Chapter 4: Tea and a Serious Lack of Crumpets

Ron is okay, Ron is okay, Ron is okay.

The frantic and slightly not-true mantra had repeated itself in Hermione's mind all day. Ron had been splinched, and while the blood had been cleaned, and the wounds mostly healed, he was still a ghastly off-white colour. She tried not to mention it, or stare at him too long, when she handed him tea for the fifth time that evening.

What else could she do? She stupidly forgot to pack any food, thinking that they would be back at Grimmauld Place by the end of the day. How could she have been so complacent? It wasn't like her to not prepare for every possible outcome. But her anxiety over breaking into the Ministry of Magic took over the always prepared part of her brain.

Speaking of brains, she couldn't help but notice Ron's brain scars from the last time they broke into the Ministry. She had seen them before, but never quite so close. Ron's bleeding from the splinching had soaked his top, and since he was barely conscious in the beginning, she and Harry had to pair up to take it off and inspect the damage. The fresh blood had pooled in the crevices made by his scarred skin, creating a kind of map as it dripped down what was left of his arm. It was horrendous and it reminded her of how stupid they had been then breaking into the Ministry.

Not that they were any less reckless now.

But they were safe. Ron was safe. Even if it was temporary, she made herself heave a sigh of relief and try to enjoy the moments they had.

Ron grimaced as he took a bite of the few slippery mushrooms they could forage. Though his grimace quickly changed to a very poor attempt at a smile as he looked up at Hermione.

"Tasty," he said without a hint of irony as he tried to chew through the tough skin of the mushroom. Hermione could swear she could hear it squeaking against his teeth at each bite he took.

"We'll go somewhere where we can get actual food as soon as you can apparate," Hermione reassured, not fully certain that she was telling the truth. But Ron's genuine smile at her statement made her not have the heart to retract what she said.

Even with how frankly inedible the mushrooms were, Ron somehow managed to eat all of them. It was a measly amount, but more than either she or Harry had. She would deny it if asked, but she gave half of her share to Ron. He was healing after all, he needed his strength.

Hermione woke the next day to Harry sneaking out of the tent. Though can one wake, when they never fell asleep in the first place?

She had tossed and turned all night, her mind reeling with the events of the day and all they had to do in the future. Any time Ron grunted or snored—which was often—she scrambled out of bed to check on him.

She feared she had done something wrong, had not healed him properly. Perhaps he was bleeding out, or Hermione missed another wound which was slowly killing him. Each time she darted out of bed she chastised herself for not taking healing classes at Hogwarts. Sure, she had a fundamental understanding of the healing arts, and an outdated certification for CPR from her babysitting days, but there is so much she didn't know. If one of them were truly hurt…

Thankfully, Ron had been sleeping soundly. With the help of sleeping draught and the skill of being a sound sleeper, Ron hadn't woken in the night. Which was good for Hermione, because then she'd have to explain why she was hovering over him like a shadowy figure found in one of her mum's favourite cosy mystery novels.

Hermione tried to will her aching body out of the rigid camp bed. If she hadn't fallen asleep yet, it was doubtful she'd fall asleep now. She decided to make some tea to help her wake up.

"Hey," Ron whispered.

Hermione turned around a little too fast, her stomach feeling that all too common fluttering feeling at the sound of his deep morning voice.

"Hi," she said, trying not to look as flustered as she felt. "Is everything okay? Are you feeling alright?" She hurriedly walked over to his bed and kneeled next to him.

"Just peachy," Ron smiled.

"Do you need more pain potion?" she asked, not sure if Ron was being sarcastic or not.

Ron wiggled his shoulder in an attempt to see how it was feeling. His quick wince, that he tried to cover up, told Hermione all she needed to know.

"I'll bring you some more and some tea," she said, standing up.

But before she could go, Ron grabbed her hand. Her pulse quickened as she turned back to face him.

"I just wanted to say thank you."

Hermione looked at him perplexed. She didn't know what he was on about. Thank her? She was the reason he was in this mess. If she hadn't apparated when she did, or had shaken off the Death Eater sooner, he'd likely be fine.

"I mean it," Ron smiled. "You've been so great. I would not have better care at the hospital; not only did I get 24/7 care but also all the tea a man could ask for," he laughed. "My shoulder feels fine." Hermione shot him a disbelieving look. "Really! It's a bit sore, but it could be a lot worse."

"You're welcome," Hermione said reluctantly, she could see from his face that he meant everything he said. She stood to get up, but Ron didn't let go of her hand. Or she didn't let go of his, she couldn't be sure. They lingered there for another moment before the sound of Harry arriving back at the tent ruined their moment.

Hermione smiled, very aware of the warm blush on her cheeks.

"I'll go get your tea."