Requiem for his soul

Chapter 1

Hermione was frustrated with her performance on the battlefield. After hunting for Horcruxes and Harry's death, she was needed for research and found different ways to help out the Order, including learning healing magic to help out Madame Pomfrey whenever she could. But this left her little time to practice offensive magic and even less time to grieve. Not that she would allow herself to give into that desire anyway.

This time was meant to be a small task, which was why Ron had let her accompany him. But it had been a frenzy of hexes and curses she was ill-prepared for. They had arrived trapping them all in like mice in a cage filled with cats.

"Hermione we made it, we're good." Ron's voice rang softly through her ears while the blackness around her eyes receded to reveal the burrow.

"We're here, b-b-but what about the others? Did you see them escape?" Her breath still rapid and her voice hoarse enough that she couldn't recognize it herself.

"We shouldn't have brought you, Mione. I'm sure they're fine and will be on their way"

"What? Y-Y-You, you didn't bring me, I chose to come."

"Look at you! You're out of breath! I don't think you will be able to walk further without collapsing."

"Ronald my physical health and shape are just fine, you don't get to determine- what, what are you doing?"

"You can lecture me all you want later but let's go home, I'm tired," he said, grabbing her from the back and under the knees, cradling her in his arms and walking them towards the burrow.

This time Hermione didn't protest but allowed him to carry her. She was tired too. She slipped her arms around his neck, his body heat crept into her skin at every part of their touch. He smelt of freshly mown grass, sweat, musk, and of.....of Harry. It was suffocating, a constant reminder of what she'd lost, even as the months passed by it worsened, she would see the death and impact Harry had in everyone's eyes, especially Ginny's, who couldn't seem to find the motivation to continue, to keep fighting. The entire Weasley family, in general, had lost him, a brother, a lover, a son and a best friend. But despite the others mourning his loss as well, and the Order finding new ways to defeat the Death Eaters, it felt as if it were just her and Ron on the run. After the battle they had been deemed the most wanted 'criminals' in the Wizarding world due to their association with The chosen one, the boy who lived, now being the boy who died.

Hermione's love for Ron burned deep, rooted in her. She was all he had. The only person for her and yet it felt toxic, infuriating and just... sad. She couldn't shake the feeling off no matter how hard she tried. The history was too intense. Harry was in almost every single memory she had with Ron, looking at him, only made her heart twist with pain. His smile would be fake most of the time, it fooled the others but it never fooled Hermione, it covered the emotional trauma that lurked underneath, but just barely. They were after all children of war. He now wore a mask to hide his emotions, but so did she, and she wore it better than anyone.

One day, maybe just one day, she hoped someone would look past her mask, her smile and pull her close, tell her it's okay not to be strong. It's okay to cry. But she knew if she ever lost her facade in front of Ron he would break alongside her.

So, she didn't, she stayed strong and quiet. Cried in isolation and smiled in public. Shattering herself on the inside, so others found hope in her happiness for a better life. They looked up to her and she couldn't let them down.

Ron shifted slightly and abruptly stopped in front of the house. Remus came out and pointed his wand at both of them. "Who was the sixth person who came late when Peter Pettigrew's identity was revealed?"