Someone was screaming, the wails so loud they reverberated in Hermione's skull. It hurt her ears and her throat. That's when she realized the noise was coming from her.

She was on her knees in an instant, hunched over Ron, clutching handfuls of his shirt in her fists, as he lay silent, ignoring her cries. "No, no, no, no, no." Hermione tugged harder at the shirt, pulling as if moving his torso would put energy back in his body. Her knees dug into the muddy ground, her head dipped low over one spot above his chest. Her eyes were almost unwilling to look upward yet, didn't want to search his face for confirmation. Instead, her gaze focused on the spot where she knew his heart should be beating, working with her hands and her tears to make him move.

When pulling didn't seem to work, she deciding hitting might. Her balled up fists rained down on his chest, striking him, willing him to sit up and protest. The fists came down faster and faster, but the force behind them grew lighter, until Hermione collapsed over him, her face pressed into the cool linen of his shirt, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Another heaving sob was ripped from her, and her body convulsed with the effort.

"Ron!" she wailed, the tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Hermione inhaled several times in quick succession, unable to catch her breath. Her hands lay at either side of her face, still pressed against his shirt, her fingers digging into his skin there.

Behind her, Hermione heard commotion, people running toward her. She drew herself up and over Ron's face finally, as if to shield him from whatever else was coming. She pulled his head inches off the ground and cradled him in her arms, searching his face for anything, something to prove this wasn't real and the world hadn't just caved in on itself.

"Noooo," Hermione cried, her fingers running over his closed eyes. "Oh God…please no."

It was getting harder to see his face, her vision was so blurred from tears. Her throat felt raw from the screaming and she was still having trouble getting any air into her lungs. It didn't matter. She rocked back and forth with Ron in her arms, sporadically crying out wails of protest, begging for this not to be true.

There was a hand at her shoulder and she heard Harry's voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She jerked away from Harry, pulling Ron's  dead body even closer to her. Oh God…Ron's dead body. Fresh tears fell then, another wave of grief hitting her as she tried to comprehend the idea of Ron being a dead body.

Harry's arm found her shoulder again, tugging more insistently. Well he could just keep tugging. She wouldn't let any of them near him, would refuse to let the moment come when she had to release Ron and face the reality of it. If she just stayed there forever, she could imagine it was her and Ron, outside of the burrow, locked in an embrace.

Her nose touched his hair and she breathed in deeply, the most oxygen she had been able to get in since collapsing to the floor. The smell of his hair was like a memory, something she had never forgotten, not through three lonely years of longing for him. Hermione's tears dampened his hair as the horrible longing struck her once more. She couldn't fathom a lifetime of that yearning, of forever having to live in a world where he didn't exist. He had been her compass point for so long, the thing that had kept her on her course, even when he didn't know it.

He was the love of her life and she would hold onto him forever; she'd be damned if she let Harry Potter take him away from her now.

Hermione felt another touch, this time to the back of her skull. She reared her head back, ready to growl at Harry or whoever else was trying to take Ron from her arms. But this touch was lighter than Harry's had been, more…unsure. Hermione looked up and blinked, trying to see through her wet tears.

Ron's eyes stared back at her.

All of the air rushed out of her. Her breathing was rigid as her eyes bore into Ron's, trying to determine if she was imagining this. His eyes were open now and Hermione could see their beautiful blue color, a shade identical to her daughter's. One of his hands was behind her head, his fingers snaking through her hair. His eyes blinked several times and Hermione's fingers clutched tighter at him, willing him not to slip away. Then, he spoke.

"Mione?"

Hermione gave a small cry at the sound, not believing what she had just heard. Tears fell faster now and Hermione moved in closer to his face, as if studying his nose, his cheeks, his mouth.

"Ron?"

He nodded at her, reaching his other hand up to touch her cheek. He rubbed away a few of her tears.

"Am I back?" he asked, his voice raspy.

Hermione let out a shout, roughly pulling his head to her shoulder and holding him there. He pulled back to sit up further, shaking his head groggily. His skin was pale and he looked like he could use a long nap, but he was alive. Ron was alive.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again but couldn't think of what to say. Instead she put her arms out to draw him in again, but was interrupted as Lavender crashed down to the floor, smothering Ron's face with kisses.

"Oh my God, I was so worried!"

Hermione sat back slowly on her heels as Ron twisted to accommodate Lavender. Molly was at him next, pulling up one of his arms to lay her cheek on his palm. Hermione moved back farther still, watching the display with unblinking eyes. The gamut of emotions running through her ranged from awe to glee to bewilderment. She licked her lips and took a deep gulp.

Harry finally got Hermione's attention, helping her stand up and looking her over to check that she was okay. He tried to wipe some of the mud off her knees, but it was no use. Instead, Harry pointed Hermione's attention to a spot a few feet away, where she saw Shraxen dead on the floor. When did that happen, Hermione wondered.

Kingsley stood over the defeated Shraxen, levitating the bound forms of the other three death eaters, as the aurors prepared to take them back to the Ministry for questioning. Bill and Charlie leaned down then to help Ron stand, who swayed a bit with the effort, as if dizzy. Arthur momentarily opened a small window into the ward, letting those without Weasley blood walk back through. Arthur immediately closed up the window once everyone was safe.

As soon as she stepped through the ward, Ginny was there, handing Rose back into Hermione's arms. Hermione gave a sigh of relief, holding her daughter close to her and inhaling her sweet soapy smell. She tried to thank Ginny but was having trouble finding her voice, so stunned and drained was she from the last twenty minutes. Ginny smiled and nodded in response, as if understanding.

Together the group walked back into the burrow, making surprisingly little noise. Ron was eased onto an armchair near the fire while Angelina and Audrey went about setting out medical supplies, to heal any cuts or sores caused by the fighting. Bill took Victoire from Fleur, kissing his child's forehead and then that of his wife's. Hermione stood in one corner, holding Rose, not ready to sit down. The fight or flight in her hadn't gone out yet.

There were several long moments before anyone spoke, and then there was an explosion of conversation.

"That was the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen!"

"I don't understand a bit of it…what was that blue ball of light?"

"Percy, have you ever read anything like this?"

"There were four of them, two of each. Madness!"

"He was hit, I swear he was."

"How'd he do it? What the bloody hell happened?"

The talk continued, everyone rushing to speak over one another and trying to puzzle it out. Sitting on opposite sides of the room, Ron and Hermione stared at each other. Neither blinked or looked away, just sat and looked with serious expressions on their faces. Ron looked almost contemplative.

It was Harry who finally called for order, putting his hands up to ask for quiet.

"I think I may have an explanation for all this."

All eyes flew to Harry, each person in the room searching for some sort of answer as to what had just occurred out there. Every witness saw Ron Weasley hit with the killing curse, saw him fall. Each felt the dread and horror of losing a son, a brother, a friend. Yet here he was, alive and for the most part unharmed.

"Take off your shirt Ron."

"Fine time for you to ogle Ron's business," George replied, the joke half hearted.

Ron looked at Harry with a knowing look in his eyes. Standing slowly as if it were a difficult task, Ron unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, arm by arm. He hissed as the shirt fell away, as if something had hurt him. Feeling behind him, his hand explored the flesh of his back, searching for the source of the pain. Surprise registered on his face then, as if discovering something. Ron turned quietly, exposing his back to the rest of the room. There, running up and down his spine, was a long and narrow scar. It was shaped like a lightning bolt.

A/N: Thanks for reading and please vote and comment!