Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I'm afraid. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and probably some other people that I can't name specifically. Reviews are like air to me. So if you don't review, I die an oxygen-deprived girl who's all blue in the face and…well…you get the picture.

Captured Serenity

The trio stood almost a hundred feet from their destination, wariness written on every line of them.

Hermione's heart swelled with some undefinable emotion. The little house at Godric's Hollow looked as though it had been the perfect size for a growing family - neat and trim, its imperfections had undoubtedly been softened by the shadows that lay thickly all about, cast by the many trees that peppered the area. Harry gazed stoically at the miserable mass of charred rubble. The house's black skeleton was still partially intact, standing sentinel over the disaster site.

Long ago, his mother Lily had supervised the upkeep of that house with fussy, wifely pride. During the course of her pregnancy, she had bustled about it much like a balloon on legs, ensuring that everything was "just right" for baby Samantha-or-Harry. Here, she and James had kissed and cried, entertained guests, and shared their first meals as a married couple.

Here, they had been brutally murdered. The pretty life they had begun to build was destroyed within a matter of seconds. A rickety house frame that hovered eerily over a pile of broken bricks and splintered wood was all that remained of Lily and James Potter's rose tinted aspirations.

Harry's look told Ron and Hermione in no uncertain terms that he needed to explore the rubble alone. He advanced towards the site slowly, his jaw set with characteristic resolve and his lit wand held aloft.

When Harry was out of sight, Hermione sank limply onto a nearby tree stump, her energy failing her without warning. Ron was at her side in a moment, concern evident on his freckled brow.

"Hermione?" he said tentatively, placing one of his large hands on her shoulder. "Are you sick?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, not sick," she replied in a strained voice. "Only tired."

Ron settled himself on the grass at her feet, staring up into her pale, wan face. Dark circles rimmed her blood-shot eyes and the hand she placed on his arm was thin almost to transparency. "You're sick," he said uncertainly. "You look awful."

The ghost of a smile flitted across her face at that. "Thanks, Ron."

"No, I just meant -"

"Shh, it's okay," she replied, her eyes fluttering to a close. "I know what you meant. I'm exhausted; that's all. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I made myself bear up and act strong for Bill's wedding, but I can't pretend anymore. I won't pretend, dammit!" And suddenly she was crying hot tears that trailed languorously down her thin cheeks.

"You don't have to be strong!" Ron vowed earnestly. "I can be strong for the both of us!"

"Harry needs me to be strong," Hermione pointed out, wiping frantically at her streaming eyes. "He needs me…he needs me…but sometimes I feel like I need someone too!"

Ron pulled himself onto the stump at that, drawing her into his arms and holding her tightly against the warm anchor of his chest. She burrowed her moist face into the hollow of his throat, shaking with repressed sobs. "Let it out," he whispered. "Let it all out."

She cried and cried, and Ron held her long after the tears had expended themselves. When she was fully composed, she lifted her head and stared into his face. His blue eyes met her own soft brown ones boldly; no shame or awkwardness hampered the beautiful moment.

"Hermione, I -" he began, but she shushed him gently, placing a finger over his lips and smiling.

"No talking," she said, a joking reprimand in her voice. "Just kiss me."

And then his lips were on hers, and everything around them dissolved. She clung desperately to his neck as his mouth moved tentatively over hers, exploring without demanding - passionate but tender, too. They parted after a few breathless moments. Hermione found herself turning a bit pink as she gazed curiously into his stunned face. He looked hopelessly adorable: lips slightly flushed from the contact they'd shared, eyes slightly glazed with ardor, overlong red hair slightly tousled - in short, perfectly kissable. Without analyzing the whys or wherefores of the situation, she dove in for another kiss, and then another, pressing her lips frantically to his over and over again until his hands in her hair stilled her frenetic movements.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her softly, showing uncharacteristic insight into her deepest fears. His face was only a few inches from her own, and she could feel his warm breath against her lips. He sighed and rested his forehead against hers, apparently attempting to steady his breathing. "I'm always going to be here for you."

"Don't say that," she begged, the light in her eyes quenched suddenly by a rush of tears. "You don't know that."

"I do know it. I - I might die - or - or you might die…I know that. Bloody hell, we're both going to die someday. But I swear I'll hold you and kiss you and love you every day until that happens. I'll love you forever, no matter what, no matter who dies. Merlin, Hermione, I love you. Nothing can change that. Not even death."

Hermione's breath had stilled the moment the word 'love' had crossed his lips. When he finished his little speech, she regained control of her mental faculties and seized him round the head. "You love me?" she demanded in a hoarse voice.

Ron's ears went crimson, but he met her gaze determinedly. "Of course I do. I love you more than anything. More than life."

"Oh, god, Ron, I love you so much," she said before her famed common sense could still her impulsive tongue. "I've always loved you…I thought - last year -"

"I was bloody stupid," he said. "Dating Lavender…but all I ever thought about was you. When I kissed her -" he broke off, his cheeks aflame, "when I kissed her I imagined it was you…"

Hermione went red, too, basking in the shared heat of their embarrassment. They gazed shyly at one another, neither sure what to say now that they had bared their heart's deepest secrets. Finally, Ron used his trembling fingers to brush a stray lock of hair from Hermione's face. She caught his hand and drew him to her. When his lips touched hers, she tensed at the feeling of raw bliss that swept through her. But after a moment she relaxed and allowed the feeling of being utterly loved and utterly supported carry her away from the here and now.