Hermione hasn't emerged from her room for hours.

Typically, this doesn't come as a surprise — once Hermione gets absorbed in something, she is blind to the world around her, including eating and social interaction — but this has reached alarming new levels.

It is four in the morning and Ron stands outside of her room, holding a mug of hot tea. Balancing the mug by the handle, he raises his other hand to knock. If he's honest, he's a little scared — even after years, Hermione still can unleash hell when she's interrupted, especially when she's in a flow.

"Come in." Hermione's voice is heavy, but deems it safe to enter and Ron pushes the door open, stopping short at the sight before him.

Pages and pages of white Muggle paper are strewn on the floor, and underneath it is a layer of parchment. Hermione herself is in a similar state; her hair bearing the effects of fingers running through it multiple times and her eyelids drooping dismally low. She stands up and promptly sways, gripping the chair for support. Ron quickly (but carefully, he doesn't fancy burning himself) sets down the tea in an empty patch of desk and wraps his arms around her waist, steadying her.

"You need to sleep," he murmurs into her ear, gently pushing her in the direction of the door.

"No." She resists him, but her movements are weak. "I switched to white paper because parchment was getting boring, and I think I've got something going —"

"Yes, but you haven't slept, you haven't eaten anything, and you're going to work yourself to death at this rate," Ron says, kissing the crown of her head. "You need to take care of yourself."

Hermione goes limp in his arms. "Yeah, I guess...I guess I do." Her voice is slurred. "Let me just...let me write down a few lines so I won't forget."

Ron releases her just long enough for her to do as requested, but as soon as she sets down her pen, he's there again, extending the mug. "Can you…?"

"My hands are shaking," she whispers. Ron raises the mug to her lips and tilts; she takes a small sip and sighs. The tea is slightly cooler than when he'd brought it in, so it doesn't burn her lips or tongue.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For taking care of me."

He doesn't respond, just urges her to take another sip. After half of the mug is finished, she feels well enough to walk to the bedroom.

And when she falls asleep, breathing deeply and the worry lines on her face relax, he tenderly brushes away the hair from her face and smiles.

"I'll always take care of you," he whispers.


460 words

Assignment 4, Alchemy Task 2 - Write a Author/Writer!AU

Auction - 23.1 - Hot Tea

Southern Cookout - Earthquake Cake - (restriction) only two characters

Back to School - Ron Weasley