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“Get away from her! Take me instead!” Ron screamed but no words could be heard. He watched in horror as Hermione writhed on the floor, screaming in pain. His ears rang from the piercing sound.
Ron stirred in his sleep, and his arms began to flail uncontrollably as he tried and failed to wake himself from the nightmare.
The hand came down around his neck. Ron panicked and scrambled to pry the fingers away from around the man's throat. As hard as he tried to pull it away the hand just got tighter and the man seemed to get farther away from him while also becoming more detailed before his eyes. He could see Wormtail's eyes beginning to bulge out. Ron let out a silent scream. No one around him could hear him or help.
“Ron.”
With a jolt, Ron awoke, sweat pooling on his back. He looked around the room to figure out where he was. Bill and Fleur’s wedding photo resting on the mantle came into focus, bringing him back to reality. Shell Cottage. Safe. Before him was Hermione's concerned face.
“Ron, are you okay?” She repeated in a hushed tone as Ron lifted himself up from his camp bed. “You've been moving in your sleep.”
Ron rubbed his eye. Wormtail's face flashed in his mind’s eye, he opened his eyes again and shook his head violently. He inhaled, shuddering involuntarily. His chest tightened and he was convinced he'd never be able to let his breath out ever again. Hermione placed her hand on top of his and he felt the air escape his lips suddenly and all at once.
“It's okay,” whispered Hermione again, “I'm right here.” She held his hand between both of hers.
Panic continued to envelope Ron. His chest heaved as he desperately grasped for a full breath. Tears filled his eyes with another trembling gasp. Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron. The act made him feel better but didn't steady his breathing. “Let it out,” shushed Hermione, “I've got you. Let it all out. I'm here.”
Several minutes passed as Ron eventually dissolved into sobbing tears. Pettigrew’s cold eyes dimmed rapidly as he died, the scene flashing behind Ron’s lids every time he attempted to open his eyes. This only became a more pronounced problem as he yanked shuddering, wet, heaving breaths in through his uncooperative lungs. Hermione rubbed his back in soothing circles as he battled his traumatized body.
“Do you want to go outside?” She said as his breathing was beginning to steady. “A bit of fresh air can help.”
Ron nodded and swung his legs around, being careful not to hit Dean who was sleeping on the sofa near him. They both carefully stepped around the bed Harry was camped in as well as the love seat that housed a sleeping Luna. Ron looked back in the room briefly, amazed that his sobs and flailing hadn’t awakened their friends, until he realized that it was Hermione who was awake, which probably meant a sound dampening spell of some kind. Finding the door in the kitchen they exited into the back garden.
The salty air that surrounded Shell Cottage would have been a luxury under different circumstances but on this night it merely felt suffocating to Ron. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into a sobbing mess of a ball on the floor, but the only reason he didn't was because he knew the events of yesterday would just play incessantly in his head again. Hermione's tortured screams filled his ears, deafening him to the soft words she spoke as they found a seat looking out at the water. His eyes became glazed and unfocused as Fenrir's hungry smile filled his vision.
“Ron.” She sounded like she was a million miles away. “Ron?” He winced and returned back to his body. Hermione was looking at him, concerned. “Ron, can you hear me?”
“Wh- what? Er Y-yeah,” managed Ron, blinking hard. His mouth was so dry.
“I can't sleep either,” said Hermione, wrapping her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “There's just so much that's happened.”
Ron sat looking at her. He wanted her to continue talking, he wanted--no, he desperately needed-- to hear her voice.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She turned to look at him. Her brown eyes shone softly in the moonlight. How did it take him so many years to appreciate their beauty?
“I- It,” Ron's voice caught in his throat, “it was Wormtail. He was killed in front of us while Harry and I were trying to get you away from the Death Eaters.” He chose to leave the details out, she didn't need that image.
“That must have been really terrible.”
They sat in an almost comfortable silence for a moment. Ron continued to try to blink the picture away from his eyes. It would not leave him alone. Peter Pettigrew's mousy eyes, cold and empty looking to him as he ran up the stairs to escape. There was nothing we could have done to help him. Maybe I should have tried harder though, we could have saved him. No, there was nothing to be done, Hermione needed me.
Hermione's head touched his arm, snapping him back to himself. She rested her head against his shoulder, fingers laced with his as she hugged his arm. Ron's body relaxed into her. He looked down to her while she stared out at the inky blackness of the sea. He thought about what he would have done if he had lost her. That drumming and terrifying thought only brought more tears to his eyes.
Brown curls brushed his face as she looked up to him. She ran her thumbs softly under his eyes to dry his tears causing his skin to shudder under her touch. “Hey,” she cooed, reading his mind. “I'm right here. I'm okay. You saved me.” Relief flooded him and more uncontrolled tears came down. Ron held Hermione tight and sobbed into her hair.
“I almost lost you.”
“But you didn't,” she stated reassuringly and quietly, giving him a chance to simply breathe her in, which meant that he could feel his lungs stutter in protest as he did so. She rested her head into its spot on his arm once more.
They held each other as Ron slowly regained control of his ragged sobs, eventually the only sounds to be heard in the distance were the waves crashing against the beach and the distant caws of birds that were beginning their pre-dawn rituals. He heard a quiet sniff.
“Hey,” said Ron, pulling away to face Hermione. “Only one of us can cry at a time. It's my turn.”
Hermione chuckled, wiping her face with the sleeve of her pajamas. “You don't get a monopoly on emotions, Ronald Weasley.”
“Oh you wanna bet?” Ron felt the tension in his shoulders lessen. He missed joking with her. It had been months since he had seen her smile, even one as small as this. “I'm claiming it now. I am the only person allowed to cry on this beautiful morning. All others must stop or face punishment.” A chuckle escaped him. The face of Wormtail beginning to fade from his thoughts with this new distraction.
She seemed about to laugh when her face broke. “Oh god Ron, I missed you.” Her eyes spilled the tears they were holding in.
Acting instinctively he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into his chest. He tried to pour all the unspoken emotion into this embrace. She would never understand how much he had missed her. Never understand how sorry he was for leaving. How much he regretted that action made in anger and jealousy. Or how miserable he was with the angry silence between them.
They held each other a moment, the only sounds to break their silence being an occasional sniff or shaky breath. Ron ran his fingers down her plated hair while Hermione twirled the fabric of his shirt sleeve between her fingers. Neither ready to look at the other.
It was Ron who broke the silence. “Hermione?”
She pulled away so she could see his face. “What is it?”
Ron gazed down at her. She looked so beautiful under the moonlight. Her hair fell into her face in wisps causing a halo around her face. He wanted nothing but to sweep her into his arms and kiss her right there. With that thought came the looming presence of the war they found themselves the centerpiece to. This was not the time to distract from the task at hand. They had to make and follow through on plans to break into Gringott's Bank. Now was not the time for romance.
“I am sorry for leaving you,” said Ron, feeling a new wave of tears fill his vision.
Hermione smiled and rested her head back down against his chest. “I think we’re even now.”
Ron's stomach filled with butterflies. He placed his chin back on top of her head and continued running his hand down her long braid, savoring this quiet moment while he could. Tomorrow they began planning a heist and a way to end this war that was dividing them. They both knew that they were going to have to face an uncertain future, whether they won the war or not. But this moment between them was enough.