Closer
The last time she had Apparated side-along was back during their Hunt. Out of practice, Hermione struggled to find her footing even after the spinning stopped and the room materialised around her. As she stumbled, trying her best to land gracefully, suddenly there was a palm flat against the small of her back, helping her find her balance. She gasped quietly at the contact as Ron continued to support her frame, her hand clasped firmly in his, standing steady beside her.
"Are you a'right?" he asked, his voice deep and gentle. The living room, shrouded mostly in darkness, was barely lit by the moonlight outside. Any other person and she'd have all her senses alert, on guard. But with him, despite all the years between them, there was still a sense of utmost security. She was vividly aware of his presence in a mind-bogglingly pleasant way and had to consciously remind herself to breathe. She turned a smidge to the right to take him in just as he moved a little, and a beam of the moonlight streaming in through the glass door lit up his features, reminding her inexplicably of their school days. Hermione looked away hurriedly, fighting the urge to bury herself in his arms. It was already agonizing not being loved back, this closeness was sheer torture...
She took a few minutes to steady madly thudding heart before she spoke. "Y-yes," she managed, quietly regretting the loss of his touch as he let go immediately and moved away.
As Ron dropped the jacket on the couch and walked to the other end of the room, she continued to watch his tall frame, unable to take her eyes off, soaking in his presence. The switch flicked and the living space suddenly flooded with light causing her to shield her eyes with her hand before they adjusted to the brightness.
It was then she noticed his face...
….
Ron licked the cut on his lower lip, struggling to understand his jumbled emotions. On one hand, it was a relief to have her back here with him, safe and sound. He knew he'd be worried sick had she gone back to her flat alone. He had even made up his mind to return and keep watch outside her building. It'd be rather unnecessary- it was impossible that the men knew her address, but watching her narrowly escape such an encounter had triggered a lot of unpleasant memories and he'd need to ensure she was safe- for his own sanity if nothing else.
To his immense relief, she seemed shaken but mostly unharmed. Unfortunately, the crazy turn of events had suddenly pulled down all the walls he had carefully built around himself. His nerves were jittery from the incident anyway and her proximity only added fuel to fire. Hermione had simply barged back into his life in a way he hadn't expected, leaving him struggling as he tried to keep his word. All he needed was to hold her close to his heart if nothing more. But he let go of her as soon as she found her balance, fisting his fingers lest he gave in to the urge and pulled her back into his arms. This new closeness was maddening and he had to remind himself over and over that just because she wore his ring, it did not give him the right to overstep his boundaries. He could have turned on the switch by magic, he reckoned, but it made more sense to move away, just to hold on to whatever little bit of sanity he still had left. He dropped the jacket on the couch, the zipper tugging on his raw skin, and immediately winced in pain. Obviously. His fucking arm was still bleeding, he hadn't cast the charm correctly.
As the Muggle lights illuminated the whole room, he ignored his pain, concentrating on her instead. He took her in, desperately searching for any signs of injury as Hermione blinked a few times before she squinted, her eyes adjusting to the light.
And then, she let out a gasp.
Even before Ron could register what was happening, she was already hurrying towards him. Hermione came to a halt with barely any space between their bodies and his breath caught in his throat as she was suddenly flush against his chest, tiptoeing to reach him. She cupped his face and let out an audible cry, her eyes pooling instantly.
"Oh, Ron…"
He sucked in a breath and struggled to remain still at her touch while she ran her thumb at the corner of his left eye, wiping off the blood. The skin was very raw, he winced.
"Sorry!" she cried and pulled away her hands and he regretted not biting back the pain. But then she was looking into his eyes again, the familiar look of determination forming in her features. He inhaled deeply, soaking in her scent and memorising every little gesture of hers. It was overwhelming to find her worry about him.
"Please tell me you have Dittany at home?" she asked as she moved a smidge, turned on the spot and grabbed his arm right over his barely healed skin.
As searing pain shot through her touch he snatched his arm away from her grasp and she looked back at him, hurt- before she noticed what was wrong.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped, grabbing his hand tenderly before looking up to meet his eyes, tears glistening in those beautiful brown pools. She opened and closed her mouth as if on the verge of saying something before she looked away, sniffed and wiped off a tear.
"Hey...It's not that bad, I swear..." he managed, trying to smile.
She let out a small, incredulous laugh, turned back to face him and shook her head disbelievingly. His smile was genuine this time. Huffing, she took his left arm, her small hand fitting snugly in his large one, and guided them over to the couch. He followed her silent instruction and sat down, folded his right leg under him to face her properly. It felt so natural to give her the lead, do what she asked him to without questioning her at all… Ron watched fondly as Hermione pulled out her wand and placed it on the table before taking her place close to him, their knees bumping into each others'. She exhaled soundly once, tucked a lock of unruly curls behind her ear and grabbed his injured arm to inspect it closely.
"We need to clean this first," she stated quietly, "The wound hasn't sealed all the way," she added, sniffing a little and met his eyes. Her lips parted as she seemed to search for something in his eyes before she exhaled soundly and looked back at his arm again. "Need to clean it first," she repeated, almost to herself, picked up her wand and conjured a bowl before filling it with water. She waved her wand in a circular motion, the water swirled in the bowl and began giving off vapours indicating the heating charm had done its job.
He had lost track of the times he had injured himself or the fights he had had. They had become a part of his life now and he usually sat alone tending to his injuries, at times not even bothering to heal himself. Tonight, however, everything was different. He shuddered at the memory while fighting the urge to wrap her in his arms as she fretted over the bleeding wound. Did she know that this was really nothing and he'd take an Avada to his heart to keep her safe? He'd relive his worst nightmares thousand times over if it ensured her safety?
He watched mesmerised as she conjured a washcloth, dipped it in the water and squeezed out the excess. Grabbing his hand in her left, she gently patted the washcloth over the deep cut, wiping off the blood, her eyes glued to the task at hand. As Ron continued to watch her tending to his wound, in a very very long time, he felt at home.
"I'll have to undo the charm and redo it. This will hurt." Her tone was soft and caring and he tried to hold back an impossible hope from creeping back into his heart and failed utterly. Unable to find words, he nodded, smiling a little and drowning in those pretty eyes before she looked away, blushing.
"Ready?" she asked after a couple of minutes, wand poised but looking worried.
"Yes," he breathed.
She blew out softly before she undid the charm and Ron sucked in a breath as the long cut split open and began bleeding again. Her hand gripped him harder before she recast the spell just as quickly. The wound sealed itself completely this time. She was quick to wipe away the blood. And although it still throbbed and hurt as the magic continued to heal it from within, Ron sighed blissfully as she met his eyes finally.
"Better?" she asked, dropped back the wand and traced the new skin tenderly with her thumb.
"Yes,"
He realised how much longing his words held when she gasped quietly to look at him. His fingers ached to cup her face and touch her lips with his. This was madness. He had been a fool to accept her offer without thinking this through- how would he even survive this ordeal?
"Hold still," she instructed, unaware of his internal struggle or pretending not to notice, he wasn't sure. She pulled her legs up on the couch and got up on her knees while scooting close to scrutinize his face. "We will need Dittany and Bruisewort. Hope you have some?" she inquired as she brushed his fringe to the side, and continued to inspect his face.
Feeling pleasantly dizzy, Ron had to pull all the strength he possessed to reply. "I had to refill some but -" he paused and grabbed his jacket, pulled out his wand to summon the small box that zoomed out of the kitchen right towards them. Hermione caught it deftly and opened it, tutting as she pulled out a couple of almost empty vials.
"How could you forget to refill these?" she asked, annoyed, shaking the glass vials in front of him before she placed them back in the box. He smiled sheepishly, feeling utterly happy. Glaring at him from the corner of her eyes, she uncorked the vial labelled Essence of Dittany and picked up the dropper from the potion box. Ron let out a small chuckle.
Blimey... he had sorely missed being scolded like this...
"Close your eyes and tilt your head back," she instructed. Resting his back against the couch, he did as asked and strangely enough, was strikingly more aware of her presence. She had scooted towards him and he could feel that her face was much too close to his. Her fragrance seemed to have wrapped him in its embrace. He felt a small drop at the corner of his eye and bit back a hiss, and gasped quietly as she touched the cuts on his cheeks with the tip of her finger, smearing the potion over them. He barely even registered the sting this time. And suddenly her fingertip was touching the cut on his lower lip and he exhaled haltingly through his mouth and opened his eyes to find her eyes locked on his lips.
It took her a moment to feel his eyes on her. Blushing, she lost her balance and he grabbed her instinctively at her waist while her palms found and grasped him on his shoulders for support. Ron was sure time stopped
There was no denying that the longing hadn't dulled the least between them. It scared him to bits. How was he going to keep his promise and distance if Hermione continued to invade his private space, look at him this way and blush crimson under his gaze? What was she trying to do anyway? He didn't break the gaze until looked away, heaving, her eyelids heavy, lips parted. As the glorious minutes stretched, Ron found himself incapable of stopping himself as his eyes found her lips- so close and yet so fucking far…
All he'd have to do would tilt his head slightly and move barely an inch and he'd be able to taste her. But he had promised...
"You're okay?" he managed in the quietest of voices.
She inhaled sharply and pulled her hand away, scrambling to find balance, and he let go, regretting the loss. While Hermione pushed herself back to sit down next to him, he chewed on his lower lip consciously as he looked away, trying to ease his breathing as he scratched the back of his neck just to keep his hand busy.
Hermione, looking rather shaken herself, picked up the other vial and held it up against the light, and that's when Ron noticed the dark finger marks on her wrist.
"There is very little Bruisewort," she managed, her voice shaky.
"Give me," he stated firmly and took the small bottle from her hand and uncorked it. Without bothering to answer her questioning gaze, he grabbed her arm with one hand while he poured the contents of the vial on her wrist before smearing it around with his fingers.
"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice, watching as the bruising disappeared. He ran the pad of his thumb over the faint vein lines and fought back his guilt and fury. He hadn't hurt those bastards enough.
"Why?" she asked and he continued to look away, ashamed.
"I should've noticed sooner, Hermione," he replied, anguished.
She let out a soft sob and her fingers wrapped around his before she spoke. "I- I am okay," she replied in a strange voice, "You found me, saved me-," she paused and sniffed. "- as you've always done, Ron," she added quietly.
He looked up and she met his eyes. For once he didn't care that he had lost his mask, that Hermione could see him with all his vulnerability. "I'd have probably …" he heaved and stopped abruptly, looking away, fighting the nightmares.
….
There was something very broken about him. Hermione wondered how she had never noticed it before. Perhaps Ron had mastered the art of hiding his emotions a little too well or she had been too busy being angry to notice.
Something in the way he appeared just when she needed him triggered an array of memories. It was always the same with him, wasn't it? The way he guarded her, cared for her without a thought about his own safety- it was very reminiscent of the Hunt, the Malfoy Manor. Suddenly he had transformed back into her Ron. She choked back on a sob, noticing the bruise marks on his face and craved to wrap him in his arms. Ron appeared sleep-deprived and bone-tired; she could stay a little longer, couldn't she? Maybe just to ensure he got some much-deserved rest at the very least?
There were a hundred questions bubbling inside her, but she was afraid to voice them out loud. It was still not clear what had happened to him in the past to break up with her that way, but it was evident that the guy sitting in front of her tonight was the same one she had fallen in love with. She wanted to ask what had made him break her heart so ruthlessly- if it was all an act, but she feared his answer. The present was everything she had dreamt of and more- how did it matter why he had broken off? Was it very pathetic of her to be happy with the present and ignore all the pain he had caused? Would her heart be able to bear it if he admitted that he had indeed meant every word he had said that fateful night? Was she willing to risk this new beginning because of something that had happened between them seven years ago? Was she so desperate to have him back? Most importantly, was she willing to care for this man who had caused her years worth of pain?
The answer was simple. Yes, she was.
While her head struggled to hold onto her grudges, her heart decided that she'd trade her pride in exchange for these moments with him. But she still couldn't stay just because she wanted to, could she?
Everything said and done, the engagement was still a facade. Giving him a small smile, she placed the objects back in the potion box, vanished the water bowl and got ready to leave. "I should probably get going," she said sadly.
"You could say down for dinner perhaps?" he interjected quickly before looking away and scratching the back of his neck in a clear display of nerves. It was hard to believe that this same fumbling, adorable guy had tackled three grown men with ease barely an hour ago. "I mean, we didn't get to eat, did we, and I am sure you have work but y'know-"
"I'd love to stay," she interrupted before she could stop herself. "-for dinner, I mean," she added hurriedly, blushing under his gaze. He beamed. She had forgotten how he made her feel with that stupid lopsided grin of his.
Ron stood up and extended his hand and she took it, feeling lighter and happier than she had in days. But then suddenly he looked between her and back towards the corridor that led to the kitchen and scratched the back of his head. "Erm… well I am not sure what I have at home though..." he mumbled, making her smile. "Kreacher does come and clean - I mean, I don't ask him to! He just does it, I swear!" he added quickly and she couldn't help but chuckle.
"Yes, he has gotten a little independent, hasn't he?"
"Yeah," he replied, looking happy. She quietly realised that it was the most lighthearted she had seen him since his return.
"Let's see what you have then? Maybe we can whip up something?" she suggested and strode ahead of him. They had barely reached the kitchen when a loud crack echoed, and Kreacher, looking old and wrinkly as ever, appeared carrying a bag. He bowed low to greet them and placed the bag on the table, struggling to reach it properly.
"Mistress sent these," he croaked as Ron helped him with it.
"There we go," he grinned at her as Kreacher bowed again and vanished.
….
Ron looked at the contents that were now spread out on the table and back at her, flabbergasted.
"Looks like Ginny wanted you to cook something very specific," she mused, looking amused.
"Yeah, Mum's recipe for cottage pie!" he agreed, opening the tiny box and finding a few sprigs of thyme and bay leaf. "She'd have to be barmy to think I'll cook this for myself. I knew she was bonkers when she fell for that dork."
Hermione burst out laughing. "Let's start then. This will take us a while, won't it?" she asked finally, beaming up at him, making him feel utterly and insanely happy.
Blimey, he had sorely missed her laugh...
"Around a couple of hours I guess," he replied, hoping that he wasn't stretching his luck too far. Surely she wouldn't stay back so late… "Or maybe we can just have instant noodles, if y'know…" he added quietly.
Hermione paused, bit her lip, and Ron swore quietly to himself. "I am actually free. I planned on spending the evening with Ginny and Harry anyway so…"
He knew Hermione was never free. She'd surely have piles of scrolls waiting for her, research for her cases, reading up old case files and then some more reading for 'fun'. It could only mean that she was choosing to stay longer.
"But you must have work," she added haltingly.
He nodded. "I do have some paperwork to finish but you know how I feel about that."
She chuckled and looked around. "Where do we start then?"
He pointed at the meat. "Umm, let's see, fry the mince, while at the same time, put these on the boil-" he indicated the two large potatoes. "What?" he asked as she looked at him in surprise. "Mum always said that gets work done faster."
"Okay then," she agreed and turned around and paused again. "Where are the knives and all?"
He helped her find the cutlery drawer and showed her around the kitchen. It was crazy how he had bought this fully furnished place, hoping to turn it into a home- their home. However, he had also come pretty close to throwing everything away, burdened by hopelessness. And somehow, purely out of luck, she was here, fretting around the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans while scolding him playfully.
As she got to frying the beef mince, he busied himself with the vegetables. He was finely chopping the carrots when she returned to watch him work, her back resting against the counter.
"I didn't know you were so good with a knife," she observed. A faint longing in her words told him she was thinking of the lost years, years where they could have grown, lived and loved together.
"I had some practice," he replied softly.
She gave a small nod and looked around. "This place looks so modern and Muggle-friendly," she observed. "Didn't realise you were so comfortable with electronic appliances."
"They are quite handy when you know how to use them," he agreed, not taking his eyes off the onions he was chopping up.
"When did you learn all this?"
He halted midway, set aside his knife and sniffed a little before giving her his full attention. "During my Auror training. I had to learn to live as a Muggle if need be."
She looked very taken aback. "You did?"
"Yeah. Sometimes we have to live with them if the situation calls for it. Remember how Kingsley had to guard the Muggle Prime Minister once?"
"Oh,"
The pan sizzled and she went back to stir the meat before she returned. "Was it the training that taught you to fight that way?" she asked, not meeting his eyes, her voice holding a lot of sadness.
"Yeah," he admitted watching her till she relented and met his gaze. "I was trained by a Muggle military officer."
"For your mission?" she gasped, sucked in a breath and looked away as if she hadn't intended to bring up the topic
"Yes…" He silently begged for her to continue asking him for he couldn't tell her if she didn't.
"What else did he teach you?"
He sighed. Scooping the chopped veggies on a plate he set that aside, washed and wiped his hands on a towel and stood next to her, watching the balcony ahead but not actually seeing it. He had hoped to tell her all in detail after all. "I learned to patch myself up without magic and live like a muggle. Learned to survive even under extreme conditions, survive on little ration. I learned to fight the muggle way, both with and without guns," he replied, trying his best to sound very casual. A part of him wanted to tell her everything tonight but another wanted to hold back that admission for another day. The evening had turned into something akin to a dream and he was worried how his final admission would affect this budding rel- whatever this was between them now.
She seemed to shudder a little at his words.
"I also leant to speak and read German and French," he added lightly.
She looked impressed at the last information but did not comment. As Hermione went back to check on the meat and potatoes, Ron realised that his flat had never felt this warm before. He went ahead and took the ladle out of her hand, budging into her space playfully. "I offered dinner, so it's only fair that I should do most of the cooking."
She chuckled but didn't object. "What should I do in that case?" she asked.
He strained the potatoes, keeping them aside to cool while putting up another pan to fry the veggies.
"You can work on the mash once it cools. For now, maybe pour us some wine?" he suggested, indicating vaguely to his left.
He regretted it immediately as she pulled open a cabinet and gasped softly. It was only once she had fetched them both their drinks she spoke.
"Why do you have so many Firewhiskey bottles stocked? Do you drink a lot?"
I need it to forget about you… "I- er- do sometimes after a stressful day," he lied.
"Does it help?"
He didn't dare look up, fearful she'd see the truth in his eyes. "No."
"Shouldn't you do something that'll actually help?"
"I- er- yeah, maybe," he shrugged a little, trying his best to appear as casual as he could. "But nothing really does." He hadn't realised he had voiced the last bit aloud. He tried to make it up with a smile but he was worried it appeared rather sad.
"Ginny said you were on a mission this week. Can you tell me about it or is it confidential?"
"It is confidential but I can tell you about it."
"Isn't that a breach?" she chuckled softly.
"When have I ever cared for the rules?"
She rolled her eyes, the smile never leaving her face. "So, where were you?" It felt as if there was something more she wanted to add but refrained.
"We have a werewolf gang that's wreaking havoc in Banagher Glen," he provided before telling her what had transpired in the past five days and how they had managed to capture most of the gang. They worked well together, he reckoned as Hermione handed him everything he needed, while she listened to him. Once he finished setting the dish to bake, they pulled out chairs for themselves and Ron refilled their drinks.
"So you are going back tomorrow?" she asked, looking rather worried.
"Will have to," he nodded, grim. "We have to get the lot of them before the full moon."
"You will have a backup, won't you?" she asked again. He noticed, her glass was still full.
"I'll go first and set up a more compact parameter. The team will follow soon." He could have lied but he didn't want to.
"Why do you have to go alone?! Who plans these things anyway?!" she spat angrily.
"Harry and I do- well, this was my call. I can't risk losing any of the guys."
"And what about you?" she asked in a strange voice.
"I-"
"You really like risking your life, don't you?" she interrupted. There was a lot of hurt in her words that she didn't bother to hide this time.
"It's-"
"You don't realise how it is for m-" she looked away angrily and took a few deep gulps of air. "You don't realise how much Harry and everyone else at home worries about you," she added bitterly, looking intently at her glass. "Don't even care perhaps."
He took a few minutes to soak that in. "Should I take a team with me tomorrow?" he asked finally. "Will that-" he licked his lips, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, "-will it help Harry and the others worry less?"
"I guess he will be worried sick until you get back safe anyway but yes, that will make him feel a little better..." she replied, not meeting his gaze.
"A'right then," he smiled, watching her till she relented and met his eyes. They held a lot of melancholy but she smiled a little and picked up her glass.
"How's Jane?" he inquired.
"Better," she told him. "The meds are working but she still needs a lot of care."
He nodded in acknowledgement.
"Dad wanted us to visit them tomorrow," she added quietly. "But I guess, you won't be able to make it."
"Don't think I can," he agreed. "But tell him I'll see them once I return."
Hermione seemed on the verge of saying something but held back.
"I-" He gulped, building up his courage. "What if we meet them together once I get back from Banagher?" he asked consciously.
She smiled and bit her lower lip, looking away. "I'm sure they'd love that," she replied quietly.
"They will?" he chuckled.
"Mmm-hmm."
….
Ron didn't quite remember the last time when he had enjoyed a meal so much. But the evening had come to a close far too soon. Hermione had even stayed back till they cleared the dishes. He watched as she vanished the empty Firewhiskey bottles and cleaned up his dining table. Ever since his return, he had chased case after case in the hope of finding an escape, some peace. It was funny how a mundane domestic evening with her helped wash away all the exhaustion much better than many bottles of Firewhiskey ever did.
As they returned to the living room, Hermione getting ready to leave, once again it seemed as if she was holding back from asking something. Resisting the urge to touch her, he kept his hands deep inside his pockets. "I'll adjust the wards," he told her, desperately wishing that she'd stay a little longer. A few hours couldn't make up for the years worth of craving. "You'll be able to Apparate straight in."
The only time he really loved how tall he was when she looked up and met his eyes that way, or when she tiptoed and wrapped her arms around his neck and he picked her up as they kissed. It took him all the strength he possessed to stop himself when she inched closer and met his gaze.
She placed a hand tenderly on his cheek, scrutinizing the bruises. "Try not to get hurt?" she pleaded.
Overwhelmed, he only managed to nod in reply
"When will you leave?" she asked quietly.
"At six in the morning," he replied, feeling rather intoxicated by her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. He knew he wouldn't be able to let her leave if he did.
"Will you let me know once you get back?" she pleaded in a small voice.
"That's the first thing I'll do."
"You promise?"
"Yes."
"I'll keep the wards open for you," she added.
He ached to hold her, kiss her, but he knew he couldn't break the promise he had made. She removed her hand and took a step back. Hermione stood still for a moment and he could see she was making up her mind for something, and then suddenly, she was next to him, tiptoeing again as she placed a small kiss on his cheek. Ron was sure he had forgotten how to breathe.
She blushed and looked away quickly. "Night, Ron," she added before turning on the spot and Disapparating.
a/n: I hope this makes up a little for all the angst... Thank you all so much for reading. Your reviews make me very happy, please keep them coming :)
