I know I should be working on the final chapter of GW&ED and it should be done within the month. I was on vacation this week and got inspired. My inspiration came threefold: 1) The last chapter of Enigma's Diary had a moment with Ron and Hermione. I miss writing them. They are the most amazing couple and pair of characters in my opinion. 2) The cover version of Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" done by Greg Laswell. It is so hauntingly beautiful and reflects Ron's emotions so perfectly. 3) Wazlib88 has done some one shots by request on her tumblr. She is one of the best authors on this site and if you haven't read anything by her, you are definitely missing out! I've been stalking her on tumblr and everything she has written this week has been fantastic.

Anyway, I hope this can measure up. It's pretty 'angsty' and overdramatic, but that's some of the defining characteristics of romione to me.

The works of J.K. Rowling, Kate Bush, and Greg Laswell do not belong to me. Artwork is not mine either. It belongs to Mary Dreams. Cry. Me. A. River.

Pray God you can cope.

I stand outside this woman's work,

This woman's world.

Ooh, it's hard on the man,

Now his part is over.

Now starts the craft of the father.

Give me these moments back.

Give them back to me.

Give me that little kiss.

Give me your hand.

I know you have a little life in you yet.

I know you have a lot of strength left.

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.

I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things we should've said, that were never said

All the things we should've done, that we never did.

All the things that you needed from me.

All the things that you wanted for me.

All the things that I should've given, but I didn't

Oh, darling, make it go away.

Just make it go away now.

It seemed that there was no rest for a Weasley. After being squeezed through the suffocating tube of apparition, he nearly choked on the sea salt air that filled his lungs. With all the determination he could muster he had focused on his destination. He always forgot that final "D". Hermione would have scolded him if she weren't unconscious. He was gulping in air and fear. The only "D" he could think of at the moment was "desperation". He had to get up. His knees had sunk into the moist sand but he found it easy to drag himself to his feet. Hermione was far too light. It was almost as if her very weight and essence were already halfway between this plane and the next. This was not how he had imagined finally being able to hold her; with her bleeding out in his arms.

"I know you're strong enough, 'Mione. Just hold on a bit longer."

He scrambled up the next hill. The purple sky was still dark. There was a single light coming from the kitchen that served as his beacon to safety. He had just reached the front porch when his oldest brother opened the door.

"What in Merlin's name? Fleur! Come quickly!"

His veela sister-in-law came into view behind her husband, clutching her silk robe at her chest.

"Mon dieu! Qu'est-elle devenue? Bring 'er inside now!"

He rushed up the stairs two at a time. Fleur directed him to the guest room he had stayed in those long months. Carefully laying her in the bed, he could finally take in her appearance. She was far too pale and her breathing far too shallow. Her right arm was bright red and wet with fresh blood. Fleur had pulled her wand from her robe and began to conjure a healing charm on it. She was covered in bits of glass from the chandelier that he had failed to rescue her from in time. He had failed multiple times lately.

He finally willed himself to ask the questions he wasn't sure he wanted answered.

"Is she going to be alright? Can you heal her?"

He didn't miss the grim look his sister-in-law gave Bill. His brother gripped his shoulder and pulled him away out of the room.

"Here… let's go get you cleaned up. Fleur will take care of her. We don't want to get in her way."

He numbly nodded his head and drifted toward the bathroom. Bill was staring at him uneasily while he handed him a flannel to wash up.

"Is it just you two? Anyone else? Harry?"

In his haste to deliver Hermione to safety, he had completely forgotten Harry.

"They should have followed us." Bill nodded in reply and made his way outside.

He just kept messing up. Hermione would have chastised him for disregarding their mission. They needed to find the horcruxes at any cost. Hadn't they agreed on it during that first sleepless night at Grimmauld Place? Well, they had agreed on staying together no matter what too, but he had broken his word. He had resolved to keep his promises on his return, but her life was too high a price to pay for bits of Voldemort's soul. She was far too precious.

He had only realized that he loved her during the nearly two months he had been apart from her. They had been separated before, but the chasm had been too wide this time. There was no way for him to reach her. But then he was in her presence again and his hope was ignited anew. It was more than just a passing fancy; more than reading a book to learn how to charm her. Looking back, he wouldn't have even known how to handle her if she had somehow been charmed. He wouldn't have been able to walk in her world. She was larger than life. Her passion both overwhelmed him and thrilled him. He felt as if he was always a fine line away from losing his sanity when he was around her. That was the reason he picked fights with her. To have all of her directed at him made his heart pound at an entirely new pace. But now he regretted it all.

There was too much left unsaid; too much left undone. War made a person think about their life with stark clarity— the past, present, and future were viewed in a different light. He had a whole life left to spend with Hermione Granger and he refused to believe that this was the end of hers. She would not die tonight.

There was nothing but darkness before him without the Brightest Witch of their age to shine the light.

He felt bile rise in his throat as he looked down at his palms. They were sticky with her old blood. He frantically scrubbed his hands, but the pressure was reopening the scabs that had formed under his fingernails. Fresh blood began to flow again from his fingertips. Why hadn't they taken him instead? He had begged them. That was his duty— he was supposed to be the pawn. He had promised himself that he would protect Harry and Hermione with his last breath. How come he was still breathing and she was gasping for air in the other room?

He was shaking so violently that he had to grip the sink for support. His reflection glared back at him. He prayed to Merlin, Dumbledore, and all the dearly departed wizards ("and witches" his inner voice that sounded remarkably like Hermione chimed in) that she would be alright.

The mirror shattered. It was his first slip of accidental magic since the age of eight when he had made the twins' noses grow out three feet because they had teased him about his own long nose. Taking deep calming breaths, he cast "reparo" hastily. The shattered pieces flew back together, but his heart still lay in shards.

Finally able to stem the bloodflow from his fingers, he splashed water on his face. He was going to stay strong for her. He was not going to cry. He left the bathroom to pace in front of the guest bedroom. The door was closed and he assumed Fleur had cast a silencing charm on the room. He didn't know how long he waited outside, but the sun had begun to rise; its rays stretching down the carpeted hallway. The door eventually opened revealing his haggard looking sister-in-law.

"I just gave 'er a sleeping draught. Eet looks like she will pull through. She eez very weak."

"Can I see her?"

She paused to contemplate his request. She seemed genuinely torn until she fixed him with a look that would make his Mum proud.

"Oui, you may see 'er. But she needs rest. Eet is the only way she will get well."

"Of course! I promise!" he replied fiercely. He entered the room. A single lamp cast the room in an orange glow. Hermione looked clean and relaxed. Her hair was fanned around her on the pillow. Her skin was still too pale for his liking, but her breathing appeared more normal. She looked so tiny and fragile. She reminded him of one of Ginny's dolls that she had when she was small. Her chocolate brown eyes fell on him.

"Ron."

It was her voice. It was the sound that had woken him from his despair of ever finding them. It was the match that had set his hope aflame. She was alive and he could breathe again. He was at her bedside in an instant.

"You alright?" he whispered.

His fingers were inches from hers, but he was scared that one touch would break her.

She nodded faintly, "I will be."

Her right arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. She groaned when she made to move it.

"Hey… shhhh… don't move," his hand found hers on top of the blankets. "Just close your eyes and sleep."

Her eyes slowly slipped shut, but she managed to murmur, "You'll be here when I wake?"

He squeezed her hand softly and sniffled the happy tears he couldn't keep at bay.

"Yeah… I'll be here."