ix: Survivors

Harry's body hangs limply from Hagrid's arms and Hermione's stomach sinks; they've lost. This is the end. But then Harry transforms, his jet black hair turning bright orange, and he's longer, lankier - it's Ron! Hermione sinks to her knees in despair; it can't be. Bleeding gashes appear on his body and then the scene changes - the dagger glistens in the light from the windows, scarlet blood oozing from the blade as it passes across Hermione's vision, and Bellatrix Lestrange is leaning over her, the dagger in her hand, and she's cackling evilly as the dagger draws nearer and nearer to Hermione's throat...

She woke up, like she always did, to find herself perfectly safe in Ron's arms, but that didn't stop her from shaking violently, trying to suppress the sobs that were threatening to take over her body.

Ron said nothing for a long time; he just held her, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead once or twice. His presence was comforting, and it brought Hermione back to reality. After a minute or so, Hermione's body finally adapted to her surroundings and she realised that she was safe, that the war was over, that she had nothing to worry about, and she managed to calm herself and return her breathing rate to normal. Her eyes adapted to the dark, and she looked up at Ron's face, seeing a saddened expression that she knew must mirror her own.

"I thought the nightmares had stopped," Ron said quietly, sighing heavily. Guilt washed over Hermione; he worried about her far too much.

"They have, mostly," she assured him. "They just come back every now and then. It's to be expected."

The war had affected different people in different ways, and for Hermione, the things that plagued her were the nightmares. In the couple of months after the war, she'd woken up every night screaming. Madam Pomfrey's potion had done nothing for her, and it had reached the point where nobody had been willing to let Hermione sleep in a room by herself. Now, two years after Voldemort's downfall, her sleep was far less disturbed - the nightmares would come once a month at the most. But each nightmare was just as distressing and horrifying as the first.

Hermione knew that some people envied her for moving on from the war so quickly, for leaving it in the past and being able to carry on with her life. Hermione was pragmatic, sensible - she hadn't spent hours going over different scenarios in her head, dwelling over how she could have saved people like some of the other survivors had. It was in the past; she couldn't change it now. But they didn't know that the images revisited Hermione in her dreams, flashing before her and forcing her to relive them. It was like she had to go through it all again every time.

She looked back to Ron, and his expression broke her heart. "You can't do anything," she told him gently.

"I know, and I hate it," he said, his hands clenching into fists. "I hate that I can't make it all go away, make it all better. I feel so... useless."

Ron had experienced problems of his own after the war - his grief over Fred, of course, and a lot of guilt from leaving them. Hermione had a hard time convincing him that she'd forgiven him, and he was far too hard on himself; that was all in the past now, and he'd more than made up for it in the final battle.

Hermione decided that this was one of these moments when actions spoke louder than words. She took his face in her hands, pulling it closer towards her, and she kissed him tenderly, savouring his response.

"I love you," she told him when they'd finally broken apart. "And you do make things better. Having you here... it helps. A lot."

Ron didn't quite look as though he believed her. "Really?" he asked, grinning.

"Really," Hermione said seriously. "You underestimate yourself, Ron Weasley."

He kept grinning for a moment, but then he sighed deeply and his previous melancholy expression returned. "It's just... the war's meant to be over. Everything's meant to be okay. But what happened... it stays with us, doesn't it? We can't just forget."

"No, we can't," Hermione agreed quietly. "But we've got our lives back now, haven't we? And we've got each other. We've got other things to focus on. We don't have to dwell on the war all the time."

"That's true," Ron said sadly, "but it's hard not to. So much changed because of it."

"I know, I know," Hermione said soothingly, and she didn't quite know when the tables had turned so that she was comforting Ron, but they apparently had, so she was going to do the best job she could of it. "But it's happened, and we can't change the past. We destroyed all the time-turners in the Department of Mysteries," she added as a poor attempt at humour, and Ron smiled weakly. "So... let's make the best of what we've got."

Ron didn't say anything, but he didn't need to; Hermione knew that he understood. She rested her head on his chest. She really didn't know what she'd do without him.

A/N: For "nightmare" on the OTP boot camp, and also for the One Hour Challenge (although I didn't quite do it in an hour, but it wasn't much longer, so please excuse any mistakes :P).