"Like tomorrow was a gift
And you've got eternity to think about what
you did you with it
What you did with it…. What did I do with it"
They were only guaranteed twenty-four hours of peace before the protective barriers cast by the Aurors would be discovered and broken. Each had enough magic surrounding them to travel as they liked, where they liked, but the idea of leaving each other made them nervous. After almost a year of constant dependence and being surrounded by each other, twenty four hours seemed too long.
Life had changed, although they weren't quite sure if it was for the better. Along with their independence and near-isolation came power and cunning. Hermoine's problem-solving abilities had been put to the test so many times that it was impossible to count. Harry's sheer power and bravery had saved them from close calls and was what inspired the others. Ron was the best at simply being himself: the confidant, the shoulder to cry on, and the humorist. What they needed most now was dependability and Ron was the perfect candidate.
Yet with their increased survival skills and strengthened friendship came traits that killed them to observe in each other. Harry refused to sleep alone and went nowhere without his wand clearly visible and reachable. Ron's possessive tendencies magnified as his greatest fear became losing Hermione and inferiorities strengthened as he felt he could never measure up to Harry and save someone's life. Hermione constantly looked behind her, always with the same, terrified look, and her naturally over-analytical mind never stopped working, even in sleep where her dreams were fitful and she constantly lashed out.
Much discussion had taken place before a plan had been laid out. each had special places they wanted to visit- Hermione wanted to see her parents, Ron needed to hug each of his siblings and tell them her loved them, and Harry just wanted to be with his family. Since the Burrow seemed to be the place all three felt a compulsion to visit, it was decided that a majority of the time would be spent there. Hermione had become too dear to the boys for them to deny her anything, for she made their lives as comfortable as possible; therefore London was their first stop. An early rising was planned and the trio climbed into their sleeping bags nervous and fearful.
Hermione lay awake for nearly an hour as she thought of what to say to her parents. The fight was soon approaching, most likely soon after the barriers were gone, and the idea of telling her parents that she might never see them again terrified her. She tried to quiet the sob that escaped and seemed to echo from the shack's walls. Deciding that she had to cry, she turned onto her stomach and began to sob heaving cries that shook her entire body. She was simply too young for this; right now, she was supposed to be finishing school, something she didn't know she would ever be able to do, and making summer plans with her friends. She had never imagined herself fighting in a war with a dark lord.
As her sobs slowly died down, she felt large hands caress her back and knew he was beside her. The absence of loud snores should have told her that Ron was still awake, but she still felt guilty about depriving him of much-needed sleep. She rolled back onto her back and opened her mouth to apologize when he softly kissed her and began to speak.
"Don't, I wouldn't have gotten much sleep tonight anyways. If you hadn't started crying, I would have crawled over here; lying down without you next to me seems so wrong. At least now I have a more innocent purpose than to simply enjoy your body next to mine."
Hermione laughed slightly as she moved back in her bag to make room for him. It was a tight fit, but she had begun to prefer this type of closeness. As he wrapped her arms around her and rested his head slightly above hers, he whispered in her ear to cry as much as she needed to. Hermione managed a weak, watery smile as she leaned her head back onto Ron's shoulder.
"I'm done for now. It's impossible for me to think of sad thoughts when you're so close and smelling so wonderful."
"So I'm as distracting to as you are to me. Only fair, I suppose," he laughed.
"Weren't you aware of that? I thought I had made that lovely little fact quite clear the other night," she teased, reaching a hand down to stroke his thigh.
"Let's not tonight, okay? We should probably attempt at sleep so we don't look so pitiful to our parents tomorrow," he said, albeit with some difficulty, and kissing the top of her head.
"I don't think you've ever turned down some 'physical lovin'' before. Are you ill?" Hermione teased, rolling over to face him and looking at his face carefully.
It was Ron's turn to laugh as he squeezed her tightly and kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow, okay? 'Physical lovin'', as you so nicely put it, is on the agenda for tomorrow, I promise."
Hermione didn't answer as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, slowly breathing in his chocolately scent. Feeling much more relaxed, she drifted easily into a miraculously dreamless sleep.
Ron stayed awake slightly longer, observing her as she slept. Hermione's breathing had become more erratic and faster lately, as if she was always running. Her jaw was always tensed and her brow was always furrowed; Ron expected many premature lines were beginning to form. Each night, before he fell asleep, he would try to smooth out her forehead and gently rub her jaw and neck so she could calm down a little bit.
It hurt him to know he couldn't help her much beyond that. He was nowhere near as clever as her, so helping her decode was impossible. Hell, even simply talking to her was difficult for him; Ron tended to bottle his emotions in and talking about them such confused him even more. Therefore, the only way he could really help her was physically. He, as Hermione put it, had become the king of back rubs and he noticed that simply being next to her caused her to loosen up and breathe easier. Ron had taken to sleeping either right by her or (preferably) sleeping with her so prevent the heart attack he was convinced would happen in her sleep. Harry, of course, King Prat, insisted it was more due to hormones, since Ron was unable to keep a tent from forming in his pants whenever she was within a foot of him.
Sleep soon reached Ron, and he happily dozed off with his head buried in her hair.
