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A cacophony of shouts and thumps fills the air. Jets of light are flying every which way, red from one side green from the other, like a bizarre Christmas come early. A streak of green whizzes towards Hermione’s head and she ducks just in time, crouching into a roll before coming up and firing off a round of stunners and low level curses. She scans the battlefield and calls out.
“RON?!! HARRY?!!”
Her stomach clenches at the lack of response, but she hadn’t expected anything else. The battlefield is large and loud (and bloody). They know what they’re doing, she reminds herself. She runs and ducks her way through the death eaters, towards the entrance to the school.
“Hermione?”
She whirls around, a spell on her lips, but it’s just Ron. “Ron, thank god. Have you seen Harry?” They slide into their familiar back to back stance, firing spells out as they talk.
“Yeah he’s with Luna and Neville, they’re around the back.”
Hermione nods, relaxing a little. Spotting a Death Eater trying to creep towards them she darts to the side and sends a stunner his way, before turning around towards Ron… just in time to see him get hit with a flash of green light. She freezes.
“Ron? RON?!!!”
She runs towards him and falls to the ground, clutching him by the shoulders. “RON!! Ron come on, say something!! Reenervate!! Someone is shaking her but she ignores it. “Ron!!”
“Hermione! Hermione, come on, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”
She wakes up with a gasp, bolting upright, already scanning the room for threats, but the only one there is Ron. He is sitting up in bed next to her, a crease between his eyebrows as he scans her face, rubbing circles on her back. She forces herself to breathe slowly, trying to calm down. A quick wave of her wand tells her the time is 4:57 AM.
“Sorry,” she says with a wince.
Ron shakes his head at her, rolling his eyes slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. She’s just beginning to calm down when a slight creak from outside the room makes her bolt upright. Ron hears it too and he whirls around, grabbing his wand and staring at the corridor outside the room. He mutters a quick spell, and then relaxes.
“I know you’re there Harry.”
A sheepish looking Harry Potter shuffles into the doorway from where he has been lingering in the corridor. His hair is a mess, strands pointing in every direction, and his eyes are red.
“Err… sorry. I just couldn’t… uh. I’ll just head back.” He glances to the side, back towards his room down the hall.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Hermione’s voice is soft. She already knows the answer-- Harry hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep once since the battle. None of them have. It’s been a rough few weeks, and tonight seems to be especially bad. It’s understandable-- this is the night after Tonks and Remus’ funeral after all. She had her nightmare, it seems Harry had one too, and Ron… he’s acting like he’s fine as always, but his hair is far too neat, his pyjamas far too lacking in wrinkles. He’s suspiciously awake for someone who’s supposedly just woken up.
Harry is still standing uncomfortably in the doorway, and Ron and Hermione exchange a glance. Ron quietly suggests something to her, and she nods. She’d been thinking the same thing, thinking about those cold nights in the tent on the run when they all slept huddled next to each other in unzipped sleeping bags trying to keep each other sane.
She eyes Harry’s tense shoulders, his hand fisted tight around his wand and scoots over to the edge of the bed. “You can sleep here… if you want,” she offers. It always helped in the tent, helped all of them to have the constant assurance the others were safe.
His eyes widen and he stiffens, glancing at the bed and then at Hermione. “No, no, I’m ok.” Ron snorts at that, but Harry continues, “I don’t want to impose, I mean actually come to think of it that’d be really imposing of me, or on you, or you know what I mean, I mean, it was different in the tent, No, I can’t.” Harry’s always had a way with words.
Ron rolls his eyes with an excessive amount of force. “Mate, we hardly would have offered if it was an imposition. After all, when has Hermione Granger said anything she didn’t mean? We’ve just been through a bloody war, I think we all deserve a good night’s rest for once so quit your dithering and get in here.”
The aforementioned Hermione Granger glares at him for his extreme lack of tack, chewing him out internally-- honestly, Ron, you'd think you’d have expanded your emotional range after seven years--
But Harry is grinning, his posture relaxing. He sticks his tongue out at Ron and slides into the bed between the two of them, curling up with no further ado.
“What would I do without you?” He quips.
“Die in first year.” Hermione returns at the same time as Ron says, “Try to sue Dumbledore on the second day of school.”
Harry chokes on air for a second at Ron’s suggestion but recovers quickly. “Very interesting ideas. I think I’d commit arson on a match.”
“Doesn’t that just mean lighting a match? You know that’s what you’re supposed to do with matches right? It’s hardly arson. And why would you--”
“Let him have his fun Hermione.” Ron pats Harry on the shoulder faux-patronizingly and Harry snorts.
“If I’d known you were going to use this as an opportunity to relentlessly mock me I would never have entered this room,” he says huffily, while Hermione laughs.
There’s an undertone of tension to the whole interaction-- there always is when they’re having fun these days. They can’t help but think of all that they’ve lost, of all the reasons these moments are too far and too few, but by unspoken agreement they don't bring down the mood. Laughter is far too rare in these times for them to allow it to be ruined.
The three of them have a lot of work left to do. Tomorrow they have to finish repairing Grimmauld Place so that Harry isn’t sleeping on a hastily transfigured armchair. Soon there will be more funerals, more mourning. Soon there will be job interviews, applications, press… they will have to help build the Ministry from the ground up and make sure it’s done right this time. But for now, they can huddle close under the covers and get a few hours of sleep before the day breaks, taking with it a brief moment of peace in a world in pieces.
“Goodnight Ron, Goodnight Harry. Sleep well!”
“‘Night you two.”
“G’night!”
Hermione closes her eyes and lets herself drift, feeling the tension in her brow ease just a little bit in the knowledge that Ron and Harry are right next to her. As her breathing evens out and her eyes drift shut she wonders if maybe, just maybe, they’re going to be alright.