Ten o'clock in the morning, the sun burned steadily over the grounds of Hogwarts castle. In the middle of the third highest tower, what most people knew as Gryffindor tower, the common room was packed full with sleeping visitors. People sleeping fitfully, yet deeply, with fear and satisfaction of the night before, in which the battle of the century took place, and Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, brought about the end of the reign of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Among the fitfully yet deeply sleeping was a one Hermione Granger, who would have been a seventh year student at that time were it not for being on the run from the 'Ministry' looking for Horcruxes with her two best friends: that same Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, and Ron Weasley, the other one. Though without title, Ron would always mean more to Hermione than she could put to words, more than Harry, more than Ginny, more even than her own parents (who at that moment had no idea she existed, living happily in Australia). Ron Weasley was her world, her whole life; Ron Weasley was still sleeping fitfully, yet deeply, next to her when she awoke with a start.
Her eyes flashed open, and she turned her head as fast as her neck wouldn't break to see him next to her, his chest rising and falling steadily. She sighed in relief to see him alive and breathing, for, in waking, she had interrupted her subconscious in torturing her with images of that particular red head falling to the ground in death, hit by a jet of green light. She choked back a sob, but let the salty tears fall from her large brown eyes, down her cheeks, and onto the still rising and falling steadily chest of Ron Weasley. She felt guilty at her joy, for while there was much to be joyous about (the fall of the Dark Lord, the lives of her friends and family), there was still just as much to feel sorrow at (the death of Ron's brother, Fred Weasley, and her two close friends, new parents, Remus and 'Tonks' Lupin). She cried more as she thought of her loss, and how she still was just glad Ron was still alive. Soon, the sobs could not be choked back, and they fell from her throat as her tears fell from her eyes: dripping slowly at first, until forming continuous rivulets.
The sound woke Ron Weasley, but no one else in the common room. He squinted his eyes to see her, Hermione Granger, beautiful even in her grief, crying over him. He moved to put his hand on hers, and she let out an "Oh, Ron!" before lying down besides him again and letting him put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, 'Mione, it's all over now," He said as she cried into his chest. After a few minutes, he stood up and led her to his dormitory for some solitude. They were not expecting to see Harry Potter in his bed, doing something so mundane as sleeping, even though the two of them knew better than any that he was as human as the next hero. What they did not expect to see even more, was Ron's little sister Ginny Weasley sleeping beside him, under his arm. Ron grunted and mumbled inaudibly his hypocritical disapproval. Hermione shook her head at him, so protective. The two of them sat on Ron's four poster, and leaned against the adjacent wall, each clasping the other's hand as though they'd never let go. Hermione still had tears running down her cheeks as she laid her head on Ron's shoulder and as he ran a hand through her large brown hair. They sat in silence for over an hour, just staring ahead at the world, of which the shed skin had to be cleaned up before a new coat could be grown. They didn't want to move, they didn't want to speak, they only wanted to be together, they only wanted to feel each other's touch.
Eventually, from an hour's worth of subtle shifting, of moving just so, they came again to be lying next to each other on his bed. And their faces inches apart, their eyes met. As in any significantly intense eye contact, many things were exchanged, but unspoken. For instance, the next year or so would be hard. They would suffer. But all the while they would stick together, no matter what. For instance, Harry and Ginny would be together again, and Ron's complaining wouldn't stop it. For instance, she would have to go to Australia to retrieve her parents, and he would stay in Britain to be with his family as they recouped their losses. Many, many things went from the brown eyes to the blue, and back, but perhaps the most important, was the knowledge, the pure, solid truth, that she loved him, and he loved her, and that would never change, ever. With that said--or, rather, not said--he kissed her softly, and fell asleep, and she returned his kiss, and fell into a similar sleep. A sleep filled with dreams of their lives together, rather than nightmares of one's life without the other, dreams of the new world, yet to come, that they would help build, and dreams of each other, and their unbreakable, unspeakable, unimaginable love.
When Harry awoke, Ginny awoke with him, they would be on the same schedule for a while afterwords, so as to spend every waking moment together. They stood to leave the dormitory, not knowing what to expect outside the comfort of bed. But they were Gryffindors, they were brave, they would face whatever work needed to be done without complaint. Still, they were nervous, and it was a comfort to them to pass their two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, sleeping in Ron's bed together, hands held so tightly, you'd think they'd never let go, and in ways, they didn't.
A/N Well. I've been wanting to do a Ron & Hermione fic for a while. This is a little bit too wordy, I know, but review anyway!