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.