Essence of Hope
Disclaimer- sigh I know it's not mine.
A/N This has been sitting in my writing file for a good long time. Nearly a year I think. I've been debating on posting it as some people might find it confusing. It is the 2nd in a trilogy. The first is Absence of Hope. They are a lot alike, mainly from different points of view and this one takes place a while after the first. There will be a third when I get 'round to writing it. Which will happen eventually.
It's three in the morning. It's always three in the morning.
I bolt upright and sit there staring into the darkness that is my bedroom. My lungs are begging for air and I gasp trying to fill them. Shaking I wipe the sweat from my forehead and wait for the terror to pass, down the hall I can hear Ron waking from his own nightmare. Hermione's feet run past my door, she's always the first to hear him. Throwing the covers off I stand and go to help her put him back to bed.
He is crouched in a corner again, covering his face with his arms. She's kneeling beside him, cooing soft words in his ear.
"Come on." I say and bend down.
Usually he allows us to lift him to his feet and haul him back to bed. There have been times when he fought, still in the throes of his dreams, but those are far behind us. Though I feel my eyes shift to the potion still sitting atop the chest of drawers. Tonight, however, as I heft him up, he looks at me and for a second I think he knows me.
"Mione." I whisper.
She looks at me with her tired eyes and motions for me to move him into bed.
"What Harry?" She asks with a sigh.
I carefully lay him on the bed and pull the covers up to his chest, tucking them tightly around him.
"I think…" I stop when he touches my arm.
"What?" She says and shifts her weight.
"I think I'll stay with him tonight." I tell her and she nods.
Quickly I climb beneath the covers and signal that she can leave.
His forehead is pressed against my shoulder. I can feel his breathing against my skin and find it comforting.
"Ron." I whisper.
There is no response.
"Ron. I know you're there." I feel stupid.
For a long moment there is nothing, and I am ready to give up when his fingers touch my wrist. It is feather light and curious, as though he thinks I might disappear.
"Harry." He murmurs and is asleep.
I wake first and go to get Hermione. She has once again curled into a ball at the foot of her bed, the sheet wrapped tightly around her. There is no need to call her, she opens her eyes and looks blankly at me with her solemn brown gaze.
"Morning." I say.
"It is." She answers.
Patiently, I wait for her to untangle herself and stretch.
"I'll dress him, if you'll make breakfast." I offer.
She nods and touches my shoulder in passing.
Back in Ron's room I find him staring at the sunlight pouring through his window. Even after a year part of me expects him to turn and grin wildly at me, instead he smiles and continues gazing out at the sky.
"Time to get you dressed." I announce.
He looks towards me absently and I dig through the drawers for his clothing. Soon I am helping him pull up a pair of jeans and showing his fumbling hands how to work the zipper.
"There. See, that wasn't so hard. Now lets try shoes."
I tug his socks onto his feet and then push them into his trainers. As my fingers tie the laces, something touches my shoulder and I look up. He is looking down at me, blinking confusedly.
"Ron?" I asked.
He opens his mouth as if to speak then smiles stupidly. My hands are shaking, his shoe laces go untied. Something falls in the kitchen and Hermione curses loudly.
"Come on then, time for breakfast. Lets go see what your wife has fixed today." I tell him and pull him to his feet.
He follows mindlessly and sits in the chair I tell him to. Hermione and I take turns helping him bring his toast to his mouth. She is glaring into her plate and I can see the tears beginning to form under her eye lids.
"Mione?" I ask.
She looks up and then away.
"What's wrong?"
"Get him settled in the living room before you go to work. I'll do the dishes." She says and stands, taking her dish to the sink.
Sighing heavily, I pull Ron from his chair and lead him to the living room, gently setting him down on the couch. As I straighten his shirt there is crash from the kitchen and I hurry to check on her. A plate has fallen and is shattered over the floor. She sits amidst the broken pieces and sobs.
"Mione? Please stop crying." I sit next to her, feeling the glass shards bite into my skin.
"He's never coming back. Not ever." She says to herself over and over.
"Mione!" I shake her and she meets my gaze.
"What?"
"Get up."
Together we manage to get to our feet and I brush the bits of plate from my slacks and from her clothing.
"I'm sorry." She says.
"He knew me this morning." I blurt out.
"What?"
"He knew me. He looked at me."
She shakes her head and pulls her wand from her pocket. With a quick repairing spell, the plate is back in her hands again. Before anything else can happen I hug her, wanting desperately to bring some life back to her tired body.
"Go to work Harry, remember to come back."
I obey and apparate before she can begin crying again.
That night I make dinner. We eat in silence and then get Ron ready for bed. He lets us dress him in nightclothes and tuck the covers tightly about his chest.
"Goodnight." I tell him and squeeze his shoulder lovingly.
Hermione whispers something in his ear and kisses his lips before jogging to her room and slamming the door. I wait an hour in the pitch black of my room. My mind races with a thousand thoughts. I need to escape, I need someplace new, I need a new life, I need Hermione. The last thought wins and I make the walk to her bedroom silently.
She is not surprised when I wrap my arms around her and kiss the back of her neck. Turning, she meets my kisses with her own and tugs at the band of my pants. There is no great love between us, no burning passion, only need. I need her soft skin to ease the ache in my chest and she needs my rough touch to forget what has become of her life.
I hear her call out my name, feel her teeth bite into my shoulder. One hand clasps her own and twines our sweaty fingers together while the other balances my movements. Her long fingernails scrape down my spine and I collapse on top of her still moaning loudly against her neck.
It takes a few minutes for our bodies to cool and I roll away from her, ashamed of what I have done.
"Do you blame me?" I ask not for the first time.
"No."
"It was my fault."
"I know."
I cringe at her honesty and try not to picture the light enveloping him as he leaps in front of me.
"I should have taken the spell, not him."
"I know."
"But you don't blame me?"
"Never."
Shaking I rise and pull on my pants. She offers to let me stay, but I can't.
It's three in the morning. It's always three in the morning.
Hermione beats me to his room and I hurry after her. When we lift him from the floor he looks straight into my eyes and somehow I know he's there. Deep inside he's trying to come back to us. I look at her as she climbs in beside him and can't help but feel guilty.
"Goodnight." I say and hurry to my room.
I curl up in my bed and wait patiently for the touch of light from the window. The light that brings the dawn, that brings hope.