There were few nights I didn't wake in a cold sweat, shaking with the memories of Bellatrix's cruel laugh. I'd grown accustomed to the lack of sleep, but Ms. Weasley continually scolded me for the incessant dark circles under my eyes. This time, the bubble of anxiety in my chest kept expanding and I frantically threw my legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was freezing on my bare feet as I hastily made my way to the bathroom. I turned the faucet on and allowed the cool water to run over my fingers before placing them on my forehead. A small clock perched on the bathroom shelf read 3:47 and I knew sleep would be a futile attempt at this point.
The house was quiet but for the loud snoring of Mr. Weasley. I looked at my ashen reflection in the bathroom mirror and tried to summon enthusiasm to the surface of my sullen, brown eyes. I frowned at the shell of myself on display. I should be stronger; our fight was far from over and the people I love needed me to support them, not wallow in the stress of recent events.
As I walked past Ron's room, my feet stopped of their own accord and I listened to his soft, peaceful breathing for a moment. I selfishly pushed open his door and saw his sleeping body bundled under twenty-seven blankets. I felt an ache deep in my chest for the sense of lighthearted joy I used to feel in his presence. That fleeting happiness was overshadowed by a debilitating, ever-present fear.
"Ron," I whispered softly, kneeling near his fiery head. He stirred slightly before going back under and I couldn't help myself from trying once more.
"Ron," I persisted and he groggily raised his head up. His eyes met mine and, even in his drowsy state, they were alive and alert like always. My fingers reached out of their own volition and pressed to the side of his face gently. He leaned into my touch and murmured sleepily.
"What's wrong, Mione?" his question struck me as odd until I felt a heavy tear trickle down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away and gave him the best smile I could manage. He didn't wait for a response, as he lifted the blankets for me to crawl in. I eagerly laid down next to him and giggled as his legs pulled away from my cold feet.
He instinctively wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. His hands cradled my face as he placed soft kisses on my forehead and my temple. My mind was full, reeling with the fear of who would be hurt next.
Would Harry finally succumb to Voldemort after all these years of surviving in his wake? Would Bellatrix come back for me in the middle of the night and finish the job? Would Ron die trying to protect me or someone else he loves? Sobs began to wrack my body as the horror of those likely scenarios enveloped me.
"Shhhhh… You're safe, I promise. You're safe with me," he vowed, tightening his hold around me. I buried my face in his neck and inhaled his scent, trying to catch my breath. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back and I allowed the security of his presence to wash over me. In the crook of his neck, I could admit to myself the undeniable love I held for him. He understood my fears and how to assuage them. He understood me.
I seldom let myself be truly vulnerable with anyone, but my walls easily fell in his safe embrace. For everyone else, I postured and feigned a confidence I couldn't always deliver on in the privacy of my own mind. I needed to prove my capability to myself and others, but Ron was the exception. He built me up. He saw the pain I sought to bury and met my vulnerability with a gentle kindness.
When my breathing evened, he shifted slightly to press his forehead against mine. His eyes held the weight of the emotion we kept from one another and I exhaled at its potency. His hand lightly ran down my arm and over the marks etched into my wrist, his breath coming quicker.
"Mione, you can't let them break you. You're so strong and it scares them. Don't let them take away your- your beautiful fire in here." His palm rested against my heart and I felt dizzy with adoration. He smiled meekly at the prominent fluttering within my chest. I let his words fill me with warmth as I pulled his mouth to mine.
At first, I was feverish. My lips collided with his, desperate to feel close to him while I had the chance. But I felt the fire burning through my body and I knew they couldn't extinguish it. That clarity slowed me and I placed my head against his chest, listening to the resounding thump of his heart. I drifted off like that- content in momentary bliss.