A/N: Just a little short thing; was bored and needed something new, and also…I'd never done these two so I thought I'd give it a shot. (: I love writing things done AFTER the war, it really gets me emotionally.
I really hope you enjoy this; if you don't, it might actually break my heart.
Hermione laughed and closed her eyes; she and Ron were lying in the grass in the front yard of the Burrow.
The war ended three days ago but there were so many deaths the prophet was mainly full of obituaries; the shock of Fred's passing was hitting the Weasley family hard.
Mr. Weasley was tense and quiet always, Mrs. Weasley constantly crying; George, Fred's twin, was silent. Never talking, never saying a word; Ron was okay as long as Hermione was around, but as soon as she left he felt the entirety of watching his older brother die weigh on him like an elephant standing on his shoulders.
She lifted up on her elbows and looked at Ron's watch; "It's getting late," She said getting to her feet and dusting herself off, "I should go."
Ron sighed and stood up.
She smiled and hugged him tightly. He snaked his arms around her and kissed her.
He felt her smile against his lips and put her hands on his face.
She slowly broke the kiss, not moving away, keeping her eyes closed, "I have to go."
He kissed her again pulling her in. He felt so stupid for waiting so long to do this.
She grinned again, talking softly against his lips; "Darling, I really must go."
He sighed and let go of her, "Can I see you tomorrow?"
She smiled and hugged him once more, "You don't even have to ask."
At that she stepped back, smiled at him, and turned on the spot.
Ron stayed there, starring at the spot Hermione had just left, for a while. He could feel the sadness sinking in.
He walked inside his newly rebuilt house.
It looked the same, only bigger; Harry now had his own room, George moved to the attic, Ginny and Ron's rooms were bigger, and there was two new guest rooms; other than that…it looked the same.
Ron dropped down in the chair across from the couch. On the couch sat Ginny and Harry: Her head was on his shoulder and her eyes were closed; she was almost as close with Fred as George was.
She never cried in front of anyone except Harry anymore but she was sallow, small, sad.
Harry's arm was draped across her lap; He looked at Ron and nodded, "Alright, mate?"
Ron looked at him, "Brilliant."
Harry nodded understanding: Harry blamed himself.
"I'm going to bed," Ron said standing, "Don't beat yourself up," he said to Harry.
He nodded, "Back at you."
Ron patted Ginny's head as he walked by; she smiled a little sadly not opening her eyes.
Ron looked back at his best friend and younger sister as he went up the stairs; Harry was whispering to her; her face screwed up in sadness. She clung to him as he held her close.
Ron was glad it was Harry and not anyone else who was with Ginny.
People could easily pretend to feel bad, rub her back and tell her it's all okay…but he knew Harry. Harry understood their pain more than even we did and ultimately somehow gave us all a shred of hope that someday, though not right away, things would get better.
Ron passed Percy's room as he walked up the stairs. George, Percy, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie were all sitting around a flame talking: George as usual pale-faced and silent.
Ron continued on to his room, closing and locking the door behind him.
He waved his wand toward the door, "Muffliato."
He always did that; he couldn't stand to hear his family cry and he couldn't stand the thought of them hearing him.
He laid on his back on his bed; starring up at the ceiling.
He closed his eyes, letting the pain set in; he could feel himself start to shake as silent, uncontrollable, tears slid down his cheeks, a constant stream.
He wasn't sure how long it had been when he heard a faint 'pop' from within his closet.
He thought his ears were playing tricks on him, so he didn't react until he heard someone quietly walking toward him.
He felt a cool hand on his chest; it slid up his neck and to his cheek.
He opened his eyes to see Hermione looking down at him, her face full of concern.
He tried to smile at her but his face screwed up and he pulled her close. She lay next to him, sliding under the covers.
He hated to be weak, but with Hermione, he knew she wouldn't look at him any different, if anything she'd think more of him. So he whispered to her; his face buried in her neck and hair, "Please don't leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered rubbing his back slowly.
That's when he knew; No matter what happened or how stupid he could be; Harry and Hermione would always be there when they really needed each other; in all aspects.
That's also when he realized; he loved her. He knew it.
He'd never known what love was until that very moment; as Hermione rubbed his back and Ron breathed in her smell.
He loved her with every drop in him;
And he could promise he'd never forget that.