A/N: I'm on a R/H streak with all these ideas popping into my head all week! Anyways, thanks once again to Pointless Nostalgic, my recurring and favourite beta =)
Summary: Ron has Apparated himself and Hermione to Shell Cottage. Another missing moment, and a companion piece to The Thrills. Ron's POV. Ron/Hermione.
Feel
By: Crossed-Eyed Bear
Her. Dull aches. Dizzying mind. Ron Weasley was only capable of feeling a handful of things at the moment for he had just been jerked from one place to another in only a matter of minutes. His wand must be somewhere around here... His eyes remained determinedly closed as he threw a hoarse cough from his throat. He lay on his back, still clutching Hermione Granger's limp body to his front. Wand. Releasing his hand carefully from her, he groped aimlessly for his wand until he wrapped a bloody hand around it.
Her. Dull aches. A dull pain throbbed behind his eyes, having clenched them for so long. For her sake, he prayed that when he did open them, he would see Bill and Fleur's cottage by the sea. To his relief, when he allowed his eyes to finally open, he saw the dimly lit windows of the cottage as two figures ran towards them in the distance. Overwhelming relief. He suddenly became very aware of the warm, salty wetness that drenched his face, stinging the scars along his cheeks and jaw. The pain did not stop him, though, and he was sobbing violently now. He held her face towards him, frantically searching it for any signs of life, hoping her eyes would open any moment. He remained silent, tracing the scars on her face with his fingertips, fearing the sickening meaning of her not answering if he called her.
Her name slipped out before he could help it; he had to know. "Her-Hermione," he said, his voice cracking.
No answer. He dared not feel for a pulse.
Her. He closed his soaked eyes, spilling several more tears that streamed down his face. It stung like hell. He could only feel her now--feeling her weight on him, feeling her small hands resting over his chest, feeling her thick hair covering his hand, feeling her warm, faint breath against his neck. He froze and instantaneously threw his eyelids open again. He lifted his head with much effort and looked down, watching her chest rise and fall against his own breathing. It seemed an incredible feat to move any muscle within him at this point, but he could not help a weary smile that spread across his face. His eyelids slowly drooped again and he saw darkness once more.
Her. Joy. Hope…he could not feel the pain, the fear and uncertainty of their future, or the sense of impending doom right at this moment, though they would all surely return in full force once he'd awakened. At the moment, he only wanted to feel the unadulterated joy from things he was quite certain of--her breath warming his skin and her heart beating against his own.
End.