#triofic

“Relax,” Ron assured him, grabbing for his wrists to bring him to a halt. “It’s nothing new, really. It’s me and Seamus, you know, and you’ve seen us working together. We’ll be just fine. I’ll be back tomorrow night and you won’t even miss me. I’m sure the two of you can think of something to keep you busy while I’m gone.” He winked as he leaned forward to kiss Harry on the forehead. Hermione smirked but Harry still looked worried.

“Harry, it’ll be fine,” Hermione said, coming to stand next to her boys. She slipped a hand around Harry’s balled fist and squeezed it gently so that he opened it and she could put both her hands into the one of his.

He sighed and looked down at where their hands touched. “I know. I mean—” he raked his free hand through his hair and looked desperately at Ron, “—I understand, at least. We went through the same training, we’ve been through the same stuff. It’s just . . . I’m used to having your back, I guess.”

Ron smiled, his blue eyes shining a bit at Harry’s unexpected openness. “Mate, I’m coming home.” He leaned forward and pulled Harry’s other hand out of his messy black hair, laced his fingers into Harry’s, and kissed the knuckles that alternated with his own freckled ones. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

But the smile that Harry returned was only halfhearted. He squeezed Ron’s hand and released it to allow him to go and pack his bag. Before long, Ron was standing at the front door ready to head out. Hermione was standing in front of him, reaching up to hug him around the neck. Ron planted a kiss on the top of her head as he gestured for Harry to come stand with them. He did so, allowing Ron to snake a long arm around him.

“I love you,” Hermione told him, tilting her head up to get a proper kiss goodbye from him. “Be safe.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled, obliging with a smile. “I always am, you know.” Then he looked up at Harry and said, “I mean it. I’m careful and I’m not awful at magic, really.”

“I know you’re not awf—” he began, but Ron interrupted him.

“Oi, not done here. I’m coming home. You don’t need to worry about me. Work on your ruddy lesson plans and give our girl a good shag, eh? Oof.” Hermione nudged him in the gut when he said this. “I love you, too, you know, you specky git.”

“‘Love you,” Harry mumbled back, leaning in to give Ron a tight hug and a kiss of his own.

With a smile and a wave, Ron stepped out the door. In an instant, he had gone.

————

The house was always unusually quiet when Ron was out. It wasn’t as though Harry and Hermione didn’t talk, it was just that they didn’t seem to feel the need to fill in any moment of quiet. This time, though, it was an anxious silence. Every tick from the clock in the hallway seemed to be matched by a footstep as Harry wandered aimlessly around, or a tap on the table as his fingers drummed mindlessly. It was driving Hermione a bit mad. She was curled up on her favorite armchair with a stack of files she had brought home from work, but she had barely made a dent in them. Between worrying about Ron—though she tried not to show it—and Harry’s constant tapping she could not concentrate on her work.

She had tried to make good on the suggestion that Ron had given them a short while after dinner, to quiet Harry as much as to distract him. She came up to him and hugged him close to her, running her fingers up and down his spine like she knew he liked, but all he did was bury his face in her hair and squeeze the breath out of her in a tight hug before releasing her and resuming his pacing. She sighed and sat back down in her armchair.

Finally, at half past nine, it seemed late enough to suggest going to bed.

“Harry darling, come on. The time will pass more quickly if you’re asleep.”

He paused, nodded, and followed her wordlessly into their room. The room was dominated by a larger than average bed, since it usually had to accommodate all three of them, a pair of wardrobes and another pair of comfortable armchairs. Hermione kept one eye on Harry as he undressed and got into his pajamas while she did the same. She hoped he would snap out of it in time to say goodnight to her, at least.

They climbed into bed and she pulled him close to her so that his head rested on her shoulder. Running one hand through his hair and the other up and down his back she whispered, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, ‘Mione,” he whispered back. But it was more than an hour before he finally nodded off to sleep, and only then did Hermione drift off herself.

————

Sometime later, Hermione woke very suddenly. At first she thought it was the cold that had woken her, as Harry seemed to have rolled over toward the edge of the bed he usually slept on. Then she heard rapid breathing from his direction and felt him twitch once or twice. At first she thought he was trying to have a wank by himself and she was slightly offended that he hadn’t woken her up for it if he wasn’t even going to get out of bed. Then she heard him gasp, “N—no. No don’t—”

She sat up and leaned toward him. When she moved she seemed to startle him, as he groaned again and thrashed one arm around so he was laying on his back. “Harry?” she whispered, reaching for his hand. He was clammy and was covered in sweat. She felt sure he was having a nightmare, but she wasn’t sure what to do. Usually Ron was the one to help Harry out after he had a nightmare, and it had been so long since he’d had one that Hermione was having trouble thinking about what usually happened. She was trying to decide if it would be better to wake him up or let him ride through it when the decision was wrenched from her as Harry suddenly sat bolt upright, panting heavily and looking around.

“Ron?” he practically shouted into the dark.

“No, Harry, Ron’s not here.”

He spun to face her and she gasped. His eyes were wide, looking around wildly while his breath was still shallow. He looked around the room, taking everything in as though he didn’t know where he was. Normally his confusion would ebb away as he woke up, but this time it seemed to be giving way to fear.

“Harry?” she asked him quietly.

“Hermione?” he spun to look at her, reaching out for her. “Where—where are—”

“I’m here,” she assured him, taking his groping hands.

“Where are we?”

It broke her heart a little bit to hear it. “We’re at home, Harry.”

“We’re . . . What?” his breathing was starting to slow down, but he still looked confused. “We’re where?”

“Home,” she repeated. “Will you look at me?”

He swung his head around to look at her like she had asked. His eyes were wide and terrified, his pupils so dilated they almost engulfed the green. “Where’s Ron?” he asked wildly.

Hermione swallowed and leaned forward so she could sit on her knees. “What’s wrong?” she asked him seriously. She had the feeling that he was having trouble separating his nightmare from reality, and she knew that when he had had visions during their time at school it always made him feel better to tell someone what he had seen. “Ron’s hurt,” he gasped, gripping her shoulders and shaking her slightly. “We’ve gotta go, Hermione, he’s hurt and we have to find him.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she felt the panic beginning to spread to her. “What?” she demanded, “what’s happened to him?”

“He’s… he’s in a corridor somewhere. She’s got him, ‘Mione, she has him! We have to go now! Where can we—”

“Who?” Hermione interrupted suddenly.

“Who what?” he was trying to turn himself to get out of bed but didn’t seem to be able to swing his legs properly.

“Who has him, Harry?” she could feel herself starting to become hysterical. She knew it was no good, she was terrible when she began to panic, but she couldn’t help it. She had tried to keep a level head, but the idea of Ron bleeding on the floor somewhere was more than enough to set her off.

“Bellatrix.”

And just like that, her panic broke. Harry had not actually had a vision. Now that she thought about it, he had not had one in years. “Oh, Harry,” she sighed.

“Really, Hermione, I mean it! I know what I saw!” he was struggling with the blankets now, trying to throw them off of himself so that he could climb out of bed. “We have to go to Professor McGonagall!”

She reached for his hands, taking them firmly in her own. “Harry,” she said loudly. “Look at me.” He did so, panic still clear in his eyes. “It’s alright. Ron is fine, he’s with Seamus.”

“Seamus?” Harry repeated. “Why Seamus?”

“They’re working together. They’re Aurors, Harry.” She scooted closer to him while maintaining eye contact. “She doesn’t have him, I promise.”

“But how can you know that?” he demanded. He seemed to desperately want to believe her, but he still looked confused and scared.

“Because she’s dead, Harry. Molly killed her to defend me and Ginny and Luna at the battle. Think, I know you remember that.”

For one long moment he stared at her, completely bewildered. She did not know what year he thought it was, or what he thought had happened to Ron, but she had to make him realize that none of it was true. But instead of understanding, he looked even more confused and more than a little hurt.

“N-no,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna go get someone to help us find Ron.” He finally had freed himself from the blankets.

“Dammit, Harry,” Hermione sighed. She came to a decision about what to do in a split second and before she had time to second-guess herself she reached forward, grabbed Harry by the collar and kissed him, hard, on the mouth.

For a moment he struggled, sounding shocked that the girl who, as far as he knew, was in love with his best friend was kissing him. But then he seemed to remember and he melted into her, relaxing against her as his breathing slowed to normal. Finally after almost half a minute she thought it would be safe to pull back. Harry’s eyes were half closed and he had a goofy grin across his lips, but he wasn’t trying to get up any longer.

“Harry,” she began quietly, “What year is it?”

“2001.” He said slowly.

“Yes. And where is Ron?”

“On an Auror mission. With Seamus. Dunno where.”

“Yes. And where is Bellatrix?”

“Dead,” he mumbled, sounding ashamed. “‘M sorry.” He hung his head and looked fixedly at his fingernails.

“It’s alright, love.” Hermione smiled at him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her as she did so, sighing softly. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Harry groaned. “No. I mean, it’s not real, everything’s alright now. I’m sorry I’m an idiot.” He laid down on the bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. His face was pink with embarrassment now that everything was alright.

“You’re not an idiot,” she said rather harshly. When he looked at her in surprise, she made an effort to soften her tone, “You were confused. You’re not an idiot.” She laid down next to him, pulling him close to her so that his head rested on her shoulder again.

“I feel like one.” He mumbled, wrapping an arm around her and pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you are one. You’ve been so worried all day, it makes sense that you would have a nightmare about something happening to him. And the things you saw while you were asleep and things that were actually happening were so closely entwined for so long, it makes sense that they could be hard to separate.” Harry nodded but did not say anything for a while. She thought he had fallen back to sleep until he hugged her close to him and whispered, “I’m sorry,” against her shoulder.

“It’s alright,” she whispered back, leaning down to kiss him on the top of his head. “Go back to sleep now, everything is alright. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, already drifting off again.

————

They slept in later than usual the next morning and ended up skipping breakfast as a result. Harry seemed to be much more relaxed than he had been the day before, and he was even able to work some on his lesson plans for the next term, though he did look up expectantly whenever he heard something outside the front of their house. Hermione, too, was able to get some work done now that Harry wasn’t adding to her stress about Ron. She had spread her files out across the coffee table and then the couch when the table proved to be too small.

Lunch was simple for the two of them, as Harry talked around mouthfuls of peanut butter and jelly sandwich to tell her about his plans for his second years. Considering how disjointed their own Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons had been from year to year, Hermione was very impressed that he was able to put together such a cohesive course across all seven years.

When night began to fall, Harry became increasingly unfocused. He looked up often and would get up and look out the window every ten minutes or so. Hermione was getting nervous too, but tried to hide it behind a huge book. Ron had not said when he would be back, just that it would be that night.

Finally, around 8 o’clock, they heard a small popping sound from the front yard. As one, they got up from their seats and rushed to the door as Ron stepped through it, looking tired but alright.

“Blimey,” he said as Harry ran at him, hugging him tightly and spinning him around as best as Ron’s tall frame would allow. “Missed me, then?” they stumbled to a standstill and Ron kissed Harry, grinning. Harry nodded and threw his arms around Ron’s shoulders. Ron threw a questioning look at Hermione, who was still standing next to the table and smiling at them. “Everything alright?” he asked, patting Harry on the back and hugging him in return.

“Yes,” Hermione smiled at him, coming to greet him with a kiss as well. “We just really missed you.”