Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters nor am I making any profit from this. It all belongs to JK and that's how it should be.

A/N: This is the first time I've strayed into the Harry Potter fandom to write/read fanfiction, pretty shocking really since I've been a fan for ten years! This chapter is mostly from Hermione's point of view only because it worked better that way, I imagine the rest is going to be Ron's point of view.

1.

His room was the same, decorated in old Chudley Cannons memorabilia, chocolate frog wrappers overflowing the small bin and somehow still a mess despite the fact he hadn't been in it for the best part of the year. It was good to see some things just never changed. Because change had happened a lot recently and Hermione had decided she hated it.

She wished they could go back to those carefree days where she'd curl up on the corner of a couch in the Gryffindor common room peeking over the top of her book as she watched Harry and Ron play chess. Though things hadn't really been that carefree even back then, had they? Sometimes she even wished for those days before any of this, before Harry, before Ron, before Hogwarts and even before she found out what she was. It was a terrible thing to wish for really, she loved this new world, she loved her friends and being a witch but perhaps it would have been simpler, never to know, safer for sure.

They had come through all of this though, in the end, and things could only get better from here on. At least that was what she told herself. Once the battle had been over, the injured taken care of and the dead mourned, Harry and Hermione had gone back to The Burrow with the Weasleys. It had felt awkward. They had just lost Fred, Harry and Hermione had felt awkward, surely the family just wanted to be alone, to grieve for Fred but Mrs Weasley being Mrs Weasley had insisted that the two stay with them for a little while. Hermione had nowhere to go until she found her parents in Australia and no one wanted Harry going off to Grimmauld Place by himself.

Once back at The Burrow things had been even more awkward. Everyday there was a funeral to attend and there was never anytime to speak to Ron. When the funerals were all over Harry left for Grimmauld Place, he took Ginny with him, something Mrs. Weasley hadn't been too happy about but she was too drained to argue. Hermione felt she had outstayed her welcome too and, without Harry or Ginny for support, living at The Burrow was even more difficult. Ron wouldn't talk to her and so she had left. Left to go and find her parents in Australia. Her and Ron had talked about how she would do this often. She had always been sure he had brought it up to give her a light at the end of the tunnel, something to look forward to once the search for the horcruxes was over, he had told her he would come with her and she had wanted nothing more. Instead he wasn't talking to her and she was searching alone.

Two months had passed since then. Hermione had found her parents, she had restored their memories, they had forgiven her even if her Father was still a little angry and things were back to normal. Except they weren't. Ron still hadn't spoken to her. She hadn't made an effort to get in touch with him, no, but she had hoped perhaps he would try and contact her. She had spoken to Harry, had even stayed at Grimmauld Place with him and Ginny but nothing from Ron. It hurt. And that was why she had made the decision, no matter how hard, to go to The Burrow and demand that he at least acknowledge her.

Mrs. Weasley had greeted her as she always had with an embrace and a smile but the smile didn't reach her eyes anymore. They had all lost too much; it would take a long time to repair. Ron had been in the shower when she arrived but Mrs. Weasley had told her she could wait in his room if she wanted. Staying downstairs would have been awkward and if she was in his room he couldn't avoid her as easily.

Hermione never had been patient and couldn't have just sat there waiting for him and so instead she walked around the familiar room. One of his Chudley Cannons posters was falling down and so she reached up to fasten it back onto the wall as she did she knocked over the small wastebin and hurriedly knelt down to pick it back up. It was mostly full of screwed up paper and various sweet wrappers which she shoved back into it but one thing stood out; a small figurine. She picked it up and stood back up studying it. Hermione recognised the figurine instantly as being the one Ron had purchased at the Quidditch World Cup four years ago, it was of Viktor Krum the Bulgarian Seeker, or at least it had been but it was now missing its head. Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly at what Ron had done to it, she'd never seen his 'work' on it before but she could hazard a guess at it being something to do with Krum taking her to the Yule Ball. Ron had never been happy about that, calling Viktor a 'git' amongst other things, not that he'd ever come out and told her why he had had such a problem with her and Krum.

She set the figurine down on the chest of drawers beside her, not having the heart to throw something away that possibly proved he had been jealous of Krum. Or at least that was how she liked to think of his feelings towards the Bulgarian. After another glance around the attic bedroom she sat down on his bed, it still sunk in the middle and the springs creaked as you made contact with it and being Hermione she couldn't just leave it that way. Standing back up she took out her wand, pointed it at the bed and muttered "Reparo".

"What are you doing?"

His voice surprised her, making her jump a little as she turned around to face him. His hair was wet from the shower, a towel was flung over his shoulder and his eyes held no emotion she wanted to dwell upon. She had hoped he'd be happy to see her, she wasn't surprised at the disappointment growing inside her.

"Your Mum said I could wait up here…" she trailed off not able to meet his eyes.

"I know. I meant…" he nodded towards his bed to which she still had her wand pointed.

"Oh." Ron and Hermione had always been close, after their initial couple of months at Hogwarts. They had rarely strayed from telling each other things, from speaking their mind no matter whether it would hurt the other to hear it. A year ago Hermione would have answered him honestly, without thought, would have told him she had fixed his bed, that he really should have done it himself, the spell was simple, didn't he read anything? Now though, it seemed that they were too close. If there was such a thing? The two had been through a lot together, their relationship had gone through a lot of strain. Things had happened, words gone unspoken and now it seemed that things had been left so long that neither knew where they stood with the other and their conversations had become tense. "I was just –" she began but Ron wasn't listening. He had run the towel through his wet hair once more before throwing it across the room and making his way over to the window.

She had thought he was simply avoiding having to look at her by gazing out of the window but when he took out his wand she craned her neck a little to see what he was doing. With a quick flick he had lit a candle with his wand and put it down on the windowsill. The smell of it instantly reached her, it smelt of vanilla and spices, it reminded her of the winter.

"Is that for him?" she asked, finding it difficult to speak his name. "For Fred?"

Ron didn't look at her, just at the candle, his back to her as he spoke quietly. "And for the others. Remus. Tonks." He paused, they had lost so many loved ones. Hermione felt something in the pit of her stomach, tears fighting to escape, Ron had grown up a lot this simple gesture proved it. "Lavender."

Her breath hitched a little at that name. The two had never spoke about Lavender's death. They had hardly spoken about Lavender at all apart from in arguments; it was a sore subject between the two of them. Hermione hated herself for it but she couldn't help but feel jealous, even in death Lavender Brown had Ron's attention. It was horrible thing to think, especially when she herself had been the one who had tried to save Lavender from Greyback, but there had been a time when Hermione had envied everything about Lavender.

Despite it all though Hermione loved that Ron remembered them all. It would have been so easy for him to forget everyone else that they'd lost in the midst of losing his brother. Their relationship was fragile right now, she understood that but she needed his touch, she needed to know he was still in her life no matter how much. And so she walked over to where he stood, by the window, and wordlessly took his hand.

She didn't expect much, if anything, and so the small squeeze he gave her hand was more than she could have hoped for. The two stood in silence.