Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing of hers!

Chapter 30

Hours later, Ron awoke with a start, sitting up quickly while gasping for air. He looked around at his surroundings and grasped his wand tightly. As he frantically realized he was just in his flat, the same room he'd been sleeping in for a few months now, the redhead began to calm himself. He took deep breaths, feeling the dry, cracked nature of a throat that had been screaming. Thank Merlin he'd cast a silencing spell tonight. He attempted to swallow once more, hoping the knot in his stomach would lessen now that he knew it was just a horrid dream.

He laid back down, now a hell of a lot calmer than he had been, but the feeling wasn't completely gone. Tears ran silently down his face. Ron flopped back down on the bed, and at feeling the sheets stick to his bare back, he peeled himself back up. This time, placing his feet on the carpet below him and standing to pace into the kitchen.

He gulped down a second glass of water, hoping that would be the solution to the uneasiness rattling in his bones. Yet, as he stood, his palms leaning on the counter, he couldn't shake the feeling. He discarded the glass in place of a towel drenched with cool water. He wiped his face and trailed it down to his neck, instantly feeling the cooling sensation on his sticky skin. However, the feeling lingered on. Ron tightened his fists, attempting to stop the quivering in them. He turned toward the door which held Hermione and Rose. Taking a deep breath, he paced to the barrier, and cracked it open. As he did, he immediately felt a flood of relief.

He saw the same sight as a few hours earlier. Hermione was lying on her side, knees tucked in closely, while Rose laid facing her, snuggled into her breast. Rose was dozing away, and at first glance, Hermione looked to be as well. But, as his eyes trailed back from her form, to her face, he realized she was squinting toward him in the doorway.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered so silently he wasn't sure if she had actually spoken at all. He felt the need to leave, moving to do so, as she lifted her head slightly from the pillow, alerting him that he indeed had heard correctly. He stood watching her as he observed her entangled, wild curls.

She saw he was only wearing pajama bottoms, and he seemed to be glistening. His hair was askew, making her wonder if he'd just awoken. But, the reason she called out to him was because of the distraught and anxious look on his face. She didn't care anymore about their earlier row: the reason she had retired to bed so early.

"What's happened?" She whispered, more directly this time.

"I... I just needed..." Ron trailed off, not realizing how hoarse his voice was from his nightmare. A flash of understanding flew through her eyes. She stretched her left arm, which was curled around Rose, over her to the other side of the bed.

"Come over," she murmured, patting the duvet.

Ron hesitated for a moment, then closed the door and carefully climbed into the bed, placing his wand on the end table. He laid on his side, facing Hermione, still lying a fair distance from the two. Hermione hooked his wrist in her hand, tugging him closer. He followed Hermione's silent instructions, and pulled himself close to the pair. His head now rested on the same pillow Hermione was lying on, his chest pressed against Rose's back.

"What happened?" Hermione asked again, this time her voice was clear and direct while still being hushed, not to wake the sleeping child.

Ron looked at the witch he had been in love with for years. The soft moonlight was peeking through a crack in the curtains. She had changed into her nightclothes sometime during the night, and possibly had taken a shower. He could smell her intoxicating scent of fresh peaches from where he laid not too far a distance. Her curls were slightly damp, and cool, making the pillow feel the same. She was tucked into the covers, but Rose was clinging to her shirt. A lilac V-neck, which Rose was fisting, dragging it down it down lower than he thought Hermione might have known. Her breasts were pressed together, as she was lying on her side, causing a delightful view for Ron. He snapped his eyes back to her face instead of the milky skin exposed on her cleavage. If her eyes were huge before, they must be massive now. The pupils clearly dilated because of the darkness.

Not that Ron's body knew that. Ron could have sworn her eyes roamed over his bare chest. Her tongue darted from her mouth and swiped across her plump lips. Causing him to stifle a moan and scoot a centimeter closer.

'Why did I come in here in the first place?' Ron wondered, he closed his eyes and decided to follow his gut instinct and speak with the witch.

"I had a nightmare." Ron sighed, swallowing as the images of the dream flashed before his eyes. Hermione's eyes displayed her concern; her eyebrows creasing tenderly.

"Tell me about it." Hermione whispered, causing Ron to pry open his eyes to question the woman. She never asked him if he wanted to talk about it; she commanded him to.

"Hermione... I'm not sure that's a good-"

"Ron, we've been through a war together. I've seen death and torture and horrid things no one should ever have to live through. I've endured that pain and unthinkable things. Tell me, Ron." He saw her arm coil a bit tighter on Rose after her words, brushing his torso in the process.

Ron exhaled shakily, not wanting to relive the nightmare once more. He clenched his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, wondering just where to begin.

"I've had nightmares since the war, but they tapered off for a bit… mainly when I would drink." Ron shook his head slightly, eyes still closed, not wanting to see the disappointment he knew her face was covered in. "I drank constantly, and it would help, but… they started coming back full force about a year ago, and no amount of liquor helped." He swallowed and continued.

"They were so vivid, so real. It was like I was living the war all over again… When you came back, they stopped for a bit. I guess I was preoccupied and trying to sort my life out with all the changes... But, after the first mission I went on, they were back, just as before. It's when we started focusing in on a group of wizards preying on muggle and muggle-borns. They'd defile them… rape them… torture them… and eventually murder them with beatings or starve them to death." Ron spat, feeling the tears warm his closed eyes.

"We've been narrowing down on them, and unfortunately…witnessing their acts. Ron shook his head a bit harder this time. "One was only fourteen. Fourteen Hermione!"

He finally opened his eyes, feeling like a tosser for breaking down like this. Yet, he did feel it helping. He saw her face through a watery gaze. Did he see tears in her eyes as well? He looked down, gazing off while he continued.

"It's disgusting and vile. But, the worst part is the memories are starting to blend. In that bloody dream, you're the one who's kidnapped, tortured… raped, and killed. And I blow my cover trying to save you, yet I can't get to you. I just stand there screaming, clawing, doing whatever I can, but nothing works. I just listen to your screams while you're being defiled. It was like Malfoy Manner all over again, just more horrid…" Ron felt a tender hand slip into his own.

He took a shuttering breath, not realizing that his breathing picked up pace when he was speaking of his memories. Ron brought his gaze up to Hermione's eyes. Tear streaks stained her smooth skin. She intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed gently. He stared into her brown orbs, a mix of emotions displayed within. Just that gaze made him feel as though she cast a calming spell.

"I'm right here, Ron. I'm alright." She whispered, gripping his hand more fiercely. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Ron. I wish I could change so many things." She wiggled her arm from underneath her and wiped the tears spilling down his face.

"I have them too. Not often, but they still happen. Malfoy Manner, the horcrux, the battle… you being taken." She sniffled, and tilted her head up slightly. "But, none of that happened, love. We're here together." She bore into his eyes, hoping that confidence was shown through her tears.

"There are still muggles and muggle-borns out there being tarnished. There's still so much evil…" Ron croaked.

"And you're doing all you can to help stop them. You've been so incredibly brave dedicating your life to help them, Ron. You're doing all you can do." Hermione insisted.

"Well it's not bloody enough!" Ron grunted, raising his voice, causing the tot to jump in her sleep. Rose squirmed, instinctively pulling herself closer to her mum. Hermione scooted in closer, brushing her curls. She whispered reassuring words, and kissed the crown of her head. Having successfully calmed the snoozing child, she returned her gaze to Ron.

"It'll have to be enough." She whispered, knowing her words were not as comforting like she would like them to be. She could understand his conflicted state. He had always had a protective and guardian-like nature. So, of course he would feel as though he wasn't doing enough even though he was risking his life to save these people. But her mind had to wonder, why didn't he see Rose as enough. Why didn't he see her as enough?

Hermione shook away the thought, Ron loved them both fiercely. Didn't he?

He gave her no response. Instead, he looked down at the child lying between them. After some time, she detached her fingers from his. As she moved to pull away, Ron kept the grip on her delicate fingers. Their eyes met, Hermione questioning his.

"Is this alright?" Ron murmured, clasping her hand more snugly, while searching her eyes. She nodded.

They both laid there, eyes drifting from the child between them, and each other, eventually falling asleep.

Ron awoke early the next morning, unintentionally, and couldn't fall back asleep. He was still snuggled in the large bed, with Rose against his chest and Hermione on the other side of the tot. He watched the two sleep as he reviewed the last 24 hours. Ron watched the steady breaths of the pair as he suddenly remembered Hermione's attempts to speak with him.

She tried when he visited her in his office, and again when they were interrupted by Hartman. He glanced up at the witch's face, sleeping peacefully, and wondered what it was she needed to tell him. His stomach clenched thinking something was wrong. Hadn't he known by her behavior that something was causing her to be upset? He berated himself, knowing what a git he'd been. He was so consumed by his anger at McLaggen and his uneasiness at the situation with Charlie, he had ignored her feelings and taken out his anger on her.

He pushed himself on his elbow, looking over Hermione's untamed curls to the clock sitting on the end table, just behind her shoulder. It was just after six, so he decided it was about time he made up to Hermione. He took a final look at the beauty as she slept with their child curled in her arms.

Carefully slipping out of bed without waking the females sleeping inside, he made his way to the kitchen. He ruffled through the cupboard, then the icebox, thankful Hermione had gathered groceries recently. He pulled out a variety of items, allowing him to concoct a small breakfast feast. He checked the ticking clock once more. Deciding it was time to wake Rose, he cast a warming charm on the meal and set the dishes to start washing themselves.

He snuck back into Hermione's room, carefully detaching Rose from Hermione's nightclothes. He was pleasantly surprised when Hermione sighed and turned onto her back instead of waking. She was not habitually a heavy sleeper he knew that from school, and being on the hunt; the stress over the past few days must have knocked her out. Rose rubbed her eyes sleepily as Ron changed her into a clean nappy and out of her pajamas in the loo. Hermione must have changed her into the soft yellow baby grow suit during the night as well.

"Morning sweetheart. Ready for some breakfast?" Ron asked the tot softly. She yawned, stretching her arms high above her head. Her father smiled at the action, and found a barrette to clip her fiery curls out of her face. He bent down to place a kiss on her forehead. Rose nodded, and they quietly left a sleeping Hermione in the bedroom.

An hour later, Hermione exited the bedroom to find Ron sitting at the dining room table sipping a cup of steaming tea, and reading the newest edition of the Quibbler. He licked his finger and began to turn the page when he looked up to see Hermione, fully dressed, and ready for the day.

"Morning, Mione. Are you ready for some breakfast?" Ron asked in a chipper voice. He sat the Quibbler down, pacing toward the oven, to reveal the feast he'd prepared.

"Good morning." Hermione nodded, surprised at his high spirits. "Yes, please." Ron continued to remove the food from the oven and levitate it to the table. Hermione made her way over and sat in the chair next to the one Ron previously occupied. She noticed the high chair was empty, so she turned to the den, expecting to see her daughter playing cheerfully with her toys. Yet, the den remained tided, and empty.

"Where's Rose?" She inquired, as Ron sat at the table. He scooted in and began to pour her a boiling cup of tea.

"She's at mum's. I thought we could, erm… talk this morning." Ron answered, prepared to serve Hermione. He gestured toward the table as Hermione told him what she wanted. An awkward silence set about the pair as they ate their breakfast. When they were halfway through, Ron broke the silence.

"They interviewed Neville in the Quibbler." Hermione looked at him surprised, eyebrows raised, clearly interested in his attempt at breaking the silence.

"Really? Last I heard he was out to find the Albanian Shrivelfig." Ron nodded and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Well he found it, alright! Writing a bloody book of all the properties and uses. He's done on his expedition, and is coming back to England." Ron added, speaking with his mouth full. Hermione took a sip of her tea as she took a bite of bacon and chewed it politely.

"Wow! That's wonderful. We'll have to have him over when he returns." Ron nodded and they returned to silence. Hermione pushed around the eggs on her plate with her fork, as Ron watched her devotedly. He finished his tea and cleared his throat.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for my, er, temper recently." Ron's ears flushed red. Hermione looked up at him, he reached his hand back to rub his neck. Hermione was stunned. Of course she'd heard him apologize before, but it typically took him much longer, and a lot of hinting, before he did.

"You've been under a lot of stress... I understand-"

"No. It's not acceptable that I took all that out on you. I mean, you've been doing everything here, shopping, cleaning, caring for Rose, while I've been gone." He sighed and leaned forward on the table.

"I really am sorry. I'm working on it, I promise."

Hermione swallowed, feeling a bit teary-eyed.

"Thank you, Ron." She croaked, inhaling deeply to keep her composure. The ginger nodded a few times, and refilled his teacup.

"You had something you wanted to tell me in all of that…" Ron reminded the witch. Hermione bit her lip, setting her fork down definitively. She stood and walked to her bedroom, returning momentarily with a piece of folded parchment in her hand. She paced back to the chair, sat slowly, and slid the parchment over to Ron. He picked it up skeptically, a questioning look on his face.

He took a few moments to read through the letter, ending with a dazed expression. His eyes shot to Hermione. Tears were already streaming down her face.

"My dad has cancer." She whispered brokenly, admitting the truth she'd been trying to confront over the past several days.

"Oh, Hermione." Ron whispered, reaching for her hand, which she let him grasp and squeeze.

"He's not even that old, I mean, he has just turned 54." Hermione sobbed, as Ron stood to hold her to him, which she was immensely thankful for. She melted into his embrace, as she wept.

A while later, her sobs turned into sniffles, and eventually to slight hiccups. Instead of pulling back, she just kept her head laid on Ron's solid chest.

"This is why Charlie didn't want you to be left alone?" Ron wondered aloud, feeling her head shift, nodding on his torso.

"He was here when I received the owl." Hermione explained. Ron could have kicked himself. Charlie was just being a supportive brother, trying to help his brother's girlfriend with her grief while he couldn't be there. A few moments of silence passed while Ron thought.

"What does stage four mean?" Ron questioned, feeling Hermione shutter in his embrace. He heard a rather large sniff from the witch below him.

"It means the cancer has spread from the original location to a further spot, other areas in the body. It's an advanced stage, and it has a less chance of cure and a greater chance of de…" Hermione broke off, stifling another wail. He squeezed the witch tighter to him, and breathed deeply, thinking over what he should say.

"You know what this means you need to do, don't you?" Ron asked.

Hermione mumbled a no, and Ron pulled her arms back to look her in the eye.

"You're going to them in Australia."

A/N: There are your two chapters this weekend... at least in my time zone! I appreciate all the feedback I received from the last update. Y'all sure know how to motivate! Please leave me a review, I would appreciate it very much!