Hermione couldn't sleep. She didn't see how anyone could. It was May 3, 1998. Death and exhaustion filled the entire castle. Voldemort had been defeated but this was no time for celebration. The dead littered the Great Hall, some of them children. Friends and family were reuniting while others discovered their loved ones were gone forever. Hermione was familiar with death but now she had an intimate awareness of it that she never wanted.
However, death wasn't the only thing on her mind. Hermione felt superficial and wrong but she couldn't stop thinking about how she and Ron had kissed the night before. She spent years confused by the way her best friend made her feel. Why did Ron's words always sting more than Harry's? When she felt alone, why was it always Ron she wanted beside her? Hermione spent her adolescence pushing aside these feelings until it just wasn't possible anymore.
The past year had been confusing. Ever since Ron and Lavender broke up, it was clear that Hermione and Ron were more than friends. When they were on the road with Harry, Ron and Hermione had held each other's hands every night as they went to sleep. Even though this was seen as a small gesture, holding hands was the most intimate action they could afford during this time of war. Hermione didn't know at the time but every night when Ron held her hand, he prayed that no one, not Death Eaters or Viktor Krum or even Harry could take Hermione away from him.
And then they had kissed. In the middle of destruction and chaos, Hermione kissed him. And he kissed her back. Hermione hadn't kissed anyone since she was fifteen, three long years ago. She and Ron hadn't discussed it yet but she wanted to desperately. Hermione found herself thinking selfishly but pushed aside the thoughts of romance when she remembered that Fred was dead. This was no time for foolish ideas about kissing and love.
She had been trying to sleep in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by students and outsiders alike. She couldn't stand to go back to her old room and pretend everything was normal, especially not when Lavender was gone, so she let the other survivors have the room.
Wanting to think about anything else, Hermione decided to take a walk. She wandered to the girls' bathroom to wet her face but, as she looked in the mirror, she was surprised by what she saw. Hermione endured so much trauma and heartache over the past couple years, she felt old. But looking at her face, she saw a young girl. Being on the run the past year and fighting off witches and wizards who wanted her dead made her forget her youth. Hermione was only eighteen. She should've been graduating from Hogwarts but instead she was fighting to protect it.
A shallow cut ran over her cheek from the battle and the scar on her neck remained from her experience at Malfoy Manor. Hermione couldn't see in the mirror but she was sure her body was bruised and scratched. She winced when she splashed water over the cut. It was small but it stood out on her dark skin. She heard a sob erupt from one of the bathroom stalls and quickly left, not wanting to disturb someone in grief.
Hermione kept walking down the halls, the halls she had once called home. Hermione loved Hogwarts, not just because she loved school, but because she finally found people who accepted her. In primary school, Hermione had been teased because of her hair. The other students laughed at her kinky curls and called her names. Here, there were still bullies but, unlike in her muggle world, she had defenders too. Malfoy might have called her names but people like Harry and Ron and Ginny always stood by her.
As Hermione continued down the hall, she heard deep sobs coming from an empty classroom. She peered inside to see who it was and was devastated to find Ron with his knees against his chest and tears running down his face. Hermione tentatively walked in, not knowing whether she should leave him alone or comfort him.
"Ron?" she said softly, almost a whisper.
Ron shot up, "Hermione?".
Hermione now felt awkward and unsure. "I can leave you alone if you'd-" She was cut off by the feeling of Ron's arms wrapping around her legs. He cried into her and she now knew what to do. She knelt down and grabbed him, pulling him tight against her chest and stroked his hair while he wept.
"Bill told us we had to be strong for Mum and Dad and George but I don't think I can." Ron's words were separated by desperate attempts to catch his breath while his chest rose and fell.
"You don't have to be strong right now. It's just me." Hermione felt tears sting her eyes but refused to let them fall. Just like Ron had to be strong for his family, she had to be strong for him now.
Ron drew back to look Hermione in the face and said "Fred's gone and Ginny was almost killed."
"But she wasn't. She's still here."
". The last few years… Dad's been attacked, George lost an ear, Greyback attacked Bill… why am I okay? They're all loads better than me but they've all been hurt and I'm just fine." Ron looked at Hermione with his blue eyes wide open. His long nose was bright red, hiding his freckles. Hermione carefully chose her words, desperate to say the right thing.
"You're not fine. You've endured…so much." Hermione stroked his hair. "You were so strong for Harry and I, and you always have been. I've always wanted to be as brave as you." Hermione blushed slightly and looked down. "You've been strong for your family too. They're so lucky to have you. We're all so lucky to have you. And if anything happened to you, I don't know what we'd do. I would be… lost." Hermione was cut off once again, but this time it was Ron's lips that met hers. Hermione was shocked but gently kissed him back, placing her hand on his cheek.
When Ron drew back, he stared into Hermione's brown eyes, the eyes that always made him feel safe. "If something had happened to you… I love you, Hermione. I always have, even if I didn't know it. And I know you can do a lot better than me but-"
"Ronald Weasley, stop spouting that nonsense. You're the best person I've ever known. No one could ever do better." And Hermione truly meant. In her eyes, no one could ever offer the feelings of warmth and comfort that Ron provided. Hermione was more than capable of taking care of herself but it was also nice to be taken care of. Ron's very presence put her at ease, even when they were fighting and screaming. Knowing he was there meant that everything would end okay. "And I love you so much, I don't know what to say."
Ron smiled for the first time. "That's a first." Then Ron's smile dropped. He asked earnestly, "How am I going to do this on my own? Wake up each day and know he's dead. That everyone else could've died too."
Hermione grabbed his hand. "You won't be on your own. We'll do it together."
The next morning Ron and Hermione were found sleeping on the floor of the History of Magic classroom, hands still intertwined.
