A/N: I'm sorry that I'm so slow. I will improve. In the meantime, Happy New Year!
Chapter 26 - Healing
About a week had passed since what had happened. Ron still winced in anguish, frustration and sorrow when he thought about that night. Hermione, according to Fleur, was recovering, although Ron was struggling to remain as positive. She should be in St. Mungos. Merlin knows how many times or how intensely she had been put under the cruciatus, but Bill deemed that it would be too dangerous.
Ron tried his best not to argue with his brother, knowing that that would only cause more problems and no one needed that right now. But it was driving him insane. Yes, it would be dangerous, but surely leaving Hermione in this state was far worse? He had to be grateful, he supposed, as Fleur had relented and allowed Ron to stay beside Hermione's bed each night. She needed a lot of rest in order to heal properly, and the times that she was awake, she was frail and disoriented. Fleur had taken brilliant care of her, Ron had to admit. She had acted as a personal carer for the week; washing, clothing, even feeding Hermione. All Ron felt that he did was essentially sit there, but even in the short time that Hermione was awake, she had asked that he stay there for her.
A week rolled into ten days, and progressively, Hermione was recovering.
Hermione opened her eyes hazily as the sunlight streamed in. It took her a moment to gather her senses before she became more aware of everything. Turning her body, she flinched at the pain that she still hadn't gotten used to when waking up. But, today she had to open her eyes experimentally, for the same, intense pain and aches didn't seem as prominent. Tentatively, she moved parts of her body in order to experiment what parts were still hurting. Her left arm was particularly sore, but she knew all too well why that was the case. Hermione grimaced as she recalled the purely horrendous wound, of many, that she had obtained during…
She swallowed solemnly. Truthfully, the events were still hard to digest. The last week and a bit had been blurry and difficult. In fact, the only way Hermione knew it had been that long was because Fleur had given her updates when she visited. Hermione hated how unclear her whole life had been for these last few days, she couldn't stand the fragility of her own mind. As she lay down, blinking slowly, adjusting to her state, Hermione reflected on where she was, what had happened, and where she could go from here.
It was hard to distinct one day from the other, no matter how hard she worked to wrack her brain. She exhaled a shaky breath as she recalled the insurmountable pain she had been in. Everything that came after was a string of events, nothing too defined or prominent. Fleur. She could remember Fleur and everything she was doing for Hermione. She could remember Shell Cottage, and that she couldn't even be sure if Harry was here anymore, if it wasn't for Fleur's updates. She could remember the nightmares, much clearer than actual reality, funnily enough. They were horrible, and she noted that she'd commend Harry for the rest of his life after suffering with that for so long. Vivid images of her and her cackling and her wand being pointed at Hermione blazed through her mind as if it were happening again and again and again. Finally, she could remember Ron. Once again, the memories of him weren't perfect or anything, but she could just remember him. His presence, his arms, his voice, everything.
Tentatively rolling over, Hermione nearly jumped at the fact someone was beside her bed, until she identified the roommate as Ron. She sighed happily and then looked at the bedside; were all of those potions really for her? Surely not. Yes, she was in unfathomable pain, but she couldn't remember taking any of these potions. Even if her memory was broken, she could surely remember that, right?
Ron awoke with a start to find Hermione struggling to sit up in bed. "Do you need any help?" he asked quickly, jumping off of the chair to assist her.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just strange being able to...move, I guess," she admitted with a small chuckle that Ron didn't return. "How long have you been in that chair?"
Ron raised his eyebrows at her in perplexity before seeming to realise something. "Oh, Fleur warned that one of the side effects of all the potions would be memory loss."
"Memory loss?" Hermione repeated.
"Yeah.." Ron trailed off, looking for the right words. "Can you remember anything?"
Hermione sprained her brain for any coherent recollection that she could describe properly, Oh, she hated this; not being able to have any record of her life, at such an important time.
She looked at Ron with a soft expression, which Ron returned with a rather curious one.
Ron felt utterly guilty as he watched Hermione try to rack her mind for the memories. He was such an idiot! Why had he asked her if she could remember anything, of course she could! That sort of torturing doesn't just slip the mind, it would be burned in her memory for the rest of her life. And the thought sickened Ron. It should've been him, and he still firmly believed it.
"Look, Hermione…I-I, I'm so, so sorry about what happened to you-no, that isn't enough. I wish it was me, it should've been me, not you! I hated it, hearing your screams. Watching you when we got back, I… it should have been me. I'm so, so, terribly sorry that it wasn't me. I'm just… sorry," Ron weakly confessed, his eyes glassy with tears.
All Hermione could do was shake her head in disbelief and disagreement. "Ron, what are you talking about? You couldn't have done anything, and you did try, as much as I just wanted to tell you to shut up and let me get on with it, you wouldn't!"
"But, Hermione, you were-you were-"
"I know, I know what happened." Hermione moved to sit on her knees and took Ron's hands. "I remember it; everything-" she looked away from Ron. "-I remember the pain, I remember my own screams, but I also remember you, Ron." She looked back at him. "I remember your screams, I remember you wailing out my name, if I wasn't so… preoccupied, then I would've cried at the emotion conveyed in those shouts. You kept me going, Ron," she said sincerely.
Ron looked at her eyes, something he hadn't done since she began speaking. "I'm so, so sorry that it happened to you, Hermione."
Hermione sighed before moving to hug him, holding on as tightly as she could.
"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered to her, feeling like he had just uttered the biggest understatement of the year.
Hermione felt her own tears sting her eyes. She nestled her face into his shoulder, focusing on the most comforting sound in the world: Ron's breathing. As she closed her eyes, more started to come back to her.
"Where's Harry and the others? Are they okay?" Hermione lifted her head off of Ron's shoulders, but her arms stayed wrapped around his neck.
A sullen look crossed Ron's face and fear flowed through Hermione. Something was obviously not okay.
"Everyone's fine, well, nearly everyone." Ron looked to the window. Despite her eagerness to know what was going on this instant, she let Ron speak. "While we were down in this sort of dungeon-thing at the Manor, Dobby somehow got in and saved us. He took Dean, Luna and Ollivander here, and then came back. He was the one who set the chandelier on Bellatrix, but it failed. We all disapparated away, and Harry tried to grab Dobby in time, but Bellatrix threw a knife, and.."
Hermione gasped, the threatening tears now spilling over the threshold. No, this couldn't be true; not another soul taken by this cruel world. Not another, pure, innocent soul.
"D-Dobby? He, he's dead?" she whispered.
Ron nodded, tears began to stream freely down Hermione's face.
Ron knew that Hermione would be utterly devastated by the news. They all were; Dobby was a good bloke, he had put others before himself, especially when it came to Harry and his friends. But Ron knew it would hit Hermione particularly hard after how much she cared about the wellbeing of house elves. Admittedly, Ron couldn't see the fuss at first, which he was fairly open about, much to Hermione's great disdain. But after helping Harry bury Dobby; a truly pure-hearted little thing, who died protecting his friends, Ron became a lot more concerned for the matter. Not that he'd be rushing to tell Hermione that, though, just 'cause he cared about the odd creatures, Ron wasn't particularly interested in running around, knitting woolly socks for them, which he was more than certain would happen if he shared his change of heart with Hermione.
Ron gently wiped the tears from Hermione's face. "Can I go get you anything?"
Hermione took the hand that was wiping her face and pressed her cheek against it. She shook her head; all she wanted was for Ron to sit there with her, as she took everything in. But now that she thought about it, here wasn't the exact place she wanted to be. As grateful as she was to be sat in a bed, a real bed, she hated the sad atmosphere of the room. It was a beautiful day, and that's how she wanted to remember Dobby. Outside, on a beautiful day, the weather mimicking his soul. It had been so long since she could even recall fresh air.
"Could we maybe go outside?"
Ron contemplated her question. "Are you sure? Don't you need some more rest?"
Hermione shook her head. "I've had enough rest. Maybe this wasn't true, but she just wanted to go out, go out and breathe some fresh air.
Ron considered it; he knew he would probably get a telling off from Fleur if he let Hermione leave her bed. But for one, Hermione wasn't some frail animal that they couldn't let see the light, and for two, he knew there was no way that he would be able to tell Hermione 'no' if she was really set on something. Plus, he could see the appeal. It was all getting a bit too much, and just sitting in the grass under the sun for a tranquil moment was one of the best remedies during times like these.
"Okay, but if I get a bollocking off Fleur, I'm blaming you," Ron teased, standing up excitedly.
"How chivalrous," Hermione mocked, getting out of bed.
Her grin from their cheeky exchange morphed into a gasp, however, as she walked over to the mirror sitting in the corner. She almost didn't recognise herself; marks, cuts, bruises and all sorts of injuries were displayed everywhere, they looked as if they were healing, but she could only imagine how awful they looked at first. Another lump formed in her throat. Hermione, although never having too much confidence, wasn't terribly insecure growing up, as she just didn't prioritise fuss over things like appearances too much. But now, as she stared, horrified, at her sickly complexion and broken body, she felt uglier than ever.
Ron noticed her gasp, and walked over quickly. Hermione was looking at herself in the mirror, and Ron knew she would have a shock. She was tortured, for Merlin's sake, there were going to be scars. But Ron knew it would be hard for her to reveal, it would be hard for anyone. It was just another piece of evidence that made the whole thing seem so real.
Hermione could see Ron walking over in the reflection. She didn't want him to see her like this, which was frustratingly a bit pointless now, because he would've undoubtedly seen her at her worst. She knew that neither of them were that shallow to care about looks too deeply, but she could barely look at herself! Let alone want Ron to look at her. She closed her eyes, in an attempt to hide herself, from herself.
Ron noticed this, however. People may not believe it, but he could read Hermione quite well, and he was only getting better at it.
Hermione gasped as she felt Ron's strong arms incase her from behind, taking her small hands in his large ones. She opened her eyes, he was looking at her in the mirror, his head touching her shoulder.
"You are beautiful, Hermione," Ron whispered.
Hermione felt tears sting her eyes, she turned around so she could hug him again. Her sadness at her own appearance was beginning to become overridden by the love she had for him. She hadn't even told him what was wrong, but it was like he telepathically understood.
Ron hugged her back, stroking her hair. He absolutely adored Hermione, had done since they were in their third year. So, even the thought of her thinking for a split moment that she was anything other than bloody beautiful twisted Ron's stomach.
She loved him. And she wished she could just tell him. But they were still in the war, time moved on. Yes, she was knocked down. But she was better now, and Hermione knew they had to keep moving. Harry and the others popped into her head. She hadn't even seen them since their arrival at Shell Cottage, not that she had seen anyone really, though.
But being in Ron's arms made her feel so...whole. No, Hermione. You need to get a grip. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the hug.
"We should talk to the others. And I need to find out more about this sword," she stated, looking around for her beaded bag.
Ron was confused, how did she go from being so vulnerable and quiet to being so bossy and decisive? He didn't know, but it still made him smile.
"What about going outside?"
"Ron, we made the promise to each other that we would help Harry, a walk outside can wait," Hermione replied, searching through her bag for some clean clothes.
"But I thought you wante-"
"I know what I wanted, and I would still love to do that but I need to talk to Harry first. I haven't seen him or anyone since-" she cut herself off, not really wanting to bring up the situation again.
Ron didn't need her to finish her sentence, he understood the pain of saying it out loud. It did sting a little that Hermione was so keen to go speak to Harry, but he pushed that thought away. Besides, it wasn't his usual jealousy this time. It was the fact that she needed to look after herself, and put the war on hold for a minute. But in true Hermione fashion, she wasn't having any of that.
Instead of arguing any further, he just nodded and walked over to the door in order to give her some privacy, but was stopped by the warm touch of her small hand.
He turned around and wondered how many times his heart would ache when he looked at her, knowing all of the pain she had suffered not a few days ago.
"Thank you," Hermione said in a small voice.
Ron wasn't quite sure what he was being thanked for, but he still pulled her into a hug. Once again, Hermione found herself only wanting to be in Ron's arms for the rest of her life. But alas, that couldn't happen. Not just yet, anyway.
"I'll see you in a bit," Ron assured as he slowly broke the hug. Truthfully, he didn't want to leave her ever again. But he felt comforted by the fact that she was here, safe and somewhat okay. At least, physically somewhat okay; he could only dread what type of psychological pain she would be feeling right now.
Hermione nodded forlornly. She knew she must be driving him around the bend with all of her mind changes; one minute telling him that they should be getting on with things, and the next, silently protesting that he never left her company again. With a smile, Ron left with a gentle close of the door. Hermione felt immediately at a loss without him, already missing just his mere presence, let alone all of him.
With a sigh, Ron crashed to the sofa of the quaint living room. Goblins. Who'd have 'em? Obviously, Hermione could see why Griphook was acting so abrasively, but Ron just saw it as rude. Wizards in the past had stolen from goblins in the past. From basic deduction, Ron concluded that funnily enough, he, nor Harry, nor Hermione, had ever stolen from a goblin in their lives.
Then there was Ollivander, who looked terribly frail. It was a sad sight for Ron; he had known Ollivander since he was only little, having gone to his shop to watch a few of his brothers choose their wands. Even though Ron always found him a bit odd, you couldn't deny the fact he was a talented wizard. But seeing him there, in another spare bedroom, barely looking alive hurt Ron. He only wished that the old wizard would survive this war, and continue to blow young wizards away in Diagon Alley.
Hermione seemed to be getting better, at least that was apparent during the day. In the nights, however, she was still having nightmares. Ron could tell it was getting on her nerves, more than anything, but he didn't understand why she was so hard on herself. She was tortured, for Merlin's sake! No one's going to assume any less of her for that reason.
"Are you okay, Ron?" Luna, who had also been saved from Malfoy Manor, walked into the living room.
"Uh, yeah. Are you?" He asked politely. He still felt a pang of guilt every time he spoke to Luna, but Harry said it would be best not to tell her, in case she thought less of her father. Serves him right, Ron initially thought, but then he remembered that he, too, had done something stupid because of the war and felt that he was no better than Xenophillius Lovegood, himself.
"I'm quite alright. It is lovely here," Ron admired Luna's airy voice. As if she was ignorant to the mad times they were going through. Then again, that was quite 'Luna' of her, so he expected nothing less. Maybe he should take the same approach with Hermione while they were here.
"I'm sorry, Luna. But do you know where Hermione is? Has she gone to her room?"
"Oh, I'm not very sure." Luna replied, as she picked up one of Fleur's magazines and started examining it - Ron wasn't sure she would actually be reading it.
"Oh, okay. Well thanks anyway, Luna." Ron stood up and went to leave.
"Fair well, Ron." He nodded at her, although she was still immersed in the magazine in her lap.
Ron walked upstairs rather quickly, but began to walk more tentatively and cautiously as he grew nearer to Hermione's door. Things were fine between them, but Ron knew she wasn't telling him the truth about how she was really feeling half the time. He tried to ignore the hurt of her not trusting him; it was nothing to do with him, it was her own experience and Ron could never, ever fathom the pain she must've endured. But, she shouldn't have to go through this alone, and Ron wished he could make her feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it.
After knocking twice received no response, Ron became worried. He tried to think rationally instead of jumping to frightening conclusions. She's probably just asleep, he told himself. But it wasn't like her to take naps, she found them a waste of time. And it was only six, she wouldn't go to bed without at least coming to dinner. Ron knew these were rather controlling thoughts; Hermione was her own person, not his pet that he was left in charge of. But after Malfoy Manor, how could his mind not travel to the worst? He had no idea what she truly experienced. No one would have any idea. He just wanted to make sure she was okay and safe. Always.
Sod it, he thought and slowly opened the door. "Hermione? You in here?" Ron forced a casual voice, he knew she would hate it if she knew how concerned he really was.
No response. And after quickly scanning the small room, Ron established she wasn't in there. He sighed at himself; there he was, creating a thousand different scenarios in his head about all of the things that might be wrong, and Hermione wasn't even in there.
He walked over to the window. For a small room, the window was large and offered a beautiful view of the sea. Ron rested his hands against the window sill, taking a moment to appreciate the landscape. Then, he spotted her. Hermione was strolling along the beach, her arms folded; it did look windy and possibly cold. Ron smiled, deciding that he'd leave her there. At least she was safe.
It was about seven o'clock when Fleur walked into the living room, calling everyone for dinner. Ron glanced up at the clock, Hermione still hadn't returned. He had kept an eye on her from his seat on the sofa. The sky was starting to become duskier, it was only April, and the sun was supposed to set soon.
"Ron, will you go and get Hermione, please?" Fleur asked. Ron was about to anyway, but just nodded with a smile before making his way through the hall. Forgetting a coat, he walked out to the beach. Hermione was now sitting on a large rock.
"Bit chilly out here, ey?"
Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron's voice. She had just popped out for, what was planned as, a fifteen minute walk. But judging by the lack of light in the sky, she had been out a lot longer. But she enjoyed the tranquility of listening to the waves. Even though she couldn't be more grateful for Bill, Fleur, and Shell Cottage, being in the house caused her to almost feel scared. The days were short, terribly short. Hermione would spend time with Ron and the others and mostly forget what had happened to her not too many days ago. Even devising further plans was fun for Hermione. But then, the nights would come. And even though she knew she needed sleep and that it would, eventually, imprison her, Hermione wasn't looking forward to the action at all. There hadn't been a night where she didn't have a nightmare. She hated to think about; they were truly awful. The worst thing about having nightmares was that you were trapped in them, until you were woken up by someone else. Hermione hated that she was waking everyone else up. She had tried everything, the Dreamless Sleep potion wasn't strong enough, and they forbade her from using the Muffliato charm, in case she was in real danger.
Ron and Fleur had originally wanted Hermione to visit St Mungos about the lack of effect that the Dreamless Sleep potion would have on her, but it was far too risky. Ron. He was so supportive, Hermione couldn't thank him enough. She knew that probably wasn't apparent, she wouldn't share much with Ron, and was vague about everything. It just wasn't like her to depend on someone so much, which she knew was something she'd have to change if she ever wanted a future with Ron; which she definitely did. But also, she just hated talking about it. Reliving it every night was enough, but the days were her escape. And even though she hadn't explained that to Ron, he seemed to understand and never probed her about it.
Ron sat beside Hermione, leaving a little bit of a gap for her. He didn't want to make her feel that she had to say anything. They both sat in silence, watching the tide come in closer.
"It really is a wonderfu-"
"I'm sorry, Ron."
Ron turned to look at Hermione, his heart aching as he noticed her glassy eyes. He had tried to slice the tension with a remark about the view, but Hermione had other ideas.
"For what?" He asked, shifting closer, his eyes full of concern.
"Well, you've just been so brilliant these last few days, and I've just been vague and blunt. You don't deserve that, you're only trying to help. And I want to let you help, Ron, I really do, I just-" Hermione stopped her ramblings, looking back out to the sea.
Ron tentatively took her hand in both of his, squeezing it as he realised how it felt like ice. "You don't have to explain yourself, Hermione. Let alone apologise. Merlin knows what you went through, if you never want to speak about it again, I wouldn't blame you. But I just want you to know that if there ever came a time that you did want to, I will always be there to listen."
Hermione felt a firm lump form in her throat, she looked back at Ron, before leaning her head on his shoulder, using her free arm to wrap around his own. "Thank you. So much. I just.. I don't even know where I'd begin. There are times in the day where I feel completely unbothered by it, sometimes I even forget about it entirely. But the nights...are far worse. The nightmares, I-"
Ron squeezed her hand again, noting that this was harder for her than they probably both anticipated.
"It's like I do it all again, every single night. And I can't escape it. There's nothing I can do, every single time I fall asleep. It'll be there." She added, tears running down her face. "It terrifies me." The last part she whispered.
Ron pulled his arm away from Hermione's hold, only to encase her with it immediately after. He hugged her, pulling her tight to his body. Hermione felt her resolve completely shatter, tears rolling down her face effortlessly, as she nestled her face into Ron's chest. Ron stroked her hair, wishing that her pain could go away. No one deserved torturing, but Hermione definitely didn't.
He knew they needed to do something; she couldn't go on like this and it didn't sound as though anything was getting better for her. Once again, Ron found himself cursing his own helplessness. All he wanted to do was make her feel better, he would give anything.
"There you guys are! We were starting to get worrie- oh, sorry! Is everything okay?" Ron turned, trying to silently signal Bill away by shaking his head. And it was almost a success but Hermione was already distracted by Bill.
"I'm sorry, Bill. I just love this view." Hermione part-lied. Yes, she loved the view, but that didn't exactly explain why she was in Ron's embrace. She blushed, and turned quickly to look at the sea in case the eldest Weasley sibling saw her.
"It's okay." Bill chuckled, wishing he hadn't walked in on - whatever was going on - and causing the situation to be awkward. "Just wanted to let you know that dinner is ready."
"We'll be there now," Ron assured, wishing his brother (who he did love quite dearly) would just sod off for a moment, instead of making things worse.
Bill nodded, sensing that Ron was silently pleading that he left. He would find the situation rather funny, if he didn't know what Hermione had gone through, and that Ron seemed to be the only person she could talk to.
Ron waited until Bill was out of earshot. "Sorry about that. Are you okay?"
Hermione nodded, standing up off of the rock. "I'm fine. Let's go, I don't want to keep them all waiting."
Ron quickly jumped up to come beside her but his brows were furrowed. "But, Hermione, what abou-"
"Ron, it's fine. The world doesn't just stop because I had a silly five minutes-"
Ron grasped her hand, "it's not silly," he said firmly.
Hermione's expression softened, and she took his other hand. "Thank you for coming out here, Ron. I really wish I could just get over this." Her head hung low in self exasperation.
Ron lifted her chin with his finger so she would look at him again. "You're brilliant, Hermione. What happened doesn't change that - not for a second."
For the second time in a space of probably half an hour, Hermione wished she had never opened her mouth about pausing whatever was going on between them for the sake of the war. There was so much love in Ron's eyes that all she wanted to do was close the distance between them, in more ways than one.
"We should go back in. I really am looking forward to seeing how Fleur's baking turned out earlier!" Hermione began walking towards Shell Cottage, pulling Ron along with her.
Ron rolled his eyes, "it's mad, her cooking's so good that it even resembles Mum's sometimes, but her baking… there's probably a closer connection to Hagrid's kitchen skills."
Hermione laughed, and the sound of it made Ron feel as light as a feather. It had been so long since he heard that beautiful laugh, and he hoped that it wouldn't go away too soon.
Dinner was wonderful, in Hermione's opinion. There was a rather large group of them staying at Bill and Fleur's, and it was an odd assortment of people at best. But Hermione enjoyed that; she got to listen to many different stories, and everyone sat in awe while Luna was relaying hers. It was one of Hermione's favourite times of the day, everyone would forget about the war, even if just for that one evening meal. The food prepared by Fleur was, as always, amazing. She was really becoming a delightful cook, Hermione hoped it would give her and Mrs Weasley something to bond over.
Thinking about the other Weasleys worried Hermione. It was good now that they were with Bill, who was keeping in touch with his family, he gave almost daily reports on how they were doing in their hiding. But Hermione still missed them, and hoped they were really okay. The subject of the Weasleys, like so many other things Hermione would think about, led her back to Ron.
She glanced at him, who was sitting beside her. He was listening quite intently to one of Bill's stories of working in Gringotts. Hermione loved him. Even just watching him listen to someone else sent warmth through her body. It was what kept her going, he was what kept her going, and he was the best part of Hermione's day, every day.
But as the sky grew darker and darker, anxiety started to mound in Hermione, causing her hands to become slick with sweat. She had no problem being alone in her room, she grew up as an only child, after all, and was always quite independent. But being left with her own thoughts, her own trauma, was too much. It would taunt her, tear her down and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Well, I hope you all do not mind, but I am going up early tonight. All of that baking has exhausted me!" Fleur exclaimed from her seat at the table.
She had baked an apple tart, one of Ron's favourites. And even though it wasn't as brilliant as her cooking by any means, Ron appreciated the effort that went into it. As people murmured their responses and thanks to Fleur, the table started to clear; apparently Fleur's idea for an early night was quite popular. Fleur swished her wand and soon enough all of the cleaning was done.
"Game of wizarding chess before bed?" Dean asked Ron. Ron was watching Hermione, who was helping with the final bits of cleaning.
"Yeah… in a bit. Just need a shower, it's been a long day." Ron smiled up at Dean.
Dean didn't seem to think anything of how distracted Ron was, but instead nodded and headed into the living room with the others. All who was left in the kitchen were Hermione and Ron.
Hermione was the only person not so keen on an early night, but everyone else at the table did look positively shattered. She knew she would have to face her own mind at some point, she couldn't exactly escape sleep. But it was worrying to be afraid of one of the basic human functions.
"You okay?" Ron asked, nearly wincing at his own hopelessness.
Hermione turned to look at him, she was using a tea towel to dry a dish and kept her attention focused on it. Ron knew her too well, and if he saw her eyes then he'd instantly be able to tell she was lying, when she answered, "yes. I'm actually quite tired myself."
Ron sighed and walked over to her, carefully taking the cloth and dish away from her to place them on the counter. Hermione tentatively looked up at him, hoping that her own eyes wouldn't betray her.
But, they must have, because Ron wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Hermione sighed contentedly as she hugged him back, inhaling the beautiful scent that was Ron.
They stayed like that for a moment; it was as if Ron could read Hermione's mind, or at least sense her uneasiness. If it were up to her, she would live permanently in the arms of him, feeling safe, and...loved. Hermione knew it was a long shot, but no one cared for her as much as Ron. And she didn't want anyone else to.
Ron pulled back from her slightly so he could look at her face. Emotions that Ron wished he could demolish were swimming in her brown pools. He wished he could take her pain away, more than anything.
"Do you want me to come up for a bit?" He would've been startled by his own forwardness and the possibly-suggestive question, but he really had no other idea of how to make Hermione feel better. If Hermione was at all fazed by his question, she didn't show it. Instead, she just nodded in response.
Three particular words were on the very tip of Hermione's tongue and it pained her that she couldn't say them. But she wanted to; she had never seen Ron look so concerned for something, or someone, ever. He was once again invoking a feeling only he could in her, a feeling of being the only person that mattered.
Reluctantly, and albeit slowly, Hermione pulled away to finish with the dish she had been drying. With a swish of her wand, everything else was clear. She was somewhat excited to go to that spare room now, as she pushed the fact that Ron would leave at some point out of her mind.
Wordlessly, they both climbed the stairs and walked across the landing. "Reckon Fleur will go mad if she sees me up here," Ron whispered in another attempt to make her feel better.
Hermione chuckled. "She reminds me of your mother,"
"I wouldn't tell Bill that - or Fleur actually," Ron laughed as he walked into the spare room behind Hermione.
"Why? Your mother is wonderful, Ron!" Hermione admonished as she closed the door gently, slightly raising her voice as she was satisfied they couldn't be heard anymore.
Ron just smirked back, before rummaging through the cupboard of a small desk that sat in the corner of the dark room.
"Ron, what are you-"
"Wicked! They have Exploding Snap. I knew they'd have some sort of game up here!" Hermione smiled at the excitement in his voice. Feigning annoyance, she rolled her eyes.
"That game seems to follow me everywhere, like an annoying shadow."
"Oi, well me and my 'annoying shadow' might just go make our own party downstairs," Ron teased, hoping that that joke wasn't cutting it a bit too fine.
Hermione gasped in mock offense. Ron nearly sighed with relief. "Well, if that's what you really want.." she teased back, although the way she walked towards Ron felt considerably more heated, a good heat.
"You know I'd rather stay. Every time," Ron said seriously, the temperature of the room drastically rising.
Hermione walked closer to him, blushing at his words. She stood on her tippy-toes, encircling his neck with her arms. Boldly, she kissed him on the cheek, so dangerously close to his mouth that Ron groaned with impatience. Can this war just bloody hurry up please, his heart and other choice parts of his body begged.
"Well, are we going to play this game then?" Hermione smirked as she noted his frustration. Ron blew out a long breath. There was only one particular game he fancied playing right now.
"Yep," he answered in a strained casual voice. He wrapped his own arms around Hermione's waist and picked her up to take her to the bed.
Hermione squealed in surprise but couldn't say she didn't absolutely love being held by Ron. Sadly, he set her back to the floor as they reached the bed.
They sat on the bed and played Exploding Snap for what must've been hours, but to Hermione it felt like seconds. They laughed and teased each other, and both forgot that they were actually in the middle of a war. Hermione would never know how, but Ron could just completely dissolve all of her worries so very easily. For while he was there, at least. It must've been nearing midnight and the two of them were thinking the same thing, but neither of them wanted to say it, either.
Ron didn't want to leave her, he never did, but now he especially didn't, knowing what was causing her such distress. Hermione didn't want him to leave, not just because he soothed her of her worries, but because she only wanted to spend every second of her life with him. As ridiculous as it sounded.
Sighing, Ron leaned back against the wall, aimlessly shuffling the cards. Hermione offered him a weak smile before joining him at the wall. They sat awkwardly for a moment before Ron put his arm around her, and she shifted closer, wrapping both arms around him, one hand coming to rest on his chest.
"Thank you again, Ron. I had a lot of fun tonight," Hermione said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Really? Didn't think you'd ever say that after hours of Exploding Snap,"
"Well, believe it or not, it was more the 'spending time with you' bit, that I enjoyed so much."
Ron chuckled softly, holding her tighter. He, himself, couldn't quite see the appeal. But he didn't think that Hermione would appreciate being contradicted at the moment.
"So, do you think we're okay to go ahead with the Gringotts plan?" Ron asked uneasily, but not wanting to let Hermione's mind drift to her nightmares; he needed to distract her.
Hermione sighed. Was she ready to break into Gringotts bank, possibly the most well-protected building of the wizarding world? No. Was she ready to imposter the very witch that tortured her - whilst also illegally using her wand, and breaking into her vault? Absolutely not. But, did they have a choice? No. It had to be done.
"Okay's a bit of a stretch, but I don't think we have any other options, do you?" she asked, completely unrhetorically.
"Nah. Doesn't look like," Ron replied truthfully, he knew Hermione didn't like this idea. And he couldn't say he was too excited about it himself.
"At least we have Griphook," Hermione mused.
"That's the part I'm weary about," Ron grumbled. Hermione rolled her eyes; it was perfectly reasonable that Griphook would have his doubts about trusting the three of them, even if that would set them back a bit.
"I know," she sighed. "But as you said, it doesn't look like we have many other options, so we'll just have to trust him."
Ron still didn't like it, this was far too important a matter to go into, without being able to fully trust your accomplice. But he knew Hermione felt completely opposite, so it was best to hold his tongue.
Hermione knew that Ron was still apprehensive. He wasn't doing it to go against her, he was genuinely concerned. Which Hermione understood, admired even. But all she wanted was for them to win this war, and trusting Griphook was their biggest lead. She started drawing lazy circles on Ron's chest with her finger. All she wanted was for him to come out of the war; safe and okay.
Ron put down the cards and went to hug her with his other arm, revelling in the feeling of her small frame being held by his clumsy, large one. "I'm pretty shattered now, are you?" But as he looked down, he realised his question was answered for him.
Hermione was asleep, flat out. Her head was still on his shoulder, and her hand had only dropped down to rest at his waist; dangerously close to his southern region. Ron was toying with the idea of staying. Fleur would go absolutely nuts, but the thought of waking up Hermione, only to tell her that she had to somehow get back to sleep without anyone there for her, was enough to subside his worries about Fleur.
Ron felt his eyes droop. He truly was shattered himself, having not realised it as he was either spending his time and energy worrying for Hermione, or laughing with her over a card game. He wouldn't want to invest his energy in anything else.
Deciding that he would just get up and sneak back down before Fleur woke up, Ron gave into his overpowering exhaustion and eventually fell asleep.
Another sunny day of the end of April meant that the spare room of Shell Cottage was doused in sunlight. The brightening of the light caused Hermione to stir, eventually awakening.
She was rather disoriented at first, rubbing her eyes and stretching. Which is when she noticed that she wasn't alone. Hermione accidentally whacked Ron, who didn't look at all fazed as he carried on sleeping. Hermione smiled at his sleeping form; it definitely wasn't their intention to fall asleep whilst being sat up against a wall, but she couldn't say she felt rubbish about it.
In fact, she felt brilliant! Gathering her surroundings, Hermione realised that she hadn't had a single nightmare the whole night; the first time since being at Shell Cottage. Excitement filled her, there was a ray of hope. She could be over this.
With a new-found spring in her step, Hermione walked over to her beaded bag to acquire an outfit, excited to begin this day. She turned back to the sleeping Ron before she left the room, smiling widely at him even though she knew he couldn't see her. There was no doubt in her mind she had him to thank for her mind being so at ease last night that she remained undisturbed throughout her sleep. For the first time. In. Weeks.
Her smile didn't leave as she happily made her way into the bathroom for a shower. That smile faded, suddenly, as she met the girl in the mirror. Hermione was still adjusting to how the torturing was plainly expressed through her physical appearance, so much so that she almost didn't recognise herself.
But, she was determined not to let that get her down. She had just woken up from her first night of freedom! Rationally, a small part of Hermione knew that there was a very real possibility the nightmares could return, it had only been one night of somewhat peace. But, when you had lost control (and for Hermione, losing control was a huge anxiety trigger) over something so inescapable as sleep, and your mind, the second that you found hope you'd have to hold on it.
So, with that mindset, she hopped in the shower and began to plan her day of planning - which she was very much looking forward to.
Ron didn't know what he was more happy about, the fact Hermione had had a night of torment-free sleep, or how elated she was because of it. Either way, Ron was over the moon. Possibly the worst part of Hermione's recovery was how much he knew she saw herself as a burden, when in fact she was handling it stronger and better than anyone could ever be able to, without a doubt. He would never understand how she could be so utterly selfless to everyone around her, but somehow miss the memo herself.
So, to see her so relieved, about being able to just sleep without any more nightmares, any more reminders of her torture, filled Ron with glee.
It had been another strange-ish day, but with a happier atmosphere throughout the house. Everyone had heard the Hermione news, and were also pleased. Everyone could only imagine how hard it was, and if the gut-wrenching sound of her sickening screams were anything to go by, then everyone was just purely afraid of what Hermione had gone through, and what was still haunting her.
Evening came, and for once, Hermione didn't feel scared. Slightly apprehensive, of course - that annoying, logical part of her brain had only become more profound as the day bled into evening - but not scared. She did it once, she could do it again. Her tasks of triple-checking the plan to break into Gringotts as thoroughly as she could had been a successful distraction, so she hadn't really thought about it all day.
Until now, she admonished herself as she stared into the mirror, willing herself not to think about it. If she didn't think about it at day, her mind couldn't possibly care enough about it at night. Surely. Hopefully.
After brushing her teeth, prolongedly as always, Hermione looked at herself once more in the mirror, giving herself a 'you can do this' nod. She turned to leave the bathroom, nearly crashing into Ron in the hallway.
"Sorry!" he winced, holding Hermione up.
"It's okay, I've gotten used to your clumsiness by now." She smirked, Ron raised an eyebrow up at her with a grin, not expecting her quick remark.
"Oh, well then I guess you'll be prepared for this-" Ron pretended to drop her to the floor, but instead just dipped her. One arm holding her around the waist, and the other supporting her back. Hermione shrieked and giggled, Ron considered his ploy a success. But then her face grew serious as her eyes locked onto his. What he was not prepared for, was the suffocating proximity this move had brought him.
Hermione used their closeness as an excuse to stroke Ron's face, and just about whisper, "thank you."
Ron brought them back up to a stance. "For what? Pretending to let you fall?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
"Not quite." Hermione rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "For staying with me last night. We weren't, exactly, in the most comfortable of positions."
Ron shrugged. Truthfully, he would've stayed there forever if it meant being with, and helping, Hermione. "It's alright. If I do get terrible back pain, it's okay, 'cause I've got a brilliant masseuse, although she can get a little bit close." He teased, referring to their early morning together on his birthday.
Hermione blushed furiously. "Hey!" She swatted him, in disbelief that he had just said that.
"What? I didn't say it was a bad thing," he chuckled.
Hermione folded her arms in the snootiest expression she could possess. "That is no way to speak of your best friend, Ronald Weasley."
"Mm," Ron nodded in sarcastic agreement; they both were fully aware that whatever they had done would absolutely not qualify for being just friends. Not even best.
Turning more serious again, Ron said, albeit regretfully, "'should probably go, before Fleur turns me into a chair using transfiguration or something just so I'll stay in the living room."
Hermione smiled at his joke, and even though she knew he was right, she didn't really want him to leave.
"You gonna be okay?" Ron asked, another 'wanting to slap himself' moment.
Hermione nodded with a sigh, before standing on the tips of her toes to hug him. "Good night, Ron," she said softly.
"Good night," he replied, praying to any, every God out there that she'd be okay.
But. His prayers weren't answered.
Ron found himself launching up the stairs, his long legs going three at a time, before hurling himself into Hermione's room. Thank Merlin he had been the first person there.
He crashed down to the floor beside her bed, on his knees, holding Hermione straight away. Hermione similarly crashed into his shoulder, her arms around his neck as she sobbed and shook violently.
Stroking her back, softly repeating words of solace, hoping that a crowd hadn't formed in the small room. All things Ron had done before, and would do a million times over in a heartbeat, but tonight he had really hoped he wouldn't have needed to. Tonight he really hoped that her happiness and excitement hadn't been for nothing.
A few aching minutes had passed, Ron had heard the door close, and fortunately hadn't heard anything to suggest there were more people in here with them. Hermione's shaking had stopped, her breathing was becoming normal again, but Ron didn't let her go, instead he held her more tightly. He knew Hermione. He knew exactly what she was thinking of herself, and he wished he could relieve her of her own mind, but he knew that now wasn't the time.
Another few minutes had passed before Ron felt Hermione slowly release from his hold. He gently let her go.
"D'you want me to stay?" he whispered.
Hermione nodded silently, before shifting along the bed and closer to the wall. Ron got in beside her, immediately opening his arms as a gesture to her. Hermione obliged quickly, and Ron held her gently again, as she sobbed into his chest. He continued to stroke her back, even when he knew her breathing had grown steady, and he had established she was asleep.
Again.
It had happened, again.
She hadn't escaped anything, she hadn't overcome anything. She was just as weak, just as susceptible to her own mind's taunts. Just as helpless.
Hermione felt tears sting her eyes, for the fortieth time that day, as she found herself once again staring at the useless face that stared back in the bathroom mirror. What broke her out of her reverie was a knock at the door.
"Sorry, I'm just freshening up. I'll be out now." Her attempt at a composed, possibly even perky voice, failed miserably as she heard the shattering in her own ears.
More than thankfully, it was Ron who slowly opened the door. "Wanna go for that walk?"
Hermione, like she had found herself so many times, was immensely grateful for just Ron.
She nodded, walking toward him. He took her hand, offering her a weak smile before leading her downstairs and out through the backdoor, so no one had to see her, and bombard her with - what were lovely, caring, and kind words - just not what she needed right now.
They walked in silence for a while, although Ron was gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Hermione let Ron choose their path as he led them down a secluded area of the beach, although there were hardly ever any visitors to this specific, quiet beach, which was the intent of Bill's purchase.
"Do you mind if we have a sit down?" Ron asked, laying out the blanket that Hermione hadn't even noticed him carry. Wow, she really was losing it.
Hermione nodded, once again losing the strength to really speak. Ron, feigning the most gentlemanly stance he could in order to at least try and make her smile - if even for a moment, stood with one hand behind his back and the other stretched out to gesture her to sit.
"M'lady," he said with the most posh voice he could muster.
Hermione smiled at him, before pretending to perform a curtsy, and sitting down on the blanket.
Ron joined her, and they both sat watching the calm waves and listening to their tranquil movements. Honestly, he didn't know where to start. But he had to tell her, at least try to tell her, that she couldn't blame herself for this, which he undoubtedly knew she would do.
Clearing his throat, he turned slightly to face her. "Hermione-"
"I cannot believe I really thought it was over. I don't understand how I could be so delusional!" she exclaimed dejectedly, looking down to the blanket.
"Hermione, for one, you can't control what you have nightmares about. For two, you can't blame yourself for having hope," Ron countered earnestly.
Hermione shook her head. "I just feel so..useless. I mean, how am I meant to fight in a war against You-Know-Who, if I can't even win against my own mind?!" she cried, her voice wavering.
Ron sighed, leaning against the rocky wall of the cliff they had settled by. He gave it a moment before he spoke again.
"Hermione, I don't know what I can say to make you believe this, but I'm gonna try," he began, sitting up properly.
"I don't wanna talk about it, 'cause every time I even begin to think about what happened to you, it breaks my heart. I don't think I'll ever experience that sort of pain, ever in my life. There was a moment when I thought I would never speak to you again, would never see your smile, or even the face you make when I say something stupid-" he chuckled dryly before continuing, "-and I just remember thinking that there wouldn't be a chance in hell that I'd be able to go on without you."
Hermione turned at this, with a worried expression. But before she could protest, or say anything, Ron took her hand.
"And that was the most unexplainable pain I've ever felt. And that was just me, on the sidelines, just watching. And then I think of you, and the fact I'll never be able to know exactly what you went through, know exactly what that bitch did to you, know exactly what type of horror and pure torment that you've been left with, as if the event itself wasn't diabolical enough."
Ron paused a moment.
"What happened to you, Hermione, was unthinkable. So many people wouldn't get through it. But you did, you carried on, nearly as if nothing happened. You even managed to convince yourself that what you're going through is even an inch of your fault, that you should be disappointed in yourself for not being 'strong enough'," he chuckled incredulously again.
"What I'm trying to say, Hermione, is that you are strong. Unbelievably strong. In fact, so strong that you've even conjured up this idea that you're weak. And you might never believe me. But the one thing that you are not, Hermione Granger, is weak."
And with that, Ron finished. Hermione wasn't sure when tears had started steaming down her face, but she didn't care. She invited them, even. She wanted Ron to see how much emotion he invoked, she wanted him to know how she loved everything he said, how much she loved him, like she hadn't loved him before.
Ron, like the night before, offered a hug to her, which Hermione automatically accepted, and he leaned them back against the cliff.
"I really don't know how I became so lucky to meet you, Ron," Hermione said softly yet sternly, interlacing their fingers as Ron's other arm was wrapped around her.
"Guess we can thank Neville and his toad," Ron chuckled.
"Well then I owe Trevor a massive thank you." She looked up to Ron. "I don't really know how big of a thank you I can give you that'll ever even scratch the surface of enough."
Ron smiled, bringing their intertwined hands closer to him. "I'd really just like to say 'fuck it' to the 'staying friends' thing if I hadn't made such a promise to you. But I don't really plan on breaking any more of my promises to you."
Hermione sighed, leaning against his chest. "There's something I'd really like to tell you, but for that exact 'staying friends' reason, I can't."
"Really?" Ron said, unable to hide his grin. "I think I'd probably be telling you the same thing."
Hermione smiled happily against him, had they just confessed - without confessing? The prospect not only excited, elated and delighted her, but brought back her determination. They would get through this, because there was no way she was going to miss the chance to say the three special words, properly, to Ron.
They both sat and watched the sea again.
"I only feel safe with you, Ron," Hermione uttered in a small voice, which made Ron's heart constrict. In fact, he even felt his eyes sting with tears of love.
"Really? Even with all of my clumsiness?" he joked. Hermione rolled her eyes again.
"Yes, even with all of your clumsiness, believe it or not," Hermione joked back, before returning serious, and small again. "I really don't think I can spend another night here without you," she confessed.
"Guess we'll be sharing that tiny bed, then," Ron mused in feigned exasperation.
"Well, you don't have to take me up on the offer," Hermione challenged with a smirk.
"No, no, I'll be there. Just dunno if you'll be able to stand the heat of being so close to me, that's all."
Hermione rolled her eyes again. "You're not that irresistible," she lied with a giggle.
"You are," Ron said in a low voice, the combination of his words and tone, along with the fact he was gently tracing patterns along her back with his fingertips, set a low point of Hermione's stomach ablaze.
"But, seriously, Hermione, I'll always be there when you need me," he said promisingly.
Hermione shifted even closer to him. "I know, and that's why I want to tell you something that I really shouldn't."
"Join the club," Ron agreed, as they resumed watching the calming seas in a peaceful, companionable silence.