They lay in the tent that night, terrified.
Terrified of what could become of the world they knew, what horrors they might find when they awoke the next morning, if they awoke. Fear haunted their sleep and ruled their lives. They knew it was only a matter of time before they ran out of moves. He would get them. He would take their friend, their world, and their lives. They were terrified.
This, they could admit. All of their fears and nightmares, about losing family, friends, hope, security; they allowed themselves to speak of that... they allowed themselves to make it real.
What they couldn't express- what they didn't dare talk about- was their fear of losing each other.
And it was more than fear, or terror. The thought of them losing the other shocked them to their core. The horror was unimaginable, unspeakable.
Instead, they ignored it. They, those two, joint at the hip, forever attached, forever oblivious, ignored the slow, aching burn that stayed in their chest until they fell asleep at night; only to have it reignited the next day. Every time they would open their sleep blurred eyes at dawn and see the other, the ache would burst, only to hurt even more that day than the last.
They lay in the tent that night, terrified.
Ron, his body to long for the tiny shelter, curled himself deeper into the nest of blankets, watching her sleeping figure. Always watching, always protecting, always terrified. For him, his family he left behind, but never more so than for her. She lay next to him, her body tucked into the smallest shape it could manage. A frown graced her face, her features far from relaxed and at peace. He wished he could give her the dreams she deserved. Ron ached to brush her hair from her face, to move closer to her, to hold her in her sleep. But that was breaking the rule. That one rule that disallowed them creating something precious that could be lost in these horrible times. He didn't want to lose love. The consequences of simply letting his hand meet hers could be devastating.
The shuffle of sleeping bags and pained whimpers could be heard from the left. Harry having another nightmare; just one more thing that Ron could not save him from. He felt helpless, hopeless.
The wind whistled through the fir trees and whipped and wrestled with the tents. Ron stayed awake into the early hours of the morning, watching the new sun light up her face. He never dared move an inch from where he lay. When the birds began to chirp, she shifted in her slumber. Her bare arm grazed his and he felt the familiar prickle of his hairs stand on end. She settled there, against his warm body, her head on his shoulder. Finally, with relief and a swell of his heart, he saw her frown
smooth out and her nightmares disintegrate.
That was the first night.