A/N: A huge thanks to jenn582 for her encouragement when I was about to give up on this fic, AND also for being and absolute darling and checking this out for me.

Ron was sure his head would split apart in two the way his veins were throbbing. He stomped his way up to Percy's old bedroom which she occupied now and opened the door with a mighty push. The wood banged against the wall with a loud crunching noise but the only reaction from the girl standing at the wardrobe was a momentary pause. She soon resumed her work of pulling out neat stacks of clothes and placing them carefully into an open bag sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Do you need anything?" she asked in a tone almost bordering on indifference before she went back to the work at hand.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Despite his best to sound normal, he could feel his fury leaching into his words. But if Ron expected that to make Hermione pay him more attention, he was sorely mistaken. She continued stuffing the bag that, quite unsurprisingly actually, seemed to have a cavity much larger than its modest size indicated.

"Australia," she replied composed, turning around a fraction to meet his eyes before going back to her packing.

The fear and fury made him pause for a moment before he found his words- and his temper that he had been struggling to leash found him too.

"Australia?" he barked incredulously.

"Of course, I need to bring back my family, don't I?"

Ron wasn't exactly sure when he had moved closer to her. Nor did he realise that he had turned her by the elbow, still holding her tightly in fact. That was until those brown eyes met his. He felt his anger dissipate a little but only to have panic replace it.

"I'll come with you."

"No, you won't. I can take care of myself."

"No," he declared promptly as he let go of her hand, "You are not going alone."

He grabbed the small pile from her hand and threw them back inside the wardrobe without a second glance before turning around to grab her shoulders. Hermione, however, pulled herself free just in time and glared hard at him before turning around and stacking the clothes neatly into a pile again.

Ron struggled to keep his breathing steady. He needed to run away and sit alone by the pool till he managed a grip on himself. Every single time in the past weeks, when life became unbearable, he followed the same routine. It was sheer agony to absorb all that pain and accept the reality, so he took the easy route and escaped. Sitting alone by the pool, soaking in the silence helped only marginally because the memories were still so raw and fresh. But that way, at least he was not causing any trouble to the others- his family, Harry and Hermione. It was an exhausting task but all for the best, he knew. They needed him now he reminded himself over and over. He could always see to his wounds later.

Of late, Ron had begun to realise that holding it all in wasn't possibly the best of ideas. The pain inside had only grown stronger over the weeks, raging and craving to be released and making it steadily harder for him to go on with his routine life. At times he felt like his actions and reactions had all become mechanical. But the worst part was that he didn't know how to let out the pain anymore. Also, it was incredibly hard to find words that explained how he felt about the whole situation. Not to forget, it would be absolutely wrong to trouble the others with his grief now that they were at least trying to build back the pieces. He couldn't do that to them.

"If you are done interrupting me, Ron, I'd suggest you leave. I have a lot to-"

This time, his grip was stronger. He faintly wondered if he was hurting her with the way his fingers pressed into her upper arms as he pulled her away from the wardrobe. But he let the thought slide because, for once he knew, Hermione was hurting him way more.

"YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" he barked, shaking her slightly, not exactly sure if it was intentional or was it his uncontrollable rage and pain pouring out.

He wanted to confess to her that she was the only one making him hold on to sanity. He wanted to apologise for not being the perfect boyfriend. He wanted to tell her that he was trying. However, just like always, the half-formed words died after a brief struggle to leave his lips. Why was it so hard to speak up nowadays?

Hermione was fighting his hold and looking at him defiantly; he realised he needed some sort of explanation. Since his lips were doing a bad job with words, he decided to use them in the other way he knew of.

"Let go-"

Ron pulled her to his chest, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist as his lips crashed on hers cutting off her protest. He couldn't go slowly like he had been doing all these weeks- especially during the nights which he spent next to her, holding her in his arms as she struggled with her nightmares. For once, he couldn't be the caring, understanding boyfriend he was trying his best to be. The kiss was nothing but demanding.

Ron forced himself to cut out all the pain and fear and just concentrate on the softness of her lips as he pulled them between his slightly chapped ones. He ran his tongue over her lower lip, tasting her and wondering once more, how Hermione managed to taste sweeter that chocolate. As his fingers moved into her curls to hold her in her place, his tongue delved into the warmth of her mouth, a small moan escaping him at the feeling of peace he found in being entwined with her like this. For the first time since their kiss during the battle, he allowed himself to feel rather than concentrate on being supportive. Most of their moments were shared during the nights when she struggled with the lingering effects of her nightmares, and it could be one of the reasons why it seemed like he was perpetually on his guard- even during their most intimate moments. He always had to ensure that she found the anchoring she needed from him, never allowing himself to fully lose control- except for those brief seconds during and after his body gave in and erupted inside her. It was only those moments when everything that was real and unpleasant in his life ceased to exist. Those brief minutes were his breathers, his lifelines.

For once, Ron figured, he was taking something from her for himself- and it was hands moved into his hair, pulling at his strands and as her tongue grazed his, and a sensation stronger than his fears ran down his spine, causing him to suck her hard in return. Hermione gasped slightly into his mouth as his fingers pressed hard into the supple flesh of her bum, her breasts pressing delightfully onto his chest.

He broke apart for a second to fill his lungs with some much-needed air before claiming her lips once again. His head felt lighter than it had in days, and he clung on to her like a dying man taking in the last gulps of air. He needed her; only Hermione could pull him out of the quicksand that was pulling him into his moment was short-lived though, as she not only broke the kiss but pressed her hand to his chest to push him away. The moment her body disengaged from his, it felt like all the pain and grief he had managed to push away rushed ahead to crash back onto him. So hard was the effect that it left him slightly disoriented.

Hermione knew she was killing herself with what she was doing to him.

But what choice did she have?

She had been watching Ron disintegrate in front of her eyes for days now. But all her efforts to make him open up had failed. He was hurting but not letting anyone breach his walls. She could sense his reservations as he kissed her during those dark nights. He was way too understanding, and not just with her but all of them- his parents, Harry, Ginny, and most of all, George. It felt as if he was trying to be there for everyone and doing it with patience no one ever thought he had. But he never spoke of his pain- it was only visible in those eyes during a few rare moments when his guard fell, just moments before he walked away alone to the orchard. She had followed him a couple of times to the pool, and on those occasions, he was quick to suggest they get back to the house. It was as if he was craving to be alone. It hurt but she put up with it in the hope that he would begin healing. It was evident it wasn't working that way.

She could see, as could everyone else, how his jokes were forced, how he was always around when someone needed him, how he was the first to run down the steps at every little noise- wand at the ready, flames in his eyes. Hermione could see what he was doing, but all their efforts to get him to talk resulted in him forcefully changing the topic, or walking away if she became too persistent.

As advanced as magical healing was, she was forced to admit that it woefully lagged behind its Muggle counterpart as far as dealing with mental issues was concerned. There was only so much a Calming Drought could do, and the effects were just a stop-gap solutions. For someone as headstrong as Ron- who wasn't even ready to admit he was hurting, the normal remedies didn't work at all.

As the sound of a fist hitting the old desk broke the uncomfortable silence of the room, she realised that his shell was finally breaking, and she knew she had to continue till she found the opening to pull him out of this despair.

"Go away, Ron," she declared but only after she had turned away from him. Just a little more, love. Let it out- she added silently.

There was a thud and she turned in time to see him collapsing down on his knees, large palms pressed over his face as his shoulders shook with his silent sobs. Hermione realised that, at that moment, she hated herself more than she hated Bellatrix Lestrange.

Ron couldn't take it anymore.

It was the War all over again. The helplessness reminded him of the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor, and the unimaginable fear in his heart as he pulled out her limp body from under the shattered chandelier. Slowly each of his nightmares came to life- the dead eyes of his brother staring unseeing at the ceiling of the Great Hall, the memory of each and every funeral they had attended in the past weeks, the blank eyes of children who had lost their parents, mothers who had lost their children, families that had been torn apart never to be complete again. Once again he felt their eyes boring into his soul through his battered skin, silently questioning why they had taken so long to finish Voldemort, why he had abandoned his friends.

The sobs came hard but silent as he hunched onto the floor, shaking uncontrollably with all that he had been holding on for so long. He cried for his dead brother, guilt eating him for all the times his much younger self had silently wished for the twins to disappear. He cried for George and the forbidden fear that made him wonder how long he would last without Fred. He cried for the broken shell his family was now, for his Mum who walked about dazed and still kept a place at the table for her lost son. He cried for his father who pretended to work on his Muggle collections but instead sobbed quietly to himself hidden away in the tool-shed till Ron found him. He cried for Teddy who was still too young to fathom what he had lost, and for Harry who spent the nights in Ginny's room fighting his own demons. He sobbed for Ginny who had frequent spells when she would shake uncontrollably and yet tried her best to hide it from everyone. He cried at the memory of almost having lost Hermione, for her screams that still reverberated in his ears, for the way a strong witch like her shivered and thrashed around in pain at nights. And he cried for all the people who were buried in the war memorial, some just a name on a tombstone for the bodies had been lost forever.

But most of all he cried because the one person who was keeping him alive was going away, not even realising how terrified he was about getting her out of his sight. He cried for she didn't know how he was holding on to her to keep him breathing when the pain almost choked him from within.

When his sobs finally settled, perhaps hours later, he figured that he was curled up on the floor: his head resting on her lap and a soft, familiar hand running through his hair and rubbing him on the back. He opened his eyes a smidge and was met with brown orbs that were brimming with tears. Even as he looked, the moisture spilled out and trickled down the worn path etched out on her cheeks.

Ron looked on as fresh tears pooled again. Hermione sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve before turning to face him, a small moan escaping her quivering lips.

Hermione struggled with words for quite a while before giving up altogether. Carefully, she adjusted his fringe out of his eyes and tenderly wiped off his tears even as her own escaped again. As bad it was to deal with one's own grief, she decided, watching a loved one hurting like this was a thousand times worse.

She allowed Ron to pull her hand in his, while her other remained stroking his hair.

"Tell me you are not leaving me," he pleaded.

His voice was coarse and he hitched a few times, but it was the pain in his eyes that hurt her the most. For days now, Hermione had been fighting for Ron to drop the walls, but watching him so broken made her wonder if she was prepared for this at all.

Ron didn't take his eyes off her face. Lying on the threadbare carpet with rickety floorboards pressing into his back would have been uncomfortable. But now, with his head resting on her lap and watching those brown eyes look at him with all the love in the world, Ron decided he could spend an eternity this way- if only she promised never to leave.

Hermione shook her head slightly in response, not trusting her voice, and bit her lip before closing her eyes and letting out a tired felt like he had been gasping for air all this while, and suddenly, with that small gesture, she poured his life back into him. Lifting himself up, he turned around in a flash before pulling her onto his lap and pressing her tightly to his chest. The tears came again, but this time, out of hold on him was equally strong.

Hermione wrapped him in her arms wishing she could pull him into herself and keep him that way. She didn't know what more she could do to rid him of the pain; it had been left to fester for too long. However, as the silent rocking of his body eased, she decided that she would do anything and everything that was necessary to get him out of this mess.

When she placed a hand on his chest and pushed this time, it was a tender action, just an attempt perhaps to get him to face her. Ron pulled away from her nape where his face had been pressed onto for a while, and she placed her much smaller hand on his cheek while the other remained clutching his shirt.

He could see a fair amount hurt floating in her eyes and braced for the questions. But surprising him as only Hermione could, she placed her lips gently over his instead. It was nothing more than a touch; her lips merely took his lower one between hers before releasing them before she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. He wasted not even a heartbeat to capture her lips in his, craving to feel her presence. He was feeling lighter than he had in days, the pain was still there throbbing like an old wound, but one that had been finally cleaned off and could now begin its healing process.

"Why couldn't you trust me with this, Ron?"

He could sense the hurt and took her hand in his before responding.

"You were hurting too," he breathed watching their hands as he traced patterns on her palm with his thumb."Why were you leaving?" he asked quietly.

"I wasn't leaving," she murmured and he snapped his head up to meet her eyes but Hermione looked away. "Not that I was needed here, though," she added sadly.

"Are you fucking insane?" he gasped. "What gave you that ridiculous idea?"

"You did!" she spat meeting his gaze and huffing slightly. "Do you even know how much it was hurting me to see you that way?" she asked slowly and continued despite tears threatening to choke her up. "Do you have any clue, Ron, how horrible it feels to know that while you stay with me to drive my nightmares away, I can do nothing of the sort for you? All I did was sat and watched while you kept struggling with your pain because you didn't let me help you?"

It was Ron's turn to cup her face in his hands as his thumbs wiped her tears away. He felt more in control now and could actually concentrate on caring for her better than the past weeks.

"I wanted to. Believe me, Hermione, I did. Just didn't quite know how..."

She let out a soft muffled sob before crashing her lips on his and Ron closed his eyes in bliss as she took the lead and sought entrance. Wrapping his arms around her waist he held her in place even as Hermione gently pushed him, causing him to lie on the floor again. It was a beautiful feeling, letting go of all the control and just giving in to the magic of the moment. He kissed her back relishing the sweetness of her lips on his.

Ron kept his eyes closed even after she pulled away, but caught her eyes at the sound of the door clicking magically shut. He watched as Hermione waved her wand and a cushion appeared under his head.

"Herm-"

Rest of the words died on his lips as she flicked her wand again leaving them in their skin. He gasped softly at the sight of her nipples, noticing with regret how her usual petite but healthy form still looked undernourished and the faint scars that were still healing. Hermione, sitting on his abdomen, bend herself to catch his lips between hers, the touch of her skin on his sending pleasant jolts to run up his body.

"You are an idiot," she murmured biting his earlobe and he chuckled as their eyes met, his mirth causing her to smile too. However, it was with slight melancholy that she placed her palms on his cheeks again.

"Just let go, Ron. We did everything we possibly could. Your hurt or guilt won't bring them back. It will only make your family more miserable than it already is."

"I am trying," he responded softly and placed his hand over hers, "but I can't do it without you."

"You don't have to."

She kissed him then, just as fiercely as she had in the Room of Requirements and Ron felt the pleasant stirring in his loins as she peppered kisses along his unshaved jaw line before pressing her lips delicately at the hollow of his neck."

'Mione..." he moaned in pleasure as she moved lower running her lips in a straight line down his chest. When she lowered her weight on his thighs, his erect manhood pressing tantalisingly against her delicate parts, he growled, hips jerking and arms reaching out to touch eyes met, and the precision of her understanding his silent desire surprised him.

She lifted herself, kneeling on either side of him before guiding his hand to her folds, moaning and throwing her head back at his touch. Almost immediately, her fingers wrapped around his length and Ron's grunt was louder. He closed his eyes, allowing the pleasurable sensations to flood his senses overruling everything took the lead once more as she lowered herself on him, both gasping simultaneously at the coupling. Knowing that her still weak body wouldn't be able to continue for long, he grabbed her at the waist, guiding her movements.

Ron's eyes never left her. Her curls had come free of the confining bun to fall on her shoulders and her flush skin glistened with light traces of sweat. Her cheeks flooded with colour while her palms that were on his chest scraped his skin and Ron thrust his hips in harmony with her motions to help her reach her high. She came with a soft sob and eventually crashed on his chest. Tenderly tucking a handful of unruly curls behind her ear, Ron pressed his lips on top of her head as she pressed her lips to his chest.

"Your turn to lie down," he whispered, feeling more light-hearted than he had in days.

Turning them around, he held her close to his chest till he conjured a soft blanket for her.

"I love you, Ron," muttered Hermione, placing a palm against his cheek as he positioned himself between her thighs.

He captured her palm in his and pressed a kiss on her knuckles.
"Thank you for that," he replied with his first genuine smile in weeks.

He captured her lips in his while their fingers interlaced as he entered her, thrusting carefully like it had become a habit for him. Don't ever hurt her, he repeated to himself. However, Hermione broke the kiss to mutter a small sentence...

"Do it the way you need it," she said with a strength that was the true mark of the girl he had fallen in love with. "Do it, Ron. Do it for yourself. Do it for us."

He did what she asked for Ron knew if there was ever a person he trusted more than himself- it had to be Hermione Granger. Slow and careful soon turned to powerful, urgent thrusts. He could feel her move with the force of his lovemaking, but she kept her arms and legs wrapped around him and kissed him forcefully, urging him to go on. Holding onto her Ron poured everything he had into their lovemaking till the pain was pushed off to some far away corner of his mind, till all he could feel was her skin and warmth, all he could breathe was her fragrance. When he came with a force that shook her much smaller frame, she pressed her lips into his nape and moaned his name aloud.

...

Hours later, walking in the brisk sunshine, fingers entwined with hers, Ron guided her to the pool again. As Hermione prepared to sit down on the grass, he turned her around. Getting to his knees in front of her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her bossom.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and touched her chin to his head, laughing softly to herself at their ridiculous height difference. But, she decided, it was perfect.

"I really mean it, Hermione. Thank you for loving me," he muttered. "Please don't leave me..."

"I'll always be with you, Ron. Always and forever," she responded into his hair.

A/n Thank you for reading. A review will be highly appreciated.