I haven't written ANYTHING in a long time (almost four months) so I'm really sorry that this little piece is so short but I'm just starting to get my writing grove back so please please review this piece; even if you hated it. For anyone who reads this and is reading my other stories, Friendship with a twist, or Back and Forth I promise to update those soon. Email me if you have anything to say about those stories.

Anyway I own nothing, don't sue.

The characters are in their 7th year and the war is going on.

Enjoy.

Numb

The shower water burned; at least that's what the seventh year Gryffindor guessed as she sat with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. She didn't know for sure if the water was boiling, since he wasn't making any noises but the steam that filled the room made her think it did. He had trained himself to not feel. To not feel anything, pain, love, hurt or even happiness; he was numb. Even if the water were hot enough to make a good, strong, scorching cup of tea he'd never admit it and she knew that. She let her head drop into her knees as she shifted, her black tank top sticking to her body. She heard the water turn off but didn't left her head from it's spot; it had been a long day.

"All clean," she smiled at the voice, still his voice, always his voice even thought it had a tendency to become hard and strong now a days.

"The water was hot enough," she stated, lifting her head to look at him clad only in a white towel, which was wrapped around his waist.

"Didn't really notice," he shrugged his shoulders and flashed her a smile as he whipped away the steam from the mirror.

"How could you not?" she asked, getting to her feet and coming up behind him.

"I just didn't." he didn't look at her through the mirror, instead turned on the cold water. She could smell the clean freshness of the cold water right away since it was such a big contract to the scorching room they stood in.

"Not to cold." She whispered as she touched his back gently.

"Stop it Hermione, I don't need you to be my mother." He snapped, this time looked at her through the mirror as he turned off the water.

"Sorry," she pulled her fingers back right away and even though she saw the flash of regret in his beautiful blue eyes she still turned to leave.

"Wait, just wait." He grabbed her wrist gently before she could disappear on him all together.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but you have to stop worrying." He pulled his hand down his face and let out a tired sign.

"I can't, I don't know how to." She whispered, pulling her arm away from him and leaving the bathroom. He reached for his black sweat pants that sat folded and pulled them on before following her.

"You're not staying?" he caught her before she had a chance to open the door.

"Didn't think you really wanted me here tonight." She turned to look at him; keeping her hand on the doorknob behind her.

"I always want you here." He locked his light eyes with her dark chocolate ones before moved to his bed. He hadn't even reached his bed when he heard the door creak open slowly and practically flew to it, pushing it shut and holding his hand against it.

"Don't go, I need you here." He looked down at her, seeing as his 6'1 frame towered over her 5'7 one.

"Need? You? You haven't let yourself need something in a long time, Ron." She whispered.

"You're my exception, then. Don't go." He brushed a piece of curly brown hair out of her face and off her shoulder and she leant into his touch. She moved away from him and towards the bed, crawling into it right away. He smile but pushed it away knowing that life had a cruel way of taking things away from him when he got to happy and moved to join her under his Gryffindor red sheets.

"Come here," he muttered, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her into him. His chin rested on her shoulder as his legs tangled themselves with hers. Everything outside of that room at that moment didn't exist; the war, the fighting, the death, none of it existed. This was his heaven, his safe place and she was his air, his feeling. When he was with her as they listened to the war going on outside his window he wasn't so crazy, he wasn't so hard and strong, he was a little bit more human. With her he felt, with her he wasn't dead inside; he was alive. With her he wasn't so numb.

-Girlygirl