A/N: HAPPY EASTER! I decided that it was probably a bit mean to leave you with a cliff hanger for too long and as a Easter present to you all, here's the next chapter! It might a few more weeks until you hear from me again, I need to get more chapters complete, (I have up to 8 finished and edited) but depending on how fast I get the chapters done, I might update weekly! Please remember the warnings: THIS IS STORY ABOUT SELF HARM AND DEPRESSION, I know it seems stupid reminding you, especially if you have read from the beginning but I want to be careful. Thank you so much for reviews, they mean so much and make me rather happy, please keep them coming! I hope you all had some lovely chocolate and enjoy!
Love xAx

DISCLAIMER: IF I OWNED HARRY POTTER I'M SURE HE WOULD HAVE BROUGHT ME SOME HONEY DUKES FINEST CHOCOLATE-BUT HE DIDN'T!
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She found him laying on his bed, back to her. Hermione took her time to focus on the room; it was messy, although that wasn't anything new, the only light provided was from the window. All the posters that used to hang on the walls were torn, and lying abandoned on the floor. Many of the pictures frames had been smashed, the walls had dent marks in, clearly from being punched. She took a deep breathe before stepping over the clothes that rested over the floor and took a seat on his bed.

He appeared to be sleeping, a talent he become an expert at, especially when it meant convincing Hermione. Ron preyed that she hadn't heard the noise from the other side of the door, he had been casting silencing charms ever since his isolation, and although he was aware they were becoming weaker as his magical power diminished, he still hoped they held somewhat.

He felt her lay down beside him, he had removed their make shift bed the day Hermione went to Australia; they had only really made it for her anyway. He knew she would wait for him to awake-just as he was about turn over and pretend to wake up, his mind and body dragged him into the darkness once more.

Ron jerked awake, the image of Fred exploding in blood imprinted onto the inside of his eyelids. He hadn't realised that a pair of arms had wrapped themselves round him until he heard Hermione's soft whispers of comfort. She clearly had stayed up waiting for him to be pulled from his deep, restless sleep, she had dark circles under her eyes, which were bloodshot, and her face was pale, frowning with worry. Ron almost felt the small amount of fullness at her presence. Almost.

He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, he had forced her away from her parents, her home, in order to look after him, when he knew there was nothing to look after, and he didn't deserve it, she was too good for him. He felt her lay him down before administering a potion, he didn't care what it was, it could have been poison and he would have still drunk it. He fought off the tiredness overtaking him, wanting to stay awake, he had become so accustom to watching the moon at night. But he wasn't strong enough fight the closing of his eyelids.

He could feel the potion wearing off, his eyes were becoming lighter but Ron didn't bother to open them. He could feel Hermione's stare on his back, probably noticing how thin he had become, how pale his skin looked and how his red eyes screamed that he hadn't had a proper nights sleep in a long while. He could no longer take her stares, he knew he had to look at her at some point, mentally wincing, at both the aching pain of his leg and what may happen he opened his eyes and turned, where he was greeted by an unexpected kiss, closely followed by a sharp slap on the arm.

Ron knew very well that his family were waiting on tender hooks to see what result Hermione's return would bring, he therefore had to plan his game very carefully; he would normally start an argument, informing Hermione he was capable of looking after himself, but he and Hermione both knew that information was incorrect, and in hindsight Hermione would win the fight. Now that she was here, Ron was very aware that he wouldn't have the peace of spending everyday locked in his room. He was also aware that they hadn't spoken a word to each other; he vaguely wondered whether his voice actually worked any more.

He was so lost in thoughts that he hadn't realised that Hermione had moved off the bed and was searching through the clothes spilled out on the floor before throwing a bundle of clothes at him.

"Come on, get dressed, and we can have some breakfast and go for a walk." Not feeling the strength to argue he slowly began to get up from the bed, as he moved a satisfied Hermione went to wait outside while he changed. Ron took his time, trying to gather any courage he might have in him, he soon gave up and attempted to come up with he could tell her, without giving himself away. Hermione returned to the room just as he was correcting the jumper he had placed over his head.

Ron followed her down the stairs, dreading the faces that may be staring at him from the kitchen table, however when he got there the only people still eating the last of their breakfast were Harry and Ginny, who he figured Hermione had forewarned, along with his mother, who placed a piled plate in front of him, that he would be present. He felt so many emotions at once, he could feel the blood pumping in his veins, pulsating through the arm of his jumper, begging to be cut, he wanted nothing more to run up to his room and lock it three times over, he couldn't stand the stare his mother was giving him, filled with utter sadness with a glimpse of hope. But he also found that he wanted Harry and Ginny to look him, instead of deliberately diverting their gazes. The smell of the food made his stomach larch; he knew it would be impossible to eat five mouthfuls, let alone half of it like he was suspecting they wanted. He picked through it, occasionally eating a mouthful. When all present at the table were satisfied that he had eaten enough, Ron and Hermione ventured into the wild garden.

They made their way to the large oak tree, sitting at the base. Ron had decided he wasn't going to strike up any conversation, he personally enjoyed the silence, but we wondered how long it would be before Hermione couldn't take it. Soon enough she took a deep breath and spoke:

"It's nice to be back, home just isn't the same."

Ron merely grunted quietly, neither ignoring nor answering her. He was pleased she was here, he truly was, but already the company of anyone for this amount of time was suffocating. She looked him, Ron could feel her penetrating stare pierce through his skin, and he could almost hear her brain churning, as if she was trying to think of things to say. Ron knew he was being unfair, hell this was the treatment he would use on himself, not Hermione, she didn't deserve it. He too took a deep breathe.

"How are your parents? Were they angry?" he wasn't surprised to hear that his voice was cracked and quiet, he also found it hurt slightly to talk.

"They're fine. Well at least their memories are, as for the angry part, when I left the house they were discussing whether I should be locked away from the Wizarding World, and now they are probably ripping up my room trying to find clues of my whereabouts."

Again, he didn't verbally acknowledge that he had heard her, but nodded slightly. In truth Ron didn't know how to answer her statement, they both had discussed and guessed correctly what her parents would do when they recovered their old memories the day Hermione arrived at The Burrow, almost a year ago. Ron desperately wanted to keep the topic of conversation on her, in order to avoid the questions he knew Hermione was bursting to ask.

"So what did you think of Australia? Did you do much site seeing?"

She went into one of her long speeches about the history and culture of both Muggle and Wizard Australia, while Ron occasionally showed his apparent interest by using "Really?" and "that's amazing" when really he found staring at the beautiful scene before him, knowing he didn't deserve to be seeing it.

Ron knew very well that Hermione knew he wasn't listening to her, but it wasn't unknown for him to switch off during on of her long lectures. She stopped talking eventually, lapsing into a quiet neither knew, it was like the calm before the storm. Ron could tell she was building up to the subject he wanted to avoid.

"How you been? Harry said you've spent most of the time I was away in your room." She was twisting her fingers together, staring at them while she spoke. Ron's body froze; he had nothing to say to excuse his odd behaviour. He was very aware that she was waiting for him to answer, to say anything, not to do so was practically admitting to his crime.

"I suppose everything was starting to catch up on me, I mainly slept to be honest." It was a shit attempt, they both knew it. Hermione looked at him disbelieving, before confirming what he was thinking.

"Come on, we both know that's a lie." Her voice was almost hard, but softened her voice as she continued:

"We all know you were out of it before, even when you were spending time with Harry, Ginny and I in the tree house. Ron, you can talk to me, it's what I am here for."

"I know, but there's nothing to talk about. I'm fine." He silently thanked their practice for improvising out of situations.

"You are not fine Ron!" her tone was back to being harsh, tinted with slight hurt. "Spending weeks in your room, hidden away from your family, not eating isn't fine, you're even thinner than when I left you, and you look like you haven't slept in years. You are not fine, so stop lying to me." He immediately felt a pang of guilt so strong he felt nauseous. He wanted to wipe the tears that were running down her beautiful face, but resisted, worried that her tears would burn him as punishment that it was his entire fault.

"I'm sorry, really I am." He was determined not to argue, but knew that whatever he said could be the wrong thing, in truth he didn't really know why he was apologising.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you in Australia, that I wasn't around, I just needed to sort my head out."

"Its okay, I didn't expect to drag you from your family across the world." She took a pause, maybe questioning whether she should ask her next question;

"So how did you sort your head out? If I can say, whatever it is, it's not working, and you seemed pretty out of it when I arrived yesterday."

He didn't where his reply came from, but it seamed to be the most obvious one in the world.

"I relented and started to have meetings with Mrs Steed. She told me that I would most likely to get worse before I got better, especially when things are changing. As for being out of it, well even Mrs Steed cant work miracles, then again he is employed by the Ministry, she's going to be shit at her job- I haven't really slept since you went, last night was the first I slept all night in weeks."

She seemed to take his bait, for she nodded and half smiled. He knew he had to return to his old tricks; masking what was really going on his head with a chilled, joke able Ron. He couldn't get caught, it was too close last night, and he just hoped he could be as devious as he used to be.