DISCLAIMER: None of the plot, characters or settings of this story belong to me. Unfortunately.


This Night
By LoonyLovegood426

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”Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched.”

The silver weasel that had just appeared in front of the three of them speaking in the voice of Arthur Weasley as they stood inside of number twelve, Grimmauld Place quickly disappeared again. Ron was at a complete loss for words, mostly because he had been extremely relieved, but also because he was somewhat dissatisfied with such a small amount of news. He let out a small noise to show his slight frustration before he dropped his body onto the sofa.

Ron heard a slight whoosh of fabric against the dusty floor as Hermione moved towards him in her dress that she had been wearing at the wedding. It had only been a few hours ago that Hermione had come down the stairs at the Burrow, her gown flowing and her hair sleek and shiny… Now her dress was slightly frayed at the hem and her hair was slowly turning back to its usual frizz. She sat down next to him on the couch and gripped his arm tightly- Ron could vaguely smell the vanilla perfume she had been wearing at the wedding. “They’re all right,” she whispered to him as she leaned toward him more closely. “They’re all right!”

Ron couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at how jubilant she was. He quickly pulled her into a hug. He remembered how lucky he was to be with her, because if she was still at the Burrow with his family, the amount of concern and fear would have been so paramount that it probably would’ve killed him. He smiled as he gripped her more tightly. He then looked up to Harry, who he had badgered before because Harry had said something about feeling Voldemort’s anger.

”But that could be at the Burrow! What else? Didn’t you see anything? Was he cursing someone?!”

“Harry,” he began in an apologetic voice. “I-“

“It’s not a problem,” interrupted Harry. He seemed unfocused, in pain. His scar must’ve been really bothering him. Ron began to pull away from Hermione, although he moved his eyes to her shoulder as to pretend he hadn’t noticed Harry’s obvious pain. “It’s your family. ‘course you’re worried. I’d feel the same way,” he paused, Ron imagined, to rub his scar. “I do feel the same way.”

Ron was now looking at the floor, but was distracted when he felt Hermione place her three middle fingers on his hand. He looked up and looked at her questioningly. She nodded her head in Harry’s direction, her large melancholy eyes looking concerned. Ron looked up at Harry, who had become very pale and was swaying on the spot. He was wincing as his eyes watered in pain. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione interrupted. “I don’t want to be on my own. Could we use the sleeping bags I brought and camp in here tonight?”

Ron looked back and forth briefly between Harry and Hermione. He pondered her motives for a moment before he answered, “Yeah, sure. If you want,” They both looked up at Harry to see if he was going to respond, but he continued to exhibit the behavior of someone in extreme pain.

“Bathroom,” he muttered before he clumsily exited the room. Hermione stood up for a moment and walked toward the doorway to watch Harry slam the bathroom door. She glanced at Ron nervously and then back toward the bathroom door where Harry let out a startling groan of pain.

“You can go help him, if you want. I’ll be fine by myself,” Ron lied. The words had escaped his mouth before he could stop them. He knew that Harry didn’t care for Hermione like he did. After all, it had only been the day before that he had walked in on him snogging his sister. But that wasn’t what mattered. It was what Hermione felt that scared him. Of course, it would only be natural for Hermione to like Harry more than him. Compared to Harry, Ron had no spine or skills. Compared to Harry, Ron was a skinny little ginger that no one would ever remember. Compared to Harry, Ron was nothing. Of course Hermione should like, maybe love Harry. After all, Ron would pick Harry over himself if he was a girl.

“I- no. I can’t look at Harry when he’s like that. It worries me. Not to mention, it annoys me,” she answered, her tone going from concerned to furious very quickly. She then left the doorway and sat back down next to Ron.

“How could it annoy you that he’s in unbearable pain?” Ron asked, suppressing a laugh. “Isn’t that a little insensitive of you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered as she crossed both her legs and her arms. “It’s not as if he wasn’t given a chance to stop it from ever happening again…”

“But wasn’t the man teaching him the same man who killed Dumbledore?” Ron asked.

“Even so, Ron. How is Harry supposed to, you know, ‘lead us to victory’ if he can’t even block his mind?” she asked, the volume of her voice escalating slightly. “I mean, what if Vol-“

”Sssshhh…” Ron said as he quickly put his finger to her mouth. She looked down at it briefly, but Ron pulled it away quickly.

“Um, yeah well like I was saying… What if You-Know-Who reads his mind one day and figures out that we’re here and has Snape tell him how to get in and-“

“Hermione, you think too much,” interrupted Ron. “I think Harry knows what to do. And if he’s wrong, we’ll be able to tell when something he says is a little, uh, far-fetched.”

“Is there such a thing as ‘far-fetched’ in the wizarding world, Ron?” asked Hermione as her lips curled up into a small smile. The two of them laughed as Hermione laid her head on Ron’s shoulder. Ron looked at her briefly; she looked so unbelievably beautiful when she was happy. It was as if every time Hermione smiled, his world got a little bit brighter. She was never the type to be truly happy all that often, so her being happy was something Ron really wanted for Hermione and could embrace it and appreciate it while it took place. He quickly took in the faint scent of her vanilla perfume before he heard her moan.

“Oh, my dress… I didn’t realize I- and I bet my hair’s a mess again, huh?” she sat up a little and began to pat her head with her left hand.

“Who cares?” Ron answered. “You still look great.” Hermione looked slightly taken aback by his compliment. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again right away. She smiled again and lied back down, placing her head on his shoulder again.

“Thank you, Ron. It’s nice to hear that,” she replied. She looked up at him briefly before sitting up slightly to kiss his cheek. “You amaze me.”

“How so?” Ron asked.

“It’s just… you would never have said something like that a year ago,” she answered.

“No, I probably wouldn’t have. But you know, times like these,” Ron thought briefly of the book, Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches sitting in his room back at the Burrow before he continued. “It changes people. You know, makes you appreciate everything a little more,” Ron looked down at Hermione and gripped her shoulder. She looked up at him, a small smile still adorning her face and her brown eyes sparkling. “I- I’m glad you’re here with me, Hermione.”

She placed her hand on top of his for a moment and briefly struck his thumb before replying, “I’m glad to be here with you, Ron.”

And they just sat there quietly. If this moment was the moment Ron died, he would have been satisfied. All he wanted was for her to be happy, and it seemed that at this very moment she was. But then the moment of silence was disrupted by a loud gasp coming from the bathroom.

“I wonder if he’s okay,” said Ron. “Want me to-?”

“No, I will,” said Hermione as she quickly stood up. “I have his toothbrush in my bag. And I’ve got to change anyway; it’s getting late so we should get to bed soon. Um, here…” said Hermione as she opened her beaded bag. “Um, Accio sleeping bags!” she murmured as three large, plushy sleeping bags that smelled greatly of wildflowers from the garden at the Burrow sprung out of the beaded bag and into a heap on the floor.

“And your pajamas, too,” she said as she reached in and pulled out a pair of some of his aging maroon pajamas. “I’m sorry if those are too small, but I was-“

“I know, I know,” Ron interrupted. “In a rush…”

“Um, right. So I’ll go in and hand Harry his toothbrush and his pajamas, just to check up on him. Then I’ll change and be right back. You wouldn’t mind setting up the sleeping bags, would you?”

“Not a problem,” said Ron as he bent down and began to remove the three sleeping bags from the heap. “Wait a moment, these aren’t from my house, are they?”

“No, they belong to my parents. I took them and embroidered them with our initials before I came to the Burrow last month. It helped me take my mind off of everything, you know, and it helps me-“

“Hey, you didn’t give me the maroon one!” said Ron as he held up a maroon sleeping bag embroidered in silver thread with the initials H.P.

“Of course I didn’t,” answered Hermione as she reached into her beaded bag and pulled out a maroon toothbrush and a set of pajamas that looked as though they were several years old, several sizes too large for anyone Ron knew, and dyed a hideous gray color. “You hate maroon.”

Before Ron could reply, she had quickly glided out of the room and knocked on the bathroom door. ”Harry, do you want your toothbrush?” Ron heard her call through the door. “I’ve got it here.”

“Yeah, great, thanks,” Ron heard Harry answer from behind the door. He heard Harry open it and Hermione walk in.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Ron heard Hermione ask. Ron didn’t want to hear anymore, even though there was nothing to hear. Whatever it was that Ron was feeling; anger, jealousy, frustration… he couldn’t stand the idea of Harry and Hermione being in a room together without him. The only thing that could make him more annoyed than Hermione tending to a sick Harry in the bathroom would be if she was walking into the bathroom to tend to a sick Viktor Krum.

Krum, thought Ron to himself. With his stupid little mustache and his stupid accent… not to mention he was being a big prat at my brother’s wedding because someone wore some stupid symbol on their shirt… Ron had finished spreading out the maroon sleeping bag and was pulling up a navy blue one with the initials H.G. embroidered in sky blue thread on it when a huge grin swept his face.

“Hermione’s going to be next to me tonight,” Ron mumbled to himself as he threw her sleeping bag more to the right. He grabbed a dark green sleeping bag and flattened it out, finding the initials R.W. embroidered in gold thread at the bottom of the sleeping bag. He then put Hermione’s sleeping bag on the floor, but then realized that it would probably be a good idea to put the couch cushions on the floor under her sleeping bag for her to be comfortable. After all, he just wanted her to be as happy as possible.

Hermione walked into the room to find that Ron was fashioning her a pillow out of his pajama trousers when she let out a howl of laughter. Ron turned in surprise to see her wearing an old Weird Sisters t-shirt over a pair of purple plaid pajama pants. “Ron, I can’t believe you’re making yourself a pillow out of your trousers!”

“I’m not!” Ron bellowed. “I’m making you a pillow out of my trousers, thank-you-very-much!” said Ron in a mimic of Hermione’s voice.

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” said Hermione in between giggles. “Take those pants and put them on right now!” she jokingly shouted as she threw her beaded bag onto the frame of the cushion-less couch.

“Right now?” said Ron, grinning still.

“Yes! Right now!” she replied.

Ron looked around the room for a moment, checked to make sure that Harry wasn’t on his way in and then looked Hermione directly in the eye. “Okay,” he said simply. He began to unbuckle his belt and to his astonishment, Hermione said nothing at first, but simply starred.

“Ron Weasley, I swear to God…”

“You said right now, so,” and he dropped his pants, causing a clank of metal against the wood floor that was his belt. “Right now it is!”

“You’re ridiculous. Thank God you’re wearing boxers. I think I’d have to run away if you were wearing anything else,” Hermione sighed casually.

“Like hell you would,” said Ron as he kicked his jeans that he had changed into earlier in the alleyway off of Tottenham Court Road and into his too-short-pajama pants.

“No, I- I wouldn’t. I was joking, is all…” said Hermione as she began to yawn. Ron began to take off his shirt, and although his vision was obscured by his shirt he could feel her eyes burning into his chest. This made him smile a little as he reached down on to the couch cushions to grab his matching pajama top. “Um, don’t you think that Harry should sleep on the couch cushions?”

I had almost forgotten about him, Ron thought bitterly. The mention of Harry’s name had kind of put a damper on an otherwise very funny moment. Well, at least it’s not Krum she’s talking about. Besides, Harry fancies my sister and-

“Ron?” Hermione asked, bringing Ron’s attention back to earth. “Don’t you think Harry should-?”

“No. He’ll be fine. I insist you sleep on the cushions,” Ron said as convincingly as possible.

“Ron, you haven’t looked at him. He’s not right. He looked like he’d been sitting in a bucket of ice for a month when I walked in there. He couldn’t even hold his toothbrush right.”

“Hermione, he’ll be fine, okay? Trust me. Harry’s a big boy. I think he can deal with sleeping on a hard wood floor. You should just get on the cushions right-“

“What could you guys possibly be arguing about?” groaned Harry as he walked into the room. He looked only slightly paler than the last time Ron had looked at him only a little while ago, but he looked as though he had run several miles or was recovering from some sort of headache. The only other time Ron had seen him like that was when they were in Dumbledore’s office after he had seen Ron’s father being attacked by Nagini at the Ministry of Magic in their fifth year. “Because I, honestly don’t feel like dealing with it-“

“Hermione insists that I sleep on the couch cushions!” Ron lied quickly. “But I don’t think I need to, so she’s the only person that should sleep on the cushions, right Harry?”

“How about we settle it this way,” said Hermione as she crossed her arms. She was clearly annoyed by Ron’s lie. “How about you sleep on the couch cushions, Harry?”

Harry looked at the two of them a little bit bewildered. He began to rub the back of his neck and said, “Well, actually I-“

He stopped, however, when Ron shot him a death glare of sorts. Harry seemed to have gotten the message.

“Um, yeah actually I don’t really want it. I’m fine. I hate how those cushions smell anyway,” said Harry. “Oh, damn. I uh, left my wand in the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute!” Harry yelled as he ran into the bathroom. Ron turned and looked at Hermione with a satisfied grin on his face, but Hermione looked back at him, thoroughly infuriated. Suddenly Ron heard the sound of Harry vomiting come from the bathroom and couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

“I hope you’re happy, Ron,” said Hermione. “Laughing at your sick friend who’s throwing his guts up and you refuse to let him have the couch cushions to sleep on!”

”I refuse to let him have the couch cushions to sleep on?!” Ron quoted angrily. “He said no! He could’ve taken them if he wanted, but like he said he wasn’t interested!”

“Like hell he wasn’t!” snapped Hermione. “I saw that look you gave him!”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Ron. “I wouldn’t stoop so low as to give my sick best mate a look just to make sure you got to sleep on some rotten old couch cushions!”

Hermione scoffed and stormed over to her sleeping bag. She threw her sleeping bag over herself, trying to hide her face from Ron. “You’re infuriating,” she mumbled.

“And I thought I amazed you?” asked Ron quietly, almost to himself, as he walked over to his dark green sleeping bag.

“Yes, you amaze me,” said Hermione. “You amaze me by being a stupid ginger git!”

“Hey, who are you talking to about hair, Fro-mione Granger?”

Hermione snorted and turned to look at him. “That’s why you amaze me, Ron. Because you can do that.”

“Do what?” Ron asked as he grabbed the Deluminator he had gotten from Dumbledore out of his pant’s pocket and held it in his hand before covering himself in the sleeping bag.

“You can make me laugh and help me remember why it is I even talk to you, let alone hang out with you all the time and spend every summer in your over-crowded house,” she said, still smiling.

“Ha!” said Ron as he pulled out the Deluminator from under the covers and flicked it, turning out the light in the room.

Even in the darkness, Ron could see Hermione flop her body around so that she was lying on her stomach. Ron mimicked her action, only not so clumsily as to make sure it wasn’t too obvious.

Then suddenly, Hermione gasped. “My bag!” she said, panic in her voice. “My bag! Where’s my bag, Ron?!” she said as she groped all around, including the space between their sleeping bags.

“Hermione, relax!” said Ron. “It’s on the couch frame, remember?”

“Oh,” said Hermione. “Right. I’m sorry. That was silly.”

“It’s fine. I’d like to know where that is at all times if I were you, too,” said Ron as he starred at the dark silhouette of her hand on the ground near the top of his head.

Hermione then sighed. “I’m scared, Ron.”

“Of what?” he asked.

“Everything. I’m scared of everything. I’m even scared to fall asleep tonight,” she answered. She sounded as though she was somewhere in between asleep and awake. Ron, since he couldn’t really see her face, imagined a Hermione in this state, for he had never slept in the same room with her (except for once at the Quidditch World Cup, but he didn’t really get a chance to talk to her alone.)

“It’s okay, Hermione. I promise you this night,” said Ron as he reached up and grabbed her hand, linking fingers with her. “I promise that tonight you’re going to have a good night’s sleep and that you’re going to be safe and you’ll wake up and everything will be okay.”

“Really?” Hermione mumbled quietly.

Ron took her hand and kissed it, thinking she probably wouldn’t remember it when she woke up. “Really. I swear.”

And Hermione spoke no longer. The only sound she made was slow, deep breathing. Ron smiled to himself and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep as he held Hermione’s hand in his own.