All characters belong to J.K.R. Not to poor little me.


Breathe. Just Breathe.

She’s always told herself this, chanted it internally like a mantra. Repeating it over and over. Like a plea when she was too frightened, too distraught, too broken to feel that she could go on.

It helps sometimes. A mental reminder to her lungs to keep on breathing, her brain to keep functioning, her heart to keep beating. A reminder that she HAS to keep on going.

Because sometimes it’s scarier to keep on going than it is to stop.

Breathe, she tells herself now, just breathe.

It’s worked before.

A troll in the bathroom, two boys risking their lives for her. Crouched on the floor, watching wide-eyed.

Breathe.

A glimpse of horror seen through the mirror she holds unsteadily before her.

Breathe.

Confrontation with a best friend then with a believed criminal, running from a respected teacher turned monster.

Breathe.

Waiting. For Ron to ask her to the Yule Ball. For Harry to emerge from the maze. For Cedric to wake up.

Breathe.

Running in the Hall of Mysteries, hearing screams and shouts from her companions, feeling ice run through her veins as she fell to the floor.

Breathe.

Heartbreak watching Ron and Lavender. Fear, unbelievable fear during the battle in Hogwarts. Utter desolation at Dumbledore’s funeral.

Breathe.

Lying on a cold stone floor, bloodied fingers twitching toward her wand without any real possibility of grasping it. Hearing her beloved’s voice as he finally broke down the door, saying her name brokenly as he hefted her limp form off the floor.

Breathe. Just Breathe.

She yells it, screams it. But no one can hear, not Ron who is carrying her up, up out of the dungeon. Not Harry who is limping, his arm slung over Ginny’s shoulder, both of them looking frantically down at her while they made their way out of the castle.

Breathe.

It’s no use. Her body just won’t listen this time.
---------------------------------------------------

He knows the minute she stops breathing. Without even looking down at her frail form, he feels the sudden cessation of movement as abruptly as if it was his own heart that has stopped. Maybe it has.

Without hesitation he lays her on the ground, insensible to the fighting going on around them. With a practiced hand, he feels for her pulse, not wanting to think about how many of his friends’ wrists he searched for a sign of life these past few weeks.

His stomach drops as his fingers confirm what his heart already knows.

In the blink of an eye, Ron allows himself to see his future stretching out without her. In this one solitary moment, he sees a lifetime of loneliness, an eternity of heartbreak. As fast as this misery enters his brain, fury lights up the very fiber of his being.

No. He cannot lose her now.

“Breathe!” he says urgently to her while brandishing his wand and casting spells.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry covering them from possible attack and Ginny adding her own considerable Healing talents to his frantic spells.

He looks down at her pale lips, remembering them lush and pink beneath his own. His gut clenches painfully. He cannot and will not lose her now.

“Breathe!” he says again, a note of desperation entering his voice.

Last night, on the eve of the battle, a different sort of desperation prompted him to corner her in the library. There, amidst piles of books and flickering candlelight, he told her without preamble, “I can’t do this without you.” She looked uncertain and joyous at the same time and took a stumbling half step toward him. Uncertainty faded as he met her half way, gripping her upper arms roughly, both of them trembling with pent up emotion.
“I won’t do this without you,” he said, tipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. His actions and his tone left nothing to be misunderstood.

Lips parted and taking shallow breaths, Hermione abruptly gripped the hair at the back of his head so hard it hurt and yanked his head back so their eyes could meet.

He stares at her for a moment, seeing a mirror of his love and frantic desire reflected back from her eyes, before she says ferociously, “You are MINE.”

When they kissed it was like a clap of thunder.

Now, almost 24 hours later, she was lying broken in front of him.

The other members of the Order of the Phoenix have joined them at this point and Ron sinks down to her side while Healing spells are fired at her from all angles.

“Breathe love, please breathe,” he pleads.

The sudden silence hits him like a ton of bricks and he looks up, bewildered, wondering why they have stopped.

“Ron,” Ginny says brokenly, “Ron, she’s gone.” His sister is sobbing now, clutching Charlie for support. Harry, tears streaming unchecked, reaches for him. “I’m sorry Ron, I’m so sorry.”

Ron backs away from them confused, “What the hell are you doing?? Why have you stopped??”

Tonks, blood and tears smeared over her face, crouches down to him, “Ron, its no use. We’ve used every spell we have,” she says sorrowfully.

In shock, Ron allows Fred and George to lift him to his feet. Uncharacteristically silent, the twins pull him to them in a crushing hug. “C’mon, we have to get out of here,” Fred whispers.

Through a haze, he sees Bill pick up Hermione. Her body, he thinks.

The fury returns, cutting through the haze and shock.

No. No. AND NO.

This will not end today. She will not end today.

Furious, he pushes off Fred and then George and grabs Hermione out of Bill’s arms. They look at him aghast as he lays her on the ground again.

“BREATHE!” He screams at her before tilting her head back and covering her mouth with his in a morbid imitation of a kiss. He exhales air into her mouth, flooding her lungs, making her chest rise.

Nothing. He sits back on his haunches, only vaguely hearing his friends sobbing behind him.

Abruptly, he starts again.

“Breathe, damm it, breathe!” He feels someone pull at his arm and shakes them off angrily. He loosens the clasp of her robes and starts rhythmically pounding on her chest. “She’s not going to die, she can’t die,” he tells them, lost in the repetition of his movements.

“Breathe!” He returns to her mouth, physically giving her air and mentally giving her his soul.

“You’ve never given up on anything in your whole life, so don’t you dare give up on me now,” he mutters furiously. “BREATHE!”

Leaning over her, his mouth on hers, all of a sudden he feels her twitch. His heart hammering in his chest, he sits back and looks at her.

She twitches again and he can see her eyelids flutter. “Oh God, please,” he prays. Her eyelids flutter again and then she opens then, choking in air. Gasps of disbelief from his friends turn into insane shouts of frantic happiness.

She was alive.
-----------------------------------

24 hours later…

Ron lay in the white, starched little hospital bed curled protectively around Hermione. The Healers initially tried to get him to stay in his own bed, to no avail. He was not leaving her.

After getting her to St. Mungo’s, the Healers worked on her for hours before proclaiming her to be in stable condition. Ron was by her side the entire time.

Now, in the darkest part of the night, he feels at peace. Thinking her to be still asleep, he kisses the nape of her neck before nuzzling his head against her shoulder.

“You are mine,” he whispers.
He is shaken when he feels her move and turn toward him. Looking at him with liquid eyes, she simply says, “Yes” and softly kisses him. He looks at her speechlessly.

“Breathe,” she orders him with a smile and leans in again.


-Fin-