peaceful as the both dreamt of what the future could one day be.

For the first time ever…