It was the second night in the woods. Winter was slowly creeping up on them and the sky was painted white with thick, threatening clouds.
Hermione sat in the tent with only a flickering lantern for company. Despite the pile of blankets she was curled inside and the layers of thick, woolly jumpers (courtesy of several Molly), she was still freezing. The boys sat outside, only feet away but she still felt alone. It had been weeks since they had seen anyone else and in a way, Hermione knew she should be grateful for that. They were safe, no one had found them.
It was all she thought about at night, lying in the dark. Harry and Ron slept on either side, their soft breathing and familiar scents comforted her but she was terrified at every given moment. She saw shadows outside the tent that were no more than a tree branch chilled her to her very core. The wind wailed and owls screeched at her, every noise yelling at her, screaming at her to go home. Pack up their things, grab Harry and Ron and go home to your family.
She knew she couldn't.
Tears burned her eyes and she felt ashamed to think that, she knew what she signed up for. Hermione wanted nothing more than to help Harry in any way that she could. She would stand by his side until the very end.
And then there was Ron.
Ron who watched over her every move, making sure she was safe. Harry did too of course; her two boys threw themselves in front of every danger for her, they had done since first year. But Ron, Ron would give up his sweater, only to make her put in on over her own. He spooned extra rice and mushrooms into her bowl when he thought she wasn't looking, despite his groaning stomach. He would sit with his back to the lake, holding his lantern high so she wouldn't have to bathe in the dark. In the glowing candlelight, Hermione could always see the tips of his ear turning red.
All because of this, she thought that putting as much space between them was the best option. That avoiding his comforting touches, to sit anywhere but at his side around the fire, was best. It only ached even more when she knew that it was all that could happen.
At night, in the tent, she longed for him. Just one touch, innocent or not, that could give her an excuse to retaliate, to just give in and crush herself to him; to give him everything. She was already his, whether he knew it or not.
Lying so close to him was torture, in her sleep; she sought out his warmth and always awoke the next morning coiled around him. That was breaking the rules, but he held her tight nevertheless.
The snow finally began to fall from the sky and soon it was relentless. The howling wind whipped the tent ferociously as Harry and Ron finally gave up watch and entered the tent.
There wasn't much to say to each other as they all settled down to sleep. Harry slipped into the sleeping bag and immediately started snoring softly.
Ron turned on his side to face Hermione.
She smiled, neither happy nor sad. She was just relieved to have him by her side again. This was the only moment they both craved, they both desperately needed; to be near each other and know with their very eyes that the other was still alive.
Yet, it still was not enough. He licked his cold lips feverishly, longing to know what hers felt like against his. They always looked so soft to him, even now tinged with blue from the dropping temperatures. Hermione's eyes dropped to linger on his lips too, and he would give anything in that moment to know what she was thinking. They both sighed.
Extinguishing the last candle, they lay in silence. Ten minutes passed before a small hand came from underneath the blankets to grasp Ron's own.
Hermione held her breath, her heart racing wildly and she almost gasped in relief as he grasped her hand back. She revelled in the rough, calloused and so innocent feel of him and for now, as they fell asleep, that was enough.
