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A Light in the Gap by WeasleyMom

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Thanks so much to Jess for looking this over for me. Any lingering mistakes are all mine, I'm afraid. Oh, and sadly, I'm not Jo Rowling.

A Light in the Gap

Sleep should have come easily for Ron. The image of his father’s Patronus still shimmered in his memory. Family safe. Worry had taken up so much space in his mind from the moment they’d left everyone behind at the wedding that he’d not been able to focus as well as he should have done. But now, lying on the floor between his two best friends, relieved by the assurance of his family’s well being, Ron’s thoughts were finally free to roam. They moved easily from concern for the task ahead to the quiet nothingness of the dark room, and finally, to the place where his thoughts so often landed when left to their own devices… Hermione.

On his left, Harry was already asleep. The boys had been sleeping in the same room so long that Ron could tell the difference between his friends’ brooding, pre-sleep silence and the steady breathing of real slumber without so much as a sideways glance.

In contrast, a quick look to his right revealed a subject of incredible familiarity and an equal amount of mystery. Though he’d occupied the bed next to hers in the hospital wing at the end of their fifth year, he had zero familiarity with Hermione’s sleeping patterns. Their makeshift beds were close together, with hers raised a few inches higher than his due to the sofa cushions he’d insisted she sleep on.

Rolling to face her, he saw her eyelashes flutter slightly in the darkness. She was awake.

–Hermione,” he whispered.

She stared straight ahead in silence, mesmerized by something on the wall, near the place where it met the ceiling.

–Can’t you sleep either?”

When she didn’t answer, he followed her gaze up and up, to a place high on the window where the heavy drapes didn’t quite come together. A bit of moonlight shone through the gap, and Hermione seemed to be staring at it.

–Hermione?”

Finally, she cleared her throat and said quietly, –I can’t seem to turn off my brain.”

–Sounds about right.”

Again, she didn’t respond, and he worried it had been the wrong thing to say.

–I’m only joking,” he told her. –Are you all right?”

–Yes.”

But the weight and shudder in her sigh told him otherwise.

–Well, cheers, then. No worries.”

There. He’d broken through the fog of wherever she was, the haze of whatever was worrying her, and got a soft, tinkling shimmer of a laugh from her.

She finally met his eyes. –It’s just…” She hesitated, lifting up on one elbow to look beyond him to the person on the other side.

–He’s asleep,” Ron assured her.

Looking relieved, she settled onto her left side with her head propped up on her hand so they were face-to-face in the shadows. –I hate this place,” she told him. –Please don’t tell Harry --- it’s his house now, and I know it means something to him because of Sirius. But I can’t help it. I hate it here.”

It was quite a confession, as Hermione wasn’t one to be easily frightened by much of anything, let alone admit it. Still, Ron wasn’t exactly surprised, either. He’d seen it on her face when she’d suggested they sleep in the same room. I don’t want to be on my own. And who could blame her? The place was creepy. In fact, he wondered if his own uneasiness with the house was at the root of why he hadn’t been able to settle down to sleep, either.

Even so, he didn’t want to say anything that might make her feel worse. –C’mon, Hermione. We’ve only just arrived, but you must admit Kreacher’s always a charming host.”

Her laughter pierced the whispery quiet, and Ron grinned with satisfaction as he shushed her between his own laughs. He didn’t want to wake Harry.

–I keep thinking of him every time I hear a noise,” she said.

Ron seriously doubted every creak and rattle in this house could be explained by the foul-mouthed old elf, but he didn’t say this to Hermione. –Wherever he is, I’ll hex the nutter if he starts in on you again.”

–You most certainly will not,” she informed him soberly. –House elves have dangerous magic of their own, Ron. You know that.”

He grunted in response.

–He can’t help it. Kreacher is a product of the wizards before him.”

Considering her tone, Ron half-expected her to delve into a long treatise on the history of the abuse of house elves, but to his profound relief, she resisted the temptation, limiting herself to one more comment.

–He may even improve if he spends enough time with Harry as his master.”

Ron wasn’t so sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was argue. –Maybe,” he conceded. –But for now, he’ll have to learn to shut up or else.”

She smiled in spite of all her protests, and Ron wondered what to make of it. Because his words weren’t driven by bravado. The fierce protectiveness he felt toward her had begun years ago; it was stronger now than ever and more each day than the day before. Sometimes he felt as if he were the only one who realized how much more danger Hermione was in simply because she was Muggle-born. As far back as the Quidditch World Cup, he’d sensed it --- feared it even, and it was truer now than it ever had been. He was terrified that his instincts would prove true and he would fail to protect her when she needed him. Kreacher was nothing compared to Death Eaters or Voldemort, and both were out there somewhere right now, waiting for them. The thought was sobering, at the very least.

–What are you thinking?” she asked softly.

–Nothing,” he said easily. –Just… you’re the only person in the world who would defend him, considering how he spoke to you the last time we were here.”

Silence fell between them, and a long time passed with only the sounds of creaking floorboards and the wind outside to accompany their thoughts. At some point, Hermione shifted onto her back again and Ron was left studying her profile. He wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep, but he took a chance and broke the silence, whispering. –Are you still awake?”

The question seemed to echo in the quiet, and yet, he knew she was. As he propped his head up on his hand, he caught a sparkle against her cheek from the crack of light slipping in through the top of the curtains. Worry scratched at his insides. –Are you crying?”

–No.” She sniffed and pressed the fingers of both hands under her eyes to wipe away the evidence.

–What is it?”

Her eyes were fixed again, staring up at that bit of light. –I thought it all through,” she said simply, in a tiny voice. –I knew… I knew it would be painful to take myself out of their lives.” She rolled again to face him, tears and all. –I just never considered what it would feel like to take them out of mine.”

Ron wanted to reach up and bury his hand in the hair at her temple. He wanted to pull her down next to him and hold her and feel the line of her body against his. Surely there could be no better comfort, for either of them. Instead, he brushed his fingers against the back of her hand, asking.

She grabbed on, and they held hands in the inches between their beds—Hermione with her eyes squeezed shut and Ron with his wide open.

–They’re still in your life.”

Her eyes fluttered slightly and opened.

–Just… someplace safe,” he told her, squeezing her hand. –And when this is over…” When, he thought to himself. Whenwhenwhen. –You’ll have them back. We’ll go… we’ll go get them together.”

Brown eyes locked hard onto his, but she said nothing.

–I’ll go with you,” he said, feeling the full weight of the words and the relief in finally saying them. –We’ll find them, you’ll reverse it, and we’ll bring them home.”

Between the stupid lump in the back of his throat and the way Hermione was looking at him… Ron was sure they both knew he was talking about more than her parents.

–When this is over?” she asked.

He nodded with a weak smile, trying not to consider the odds of them both surviving to see such a day. But they could hope, couldn’t they? Besides, he meant every word of that promise, and he wanted her to know it. Merlin knew… he’d been trying to show her how he felt for weeks now.

–Thank you.” The words were so quiet Ron barely heard her. Then she tucked her free hand into her chest and curled up as her eyes slipped shut.

Ron stared at her hand still wrapped inside his own. She’d not pulled away --- a fact that both surprised him and bolstered his confidence. He’d made more than a few Hermione-related mistakes over the last couple of years, but he was getting smarter. He knew how he felt now, what he wanted, and if she was willing to hold on, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let go. Let Harry pry their hands apart in the morning, he thought, smiling inwardly at the image.

He lowered his head and shifted, getting comfortable. Hermione was sleeping now, and Ron studied her carefully. He thought she looked sweet, curled on her side with her knees pulled up just a bit. Her breaths were long and even now --- barely a murmur --- though he was close enough to hear the sound. It soothed him. He was wondering if she always slept in the same position and what her dreams might look like when his own eyes began to grow heavy.

And finally, with her hand in his, Ron slept.