As soon as Ron burst out into the cold winter air, his best friend was trying to hold him back. Even if Harry hadn't been trying to listen to the argument, he would've heard it from a mile away. He wrapped his arms around Ron, trying to prevent him from escaping beyond the boundaries again.

"Let me go, Harry!" Ron screamed, pushing the smaller boy and marching away from the tent.

Harry chased after him, grabbing at his arm and trying to drag him back. "Ron, stop! Don't do this!"

"She doesn't want me here! She just said as much herself!"

"That's not what she said, Ron!"

"Read between the lines, Harry!"

"No, you read between the lines!"

As he approached the limit of their enchantments, Ron finally jolted to a stop. His consciousness had gone blank; he saw nothing but white-hot rage. How could she think that of him, that he wanted to leave last time? Did his apologies mean nothing? Did the fact that he came back mean nothing? Was his life forever going to be defined by one terrible choice?

Maybe I really should leave again. Maybe it would just be better for all of us.

"Ron, please. You'll regret it, I know you will. We need you with us. The three of us agreed to do this at the outset, and the three of us need to see it through. We can't do this without you!"

Try as he might to let Harry's words filter into his mind, he just couldn't wrap his head around them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and slow his racing heart. It helped a little bit. The protective spells shimmered in the morning light as he held out his wand to the edge of the barrier.

"Tell that to her…"

"I have. I will again if I have to. But she knows it, Ron. We all know it. You know it too, I think."

Ron's chin dropped to his chest and he let out a long sigh. The silence stretched on as he considered his next move, but really, he was simply recognizing the obvious. "I'm not actually leaving. I just…I wish I could get away for a little bit. Away from…everything."

"I know, mate. You think I haven't thought the same thing at times? We're all probably going a little crazy cooped up together like this. But some things are more important, aren't they? We've got to stick together, even when we're angry."

He was exactly right. Ron hated it when he was right. Their mission was far too important to jeopardize over their in-fighting, no matter how infuriating it could get. For some bloody reason, Dumbledore entrusted them to continue the fight after he was gone. Not the Order. Not his colleagues at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It would be horrible if they repaid his confidence with failure due to internal combustion.

And while he knew how critical their mission was, it was his thoughts about Hermione that really solidified his decision. Over the last several months, they'd grown to rely on each other; not just as friends, but as partners in a way. He wished that someday he'd have the courage to acknowledge it out loud, but she was the thing he cherished the most. If he'd participated in the Triwizard Tournament…well, let's just say she would've found out about his feelings for her much earlier.

At the moment, though, he just wanted her back. Not the version of her he'd been faced with upon his return, no matter how much he understood her anger and frustration. The version of her he'd grown to love over the past six years. Maybe that Hermione was gone forever, but he had to keep trying. Nothing was more important to him than the prospect of a future with her. It was what made all the fighting and sacrifice worthwhile.

If only he could make her see that through her resentment.

"Yeah, you're right," he finally acquiesced, turning around and meandering back in the direction of the tent.

Harry walked right alongside him. "Course I'm right."

The morning frost crunched under Ron's trainers, the cold air crisp in his lungs. It wasn't snowing any longer, but he could still sense that sharp winter smell. Trees and shrubs rustled with wildlife as the chilly temperature only prompted the local fauna to work harder at foraging for winter provisions. If they were back at Hogwarts, it would be the perfect kind of day for sitting inside by the fireplace and playing game after game of Wizard's Chess or Exploding Snap with his friends.

His friends…almost a foreign concept of late.

"But I'm not crazy, yeah?" Ron continued. "Her jumping into my bed is strange, isn't it? I mean, is she doing that with you too?"

"Nope, of course she hasn't."

"Maybe it really is nothing. Maybe I'm overthinking it."

"Ron," Harry said, pulling his friend to a stop several meters from their magical abode, "you're absolutely overthinking it. She's never gotten into my bed. Ever. Not at Hogwarts, not at the Burrow or Grimmauld, not in this tent. It's just you. She doesn't do it with me because I'm not you."

"You really think so?"

"Mate, it's obvious. I mean, look…why now? That's a fair question. But why you? To me, that's as plain as day."

Of course, Ron couldn't allow himself to believe Harry's implication entirely. "I don't know. Wish she would just say what she meant."

"Two can play at that game."

Ron broke into a small smile and turned away. "Shut up, Harry."

"Fine, I will. Not like it's me you should be talking to in the first place…"

"Probably right."

"Go on, then. I'll, erm, stay out here for a bit longer, give you some space. But…maybe try to make things right quickly, yeah? I'm starting to get a little hungry and I'd like to have a bite to eat when my shift is up."

"Right," Ron agreed with a chuckle. "I'll do my best."

Steeling himself, he ducked his head and reentered the tent. It was deathly quiet and dark inside, and there was no sign of Hermione anywhere. The door to the bathroom was closed, but if he listened very closely, Ron thought he could hear a soft sniffing sound coming from that direction. He didn't have long to puzzle out its meaning as Hermione popped out of the loo just a few seconds later.

Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot as she emerged. As soon as she caught sight of him, she turned and headed back into the small room.

"Hermione, wait!" he called, stepping forward after her.

"Go away, Ronald!" she yelled through another sob.

"No, I won't. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She was silent for several moments before finally speaking. "Fine."

The resulting quiet was calmer and less tense, but still just as confusing for Ron. Should he encourage her to come out and talk? Would that just make things worse? He was fairly confident he could fend off an attack if she were to try to hex him, but he'd rather not find out.

Eventually, he decided that a peace offering was his best option, even if it was unlikely to yield any results. "Hermione, can we talk?"

As expected, nothing.

Rather stupid of me to expect a response now. Suppose it's up to me…

"Alright, I'll talk. You can listen," he stated with as much confidence as he could muster. "First of all, I'm sorry I yelled, and I'm sorry I stormed out. I just needed a bit of space for a moment…you know how sometimes we get under each other's skin–"

"Oh, do we, really?" she spat sarcastically.

"–but look…when I came back from…when I came back last week," he pressed on, ignoring her interruption. "I promised I wouldn't leave again, and I won't. Ever. You can ignore me or berate me or scream at me from now until we finally off You Know Who, but I'm staying, end of discussion."

There was no response from behind the door, but the repetitive sniffing sound had slowed down a bit. Perhaps his words were having some effect?

"I would apologize every second of the day if that's what it would take for you to forgive me, Hermione. I'd do it, you know I would. It was selfish and arrogant, and I was weak when I left. Honestly, I'm not even surprised that you haven't forgiven me because I know I haven't forgiven myself. Probably never will, come to think of it.

"But I'm so glad I was able to find you again. You and Harry. I know now that this is the only place I want to be, and I'm here for good. I'm not sure how or why, but the three of us are meant to solve this together. Whatever part I can play, I'll play. Because it was bloody torture sitting in Bill and Fleur's cottage not knowing where you were, whether you were making progress, whether you were alright. I couldn't…it was like my body was shutting down as some form of punishment or something. It was awful, but it didn't even bother me because I knew I deserved it. Sound like a complete nutter, I guess."

It was almost surprising how easily all of that honesty poured out of him. He realized he'd been tiptoeing around her so carefully for the last week that he'd never really explained how he felt about the situation. Not all of how he felt, of course, but the parts that were important for now. He'd apologized, yes. Groveled, sure. Made sure he was exceedingly polite, always. But he'd never really told her how much he had been tormented by his decision, how much she factored into his anguish when he was gone.

No sound was coming from the loo any longer, but he knew she had to be listening. And he knew he had to keep going. There was more she needed to know.

"And I missed you…so much. You know, one day toward the end of my stay there, I realized that it was the longest I'd ever been away from you since before third year. Ever since then, we've either been at school or together for at least part of the summer. We've never been apart for more than a few weeks. Never realized how much I needed you until you weren't there anymore. I couldn't do it, Hermione. My life without you…it's just not…it doesn't work. Not that it surprises me, but it's almost like I can't–"

"So what, Ron?" Hermione threw open the door to the bathroom and exploded out into the room, coming face to face with him in a matter of seconds. "Why is that my problem? What am I supposed to do with that information?"

Her sudden appearance shocked him, and he was left fumbling for words. "Oh, uhh, I mean, it's not…your problem, that is. But it–it is true. And I thought…well, I thought you should know."

For just a moment, her face flushed red, and she swallowed hard while avoiding eye contact. Any sign of vulnerability was immediately papered over as her jaw reset and her eyes narrowed again. "Well now I know. Thanks for that. I'll be getting back to work…"

"Hermione, come on," he said, reaching for her arm as she pushed past him.

Yanking her arm away, she spun back toward him. "No! We have nothing left to discuss!"

"Really? Nothing? After what I just told you?"

"That–that…that's your issue."

"Got to be kidding me…" he muttered under his breath. It was critical that he reined in his temper, though. Explosions of anger were what got him into such a mess in the first place. If she didn't want to talk about that, he'd have to accept it for the time being.

He did, however, need other answers. Answers that couldn't wait.

"Fine. But at least tell me what's going on, Hermione," he called to her as she walked away. "Why have you been sleeping in my bed?"

Head buried in her hands, Hermione released a frustrated exhale. "Why do we have to keep revisiting this? Are you actively trying to make me furious?"

"No, of course not, but I know you're not telling me the whole truth."

"Because you're so attuned to the truth, are you?"

Biting his tongue so hard it was nearly bleeding, he kept any retorts to himself. In most instances, there were only so many insults or slights he could tolerate without losing his mind. But his relationship with Hermione was too important, and at least she was finally talking to him. It wouldn't do to stop when he was finally making progress.

"That's not what I'm saying," he said in a soft tone. "I can't read minds or anything. But I know you, Hermione. I know you pretty well."

Hermione stood back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, Ron. You tell me, then. What is it that I'm not telling you?"

"I–I just know that…that I don't have all the information. I don't know exactly what it is."

"Oh, sure you do. Go on, then, let's have your answer. You're as clairvoyant as Trelawney, I suspect."

"Now you're just being evasive on purpose…"

"No I'm not!" she exclaimed, stopping and backtracking toward him.

"Course you are!"

"Just because you think I'm obfuscating doesn't make it true! I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts!"

"Hermione," he growled. The ease with which she could fluster and enrage him was staggering. All of his instincts were trying to override his body and push back, and he was having an increasingly difficult time bottling them up.

She flipped her hair behind her and glared back at him. "Yes?"

Someone had to volunteer information first, and it was becoming more and more clear that it wouldn't be Hermione. "Fine. I don't think you're sharing my bed whenever possible just because you're cold. I think you're either trying to tell me something or you're trying to torture me. I'd believe both, but the longer this conversation goes on, the more I'm leaning toward the latter."

"Torture you? Like that makes any sense. You know what's going on in the world right now with You Know Who and his supporters, and yet you call that torture?"

It felt like a trap. To admit that her being next to him when he couldn't touch her or hold her was torture…that would be a big step. He'd just told her how much he needed her in his life, of course, but since she seemed to gloss right over that, any further admission would represent a huge leap of faith. Perhaps it wasn't the time for that part of the conversation.

"When it's this confusing? Yeah, I kinda do!"

Their eyes remained locked on each other for several seconds until she scoffed, turned around, and walked back toward their beds. "Then you're even more daft than I ever thought."

"Well, then what, Hermione? What is it?"

"Just leave me alone, I'm sick of talking about this!"

"Hermione, please just tell me…"

"No! It's none of your business!"

None of my business…but then…

"Aha, so it is something, then! Come on, then, out with it!" he begged, trailing behind her across the room.

"Go away, Ron!"

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"

"Ron…"

"No, Hermione!"

"You need to go away!"

"No, you're too important!"

Hermione came to a sudden halt and spun around, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening and her breathing shallow. A low cry echoed out of her throat as her shoulders slumped.

"Fine! What do you want me to say, Ron? That I missed you so much I cried myself to sleep every night when you were gone? That I was physically breaking down without you here to support me? That I've been sleeping in your bed for weeks even before you came back just to try to remember your smell? That the only reason I decided to join you was because I needed to be as close to you as possible to make sure it was all real? That I couldn't believe you had actually returned without feeling you next to me? Is that what you want to hear?"

His heart was breaking as he watched her crumble backward onto the bed, dissolving into a flurry of tears and piercing cries.

Merlin's beard, she's telling the truth. Why hadn't I seen it sooner?

"Only if it's true," he said with a hesitant step toward her.

Lifting her watery eyes back toward him, she caught a hitched breath and nodded. "Of course it's true."

Ron sat down on the edge of the mattress, keeping a few inches of space between them. Slowly, carefully, he dropped his arm over her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I wasn't…I didn't know."

"I know you didn't," she replied as she swiped the moisture away from her eyes. "I know."

Her head dropped onto his shoulder and she melted into the crook of his arm. Every point of contact along the side of his body was tingling, but for as long as he'd waited to hold her, he could barely enjoy it. Guilt flooded his body over the knowledge of all the heartache his departure had put her through. For so long, he'd just assumed she was filled with pure anger for him because he'd abandoned the mission. The revelation that she was in fact grieving his absence had never crossed his mind.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he murmured, wrapping his other arm around her small frame. "I know I'll never be able to tell you enough times to earn your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean I won't try."

"Don't be stupid. I forgave you the second you turned back up in the tent."

"Y–You did?"

"Of course I did. You were back. That was all that mattered. Not that I was ready to admit it at the time…"

"Right, yeah, I understand."

The guilt didn't totally lift, but the feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Getting his relationship with Hermione back on track was the most important thing in the world to him, and it was finally happening. He couldn't believe his luck. Tightening his grip on her shoulder, he laid his head down on hers, imagining how it would feel to hold her close every night in his bed. Looks like he'd finally get the chance.

Suddenly, Hermione pulled back from him, her expression hardening again. "But if you ever pull something like that again, Ron Weasley, you'll find I won't be nearly as forgiving."

He tried to keep his chuckle to himself, but she caught him. "You know you sound a bit like Mum."

A grin slowly spread across her face as well. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Erm…in a way."

"It is."

Her body leaned into his side again, and the scent of her rosemary and citrus shampoo filled his nostrils. It was better than the smell coming from the kitchen at the Burrow before Sunday night dinner. He was surprised by the images of Hermione cooking the meal in a future free of You Know Who entering his mind. Stranger still that, in these visions, there were a few kids running around outside.

Slow it down. One step at a time.

As much as he hated to get up, an idea popped into his head, a thought that had been floating around in the back of his mind for over a year. It would be the perfect way to cement their reconciliation. "Hey, wait right here for a minute."

Her brow furrowed as he jumped up and found his backpack, rummaging around until he reached the bottom. A small, rectangular box still sat buried under piles of clothes and books, awaiting its final destination. He pulled it out of the bag and admired its imperfect wrapping, an old front page of the Daily Prophet.

"What's this?" she asked, craning her neck with curiosity as he approached her.

The mattress gave a bit as he sat down next to her again, handing her the package. "Your Christmas gift. I meant to give it to you last Christmas, actually, but…you know."

"Oh. Right."

In true Hermione fashion, she carefully lifted the haphazardly placed tape from the paper, dissecting the gift as carefully as she manipulated her ingredients in Potions. A dark blue box tumbled onto her lap, and when she popped open the top, her eyes lit up with excitement.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said. "I know it was over a week ago, but better late than never."

"Is this…?!"

"Erm, it's a phoe–"

"It's a phoenix feather quill!"

She threw her arms around his neck, crushing so hard he thought he might pass out. "Ron, it's beautiful! I've had my eye on this for ages. How did you know?"

"We always went to Hogsmeade together, remember? You'd drag me to Scrivenshaft's for an hour before finally letting us go to Honeydukes. And you never stopped staring at it, so I figured…"

They both chuckled as Hermione continued to admire the gift, eventually placing it back in its box. "I love it. Thank you so much, Ron. You didn't have to."

"Course…you can use it when you go back to Hogwarts and finish your seventh year properly."

Setting the quill down on the table next to her, the mood dampened a bit. Both of them knew that it was no guarantee that they'd ever return to the place they'd first met, or that it would even remain operational at all. Even though they were both clearly thinking the same thing, though, the sentiment went unspoken, and she smiled up at him.

"Someday," she said, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah. Someday."

The sun was now peeking into the tent, its light causing a warm glow throughout the room. Their mission was nowhere near over, and there were certainly hard times still to come. But for those few precious moments, it all disappeared from Ron's mind. All of the worry and anxiety and fear faded, and he could only think about how lucky he was to have Hermione back. Back as a friend at the very least, but maybe more. Time would tell…

"So," Hermione continued, glancing down at her wristwatch, "it's still half an hour until Harry's shift is up. I don't know about you, but I could use a little more rest."

Her eyes were mischievous, and they remained glued to his as she slid down under the covers, extending a silent invitation. He didn't need to be asked twice.

"You know, I'm pretty knackered myself."

Climbing over her legs, he lay down next to her, looping an arm over her waist and pulling her toward him. Their foreheads met in the middle of the pillow, and she was beaming at him, giggling the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. Her hand found his under the blanket, and she laced their fingers together before dropping their joined hands onto her waist. It shouldn't have been comfortable, but he never wanted to get up again.

Her warm breath tickled his face as she whispered, "Is this real?"

He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before meeting her gaze again with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. "Yeah, this is real."