While Ronald Weasley was attempting to sleep off the angst of the war, Hermione Granger was in the room that used to hold Fred and George Weasley; she was in a very light state of sleep, it had been hard for her to fall asleep and now it was difficult for her to stay asleep. Ron was suffering from insomnia, or so it seemed, the cup of herbal tea that he had made to help him had went cold. The radio that had kept both Hermione and himself sane was upstairs with Hermione, although right now, Ron needed it more than anything so his nerves could be calmed. The redhead looked down at the tea before he pushed it away from him deciding that he wouldn't be able to drink it cold as it was; he didn't want to get up to make another cup either.

Hermione had decided that the twins' room would be the best place for her to sleep and push everything that had happened in the last couple of days to the back of her mind so that she would finally be able to sleep. It had worked, well, it had worked to an extent; she felt like she could wake up at any second as nightmares attacked her left and right—

and the snake, she comes with purpose as she pulls back to strike Ron. She is going to strike him and Hermione can't do anything to make it stop. She is just going to watch; as they tumble backwards into the rubble and Ron clutches onto her oh-so-tightly she can see what is coming even though she is crying with her eyes closed as tightly as she can manage. In the back of her mind, she has no faith for anything to save them… this time, nothing does. The sword isn't wielded by Neville and he hasn't came to their rescue, instead, the snake strikes and Ron's blood splatters onto her—it is warm and the only way she knows that it is his blood is the horrible, putrid smell that blood has and the warmness and wetness of it as it hits her while he hisses in pain—

"Ron!" From her lips it comes, it is a perfect scream. It awakes Ginny with ease and the rest of the Weasley household avert their eyes, because they expected this out of someone. Ron was startled at the beautiful sound of her voice, but it was such a distressed, worried tone that sweat sprang to his forehead as terrible thoughts ran through his head; what if something had gotten to her? What if it wasn't over? No, he would not think those things, instead he would force his exhausted body to go up the stairs and go to her side. He needed to reassure her that he was still alive; that she was still alive.

As he walks into the room that instantly causes tears to spring to his eyes, he remembers Fred. The thought of Fred is instantly pushed away as he catches sight of Hermione, who is stuck between the world of dreams and reality; he frowns deeply before he is at her side clutching at her hand. Her chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate and Ron can't help but think of how beautiful she is. "Hermione, wake up." The simple whisper has her eyelids fluttering, before they finally manage to stay open. She looks into his eyes before she bursts into a fit of hysteria. Ron holds onto her for a long moment before she lightly pushes him away and takes both of his hands in hers.

"Ron, I was so terribly afraid. I thought you had perished. That dumb snake… Nagini—" As she began to get tearful again, Ron silenced her by pulling her back into a hug. His heart was beating so quickly; the pain of the past few days still weighed heavily atop of them. The memories would take a while before they wouldn't be haunting them; maybe they would always haunt them… Ron didn't like the sound of that, but he thought that in 19 years or so that one or the other would be waking up screaming for the other. "Ron…" Hermione whispered his name into his ear as she clasped her arms around his neck.

Ron couldn't help but smile, "I love you, Hermione." He buried one of his hands into her mess of hair; his heart fluttered in his chest as they just held each other. It was a sweet moment and the nightmare was dissipating from Hermione's mind as he slowly tucked her back into bed. He didn't await for her reply, instead, he started to make a bed on the floor next to her; he stole some bedding and blankets from the closet and made a comfy—well, as comfy as a mess of blankets on the floor can be—bed for himself. He didn't let go of her hand; he fell asleep while holding onto her hand tightly.

The last words he heard before finally falling asleep was, "I love you too, Ron."