I leaned back in my armchair by the fire, watching two teenagers on the rug playing Wizard's Chess. One was 14 and one was 16. The girl was the oldest, and she was blowing her black hair out of her face as she waited for her brother to move his piece, which he'd been fingering for five minutes. She looked over at her mother, who was sitting on the couch, reading a story to another little boy, who was 5, and then over to her father, who was on the other end of the rug, tickling his daughter, who was 9.

"Mum, make Rupert go! He's been sitting there for five minutes!" Her mother looked up from the story and the little boy made a disgruntled noise, as though he'd just been woken.

"Mummy! I want you to read the story to me!" The boy called Rupert moved his knight an "L" shape, but when his sister wasn't watching, he moved it one square over. She turned just in time.

"MUM! HE'S CHEATING!" Her mother pretended not to notice. I smiled to myself as I sipped my tea.

"Yeah, Gin. He cheated!" Ginny looked up from the story and scowled at me. I smiled back at her and hid behind my cup, watching her over the brim, trying not to laugh.

"I didn't cheat, you liar!" Rupert yelled back. "MUM! Emma's blaming me because she's gonna lose!" The father looked up.

"Emma! Rupert! That's enough, honestly! If it's that much trouble, just put the chess set away." At this time, the 5 year old slid of Ginny's lap and ran over to the chess set.

"I wanna play!" Ginny huffed and put the book down.

"What happened to reading the story? It's about Dumbledore, remember?" Ginny waved the book around and nearly knocked out Harry, who had just sat down next to her. I gulped down a laugh, knowing that Ginny and Harry loved their kids, no matter what.

"Gin," Harry said seriously, "you could read to me about Dumbledore. Is he someone I know?" Ginny gave him a look and he fell silent. I sat up, watching them. The other girl, who had been being tickled, then ran over.

"Let's play hide and seek!" Emma rolled her eyes.

"Let's not," she said, extremely matter of factly. Ginny looked at her reproachfully, then said, "Emma and Rupert, clean up the chess set. Dan, Sammi, please sit down. Why don't we ask Aunt Hermione to tell us a story?" Ginny looked over at me and I shrugged. I knew a lot of stories, having read so much in my life.

Five minutes later, everyone was seated in front of me, cups of steaming cider in their hands. "What kind of story shall I tell?" I asked the room in general.

"Underwater adventure!" Dan yelled, moving his glasses further up his nose.

"Mermaids!" Sammi screeched.

"War stories!" Rupert said, shoving his red hair out of his face.

"How about something realistic," Emma suggested. "Like…oooh! Aunt Hermione, can you tell us about the first man you loved? First kiss and everything?" She looked up at me expectantly. The other three looked repulsed at first, but they'd never heard me talk about it, and they were all interested. I faltered, glancing at Ginny, who looked horrorstruck at the boldness of this request. Harry looked just as nonplussed.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, but I have to warn you, there may be some tears…and not just from me." The four children turned to look at their parents, who nodded. Silence fell, and I cupped my tea between my hands.

"A few years ago, there was a very evil man named Voldemort…"

flashback

"Ron?" I whispered softly, sitting next to his bed in the Hospital Wing. I saw his eyes stir beneath their lids. My heart leapt. "Ron, can you hear me?" I whispered, excited. His eyelids opened a crack, and he looked at me blurrily.

"Her…mi…Hermione?" He said, so softly I almost didn't hear him.

"Yes, Ron, yes. It's me. How're you feeling?" He sank his head into the pillows, closing his eyes again. He shook his head, then let out a whimper of pain and put both his hands on his forehead, pressing so hard, his knuckles turned white with pressure. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Head…my head…hurts…" he said, quieter than before. I could tell that every word caused him pain.

"I know, Madam Pomfrey says that it'll clear up, though. She thinks your migraines will go away soon." I choked back a sob. She had said nothing of the sort, but it was the only way I could think to soothe him. He nodded slowly, trying not to move his head more than a few inches. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I wiped them away hurriedly. I didn't want him to see me cry.

"Ron, guess what?" I said, trying to cheer him up. "We won. Voldemort's gone. We did it." He smiled slightly.

"I know. I remember. Where's Harry?"

I glanced over my shoulder, listening to the quiet laughter of the couple, obviously enjoying the unlimited and unhampered time they had together. "He's with Ginny, in the bed around the corner. She's okay," I added hastily, for he looked stricken as he could without causing himself pain. "Madam Pomfrey says she just needs a few days to recover from a broken skull." He nodded again and lay back down, sighing as he did so. We didn't talk anymore. I watched him drift back to sleep, worrying, as I always did, about whether he would wake up again. I shook my head, trying not to think about what could happen, and trying to focus on what Ron needed now. He let out a snore and I grinned a little, in spite of myself. I could always count on Ron to make me feel better, no matter how down I was. With a pang, I wondered what would happen when he was gone. Again I shooed the thought out of my head, forcing myself to think about the good times we'd had together.

I heard footsteps behind me, but didn't turn around. I knew who it was.

"Hermione?" Harry said slowly behind me, as though it was me on my deathbed, not Ron. "How…how is he?" I tried my utmost not to cry as I summoned the strength to turn and face him.

"He says his head hurts," I whispered, knowing if I spoke any louder, the dam would break. I gave him a slight, brave smile. "He remembers you winning." I felt a few tears enter my eyes as my cheeks pushed up, but I forced them not to pour. I was proud of myself for staying strong, and I wasn't going to crack so easily. He nodded slightly and smiled back, but even I could tell it was fake. We all knew what was going to happen.

"Hermione, I…I'm really sorry. But there was nothing we could have done." I mentally shut my ears to his words. I didn't want to hear that. It wasn't certain. Ron might not be resigned to that fate.

I eventually heard him walk away, back to Ginny, and I once again kneeled over Ron, and began to rub his back, as I knew it hurt. He had said so. I could feel all the broken bones that had been mended as I massaged over his skin, hidden under his shirt. His robes, ripped, muddy, and torn were hanging next to his bed. As I rubbed, my thoughts subconsciously drifted back to the battle: The lights flashing, the giants pounding their clubs in every direction, Ron collapsing under a spell sent by Voldemort himself, then the final face-off between Harry and Voldemort. I glanced at Ron again to make sure he was still breathing and put my hand on his wrist to check his pulse. He seemed normal. I sighed and stopped rubbing him, feeling his forehead. It was scalding. I took a wet towel from the bedside table and put it on his forehead, then moved to the end of the bed and began to rub his feet, trying to draw the fever from his head.

Days passed in this way. I never left Ron's side, and I slept in the bed next to his. Madam Pomfrey knew why I wouldn't leave, and never bothered me. Harry also came in every day with Ginny to check on his progress, which never got worse, but never got better.

Two weeks after the battle, the entire Weasley family (not including Percy) came to see Ron. Fleur sat next to me, and I was thankful for the female presence who knew what I was going through. Mr. Weasley took the chair on the other side of the bed and watched Ron stirring in his sleep, as though having a nightmare. Mrs. Weasley glanced at me and then at Ron. She had been in to see him six times, and each time had questioned me on whether there was any progress. I was thankful she didn't ask this time, for I dreaded to give the answer.

Ron, over the course of a few days, had deteriorated in his health. With each passing hour, he was becoming weaker. It was also becoming harder for me not to cry. My dreams were wrought with Ron, white as parchment, dead on the bed. Or else, walking into the Hospital Wing, and his bed empty, with only folded sheets at the foot of the mattress. I never got more than three hours of sleep, five at the most, and was always watching him, trying to stay awake as long as possible. I hadn't eaten in two and a half days, but found that I wasn't at all hungry. My stomach seemed to be eating itself, and as far as I was concerned, I couldn't have cared less. After an hour or so, the Weasleys left. Mrs. Weasley giving me a bracing hug as she went.

I bade goodbye, then sat back down, biting my nails, a new habit I had developed. Suddenly, Ron sat up, straight as and arrow. I immediately leapt up and ran to him.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" He looked at me, his eyes wide.

"You…I was…you were…" My heart, which had been pounding in my skull, sank back to its regular spot.

"It's okay, Ron. Here, lay back down." I helped him get comfortable again. "It was just a dream," I said softly, smoothing his blankets and fixing his pillows. "Just a dream." His eyes were still open, but didn't look quite so scared.

"Hermione, I…I dreamed that…" I shushed him.

"Don't tell me. I don't want to hear." I continued to smooth his blankets, but he roughly pushed my hands away, grabbing them in his own. I didn't care that they were sweaty and sticky.

"I want to tell you. I i need /i to tell you," he said, pulling me down next to him on the bed. I obeyed and sat, ready to listen, bracing myself. He took a great, raspy breath. "Hermione, I know what you're all trying to hide from me. I can feel it. You're denying it, but it has to happen, and we're all powerless t stop it. Especially you. I know I'm going to die, Hermione." I gasped and shuddered, a chill running down my spine.

"Don't say that," I breathed, but he propped himself up so that he was sitting against his headboard.

"But it's true. I know I am, and I'm terrified, but I know it's nothing compared to how you feel." He took another breath and slowed down. "Hermione, do you remember in the first year, when you showed me how to do the Levitation Spell, and I was really nasty to you?" I nodded. Why would he bring that up? That was a terrible memory. "And then in second year, when you were unpetrified, you hugged Harry, but not me?" I nodded again, wondering where this was going. "And in third year, when you and Harry went back in time, and I had to stay in the Hospital Wing, wondering what was happening. And in fourth year, when you went to the Ball with Krum, and in fifth year, when you got knocked out in the Department of Mysteries, and in sixth year, when Dumbledore died?"

I felt tears coming again. "Yes, Ron, I remember all of it," I managed to force out, not knowing if I'd be able to speak again.

Ron closed his eyes. I gasped silently, realizing what he was about to do. "Hermione," he whispered, "I dreamed that I had died, and when I looked down at you, you were crying next to my bed. And I had never got to tell you, never had the courage." He looked me straight in the eyes and leaned forward, towards me. His nose was nearly touching mine, but he moved his mouth right next to my ear and whispered softly into it. "But now, I finally found it inside me, my courage. And I don't have to worry when I do this." He moved his lips to the cheek nearest my ear and kissed it. "Or this." He moved to my other cheek and kissed it. "Or this." He kissed my forehead. "Or this." He kissed my neck and chin. Then he let go of my hands and replaced them, shaking, one on my cheek and one on the other side of my face. "Or this." And he kissed me on the lips. I felt all my sorrows wash over me as he kissed me, reminding me of all the times we'd fought, and those where we'd been so close to admitting our feelings, days studying for exams, and times where we were the Trio, standing side by side with Harry, ready to fight to the death. After a while, he eased back, closing his eyes.

"I have good timing," he said in a low voice. My breath caught in my throat and my heart started racing.

"What do you mean," I asked, knowing the answer.

"I have to go, Hermione. I can see them, Dumbledore and Sirius. They're right there." He pointed to the end of his bed, gazing at what I couldn't see. And feeling something completely different from the grief I'd been wallowing in for so long, I smiled, noting that I was truly smiling, and not forcing myself to be strong. He was ready, and so was I. I turned my smile on him.

"Go," I whispered, stroking his hair. "You're ready. Say hi to Sirius for me. And thank Dumbledore for being such a great Headmaster." He nodded, and as he gave his last breath, I was beaming. I looked up at the ceiling, watching in my head, the boy who I'd loved, leaving his mortal self behind, and climbing the stairs in a dazzling white robe. No longer a boy, but a man; a man who, just before he left, turned back to me and smiled back, mouthing the words, 'I love you,' before he disappeared.

end flashback

I finished speaking and surveyed my audience. Ginny was hiccupping from silent tears, and Harry was looking sullen. I closed my eyes, letting a few tears loose, before I blinked back at the four children on the hearthrug. Emma had tears in her eyes, and the rest of them looked very sad.

Emma looked at her mother. "Uncle Ron?" she questioned. Ginny nodded, and Emma looked at her feet, sitting in silence for a while. "I'm sorry I made you tell that," she finally whispered. I shook my head.

"No, sweetheart. It was just bad luck. But it turned out okay in the end. And I'm still here, and sometimes, if I listen closely enough, I can still hear him whispering to me."

Emma looked up at me. "I guess, sometimes, the hardest thing to do is say goodbye." I nodded slowly, sipping my tea, and thinking. Slowly, everyone stood up and stretched, and Ginny left to tuck the kids into bed. Soon, it was just me and Harry left in the room.

"I'm proud of you, Hermione," he said, and I smiled at him.

"Thanks," I answered, and I smiled at him over the brim of my mug.