Time Wasted

Summary: DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILER WARNINGS!!!! Right after the end of Deathly Hallows, Ron and Hermione sit in the common room. Time should not be wasted, as they have learned from old friends. Ron/Hermione and reference to Remus/Tonks.

Author's Note: I didn't feel Rona nd Hermione had quite enough shine on their relationship in DH. So I added this little scene at the end to pick up where it left off. Just a oneshot, but I hope you like it. Please review.

The footsteps slowly faded up the staircase. As they listened, the pair sitting down below heard, with no real feeling, the door to a dormitory shut. The room in which they sat was then filled with silence. But this silence was not awkward or painful. No. It was calm, serene, almost mournful, though the pressure of intense sadness was oddly absent.

The two people remaining in the room sat only a few feet apart from one another, their eyes never meeting. Hermione sat, perched on the end of an arm chair, unable to let herself sink back into its depths. For some odd reason, she cold not allow herself to be comfortable – not when there were so many things lingering on her mind. She stared out at the rising sun coming in through the window across from her. She found it odd. It felt as theough it should be late in the night, nearly time to turn in, not seven or eight in the morning.

Her companion sat on the couch perpendicular to her chair, his head turned to stare out the same window, his fingers running carelessly through his red hair. Ron had not spoken in quite a while.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione glanced at him. At last, she work up the nerve to speak, though it cost her a great effort, and she did not know why. "A-Aren't youu going to go upstairs and go to bed as well?" Her voice sounded concerned, almost urging, though she found that she really didn't want him to go – not when this was their first moment alone since . . . but no. That was so unimportant now. How? How could she possibly still have that on her mind after everything… after Fred.

/Ron shook his head, not looking at her. After a long moment he said, "I don't fancy myself that tired. I don't think I could sleep, even if I wanted to . . . I really don't see how Harry can."

"I do," Hermione said, quietly. "As tragic, as scary, as painful as its all been, think of the relief. The whole world has just been taken off his shoulders, Ron. This may be the best sleep he has or will ever have."

"Maybe," Ron said, quietly.

Hermione was silent, not knowing what to say next. She didn't dare say what she wanted to say – not now, for certain. That is, she didn't know if she'd ever be able to say it, even if the time was appropriate, the setting was better, and the mood was less solumn. She was, as much as she hated to admit it, afraid of the thoughts, the unspoken words, that she longed to speak to the boy – no – the man, in front of her.

"I wonder how the family is getting on," Ron said, speaking at last, still looking out the window.

"Oh," Hermione said, seizing on the subject. "Do you think they're looking for us? We didn't tell them that we were leaving or anything."

"Nah," Ran said, shaking his head. "They'll be too busy fussing over Mum. I still can't believe she…"

"She … killed Bellatrix?" Hermione supplied, quietly.

"Well, yeah," Ron said, turning to face Hermione. "But that wasn't what I was going to say. She… she swore. Did you hear her? You must have. Half the hall did. She called Bellatrix a bitch." He at the ground, scuffing his food on the carpet. "I've hared her yell at Dad and at all of us a million times… but I've never heard her swear before."

Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly. How strange was it that, through all of tonight's events, Ron was still in shock over his mother's fowl language? Of all things to be shocked about… really…

He shook his head and looked back up, coming out a reverie. "Anyway," he said. "I'm sure they arne't worried. There… there isn't anything to worry about anymore."

It hadn't hit Hermione until just then – at that moment when Ron said it. He was right. There wasn't anything to worry about anymore. Voldemort was dead.

Voldemort was dead.

"Hermione… you alright?"

Hermione jerked her head. She seemed to have gone into a slight daze as Ron said this, but his voice called her back. She stared at him, unseeing for a moment, then cleared her head and smiled. "I… I'm great," she said. "Nothing to worry about anymore." She hesitated a long moment. "Ron… Ron, I'm sorry… so sorry about… about Fred."

Ron looked away again, shaking his head. "Nah," he said. "That's how Fred would have wanted to die. He'd be ashamed of himself if he died of old age. He'd want to die in a battle … and with a smile on his face." His voice shook slightly. "I'm more concerned, really, about George. He didn't look too good when we were down there… he's lost his best friend."

Hermione looked at Ron, piteously. She knew what he meant. George had lost the only one who really knew him. His twin. His brother. His best friend. It would be like her losing Harry or…. Or Ron.

It was then that those unspoken, much feared words poured back into her, making her heard feel heavy again. She bit her lip, thinking, briefly, that she could still taste his lips – where they'd been on hers. She felt stupid – a feeling Hermione was not used to. Stupid. She had the worst timing, the worst judgment. She'd kissed him – in the midst of a battle – a battle in which so many had died. She should have waited. She should have resisted that fleeting instinct. Now, all that was on her mind was that moment, and she feared it wouldn't be recaptured. With the deaths of Fred and so many others, she wouldn't blame Ron if he wanted to forget everything about that night… everything.

Hermione felt suddenly ashamed. Here she was, only an hour after the death of the most deadly dark wizard of the age, only an hour after their best friend had survived – amazingly survived, and she was thinking about some stupid kiss that had been the product of pure impulse.

Impulse.

Yes, that had been it. She'd only kissed Ron because of her sudden surge of gratitude for his sensitivity towards the elves down in the kitchen. That had been it. She'd kissed him before… on the cheek. It had just been impulse – or it had started that way.

She remembered, with a pang, the way Ron had dropped everything in his arms, thrown them around her, and kissed her back – not pulling away or pushing her back with a sheepish, embarrassed scowl like she'd half expected. With another pang several other things flashed through her head. Ron offering to lie and claim her as family to save her life. Ron asking Bellatrix to torture him instead. Ron pulling her from the wreckage of the chandelier, carrying her to Bill and Fleur's house. Ron murmuring her name in his sleep when he was in the hospital wing the year before.

It hit her then – and she felt like a fool. She'd always known Ron cared, but the level on which his affection was had remained unclear to her. She knew he was a jealous prat, but she'd shrugged it off as his inferiority complex, his thirst to be viewed as just as good as others. She'd never thought… she'd never expected…

And she'd thought Ron was thick, dense, clueless. In reality, she was just, if not more, dense as the red-head before her.

Hermione shook her head again, completely shocked at her realization – yet it wasn't surprising now that she thought of it. It was painfully obvious once she analyzed it, and that just made it all too much worse. How foolish had shee been?

She looked at Ron, coming out of her thought. She was glad he wasn't look at her, that he hadn't noticed her momentary lapse of reality.

"Hermione," Ron said, still looking out the window. "I've been thinking about something."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. She shrugged it off. "About what?" she asked, calmly, almost carelessly.

"About… about Lupin and Tonks," he said. Hermione was sure that he was determinedly not looking at her. "They… they were only married a year… less than a year, before they… they died."

Hermione did not speak, feeling that Ron had more to say, even if it were going to take him a moment to get it out. The question is, what was he going to say? She was curious and uncertain.

"It makes you think," Ron began again, his voice, Hermione could tell, was forced into firmness. "They loved each other for a long time before, and … and Lupin was too big of a prat to let her get close to him."

"Ron," Hermione said, a hint of scolding in her voice as he called Lupin a prat.

Ron ignored her, forcing himself to continue. "If they'd just sucked it up, just come clean and admitted how they felt, if he'd gotten over his pride … then they'd have had more time together… loads more, really." He paused again, this time turning to look at Hermione at last, his blue eyes firm. "I can't say my reasons were as noble as Remus's. He was trying to protect Tonks. I… I was just to proud and … and scared to admit it, but I… I…"

Ron never got to finish that sentence.

In a split second Hermione was on the couch next to Ron – though she didn't remember standing or moving from her seat. Without knowing what she was doing, Hermione had put her hand on the young man's cheek, his head turning to look down at her. His blue eyes widened with shock and a flicker of fear, but this quickly faded.

Hermione was not the one to move forward this time.

She closed her eyes quickly as she was suddenly hit with his kiss. His lips pressed against hers as she felt his arms surround her, one hand supporting her head, the other pressing into her back, pulling her as close to him as possible.

The hand Hermione had placed on Ron's cheek fell limply away, dangling down near her side – a result of her temporary shock. Once this had passed, Hermione lifted her arms again, snaking one around his neck, tightly, and slipping the other into his hair, ruffling the thick, red locks with her fingers. She parted her lips slightly, letting the kiss wash over her, blocking out everything else until nothing existed but the two of them.

A time came when it was a necessity for the couple's lips to part, due to the irksome need to breath. However, they didn't separate too far. Their arms still remained firm around each other, with their lips only separated by an inch or so.

"I should've done that a long time ago," Ron said, catching his breath. "I should've done it last year… Hell, I should have done it in our fourth year."

Hermione felt her already scorching face grow even redder. Fourth year? He'd had thoughts of this since fourth year? How could she have missed it? How could she have shrugged off his jealousy as inferiority?

"I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner," Ron went on. "I'm sorry I was too stupid to—"

"Oh, come off it, Ron," Hermione said, sighing. "We both know you only had the nerve to kiss me just now because I kissed you earlier. I'm the one who made the move, not you."

Ron's ears went red.

An argument set in at this point over the circumstances under which both kisses had occurred. This argument was punctuated every few minutes by another long kiss… or, rather, the snogging was punctuated every few minutes by the argument, only when breath had to be obtained.

Ron and Hermione agreed on one thing. Time should nto be wasted. Lupin had wasted time trying to protect Tonks. He'd wasted time separating himself from her for "her own good" when, if he'd been honest with himself, had been at her side, had allowed himself to love her, their time together would have been more than just a year. Time was not to be wasted, and while arguments would come, Ron and Hermione would not waste any of their time letting their arguments part them – not when they had so many years to make up for already.

Lucky for them, they had many, many years of kisses, arguments, children, and happiness ahead of them. Many years that Tonks and Lupin, by all means, should have had.