Prologue

Tonight was worse than last night. Worse than the night before. Worse than he'd ever seen. She had woken up screaming, as she always did, first just kicking at the sheet around her feet and escalating to the point where she began to lash out, punching and kicking everything in her path and shouting out into the night. He was beside her in a second, leapt from his bed and ran to hers. She'd requested it be that way, that she have her own bed, that he didn't disrupt his own sleep to help her. Just another bad dream, she'd say.

He tucked her hair calmly behind her ears and climbed into the bed beside her, encasing her shaking body in his arms. She was still for a moment, beside the shivering and the heavy breaths. It wasn't over, though, and he could feel it. Her hands fought against his arms in fists, reaching out for the pillow that her head lay on. When he fought back, she gritted her teeth and threw out her legs, bashing them against the wall and the screaming commenced again.

"It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's all right. It's just a bad dream. Remember, Hermione? A bad dream, that's what you call it, that's all it is." He tried to remind her, and she paused for a moment, but it didn't last. Hermione began to mutter odd things, words of plea and begging for mercy. All he could do was hold her tighter and stroke her dark curls gently, trying desperately not to break down himself. He had to stay strong, had to do this for her.

"No. No. PLEASE!" her screams flew threw the air, intertwining and piercing his ears as he stroked her shaking arm. Her whole body was shaking and shivering furiously under his grip.

"Sh, it's okay," he held his hand towards her cheek, to come into contact with the cold tears falling from her sweating face. It was that nightmare. That dream. Hermione wasn't the only one haunted by it, but his dreams couldn't compare in the slightest to hers. He wasn't the one who had been tortured that day, but he had been the one listening to her hopeless wails - knowing that there was nothing he could do, wishing there was. Wishing he had stopped it sooner.

Her body was becoming less tense, her breaths becoming in rhythm with his hand on her cheek. Tears still flowed but the screams began to drown in sobs. The only thing that worsened was the shaking, and as she turned her body to face his she raised her trembling arms to meet his hugs. He pulled her towards him without a second's hesitation, hand tangling in her hair as she cried into his shirt.

"Thank you, Ron," she managed, in a barely audible whisper. But he heard her. She clenched his shirt and tried to push the tears far back, but it was useless. Ron just continued to play with the strands of her hair, distracting her a little.

"Just a dream. Right, Hermione?" he pulled her head away just a little, enough to plant a kiss upon her forehead and see the corners of her mouth tug. Her head returned to his chest and her breathing began to even out. The violent shaking was now feeble shivering, most of the life drained out of her. Ron twirled one of the many loose strands in her hair and stifled a yawn.

"Just a dream," she agreed, and she soon fell asleep in his arms.