A/N: Written for the QLFC Reserve League 2.0

Season 7 Round 9: Long Live (the) Queen

Keeper prompt: Under Pressure

Lyric used: It's the terror of knowing what this world is about

Word count (before A/N): 2,685 words

Thank you to the lovely Arty (The Lady Arturia) for beta-ing for me!

The sheets on Ron's bed twisted around his legs, tangling about his limbs like a patch of Devil's Snare. He kicked at them until finally free, the blue cotton falling softly to the floor.

He sat up. Sweat soaked through the collar of his orange Chudley Cannons pyjama top. He'd outgrown it a few years back, the smooth lines of his stomach jutting out from under the fabric, but he wanted to wear it anyway. The neatly stitched 'CC' emblazoned on the front reminded him of simpler times, and he figured he could use a little bit of nostalgia tonight of all nights.

But a silly t-shirt wasn't enough to push the nightmares away.

Ron swallowed hard, willing his breathing to steady and his heart to slow. He had a bad nightmare, that much he knew, but he was having trouble piecing any of it together now that he was awake.

All he could remember was a blinding flash of green light.

Honestly, he didn't need to know much else to understand what happened after that.

Ron shook his head. It was his nerves getting to him, surely. They were going to get Harry tomorrow, the thirteen of them. Mad-Eye's idea. Ron understood it was merely a precaution, a decoy to throw Snape and the other Death Eaters off their trail. In all likelihood, nothing bad would happen at all. They'd planned and re-planned it. They had seven Portkeys and seven safehouses ready to go. They had some of the best damn Aurors and wizards Ron had ever known on their side, too.

Everything would be fine.

But…

Ron still felt the weight of it pressing down on him. There was a lot to remember, a lot to get right, and no matter which way he looked at it, taking on Harry's face was like painting a glaring red target on his back that said, "Come and Get Me!"

Ron sighed. Dangerous though it may be, he was still going to do it. For Harry. For wizarding kind. Now he just needed to turn off the doubts and fears crowding his subconscious, and everything would be. Just. Fine.

He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor with a thump. Leaning over, Ron gathered the mess of sheets he'd kicked off in his sleep and tossed them back onto the mattress. Then, as quietly as he could, he crept toward his bedroom door.

He'd get some water, clear his head, and go back to sleep.

As stealthily as he could, Ron tip-toed his way down the five flights of stairs toward the kitchen, all the while being mindful of the creaky spots along the floor. When he was little, Fred and George had insisted on finding every single loosened floorboard and creaky stair. They had placed little pieces of red spell-o-tape across the wooden planks to mark each noisy spot until they had them all memorized. At the time, Ron thought the whole idea was useless—why would he ever need to sneak around his own home?—but he felt grateful for it now.

As he passed Ginny's room, he heard a light thump from behind the door and froze. Both Hermione and Ginny should have been in there sleeping, the former having been at the Burrow for about a week now. Ron waited to see if either would emerge, but there was no second sound. So, Ron continued on his way.

Briefly, he considered igniting the oil lamps in the kitchen but then thought against it. He didn't really feel like sitting in an empty room surrounded by flickering shadows. It was better to pour himself a glass of water in the dark and get back to bed.

With glass in hand, Ron took the steps back upstairs two at a time. As he mounted the final step onto the second floor landing, however, he heard another thump. His eyes immediately landed on Ginny's bedroom door.

Along the crevices of the doorframe poured a pale blue light.

Ron pursed his lips in thought. On one hand, he knew without a doubt that Hermione had created that blue light. One of her little bluebell flames, no doubt. She must be awake, too. But on the other hand, he wasn't about to open his sister's bedroom door at bloody one in the morning without cause.

He took a sip of water.

Hermione surely wouldn't mind him checking in on her, would she? He could feel his face heating up at the thought of her nestled under the comforter, her eyes watching him as a little ball of light danced around their heads.

But Ginny was in there, too, and while Ron knew something was finally blossoming between him and Hermione, he really didn't want to deal with his sister's teasing over it.

Or her wrath if he woke her up.

He took another sip of water.

Suddenly, Ginny's bedroom door swung open. The glass of water still pressed to Ron's lips went tumbling out of his hand in surprise, spilling cold water down his front. The cup however, remained floating in midair.

Hermione stood in the doorway, her wand extended in front of her as she guided the cup back into Ron's waiting hand.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Hermione's eyebrow quirked upward. "What for?" she whispered. "I'm the one who startled you."

"Then I'm—not sorry?"

She smiled at him, her face illuminated by the bluebell flame hovering over her shoulder.

"Just get in here already!" Ginny half-whispered, half-shouted from inside. Hermione nodded toward the inside of the room, and Ron followed.

"What are you wearing?" Ginny asked after Hermione shut the door. His sister was seated cross-legged on her bed, an identical bluebell flame hovering near her own face. Arnold the Pygmy Puff slept curled in the messy blankets jumbled at her feet, his fur puffing with each breath.

Ron pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, but that did nothing to cover up the bottom of his torso. The entire front was soaked through now, and he could feel his whole body heating up as the girls' eyes ran over his appearance. He couldn't very well tell them why he'd chosen that particular shirt; it was embarrassing enough to be caught in it.

"Nothing else was clean," he said indignantly, his face burning now.

Ginny snorted.

"What're you two doing up anyway?" Ron wrapped his free arm around his stomach, hoping it covered him better.

A warm hand circled around his wrist. "Couldn't sleep," Hermione said, her eyes staring up into his. She was so close, he could see the fear hiding behind her eyes. Gently, Hermione slid her hand from his wrist to the back of his knuckles, until it finally rested against the empty glass still dangling from his fingers. He let her take it.

The room grew colder as Hermione stepped away, placing his empty glass on top of Ginny's dresser. She crossed the room to her cot and sat down on the edge, her bare feet moving against the floor in distracted circles. Ron wasn't sure what to do now. Both girls seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, with Ginny picking at the fuzzy edges of her blanket, her eyes staring aimlessly toward Arnold. Hermione, on the other hand, had that same far-off look on her face she'd get when she was thinking through a complex Arithmancy problem.

Ron broke the silence. "How'd you know it was me?"

Ginny and Hermione stared at him blankly, their heads snapping in attention at the same time as if they'd forgotten they invited him in in the first place. Hermione pulled her wand back out and sent a third bluebell flame to hover near his shoulder.

"Come sit," she said, sending a second spell his way. Instantly, his clothes heated, the spilled water drying completely.

Ron took a tentative step forward, and the floorboards creaked beneath his weight. A small smile played at his lips; apparently, Fred and George failed to spell-o-tape the bedrooms.

He quickly made the rest of the way over to Hermione's cot and sat beside her. Her thigh pressed against his.

Ron swallowed.

"We heard you clomping around downstairs in the dark," Ginny answered. "No idea how you got down there without making a sound, but once you were, it was obvious."

"How?"

"You talk to yourself," Hermione chuckled lightly. "Under your breath."

"Glass of water, go to bed." Ginny lowered her voice in a mock attempt to sound like him. "Should I turn the lights on? No, no. Too creepy."

The girls laughed quietly.

"I don't do that!"

"Sure you do," Ginny said.

"All the time."

"Bloody annoying," Ginny teased.

"It's ador—" Hermione cleared her throat. "It's not—annoying. It's not annoying."

Hermione quickly folded her hands into her lap, her eyes staring down at her interlaced fingers. Ron wasn't sure, but it looked like Hermione's cheeks darkened slightly under the glow of the bluebell flame. He could feel the heat of her body through the leg of his flannel pyjama pants. He could feel her breathe beside him.

She glanced at him quickly as if she knew he was staring. In the blue light, he could see a shy smile play at her lips. Ron gently nudged her with his shoulder, hoping she would look at him fully. Instead, he was presently surprised to feel her lean her body into his, their hips and thighs pressing together gently, her own shoulder nestled up to his side. Suddenly, it didn't matter that he muttered nonsense to himself when he was alone.

"Anyways…" Ginny cleared her throat. "Why are you up?"

It took a lot of effort, but Ron forced himself to look away from Hermione. He wanted nothing more than to memorize every detail. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her dark lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked in the pale blue light. The subtle twitch of her jaw as she bit at her lip. Being this close to her felt like standing on the sun.

"What?" he asked Ginny.

She gave him a knowing look. "You. Why are you awake?"

"Nightmare."

"What about?" Hermione asked, her head finally lifting again.

"I don't actually remember," he said slowly. "I couldn't piece it together after. I just know it was bloody awful." Then he added, "I think it's nerves."

"Do you think it'll be okay?" Ginny asked. But both Ron and Hermione let her question hang in the air.

They'd been thinking this, too, of course, and the scary part was that they wouldn't know until they did it. Until they had Harry safe at the Burrow with them.

"Mad-Eye is confident in this plan. We wouldn't be going to this extent of preparation if he didn't think it necessary," Hermione finally said, her voice so matter-of-fact that Ron believed every word. Until she turned to him and asked, "Right?"

"Yeah," he said automatically. But he didn't really feel like it was the right thing to say.

Across from them, Ginny sighed. "I think I'd feel better knowing he'd be staying here after you lot risk your lives to get him."

"Gin—"

"No, Hermione," she snapped. The bluebell flame swung violently around Ginny's head, as if sensing her sudden sour mood. Ron had a sinking feeling he had walked into an argument the two girls had already been having since Hermione showed up at the Burrow.

Ginny's eyes darted between the pair of them. "I know you're up to something. Hell, Mum knows you're up to something. It—this isn't fair! Why can't you tell me what's going on?"

She looked directly at Ron. I'm your sister," and now at Hermione, "and your friend. And I'm his—I was his—oh, hell! Doesn't matter what I am, I love him just as much as either of you!"

Ron watched as her resolve finally broke and tears streamed down her face, the blue light making them look like little drops of ice. Hermione was at her side in an instant. She shot Ron a look to join her in comforting Ginny, but he wasn't sure what to do. Tentatively, he pushed himself off Hermione's cot and took a seat on the other side of his sister.

Watching Ginny fall apart stung. Because of course his sister loved Harry like he and Hermione did. Logically, Ron knew she probably loved him a lot deeper than he or, hopefully, Hermione ever would, too. Keeping their mission a secret had been hard enough with his mum on his tail, trying to get information or keeping him so busy he couldn't think. But keeping it from Ginny felt even worse. These last few months, the four of them had spent so much time together, and Ron knew Harry had never looked so healthy and happy as he did when he was with Ginny.

But he broke up with her. Ron hated seeing Ginny's pain, and on principle, he wholeheartedly blamed Harry. But Ron also understood why it had to be like this. To keep her safe.

"We'd tell you if we could, Ginny," he started. She shot him a look so filled with hate and indignation, Ron almost ran right out of her room.

"Honest," he continued. "But that would put you in danger. This is so much bigger than… than…"

"Than blindly running into the Department of Mysteries," Hermione finished. "This is so much more than a silly stone or an unleashed basilisk or a wizarding tournament."

"This is everything," Ron continued. "Everything is going to be on the line after tomorrow."

"It's the terror of knowing what this world is about, of knowing there will be tremendous sacrifices to be made, and still waking up to face it." Hermione wrapped her arm around Ginny's waist. The tips of Hermione's knuckles brushed the bare skin of Ron's stomach, and he wasn't sure if it was the reality of her words or her fingertips sending shivers through his body.

"And you know Harry." Ron shook off the goosebumps tickling his arms. "He's not going to willingly let others get hurt for him."

"You're both going to be there." Ginny wiped at her eyes.

"Well, we're bloody stupid."

"Ron!"

"Hermione, we thought we could take on a full-grown mountain troll at age eleven. Our good judgement left us long ago."

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted to say, that it was his fault she was in danger in the first place, that they still made it through, that they had better sense than all that.

Between them, Ginny chuckled.

"You know," she said, voice still thick with tears, "Mum and Dad used to sit just like this when I was little and something upset me."

"Me too," Ron nudged her gently.

"It's nice." Her gaze fell to Ron's shirt, the stitched-on 'CC' staring back. Ginny smiled sadly. "You do this for Harry, too?"

"Yeah right."

"Like he'd let us."

All three laughed. Ginny wiped at her eyes one last time. "Well, I'm thoroughly embarrassed."

"Don't be." Ron felt Hermione squeeze his sister into a quick hug. "We're all under this massive amount of pressure right now. It's just…"

"Pressing down on us all." Ron wrapped his own arm around them both now as best he could and pulled them into a group hug on the edge of Ginny's bed. "But we'll be okay. That much I know."

After that, Ron stayed a few minutes more before deciding he should try to sleep. The next day was bound to be a big one, even though Ron was positive they'd be just fine. He bid the girls good night and shut the door, letting the bluebell flame light the way back to his bedroom. Once there, Ron settled onto the mattress, his sheets neatly folded over his entire body.

His eyes closed slowly, the weight of tomorrow dissipating as his eyelids fell shut.

Yeah, they'd be just fine.