Note: This was once a one-shot that although it shared the same name is now completely rewritten. Some parts are the same or similar but there is—I hope—more of a plot to this one. As always, comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you.
Disclaimer: As always JK Rowling is the one who owns the characters. I don't make any money on this but do it for fun/entertainment.
It had been quite some time since the war had ended Hermione thought as she leaned over to brush an errant lock of blond hair from the man's sleeping face. His breathing was labored but even so he still looked peaceful. No doubt his dreams were pleasant-a change that Hermione was glad off as lately sleep had been an all too reluctant friend for her husband. Nightmares of the war had never quite gone away and lately they had returned with a vengeance she hadn't seen in some time. Sighing softly her gaze shifted from the bed to look about the room. It wasn't overly large but it was still comfortable with the large four-poster bed taking up most of the room. On the opposite wall was a fireplace where a cheery fire was blazing to chase away the early morning damp. The floor to ceiling window showed that the highland heather was in full bloom and that the early morning rain had not dampened the spirits of the animals that lived there. Hopefully she'd be able to follow in their example when the time came she thought sadly. Looking back down at the sleeping man she thought back towards their life together. No one—most certainly not herself—would have ever thought that they would have become friends let along gotten married. The betting pool at the hospital had become something of a legend by the time anyone was able to collect their winnings. To no one's surprise the Director of St. Mungo's had collected the largest portion of the winnings although many did grumble that he had an unfair advantage on them. Whatever the case might have been Hermione had been blissfully unaware of the activities that were going on behind her back which in hindsight was a very good thing. She had had enough on her plate trying to figure out why the prominent Healer had taken such a liking to her. Oh it wasn't noticeable at first-he was a Slytherin after all—but here and there hints were dropped. Those hints had become more obvious as their friendship had deepened for all both of them had been reluctant to act on any feelings. The friendship had become quite precious to both of them at that time and for good reason.
As she sat there watching the birds fly in front of the window Hermione recalled how he had held her in his arms as she had wept and wailed over the prone body of Auror Ronald Weasley. Ron had been on a mission with his partner, Blaize Zabini, when they had been ambushed by a grim. Needless to say the mission was not successful. Left heartbroken after her love's death Hermione had been a shell of a woman until her friend—now husband—had told her in no uncertain terms that Ron would not have wanted her to waste her life away. Instead he would have told her to get her pretty little arse in gear and get a move on. The words had been cruel at that time but in the clarity that comes with hindsight Hermione agreed that he had been right. Of course he had always been there for her—holding her when the memories of her torture in the hands of a crazed witch had taken over her dreams, soothing her when she had found out that her parents memories could not be returned to them and crying with her when her best friend had lost the love of his life to an incurable cancer.
He was her rock and now as she watched him Hermione was grateful for all he'd done for her. Of all he'd let her do for him. He had been hesitant to introduce her to his mother but Hermione had insisted and the two women had bonded over a love of coffee, literature and a need to move past old mistakes. As far as Hermione was concerned her mother-in-law had no need to remedy anything then and most certainly not now. While not many would agree with her those who did were the ones whose opinion Hermione actually cared about. It helped that her mother-in-law was a wonderful with children and never minded when an unsure mother called for help in the middle of the night or asked her to watch the screaming prodigies so that the parents could have a couple of hours to themselves. Yes, she was wonderful with children and they all loved her very much as well. Particularly her own grandchildren—Scorpius and Rose—who were currently attending Hogwarts for their third and first years after having been respectfully sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Life had been good to Hermione and she had had no complaints until now. She brushed some loose hair off his forehead and stifled the thought that this could be one of the last times she'd be able to do so.
He was everything she'd ever wanted in a partner and she knew that if he did pass she would never be able to love another man again. With one more look at the sleeping man she stood up and walked towards the small writing desk that stood before the window. The desk held all of the writing implements she needed and as she sat behind it Hermione let her thoughts drift once more.
They had hated each other when they were children and she'd even punched him once in retaliation for his cruelty. A punch that he had long since admitted that he had deserved she thought with a smile before her mind drifted further. She recalled the day that they had visited the park-she had recently found out about Ron's death and would cry over any little thing that reminded her of him. She had hated feeling that unstable—she still did—but he had not questioned it. Instead he had held her as she sobbed her heart out on that park bench. After she had no more tears left he had simply kissed her temple and handed her a white rose. It was similar to the one he had handed her the first time that he admitted to wanting to put aside their past hatred-a symbol of peace he had told her then. That was what it was on that summer's day in the park as well-a symbol of peace and moving past the past. She had loathed that expression before and still did but she did understand its meaning and why it was used so often. She had done just that that day in the park and every day after for all she had missed Ron.
Lifting a sheet of paper she wrote her first words Dear Ron before stopping. Looking out the window she watched as the wind blew over the heather. Turning back towards the page she wrote her next sentence.
That sentence was followed by another until she had written down every single thing that she wanted to say and then some. Every word that she had been afraid to voice aloud for fear of those words coming true were in her letter to a man who had long since passed. She looked down at the pages she had written and tears welled up in her eyes. Words of pain, and fear were there on every page and conveyed her biggest fear—that he would not survive another day. The situation was dire as she had told her long lost love and there was little hope and she was afraid. No—she wasn't afraid. She was terrified of what might happen.
Oddly enough the more she wrote the calmer she felt. Although she was still crying tears that blurred the ink as they fell on the pages Hermione felt better. Calmer. More in control than before. It was as if telling Ron-who could not judge or offer any unwanted advice—had helped put matters in perspective for her.
She did not need to read what she had written as she knew all of the information she had shared with her one time friend. The statistics and the probabilities, the chances and the what-if's and maybe's. She knew all of them but as she wrote her letter it was as if her heart and her mind were making peace with the information. She had the information she told Ron to be able to help him fight. For fight he would as her husband was not a man to give up easily. If he had then he wouldn't have been her tenacious husband and Hermione did not want to contemplate what her life would have been like without him in it. The more she wrote the more she understood that it wasn't over just yet.
Shame came over her at just how close she had come to giving up on him but just as soon as that emotion came Hermione banished it. Neither Ron nor her husband would have wanted her to wallow in self-pity but instead would have told her to pick herself back up and do what she did best. Her eyes traveled towards the man in the bed and a feeling that was very familiar came over her. His breathing was easier she noted and for that she was glad. The night may not be easy and he could use all the rest he could get.
A soft groan traveled across the room and in a flash Hermione was leaning over the side holding the man's hand.
"I'm here, darling," she crooned softly. His silver eyes opened slightly and he valiantly tried to return her smile.
The exhaustion that had plagued him for so long made him want to sleep and never wake up. However, as he looked at those beautiful brown eyes that he loved so very much he knew that he couldn't give up.
Her name traveled past lips that were clumsy from disuse but the smile she bestowed upon him for the effort warmed his heart. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him but couldn't find the words. They were there he knew but they skipped and slid away from him the more he tried to catch them.
"It's alright, love," her smile never wavered, "I understand. I love you too."
He nodded. Even in these circumstances she knew just what he was trying to say. Sleep tugged at him as even these few moments tired out his weakened body.
Sensing his fight to stay awake Hermione brushed away a tear, "It's alright," she assured him, "I love you and I'll be here. Sleep, love, sleep."
He gave another feeble nod just before the Sandman called him away once more. Watching her love sleep into slumber once more Hermione's heart leapt for joy. This was the longest he had been able to stay awake in weeks and as she watched his breathing was calm and unlabored. Hope that had begun to renew itself as she had wrote her letter filled her once more. Letting go of the hand she was holding Hermione walked quickly towards the desk. There the once pristine surface was now a warzone with ink splattered pages and quills strewn about every which way. Lifting her hand she quickly banished the mess and walked back towards where her husband slumbered. Sitting down she took his hand again and called a book to her. She had read this one before but maybe this time she'd be able to understand more clearly the information in its pages. With a kiss to her husband's forehead Hermione settled down to read.
The sunlight that steamed through the window brightened and warmed the room and its occupants. It illuminated the light wood of the furniture and the light dust clouds that existed no matter how much one cleaned. A bird flew by the window and settled on its ledge. Looking in the bird saw a clean room that held one desk that was also clean but save for one page. The page held a letter that had been begun but never finished.
Dear Ron, it read, you had once asked me why I let him be my friend and I had told you then that everyone deserves second chances. You hadn't scoffed then I hope you don't now when I tell you that that friendship grew into so much more. It grew into something more than I ever dreamed of and I wouldn't change any of it for the world. Now, for all of the problems we face I still wouldn't change it one single bit. If the question of why came up I would tell you the truth. I love him and always will.