AN: Hopefully you enjoy this little shot about what happens just after the seventh book ends, and before the epilogue. Sorry if it was OOC, I tried to give it the somberness it required but also stay true to the characters. Reviews are loved!

Obviously the characters and history of said characters are not mine, and good thing too or I'm thinking they'd be much less successful than they currently are.

"I can't believe it's over," Hermione sighed, leaning her head back against the chair in Ron and Harry's old dormitories.

"Blimey, I'm glad it is," Ron sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

Hermione watched him for a moment and smiled. Her world had turned so upside down, but Ron was still here and, though he had changed, he was still himself. Next, she turned to look at Harry and smirked. He'd fallen asleep in the same dirty clothes he'd worn for days, his glasses still on. His face was pressed into his pillow and his breathing was deep and even.

"Ron," she whispered, turning to glance at him. To her surprise, he was already staring at her.

"Hmm?" he asked, his ears turning pink. He glanced at his shoes and ran a hand uncomfortably through his hair.

As much as this reaction from Ron gave her a happy, tingly feeling, she couldn't help but flush as well. "Ah well Harry's asleep … maybe we should-" she gestured toward the dormitory door. Ron nodded and muttered some words of assent before standing and following her out.

However, as soon as she passed through the doorway, she wished she'd stayed inside. "What is it?" Ron asked as he came to a halt behind her. Then he noticed the room around them and gasped. During the time they'd spent alone in the dormitories, the Gryffindor common room had transformed into somewhat of a mourning hall. Groups of weeping students, families and friends had filled in all the sofas, love seats that were already there, as well as conjuring up some extra seating. There were even some people huddled on the floor.

Hermione bit her lip as her throat began to burn. There was something about seeing people cry that set her going as well, especially after a day like today. She didn't want to cry though. She wanted nothing more than to find somewhere that seemed the slightest bit familiar in this castle she used to call home and stay there with Ron and no one else. Maybe if she was there long enough, she could forget that everything had changed.

"C'mon," Ron suddenly whispered, and grabbing her elbow, gently guided her across, around and between the sea of mourners. There was Dean Thomas, awkwardly patting a sobbing Dennis Creevey on the back, silent tears dripping down his own face. Romilda Vane was there as well, her face in her hands. Hermione remembered seeing Romilda's best friend, a Hufflepuff, among the dead and cringed. They walked passed Padma Patil, a Ravenclaw, with her arms around the shaking body of her sister, Parvati. Hermione thought of the lifeless body of her old rival, Lavender Brown.

Before she could help it, a tear slid down her cheek. Throughout all of sixth year, Hermione had felt nothing but bitterness, envy and spite for the girl, but they had been roommates for five years before that. She couldn't help but remember that she never had apologized for the rift that had grown between them.

Suddenly Ron's hand was sliding down her arm to grab her hand. He laced his fingers with her own and squeezed tight, as though he had read her thoughts. Glancing up at him gratefully, she wasn't surprised to see that he too had a couple of tears dripping down his nose. She dropped his hand in favor of sliding her arm around his waist in a gesture that recently had become like second nature. His arm fell around her shoulders with the same familiarity as they finally made it to the portrait hole.

Before they could push it open, however, the portrait swung towards them. Ginny stood on the other side, her face pale and drawn. Her eyes held their old determination however, as she took in her brother and her best friend with him.

"Harry?" she implored, her eyes wide with question.

"He's sleeping in our dormitories," Ron told her, a trace of his brotherly protectiveness back. "He's real tired Gin."

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned her elbow just enough into his side that he knew it was a reprimand. "He'd want to see you more than anyone Ginny; I don't think he'll mind at all if you wake him," she told the anxious red head, ignoring Ron's displeased grunt from beside her. Ginny shot her a grateful smile, and, with a look of trepidation at the sorrowful sight that used to be their common room, made her way across it.

Ron and Hermione continued their way into the hall. The sight there was no more comforting than the common room. Tapestries, shattered glass, dead plants, broken wood and bloodstains littered the immediate area, and, Hermione had a feeling, the area beyond. Paintings were slashed, and the homeless people left without a frame were grouped in neighboring pictures. The Fat lady's group of drunken friends were sleeping around a landscape of what looked to be miles of prairie grass.

"Reparo," Ron's voice suddenly cut through the silence, and Hermione glanced over to see him pointing his wand at the nearest window. The glass that had been in pieces on the ground flew up to the window and magically restored itself.

"Oh, right, good idea Ron," Hermione murmured, and pulled out her own wand.

"It's been known to happen," Ron smirked back at her, but without any real defense. She smiled back, warmly, and recognized it as his trying to fall back into their old routine. Maybe it would take some time, but she knew that they both wanted it to be possible.

"Mm … on some rare occasions that I can recall," she shrugged, and turned away to return a tapestry to its rightful position with a smile on her face.

"Such as that time I reminded you that you could conjure a fire without wood?" he retorted from behind her, still waving his wand around them. She saw him clear a stairwell of a splatter of blood out of the corner of her eye.

"I was nervous! Not to mention, I was only a first year. Honestly," she snapped haughtily, but she was having trouble keeping the grin off of her face. Spinning around to face him, she was just in time to see him roll his eyes before shoving his wand in his pocket, stepping forward, and yanking her forward to press his lips to hers.

Despite the heated moment and spontaneity of the kiss, it was everything slow, gentle and sweet. One of her hands pressed flat against his chest, and the other reached up to thread through his hair. He had one hand gently caressing her cheek and jaw while the other tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

He pulled away far too quickly, but only to squeeze her tightly against his chest. He buried his head in her hair, his chin resting just above her forehead.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Hermione closed her eyes and relished in the utter warmth and comfort that radiated from Ron, and the heart beat that she could feel under her cheek.

"I am so glad you're all right," he murmured against her hair, and she could hear in the way that his words quivered that he was nervous to be saying it. Even after they'd kissed twice now, quite shamelessly in fact, he still had a hard time admitting how he felt to her.

The thought made her grow even fonder of him, and as she thought about his words, and how easily one of them could have gone forever, she understood just what he meant. Leaning up a little, she pressed her mouth timidly to his jaw. She felt his pulse quicken and smiled to herself. "Me too Ron," she whispered, and sighed as his mouth found hers again.