Disclaimer: This has been done before, I am aware. This is a part of my missing moments series where we see a little more of the Ron and Hermione we want to see in the books :) As always, I do not own these amazing characters, this magical story, nor anything about it. Just this idea that is on my terms. No one compares to the extraordinary J.K. Rowling! Cheers! ~aparesarah

This is the day after the events at Malfoy Manor at Shell Cottage from Hermione's pov. It is R/Hr and although it may not make sense on the timeline, I thought it'd be really cute. I love imagining what the two of them would be doing or talking about on their own away from Harry :) You know, the stuff we don't get to see! Cheers! Xoxo. Please review!

By the Sea | aparesarah

Chapter The First~

A gentle breeze drifted into the room as Hermione's eyes fluttered open. It was coming back to her- the events of last night. The torture. Ron's screams from below. The chandelier crashing. Bellatrix and Malfoy and the beach. Being led up to the cottage by Ron gripping onto her as if she'd be taken from him in an instant. Fleur had helped her change the night before into new sweatpants, and Ron had lent her an old Chuddley Cannons shirt. He had sat by her side as she rested before Dobby's funeral. He had sobbed next to her, holding her hand, admitting aloud that he'd kill the next person whoever laid hands on her. He had kissed her, though, she wasn't sure he had known she was awake for that. She had lain on her pillow blushing furiously while attempting to understand the Horcrux situation, which resulted in her sobbing herself to sleep out of frustration and determination.

The salt in the air was so thick, Hermione felt her head spinning again. It was throbbing, her body aching, and she could barely move her limbs. She sat up, groaning as she remembered, again, that she had been tortured just the night before. "Take it easy," she murmured to herself. "You're doing the best you can."

Her chocolate brown eyes searched her surroundings, noting the familiar Daily Prophets lining the walls- "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Forever At Large" and "Where in the World is Potter?" among the headlines. A globe sat on a small wooden desk in the corner of the room with an owl mobile hanging from above. A gift from Molly, no doubt. Hermione felt wrong questioning a pregnancy at a time like this, and shook the idea immediately.

Another breeze flew in from the window above her as she breathed in more salt. It was a beautiful smell and taste, Hermione thought warmly, minus it not really helping with her headache.

She stood on the wooden planks and listened to them creak as she made her way to the brass door handle and turned it.

It was dark in the hall, except for the baby stream of light coming from the living room at the end of it. Sunrise.

She crept toward the tiny living room and was surprised to see her redheaded friend snoozing in one of the hand-me-down recliners. She grinned and quietly sat in the love seat across from him.

She noticed the bags under his eyes, above the ominous splotches of freckles. He looked exhausted and she knew it was mostly her fault. He had been up worrying about her, because that was what Ron did.

She had noticed a change in him over the course of the last couple of months. He was treating her differently, though he was still her best friend. He hadn't been as moody with her and he was always asking for her opinion, her thoughts, her ideas on things. Despite having left Harry and her behind in the woods out of a typical jealous Ron-rage, he was… different. Hermione wasn't sure if it was because they were now seventeen years old, or if it was because of the events happening around them. Either way, Ron was noticing Hermione and appreciating her for who she was. And she liked it.

It was no surprise to herself that she had been realizing her own feelings. Hermione perfectly well knew she had liked Ron for some time, even when they were younger. Over the years she had silently berated herself for liking such a git of a best friend at times. But there was no stopping it. Ron always made up for the things he did in other wonderful ways that sent Hermione's heart beating quickly and pale skin flushing with pink.

She wished she had been bolder at fourteen and had just asked him herself to the Yule Ball, but she had been stubborn. Just as stubborn as him, if not, more. She wanted him to ask her for months when he had the chance, but it was simply, too late. He ruined that one. She wished they had dated in their sixth year before recent events had happened, before Dumbledore's death and the beginning of their Horcrux hunt, but again, Ron's git self chose another, leaving Hermione to wonder if she had even been worth it.

But again, she reminded herself that her independence was everything she needed, until he'd come around eventually and catch up to her level. It finally seemed he was doing so. It was good timing, too, because Hermione needed to depend on someone for once. She was tired of being the caretaker. She needed someone to take care of herself for just once, especially after what had happened to her at Malfoy Manor.

"Hermione…" Ron said groggily rubbing his eyes. She forgot she had been staring at his snoozing figure from across the small space.

"Morning, Ron," she said quietly with a smile. He smiled weakly at her and leaned the recliner back into place. He stretched his lanky arms and legs out before standing up and hitting his head with a loud "thud!" on the ceiling tile.

"Bloody HELL!"

Hermione laughed and tried to shush herself before saying, "Shh, Ron, try not to- haha- try not to wake everyone."

He grinned and ducked down as he walked away and into the small kitchen next to the living room. She listened to him clinking pots and pans around (cringing as he did so) and saw his flaming red hair peek around the entry way.

"Wansuhtoas'?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Er, what, Ron?"

"WANSUHTOAS'?"

"Ronald, you're going to have to chew and swallow that mound of toast before- ohhh, yes! Please, I'd like some toast!" She laughed, and he nodded.

They soon sat together on the loveseat, munching on toast and bacon that Ron had fixed for the two of them. After a long night of sorrow, Hermione felt grateful for a hearty morning meal.

They ate in silence, but every now and then Ron would place a hand on the small of her back, rubbing it in circular motions. It made Hermione's knees go a bit weak.

"Hermione…" Ron started. "Do you wanna go for a walk with me?" He asked shyly, his freckled cheeks on fire.

She smiled at him. "Yes."
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They walked hand in hand along the grimy beach, Hermione gathering a shell here or there and tucking it into the pockets of her sweatpants. They were both barefoot, and she was enjoying the feel of the sand grit as it squished between her toes. It felt weird to Hermione to not be talking for once. She was still shaken from the events of the previous night and felt at a loss for words. She was thankful when Ron grew brave and managed out a small, "Hey."

She looked into his blue eyes questioningly.

Ron groaned. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm so, erm, so bad at this."

"You aren't, Ron. It's okay. I'm still me," Hermione said giving his hand a squeeze, and he smiled warmly at her. She noticed he was still nervous, as he let out a small cough to clear his throat.

"The thing is… there are honestly, so many bloody things I want to tell you, Hermione." He had stopped leading them along the beach and was now standing in front of her. He took her other hand in his, holding them both now and looking down into her brown eyes.

"I don't even know where to start," he whispered. Hermione squeezed his hand again.

He looked out at the water. "Start where ever makes you feel comfortable," she encouraged him.

He grinned.

"Okay. I know just where to begin."

To be continued…