Disclaimer: not mine.
~HP~HP~HP~
Hermione's not the only one attracted to the scent of freshly mown grass. It's a Quidditch thing for him, she supposes.
But sitting there on Ron's porch, her hand in his, she can't find a reason to complain about that.
The dead leave her aching and empty. Who knew fighting a war would be so hard?
And yet –
The war is over and she finally has time to sit on the porch with Ronald and watch as the sun sinks down below the horizon, and a cool dusk breeze keeps them company, along with the scent
of freshly mown grass.
