A/N: This story was written for and is dedicated to the lovely wordsmithsonian for her birthday. She is a wonderful writer and friend and I hope you will all read her stories. They are brilliant! xoxo

And just so you know, there will be a few more chapters to this story coming up in future!

Also, check out the song "Not Miserable" by Frightened Rabbit (http:/www . youtube . com/watch?v=6NjTVkCnFO8 - remove spaces). After finishing this story, I went out in the dark and listened to this song. I hadn't realized, but it had been stuck in my head before, and I think it may have subconsciously been the inspiration for the title "Easier". The song's tone fits perfectly with the story, I think. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys it :)

Easier
for wordsmithsonian

He didn't say goodbye. He just was. And then he wasn't. And she had to look at the empty spot he no longer occupied. Every day. Every heart wrenching day.

But then he had the nerve to reappear... He was gone. And then he was back. And that empty space was now full of... something...

She sat by the tent entrance. She could hear someone bustling around inside, but it was her night watch still. So whoever it was, they should be in bed sleeping, readying themselves for the next shift... because she sure as hell wasn't going to stay out here in the cold all night by herself.

Ron's face appeared, and somehow she had known it would be him.

He sat next to her. She felt her muscles tense up immediately, back rigid and stiff as she tried to remember how to be Hermione - in control and fearless. What had he taken with him when he'd abandoned her those long weeks ago? She felt the gaping hole that still remained - every day, she felt it - though she could no longer remember what used to fill it... not exactly... And maybe that was why she still sat rigid in his presence, like he could break her if she let her guard down.

"Hi," he said softly, timidly, as if testing the waters without knowing their depths.

"You should be in bed," she said stonily.

"Yeah," was his only vague reply. She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for another beat to pass, another moment, terrifyingly wordless.

The silence stretched like a rubber band, endless before her gaze as she tried to focus and refocus her eyes on the dark woods beyond. Before he'd arrived and ruined her concentration, she'd been able to see at least a dozen feet into the murky blackness. Now, her eyes begged for readjustment, somehow feeling the distraction the same way that the rest of her body and mind had felt it... the moment she'd smelled him arriving.

"We're supposed to fight. Makes it easier." He shifted against the dead, frost covered leaves beneath him, tucking his knees up under his chin.

"You'd like that," Hermione whispered, her sigh caught in a visible transparent cloud on the cold night air, her small, jarred bluebell flames glowing faintly, briefly reflecting off the smoke of her frustration. But the puff of air, proof of her words, died in front of her purple lips.

She cupped her jar in both hands and stared into it. She'd have no luck seeing into the darkness now, after staring at something so bright. Her night watch was already compromised by Ron's presence anyhow, distraction unavoidable as she listened to his cold, ragged breathing. No use trying to save herself...

She felt his discomfort, and it made her smile... a sad, lonesome smile that was reserved only for herself and her thick, un-brushed hair where it fell on either side of her face, blocking her view of him... but also his view of her. Just the way she wanted it. For now.

"You know," she began, sensing her own change of direction, unable to stop it, "when we, Harry and I... when we packed up camp and left, the day after..."

She paused meaningfully and tilted her head up, the forest beyond now fully in her sights again, though dark and forbidding like she couldn't remember seeing it in quite some time. It felt like a mystery, and one she wouldn't soon solve...

"I really thought," she continued, and she felt his eyes on her, though she didn't dare turn her head right to see him, "I thought for sure I'd die before I ever saw you again."

"No!" Ron yelled instantly, as if the thought was too horrific to allow him a chance to form any other words, and he shifted again, and she could make out the shape of him out of the corner of her eye as he faced her fully.

"I really did! What if you'd come back finally and found us dea-"

"Stop!" Ron shouted, and she thought she could hear his voice echoing somewhere in the distance as she flinched. "Please..." he begged, his voice soft and terrified now.

"I'm sorry..." she mumbled, and she caught him twitching his head left to right. He didn't want her apologies. She knew that. He felt he didn't deserve them...

Finally, Hermione chanced a full glance in his direction. His eyes were wide but soft somehow, glistening in the moonlight. They resembled glass orbs, and her mind went to Harry's Prophecy for some bizarre reason. She shook her head very slightly, overwhelmed by his gaze and his freckled hands pressed to the frozen ground on either side of his crossed legs.

She opened her mouth to say his name, but it died somewhere in her throat, stuck there as it had been for weeks. When she'd finally been able to release it, it had felt rough and unfamiliar. Now, she knew that if she said it here, in the dark... alone with him... she'd start to forget why she wasn't supposed to be entirely pleased with him. And she wasn't ready for that... not quite.

"You can go inside," Ron finally said, and Hermione only just realized how long they had been sitting there in the darkness, staring at each other... wordless. It must have been minutes like that. She blushed, though it could have been the cold catching up to her, an excuse she had to cling to so she wouldn't imagine him noticing what he had done to her... what he'd done with his gaze, those blue eyes that seemed enhanced a bit by her bluebell flames as he scooted closer to her.

She cleared her throat.

"I still have fifteen minutes," she said rationally, glancing at her watch.

"Go to bed. I'm up anyway," he said gently, his voice a bit scratchy. What had changed? Had she... somehow been responsible for the way he was carefully avoiding her eyes? And did his cheeks seem a bit... flushed... too?

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"Positive," Ron nearly sighed, turning his head to look at her one more time. And he lifted the corner of his mouth just enough to destroy her.

"O-Okay..." she stammered as she stood.

"Your lips are purple," he commented as he watched her brush frost from her jeans.

"It's freezing," she said reasonably. "You should... keep my bluebell flames. They really help your hands."

Ron nodded and she turned towards the tent entrance, her heart pounding impossibly fast all of a sudden. But she heard a rustle again behind her and felt his eyes on her back.

"Hermione?" he called, and, standing in the tent entrance, she turned around to face him again where he remained seated several feet away from her. And there it was, confirmation that he still retained his old, familiar power over her.

"Yes?" she inquired distantly, though not impatiently.

"I just wanted you to know..." he began, looking up at her for once in his life, "even if you don't forgive me, I'm just glad to see you again."

She felt her body relax a bit, heart still beating furiously, though a cold wind blew suddenly and rocked through her, creating a series of uncomfortable muscle spasms in its wake. But he was looking up at her with his big, round eyes, her bluebell flames still dancing softly in the jar at his side. She opened her mouth, and she allowed her next foolishly unguarded words to float free.

"I'm glad too, Ron," and she took a step back, her heart melting, as she knew it would, at the specific way that her lips finally formed his name... like she had never felt anything more beautiful in all her life than the simple act of moving her mouth in the correct way... to address him directly. He was still alive and she could see him and hear him and...

She shivered again, though the wind had stopped now.

"Goodnight." She turned, and he was no longer with her.

Just how she expected to feel. Just how she had grown accustomed to. Exactly what she wanted to forget and... forgive even.

But now... he was home, in a sense, and that was always going to be, above all else, the reason why she was still breathing. Still hanging on.

It would have been easier to fight to their resolution. It was what they were used to. But there was something much more beautiful in doing things the hard way.

She climbed into her bunk, shut her eyes, and smiled her first genuine smile since he had left her. Her unshed tears asked a simple question... whether they would be allowed to come out again tonight. And she answered with a hesitant, yet very clear, no.

Not this time.