Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter, etc,belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: Just a little one-shot. You'll probably guess the two people during the story and, well, even if you don't, it tells all eventually. Bold-italics are song lyrics, italics are flash-backs, and normal text is present day. Song used for this story is "Tonight, Tonight", by Smashing Pumpkins. Doesn't belong to me, belongs to them. Don't sue me, please.


Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same


She stood by his grave, the wind thrashing her hair into tangles around her pale face and dirt swirling in circles by her feet. In her hands she held a bouquet of dull pink flowers and on her face she held tight a blank expression, her eyes the only things hinting at her sorrow.

The grave was new. It's cool, smooth surface reflected in the afternoon sunlight, standing out bravely in the small graveyard. She liked it like that. His grave deserved to stand out and be noticed, just like he had before.

It wouldn't last for long, she knew. The careful engravings had all ready started to dull. She hated that. She hated how ordinary it all seemed. He had been special. Why couldn't anyone understand? He had been special, he had been different.

Here Lies Ron Billius Weasley, she read for the umpteenth time.

Friend to All,

War Hero

And Loving Son and Brother

It was so ordinary, she wanted to scream. Didn't they know what he had accomplished? Didn't they know who had been? He had been so much more than a simple jumble of meaningless words of a gravestone in the middle of nowhere. He had been Ron Weasley. Couldn't they understand? Couldn't they see it? Couldn't they feel it? He had been Ron. Her Ron.


The more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believe
That life can change, that you're not stuck in vain
We're not the same, we're different tonight


His hands were warm. She tugged her scarf tighter around her face, ignoring the cold snow whipping against her hair. His hands were warm, and she tightened her grasp.

"Do you want to go into Honeydukes?" he asked, nodding over at the deserted candy shop.

She shook her head, shivering as a gust of wind blew over them. "No," she said. "I like just walking with you."

Their eyes met for a moment, and they both smiled slightly. "This is probably the last moment of peace we're going to get," he told her. But she already knew.

They stopped just before the Shrieking Shack. The empty streets curved and twisted, shadowed by the lonesome buildings crowded closely together around them. "Let's sit down," she said, turning to him with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow. She would never admit it, but she loved when he that. There were a lot of things she doubted she would ever admit about him. "It's snowing," he told her, looking at her like she had lost her mind.

"Who cares?" she sat down in the snow, and tugged on his arm. "Come on, sit down!"

"I don't want to get wet!" he protested, but she tugged harder. He fell flat on his back.

She laughed at him, her cheeks red and her eyelashes dotted with snowflakes.

"Was that so bad?" she asked. He shrugged. He was looking right at her. She smiled, and knew then the blush on her cheeks and the hitch in her breath wasn't from the cold.

"It'll be ok," he was telling her, "this war. We'll be all right." He tried to look reassuring, but she knew he was scared. She was scared.

"I hope," she answered, resting her head on his shoulder. His hand was still warm in hers.


Tonight, so bright
Tonight
And you know you're never sure
But your sure you could be right


His death had been an accident. That's what they had told her. Or, his family, Harry, more like. For that dreadful, heartbreaking moment it had been like she hadn't existed. She had been nothing. Just another person in the room. Not his girlfriend, not his friend, not the love of his life. Just another person.

People underestimated her sorrow. She kept it inside because she didn't know what else to do. How could she tell people she was feeling like her soul had been taken? Like she was an empty shell? Like she couldn't feel, like she couldn't love, like she couldn't live anymore? Would they understand? How could they? How could anyone?

Harry had seen her at her worst. She had cried, and cried, and he had been there. But even he couldn't understand, and she didn't expect him to. She wasn't sure if she even wanted him to. Her pain, her loss was the last thing she had of him. She didn't want to share anymore.


If you held yourself up to the light
And the embers never fade in your city by the lake
The place where you were born
Believe, believe in me, believe


They stood in the doorway, mistletoe dangling mischievously over their heads.

"This is silly," she said to him. She really thought it was terribly romantic.

"Everything's silly to you," he shot back. He really knew she loved it.

"I'm not going to kiss you," she protested. She couldn't hide her smile, though.

"'Course you're not," he answered. His long nose and wide grin suddenly seemed so much nearer. "I'm going to kiss you."

As soon as she felt his hands cup her chin, she knew it was no use protesting. She sighed, "I always knew you were a gentleman, Ronald Weasley."

He leaned in, and kissed her. Her toes curled, her eyes sparkled, and her fingers tightened into a ball. Love wasn't so bad, after all.


In the resolute urgency of now
And if you believe there's not a chance tonight
Tonight, so bright
Tonight


He had promised her too much. And worse, she had let him. She had known the dangers of war. She had known it was unlucky they would get through. She had known, but she hadn't cared. She had let herself feel and love. She shouldn't have. She had been foolish.

The birds chirped in her ear, and the wind rustled leaves by her feet. She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. She let herself forget where she was, what had happened, and pretended he was here beside her. The wind blowing on her sides was his hands, strong and careful, holding her tight. Her breath hitched as she pretended the sounds of the quiet spring day were his words, soothing and warm, telling her he'd love her forever, that he'd protect her. Her eyes flew open, and the reality of it hit her. It reminded her that it was her that had failed to protect him.


And you know you're never sure
But your sure you could be right
If you held yourself up to the light
And the embers never fade in your city by the lake


"I'm not eating it," he told her, sticking his nose up pompously in the air, and pushing his plate away. "It looks like a garden with a pile of dung in the middle."

She giggled, and pushed the hamburger back towards him. "Really, Ronald," she laughed, gesturing towards her own burger and taking a large bite of it. He made puking sounds and stuck out his tongue. "Stop it," she slapped him soundly over the head, unable to hide her small smile, "it's not that bad!"

"I'm not eating it!" he protested, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yes, you are!"

"Make me." He had a sly smile.

She raised an eyebrow, and picked up the offending piece of burger. "All right," she pushed the small table to the side, and straddled up to him, burger still in hand. His eyes widened as she sat down on his lap, steadying herself with her foot to prevent herself from falling flat on her face. She kissed him lightly on the lips, and giggled through her teeth as he let out a soft moan. "Now," she raised the burger to his lips, but he shook his head.

"You've got to do better than that," he complained, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Sighing, she bent down, and kissed him, softly at first, then deeper, and more meaningful. His breath hitched, and she grasped the back of her head, pulling him closer, closer…

She pulled away, "There. Now eat it."

"Bloody hell," he whispered, and downed the whole burger in one bite.


The place where you were born
Believe, believe in me, believe
In the resolute urgency of now
And if you believe there's not a chance tonight


She felt a thin hand on her shoulder. She didn't to turn around. She knew who it was.

"How is he today?"

She took a deep breath, and shut her eyes for a moment, pretending, regretting. "Quiet," she answered, and she could feel her companion smile. "I did so many things wrong, Harry."

Harry took her hand in his. A sob reached her throat, but she ignored it. His grasp was warm. "You didn't do anything wrong. His death wasn't your fault."

Her hand shook within his, and a single tear managed to slide down her thinned face. "He was so young."

There was a pause. "He loved you, Hermione."

The young woman almost smiled. The tears in her eyes glinted as she stared up at the mellow sunlight. "I know," she said, and tightened her grip on his hand.


Tonight, so bright
Tonight
We'll crucify the insincere tonight
We'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight


They lay on the ground, the cool night breeze blowing fallen leaves in their faces. He was turned to her, a large grin on his face.

"I love you, Hermione," he told her. His hand was resting on her stomach.

She looked at him. She looked at his eyes, so hopeful, his smile, so sly. "I love you, too," she said, even though she knew she shouldn't.

"It'll be all right," he told her, laughing. "We'll be OK, after this is all over."

Hermione stared up at the sky for a moment, silent. "I know, Ron," she said finally, with a smile. "I know."


We'll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight


A/N: Hate it? Love it? Review!