The next two weeks were an eternity for Ron.
Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. The days stretched into weeks, and there was still no word from Hermione. Details of missions were need to know only, and so he was left in limbo, able only to wonder where she was, if she was all right, when she was coming back.
If she was still having the nightmares.
He hoped not. He was having a hard enough time adjusting to sleeping without her, and he wasn't battling the demons she was. He couldn't stand the thought of her waking up screaming in the middle of the night somewhere, cold and alone in the dark, with no one there to comfort her.
More than anything, he never again wanted her to wake up in the middle of the night, cold and alone in the dark without him.
And spending each of those endless nights by himself, he'd come to understand that he never wanted to fall asleep without her again, either. He'd only lain beside her for a handful of nights, but it was long enough for him to learn that it was what he wanted, for always.
He felt the distinct absence of her presence at all times, but did his best to occupy his thoughts with work. It was harder at night. That was when he missed her the most. Each evening when he slipped beneath the blankets on their bed – he couldn't stop thinking of it as 'theirs' – he tried in vain to ignore how alone he felt there, without her. The bed felt too big. His arms felt too empty.
With nothing to do but lie there in the dark and stare up at the ceiling, thoughts of Hermione intruded and filled his senses. And each night he came to the same realization: Over the past seven years, they had become part of each other. Him, Harry and Hermione. Existing without one of them in his life was like suddenly losing an arm.
Having Harry back helped. He'd arrived on foot a week ago, seven days after Hermione had left by port key. The boy who lived had somehow triumphed again, although it had taken him over a week to recover from his injuries he'd sustained – apparently while locked in some sort of interdimentional bubble with Draco Malfoy – and get back safely. Harry's return healed something in Ron, but not completely. He was still missing a part of himself.
The whole mansion continued to ride the wave of exhilaration Harry's arrival had caused, Ron included, but it didn't take away his anxiety over Hermione. She was all he could think about. He kept seeing her face in his mind, in that moment right before she left. The expression in her eyes haunted him…what did it mean? Now that she knew how he felt about her, what did she think of him? Did she miss him, at all?
His missing her was an ache that never fully went away. It flared up at the most unexpected times, constantly distracting him. At all times, at least part of his mind was devoted to rehearsing what he would say when she finally returned. He contemplated, at length, taking back what he'd said. If he told her he didn't mean it, that he'd only said it to keep her from going, she'd be angry at first, but then things would go back to the way they'd been. She'd still be in his life.
But the truth was, he didn't think he could do it. He didn't think he could lie to her, not about that. And a larger part of him simply didn't want to. He'd felt this way for such a long time that it was a relief to finally just say it. To have gotten it off his chest. Ultimately, he decided to stick with the truth. He decided that just about as many times a day as he decided to recant his declaration. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't think when he was in such a state, and he waited half in anticipation, half with trepidation for Hermione's return.
And so always, half of his attention was fixed on the comings and goings of operatives. He spent every moment waiting for her to come back, so he shouldn't have really been all that surprised when Neville Longbottom came running into the dining hall two weeks later, excitedly telling everyone that Hermione had returned.
Ron froze. He shouldn't have been taken by surprise, but his heart leaped up into his throat, anyway, as Neville went on to say that he heard it from Colin Creevey who'd seen her exiting the main parlor himself, moments ago.
Immediately the room began buzzing with conversation. Harry's return the week before had been a cause for great relief among the Order. Now, with the last of the 'golden trio' safely home, faith was restored and spirits were high.
Ron felt all of their eyes on him, but for once he didn't care. He didn't even pause.
He whirled, grabbing Neville by the arms. "Where is she?" he asked urgently. "Neville, where did she go?"
Neville's mouth opened and closed like landed grouper. Surprise had opened his eyes as wide as they would go, but when Ron shook him he seemed to regain his composure. "She…Colin said she was headed to Dumbledore's office. Probably to debrief."
Of course. Ron immediately unhanded Neville and bolted from the dining hall at a dead run, his dinner forgotten. Heart racing, his pulse pounded in time with the thundering of his feet as he dashed down the corridor toward the second floor landing. He was going so fast that he couldn't stop when he reached the intersection of the three hallways, and he skidded into the wall.
He managed to keep his feet, but barely. Panting, Ron looked up and there she was. Halfway down the hall, heading away from him. The sight of her wrecked him. She was a balm for all of his wounds, and yet his stomach knotted instantly with nerves. He couldn't delay. He couldn't wait for her to debrief with Dumbledore. He couldn't wait.
"Hermione!" he called, and pushed himself away from the wall. The shove gave him a kick-start down the corridor, and he jogged toward her.
Hermione had just placed her hand on the doorknob to Dumbledore's office, but turned at the sound of her name. Now, seeing Ron trot toward her, Hermione abandoned the door and headed back toward him.
They met in the middle of the corridor, and Ron had to restrain himself from hugging her. No matter what happened next, he was just so glad to see she was all right. Indeed, she looked remarkably better than she had when she left. The dark circles under her eyes had faded, and she looked bright and alert. Her eyes were shining their warmest brown at him, and she licked her lips anxiously.
Ron's nerves returned full force as he pulled up short before her. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to begin now that the moment had finally arrived. Fortunately for him, Hermione was not so recalcitrant.
She dove right in. "Did you mean it?"
Ron couldn't breathe. Suddenly everything came down to this. Everything he'd been waiting for, everything he'd been dreading. Everything he'd ever wanted. There were a hundred possible outcomes, depending upon what happened in this moment.
If he had hopes – any at all – of returning their friendship to what it had been, this would be the time for him to take back what he said.
But when he looked into her eyes, he saw something…an unfamiliar gleam that hooked his attention more effectively than if a million galleons were to abruptly begin raining down from the ceiling. It sent a delicious shiver racing across his skin and his heart leaped with sudden hope. It was then that he realized there'd never really been any question of what he would say. He'd known all along.
He took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from that new, exciting look in her eyes as he laid it all on the line. "Yes," he said.
Hermione exhaled, and only then did he realize she'd been holding her breath. It came out somewhere in between a gasp and a sigh, and a smile trembled on her lips as her eyes welled up with tears. In one motion, she slipped the strap of her knapsack over her shoulder, letting the bag fall to the floor as she launched herself at him.
Ron staggered back a step, absorbing the impact as she threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Ron," she breathed in his ear, and that told him everything he needed to know.
His arms had automatically gone around her waist when she'd landed on him, and now he tightened them, lifting her off her feet and just holding on. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed her in, smiling when her out-of-control hair tickled his nose.
Hermione was still doing her best to squeeze the life out of him, but he was too happy to care about trivial things like oxygen. And what she said next sent him soaring.
"The whole time I was gone, I was so afraid that by the time I got back you'd have gone off on another mission, or that you'd change your mind, or that you hadn't really meant it at all, or…"
She broke off, pulling back from him a little. Ron gently set her on her feet as she looked up at him earnestly. "I wanted to stay," she said. "I'm so sorry for having to leave like that, without saying anything. There was just no time!"
"I know," Ron reassured her. "I knew you had to go. It's all right."
"It's not all right!" Hermione protested, looking urgently into his eyes. "I should've found a way… I should have at least told you that I love you, too."
Ron went very still. He could feel his heart throbbing in his chest, but everything else suddenly seemed frozen. He actually took a step back in his shock. Hermione's brow furrowed at his reaction and she mirrored his step, advancing as he retreated. "Ron?"
Ron grappled with her words. Did she mean…? But no, she just said that she should have said it. That wasn't necessarily the same thing.
Once again, Hermione appeared able to interpret from his expression what he was thinking. She smiled up at him; the look on her face was similar to the one she wore every time she'd ever had to tell him something he should have already known. Only infinitely more tender. "Ron. I always have."
He stared back down at her. She loved him. Hermione loved him.
Ron's heart swelled, and he felt everything inside him flutter. It only intensified when Hermione reached a hand up to caress his face, starting at his temple and tracing lightly down over his cheek. Overwhelmed, Ron lowered his head as Hermione's hand altered trajectory, sliding up to drape itself over the back of his neck. Her other hand came to rest on his arm as he wrapped both of his around her waist again.
He felt the heat between them, and the history. Seven years of friendship converged on this point. It was new, and it was exciting, but at the same time it was just Ron and Hermione.
She drew him down to her, and there was nothing awkward about it at all. It was as if they'd kissed a million times before, and knew all of the right moves. Ron thought, briefly, that if Hermione had daydreamed about it anywhere near as much as he had, then they had a substantial amount of accumulated fantasy-kisses between them.
And then there were no thoughts, none at all, because Hermione was pressed up against him, and Hermione's arms were around him, and Hermione's lips were fused to his, and there was nothing else in the world that mattered, anywhere, save them. With something that was half her name, half a moan, Ron clutched her even more tightly to him, and kissed her the way he'd been wanting to ever since he could remember.
Hermione sighed, opening her mouth, and Ron couldn't resist the invitation. He tasted her lips tentatively, finding them as sweet and tempting as he'd imagined. Hermione returned the favor, her tongue darting into his mouth and triggering all sorts of reactions from his body.
Ron had kissed before, but not by much. It had always been a peck on the cheek, with the occasional fumble that landed on his lips. He wasn't even sure that they'd all qualified as kisses. What with school, and the war with Voldemort approaching, there'd never really been much opportunity for any of them, save Harry's mishap with Cho Chang in fifth year. What experience Ron did have came mostly from relatives at holidays (who definitely did not count) and giggling girls at the school balls he'd been dragged to. None of them had ever been the one girl he'd really wanted to kiss, and so he hadn't bothered pursuing them.
None of them had been with an open mouth. None had been anything like this. This was amazing. This was Hermione.
This was heaven.
He thought that he might have gone on kissing her forever, if he hadn't felt the wetness on her face. If he hadn't tasted the salt of her tears. She was crying.
Ron hated to end the most perfect, amazing moment of his life, but he knew enough to realize it wasn't exactly a good sign when the girl you're snogging is weeping at the same time. Remembering Cho Chang for the second time in as many minutes, Ron forced himself to break the kiss. His concerned eyes searched Hermione's face.
"Hermione?" he asked. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Hermione only cried harder, but to his relief she threw her arms around his neck again. At least she didn't appear to think this was a mistake, like she had the night before she left. Slightly mollified, but still a little worried, he decided to wait her out.
It appeared to be the right decision, because after a minute or two her body stopped quaking, and the sobbing subsided. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her face turned in toward his neck. Ron, who had held her through the entire incident, thought it was finally safe to ask, "All right, there?"
Hermione laughed, weakly. "I'm sorry," she said into his neck. "I just…with everything that's been going on…the war and all, and Harry, and I was afraid that I'd ruined any chance for us, after wanting it for so long, and…"
"It's okay," Ron breathed into her hair, speaking more to himself than anyone. "Everything's okay, now. You're back. Harry's back, and everything's - "
Hermione gasped and jerked back, staring up at him with wide, shocked eyes. Sudden, fierce hope blazed in them. "Harry?" she breathed.
Ron looked down at her, confused at first. "Yeah, he made it back last week…everybody knows…I thought. You mean you didn't know?"
Hermione was shaking. Her breath caught in her throat. Overwhelmed by relief, she closed her eyes, displacing the tears that had collected there again. Twin trails of silvery tears slid down her cheeks.
Ron watched helplessly, berating himself for assuming she'd known. She shouldn't have had it sprung on her like that.
Suddenly her knees buckled, and he reacted instantly to catch her. She ended up in his arms again, her head once more resting on his shoulder. Her voice wavered when she explained, "I was deep."
Ron swore to himself. That explained it. Operatives who were 'deep' were under cover. They were cut off from all communication so as to minimize risk of discovery in the field. Hermione had been under the assumption this whole time that Harry was still missing.
She dissolved into relieved sobs, and Ron held her tightly as she broke down. He understood exactly how she felt. The day Harry had returned, still bruised and weak from his ordeal, Ron had gone back to his room that night and shaken uncontrollably for ten solid minutes. And only now, when Hermione was in his arms again, did anxiety release him. Only now did he feel fully at peace. The edge to everything that had been eating away at him for the past two weeks was finally gone.
Hermione could feel it, too. She clung to him, sobbing. "Thank God," she said, so fundamentally relieved that she'd reverted to muggle exclamations. "Oh, thank God."
Ron held her until she calmed again, and then pulled back gently, looking into her eyes. "Do you want to see him?"
Hermione could manage only a vigorous nod; then she let him transfer an arm around her shoulders as he steered her toward the ballroom.
Once there, she picked his dark head out immediately from the throng of people gathered in the schooling section. Harry was surrounded by a group of some of the younger students, telling the story of his fight with the Death Eaters, again. It had been an epic battle, involving a trip to an ethereal plane and spells the students hadn't even dreamed of yet, and they made him tell the story at least twice a day. Currently, he was demonstrating one of the blocking spells he'd used, but he looked up when he heard his name.
Hermione was running toward him, tears streaming down her face. Harry turned just in time to catch her as she flew into his arms. She squeezed him tightly, and he returned the hug as Ron strolled up at a more leisurely pace.
"Oh, Harry, you're all right!" Hermione breathed. "I was so…we all thought…"
Hearing the genuine anguish in her voice, Harry stroked a calming hand over her hair. "I know," he said. "For awhile there, I thought I was a goner."
Hermione pulled back and looked up at him, as if to reassure herself that he really was standing there, alive and well. Her expression was a study in emotion as she looked from Harry to Ron, and back again. Then she flung herself at them both, an arm around each boy's neck. "You're both okay. You're both all right, and here, and we're all okay."
Ron cleared his throat. Hermione's obvious sentiment was getting to him, as it seemed to be getting to Harry. Their eyes met, and the next thing Ron knew they were all three hugging…Hermione's presence making it much easier than it would've been if it had been just the two boys.
As it was, it felt thoroughly natural. Thoroughly right. They were all together again, the way they were meant to be. And in that moment, Ron felt invincible.