Hermione reflected on what she'd said earlier that day: could she and Harry really stay in the forest and grow old together? She hadn't meant it, not really. Something said in a moment of exasperation. But the funny thing was, the more she thought about it, the less terrifying it seemed.
She loved Ron. But she had to question herself: could they spend each day together? She had to admit: the way things had been for the past year or two, she couldn't see it. They were good friends, yes, but they ran too far against each other to really be compatible companions.
Hermione was coming to understand that about herself and Ron. For as often as they fought, they were true friends – they had been since he and Harry had rescued her from the troll their first year at Hogwarts. But their personalities were incompatible for an extended stretch of time. That much had been proven by their journey so far.
And so Hermione's thoughts turned to Harry. She loved him, too, even more than she loved Ron. And unlike Ron, she could see them existing together peacefully. It would be a good match, she thought. We'd adore each other, and respect each other, and take care of each other. But then she remembered Ginny, another person whom she loved and admired – and the person whom Harry was in love with.
And she remembered Luna. Neville. Fred. George. Mr and Mrs Weasley. Kingsley, Lupin, Tonks. All of the others they were fighting for.
To stay in the forest would be an act of selfishness, she realized. Not an unforgivable one, perhaps, but one that wasn't in keeping with two Gryffindors' spirits. And she was, she knew, a Gryffindor.
They would carry on searching for the horcruxes, because she couldn't do otherwise, and she knew Harry certainly couldn't. But once the search was done, if and when Voldemort was killed, could there be anything more between her and Harry? Hermione thought about it a bit more. Eventually, she realized that she couldn't answer that question.
But she could hope.