The scream cut through the air, cut him to the bone, froze his blood and stopped his heart. For a second, he stood still; caught between nightmare and reality, before he forced himself into a run. By the time Ron Weasley made it to the bottom of the stairs and into the Burrow's kitchen, there was already a commotion of worried red head's gathered around the sink.

He shoved through them and grabbed Hermione by the arms.

"'Mione!"

She stopped screaming his name and grabbed the front of his shirt, clutching him as the strength went from her legs. He braced the arm not holding her against the edge of the sink and held her. Over her shoulder he saw the peeling knife, laying where it had fallen smeared with tell-tale blood, and the blood spotted on the sink. He swore softly.

"Hermione?"

She gave a sob in reply. He pulled away a little and took the hand that she had cut so deeply. The blood welled along a dead straight laceration on the palm side of her thumb. She shook in his arms. He looked into her brown, brown eyes and read the terror behind this very un-Hermione outburst.

For a moment, an awful moment, she'd been back in a forest clearing with his blood on her hands, his life in her hands. Still shaking, she used her non-bleeding hand to push back the collar of his shirt and ran a finger over the scar his Splinching had left behind. He held her hand over the raised wound and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes at his touch.

"C'mon, 'Mione. I'm alright" he muttered, ears going a little red when he remembered his family was behind him. He was about to give them a glare over his shoulder out of instinct, when he realised they were alone. Alone, and without Fred, George wasn't about to take the mickey out of him.

His shoulders slumped and he pulled his wand out of his back pocket. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he gave the wand a silent flick and they watched as her wound closed over. Neither of them spoke as he pocketed his wand again.

The war had taught him a lot.

"Ron, I...it just..."

She swallowed hard and trailed off. He nodded slowly, understanding. Then he glanced at the knife still sitting on the bench and picked it up.

"Why were you doing it this way anyway?"

He had a sneaking suspicion, but he wasn't sure whether he should jump to conclusions or not. Whatever it was that they had, it was still new. He didn't want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing about such a raw issue.

Ron watched Hermione's eyes fill with pain as she stared at the knife in his hand.

"Mum and I...used to do it together, standing there...just talking...and Dad would come in and..." she stopped and clenched her teeth. Putting the knife down, Ron went to her and drew her against him. She'd had to tell him that she liked it when he did this, needed it even. So he was glad he was doing the right thing as she buried her face in his chest and drew strength from him.

"Thanks Ron" she said quietly after a moment.

"Yeah, you're right. You're okay, now, aren't you?"

She paused. Okay? Her parents didn't remember who she was. They were living in Australia and there was no way of reversing the Memory Charm. She'd gone as far as thinking about asking Harry to reopen Dumbledore's tomb to retrieve the Elder Wand, but it was a thought she'd never voice. Possibly because Harry would do it for her. Possibly because she felt deep down that Dumbledore's final resting place had been violated enough.

"Stupid question. Look, why don't ya go up and read with Ginny? She was trying to get me to help her with her History of Magic book. I mean, me? She's gone loony, I swear"

Hermione gave him a look and then forced a smile to make him feel better. Leaving him in the kitchen, she headed up the stairs, hoping nobody would comment on her breakdown.