“You have to give him time, Molly, I’m sure he’ll come around,” she says soothingly and his mum shakes her head in disbelief.

“Isn’t it enough losing one son?” she whispers and even though he can’t see her face, Ron knows tears are forming in her eyes.

Hermione can’t explain it, anymore than she can explain the meaning of life and death, but there is something vacant inside her chest whenever he’s gone.

She is interrupted by a tired looking Harry who has played Quidditch all day with a tireless Ginny. Hermione smiles warmly.

“You look tired,” she beams and Harry groans as he slumps onto the couch.

“You would too, you know.”

He is subconsciously aware that a warm, smooth hand slips into his as he witnesses the scene before him. George stands in front of his parents one second, and in the next, they enclose him in their embrace.

Hermione remembers this particular landing all too well. It was where they had slept that first night they had arrived when on the run, the very first time she and Ron had held hands; she remembers that at the time, there had seemed to be nothing special about it, nothing romantic, only something incredibly natural.

At this, Luna’s face lights up and quite suddenly, she’s chuckling happily and soon enough, both Ginny and Hermione join in, the three of them just happy to be alive, to be together.

She doesn’t say anything, just kisses him swiftly on his lips, knowing full well it’ll calm him down. It never fails to amaze him how well they know each other.