Upon leaving Dumbledore's office, Harry parted ways with Ron and Hermione, opting to head straight to dormitory for some well deserved rest instead of returning to the Great Hall. They stood in front of the gargoyle and, as Harry walked away, tried to prepare themselves for the scene that awaited them.

Shaking his head, Ron sat down on the steps. "I can't go back there. Not yet."

He squeezed his eyes tight and his entire body tensed, as though trying to block out the pain that was already beginning to seep in.

Without a word, Hermione dropped down beside him, took his clenched hand in hers and brought it to her lips. Ron found himself melting as soft lips brushed across his scarred and filthy hand and his eyes immediately popped open.

Her brown met his blue and this time their lips met softly in surrender. The kiss was very different from their first collision; it was slow and thoughtful, but every bit as passionate. The taste of Hermione was enough to make him consider giving up chocolate. Without interruption, they took their time before breaking apart.

With Ron's hand still in hers, she began to rise.

"We should go back. They'll be waiting for us."

"Hermione," Ron said getting to his feet and giving her had a squeeze. "Don't let go."

The bells rang out signalling the end of the day and beginning of the next as the couple walked hand in hand into the Great Hall. As the majority of the survivors had returned to their homes, the dead now outnumbered the living. The Weasley men remained in the near empty hall, surrounding the body of Fred.

Percy kneeled on the floor with his head in his hands. Bill and Charlie crouched on either side of their father, speaking to him in hushed tones. George sat with Fred's head in his lap, tears dripping silently down his cheeks and onto his twin's forehead.

"Where's mum?" Ron asked the group.

"Fleur and Ginny have taken her back to the Burrow," his father answered weakly. "She needs to get some rest. Though.. I don't know... how..."

The eldest Weasley brothers squeezed Arthur's shoulders and continued muttering reassurances. Had Arthur the strength to look anyone in the eye right now, he would have seen their broken and doubtful expressions and right through their words.

"I want to- I need to take him home."

They all turned to the source of the cracking voice, George. He stared back at them, his eyes full of tears, yet somehow empty.

Hermione let out a whimper and squeeze Ron's hand tighter.

"Yes. Of course," Mr. Weasley moving towards George and wrapping his arms around him. "Let's all go home."

As they began to make preparations, Ron pulled Bill to the side to speak to him.

"Harry's already gone up to the dormitories, so we'll stay here with him tonight and come to the Burrow together in the morning."

Bill simply nodded, wrapped his arms around his youngest brother and kissed him on the forehead.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that this was the first time Ron didn't resist an act of affection from a family member.

Ron and Hermione made their way through the demolished corridors in silence and found themselves standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait before they consciously realized it.

"Oh. I'm afraid we don't-" started Hermione, remembering that they didn't know the password.

"Never mind, dears. Not tonight," she said before slowly swinging open.

Despite its crimson and gold dressings, the Gryffindor common room was unrecognizable. Dark, empty and silent.

Hermione shivered and glanced towards the girls' staircase, but Ron had already taken her hand and begun guiding her to the opposite side of the room.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he asserted. "Sleep with me."

Hermione's eyebrows raised and, realizing what he had just said, a very flustered Ron attempted to clarify himself.

"I mean you can come sleep with me. I mean, sleep in my bed. I don't have to be there. Well, I could be there. I mean, I will be there. But Harry will be there, too. In the dormitory! Not my bed..."

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth beginning to turn up. Just when she thought she would never be able to smile again, Ron gave her reason to.

She stood on her toes to kiss one of his very red cheeks and then whispered in his ear, "Let's go to bed."

Ron continued his acts of chivalry when they reached the room and insisted that Hermione be the first to change for bed.

As he watched the light from under the bathroom door, he very briefly considered imperturbing the curtains around his bed. Although his intention would be to not disturb Harry, he did not want Hermione to come to the wrong conclusion. Especially after his slip of the tongue downstairs.

Ron felt his ears warm at the thought of it. He had most definitely stuffed that up. At least with Hermione being ready first, she could decide on the sleeping arrangements while he was in the bathroom. Ron was nothing if not a brilliant strategist.

Eventually he emerged to find what he had not dared to hope for. Hermione Jean Granger was in his bed. Well, on it technically. And clothed, so it wasn't exactly like his dreams. But there she was.

Sitting down next to her, he drew the section of the curtains she had left open for him and turned to face her.

The water she had splashed her face with and washed away most of the blood and ash, but the scratches and bruises remained. With great care, Ron pushed the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger for longer than necessary.

"Ron," she choked, "I am so tired."

She did not need to elaborate further because he knew. He felt an identical exhaustion. It was more than sleep deprivation. They were tired of pain, chaos, death, uncertainty, and, perhaps most of all, they were tired of not being together.

He pulled her into his arms and, as she began to cry, murmured, "I know, Hermione. But this is it. This is the end. We made it." And with his thoughts drifting to those who did not, particularly to his brother who lay still downstairs, Ron's resolve finally crumbled.

Ron and Hermione held each other until the tears subsided and their breathing matched in rhythm. Hermione rested her head on his chest as he stroked her hair, listening to the steady beat of his heart and reminded herself that they were both indeed alive.

Hermione awoke the next morning with Ron's arms wrapped around her. She had never felt so safe and content. Their fingers remained curled together and Ron's face was buried in her bushy hair. It was the perfect way to wake up. Apart from something jutting into her lower back.

She wiggled a bit trying to reposition herself against him, as she was reluctant to put any space between them, but the poking only became more pronounced.

Refusing to relent, Hermione pressed herself back into him harder this time.

Ron bucked slightly against her and let out a guttural groan into her hair, "Mm... Er-my-nee..."

"Oh my go-" Hermione yelped in sudden realization and bolted upright causing both of them to tumble through the curtains and off opposite sides of the tiny twin bed.

"What the hell is going on?"

Harry's curtains flew open to find a wide-eyed Hermione sitting in the space between the two beds. A stream of curse words echoed from the far side and a sheepish-looking Ron reappeared.

"I- I had a bit of a nightmare," stuttered Hermione. "I'm sorry for waking you up. Are you alright, Ron?"

"Er.. yeah."

"Oh good, I'll just get ready so we can head to the Burrow," she entering the washroom before she had even finished her sentence.

Ron returned himself to the bed with a strategically placed pillow in hand. He gaped at the bathroom door, shook his head and turned to Harry.

"Good sleep?" his best friend questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Shut it."