At Grimmauld Place
He'd made up the couch for her. For her. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she walked in the dusty, cramped living room and saw him standing there, hands reaching out and then retracting, as if trying not to fluff the pillow just once more. When he turned and saw her standing in the doorway with that little smile on her face, the tips of his ears went pink and he made a sweeping motion with his hand. Hermione stepped around him and lay down, secretly overjoyed when he took the space on the floor next to her couch.
"Thanks for dinner – it was great," he said, smiling over at her.
"No problem," she whispered in reply, watching as Harry walked and lay down on Ron's other side.
The lights clicked off and she rolled onto her back, sighing. She let one of her arms hang over the side of the couch, trying to look carefree and nonchalant in doing so, even though no one could see her in the inky darkness of the room. She heard Ron's sharp intake of breath as her fingers brushed his hand, and drew hers back slightly. She hoped her plan would work.
Deepening her breaths, she closed her eyes. Almost drifting off to sleep, she was about to pull her hand back up into a more comfortable position when Ron spoke.
"…Hermione?" It was the softest of whispers, hardly a breath in the stillness of the room. Her eyes snapped open; hopeful, wanting.
Holding her breath, she didn't reply. He would only do something if he thought she was asleep. The damn coward.
Suddenly she felt his fingers brushing the back of her hand, tracing circles on her palm and sweeping over her fingers with gentle motions. She smiled into the dark, aware that he couldn't see her face, and opened her eyes.
Enclosing her hand in his, Ron held on tight. Hermione fell asleep with warm feelings tingling at her heart, that small smile still on her face.
After Ron returns
She hadn't spoken two words to him since he'd walked in the tent after explaining everything. She was so angry and so happy at the same time it was hard to know whether to run inside and throw her arms around him or remain in this moody silence forever. Either way, she wasn't going to be the first to apologise after this particular row. It was always her; the mature one, the sensible one, the forgiving one. Not this time.
Just as she was drawing the blanket in closer around her shoulders she heard the flap of the tent rustle behind her. Despite herself, she couldn't help but hope it was Ron. When she saw him that morning all she wanted to do was kiss him, put her hand in his and leave it that way for all eternity. But she wasn't so sure that's what he wanted – it was possible the locket had made him see those things, about him being angry over her and Harry. It was possible.
Suddenly someone was sitting down beside her, and she turned. The bright blue eyes that greeted her were remorseful, the eyes of a little boy who had just broken his mother's best porcelain and now had to confess his crime. She almost smiled – almost.
"I made you… tea," he finished lamely, pressing the warm cup into her frozen hands and tucking a stray hair behind her left ear.
She felt the blood rush to her face and turned her head so he wouldn't see.
"Thanks," she said quietly. She noticed he'd forgotten to bring a blanket for himself.
"I'm so sorry. Hermione, you gotta believe what I said. I need you to forgive me."
His teeth were chattering and she was worried he would catch something, so she put down her tea and shuffled closer to him on her knees, noticing the naked fear and – was it hope? – in his eyes. She flung the worn blanket over his back and tucked it around him, with only a small smile. Then, picking up her tea, she turned to walk back into the tent.
Just before she disappeared from view, she turned to look at him. She noticed his eyes had followed her all the way to the tent.
"I wish I could say I'll never forgive you, Ronald."
After the Malfoy Manor
The face that was only inches from her own was contorted with rage, sneering and shrieking until Hermione didn't think her eyes could take it anymore. She felt a tear roll down one cheek, and she knew it was going to be hard not to scream – she wanted to, so badly. But she didn't want to let this witch know she was weak, small, and afraid.
But when Bellatrix leant over her left arm, wand in one hand, Hermione couldn't stop the rush of hurt and fear that catapulted out of her throat. Her scream sounded foreign to her – she'd never really heard it before – and it was piercing and broken. Broken, just like her.
The buzzing in her ears was finally interrupted by the scuffle going on above her. Hermione couldn't bring her vision into focus, but she knew; he was fighting for her. He and Harry, they were here. Suddenly she felt claws in her hair, dragging her up and forcing her head back. Gasping for air her world became clear again, and she saw him, cheeks dirty and red, eyes alight with rage. The cool blade of Bellatrix's dagger pinched and itched at her throat, and she almost choked.
She couldn't comprehend the squeak above her even though Bellatrix had pulled her head back so far she thought her neck would break. Ron's breathing was loud and laboured in her ears, a reminder that he was still there. When she was thrust forward, out of the arms of her captor, she stumbled and began to fall, but he caught her under her arms and pulled her away from the mass of falling metal and glass. Her hands tightened on the sleeves of his shirt as she tried to regain her balance and hide her face.
Dimly aware that Dobby was standing above her, clutching a wand and speaking in angry tones, Hermione turned her face further into Ron's shirt, too afraid to loosen her hold. He lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear, and tightly wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her upright.
"It's ok, I'm here. I've got you now Hermione. You're safe."
And somehow, even though she could feel Bellatrix's eyes scorching her face, the sting of that word scrawled upon her arm, and her own laboured breathing, she believed him.
When Dobby's funeral was over, Hermione had pretended to fall asleep, closing her eyes and making her breathing slow and long, so that they would leave. He didn't want them to, but Harry's eyes were clouded from the mess of thoughts tripping their way through his mind, and Fleur and Bill were tired. Ron's face was dirty and haggard, and she wanted him to stop worrying about her. But as the door closed softly behind his receding back, she opened her deep brown eyes and let the tears fall, muffling her sobs with her pillow.
She knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep, not alone – not after what happened. Every tap of the rain against the glass of the window was Bellatrix come to torture her, and every howl of the wind was her manic laugh as she gouged a single word into her arm: mudblood.
Sliding out from underneath the covers in her tracksuit pants and tattered shirt, Hermione made her way across the room, heart beating faster with each step. Would he mind if she woke him up, sitting with him, sobbing? Would he simply bring her back to her room, and leave her again? Hermione didn't know. Turning the doorknob slowly, she stepped out into the corridor, bumping into the figure that had been sitting with their back to the door.
Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but before a sound could escape a warm hand had closed across her mouth, forcing back the noise. Her heart was beating triple time and the tears were streaming down her face with terror.
"Hermione, it's me, Ron. Shhh, I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake the others. Don't scream – it's Ron."
The frantic whisper was husky and low, and Hermione knew it really was him. Nodding, the warm hand quickly disappeared and she was enveloped in his arms, breathing in the scent of broom polish, dust and months of travelling that had wormed its way into his shirt. He had guided her back to sit on her bed without her even realising, and she kept her face buried in his chest, small cold hands clutching the front of his now soaking shirt.
"I'm so sorry 'Mione… I didn't mean to scare you," Ron said, his hand tracing large circles on her back, "What were you doing out of bed anyway?"
"I w-was looking for you," she admitted, sniffling, "I couldn't sleep and I'm so scared and I didn't want the others to worry…"
"You were looking for me?" Ron asked in surprise. "I was sitting outside your door 'cause I was worried about you. But… I thought you didn't want me to be here with you."
Hermione simply shook her head, and felt his cheek press into her hair and his arms tighten around her. She sighed as the tears finally stopped leaking from her eyes, and she yawned.
"You haven't gotten any sleep – here, lie down." She felt Ron lowering her onto the pillow, pulling himself down so he was almost on top of her. Hermione's heart began to race again, possibilities thrumming through her mind.
But all at once he straightened up, standing to tuck the covers around her. Then he lay down beside her again, but on top of the duvet, with one arm around her waist. He drew her in close, so her nose was touching his chest, and he ran one hand through her unruly hair.
"You can sleep now – I'll stay awake. Everything's gonna be fine."
After the battle
Ron had never felt so torn in his life. He needed to see Hermione, make sure it hadn't all been a dream, but at the same time, Ginny was crying and sobbing on his shoulder, and he knew he couldn't let her go. He saw Hermione's hair whip round behind her as she ran from the Great Hall, off to wherever she thought she wouldn't be a hassle to anyone.
When Harry appeared Ginny half threw herself at him, tears still streaming from her eyes. Feeling raw and empty, Ron saw his mother nod towards the door with a plea in her eyes; find her. Make sure she's alright.
Ron slipped away, running up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, where he hoped she'd be. He realised now how brave she'd been this whole time – she'd been their rock, and he'd left her, made her angry, made her cry even, and she'd still kissed him – she'd actually kissed him. He tried to banish the thought as he saw her huddled in the furthest corner of the common room, dirt streaked across one cheek, a bloody cut on the other. She was so beautiful.
He moved over to her quickly and knelt in front of her, and she raised her eyes to his. She turned her tear-streaked face away and hunched over further, turning her body slightly towards the wall.
"Go, Ron. They need you now."
Ron hesitated, but then he remembered – she had kissed him. It was now or never.
"They've got each other. Besides… I need to be with you right now."
"Why?" she asked, not looking at him.
"Because I need to be with the one person that makes me… makes me feel safe." He choked out the last words, unable to hold the tears in anymore. He stood and leant his forehead against the rough stone of the wall, ashamed.
He didn't realise she'd come up behind him until he felt her hand on the small of his back. His heart started to race and his ears burned. She ducked under his arm so she was standing in front of him. He noticed how close she was to him.
"I'm sorry I'm so pathetic. I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry… I couldn't protect you."
He enveloped her in his arms, one hand pressing her head gently into his chest, one around her back. He wanted to kiss her again so badly, and he couldn't help wondering if she wanted to kiss him again too. Unlikely, he thought. But either way, this wasn't the time to find out.
"You saved my life Ron, in Malfoy Manor. You sat outside my room that night and then stayed with me. You make me so angry Ronald Weasley, but you're anything but pathetic."
He couldn't believe he was hearing this. She seemed to be defending him, and she was hugging him back. He needed her so much, and he was beginning to think that she needed him too. The skinny arms she had wrapped around his waist clutched him tightly, and he wanted to stay like this forever; just the two of them, away from the hurt and the anger and the pain that remained below. Ron realised then that he needed to face all that now.
"I should get back to my family."
"Oh. Yes – yeah, you should." She looked down, out of guilt, or sadness, he wouldn't quite tell. Her arms slackened around his waist and she stepped out of the circle of his arms.
He walked across the Common Room before looking back. Hermione had moved to the window, where she stood, looking out over the grounds.
At the sound of his voice she turned. "You coming? It's just…" he held out his hand, "I don't think I can do this alone."
After it's all over
The remaining members of the Weasley family, Harry and Hermione had returned to the Burrow after days at Hogwarts, farewelling the dead and planning their return to the school in the summer to restore the castle and its grounds to their former glory. Knowing that company was what everyone need at that moment, especially George, they had gathered around a burning fire, sitting close and in silence. When Hermione rested her cheek on his shoulder Ron felt his ears flame, and tried to calm his racing heart. They hadn't kissed again since the battle, and neither of them had broached the subject either.
"Ron," his mother whispered, her cheeks stained with tears, "I think it's time you went to bed. Take Hermione with you."
Ron nodded and slid out from underneath Hermione's weight, collecting her against his chest and jumping slightly as she snuggled closer to him in her sleep.
Ginny and Harry followed Ron up the stairs hand in hand. Ron's gaze met Harry's and they both smiled, but there was a hollow sadness behind their eyes. Ron was surprised when Ginny and Harry stopped on the landing outside Ginny's room and turned to the door together. Deciding against it, he closed his mouth and continued up the winding staircase until he reached his door.
He lay Hermione down on the bed, brushing some stray hair off her forehead. He noticed how peaceful and beautiful she looked in the moonlight that move its way through the curtains across the room. Spreading out a spare blanket on the floor beside her, he lay down thinking about how even this short distance between them was too much for him to bear.
Before he could close his eyes and try to sleep, he heard Hermione stir. He knew, having shared a tent with her for almost a year, that she was awake. He knelt beside her as soon as her first sob escaped, smoothing the worry lines from her forehead and whispering comforts. Her body was shaking and her hands clutched at his, pulling him closer. The force she exerted caught him by surprise and he half fell on the bed next to her. Worried about her reaction, he pulled himself upright, maintaining his grip on her hands.
"No Ron," she pleaded, pulling him closer again.
"Ok, it's ok." Ron leaned in, seeking reassurance. "Should I… get in?"
Hermione's only answer was a sob and a shuffle over in the bed to make room.
Heart beating double time, Ron let her hands go for a moment, lifting the covers and climbing in beside her, feeling the shivers of cold and pure fear radiating off her. Immediately she moved to be beside him, her hand back in his and her body close. She cried into his bare chest and he let his tears escape into her hair, trying to calm her and failing. Only when she had no more tears to shed did she pull away slightly, gazing up at him in the dim moonlight.
"Ron… when I kissed you a few days ago…" she paused, blushing deeply, "It wasn't just the heat of the moment. I really… ok. Ron, I-" She seemed lost for words, and was trying to continue when Ron interrupted.
"'Mione, I've never been very good at this stuff. But I really do… love you, you know."
Without waiting for her to reply, he placed his lips softly on hers and left them there for a moment.
Then, pulling out of the kiss, he pulled her more comfortably to his chest and shut his eyes, savouring the moment. She sighed happily and slung one arm around his waist, eyelashes fluttering against his neck.
"I love you too, Ron."
They stayed that way until the sun rose and the light wormed its way slowly across the room to greet them.
In the summer
That summer, students, parents and teachers had returned to Hogwarts to help with the rebuilding work. Since magic couldn't be used to repair the castle, physical labour was the only option. Hermione stopped scrubbing the stairs leading from the Great Hall for a moment, wiping a few beads of sweat from her forehead, and let her eyes wander across the room. Ron and Harry were standing at the entrance to the castle, rebuilding the doorway stone by stone. She watched as Harry struggled to lift a block, and Ron approach, waving him away and bending to lift it. Much stronger than Harry, he brought it to his chest, his muscular arms straining against the tight sleeves of his white t-shirt.
"Hey," Ginny said, smirking, "Quit admiring the view and get back to work."
"Oh, shut up," Hermione responded, slinging water from her bucket in her direction.
Filch, choosing that moment to wander through the entrance, grunted his disapproval at the two giggling girls.
"Lunch in half an hour. You've been instructed to take a break 'til then." He didn't exactly look happy about it.
The girls abandoned their buckets and sponges and raced down the stairs to meet the boys. Harry and Ginny waved at Ron and Hermione before taking off together across the grass. Hermione glanced up at Ron, worried he might want to take off after them, and was surprised to find his gaze on her. Not saying a word, he took her hand and pulled her behind him across the grass, stopping only when they reached the big old oak at the edge of the lake, with no one else around.
Hermione leaned back against the trunk, breathing in the sweet smell of the summer blossoms and savouring the heat of the sun on her skin. She closed her eyes and smiled when she felt Ron's shadow cross her face.
"You're blocking my sun," she said, pouting a little.
"And yet I'm not sorry at all," he teased back.
Opening her eyes, she smiled widely at him, and watched as he put his hands on the trunk either side of her. No longer the shy and anxious boyfriend he was merely months ago, he leaned in for a kiss, smiling against her lips.
At the Burrow
It was the first night Hermione and Ron had got some alone time at the Burrow, and it had quickly resulted in another row. Ron knew it was his fault, but he felt as though he had good reason, this time. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Hermione stomping noisily upstairs, off in a huff and ignoring him. Close behind, he caught her wrist and turned her to face him in the landing.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but Krum is a pompous arse who would like nothing more than to get in your knickers."
"Don't you dare say things like that to my face, Ronald!" she all but yelled at him, ripping her wrist out his grasp and turning to stomp up the stairs again, but not before Ron noticed the flicker of a smile pass her lips. Ron had always known Hermione revelled in his jealousy.
Ron met her just before she reached the stairs and turned her to face him forcefully. The look of surprise on her face temporarily masked the rage that lay beneath, and when he kissed her, it melted away altogether. He pulled out of the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, watching her eyes open and a flush of embarrassment work its way across her cheeks.
"You know I hate it when you do that," she said, smiling slowly at him.
"Do what?" he asked innocently in response.
"Make me forget why exactly I was angry at you," she laughed, kissing him again.
"C'mon 'Mione. I made hot chocolate before you started yelling. If we're lucky, it'll still be warm," Ron said, taking her hand and leading her back down to the kitchen.
"Oooh," he added as an afterthought, "Maybe there'll be cookies too."
