A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic. Although I don't think I'm much of a writer, I'm a big reader, and just felt that this hadn't ever really been put out there, so I decided to give it a try. I definitely didn't want to do something that's been done over and over. This story, while NOT a songfic, was loosely inspired by the song "Existentialism on Prom Night" by Straylight Run (this title is a lyric in the song). While you can still most definitely enjoy the story without having heard the song, I can't help but feel sorry for you, because your world must be a little dimmer without the music of this amazing band. Please read and review, good or bad. I just wanted to see if I could do it. Thanks!

Ron jerked himself awake, startled almost as though he had been falling. He wondered what had caused it this time.

Although the battle had been fought over two years ago, he still had the occasional nightmare. It wasn't always the same one, although, there was more than enough in that one day to scare a person for life, he thought ruefully.

Sometimes he saw Hagrid carrying Harry's lifeless body out of the forest towards the school. The wind was sucked out of him as he fought the image in front of him, refusing to believe his best mate, his sixth brother, his oldest friend was gone.

Sometimes he could smell the horrible stench of the decaying basilisk, as he and Hermione worked their way through the debris of the collapsed shaft to reach the monstrous creature that had almost stolen from him his baby sister.

Sometimes he felt the hot breath of the cursed fire, bearing down on them, worrying, not that he might die, but that he might not be able to save his friends, that they might not end the reign of Voldemort.

Sometimes, he heard the cries as he entered the Great Hall. Not only those of his family, although he could distinguish their attempt at control. He heard the cries of everyone: friends, teachers, classmates, families; as they searched for each other, calling out names in earnest, as the exploded in joy at finding one another alive, and as they released their anguish at having lost someone, a piece of their self.

He knew in that way that a dream can suddenly come back to you, however, that this one had been about Fred. He had been ripped from sleep as his body reacted to his mind's memory of flying through the air when the wall was blasted apart. He could feel the physical weight of the wall, covering him, stealing his breath. He could also feel the terror, wondering first, even as he flew through the air, if Hermione was okay. In the beginning, he had felt a little ashamed of himself, for thinking of her, only her, when he also had two brothers and his best mate in the same disaster. When he had risen from the wreckage to see Fred lifeless, a smile still playing at his lips, he had lost all other thought. He could hear, as if underwater or from a great distance, Percy's anguished cries, but he could not speak himself. All he could do was stare at his brother, one of the people he had wanted so badly to become, and who was now gone.

Ron had struggled for a long time with the fact that as Fred was dying, he wasn't even worrying about him. As his brother took his last breath, Ron's thoughts, despite the danger everyone was in, were of Hermione.

Now, however, Ron had come to accept the fact that she was all he worried about. Not to say that he did not love his family (which included Harry), but he now knew that life could continue if he lost them. It was painful, but without Fred, life had gone on; when Harry had seemed dead, Ron's entire world had not ended. He was sure now, though, that had anything happened to her, should anything happen to her, his world most definitely could not continue.

He rolled over gently in the bed to look at her. The sun, streaming in through the window beside the bed, gave the whole room a soft glow. He realized it must have just risen. Ron watched her chest gently rise and fall; he took in her hair, bushier than ever, all over her face and pillow. He suppressed a laugh at how she was sprawled completely across her half of the bed and a little of his, tangled in the blankets with her mouth curved slightly as though smiling at her dreams. It had taken him long enough to realize it, but he loved Hermione Granger. Despite all that had happened to them, all the pain they had endured, she made him happier than he ever thought he could be.

Fighting an urge to touch her face, to pull her into his arms, he gently rolled back over and got out of the bed. He decided to let her sleep in, knowing in the most wonderful way imaginable, that he had the rest of his entire life to try to make her feel the same way. Her safety, her happiness, was something that he knew he'd kill for, die for without a moment's pause.

Ron saw his whole life laid out in front of him, and knew that every bit of pain he had suffered was worth it.

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