Taking the time to talk to Hermione had lifted the weight of the nightmares from Ron's shoulders and by the time he'd gotten back to the flat, his mind was empty; helping him to drift off to a dreamless sleep. He found over the week that the nightmares started to taper off, lulling him into a false sense of security.

The weekend came around yet again and Ron joined his siblings and their friends in a game of pick-up Quidditch. This had started to become a routine for them during Ginny's off season. They justified it as keeping her skills up to date ready for the next season, but really it was just an excuse for them all to get together and mess around on their brooms. The games were never too taxing; Ginny always chose Ron for Keeper which meant the Quaffle barely made it to his end of the pitch. He had been idly flying between the three goalposts when all of a sudden, a rogue bludger had hit him square on the head.

Nobody was too concerned; he hadn't lost consciousness and he hadn't fallen from his broom but they'd taken him to Molly for a check-up just in case. She'd given him a clean bill of healthy and sent him back to his flat with a pile of home-baked cakes.

That night, Ron had found himself back in the Thought Room. Once again, he summoned the brains and they attacked as soon as they made contact but before they were able to finish their job they disappeared and Ron found himself transported to the Death Chamber. The crumbling ancient archway still stood in the middle of the room and he felt drawn to the fluttering veil. As he neared it he heard voices calling to him and the longer he listened; the more they started to sound like the people he loved. Harry, his parents, his siblings, Hermione. He tried calling to them, desperate for them to know that he was there but he knew they'd never be able to get to him. He tried to join them, but unlike when Sirius slipped through the archway, the veil this time kept pushing him away.

When he awoke, he was drenched in sweat and gasping once again for breath. He cursed, but was careful not to wake Lavender, who was still snoring softly next to him.

Head pounding, Ron grabbed his phone; dialling Hermione's number as he pulled on a pair of shorts.

Hermione was startled out of her sleep with a groan, reaching automatically for the phone. She listened as Ron gave his warning that he was on his way over then sighed as he hung up, rubbing at her eyes wearily.

She must have drifted back off to sleep as she was suddenly woken again by a knock on her bedroom door. If she were less than half asleep then maybe she would have been able to remind herself that her doors had been locked before she'd gone to bed and her wards were practically unbreakable. But given her current state, she pulled her bedsheet up to her chin, her heart pounding.

"H… hello?"

"'Mione, it's me…" Ron tried the door handle, frowning as he found it locked.

Hermione forced herself to wake up, suddenly very aware that she had only been sleeping in her knickers due to the summer heat. Frantically, she slid out of bed and grabbed the first piece of clothing from the top of her wash basket. She pulled it over her head before moving to the bedroom door, opening it slowly.

"Hey… sorry…" Hermione ran her hand through her hair sleepily.

Ron's eyes almost bulged out of his head as she pulled the door open further. It was a sight he had seen almost a hundred times before, but he could never get enough of it. He had always thought she looked the most appealing when she had just woken up, her head of curls always a mess and evidence of sleep still on her face. It was a stark contrast from the prim and proper appearance she always upheld in public. Slowly, he cast his eyes down her body. She was wearing one of his old favourite Chudley Canon tops which barely skimmed the top of her thighs. It had already been going threadbare when he'd reluctantly handed it over to her and he felt himself grow immediately hard as he remembered how quickly he had pulled it off her the first time she had tried it on. He looked away suddenly, trying to compose himself.

"I'm so sorry…" He paced away from the bedroom door. "This is unfair, I keep on waking you up…"

Hermione frowned at his reaction and glanced down at what she had thrown on, immediately kicking herself inwardly. How could she have been so careless? He was probably already freaking out that she even still had his top, knowing that she still wore it had probably pushed him over the edge. Hermione had never been one to throw something away until it had become completely useless and it was only to hand because she had been wearing it earlier while she did some decorating.

Ron had already started back down the stairs and she tried her best to pull the top down as she followed him.

"Ron, wait… did you have another nightmare?" She watched him stop at the bottom of the stairs. He had his back to her, but she could see the shudder travel over his body. "You did, didn't you?" She lingered at the top of the stairs. "Why don't you go put the kettle on, I'll just get changed and then I'll join you…"

When Hermione finally joined him, Ron was relieved to see she had dressed in some proper pyjamas and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. She clattered around the kitchen, making them both a mug of tea before leaning against the counter.

"Talk to me…"

Ron told her about the nightmare; about the voices behind the curtain and she yet again let out another shudder as she heard the pain and confusion in his voice. She listened carefully until he finally stopped talking.

"God Ron, that sounds so awful…" She put her mug down and held out her arms for him, smiling as he moved to her easily. "Being in that Death Chamber was horrendous; watching Sirius just fall through that curtain and there being nothing any of us could do…" Her breath caught in her throat. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen, or ever will again…"

Ron nodded his agreement against her shoulder. "I just wish they'd bloody stop, Hermione…"

She pulled away from the hug and led him through to the living room, bringing their mugs of tea with her. She waited for him to get settled on the sofa then sat down next to him. "You've not mentioned them all week…"

"Well they stopped! Then bloody George fired a stupid bludger at my head…" He rubbed at the sore spot on his head.

"Were you playing Quidditch?" Hermione looked confused.

"Yeah we play a pick-up game every Saturday unless there's something else on. Helps Ginny, plus most of us missing playing…"

"Sounds like fun…" Hermione tried her best to ignore the small pang of jealousy she felt.

"Yeah, you should come along next week. You can keep score or something…"

"I would, but there's a small matter of Harry & Ginny's stag and hen parties…" Hermione grinned. "You going to spill the beans on the stag yet?"

"You going to tell me about the hen?!" Ron raised his eyebrows at her, grinning as Hermione refused. "Well there we go then…" He turned back to his tea with a smile on his face, already looking a lot less pale and upset than when he'd turned up. There was something so familiar and comforting about Hermione, even when they were just having a normal chat. Despite the late time, they yet again fell into a natural conversation that lasted until the early hours of the morning.

Ron woke the next morning, disturbed from his sleep by a loud protest from Crookshanks; annoyed his breakfast wasn't at it's usual spot at it's usual time. The cat was sat on the coffee table, watching him with judging eyes and it took Ron a moment to realise he was still sat on Hermione's sofa. He started to make a move, but there was a heavy weight pressed against his side and as he turned his head towards it; he noticed Hermione fast asleep with her head against his shoulder. Ron still had one arm curled around her and he couldn't resist pulling her tighter to him. A curl had escaped her bun and he pushed it out of her face so that he could watch her sleep better. This had been one of his favourite pastimes while they were together, although he would never tell her this if she asked. She always looked so peaceful, even though she usually muttered in her sleep. She was probably plotting her next move to radically change the Ministry of Magic or leading a rebellion against house-elf slavery.

Another loud complain from Crookshanks brought Ron to his senses and suddenly, he remember he shouldn't be on Hermione's sofa; he should be in his bed, in his flat, next to his girlfriend. Hermione started to stir, so Ron withdrew his arm, his heart pounding.

"Hermione, I need to go…" He glanced at the clock on her mantlepiece. If he moved quick enough, he should be able to get back before Lavender woke up.

"What? Where am I?" Hermione eventually started to open her eyes, looking confused.

"We're still on the sofa. We must have fallen asleep last night. Lavender is going to kill me…"

Hermione shifted away from him, rubbing her sore neck and Ron immediately felt like he had lost something in her doing so.

"Wait…" Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "You didn't tell her you were coming here, did you?"

"Are you bloody mad? She'd lock me in my flat or kill me… or maybe both!"

Hermione crossed her arms, looking annoyed with him. "Ron…"

"I know!" He sighed. "Thank you for having me over last night, I must have needed it. I had the best night's sleep…" He leaned over to press a kiss against her cheek without even thinking about it. "See you later…" Ron gave her a nervous look.

"Hopefully…" She pulled a face. "Good luck!"