CW-PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, flashbacks but no direct mention of assault

She was trapped. She needed to get out. She needed to get to Ron. Ron. He was screaming her name as crucio was cast over and over again. Was it hitting her or him? Both of them? She was in such a state of panic that she couldn't tell. Stale breath wafted over her. She shut her eyes, but still, she could see. Those beady eyes looking over her. Taunting her.

"Hermione"

She could barely hear him over her own screams now reverberating out of her.

"Hermione, wake up."

Suddenly she was thrust into brightness. The light in her room blinded her. She pushed and screamed, begging for escape. It took her a moment to realise where she was. That the man on top of her was Ron, trying to soothe her, trying to placate her. He was rubbing her arm and caressing her hair. Whispering how everything was okay, it was just a nightmare.

She felt sick.

Hermione sat up urgently, unintentionally pushing Ron off of her. She was covered in sweat, her breath still laboured, apparently not having caught up to her brain. She was going to be sick. She leaned over her bed, where, just in time, Ron had magicked a basin. He held her hair back, continuing to whisper calming phrases.

She magicked the basin away and cleaned her mouth, as Ron made his way to her side, standing above her sitting form.

"Shhh," he said gently, bringing her head to his stomach.

At first, she didn't know why he was quieting her. But then she realised. She was crying. Sobbing really. Sobs racked her body like they hadn't in years. She hadn't had a good cry for a while, and it was like all of her tears had been saving themselves for this moment, overflowing endlessly.

The previous evening had been so magical. Ron and Hermione spent their time like the rebellious 18-year-olds they once were; spending the whole evening in bed, flirting, eating, and not-talking. But they weren't 18 years old anymore. No, this was their reality. Trauma and night terrors and the overwhelmingness of it all.

Ron kneeled down so that her head now rested comfortably in the nape of his neck. Her sobs not seeming to stop anytime soon.

She looked at him, his shoulder as her pillow and his strong arms around her. How did he get through it all? How had he survived the terror? She had him, after all, but he hadn't had her. From what she could gather, he hadn't coped well. The mini tour of his flat only solidified that; all of the alcohol bottles and the emptiness of it. He hadn't coped.

All of this was far too familiar to Hermione. Waking up from nightmares terrified, the flashbacks, jumping when someone sneaked up on her. All of these began to happen after the war. The fear centered around her time at Malfoy Manor. Even as Jane, she had nightmares, but they never made any sense, just leaving her confused and scared. But her time as Jane had given her some insight into her predicament.

She had spent so much time being analysed by psychiatrists. They had asked her the same questions about her symptoms, over and over, trying to put a name to what she was going through. And she knew what the nightmares, flashbacks, and jumpy-ness meant; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. She hadn't been diagnosed as Jane because she didn't quite meet the requirements; her symptoms were too vague, and her psychiatrists were too focused on her memory loss. But she was clear now. She had PTSD. And anxiety. And panic attacks.

How was she going to get through all of this?

Eventually, she ran out of tears, and after being held by Ron for a bit of time after, it was time to try to go back to sleep. Ron took his place next to her and she turned to hold his hand.

She wanted to ask him about all of this. About how he dealt with everything. Was he okay, even now? But no words came out. Instead, she cuddled closer to him, trying to use the sound of his steady heartbeat to calm her. It was too late in the night to take a potion; she had to be up in a couple of hours. So she was going to have to try the old-fashioned way.

Her alarm rang out what seemed to be seconds later. She had a fitful sleep, exhausted by her sadness, but not enough to sleep well. She quickly reached over to turn off her alarm, Ron was still asleep, and she didn't want to wake him.

She tip-toed to the loo, bringing her work clothes with her, so she wouldn't have to bother Ron by going back to her room. She analysed her appearance in the mirror. The first thing she noticed was her wild hair, sticking up in all different directions from a poor night's sleep. But, she was used to that, and could easily fix it with some water and product. Next, she leaned towards the mirror, focusing on her face. There were deep, dark purple circles under her eyes, which were barely visible under the puffiness of her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and looked like they hadn't slept in years. At least she could magically fix her appearance. She wasn't much good at cosmetic spells, but she had gotten quite good at covering up signs of crying over the years.

Hermione finished getting ready and peeked her head in her room to check on Ron before she left. He was still fast asleep, having stretched out onto the full size of the bed in Hermione's absence.

She thought she should at least leave a note, so as not to worry him when he woke up alone. She could only imagine his panic if he woke up with her missing, especially after the night before. So, she grabbed some stationary (blue, of course) and began to write.

Dear Ron,

She was at a loss for words. In her head, she could hear his voice "Hermione, lost for words? Impossible," and chuckled. Even without him here, he could make her feel better.

Thank you for staying last night.

That was so simple. There was so much more that she wanted to say. But, she just couldn't figure out how to say it.

I figured you could use a lie-in, and I've headed off to work.

She debated telling him that she got off of work at the same time as the day before. She didn't want to make him feel like he had to stay or he had to take care of her. Though, she knew that he would do it in a second. It was one of the hard parts of transitioning back to Hermione. When she was Jane, she just had herself. And she got used to that. It became comfortable. But now she had Ron. Not just Ron, an entire family, that would do anything for her. It would take her some time, she thought, before this became comfortable.

Love,

Hermione

It was short and sweet and didn't say nearly any of what she wanted to. But, it would have to do, she would miss her bus if she didn't leave soon. She placed the note next to him, debating giving him a kiss, but thought against it. She had been so good at not waking him so far, why mess that up?

She went to leave, turning back to look at him. She had so much to be thankful for. And he was at the centre of it all.