Helium is a colorless, odorless, tasteless, non-toxic, inert, monatomic gas that heads the noble gas group in the periodic table. Its boiling and melting points are the lowest among the elements, and it exists only as a gas except in extreme conditions.


2. Helium

28 May 1998

Their Muggle hotel room was too dark. He'd never stayed in a place like this before, and when he'd woken to use the loo, after she'd fallen asleep, he'd forgotten where she'd said the switch was, to turn on the electric lights. As he maneuvered back toward the bed, hands feeling blindly out ahead of him for obstacles, he heard her moan in her sleep. Unable to see her, he froze at the sound, blinking in the vague direction of the bed. He should have taken his wand, from the bedside table, but he'd been too confident he'd be able to find the lights.

He hardly breathed as he stood there, unmoving. Honestly, the noise from Hermione had startled him, and not because he was concerned for her... though he supposed he should be, if her dreams were disturbing her. No, he had felt a jolt of elation, after days of near silence and apathy. He had never seen her like that before, and it scared him more than her tears. Though he'd likely have been shocked at himself a year ago, he could handle her tears now. He knew how to be there for her because it was simply that- being there. But silence, blankness... he hadn't known how to respond.

Over the past forty-eight hours, he'd begun to contemplate resorting to methods that could be considered quite mad, a few of which he had actually attempted. He'd deliberately scattered his clothes around the room, watching with disappointment as she silently picked up after him, later in the evening. He'd peppered a conversation with increasingly crude jokes, hoping she would at least narrow her eyes or say something vaguely sarcastic. And, just before she'd gone to bed, he'd tried blatantly shutting the book she was right in the middle of reading, hoping to start an actual row. He winced at that last one now, feeling guilty in retrospect. She'd had absolutely no response, however, other than to stare down at her own lap before turning away to lie on her side and close her eyes.

Now, shuffling again across the pitch dark room toward the bed, he wondered if he had been misguided, if she could have since been thinking how much of a prat he had been to her. But it wasn't as if he hadn't tried the opposite line of tactical moves prior to his more desperate attempts. He'd tried to talk to her about her parents, tried reassuring her that they would be fine. But not being able to bloody locate them was quickly putting a damper on that particularly thin promise...

He didn't know what else to do, and to be honest, he was nearly on the verge of actually crying about it.

He crawled into bed next to her, eyes adjusted enough now that he could make out her outline, in front of him, her back toward him. He stared at the shape of her hair, unruly curls casting lighter and darker patterns against the pillowcase. He followed them with his tired eyes, not really feeling the pull back to sleep, despite exhaustion.

He knew what she was thinking. Knowing what she had done, she was terrified of all possible outcomes that didn't feel entirely too perfect to be realistic. If she couldn't fix them back, she would either be forced to go to Ministry authorities for help, thus revealing her use of illegal magic in the first place, or be presented with the knowledge that she had personally altered her own parents, for good. If she could fix them, she would be faced with their inevitable questions, hurt at her betrayal of their trust, and confusion over the glaring gaps in their knowledge of the wizarding world.

Of course there was no way she could feel happy about any of it. He hadn't expected her to be carefree or joyful, even to see her smile again until this chapter was over. But he longed for emotion, anything now that could show him she was there, inside, and not lost in thoughts and fears she couldn't share with him.

More than anything, he just wanted her to be alright. Angry, afraid, anxious... Fine. But alive.

He sniffed, and he suddenly noticed how quiet it had become. Her usual deep breathing had been replaced with eerie silence, and before he could be rational about it, a small bubble of panic leapt from his chest to his throat.

"Hermione-" he whispered, but he was saved the necessity of further words when she shifted, proving she was still breathing.

He clamped his mouth shut, feeling oddly nervous.

He swallowed hard and stared at her again, willing himself not to blink too often, fearing he would lose his paper thin grasp on self control.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, and he flinched, startled by the sound of her voice.

He needed so desperately to get this right. What should he say? How could he get her to keep talking? He knew he was taking too long to reply, but he had no other choice. Maybe, if the right words sprang miraculously to mind, she might even-

His heart stopped as she turned over to face him, eyes faintly glowing in the dark.

He couldn't speak... He simply went on staring. Only now, he could look right back into her gorgeous eyes. It might have occurred to him how this was clearly the longest he had ever spent openly gazing at her, if he hadn't been so preoccupied.

Eventually, with a sad sort of crease developing between her eyes, her lids slipped shut again. He sucked in a protesting breath at her leaving him alone. And he suddenly could not take one more second of it.

Not one.

"Hermione," he said, roughly, sitting up, "wake up!"

He grasped her left arm and gently, but purposefully, rolled her onto her back. Her eyes popped open, and she stared up at him, shocked.

A heart pounding moment passed between them before she moved as if to turn to her opposite side again, away from him. But there was no way in hell-

"Oi!"

He suddenly climbed on top of her, straddling her and holding her flat on her back, his hands clamped around her shoulders.

"Ron!" she cried. "Get off-"

"Hang on!" he shouted over her. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm a gigantic wanker for this, but bloody hell, you are going to talk to me before I have a mental breakdown!"

She breathed heavily as her eyes darted, wide open and dumbfounded.

"Listen!" he pressed on, vaguely aware that hot tears had leaked from his eyes and were rolling down his cheeks pathetically. "You are bloody amazing. You're brilliant and perfect and you have a mad temper and you love things intensely and hate them sometimes just as much. But right now, you're not showing me if you're angry or overwhelmed or- or anything else! And if it's me, I'll leave. If you can't stand me right now or think I've been too big of a prat to you, it's probably because I've been trying for days to think of clever ways to snap you out of whatever this is. I may not be inside your head, but I can usually guess. I know you well enough now for that, I think. Only this time... I have no fucking clue what's going on!"

Her lips parted as his tears dripped down to splatter the front of her shirt. Her eyes softened and her muscles relaxed underneath him.

"Just... please," he continued, in a much smaller voice, "say anything... and bloody mean it!"

Her face scrunched up a bit, and he was instantly full of regret as she shut her eyes and began to shake with silent sobs. The phrase 'worst idea ever' came to mind...

He couldn't even bring himself to curse. He closed his eyes for a second before releasing his hold on her, lifting his hands from her shoulders, and-

Her hands shot out to grab his thighs, in an insufficient attempt to hold him on top of her. But though her strength alone couldn't have stopped him moving, the fact that she had made her desires clear to him had done it just fine.

He gawked at her as she gripped his pyjamas in her fists.

"Don't leave," she whispered, tears coating her face now.

He shook his head slowly, lightly dropping his hands to her arms again. He found himself utterly speechless, uncertain if the result he'd received now was anything close to positive... or somehow more detrimental than her silence had been...

"I can't d-do this without you!"

"Bollocks," he sniffed. "Of course you can."

"Don't say that!"

She sat up so quickly that he flinched involuntarily. But he froze again as his eyes met hers, now inches from his own. Her hot breath puffed against his lips, her hands had slipped further up his legs, and her knuckles were digging into the elastic at his hipbones.

Shivering, he moved his hands to her neck, so gently he might as well have not been touching her at all. His thumbs moved across her jaw, and her nails dug painfully into the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pyjamas.

"I was expecting you to hit me or something," he said softly. "Didn't really want to make you cry..."

"You didn't stop to think I'd be bloody upset by you leaving?!" she demanded, shrilly.

"I'm not leaving!" he protested. "I really thought you might want rid of me since I'm clearly not contributing anything useful if you can't even shout at me to make yourself feel better!"

"Why would that make me feel better?!"

He pushed his thumbs across her cheeks, drying them a bit in the process. Even in the dark, he could see how red her face was.

"Isn't it working?" he countered, nearly distracted completely off course for a second by her fingers curling into his pyjama elastic... "Tell me this isn't better than what we were doing before!"

"I didn't feel anything before, Ron! I was so distracted trying to do everything right! I was making it easier! I c-can't fall apart when they need me!"

He pulled her head forward, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. His heart was beating way too fast now.

"I'm not just here to help you with spellwork," he said, lowering his voice. He pulled his head back again, opened his eyes, and dropped his hands to her shoulders. "In fact," he added, "I reckon I'd be just as helpful without my bloody wand."

"Ron-"

"No, listen. You're worried you'll be too upset to do a proper job fixing them when we find them, yeah? Then why can't you use me for yourself? When you're angry or frustrated or scared... just let it out on me, instead of holding it in."

Her eyes widened, and she was looking at him with such admiration.

She slid her hands unconsciously up inside his shirt, along his sides...

"I don't want to hurt you…" she said in a tiny voice. "You've had far too much on you as it is..."

"Trust me," he sighed, "it's way worse the other way. At least if you're angry I can understand it. Got no idea if you hate me if I don't think you'll tell me about it..."

Her lips twitched.

"Really," he added. "I can take it."

"Ron," she whispered, hands slipping a tad higher up inside his shirt... "you're the best thing in my life, you know. I really, really don't want to ruin it."

His ears burned at her unexpected compliment.

"Best- blimey... You sure you're talking to the right person?"

"Stop."

He grinned at her then, from relief at getting a reaction from her at all tonight and also to make sure she knew he was joking.

"Can't ruin anything," he muttered, lifting his hands to her face again and angling his head to kiss her. She made a strangled sort of sound as her arms encircled him, still inside his shirt, flattening her palms to his back.

He couldn't explain the bliss he felt at kissing her, and being kissed back with such enthusiasm. Selfishly, he couldn't help it. But he'd also have gladly given this up if it meant comforting her in everything else, instead...

Not that he wasn't thrilled he wouldn't have to...

When their lips parted again, it was as if in slow motion, lingering so close they were sharing the same air.

"Can't feel my legs..." she finally whispered.

"Oh, shit..." he half-laughed, letting her go and climbing off of her. She smiled up at him and reached for his hand, tugging him down to lie beside her.

"Your fault if I'm a wreck now around you..." she mumbled as he happily gathered her up against the front of his body, tangling their legs and brushing her hair back from her face. "Also, don't think you're off the hook for literally holding me down against my will..."

"That sounds awful..."

"It should!"

"Had to snap you out of it!" he reasoned, and she gave him the tiniest smile of infinite reassurance. "Blimey, I actually can't believe that worked. If it hadn't, I think my only option left would have been to try and make you row with me by just taking all your books away and-"

"I can still hit you, you know..."