Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable character, thing. That is all the property of JKR and anyone else conserved. I make no money

AN: This just popped into my head while trying to work on a few of my other fics. It's okay, but I was literally writing it was I was making it up, so it may seem a bit off in places. It's also now been edited! I finally did away with all of those spelling errors.

Any port in a storm

Any port in a storm. It wasn't in till this very moment that Hermione stopped ponder the old muggle saying. Her father had jokingly said it several times in her youth, in varying situations but she had never really pondered the meaning behind them. Now, setting in an upper room of the Burrow, days after the excitement of the final fall of Voldemort and the mourning of those that had been lost, she thought about that simple phrase.

The war had been a storm in its own right, engulfing everything in its wake and leaving nothing unscathed. Finding the Horcruxs had been the priority, not personal frivolities. She had clung to what she had known, what she had loved when she was most alone in the world. And she did love him, more than anything she could ever hope to love any other thing in the world. She had loved him since she was eleven years old, waited for him, pinned for him, tried to forget him, but no matter what she did he was always there, in the back of her mind, in her heart.

Then the stupid 'quest' came, find the Horcruxs, stop the dark lord. That's when she had truly fallen in love with him. The late night, the long days, all the little things that filled up the hours that weren't spent planning and running. He had shown interest, held her hand, cried, fought for her, protected her. He'd accepted her kisses and touches, he'd reciprocated. But not once in all that time did he initiate. Never shown interest in till they had been thrown in the whole mess of it all, never looked at her twice.

Any port in a storm. Her quill hung in mid air, lazily dropping dots of ink onto the scrape of parchment that sat before her. The words, written a dozen times over, glared back at her in their bold familiar script. Hand shaking she quickly set the quill aside, not paying any attention as the remainder of the ink splattered on to the desk top. Running a slightly stained hand over her face she tried not to cry.

She should have known, should have guessed, but she had been so willing to believe that he had finally come to his senses, finally realized what she could mean to him. Gods, she'd kissed him as soon as it was all over, thrown her arms around him and clung to him as though he were the only tangible thing left in the world. He'd reacted of course, what eighteen year old boy wouldn't. He'd taken what she had offered, all that she had offered. What a fool she'd been.

Not even a month since the second battle of Hogwarts and already she was as good as forgotten, a relic of the past. Of course who could blame him, especially with all of the young, beautiful women that were flinging themselves at him? Ones with long, silky hair, flawless skin, and perfect temperaments. What was a bushy haired, bossy, bookworm compared to the likes of them?

Staring blankly at the pile of hair across the room she tried to hold it in. She hadn't exactly been in the right state when she'd done that she realized but at the time it had felt good. With every snip of the scissors it was as though she was cutting a bit of him out of her. He'd run his hands through that hair, called it lovely, and perfect, like her. Tugging at an uneven lock that hung near her ear she snorted. Lovely indeed. Shaking her head she felt odd not having hair fly around her face, her new page boy hair cut keeping it well within control. It didn't matter; she was just a port after all.

Balling up the piece of parchment she had spent the afternoon scribbling on she tossed it in the general direction of the waste basket. Not even looking to see if it had made its target she pulled out another piece, and once again picked up her quill.

It wasn't as though she had just woken up this morning and decided she'd try hating him, no, it was much more complicated than that. In all honesty she probably could have happily lived in denial for a few months before he finally broke it to her. She probably would have if that damn letter hadn't arrived last night. Lavender Brown, oh how she hated that girl to this day. Of course she would have to be the cause of her bubble being burst. The glorious Lavender had wrote a letter to her dear Won-Won and what should he do but go running off the first chance he got. Miserable git.

That was the thing that hurt the most. A nameless, faceless girl she would have been able to deal with, if only eventually, but the fact that he had so clearly chosen Lavender stung so much more. She had been the perfect girlfriend after all, the most beautiful girl in Gryffindor. So why should it surprise Hermione in the least that he had chosen that over her. Sure they'd broken up over a year ago, but it had been Lavender to do the breaking not the other way around. Ron had never stated his thoughts on the break up, nor had he ever mentioned Lavender since, but she had known he'd never gotten over the blond.

Staring down at the once blank parchment she realized she had unknowingly begun to write again. Any port in a storm stared back at her mockingly. Even her subconscious was trying to tell her the obvious. She had been there when he'd needed something, anything really, in the time of war. It wasn't his intended destination but it would do in a pinch. She had been the consolation prize. Destroy the locket, fight the Death Eaters, survive the battle, and you get one Hermione Granger at your beck and call. He hadn't wanted her necessarily, but the options had been slim on those long nights at Grimmald and in that tent.

Crossing out the words one by one she sighed, leaning against her arm for support. She was so tired, physically, mentally, emotionally. Hearing a soft click she didn't even bother to look up, figuring Ginny had finally returned from her afternoon with Harry. Silence ebbed away in the room, Ginny's usually happy voice not filling the room with stories of newly reacquainted love. Glancing up but not lifting her head she was met by an unexpected sight.

Ron, clad in one of his dress shirts and slacks, stood in the doorway leaning against the doorframe smiling at her. Fighting between anger and grief she calmly put her quill down and straightened herself. His smile momentarily faltered as he took in her new, shorter hair but his happiness seemed to win out. "Hi." he greeted, his voice sounding more mature and every bit as happy as his smile.

Keeping herself calm she managed to force a small, in not strained, smile. "Hello, Ronald." she replied. His smile morphed into a grin at the use of his full name as he moved fully into the room. Remaining seated she shuffled the papers she had in front of her, discreetly hiding the one she had just been writing on. "Back early?"

He had the nerve to chuckle at that. "I've been gone since last night, 'Mione." he answered, not even seeming to be fazed by his own words. She wasn't sure if it was the casual way he had just told her he'd spent the night with someone else or the use of his privet nickname for her but her resolve began to crake.

Not wanting him to see her cry she pressed on, hoping to divert her mind. "Very true. You are undoubtedly tired, you should rest before dinner. You look as though you are in need of it." Her voice remained even as she spoke though how she did it amazed her.

"Is that an invitation?" he chuckled, moving closer to where she sat. Feeling one of the last bonds of restraint on her anger snap she quickly stood. He had the audacity to proposition her after he had spent the night with Lavender! Slowly boiling in anger she flicked her wand around to clean up the room a bit.

"I have no need for sleep. I spent last night in my bed resting, unlike some people." she spoke, haphazardly vanishing the pile of hair in front of the mirror. A strong arm suddenly wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest.

"Who said anything about sleep?" he murmured against her neck, slowly placing kisses along the flushed skin. Giving into the sensation for a moment Hermione lost herself in the feeling of his touch. It was when his hand slipped under her thin t-shirt that she came falling back to reality.

"Enough, Ronald!" she yelled, pulling from his grasp. Not turning around to look at him she readjusted herself. "Do you really believe I would want that after last night?" Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye she watched as a confused look crossed his face.

"Last night? I wasn't even here last night." he answered, a confused frown crossing his features. Crossing her arms she hugged herself to keep at least some calm.

"That's right, Ronald. You weren't here last night. You left directly after dinner, scampering off to parts unknown dressed like a muggle and grinning like an idiot. I hadn't even known why you'd gone in till Ginny told me you'd received a letter from Lavender." she explained, whipping around to glare at him.

"So?" he asked, taking his own defensive stance.

"So, Ronald," she began. "You can't come back here after that and expect me to jump into bed with you." Holding her head high she waited for him to counter.

"You don't want to be with me because I went to see Lavender last night?" He had the audacity to look innocent as he was asking her that.

"Yes, Ronald. I would at least appreciate it if you showered and washed off that awful smelling perfume before you tried to coerce me into bed with you. I suppose it was too much to hope that you would have even sense of decorum not to going hoping from one woman's bed into another's." Not waiting for a reply she stormed out of the room and out of the Burrow.

She had been setting next to the small pond for nearly an hour when she heard footsteps approaching her. Not bothering to turn around she was only a little surprised to hear Ron's voice. "I've been looking for you."

Snorting Hermione didn't even dignify it by turning around. "You could see me from the Burrow. I highly doubt it took you an hour to deduce that." she snipped, carelessly pulling at grass clumps.

"Well, yeah." he said, stumbling over even those few words. A moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again. "I didn't sleep with Lavender."

Feeling a slight weight lift of her heart Hermione tried hard to believe him. "Who?" The question hung in the air for a moment neither acknowledging that it had been said.

"Who, what?" he finally asked, his voice sounding slightly strained.

"Who if not Lavender?" she asked, still not turning to look at him. "I think I have the right to know." Silence descended upon them again, fading in with the sound of nature around them.

"Her name was Aimee. She went to Beauxbatons." he replied. A small piece of Hermione's heart caved in on itself at his words. No longer being able to hold back she burst into tears, large gulping sobs tearing through her body. The seconds drug along as she continued to shake, her sobs overtaking her body.

A tentative hand pat her shoulder but she quickly jerked away, turning sharply to look at him. "Why?" she managed to ask between sobs.

Heaving a heavy sigh Ron kneeled behind her. "I was fifteen, Hermione. The war was coming and I was scared and she wanted me for whatever reason." he said, looking slightly lost.

The words slowly sunk in as her sobs subsided. He had been fifteen, not last night. "I didn't mean, who was your first." she was barely able to whisper. "I want to know who you were with last night. Just a name, no story. I need to know, Ron."

"But, Hermione, you already know where I was last night. Lavender sent a letter, remember? I went to see her." Ron replied his earlier look of confusion crossing his face once again. "She'd just gotten settled, she'd living in London now, and she wanted to write and say that she was fine. I was so happy to hear from her; you know we all thought she'd died in the First Battle of Hogwarts."

Hermione replayed his words in her mind, praying that they would take on some other meaning then the one she'd gleaned. A short bought of laughter worked its way out of her before she could even try to stop it. "Any port in a storm." she said, the words echoing bitterly in her own ears. It didn't matter that he hadn't slept with her, he had been so happy just to hear from her that he had dropped everything to go to London that night. Glancing at Ron she saw he still looked confuse.

"Any port in a storm?" he asked, seemingly to himself, though his eyes drifted towards her.

Laughing quietly she dried her face. "It's a muggle saying. The war was your storm and I was your port. I really don't blame you." Even as she said the words she knew they were true, she couldn't blame Ron for not loving her, if it was anyone's fault it was her own for not being what he wanted.

The moments ticked by as he continued to stare at her. Finally when he spoke his voice was a little strained. "You think I'm only with you because you were the only option?" He looked mildly hurt, though Hermione wasn't sure why.

"Well, yes. You'd thought Lavender, who you'd never really broken up with, was dead. The war was going on and you wanted something to cling to. Did you honestly think I was naive enough to think that after seven years of waiting for you, that you would suddenly love me out of the blue? Surly you don't take me for that kind of hopeless romantic. I mean really Ronald; you never once showed any interest except for when I was your last option. That doesn't mean that I'm not thankful, because-" The rest of her words were cut off as he quickly and passionately kissed her.

Closing her eyes she allowed herself to fall into the feeling of him. The seconds ticked by like hours, his tongue slowly slipping past her lips to deepen the kiss. Finally pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers. "I've been in love with you, Hermione Granger, since I was twelve years old. It may have taken me a while to realize it but it's always been there. I want you; I want to be with you. Not Lavender, not some random woman, you. You're not just some port, Hermione, your home."

Breaking down into tears again she swiftly pulled him into a kiss, she lost herself in him. Right that second it didn't matter, none of the thoughts that had occupied her in the past twelve hours were important. She had Ron, right here, right now, and if that was all she ever got she would learn to be content. "I love you." he whispered against her lips before pulling her back towards him. This was all she may well ever need.

Fins.

AN: Please review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!