What Remains
Ron awoke facing Harry's empty four-poster bed. Groggily, he forced himself up. For being one of the tallest towers in Hogwarts, it a wonder that the Gryffindor tower was still standing after what had happened. The sun shone through the dormitory windows, making little stripes of light along the floorboard and the dancing dust particles visible. It didn't feel like he had just fought in a battle for the record books.
For a split second, his mind convinced him that it was all a dream; he was merely late for class. It wouldn't be too far from the truth, since it was so easy for him to skive off a particular class he didn't enjoy. He stretched, which caused him to wince at the bruises and cuts he had on his midsection. His heart faltered at his reality: there was a battle, and many people died.
He knew he should be happy that it was over, but he couldn't. There was still so much to do, so much to talk about, so much damage to control that he didn't know where to start. He debated staying in this room and never coming out. He was comfortable where he was; he couldn't remember the last time he slept in a bed this soft and warm. But he knew that people needed him as much as he needed them.
He slid out of his bed, his feet feeling like lead blocks as he walked to the small center fireplace. Gathering a shirt, he slushed down the steps to find Hermione looking out the window, hugging herself, hair damp from a shower and face freshly tear-stained. He froze… then cleared his throat to let her know that he was there.
She turned her head to look at him. He chanced a half-smile, which caused her to continue staring out the window, silently crying. Ron walked over to see what was so fascinating down below.
"It's been two days," she whispered.
The Hogwarts grounds looked vastly different from what Ron remembered two days ago. He could see McGonagall pointing and directing people who were levitating huge pieces of debris. He also found that many of these people had red hair.
Ron looked back at Hermione and put his arm around her. His stomach did a backflip when she leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Hermione, I…" he began, but he had no idea how to put all of his thoughts and feelings into words.
Thankfully, she understood his struggle. She grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know."
His stomach did another whooping backflip, but he ignored it. There would surely be a time and place to talk. Right now, they had to think of family, funerals, rebuilding, and recovery. For Ron, they had forever.