Professor McGonagall looked around the empty hallways of Hogwarts. Most
of the students had been escorted home by their parents but a few were
still taking the express. She would go down and see them off as soon as
she composed herself.

Minerva McGonagall was not easily given to emotion and found herself
feeling slightly ashamed of the tears running down her cheeks. Now was
not the time to lose control: she needed to be strong for her pupils.
With Albus dead, she would need to be a pillar of strength, in these dark
and dangerous times, for those who came back after the summer. Albus
would never have wanted the school to close on his account and she would
be damned if she would let a load of jumped up snobs tell her it was
closing. She would keep Hogwarts open if it was the last thing she
did.

With a haughty sniff and a quick dab of a handkerchief, Professor
McGonagall regained her stiff upper lip and stalked out of the hall and
towards the platform. It was time to say goodbye.

Molly Weasley watched as the train left the station. She clutched her
daughter close. Ginny had been surprisingly cooperative about travelling
home with her and Arthur. Molly supposed that a certain dark haired boy
had had something to do with Ginny's willingness not to take the train
and to side-along Apparate with her father. Ronald however, had been
very insistent about riding the Hogwarts Express and staying with Harry
and Hermione. Hermione. Mrs Weasley sighed, she had seen them today at
the funeral. She had known it was coming, but now that it was actually
here ... she didn't know how to feel. For years she had seen it. They
reminded her a lot of Arthur and herself when they were young. Hermione,
she'd mused, was just like her: stubborn, motherly and emotional. Of
course she was far cleverer - definitely one of a kind in that aspect of
her personality. As for Ron, she thought it was safe to say that Ron
was a miniature version of his father.

She'd watched them for years bickering, arguing, sneaking looks, and
trying to control their jealousy. Every summer, and occasional
Christmases, for the past six years she'd seen them. At first she'd tried to deny
it to herself, after all in her eyes Ron was still a baby, but that
night after the incident at the Department of Mysteries she'd seen his
face when he was told how badly Hermione had been hurt. He'd looked as
though his world had just collapsed. She'd seen the look on Hermione's
face when she saw the welts on his arms. There was no more denying it.

She'd been sure that they would get together in 6th year. When she'd
read Ginny's letter informing her that Ron had a girlfriend she'd felt
herself smile, but that smile had soon been replaced with a frown as
she'd read the next line. Ron was going out with a girl called Lavender.
She'd felt an instant dislike for the girl. She had decided that
Hermione, and only Hermione, was good enough for her youngest son. It had been
a relief when she'd learned they had broken up. She'd felt sure then
that they would come to their senses and become a couple. It had reached
the end of term, however, and they had still refused to acknowledge
their feelings. She'd felt frustrated beyond all belief. She'd desperately
wanted to say something to them but, as Arthur had told her, it had to
be up to them - and now they had done it, or were at least on the verge
of doing it, so she felt robbed. Of course she loved Hermione to
pieces, she was like a second daughter, but it was hard.

Her Ronnie was about to be stolen from her by another girl and there
was nothing she could do about it except sit back and watch her take him.

The Hogwarts Express was chugging a long quite merrily, but the
atmosphere on it was most definitely not merry at all. Some children were
still crying, many carriages were silent.

There was no one running up and down the corridors. No explosive noises
coming from troublemakers' compartments; even the pets seemed quieter
than usual. In a compartment near the end of the train sat four people,
all of whom were quite silent.

A boy with dark messy hair sat staring out of the window, his eyes
unfocused, his thoughts clearly miles away. He could not speak; his mentor,
his protector was dead. How many more would have to suffer the same
fate because of him? He looked at the two people sitting opposite him and
he knew they would never agree to stay behind. They were his family and
he loved them and they loved each other; perhaps in the end that would
be enough to save them.

Sitting next to the dark haired boy was another. He looked pudgy and
clumsy, but his eyes held determination. His hands were currently
occupied holding a toad, who, for once, had decided to stay still and quiet in
his master's lap. He knew the other three had something planned and
whatever it was he would help, whether they liked it or not. He owed to
his parents, to his gran and to himself.

On the opposite side of the pudgy, clumsy boy sat yet another boy with
shaggy red hair and dozens of freckles. He looked like the kind of guy
that was normally a bit of a laugh but today he looked sombre and grim,
expressions unusual upon his face. Unlike the other two boys his mind
was not on what lay ahead but on what sat beside him. It was time.

Next to him sat a girl with masses of brown curly locks and soft brown
eyes.
She was currently staring out of the window, thinking.

Her thoughts, unlike Harry's and Neville's, were not miles or even feet
away. The subject of her thoughts was mere inches away from her, his
long gangly arms laid at his side.
She sighed a little. Today those arms had held her whilst she had
sobbed unrestrainedly. His large, rough, clumsy hands had stroked her hair
and his cobalt blue eyes had shone with tears.

She chanced a glance up at him and found him looking at her, a curious
expression on his face. He gave her a small, lopsided smile and she
couldn't help her lips twitching upwards into a soft smile. His eyes
flickered across to Harry who was still staring out of the window and then
to Neville who was now carefully stroking one of his beloved plants, a
faraway expression on his face.

Then Ron looked at her again, and smiled. He looked away towards the
compartment door and Hermione returned to her original position of
looking out of the window.

Suddenly she felt something gently brush against the top of her hands.
She looked down and saw Ron's long fingers softly running along the
back of her hand. She felt her eyes grow a little bit wider and her breath
quicken ever so slightly. She looked at him, but he was determinedly
avoiding her eyes. His posture was stiff and rigid as his fingertips
continued to slowly trace a pattern along the back of her hand. They
seemed to be waiting for something. Almost as if they were asking for
something, asking for permisson and in that moment Hermione understood what
they were waiting for.

She carefully turned her hand so her palm was facing upwards. Ron's
hand hovered shakily above her own for a moment then slowly and cautiously
he placed it so their palms were pressed together. He then gently
entwined their fingers and she squeezed his hand in reassurance that it was
alright

She heard him take in a long, shaky breath before he began gently
rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, making small circles. They
glanced at each other and shared a shy smile.

It wasn't a kiss in the common room after a quidditch match.

It wasn't a date to the Yule Ball.

It most definitely wasn't a declaration of love and adoration.

But...

It was a start.