Now let me hear those sounds you sing to me
Cha ching, cha ching, cha chingaling
We are all living
Till we grow older
-Cha-Ching (Till We Grow Older) by Imagine Dragons.
It was another quiet morning at the Burrow; another morning where the usually bustling household was deathly silent; another morning where Mrs. Weasley made scrambled eggs because pancakes were Fred's favorite, and he wasn't there anymore to enjoy them.
Hermione and Ron sat together at the table grimly, looking the part. Underneath the table, their foots brushed each other's legs and their fingers intertwined.
Hermione looked at Ron and he looked at her. Their eyes alone were enough to convey the message.
Living here is like dying.
They didn't want to leave the Burrow, but it was a natural decision - they were alive, and they had earned that at a cost - the cost of other people's lives. As such, they would make sure that they lived their life completely.
Ron tumbled in through the doorway, cursing as he stubbed his toe on the doorstep.
"We're here!" Hermione exclaimed. "We're home."
It was a large, empty flat, completely white-washed with nothing in it. Doors on the side lead to other rooms. No sound could be heard, other than the summer breeze that wafted through the open window.
It was a home that they were going to make their own.
"What's this?" Ron asked, holding up a leather bound notebook from Hermione's box.
"I told you specifically to not go through that box!" Hermione cried. "Give it back!"
Ron shook his head. "Not until you tell me."
"Come on, Ron-"
"I'll read it then." Ron fingered the cover teasingly. He knew she couldn't stand it.
"Stop it, please!"
"Here." He handed it back to her; he hated it when she sounded so upset. "Still, what is it?
Hermione sighed. "My diary."
"You have a diary?" Ron scoffed. "That's for little girls-"
The look Hermione gave him was enough to shut him up.
"I want green!"
"I want blue!"
The argument went on and on, with no signs of stopping any time soon.
"How could you want blue? You have no color coordination whatsoever, just leave the interior decorating to me-"
"Blimey Hermione, green is a hideous color!"
They couldn't leave the walls white anymore. It was getting on their nerves, so they decided that today was the day they would paint it. (Or rather, have Hermione swish her wand and use magic. Painting was for Muggles.)
But if they couldn't decide on what color the walls of their home should be, how would they ever be able to live together?
"I have an idea," Ron said. "We'll do a little bit of both. After all, it's our home, right?"
When Harry and Ginny came over later that evening (their flat was across the way) they walked in to a cerulean living room.
Hermione hummed to herself as she levitated, the black couch into the apartment. Ron was behind, with a few lamps that floated in the wake of his wand.
After they settled the furniture, they both took a step back to admire their progress. "This place is really starting to take shape."
In the cerulean living room, they had placed plush black couches and seats, and a glass coffee table. There were a few framed pictures hanging on the walls, of their families and friends. Hermione had decided on baby blue curtains, and they fluttered as the wind blew through.
"I think we've earned ourselves a rest," Ron declared as he flopped onto the seat and closed his eyes. Hermione sat next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
They just stayed like that for a while, sitting and loving and living.
After the war, it had been hard to come back to living a normal life. The school was in ruins, their families were torn apart by deaths and memory losses, and there were too many demons living inside of them all.
Coming to terms with the new, tranquil safety had been jarring - and there were still days when Hermione cried, and Ron snapped more often than usual.
Many were dead, but they weren't. And Ron and Hermione would try their best to live their life to the fullest for them.
Ron wrapped his arms around the sniffling Hermione. He knew she wasn't crying out of sorrow, but rather joy, because they both had a whole life ahead of them to live together.
Hermione burrowed into Ron's shirt, enveloping herself in his warm hug. He was alive, she was alive, and she needed to feel it.
Thump. Thump. There it was. There was Ron's steady heartbeat, what proved to her that he was living and nothing could take that away from her.
We are living.
A/N: Flangsty Romione. Honestly, this wasn't one of my best.
Done for:
Last Ship Standing Competition
OTP Boot Camp - Prompt #16: Silence is golden.
Fantastic Beasts Challenge - Nogtail