There were footsteps and she was there. She hurried down and stopped when they were face to face. He could see the battle in her face. The dirt covered and singed hair, the cuts and blood from the battle, the limpness of her always bushy hair. However, nothing could be compared to the desolation in her eyes. They did relax the moment they looked at each other. She had wanted him here, and may have checked for him a couple times. In that moment when they looked at each other, he knew they must have had the same expression, because they each reached forward to hug in the same instant. It was the expression of a person who is about to cry. He hugged her tightly and became aware of the weight she had lost these past months. He also became aware of his own. Those grueling nights in the tent were their own battle in another way. The loneliness and stress of trying to make it on your own for the first time in your life.
"Hermione," he managed in a tight voice and she hugged him beyond the normal length of a hug. "Hermione, I'm so sorry," he said. He didn't know exactly what specifically for out of everything, but it also seemed appropriate. He was sorry. For how everyone felt. And because of how he felt responsible in so many ways.
"Me, too, oh Harry..I just.." she said and he could feel her crying. He hugged her tighter then let her go. He had managed not to himself this time, but he was sure he couldn't last long. Once was exhausting but more was imminent. He looked at her again and he knew she knew him almost as well as herself. She knew his look was inquiring about Ron, asking in an unspoken question how he was. She shook her head slightly, and looked anguished in the way a person does when someone they love is hurting. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. It looked painful.
"How bad?" He finally asked. She grimaced. He wondered what this form of pain would take. Over the many years of knowing Ron, he knew he reacted to grief in different ways. Sometimes with a thick depression, other times with anger, or denial, or even a dip in confidence. Which grief was it tonight?
"He...he can't talk to me. He can't do anything. He's just sitting and staring," she said in a shaky voice.
So this was the catatonic numbness. He remembered something he didn't like to remember. The night Hermione was taken at the Malfoy's, Ron had had a moment of blank emotion. He was too overwhelmed by the agony of having her taken away from them. It was only for a moment, because her first scream had made both of them jump, and snap out of all other thoughts. Then he was mostly hysterical; screaming and beating the walls. Harry had been the one who couldn't talk at that point. He combed through his bag in a panic while Ron lost it. But now that it was over, he realized that what Ron had done was to continue to communicate to Hermione that he was there and coming for her. The way a partner always tries to be there for the one he loves. And what now? How could Hermione or anyone comfort him from being captive in his own head? If he was catatonic, it meant he was trapped by his own waking nightmare. Who knew if he could even focus on him or Hermione at all? They would try. They were a team always.
"How long has he.." Harry started.
"As soon as we got here, he just couldn't speak. It was like the fight went out of him," she said. She turned, and he knew she was desperate to get Harry upstairs. Hermione and Ron were in love and together, but he, Harry, had been his best friend from go. Maybe he could get through to him. The time Ron had also been catatonic for about ten minutes was after they had destroyed the locket. He was recovering from seeing Harry and Hermione as avatars coming out of the Horcrux and kissing. Harry had reached him then after those minutes of silence. They got to the door in moments. Harry's stomach contracted at the idea of doing this; of being with Ron in the lowest moment of his life. But he had to be there. They had been there for him during most of his lowest moments in life...Harry owed them.
Hermione cracked the door and held a hand up. "Give me a moment," she said, and disappeared into the dark room. He waited and held his breath without realizing it. He heard her murmur something to him, but not the words. Then, "He's right here Ron. Harry's here," she said. He pulled open the door, and went into the room. It was very dark inside, with a few little lights making it possible to see. Hermione was kneeling next to Ron by his bed of six years, and he was looking down at the floor. Harry moved as quietly as he could and then, stole himself and sat down next to him.
Ron wasn't doing anything; nothing at all. He wasn't saying anything, not even breathing hard in panic or grief. He didn't react to Harry.
"Ron.. Ron mate, I'm…" he tried. Ron did not look at him. It was chilling. "I'm so..beyond sorry. I'm at a loss. I can't…" he stopped. He wanted to say he couldn't believe it was real. But it was. And it was possible that he Harry had accepted it was real more than Ron. Or was this the biggest kind of acceptance there was? He hesitated then reached up to hold his shoulder in comfort. Ron just sat. He didn't say anything. He stared, and with a pang, Harry was reminded how the inferi looked, with terrifying lifeless expressions. He pushed that thought away.
Hermione looked at him then Ron and looked so sad for him. She touched his arm, and it looked like she was treating him as something fragile that could break. In the same moment, as if rehearsed, they both reached up to put an arm around him. She pulled back though, and let him be hugged more by Harry. He squeezed him lightly.
"Ron, can you… can you say something?" He tried. He didn't respond. Harry worried that he shouldn't be trying to make him, but he wasn't sure what to do. "God Ron, I'm so sorry. We're here," he managed, not knowing where he had gotten that line. It popped into his head from nothing. Hermione reached up and stroked his hair back in a comforting way. Ron didn't lean into her hand, or away either. Harry wanted to shake his hand in front of his eyes, but didn't. He suddenly wanted to perform the ennervate spell, but he didn't do that either. He just tightened his grip on him. Harry realized he hadn't said the right thing yet. The thing that he needed to hear to get out of the nightmare he was stuck in. He tried to imagine what he would want to hear. He felt like he was trying out a spell that mostly wouldn't work at first, but you had to keep trying.
"It's okay, to have a breakdown here with us. That's what we're for. We want to be here for you. Really, you don't need to…you don't need to be.." and then, to his own surprise, his own eyes filled with tears again. His breath caught and he couldn't finish the words. This was wrong, he felt. It was wrong to be the one to break down when you were trying to be a rock for someone else. He held his face with his free hand, and started gasping quietly; at least trying to manage it quietly. He didn't think it was fair. But he could not speak at all anymore. He felt so crushed that Fred was dead. It hit him like all the bricks of Hogwarts tumbling down. He felt such shame at his weakness when he wanted so much to be the support for him instead. Hermione looked up and moved to him quickly.
"Oh Harry," she said quietly, sounding stricken. She didn't expect this either. But she didn't sound angry with him for being weak instead of strong. Hermione hugged him and he leaned against her, feeling like it was his only anchor right now. But they were his anchor. Once it began it was hard to lock it down; impossible. Fred and George had always been there, at the burrow, at school, and available for a good laugh. They came as a package deal, that never should have been severed. The Weasleys were family, and he had already lost far too many family members in his life.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Ron," he managed, hating that he couldn't just be there for him. The crying tore at his chest.
"Shhh, it's okay honey," Hermione said sympathetically. "Don't be sorry, you're right, we're here together," she said comfortingly. And then, Ron looked over at them. Harry felt the movement next to him. This unexpected meltdown had broken the spell. The last time Harry had ever done this in Ron's presence was the night he saw Voldemort kill Cedric. Really it was Molly to comfort him that time, but Ron had stood right there, and it bothered him a lot that time. He remembered his expression before hiding his face. As a general rule, they didn't cry in front of each other. Hermione's emotions were stronger, and she had shed a lot of tears in their time. She was now too. Ron put his arm around Harry and squeezed him on his other side. They both looked at Ron, and their tears had triggered him too in his tortured expression. He made eye contact, and then he looked down and burst into tears himself. He sounded like a wounded animal; but they all were. Hermione let go of Harry and crawled back to Ron. This was it, he finally was having his own catharsis. "Ron, sweetheart," she whispered. "Ron, I'm so sorry," she said and dragged herself up next to him again. This time when she hugged him, he hugged her back, burying his face into her shoulder. Her hair was like a mini canopy, concealing him. Harry looked at them, and the suddenness of what happened had halted his breakdown. He was focused on Ron now, but his eyes still pricked, and the salt burned. He held his shoulder again. Ron's breathing was burdened now. "I know, I know, I'm so sorry," she said in a low voice he could barely hear. He noticed that she wasn't trying to tell him it would be okay. It's because it wasn't; it was far from it. "I'm here, I've got you. We both do," she said.
"He.. can't be gone," he said for the first time. "He can't.." he sobbed.
"I love you, I'm so sorry," she said. And Harry had never heard her voice that to him before now.
"Me too," Harry said, speaking without thinking.
They held onto him in a triangle until he couldn't breathe through his nose. Hermione got him some tissues and he blew his nose and looked miserable. Harry stood up and got him some water. He touched his shoulder and Ron looked at him. He held it out and he took it. In his expression he could see he looked grateful. Then Harry got himself and Hermione some also, realizing he was completely parched. When had they last had food or water? Harry stepped out and went down to the common room, pushing his glasses up and wiping his eyes again. He wanted to give them a moment alone, but also wanted to make use of himself. He didn't know how to ask for food, but knew they needed it. Then after a hesitant moment, he asked for Kreacher. Without fail, there was a bang and a sudden appearance from Kreacher apparating. Harry jumped, a bit surprised. Then Kreacher looked up at him, and appeared a little worse for wear from the battle.
"Master called?" He asked, and he did not look annoyed. Harry was worried he would be put out. He was wearing the fake locket still. Harry cleared his throat.
"Hi Kreacher thanks so much for coming. I wanted to ask you, do you think we could get some food somehow? I don't think we can go to the kitchens," he said. He asked it like they would find it together. Kreacher blinked.
"Kreacher will bring food for master," he said simply.
"Oh, Ron and Hermione are here too, is it okay if you bring some for three?" He asked. Again, he tried to make it sound like a request not an order. Kreacher nodded, not one to waste words, then disapparated with another bang. Harry then heard Hermione on the stairs, and she appeared with a wand raised.
"Sorry, I asked Kreacher if he could find food. I promise I didn't order him to, I asked," he added, not keen to annoy her on top of everything.
"Oh, that's all, I just panicked. I can't take any more scares tonight. And poor Ron. He jumped, terrified." Harry felt guilty.
"I'm sorry I forgot how loud it was," he said as there was another crack. Hermione jumped and almost dropped her wand. Kreacher had returned quicker than he anticipated, and he had a plate of sandwiches and apples. Harry felt instantly hungrier at the sight of this.
"It's this good for master?" He asked. Harry smiled and it felt weird to do, after so much collective suffering tonight.
"Yes thank you," he said and took it. Hermione greeted him kindly, as she always did with house elves. He nodded, but never smiled or exchanged greetings. It wasn't his way.
"In the morning Kreacher will bring more food," he said simply.
"Thanks so much again," they said and he was gone. Was it his imagination or was the sound quieter? Was it possible he noticed their alarm? He shrugged and turned to go back upstairs. He was eager to feed Ron first. When they got there, Ron looked haggard and nervous.
"It was just Kreacher," Hermione said. "Do you think you could eat?" She asked carefully. His eyes were red and Harry could tell he was still working hard for composure.
"Sure," he said, not refusing. They ate in silence. Harry could barely tell what kind of sandwich it was, not that it mattered. When they ate their full, only Ron hadn't been able to eat that much, they put the plate aside.
"Bless him," Harry said after. "I'm glad he's still.." and he choked, stopping himself from saying he's still alive. He just couldn't say that in front of Ron. They looked at him and he fake coughed, ".. doesn't mind helping us," he said, saving himself. They didn't look suspicious.
"Ron, do you think, I mean, do you want to try sleeping for a while?" Hermione asked. He looked upset again.
"You don't need to though," she said quickly in a strained voice.
"No, I'll try," he told her in a cracking voice. "I just don't want you go," he said so quietly Harry could barely hear.
She hugged him and whispered to him. He nodded, and Harry was sure she agreed to stay with him all night.
Harry couldn't have minded less. He stood and moved to his own bed. His clothes were filthy but he didn't want to struggle to find clothes. Tomorrow. All he managed was taking off his glasses and shoes. He heard Ron climb into his bed then move aside. He didn't see them though because Harry had shut his hangings. He had missed this bed.
Hermione swung into the bed with him. They were dating. It made sense. He lied down also, more tired than he thought possible, and finally acknowledging it. His eyes burned even after closing them. The lights dimmed but didn't go out. He was grateful, he didn't want to be in the dark, just like how he didn't want to be alone tonight. They had been through so much and slept in the tent so many nights. It felt right to be together at the end. The feelings of fear and disquiet lingered even though Voldemort was gone. He didn't think it would fade quickly either. He wished there could be a low white noise. The quiet made it so it was impossible to avoid hearing Ron's pained misery resume. It was muffled though, so he knew Hermione was comforting him. His eyes pricked as he realized he wanted to be hugged too. His eyes leaked as he tried not to hear the quiet anguish. He pulled one pillow over his head and wrapped the blanket so it was a cocoon. It almost felt like he was being hugged. He wished Ginny was there. But he knew that wouldn't be fair. He couldn't face her this way. He needed to be the one ready to comfort her. It was her brother she lost. He pictured Fred's laughing face and felt his throat get tight. He bit the pillow to muffle the quiet cry he couldn't stop. He was dead. Gone forever. They would never talk again. And they would have to face George, and look into his eyes; essentially Fred's eyes as they were identical. And he knew it was going to feel worse than how he felt now, lying here and hearing Ron's hitched breathing. Eventually his eyes felt heavy and stopped tearing. His own breathing relaxed. He was relieved that he managed this moment in silence. He didn't want Ron to have to bear any suffering beyond his own. In a few minutes all sounds dulled. Rob must have cried himself out. Harry was grateful he could get a break. He felt himself starting to drift. He turned over and felt comforted by the cocoon, like it was a protego spell protecting him, or maybe even a patronus. Who knew? Perhaps Hermione had cast a protection spell over them, just as she had done for months. Protection was welcome. He felt calm…then his thoughts dropped off.
...
In the morning Harry woke up slowly and didn't move, still very comfortable. Eventually he turned over and peaked through his hangings, after he had found his glasses, to find Hermione sitting up in their bed, and looking over at Ron in an exhausted and concerned way. Perhaps dreading the moment he would wake up and be upset again. Right now, Ron looked at peace. It wouldn't last. Seeing her this way made him feel tired again, and he wanted to go back to bed to resume his peace too. Waking up, getting up, seeing the others were all things he wanted to avoid. Like when one wants to stay in bed all day recovering from an illness. Maybe he did need recovery. He rested his head back, glad Hermione hadn't noticed he woke up, to his knowledge and trained his eyes on them. Suddenly she raised her wand and pointed it vaguely at herself. Moments later he noticed the dirt and grime had disappeared. Then he could tell she had maybe used the spell scourgify on herself, because she looked cleaner than he had seen for a while. Maybe this was a quick way of cleaning up before one could take a shower. Then the collar of her ripped shirt repaired itself, and the only damage she had left was her pained face and creased clothes from sleeping in them. She didn't cast the spells on either of them, most likely wanting to offer it when they woke up. She was brilliant, perhaps having used this loads of times, without their notice. Harry felt more awake. He ran his hand under his pillow and felt his wand there. Old habits had stuck with him. He was able to use nonverbal spells now, even though he still spoke some aloud. He levitated a cup of water from the nearby table and slowly moved it toward Hermione. She looked a bit startled, then turned to see his wand extended. She reached up and took it, looking thirsty. She mouthed thanks as Harry summoned another to himself. What a relief it would be to stay up here, magicking objects to themselves and sleeping as much as possible. Hopefully Ron would sleep peacefully all day. But soon they would be hungry for food beyond the sandwiches from last night. However, as if reading his thoughts, there was a knock on the door. He sat up and Hermione tensed.
"It is Kreacher with food," a bullfrog voice announced. It didn't wake Ron. Kreacher entered without waiting, which was fine because Harry's voice would have been scratchy and dry after the events of last night. Kreacher seemed to have eggs and oatmeal. It was mild, which actually sounded perfect, he felt pretty weak, even though he slept deeply. They might have also shrunken their stomachs after months with minimal food. It would take time before he could eat a feast again. He accepted the tray of food and nodded his thanks to Kreacher. He saw that Hermione was presented with food as well as he ate. His stomach did not reject it. Kreacher noticed that Ron was still asleep.
"Kreacher will return," he said and walked out of the room, not dissaparating loudly.
Harry finished his food and set the tray aside on his bedside table. Then he sighed and gazed at the ceiling of his four poster bed. Was more sleep possible?
"Last night I offered Ron the potion for dreamless sleep, that's why he can sleep this long," Hermione said quietly.
"Good idea," he whispered back in a rough voice. He cleared it. He hadn't had a dream; quite a gift considering everything he had been through since they departed for Gringotts.
"I think it's perfectly fine if you want to sleep more," she added. Did she really know him that well? He frowned slightly, feeling guilty for wanting to. "No one is going to come up here, they know where we are. They know we need to recover," she continued. Yes, the next few days would be exhausting emotionally. Harry felt a stab of pain when he thought about a funeral, then pushed the thought away. "I'll wake you up if anything happens," she said. He believed her. His bed was quite warm still, the blanket cocoon still around him slightly. He turned over after a moment, feeling a headache starting and knowing this was the best way to get rid of it.
"Thanks," he said, feeling gratitude for Hermione. She didn't reply and Harry slipped his wand back under his pillow and removed his glasses. He greeted the oblivion of more sleep. Not hungry, it was easy to fall back under. It was still pretty dim outside. Had they already reached the next day? Then he drifted off again.