Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: Surprise! A relatively quick update. I appreciate all of the lovely comments so far. My intention is to always update as soon as the chapter is ready to post, but I make no promises as to when that will be as the holidays approach and life is getting busier :)

Fair warning, this chapter is heavy, meaning not even the flashbacks will save us now. The song listed at the beginning of this chapter is one of my favorites of all time. It's emotional, beautiful, and will certainly make you cry. I blame James Arthur and his superb singing.

Thank you to my awesome beta team for cheering me along and for their quick work editing this chapter: sm_jl, be11atrixthestrange, adenei, and accio-broom. Go check out their fics because they are also amazing writers.

CW: Strong mention/discussion of physical and mental illness throughout this chapter, although there is nothing explicit. Through all of the darkness, there is a light, and this story will end happily.

Sweet Home Ottery

Chapter Nine

I remember when you were all mine

Watch you changing in front of my eyes

What can I say?

Now that I'm not the fire in the cold

Now that I'm not the hand that you hold

As you're walking away

Will you call me to tell me you're alright?

'Cause I worry about you the whole night

Don't repeat my mistakes

I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

If you're home I just hope that you're sober

Is it time to let go now you're older

Don't leave me this way

I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

Safe Inside - James Arthur

Five Years Ago

Two years of marriage pass by in such a wonderful, blissful blur. In all fairness, they've been so deliriously happy together for so many years, that Hermione reckons she should have seen what was coming next — she should have known that "for better and for worse" isn't just a saying, but a reality that most people have to cope with at one point or another.

She just didn't expect for that reality to start today.

Ron has been away on his latest mission for two weeks now — two weeks. It's the longest they've been apart...well...ever, and Hermione wonders why they've never prepared themselves for the possibility before now. Maybe if they'd had more experience being away from each other, living independent lives, it wouldn't hurt so much now.

Perhaps what hurts most is the 'no contact' rule. She's not allowed to see or speak to him until he returns, due to the Statute of Secrecy and for the protection of the Aurors' family and friends. Hermione thinks that last rule is rubbish as she's more than capable of protecting herself. She just wants to speak with her husband.

As an esteemed Auror, Ron often leads the charge to hunt down and capture dark wizards who have committed heinous attacks. Hermione always hopes that the dark wizard does not choose to resist arrest once captured. The more resistance, the more danger Ron is in if he has to battle it out in a fierce duel to apprehend the subject.

The worry in the pit of her stomach grows, and she takes a steady breath to try to calm the panic. She's not sure when he's supposed to be home, but it's been two weeks already. Every hour, every minute that he doesn't return fills her with an indescribable fear and leaves her feeling absolutely helpless. There's not a single thing she can do but wait.

At least she's not completely alone — she has Chudley, their furry pup they adopted a year ago, who is currently nestled into her side, relaxed in a peaceful slumber as she threads her fingers through the long golden hairs behind his ears.

Until the appearance of a dazzling silver animal makes her jump up from her spot on the sofa.

Corporeal Patronus. Stag.

No. No no no no no.

The animal hovers over her like a foggy mist as Harry's voice starts to speak. "Hermione, Ron's been injured. You need to meet me at St. Mungo's immediately. Please hurry."

Hermione takes two small steps backwards, terror sucking the very breath from her mouth. Her worst fear becomes a tangible, living force creeping over her, and she has to will every nerve ending in her body to get her feet to move towards the fireplace.

She needs to go. Now.

Somehow, she's able to stumble over to the hearth, hands trembling in an uncontrollable, odd rhythm as she scoops up a decent amount of floo powder.

"St.-" Her voice cracks, forcing her to stop mid-declaration, take another deep breath, and try again. "St. Mungo's!"

The green flames consume her, and within seconds she's landing on her feet in the reception area of the hospital. The emergency room is filled to the brim with injured wizards and Healers bustling around in a hurry. Hermione feels incapable of normal speech as she scans the room, the intense attack to her eyesight and the noise level overwhelming all of her senses.

She's just about to march up to the Welcome Witch and demand to know where Ron is when a voice calls out to her from across the room.

"Hermione! HERMIONE!"

It's Harry, who waves her over. She wants to run to him, but her feet will not allow her to do so. In her mind, if she delays the bad news, maybe it will give the Healers enough time to fix what went wrong. Maybe, just maybe, by the time she reaches Harry, she'll be able to hear the words, "Everything is alright. Ron will be fine."

An irritated look crosses Harry's face as Hermione slowly approaches. His dark brows are furrowed, eying her with concern behind his thick specs, most likely wondering why she's walking around in a trance like she's been obliviated without a clue as to where she is or where to go.

"He was hit with an unknown curse," Harry says once she's within hearing distance. He reaches an arm out and she clings to him, desperate for some sense of control over the situation. "We should know more once the Healers arrive."

Hermione can only nod in response. Her gaze flits about the room, never settling in a single place. Every detail around her — from the distinct, lime green color of the Healer robes to the mangled broom that a wizard carries through the reception, likely from a flying incident — is clear and as sharp as glass.

Molly and Arthur arrive, and Hermione can hear them trying to talk to her, but she pays them no mind. The situation doesn't yet feel real, like a dream she's about to wake up from.

Please be a dream.

Time slows as a Healer approaches and begins to address Hermione directly. She only processes a few words.

"Gravely injured...Janus Thickey Ward...stunning spell...could be left with permanent damage...the next few hours are critical…"

A distinct pulse beats through her ears, blocking out most of what the Healer and Harry are trying to say to her. The color drains from her face as she's hit with the word "critical". It freezes every muscle in her body as a cold wave washes over her, like a Dementor attack. In her mind, she tries to scream, but no sound comes out.

Molly is crying at her side, but Hermione can't bear to look at her. She stands on her feet for what feels like hours, not even fully registering her own movements as Harry wraps an arm around her shoulders, gently coaxing her to a secluded area of the waiting room, out of the way of the commotion. His lips are still moving, but all Hermione can comprehend is the bitter taste in the back of her mouth that she can't seem to get rid of.

As soon as her back hits a solid wall, a whimper escapes her lips, and her legs finally collapse out from under her. She slides down to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. Harry is beside her on the ground in an instant, and she allows her head to rest on his shoulder, ushering her eyes closed. The words she usually has, the questions she often asks, are gone, and her last interaction with Ron starts flashing through her mind…

"Love you always," Hermione whispers, standing on her tiptoes to give Ron a kiss on the cheek.

He pulls away from her. "Don't say that."

A pang of hurt runs deep through her chest. He's been in a sour mood all day long, but she's not quite sure the reasoning behind it. "Why not?"

"You always make me nervous, you do. Every time you say that like-"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm never coming back."

Her mouth runs dry. He's right, of course, but she doesn't want to admit that. "Ron, that's not how I mean it. I always tell you that I love you when you leave home. It's a pretty standard goodbye, you know."

"Yeah, but for you, it's always about the tone." His voice is tense, like he's holding back a lot more emotion than he's letting on.

"Why are you getting upset with me?" Hermione asks, eyes watering.

"It's like you don't believe that I'm competent enough to do the bloody job I've been trained for!" He snaps back, turning away from her as he leverages a hand on the stone mantle of the fireplace.

"That's not what I said at all!" She defends herself, running up behind him to place an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Ron, you're one of the best Aurors out there. I know that, I really really do."

"I've got to go." He grabs his wand from the side table with a force she didn't know he was capable of before swinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

"Ron, please don't leave like this," Hermione pleads, but he either doesn't hear her, or he doesn't care.

"RON!"

Hermione clenches her eyes shut, the memory so ingrained in her brain that it's like she has just re-lived it all in real time.

In some ways, their fight left Hermione with a regret that she knows she'll never get over if he doesn't make it through. Somehow, she will always blame herself, and will think that if she had managed to clear the air, maybe he would have gone into the mission with a clear mind. That he would have accepted her I love you, and know she meant it, and would have fought that much harder to come home safe to her.

"Hermione." Harry's soft voice finally breaks her out of her reverie, and she turns her head to find him peering down at her, eyes shining with hope. "Ron is awake."

He's awake.

The notion raises the fine hairs on her neck and her breath quickens as she struggles to a standing position, with Harry's assistance. They walk together to Ron's hospital room on the fourth floor, allowing Hermione just enough time for her to dwell in her emotional turmoil again.

The room itself seems so barren and sterile, lacking warmth, although she is slightly comforted when she spots Ron's lanky legs covered with plenty of blankets. The bile rises to her throat when her eyes settle on the magical barrier that his injured body is encased within, which is described as a way for him to receive the oxygen his lungs need while he recovers from his weakened state.

All she wants to do is reach out and touch him, to feel his pulse beneath her fingers, but that isn't possible at the moment. To be quite frank, Hermione feels utterly useless, not knowing what to do to ease his pain.

That uncertainty goes away the minute she locks eyes with him, and his lips work hard, slowly but surely, to turn up into that signature lopsided grin of his that makes her heart flutter.

"Hi, HGW."

A soft sob cuts through the room, and it takes Hermione a moment to recognize it as her own. She steps forward, lifting her hand before pausing, remembering that she can't touch him.

"Ron…"

His eyes droop to a close, and it's not long before he's falling back asleep. The Healer assures her that's normal, that he'll need plenty of rest if he's going to make a full recovery.

Harry starts whispering with Arthur, going over scenarios for how to help Ron through his recovery process. When Harry starts mentioning Lead Auror Robards, and how he plans to advocate for Ron to keep his position at the Ministry even if he's unable to assist with the physical missions, it dawns on Hermione that Ron may never be able to return to his Auror duties.

She tells herself that it's okay, they'll find a way through it, and all that matters is that he's alive and well.

But in her heart, she knows that things will never quite be the same again.

Present Day

"Hermione, don't forget to pick up the biscuits from Molly's tomorrow morning."

"I won't, Mum."

"Oh, and can you create some sort of banner for us? That's easy to do with magic, right?"

"Sure, Mum."

"Excellent. Oh, and-"

"Why don't you write down a list?" Hermione insists, with much more tension in her voice than she intends. "I'll take it and complete any task you want me to do before the party."

"Oh, that would be splendid," Jean replies, a brilliant smile appearing on her glowing face. Her mum is so excited for their anniversary that it's hard for Hermione to be irritated with her demands.

With a final clap, her mum exits the kitchen, likely to write down that list, and it wouldn't be a surprise if she thought of a few more tasks to add at the last minute. With a heavy sigh, Hermione massages her temple with one hand while keeping the other firm around her warm teacup.

"Don't be too frustrated with your mother, Flower," Hugo remarks from behind his newspaper. "She's just stressed over the party. You know how much she strives for perfection. Much like yourself, mind you."

"Yes, but it already will be perfect because it's the two of you."

"Easier to give out that advice rather than take it, huh?" He folds the ends of the parchment over so that he can get a good look at his daughter with his glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose.

"You're right," Hermione admits, placing her chin in her hand. "I'm a hypocrite."

"Hey now," Hugo says in a soothing voice, reaching his hand over the table to pat her arm. "I will not allow my daughter to have such self-deprecating thoughts about herself."

Hermione lifts her eyes to give her dad a grateful smile when the dark circles underneath his eyes make her lips turn downward instead. "How are you doing?" she questions.

Although a flash of gloom flickers across his face, he masks it quickly with a reassuring grin. "I'm just fine, sweetheart. But maybe I will go kip for a bit before your mum starts on her list with me too." Dropping a kiss to her forehead, Hugo leaves the room, and leaves Hermione to tend to her constant worrying.

Regardless of her concerns, she's determined to make this the best day possible for her parents. At the very least, that's something she has control over in her life.

It only takes the family a couple of hours to transform the Granger home the following day into a cheerful display that is colorful, creative, and traditional, capturing the duo's personality perfectly.

The garden is decorated with beautiful floral arrangements of dainty sweet peas and lovely lilies, taking on a blend of white and lilac colors with a variety of shapes and sizes. In the center of it all sits a smoothly coated white cake decorated with edible pearls, boasting a cake topper with the number '30'. A large table adorned with sandwiches and crisps along with plates piled high with sweets sits next to a giant bowl filled with a signature light green cocktail that tastes of chocolate and mint.

It's an exciting, engaging celebration, something for her parents to truly enjoy and commemorate the occasion.

Molly came by the house early to set up, making Hermione thankful for her constant assistance without even having to ask for it — despite everything, she's always been there like a second mum.

Hermione's hands slowly trace around the golden frames that hold pictures of her mum and dad at various points in their lives together, along with their favorite photographs with their closest family and friends over the years. It truly does take a village, and Hermione feels lucky that she grew up in one so supportive and loving. Even if that means they know every detail of her life, especially the most morbid ones.

She couldn't have asked for a better turnout — it seems as if the whole village has shown up. The Weasley family blends in quite well with the Muggles, seamlessly hiding evidence of their magic with wands tucked away beneath their clothing.

Her mum can't stop beaming with pride and hasn't let go of her father's arm all evening, a vision that fills Hermione's heart with warmth. It isn't until her fifth glance over at her parents that she notices her dad's legs twitching, and every so often after each quake, her mum squeezes his hand extra hard.

Curious. She's about to walk over to them when a voice redirects her attention.

"Hi."

Hermione's gaze turns to Ron, who has managed to sneak up on her. When did he get here? He's chewing with excessive noise on a licorice stick.

"Hi. I see you've already found the sweets table."

He chuckles, sending her a boyish grin that makes her stomach flip like she's a teenager again. "You know it. Great party."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione acknowledges his compliment with a nervous smile. "You made it back. How did the mission go?"

"Well." He pats his body down. "I'm in one piece if that's what you're asking."

She winces. It's not really the conversational topic she was hoping to have after her recent trip down memory lane. "I wasn't."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it."

He knows her so well, but she's still determined to steer the topic in a different direction.

"Thanks for coming," Hermione replies through a tight-lipped smile.

Nodding, his eyes travel around the garden. Following his movement, Hermione spots Harry and Ginny staring at them from across the way, eagerly greeting them with waves when they both look over. The tips of Ron's ears burn red and he turns back to Hermione.

"So, thirty years…" He murmurs. "That's quite the accomplishment."

"Yeah." Hermione exhales a deep breath, watching her mum laugh over something her dad whispers in her ear before placing a kiss on her cheek. "They make it look so easy, don't they?"

Ron remains quiet, so much so that Hermione turns back to find that he's not even looking at her anymore. Instead, his gaze has shifted to someone standing at the gate talking to Harry and Ginny.

"What is she doing here?"

It's Lavender. Hermione had been so consumed by the celebration preparations that she had pretty much forgotten that she had asked her to come. Judging by the frown on his face and the way his hands tense up at his sides, he's uncomfortable with her presence.

"I invited her."

Ron's head makes a sharp turn back to Hermione, gaping at her. "You what?"

Shrugging, Hermione adds, "We talked earlier this week."

"Oh yeah?" He grits his teeth. "What about?"

"You."

Ron's face pales, and his eyes dart back and forth between her and the blonde cowering in the corner.

"What did she say to you?"

"Nothing I haven't already been saying to myself," Hermione mumbles, just loud enough for Ron to hear her. His lips part as he searches her face, like he's looking for further explanation that might help him make sense of what's going on.

Ron may know Hermione very well, but she can't forget that she knows him too. Even if he doesn't want to be with her anymore, he does nothing to indicate that he wants to be with Lavender instead, and that is what she needed to determine —the main reason why she had invited the other woman here today.

And now Hermione knows — if there is even the slightest chance that Ron might not be ready for their marriage to end, she needs to grab hold of it. Now.

"Listen, Ron, I've been thinking about what you said before you left and-"

"I should sign the papers."

His interruption stills her train of thought. "Wh-what?"

This is not what she has planned for.

"I've been thinking, too, and I'll sign them." The words that leave Ron's mouth are cold and dismissive, a complete change from his friendly persona just moments ago. "Does tomorrow work?"

Her instincts are screaming no. Tomorrow does not work. Gulping, however, she reluctantly agrees. "Su-sure."

"Come to the cottage?"

"I can do that."

"Okay." Ron nods, his facial expression now void of all previous emotion. "I'll see you then. I'm going to congratulate your parents before I head out."

He doesn't offer a parting thought before walking away. The notion leaves her feeling like he's just taken the tip of his wand and plunged it straight through her stomach, twisting it for added effect.

"Hey…" Ginny appears beside Hermione, touching her on the arm. "What's wrong? I don't like your face right now."

It takes everything in her not to break down in front of what seems like the whole village.

"It's the face of someone who just realized their marriage is probably over."

Hermione offers to take on the majority of clean-up duty after the party ends. She finds cleaning cathartic and she welcomes the distraction after her disastrous meet-up with Ron. How could today have been such a wonderful day — filled with love and happiness for her parents — but also downright terrible at the same time?

She flicks her wand around the garden with trained ease, mindlessly waving rubbish into nearby bins and returning flower arrangements to the garden beds, leaving one flower-filled vase left over to serve as a centerpiece on the chestnut round table outside.

It's that very same table that her mum and dad occupy just as Hermione is finishing up with her tasks, bringing along with them a large tea pot and three matching teacups.

"Come sit down, sweetheart," Jean coaxes her over. "I thought we could all do with some tea before bed."

"Thanks, Mum." Hermione folds her hands underneath the wool of her jumper to keep them warm from the chilly night air. "A successful party. I hope you both had a wonderful time."

"Oh, it was a beautiful day!" Jean gushes.

"I agree," Hugo adds. "Even better because you were able to come home for it, Flower."

Just as Hermione's lips make contact with the rim of her glass, her mum blurts out, "Ron came."

Pausing before taking a tentative sip, Hermione confirms, "Yes, he did."

"Well...anything you want to tell us?"

Her mum's prying nature returns in full force, but Hermione has something else weighing on her mind, and she's determined to finally figure it all out.

"I actually have a question for you both."

Jean and Hugo exchange furtive glances before giving Hermione their full attention.

"What exactly is going on with you, Dad?" She looks directly at Hugo, who seems slightly taken aback.

"And before you try to come up with an excuse," Hermione quickly adds just as her mum opens her mouth to respond, "you should know that you are talking to someone who has been the master of making excuses for the past several years. I may be dealing with...other things...but that doesn't mean that I haven't noticed that something is wrong."

Turning again to her father, she adds, "You're tired all the time, you looked as if your knees were about to give out today...I want the truth, please."

Hugo studies his daughter for a moment, leaning back into his chair, before giving Jean a nod as if to say, "It's okay."

"The truth is Flower, I've been sick recently. The doctors say I have a chronic obstructive pulmonary condition. You know that I've had asthma for years, right?" Once Hermione nods to confirm, he continues. "Well, now my lungs are struggling to work properly. I have very very good days, and then I have...well, not so good days where I feel tired, weak, I might be coughing more-"

"No." Hermione shakes her head side to side at rapid speed, refusing to believe the news. Her mind spins in all sorts of directions, confused as to why the diagnosis isn't familiar with her, and frustrated that she doesn't have more information on it immediately at her fingertips. "No, you're not sick, because if you were, you would've told me."

Jean keeps a neutral expression on her face as she leans closer to Hermione, lowering her tone of voice. "We didn't want to worry you, sweetheart. We knew how worried you were about your work and how things have been with Ron — we simply didn't want to overwhelm you."

"But I-" Hermione pauses, the words catching in her throat. "If I knew, I could've helped. I could've come home sooner."

"The last thing I wanted was for you to put your life on hold for me," Hugo insists.

"Don't you get it?" Hermione cries, slamming her fist down on the table, making her parents jump back. "My life has been on hold for the past five years! I should've known about this, I should've — I should've been home…"

A horrible, sickening feeling takes over her entire body, the weight of her decision to stay away from home finally crashing down on her.

"Hermione-"

"How long?"

Her parents stare at her, open-mouthed, so Hermione rephrases her question.

"What's the prognosis?"

Understanding clouds her father's eyes as he rests his elbows on the table before clearing his throat. "We don't know. My body has responded to medication and the breathing treatments. My lungs are just a little weak right now. There is a chance I could recover fully, but at my age, we should prepare for every possibility."

We should prepare for every possibility.

Hermione remains quiet for several moments. She's never felt so out of control of her own body, her brain has never been so tied up in knots, and she's so frustrated that she feels like hexing the nearest china to bits.

Breathing in deep, she struggles to stand up without wavering, tears blurring her eyesight as she addresses her parents as calmly as possible. "There's something I can do. Please, just...I can — I can help, just give me some time."

"Hermione…"

As she closes her eyes with her wand clenched in her hand, Hermione knows exactly where she needs to go as she apparates on the spot.

She lands with a pop directly in the middle of the cottage — her cottage, with a wide-eyed Ron pointing his wand straight at her face in a matter of seconds.

"Bloody fuck!" His eyes squint before widening in shock once he processes who has just invaded his living space. "Hermione? Wait. Tell me who you are!"

Her entire body trembles, both from the news of her father that she's still reeling from and the fact that her husband looks like he could curse her any minute now.

"I'm your wife."

His fingers flinch but he still maintains a firm grip on his wand. "Prove it."

There are so many ways that she could do that. For starters, she has half the mind to smash her lips against his, to show him that he knows her in every single way, but she suspects it wouldn't go over well at the moment.

So instead, she says the first thought that comes to mind, something that only she would know about him.

"On our wedding night, by the tree, you said to me, 'I'm going to love you always, HGW.'"

His eyes bore into hers with a fierce intensity, body shocked still for several agonizing seconds as if he's no longer capable of breathing.

Lowering his wand at his side, Ron lets out a heavy sigh. "For fuck's sake. What are you doing here, coming in like that without any warning? I thought we were meeting tomorrow."

"Do you still have them?" She's rushing through the home towards the bedrooms without waiting for an answer, stumbling over her own two feet with tears streaking her face, leaving a confused and speechless Ron in her wake.

Ron's petrified state doesn't last for long, as he's hot on her trail. "Hermione-"

"My books. Where are they?" She shouts, walking into the library den as her hands immediately begin to scour the titles, searching for a particular one. "You must have them somewhere."

Ron stands in the doorway, gawking at her like she's gone mental. "Hermione, what-"

She pushes onward, reminding herself what's at stake. She's willing to do anything to change her father's outcome. Anything. "I can't, I need to find-"

"Hermione, stop — what the bloody hell..." He lets out an aggravated growl, and Hermione can hear his heavy footsteps drawing closer and closer.

She doesn't let his protests deter her as she snatches book after book, discarding the unwanted titles on the floor, continuing her search. Hermione heaves out desperate breaths, anxiously muttering to herself. "No, that's not it — oh, but maybe this one — no, that won't help…"

For each wave of disappointment she's met with when she finds a publication she doesn't need at the moment, the hope in her heart dwindles away.

Never have books felt so useless to her in her life.

"HERMIONE!" Ron's hands are on her shoulders now, shaking her with just enough force to make himself heard. "What's going on?"

Her internal anguish catches up to her, although she's unable to properly make out the words she needs to say to him. Losing all strength to continue, Hermione's shoulders cave in and a sob escapes her tightened throat.

"I can't help him."

"Who?" The desperation is evident in Ron's voice as his eyes wildly search hers for answers. "Who can't you help?"

"My-my father. He's sick, Ron."

The only sound that follows is Ron's sharp intake of breath. "What...what do you mean? Oh, Hermione."

The physical blow is too much for her to handle on her own any longer and she dissolves into a fit of tears, spasms coursing through her entire body. Ron's wrapping her in her arms in an instant, cradling her head with his hands as he holds her tight against his chest.

"Hey, come here, come here. Shhh. Everything will be alright."

"No, it won't!" She screams, stepping out of his embrace and grabbing fistfuls of her bushy, tangled hair at the side of her head. "Everything already isn't alright, Ron! Look at us! Look at what I've done! I've lost so much time with my parents that I can never get back, all because of my selfish reasons to stay away."

A visible gulp rolls down Ron's throat, arms remaining outstretched as if frozen in place, unsure of what to do next.

"How am I-" Her voice breaks, realizing the weight of what she's just afflicted on Ron. The world is spinning with no discernible end. It's taken her a long time to come to terms with what she's already let go of, that the thought of having to watch her father suffer is too much to bear. "I can't lose him."

"Hey." Ron moves toward her, palming both of her cheeks within his hands. The gesture makes her gaze into his deep blue eyes, offering a sweet respite in the midst of all of her madness. "You haven't lost me. You'll always have me, okay?"

A choked noise, somewhere between a sob and a cry of relief, comes from the back of Hermione's throat, and all at once she's in Ron's arms again, weeping as she leans her forehead against his. The taste of his hot breath mingling with hers makes the throbbing pain behind her eyes lessen to a dull ache. She's gripping his shoulder blades tight over the thin cotton of his pyjama shirt that she just realized he's wearing, desperate to hold him as close as possible — desperate for any increased fortitude to make it through this moment.

"I should've come back a long time ago," Hermione whispers, closing her eyes to focus more on matching the pace of her breathing with Ron's.

"We can't change the past, yeah?"

We can't change the past.

The simple reminder releases her from the spell she's under, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed for showing up unannounced, like a blubbering mess, at the cottage.

Wiping her eyes, she pulls back. "I should go. I'm sorry, I never should have-"

"Stay."

One single word makes the pace of her heart quicken. "What?"

"Please stay." Ron repeats his request, not bothering to hide the urgency in his voice. "You're in no condition to apparate home, and if you go home now you won't have a clear head. Just stay here. Please."

She doesn't have the energy left to fight him. Not today. "Okay."

"Come on." He takes her hand, leading her out of the library just as she manages to snag the lone book remaining on the shelf, hugging the shell of its binding close to her chest.

With a flick of his wand, he turns the lights on in the guest bedroom, guiding Hermione over to the edge of the mattress. Her fingertips slowly trace the outline of the book title she has in her hands as she sits down — Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. She doesn't imagine that she'll find any answers she's looking for tucked away inside these pages, but it's the only source she has.

"Here. Drink this." Ron thrusts a vial filled with a purple liquid into her hands.

It's a bottle of Dreamless Sleep. She doesn't argue with him, even to point out how, just over a week ago, he was vehemently against her taking the potion to cure her sleepless nights, for she recognizes that Ron isn't her biggest enemy at the moment — it's herself, and she could do with a decent night's rest.

Popping open the cork, Hermione dips her head back and swallows the entire contents of the vial before placing it on the nightstand. Ron appears satisfied as he pulls back the duvet, allowing her to tuck her feet underneath the warm cover.

He bends over her tired frame, moving his face so close to hers that she finds it hard to remember to keep breathing. There is so much tenderness in his expression as his eyes scan up and down her face, that she wonders if he might kiss her. Just as he leans in even further, he hesitates, like he's second guessing his decision. Much to Hermione's dismay, he offers her a warm smile before standing up and taking his warmth and musky scent with him.

"Now close your eyes and sleep."

The soft padding of his footsteps drift away until he no longer can be heard, and Hermione allows the fatigue she's been fighting ever since returning to Ottery St. Catchpole to take over, lulling her into a deep sleep.