Hermione Granger opened her eyes, and groaned.

Her life was… difficult. Yes, even after the war. They had defeated the most evil dark wizard of all time, but peacetime came with its own difficulties.

One of which seemed to rear its head immediately.

'Hermione, you okay?'

The bushy-haired witch felt the usual pounding of her heart as she pulled her head off her pillow to look at the redheaded young man currently poking his head through her bedroom door.

'I'm… I'm fine, Ron,' she said, pushing her untameable hair out of her eyes in a futile attempt to look more put-together. 'Just a weird dream.'

'Really?'-The redhead raised a concerned eyebrow-'You were calling my name. I was worried you were having nightmares about the war-'

'I said I'm fine, Ron!' Hermione exclaimed, louder than she intended. She had- in fact- been dreaming about Ron, but definitely not in the way he was thinking about.

Ron pulled away slightly at her harsh tone.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, looking down at his feet. 'Just wanted to make sure you were okay…'

The door shut with a soft click.

Hermione fell back on her pillow, and covered her face with her hands, groaning.

She'd done it again. It had been the case since they'd been teenagers; whenever Ron caught her off her guard, she'd snap at him and get angry. Why could she never let her true feelings be known?

Once again, she had experienced one of her favourite dreams. It involved Ron. And snogging. Lots of it. She thoroughly enjoyed these dreams. When Ron held her close, and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, she felt so complete… so whole… so… loved. Unfortunately, those dreams of having Ron passionately kiss her brains out on their kitchen table were just that: dreams. There was no way they would ever happen in reality. That was the only downside. Waking up and remembering the reality.

The reality of Ron being her best friend, her room-mate, but nothing more.

The crushing weight of knowing she could never have him always hit her hard first thing after waking up. She tried valiantly to get back to her dream- involving a shirtless Ron and rose petals everywhere- but no such luck. The only Ron she could now visualise was the one she had just yelled at for showing concern for her. Hermione really was her own worst enemy at times.

After showering and getting changed, Hermione (hair now finally looking nicer) entered the kitchen. Harry was sat at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of porridge.

'Morning!' he greeted, cheerfully.

'Good morning, Harry,' she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. 'How was your date last night?'

'Great, actually,' Harry grinned, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. 'Ginny's as lovely as ever.'

'Well, duh, mate; she is a Weasley…'

Ron had joined them. He was wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt, which nonetheless still managed to make Hermione's pulse race. There was something about the way he filled out his clothes that just knocked Hermione's socks off. It was the universe was taunting her.

'Good point,' Harry chuckled, putting his now-empty in the sink and washing it in hot water. 'We had a good chat about my new post.'

'We're gonna really miss you, mate,' Ron said, somewhat-dejectedly.

Harry threw Ron an appreciative look over his shoulder.

'I'm gonna miss you both too, but I really have to move in before the term starts. McGonagall wants to make sure all us teachers are up to speed with lesson-plans and paperwork.'

'I know…' Ron pouted, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. 'But it's not gonna be the same without you.'

Harry turned to face them, and raised an eyebrow.

'Bit rude to Hermione, don't you think, Ron?'

'That's-that's not what I-' Ron spluttered. Hermione couldn't help noticing his ears going the tell-tale pink. 'Hermione, you know what I mean, don't you?'

Seeing a blushing Ron earnestly asking for her opinion, Hermione lost her train of thought momentarily.

'E-er, yes!' She eventually squeaked, trying not to feel too self-conscious.

Harry giggled.

It had been the same since they were at school. Harry knew full-well that Hermione fancied Ron (according to him, it was glaringly obvious). Hermione tried not to think about the implications of that; if she was so obvious, why didn't Ron say anything? Was it because he only saw her as a friend, and didn't want to spoil their friendship? Did the idea of Hermione fancying him make Ron uncomfortable? Was she that undesirable to him?

Whenever she had voiced these concerns to Harry, he would just roll his eyes.

'Honestly, it's not that at all, Hermione,' he would say, giving her a brotherly pat on the shoulder. 'You two'll get there someday…'

Sometimes Hermione felt like Harry had more faith in her than she did. For the life of her, she couldn't imagine how Ron could ever see her in the same way she saw him.

Ron was kind, and funny, and loyal, and brave, and utterly gorgeous. He was a war hero, a hilarious joker, and the greatest friend anyone could possibly ask for. Even after all the time Hermione had known him, she had yet to find someone-else who was as brilliant, as humble, and as heart-stoppingly wonderful as Ronald Bilius Weasley.

How could he, in all his wonder, ever fall for a plain know-it-all like her?

Before long, Harry was stood with his trunk (charmed to be feather-light) by their fireplace.

Ron smothered him in a bear-hug, his eyes watery. Hermione could have sworn that Harry muttered something into Ron's ear, but she couldn't hear it over the roar of the magical green flames.

As Ron stepped back, tears falling down his face, Hermione pulled Harry into a hug.

'We'll see you at Christmas,' she said, weepily. 'Just make sure to write, okay? And you always floo round if you want to catch up.'

'Will do.' Harry said. 'Although I wouldn't want to interrupt you and Ron's alone time. Treat him good, okay?'

'What are you-?' Hermione squealed, but Harry pulled away, gave a last wave, and hopped into the fire, calling 'Hogwarts', before disappearing into the green flames.

Hermione stood, still staring into the fire as it returned to normal. What did Harry mean? Ron and her?

She'd long since given up any hope on that. Ron was her friend; that was it, she wasn't anything more to him, and he didn't want to be anything more than that to her. She knew that. She had known that since they were at school. So what did Harry mean?

'Hermione? You alright?'

Hermione felt Ron's soft hand stroke her shoulder. Merlin, why did he have to be so sweet?

'I'm fine, Ron,' Hermione replied, a little sadly. 'I always am…'

The next few days passed with an air of uncomfortableness. Despite how long they had been friends, Ron and Hermione had never actually lived together on their own for any length of time. True, those few months during the disastrous camping trip had technically counted, but Harry had always been there as well.

Aside from their separate bedrooms, they were effectively co-habitating. No other people, just them.

Alone. In a flat. Together.

It was infuriating. Hermione could barely stand how utterly comfortable Ron was about the whole situation. Every day, he would smile cheerfully at Hermione as they met in the kitchen for breakfast, often wearing little more than a pair of pyjama shorts and a tight t-shirt.

Why did he have to blindside Hermione with such a wonderfully attractive image at such an early hour every day? His muscles bulged under the thin layers he wore, and Hermione felt her eyes drawn to the coppery hairs on Ron's lower torso that revealed themselves whenever the redhead stretched his arms over his head. His smile was always that lop-sided speciality of his that had made her stomach do somersaults since they were teenagers. It was as if Hermione was transported back to being fifteen; full of hormones and turning into a complete lovesick mess whenever Ron so much as smiled at her.

It was enough to drive a woman mad.

Those images stuck in Hermione's mind all day. During the middle of ministry paperwork, an image of Ron in all his freckly glory would appear before her eyes, unwilling to move, and resulting in Hermione making many a trip to the bathroom to douse her face in cold water.

Hermione glared angrily at herself in the mirror as the water smudged what little make-up she wore nowadays. She had brought this whole situation on herself, of course; it had been her who had never seriously pursued Ron during their teenage years when there might have been the faintest possibility that Ron liked her back, and now she paying the price for it. The only person she'd ever loved was her room-mate who saw her as a friend and nothing more. It was as if the universe was taunting Hermione by dangling Ron in front of her; so close to her, but always out of reach.

When they were at school, Hermione had always wondered how Ron felt about her. There was a few times where she even dared to hope that he might see her the same way.

For a brief period in their sixth year, she had felt sure that things between them were finally progressing. She'd even asked him to Slughorn's Christmas party. Despite her worst fears, she hadn't messed up the invitation. It had been during a quiet evening in the common-room. Harry had been playing Exploding Snap with Neville, and Hermione had taken the opportunity to casually ask Ron to the party.

'Er… Ron… I was wondering…well, I don't really like these parties of Professor Slughorn's, you see…'

Ron stretched his limbs out like a cat, yawning slightly.

'Well, don't go, then.'

'I would avoid them if I could. They're so boring to sit through… I don't really enjoy speaking to anyone there…'

'What about Ginny?' Ron had said, admittedly slightly sour. Hermione had guessed he still wasn't impressed at being completely ignored by the Professor whilst his little sister was invited to the various parties. 'I'm sure she's invited to them just as much as you.'

'She rarely turns up, what with Quidditch practice.' Hermione had continued, feeling his pulse race as the conversation progressed to her invitation. 'And I don't really like any of the other people there… you see…I-I was wondering, would…would you like to come along?'

Ron's eyes had widened with apparent shock.

'N-not if you don't want to, of course!' Hermione stammered, looking down at her feet. She mentally kicked herself; now it seemed like she didn't want him to join her! 'B-but it would be really nice to have you there…I mean, if you were okay with it…I know you don't like Professor Slughorn much-'

'No, no; I'd like that!' Ron said, sitting up straighter in his seat. 'Er…as long as you're okay with me… coming along, you know?'

Hermione tried not to smile like a lovesick dork. He wasn't disgusted by her suggestion; he actually wanted to go there with her!

'I wouldn't ask anyone-else.'

Ron had smiled at her, his cheeks dimpling as he did so, and Hermione had felt like she had died and gone to a really wonderful afterlife.

But it was all for nought. Out of the blue, they'd both been pulled into a prefect meeting before they'd even had the chance to change into their dress robes, and completely missed the entire party.

Hermione had barely listened to a word the head-boy and head-girl had been telling the prefects. Instead, all she could think about was the crushing sense of disappointment and loss. Out through the window of the meeting-room, Hermione could hear the distant sounds of laughter and music from Professor Slughorn's office. There was clearly some sort of dance happening at the party. Maybe she could have suggested that Ron dance with her. Or maybe he would have asked her. Maybe she could have "accidentally" ended up with Ron under mistletoe, and finally kissed the gorgeous redhead on the lips.

On the way back from the meeting, Hermione should have taken the opportunity to show Ron how much she would have enjoyed the party, and tell him that maybe they could go to the next one together. But instead they had walked back in silence.

Hermione had been too terrified. Too scared to show Ron how she truly felt.

She had cried herself to sleep that night, cursing her own cowardice. Ron had even given her a few expectant looks on the way back, as if to encourage her to bring up their missed opportunity. But all she had done was stare down at her feet, inwardly bellowing insults at herself. How can you be so…so… un-Gryffindor?!

I'm sorry, Ron, Hermione had sobbed into her pillow, I'm sorry I couldn't be that brave…

Their school days had passed with no change. Whenever there was a party in Slughorn's office, Ron was always busy with Quidditch practice, or they were both busy with prefect duties. They never got the chance to go again.

Ginny had reluctantly suggested that Hermione try looking at the other boys, but it was no good. She couldn't look at any other boy, because no other boy was Ron Weasley. No-one else would ever come close.

How could Hermione date anyone else, when she had only ever loved him?

It was likely that she would never love anyone-else. She had fallen for Ron before she had even noticed boys. There was no hope for her.

She was stuck; in love with her best friend who would never see her in the same way.

Hermione tried to push these thoughts to the back of her subconscious. But her subconscious was no longer the safe place that it once was.

Hermione's embarrassing (but quite enjoyable) dreams about snogging Ron had been replaced by intense nightmares. The sort of nightmares that resulted in feverish sweats and horrible mental strain.

It was always the same. Malfoy Manor.

That place… Hermione didn't know if she'd ever come to turns with what had happened to her at that place.

If it hadn't been for Ron desperately screaming her name from the cellar below, she didn't know if she could have withstained the mental and physical torture she had been put under.

Except in these nightmares, Ron wasn't there to scream her name. There was no supporting, comforting voice. No reminder that she was Hermione Granger, that she knew Ron Weasley, and that she had people who cared about her.

Just misery and pain, and Bellatrix Lestrange bellowing the curse over and over.

'CRUCIO!'

Pain. Unimaginable pain. Pain so unbearable that it felt as if it was ripping the soul out of Hermione's body. Like she could barely remember that she was alive.

'Crucio!'

No… please let it stop…

'Crucio!'

Let it end…

'Crucio!'

Death… death was better than this…

Then, suddenly, a voice cut through it all. Bolder, sharper, warmer. A voice that Hermione could never forget.

'Hermione! Hermione!'

Suddenly, Hermione found herself staring into Ron's enormous blue eyes. She wasn't in Malfoy Manor; she was in her own bed. And Ron was kneeling beside her bed, his face lined with worry, and his hand pushing her bushy hair away from her face.

Without hesitating to think, Hermione threw her arms around Ron and buried her face in his chest, sobs wracking her body as she clung to him.

She felt his strong arms fold around her, stroking her back in deep, soothing tones.

'Shhhh…' he whispered soothingly, stroking her hair. 'It's okay…. it's okay… it was just a bad dream…'

Hermione screwed up her face against his chest as she sobbed. She could feel his t-shirt becoming drenched with her tears, but she couldn't pull away. She couldn't forgo this, her sole source of comfort.

'Was it…' Ron asked, tentatively, as if unsure whether or not he should clarify.

Hermione nodded against his chest.

Ron's arms pulled around her more closely, and he buried his face in her tangled hair. It was a forlorn hope, but Hermione thought she could feel his lips press softly against her head.

'I've got you…' Ron breathed, his voice deep and comforting. 'I'll always be here, Hermione… no matter what…'

Hermione felt like her heart was splitting. How could he be so wonderful? Did he really have no idea what his words were having on her? How could she hear him say those things and not fall even further in love with him?

Life was so unfair.

Hermione pulled away, rubbing her eyes with her sleeves. Ron loosened his arms around her, and moved a respectful distance away.

'S-sorry,' Hermione mumbled. 'Did I wake you up?'

Ron shook his head.

'Don't apologise. I was awake anyway, and I could hardly not come running when you were upset, could I?'

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face, and tried to compose herself. She hated being so vulnerable like this, especially so many years after the war had ended.

Ron accio'd a box of issues from Hermione's desk, and handed one to her.

'Thanks,' she muttered, taking it and wiping her eyes, which were already feeling raw and itchy. 'I must look a real state at the moment.'

It was a (admittedly weak) attempt at humour, but Ron took the hint.

'Well, I don't know about that.' he said, grinning slightly. 'You looked a lot worse during exams in third year. Although I'm not exactly an oil painting myself, am I?'

Yes, you bloody are! Hermione mentally screamed. But outwardly she just smiled.

'You're a Weasley. You're all good-looking.'

'What that… a compliment? From Hermione Granger?' Ron said, putting a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. 'I should alert the papers!'

Hermione chuckled. She always could rely on Ron to lighten the mood.

'Besides,' he said, fidgeting with a loose thread on Hermione's duvet. 'You look really pretty anyway, so you're still going to look nice when you're crying, at the very least, don't you think?'

Hermione felt like her heart had just stopped. Did…did he just….say she looked pretty?

Were Ron's ears turning red as well?

Before Hermione could even think of how to react to this startling proclamation, Ron stood up.

'Er…' he said, awkwardly, motioning to the door with his head. 'I should probably leave you to…'

Oh, he wanted to leave so she could get some sleep. Normally, Hermione would have simply nodded, and let him go. But she felt strangely… different.

Once again, without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Ron's hand.

'Please…please don't go.'

Ron's eyes widened as his blue eyes met her brown eyes.

'But you need to-'

'Just until I fall asleep. P-please, Ron.'

Ron seemed to be undergoing some sort of intense mental battle. What it was over, Hermione wasn't sure, but one side clearly triumphed over the other, because in a few short seconds, he nodded his head and sat down on the edge of her mattress.

'Course,' he said, stroking her hand with his thumb softly as she lay down. 'As long as you don't mind…'

'Not at all,' Hermione murmured, enjoying the feeling of Ron's hand on hers. 'Do you mind?'

'Course not.'

Hermione could hear Ron breathing softly nearby her, and his thumb as he continued to move it in soothing motions.

Maybe she didn't have any chance with Ron, but what she did have a wonderful friend who would always be there for her. That wasn't so bad. So what if he didn't fancy her? He still cared for her, and she would take whatever Ron was willing to give her in their friendship. Hand-holding, hugs, whatever; she'd gladly accept them and treasure every moment.

As much as she wanted to stay like this, Hermione felt her eyes reluctantly cloud over, and she fell into a dreamless, calm sleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke up to find herself alone. She could hear Ron talking to someone in the kitchen, and assumed that he was conversing with Harry through the floo network.

'But come off it…' Ron was saying. Hermione couldn't really hear what Harry was saying, but the voice of the youngest Weasley son was crystal-clear. 'I mean… that's not… well, yeah, I am but… but what about… no, I never got that sorted but that was my own bloody fault, wasn't it… wait, there's got to be some other way…'

Feeling lazier than normal due to her deep sleep, Hermione pulled her silk robe around her, and wandered slowly into the kitchen.

The tall redhead was standing in front of the fire, his back to Hermione.

'Good morning, Ron,' she greeted cheerfully, trying not to blush when she remembered how she had clung to him only a few hours previously.

'Er… morning,'

Ron's tone was a lot less cheerful than she expected. Hermione turned round. Upon further expectation, the redheads' face had gone pale, and his eyes were wide in apparent shock, staring into the now-empty fireplace as the green flames disappeared.

'Ron, what's wrong?' Hermione asked, looking at him with concern. 'Has something happened to Harry?'

'Wasn't Harry,' Ron mumbled, looking dazed.

'Then who-?'

'Mum.'

Ron swallowed loudly as he turned to her. His eyes, confused and scared, slowly arched up to meet Hermione's. He looked like all life had gone from his face.

'Ron,' Hermione pleaded, putting a comforting hand on his wrist. Had something happened to the Weasleys? Had someone died? 'Ron… please… what's happened?'

Ron stared at her like the world was ending.

'She said….she said that… I'm going to be put into an arranged marriage'.