Alright, my newest fanfic! I don't exactly know where I'm going with the storyline, but we'll see :) Also, this is my first time writing M-rated kind of scenes, so I'm sorry if it's bad, and if so, please tell me so I can fix it! I'm also trying to be tasteful here.

Enjoy! xx

"Just open up to me, Hermione, for Merlin's sake. Let me comfort you. Let me feel like I can actually do something for you."

"Oh, so this is all about you now, is it, Ronald?"

"You know bloody well that's not what I meant."

Ron's last words where followed by the sound of a slamming door and Ron's heavy footsteps pounding down the stairwell and away from her. It was the first night that Ron and Hermione had been alone since the war, and what had begun as a relaxing and special occasion had quickly turned into one filled with hurt and anger – with one of the couples' regular rows. Molly and Arthur had taken Percy out to dinner, deciding now was a good time to begin to get to know their son again. George was staying at Angelina's tonight, the pair seeing more and more of each other since the war and the loss of Fred, finding comfort and laughter in each other's company. Harry had taken Ginny out for a romantic dinner, knowing full well that Ron and Hermione both wanted and needed their space. And now that had all been ruined, simply because Ron had wanted to talk about how Hermione was coping. Sufficed to say, he thought he was doing the gentlemanly thing.

Storming down the stairs, Ron was fuming. He was only trying to help Hermione. He understood that she might not want to talk about her own emotional problems because she felt like he was suffering enough at the moment, but he imagined this relationship to be a little more about sharing and a little less on independency. He was sick of Hermione being the strong, dependable one around him all the time. He wanted to be the shoulder she cried on, the one who held her while she sobbed and eased her pain, even if only a little bit. He didn't want her running off to Harry or Ginny all the time, thinking he had enough on his plate. It was his job and his wish to make room for her, and that's what he was doing – she just wasn't filling that space. So he'd tried to discuss it with her, and she'd blown up at him, in true Hermione fashion. And he'd responded in kind, in even truer Ron fashion.

Ron made it out the front door and headed toward the old and wonky tree standing haphazardly in the yard. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath he rested both hands on the thick bough that stretched just above his head, before pulling himself up. He climbed only a little further before settling in his favourite spot, where two braches crossed over very close to the trunk to form a seat. Breathing deeply and trying not to sink into the dark place that he had banished himself from for so long, he closed his eyes.

OoOoO

Hermione watched Ron's receding back with regret. She knew he was only trying to help her overcome some of the hurt she'd been attempting to mend in him in the past few weeks, but she felt like a burden. It felt safer running to Harry and Ginny when she felt the tears well in her eyes, because between the two of them they could share her pain. She didn't want to deposit it all on Ron, when he had enough to deal with himself. They'd stayed up late at night over the past few weeks, talking through Ron's guilt over leaving her and Harry on their hunt, and over not being able to save Fred during the war. She was somewhat surprised when he had let his tears fall and the sobs he'd been keeping inside so long to wrack his chest, but she thought it was good for him. And it showed her just how much he cared. For her, for Harry, and for everyone.

She'd spoiled their evening together, she knew it. He'd stormed off because she'd snapped at him, when in fact she knew he was doing to kind-hearted and loving thing in asking whether she was alright. And now he'd stormed down the stairs and away from her. Suddenly it struck her just how similar this situation was to the time he left just before the war; they'd been a fight because Ron was feeling excluded, and he'd left. But, surely he'd come back this time, wouldn't he? He wouldn't storm out of his own house and not return? Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest, sweat breaking out across her top lip, and she was scared. Scared that she would never see Ron again.

She hurled herself at the door, grasping the handle and putting her full force behind it. She hardly heard the heavy wood slam into the wall behind it as she clattered down the staircase, her breath coming in short and frequent gasps. She finally found herself in the sweeping backyard, the grass freshly shortened only the day before. Unaware of the tears rolling down her cheeks, she began to call Ron's name in the red light of the sunset, running over the grass toward the back fence. Seeing no one, she couldn't help but sink to her knees and press the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Ron," she repeated to herself, until it became a near-silent prayer.

OoOoO

When the sound of Hermione running into the yard drew Ron from his self-pitying reverie, he opened his eyes and watched her search frantically for him. Sitting up straighter, his eyes creased in concern as he watched her sob, eventually falling to her knees not far from the base of the tree in which he sat. He climbed hurriedly out of his seat and dropped the last metre to reach the ground before setting off at a run toward her. Apparently she wasn't aware of his presence because she stayed where she was, whispering his name over and over again. He put his hand on her back, kneeling beside her, and felt her jump.

"'Mione, I'm not leaving. Oh god, I didn't know you'd think that… I'm sorry," he said frantically, trying to get her to calm her breathing.

Turning and rising to her knees, she threw her arms around him and sobbed into his neck, holding him so tightly he was finding it difficult to draw breath.

"Oh god, Ron, I thought you were l-leaving me again," she said breathlessly, "I thought you were gone and it was all my f-fault."

"It's not your fault. I promised you after that time, I would never leave you again. I'll stick by that promise Hermione, and you need to believe it."

Nodding, Hermione sank a little in his arms, emotionally exhausted, and said, "It is my fault. I didn't let you in. I thought it would be best for us, but I think that plan was a bit of a mistake."

Ron chuckled then, relieved that Hermione had come to realise that he was just trying to do the right thing. He hugged her tightly and felt her hands tighten on the back of his shirt in response. Pulling back slightly, he took in her tear stained face and ran the back of one hand over her cheek, feeling it pull slightly on the damp surface. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into him.

"How 'bout we go upstairs and talk about what's going on with you, yeah?" he suggested, hoping against hope that she would accept so they could start figuring this out.

She nodded and he rose, pulling her with him and into the house. He led her by the hand to his room, and she sank onto his bed, laying her head on his pillow and pulling her hair out of her way. He lay beside her and rose up on one elbow to rest his head in one cradled palm. He wanted to hear and see everything; to really listen to what she elected to share with him. He'd take anything she offered; lately he had just felt like there was an emotional door that had closed between them, and he'd do anything to fling that door open. They were close, and now it was all up to her.

OoOoO

Hermione owed this to Ron, she could see that now. He wanted so desperately to help her, and she needed to make things right between them, to put a stop to this ever-growing emotional distance between them that she herself had created. She looked up at him, his face earnest and loving, and she knew he would be there for her no matter what. And she also knew that she wanted him to be. Needed him to be. So she drew in a deep and shuddering breath and began.

"First of all, I'm worried about my parents. I still can't believe they're living on the other side of the world and have no idea I even exist, and that I'm their daughter," she said, hastily brushing a stray tear from her face, "And there's a little part of me that doesn't want to go to Australia and restore their memories. That part of me doesn't want to face them again, doesn't want to see how angry and hurt they're going to be. And I also know they'll try to persuade me to stay in Australia with them, which obviously I don't want to do. Of course I love them and I want them back, I just… don't want to face it right now."

Ron smoothed some hair back off her forehead and nodded before saying, "I get that. Maybe you don't have to face it right now. Focus on mending yourself first before you think about restoring their memories. As long as doing that isn't going to make you feel guilty, it's probably the best option. That way when you do go to them, you'll be one hundred percent happy that you're there."

Hermione smiled at Ron's response. It was mature and well thought out, and she appreciated it. She also agreed with him, which was extraordinary in itself. He understood her and she knew that his suggestion was the best option for her, and for the first time in a long time she could freely make the decision based on that factor alone.

"What else?" asked Ron in a whisper, evidently hoping she would share a bit more.

"I'm worried about you and your family, and Harry. We all went through so much that it just seems like it might never actually end. What if this thing just rules our lives forever and Harry can never escape it? And what happens if your family stays just as involved and keeps getting hurt? It's too hard to watch, Ron."

This time Ron looked as though he was close to tears, but they were blinked away and Ron sought to reassure her.

"That won't happen, 'Mione. Most of the Death Eaters have been rounded up now, and more are getting caught every day. I can't promise you something similar won't happen in the future, but for now at least, we're safe. And we'll get through this, I know we will."

Hermione was glad Ron hadn't tried to convince her that nothing would ever hurt her again. She was sick of hearing people say that now that Voldemort had been destroyed no one would be harmed by dark wizards in the future – it was an unrealistic claim that only caused Hermione to worry more. Ron knew her well enough not to dumb things down just because she was feeling insecure; he told her the truth, and tried to comfort her because of it. He didn't treat her like a child and try and protect her from the dangers that life presented them. Hermione thought that Ron grew out of that quite some time ago.

"I can tell there's something else," Ron continued, "Something big."

Hermione knew he'd figure it out. There was something else bothering her, and it was something big. It was also something she hadn't shared with Harry or Ginny. This thing had been eating her up inside for the past however many months, and she wanted it out.

"I haven't told anyone else about this, because I know no one can do anything to help. But… I want to tell you," Hermione said, tears beginning to well in her eyes, "It's the reason I've been wearing long sleeved shirts all summer, even though it's so bloody hot."

Ron sat up as Hermione rolled back the left sleeve on her shirt, revealing the place where Bellatrix had scrawled that foul word upon her arm. But now it wasn't just a scar; it was red and raw, with the marks left by Hermione's own fingernails making it more pronounced. There was fresh blood there, as well as scabs where older cuts were healing. Tears were coursing down Hermione's face by now.

"I just c-can't stop having nightmares about her t-torturing me," Hermione sobbed, "And then I wake up and there's blood e-everywhere. So I try not sleeping b-but I can't because I'm just so tired so I fall asleep and she's there again and she j-just won't leave!"

Hermione continued to ramble into Ron's shoulder, having fallen into his embrace, and mumble words he couldn't quite understand. Tears stung his eyes and his heart broke a little at the thought of Hermione waking up scared every night in Ginny's room with her arm bleeding and images of Bellatrix fleeing her mind with no one to run to. He decided there and then it wouldn't happen anymore.

"Well, from now on you'll be sleeping in my room so I can find a way to make it stop."

OoOoO

Hermione looked up at Ron through puffy eyes, grateful for the way he had actively made the decision for her to stay in his room. Usually she would argue that being her boyfriend did not provide him with an excuse to make decisions on her behalf, but this time, she was glad. For the few weeks they had been back at the Burrow since the war, she had been waking up nightly in Ginny's room, just as she had described to Ron; bleeding and terrified. Most nights Ginny's bed was empty – she had taken to sharing long walks with Harry at ungodly hours because Molly wouldn't usually let them spend time alone when she was awake – or she was sound asleep and Hermione felt bad waking her. Now, maybe, there would be some respite for her.

"That would be good," Hermione sniffled, "But your mum is never going to agree to it, you and I both know that."

"I'll have a talk to her tomorrow," Ron said, kissing the top of her head tenderly, "I'm sick of all this sneaking around and hiding. There'll be more chance she'll agree if I'm honest with her."

Again, Hermione was glad it was Ron, in this case, making the decisions. She let him. All she felt at the moment was weak, small and afraid. And for once since the war began, she succumbed to those feelings. The ones she'd endeavoured to hide from everyone – including herself – so that she wouldn't let herself lose it.

"So… I don't have to talk to her?" she whispered.

"I can tell you don't want to," Ron said, hitting the spot yet again, "Plus, she's going to go all mushy and motherly anyway, but if you're not there at the time at least I'll get a straight answer out of her."

Hermione felt as though she could breathe a little easier now, and tightened her grip on Ron's shoulders, thankful that she had him. Ron looked down at her, his gaze full of love and an urgent need to protect her, which had come back full force today rather than sitting somewhere behind his eyes like it had since Voldemort's death. She lifted her head off his shoulder to kiss him soundly on the lips, and he moved one hand to the nape of her neck, tangled in her hair, to deepen the kiss. Something unspoken was passing between them; a knowledge that they both wanted and needed to be physically close to each other at this moment. Hermione gasped as Ron's hand found the gap between her long sleeved shirt and her pyjama shorts, caressing and squeezing the skin there. She ran her hands down the length of his arms, feelings the muscle beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and tugged on its hem.

When they broke apart to catch their breath, Hermione said, "Take off my shirt Ron. I feel like I can't breathe."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise, knowing she had never taken off her shirt in front of him before. His hands went to the bottom of his own first, and he stripped off, obviously to make her a little more comfortable. Although Hermione had seen him in this state of undress before, it meant something more tonight. Now Ron's hand settled on the bottom of her shirt, feeling tight and restricting in the heat, and she nodded in response to his gaze. He went slowly, not taking his eyes off hers until the rising fabric obscured her face, and then it was off and his eyes were still there, staring at hers. She knew it was taking all of his self-control not to let them wander all over her torso, bare except for her bra, and she'd never felt more respected.

Despite herself, she giggled and said, "You can look, you know."

"Thank Merlin," Ron said, before dropping his gaze to her chest.

His eyes immediately darkened and she could tell, being in such close proximity, that his pants had tightened. She, however, had no more time for conscious thought because he reached out with one hand and cupped her through her bra, squeezing gently. Closing her eyes, she felt him pull away the fabric covering her left breast and her nipple tightened as he closed it within his finger and thumb, rolling and pinching it until her breathing was heavy and laboured. She hardly noticed when Ron unclasped her bra at the back and drew it off her shoulders, and clutched him tightly when he dropped his face to take each nipple into his mouth in turn. To her surprise, the sound of her own moans sounded foreign to her, but she was glad they were spurring him on.

He lifted his face back to hers, kissing her softly and laying her down on the bed so that he was above her, their bodies perfectly aligned. Her arms slackened around his neck and she let them drop onto the mattress on either side of her head. Hermione saw Ron pause to inspect the inside of her left forearm, his fingers gently tracing her scars.

"I love you," he said.

She whispered the same in reply, and he sat back on his heels, somewhere close to her ankles, looking at her with a smile on his face. His hands made their way up her legs, stroking and tickling and caressing until she was shaking beneath him. When his hand reached the bottom of her shorts and latched on, he once again questioned her with her eyes. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, needing to feel satisfied. And Ron's hand stroking her between her legs was almost enough, until he filled her with his fingers, leaning over to kiss her hard on the lips at the same. She arched into his hand and groaned into his mouth until she felt the heat concentrating in her gut, and she knew she was almost there. Pulling away from his lips she raised one hand to tighten in his hair as she cried out, rising off the bed and falling shakily back to earth. Spent and happy, she looked up at him, his face only inches from her own.

"Not to spoil the moment or anything, but that was fucking hot, Hermione," he said in appreciation.

She laughed then and touched his cheek, replying, "Thank you. Do you want… me to do anything for you?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Tonight was about you. Was that… okay, though?" he asked, looking a little insecure.

"It was amazing," Hermione said, truthfully, "You have talented hands."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead before pulling her up to sit in front of him. He helped her put on her discarded underwear and then his t-shirt, throwing her long-sleeved one across the room to crumple in a dark corner. When she tried to hide her forearm in her lap, Ron pulled it into a more comfortable position, even though the scar was visible.

"You've never been more beautiful, 'Mione."

I hope that was tasteful enough. I feel as though this time would be more about comfort in a passionate way than an "Oh my god I need you right now" kind of scenario :P That might happen later! Reviews are always welcomed :)