After the Battle

Ron left the hot water continue to wash over his shoulders long after he was clean. He knew that there was no way to literally force the stress and grief and sorrow of the past 48 hours, or for that matter the past year, down the drain; he was simply taking in the joy of being clean. After the trio's time in the tent, Ron had grown to consider hot showers one of the finer points in life.

Harry had opted to strip down to his knickers and crawl right into bed after they finished the sandwiches Kreature had brought them. In actuality, Harry seemed to fall asleep half way through his meal. Ron figured he finished it out of sheer habit.

Ron reluctantly turned off the water and reached for the towel Kreature was nice enough to bring him. The elf was even able to rustle up a pair of pajama pants for him to wear for the night.

Ron had watched the elf dutifully scooping up Harry's dirty clothes. "Mr. Weasly will leave his clothes on the floor for Kreature," he croaked pushing Ron toward the bathroom.

"You don't have to do that Kreature," Ron had said softly. "You fought hard today too."

"Kreature knows he doesn't have to. Kreature wants to."

And he couldn't argue with that. So here he stood with a clean towel and trousers. His mind drifted to Fred and he momentarily had to steady himself on the sink. His incredibly obnoxious brother would never pair with his twin to drive Ron to the brink of insanity again. Right now, the end of Lord Voldemort, the nemesis he, Harry, and Hermione had been fighting for years, did not seem real. He could gather no respite from thoughts of their victory. He tried to focus on those thoughts that did comfort him. The fact that his family had not been hit harder. Pride that his best friend proved to be stronger and braver than anyone had ever imagined. And Hermione. A ghost of a smile crept across his lips and he inadvertently brushed his fingers there. He had finally kissed Hermione.

Ron quietly crept back into the dormitory that he and Harry had called their home for so many years. For Ron, it was a second home, fitting enough for a school environment. For Harry, it had been the first place he could truly call home since the now deceased Lord Voldemort had stollen his first home from him before he could speak. Ron figured Harry would come back to the Burrow with him. And he genuinely hoped that his friend could fine some peace now that the war had been won. And as much as Ron knew that Harry liked his company, being mates and all, he knew that the company Harry craved the most was Ginny. Ron didn't mind. The more time Harry spent with Ginny, the more he, himself, could spend with Hermione.

Ron glanced at the sleeping form in the bed across the room. Harry hadn't even stirred when the door opened or when the floor board creaked three paces unto the room. Ron sat on his bed and flopped backward. He stared at the hangings on his four-poster bed and an odd thought occurred to him, this wasn't really his bed anymore. He hadn't slept in it in nearly a year, and tonight may very well be the last time he closed his eyes to this view of the world. He wondered how the sheets came to be on it and clean. Had the elves started making beds as soon as the battle concluded?

He didn't have long to ponder the appearance of clean linens before he heard the groan of the bedroom door. He sat bolt upright in bed.

The ghost of the smile that had been on his face in the washroom returned as he saw Hermione tip-toeing toward him. He tried, but was unable to stifle a chuckle. "What are you wearing?"

She put her arms to her sides and started to place her body in the position of a standard Hermione huff, but glancing down at herself, she had to laugh too. "I always wondered what happened to these. They were my favorite pajamas in my first year."

"Where were they?" Ron asked, for lack of any better questions coming to mind.

Hermione shrugged. "One of the blasts must have knocked over my old dresser. I guess these had fallen behind the drawers, because they were lying next to it."

She was clad in pair of pink and purple pajama pants that hugged her legs so tightly Ron could see her thigh muscles flex and release with each step she took closer and closer to him. The waist band rested on her hip bones and the bottoms fell just below her knees. The pink and purple swirled tank top had a picture of a grey kitten with bright blue eyes. The shirt looked as though it was supposed to be short on an eleven year old Hermione, now a good six inches of skin showed. Scratch that, a delectable six inches of skin showed that was now mere inches away from him.

The patch of skin seemed to pull him forward as if it were a magnetic force until his bare arms were around her and his head leaned against her chest. He felt her fingers twine into his hair as she hugged him closer to her. It was the single best sensation Ron could ever remember feeling.

"Ginny stopped in to tell me she was heading back to the Burrow with your Mum and Dad," Hermione said.

He took the fact that she was still playing with strands of his hair as a sign that he did not have to move, so he stayed put. "Mmm," he mumbled.

"I told her I would be along with you and Harry tomorrow." She punctuated her sentence with a soft kiss to the top of his head.

They stayed in their entwined positions in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Ron?" she finally asked.

"Yeah?" He leaned back to look at her.

"You know, when we got to Shell Cottage, after we got out away from Malfoy Manor..."

Ron reluctantly took one of his hands from her waist and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Go on," he encouraged.

"Did you ever miss the tent?"

Hermione said the question so fast, it took Ron a moment to decipher it. He definitely hadn't missed the tent's pathetic excuse of a washroom, but there were aspects that he had. "Sometimes," he said returning his hand to the bare patch of skin at her waist.

"Can I sleep next to you like we did in the tent?" she asked running her fingers down the side of his cheek.

Ron smiled a full smile for the first time in recent memory. He stood up. "No," he said before pulling her to him. Her lips felt even better than they did the first time. Maybe it was the fact that he could savor them rather than rush through the process and proceed to battle. Maybe it was the fact that she was wearing the skimpy little kitten thing. Maybe it was because he had already tasted them once so he knew the greatness that was coming. Whatever the reason, he savored each sensation. Her lips were so soft and her tongue danced and mingled with his. But finally it was time to take a breathe.

"Did you say, 'No'?" She asked stepping back, looking up at him with her hands on her hips.

He pulled back the covers and jumped in between them before patting the spot next to him. "I was hoping to be considerably closer than we were in the tent."

She had that look on her face that she often got when he did something idiotic, but to his relief, she climbed in anyway.

With her head resting on one arm and the other thrown across her, making sure to place his hand on her bare stomach, he pulled her as close to himself as humanly possible. Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he drifted to sleep with Hermione's hair brushing against his chin.