Every picture stands out in its own way. Whether someone was sneezing as the picture was taken, or a child is looking the wrong direction. Each picture is significant in the way we continue to live our lives. If we don't like something in it we change it. Pictures work in that kind of way, it shows us our personality, who we love and who we don't. A picture is worth a thousand words. And those thousand words show a life together with the one person you care the most about.

Ronald Weasley wasn't smart. He wasn't the best cook, or the best wizard. He couldn't tell you a spell on how to clean your bedroom off the top of his head or even the spell to stun you without thinking about it for a few minutes. Ronald Weasley may not even be able to tell you how to tie your shoes for the life in him, but what he could tell you was that he was in love. He was proud to tell you too. Anything and everything that came out of his mouth was 'Hermione this,' 'Hermione that,' Harry had been his best friend and Hermione's for twelve years and he had never heard him say Hermione's name so much. But he blamed the constant talk of Hermione on Ron's current relationship status.

Pictures covered the flat Ron and Hermione shared most all of them moving. Hermione fancied the ones that were still, but still enjoyed looking at the moving ones. The photographs on the mantle of the fireplace seemed to bring joy to the dark flat. Hermione would stand looking at each picture almost every day, remembering some of the times she had with Ron or Harry. The good and bad, the hurt and love, the past and present, each and every photograph held a special place in her heart. She had memorized each and every picture, she knew where they were and what they were doing. The photographs gave her a sense of hope. She had made it through the past, and can get through anything that may happen in the future. It was a sense of comfort, as well. By placing the pictures on the mantle, it was her way of calling the small little flat home.

Hermione pulled the blankets around her small figure, the lit fire only giving off enough heat for one room, and the candle only giving enough light for her body and book in her hand. A crash of thunder shook the flat and lightening lit up the room. The electricity had gone out and it was only her home that night. It bothered her when Ron was at work for so long. She worried too much, he would say. She would scoff and say he was being ridiculous. But in her heart, she knew he was right. She worried each and every day she would lose him exactly like two years ago while they were on the run. She worried he would find someone prettier or better or smarter. It sickened her.

Another flash of lightening made her jump, and help her forget about her thoughts. Ron was alright, he was safe with Harry. Harry would protect him. She closed her book, giving up after reading the same sentence three times and laid her head on the pillow of the couch. She allowed herself to sleep, to release her thoughts from her mind and surrender to what her body was telling her.

Ronald Weasley hated the rain. He hated apparating in the rain, he just hated everything about it. He even hated driving in the rain-although it was something he rarely did. He looked out the window of the pub he visited every day after work with Harry, and saw the rain slowly falling down the window. He tapped his fingers and placed his head in his hands, looking into space. He looked at Harry, who had started a conversation with the bartender about Quidditch. Ron knew he wouldn't be missed in the conversation. All he wanted to do was go home, his muscles ached from Auror training, and head throbbed from thinking too much about his life. He wanted to hold Hermione in his arms and feel her body on his. Ron pulled out his wand and Dissaparated on the spot.

The flat was quiet for a Monday night. Ginny usually came over for dinner, Ron looked around the flat and noticed the dirty dishes in the sink, he looked at his watch.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled. It was past midnight. He couldn't believe he was out that long not even enjoying himself. He walked to their tiny living room and saw Hermione curled into a ball on the couch. Her tamed hair was spread out around the pillow and he saw pink sweatpants peeking out beneath the blanket. He chuckled removing his jacket and sitting at the end of the couch. Ron slid closer, feeling the need to grab her in his arms and carry her to bed. She stirred in her sleep, coughing.

"Ron," she mumbled. "Are you home? Please say you are." Ron stood up making his way toward her and sat on the floor at her head.

"I'm here, Hermione." He smiled, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

"I've been waiting for you. I was hoping you'd come home when Ginny got here for dinner." She said sleepily.

"I'm sorry, love." He whispered, kissing her hand. "My classes went late and Harry kept me at the pub. If I had known what time it was, stupid Muggle watch…" his voice trailed off.

"I gave you that watch," she smirked.

"It's not useful all the time, you know." He laughed.

"Oh, I know."

Hermione pushed herself up, patting the spot next to her for Ron to sit down. He laid his head down on her lap, his whole body relaxing. She began to run her fingers through his hair, "I love you." She whispered.

"I love you, Hermione." He said back, not wanting to make it sound like he only said it because she did. Her soft fingers, made his mind go blank and his eyes lids slowly became heavier.

"5th year." She said softly. "I fell in love with you." She smiled, her eyes closed as if trying to remember the exact moment. "I went home for the beginning of Christmas vacation, to see my family. And I couldn't understand why I was so sad all the time. I should have been happy to be with my family since I never see them during the school year, but I couldn't seem to laugh or smile. It was terrible. But then when I got the owl from you inviting me to your house for Christmas, my mood changed. I was happy, and excited to see you. I made myself believe I was excited to get away from the constant nagging about why I didn't have a boyfriend from my parents, but honestly…I was happy to be seeing you're beautiful face and spending every second with you and I was distraught because I was away from you." She paused, Ron felt a tear fall from her face onto his. "You mean the world to me, Ron. I don't want to lose you again." He knew she was referring to two years ago.

"Hermione," he brought his head up to hers. "I'll never be able to forgive myself for leaving you and Harry by yourselves. But that's never going to happen again. I love you more than anything, and I was stupid to let you go, but I'm here now. And I'll spend the rest of our lives together making it up to you." Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her onto his lap he held her as she cried. He pulled the blanket tight around the both of them. Slowly her sobs subsided and she fell asleep in his arms. He, too, fell asleep, as another crash of lightening lit up the room, as if the sky had wanted one last photograph of them, wrapping in each other's arms.