A.N. Sorry this is late, everyone! My nephew that I haven't seen in about seven years visited for a week, and what with that and helping my sister over the holiday, I've gotten behind. I know a lot of people are going to be frustrated that nothing really exciting happens in this chapter, but that's sort of the point. Sometimes you do stall out and sort of hit a wall, where it feels like nothing is happening; there isn't a sitcom thirty minute resolution on a weekly basis. It's irritating and discouraging, but that's the reality of the process. I know a lot of people are encouraged by Ron getting help, but I would feel like a liar if I didn't portray the less than dramatic aspects. But don't fear! Things never stay quiet for long, and Ron will soon be kept very, very busy what with one thing and another!

Hermione arrived in Ron's flat with a small pop, and she froze in place in the darkness of the living room, suddenly wondering if she had been mistaken in coming. What if Ron wanted privacy after what he had gone through today? What if not coming over to see her had been his way of signaling that he needed time alone? Just because she wanted to share every step with him didn't necessarily mean that he did, or, at least, that he could right away. Still, she knew it had been about an intense subject he had been dreading, and she was worried about him...fine, she would just check to make sure he was managing on his own, and then she would leave. If he was even here, which she was starting to doubt by the continued darkness. With her wand, she flicked on the lights.

"Ron?" She called loudly enough for her voice to carry to the other rooms. "Are you here?"

There was a thump, a yelp and muffled curse, and a spell shot over her head.

Hermione gave a little scream, raising her wand to shield herself.

"Hermione?" Ron said from the floor, his voice vibrating with tension. "Fuck! I thought someone had managed to get in! Are you alright? It was just supposed to stun you!"

"Merlin, Ron! Didn't you realize it was someone that your Wards would let in?" Hermione asked, clutching her chest.

Ron heaved himself up onto the couch, still clutching his wand, his hair matted down on one side. "Assuming things like that is how people end up dead, Hermione. I woke up and didn't know what the hell was going on!"

Her heart slowing down a bit, Hermione took a deep breath. "Sorry, I should've given more warning. I didn't realize you would be asleep though."

Ron scratched his jaw, swallowing a yawn. "It's fine. Didn't think you would take off from work this early, is all."

Hermione frowned, eyeing him closely. "Ron, what time do you think it is?"

He shrugged. "Noonish? Two?"

She walked closer to him, stopping in front of the sofa. "It's nearly nine," she said gently.

Shock caused his jaw to sag, his eyes blinking owlishly before he checked his watch, then leaped up to dash over and open the curtains. He looked out at the dark evening sky before jerking them closed again and turning to look at her.

"Bloody hell!" He nearly shouted, running both hands through his hair. "I could have sworn I was only asleep for an hour, two at most! How could I sleep the entire day away without realizing it?"

Hermione walked over to him, taking his hand and absently rubbing small circles with her thumb as she looked up at him. In spite of his unanticipated nap, his eyes were bloodshot and dark circled.

"I don't think you've been sleeping very well the last few nights for one thing. And I suspect your session today was stressful, to say the least. Opening up about what happened during the war-"

"We didn't even get that far," Ron confessed, leading her back over to sit on the sofa.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, drawing her legs up as she turned sideways to face him. "I thought that was the whole point of this session?"

Ron snorted. "So did I. But Hitchens went all the way back to first year-said that the roots of the war started then, and that the things that happened and the decisions I made affected everything that came later."

Hermione was silent as she mulled that over. "I suppose that's true. That last year wasn't an isolated incident, and the only way to really understand it is to know the history behind it. But how do you feel about it?"

He shook his head. "Honestly? I don't know. I understand what he's getting at on one level, and I know he's right, but at the same time, I just want to get all of this over with. Spit it out about the final battle and have him say what's wrong with me and what I need to do. I feel like going in next time and just telling him that if he doesn't do that, then I'm through."

"And are you going to do that?" Hermione asked, doing her best to mask the fact that she thought that was a bad idea.

"No," he said grudgingly. "I want to, but I won't. He's done a good job up until now, and there were things he had me do that I thought were mental, but ended up helping. I should at least go back a few more times and see how it goes, don't you think?"

"It's your decision, but since you asked my opinion, I think it's the right one."

Ron quirked a brow. "Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?"

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm trying to be sensitive and understanding, so watch it!"

He laughed, but his smile soon faded. "I guess my extended nap is proof that he was right. If I was like this from just today, I hate to think what would've happened if he dove straight into the hard stuff."

"True. And maybe this way, he might be able to pinpoint the start of your problems if you take things in segments. If he can do that, it might be easier to help you."

"I just wish that understanding all that made it easier to go through. What if I do all this, and at the end, he still can't fix what's wrong with me completely?"

Hermione responded to the worry in his tone by leaning against him and squeezing his hand between hers. "Maybe he can't. Maybe it's not the kind of thing that can ever really completely heal, like how it is for George about Fred. But look at George! He's never going to get over that loss, but he's improved so much! He's not nearly as depressed and self destructive, and he's starting to actually take joy in living, and growing a relationship with Angelina. He'll always have to carry that hurt with him, but at least it's not consuming him."

"Well, if George can hang on, then I suppose I can-he's even more impatient than I am!"

She resisted making a comment. Barely.

"Well, he is," Ron insisted, although not very forcefully.

"If George can stick to something, then you can, too," Hermione said, more conviction in her words. Ron might drag his feet, but once committed to something, he was a terrier.

"I guess that's sorted, then. Damn, I wish I'd had time to take a fly to clear my head! I'd planned on doing that, then coming over to yours to let you know how things went. Sorry if I worried you-I really did fall asleep and lose track of time."

Hermione smiled to show she wasn't upset. "I know, and I'm not mad. I was worried when you didn't show up, since I didn't know how you were feeling, but I intended to leave again if you needed space. Do you?"

In answer, he gripped her hand tighter. "No! No, I don't want you to leave, although I'd like to change the subject, since I'm getting a little stressed now. Really wish I'd had time for flying, since I think it might've helped a little."

Standing up, she pulled him along with her. "Then let's go right now; that is, if you don't mind a passenger."

"But you hate flying," Ron said, making no move to go get his broom.

With a frown, she placed her hands on her hips. "Can you think of any time that I've flown without being worried about what marks I would get for it, or having someone trying to sling curses at me?"

"Well, no, I reckon either one puts a bit of a damper on it," he admitted.

"Then let's see if you can change my feelings on the subject, shall we? After we stop at the Leaky and get you fed, since I doubt you've eaten."

Not being one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth, Ron went off to get his broom. He was tired, anxious, and uncertain about the future, but he was also, he thought as he rejoined Hermione and took her hand, pretty damn lucky.

It was a little over two hours later when Ron got back to his flat, after leaving Hermione at hers. She had invited him to stay the night, but he had made excuses about having things he needed to do. Really, though, he was a little worried about the possibility of nightmares, and didn't want to keep her up or worry her. She hadn't called him on it, but she did give him the look that always let him know that she knew what was going on. He appreciated it though, since after already dealing with his session and discussing it with her earlier, an argument would have just killed the slightly relaxed feeling that the broom ride had given him. He had been able to forget everything while he had been focused on flying and making sure she was having a good time (not to mention enjoying every time she would grab him), and while he could still detect a certain level of anxiousness within himself, at least he had lost the headache that had been hanging about the edges.

He was just checking his wards before bed when the Floo flared to life, and Harry's head popped up.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Harry asked, nodding at Ron's wand.

"Nah. I was just getting settled for the night. Is something up?"

"I just had a quick question. I know up until now, you've only been practicing with the team, but something's come up. We have a match tomorrow against the Fire, Explosion, and Spontaneous Combustion Department, and we need a Keeper. Can you fill in for us?"

Ron's first instinct was to say no. He was tired and had a lot on his mind, and he wasn't feeling particularly sociable, especially if other people were counting on him and he couldn't keep his head in the game. On the other hand, some physical exercise might help, like the flying had tonight. A good game would not only take his mind off things if he could focus on it, but it would wear his body out to the point his mind might not be able to keep him awake.

"Sure, I guess so, if you don't think anyone else will have a problem with it," he answered.

"Everyone else wants you, but they figured you might say no if they asked; they made me use my irresistible charm so it would be harder for you to turn down," Harry joked.

"Little do they know, I'm immune," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "But I'll still do it anyway. Was that all you wanted?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to change his mind about something half way through. "Have you already talked to Hermione tonight?"

"Just got back from seeing her to her flat, why?"

Harry's head bobbed, meaning he was probably shrugging. "Just thought she would want to see how things went today, is all. Look, you look knackered, so I'm going to let you get some sleep-we need you in top form tomorrow."

They said their goodbyes, but Ron hadn't been tired enough to miss the subtle hints that Harry had given him. He'd obviously known he had talked to Hermione about his session, and was worn out from both. Having gone through highly stressful situations himself, Harry knew that retelling it over and over right afterwards only made you feel even more tired and frustrated, so he wasn't the type to press other people. Of course, Ron knew that he was probably on the Floo or over at Hermione's already, but that was fine. She knew what was alright to share and what wasn't, so he didn't mind her filling Harry in for him. Maybe he would talk about it with him later, but for now, he was done. Done, and exhausted. His body felt as if it were made of stone, and it took all of his energy to drag himself to his room, strip down, and stretch out on the bed-which he dimly registered as ridiculous, given how long he had slept earlier that day. Ridiculous or not, though, he barely had enough time to make sure his wand was positioned correctly under his pillow before unconsciousness overtook him.

It felt like only moments later when he threw himself into an upright position, gasping for air. The mattress beneath him was soaked in sweat, the thin sheet clinging to his skin as he struggled to remember where he was. His hand had found his wand instinctively, and he held it in front of him, his eyes darting around the room, searching for threats. When there were none to be found, he slumped forward, bracing his arms on his knees.

Fuck, he thought. He'd known this was going to happen. What was wrong with him? All he had done was talk about the past-and hardly even the worst part of the past-and here he was, shaking like a little kid that had been listening to scary stories. Why hadn't someone developed a charm to fix this? Something like a permanent cheering charm. Muggles and those new to the Magical world were always a bit obsessed with magic, but sometimes, Ron thought, it was bloody useless when it really mattered.

Checking his watch, he saw that he was only an hour earlier than usual. Not too bad. He might as well get up, so with a groan, he heaved himself off the bed, deciding not to bother with a shower. He only had to work this morning, which would be paperwork unless something came up, and then he would be playing Quidditch; it made more sense to wait until after.

In the space of time it took him to slide into clothes and make a quick breakfast, he was at the office and already halfway through his papers by the time everyone came trickling in. Most stopped by to say hello, but Ron found he could do little more than grunt. He wasn't rude, or anything, but he wasn't as interactive as he had been recently, and it was enough for people to notice. Harry in particular, although that was probably because he knew him so well.

"You doing okay, Ron?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low enough that others couldn't hear over the din of conversation and moving around.

Ron glanced up from his desk. "I'm fine, just kind of tired. You know I haven't played an actual game in awhile, so I think that's part of it," he said, which was at least partially true.

Harry gave him a slow nod. "Sure, I know. But you'll be fine-you always are once you get out there. Just...let me know if you need anything, alright? To talk, or, well...anything, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. But I'm fine, really. Just bloody stupid nerves."

He felt Harry watch him for a few minutes more, but was glad when he finally left for his own desk. He didn't want to talk about it right now, especially here. Maybe later, when he didn't have the game hanging over him. If he got too upset there was no way he could play well, and then he'd just feel bad since he knew people were counting on a little stressed, he stood and walked to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water over his face, before bracing his hands on the sink and breathing deeply.

He was going to keep it together, he told himself, slowly calming down. Alright, so things hadn't gone as he'd thought, and he hadn't made progress this week. Even with that, he'd been doing pretty well up until now, Right? Right. He'd been told not to expect miracles and that this would be hard. That was fine. He'd gone into this with a realistic frame of mind, and he wasn't a stranger to hard. He gave his shoulders a shake, loosening up his muscles, and gave himself a nod in the mirror. So maybe he didn't feel like he'd moved forward.

He still refused to give up or lose ground.