Hello there. This is the first fic I publish in English, which isn't my mother tongue language. I'd appreciate any kind of review of course.
Thanks Olive for beta-reading!
Blimey. All was over. After years in the darkness, in the dread of war. After the past months, after all he had lost.
And with a sudden pain in his left side he thought of Fred. He thought of Remus, Tonks and their child who would never remember them. He felt his anger rising in his stomach and going up to his temples.
Still, it was over. He couldn't tell himself why, but it was like his own life was over.
Following Harry, destroying the Horcruxes, that was all he knew. Yes, he had made some mistakes. He had risked losing his friends. Losing her, Hermione.
In that moment, he felt something heavy rising in his chest again, added to the anger that pressed on his mind. Hermione.
Whilst thinking of the Room of Requirement and of their kiss, he knew his ears were going pink but he couldn't suppress a smile, which quickly turned into a sigh.
Blimey, Hermione. Now all was over he was almost scared of going up to her. What would it be like? What would she say to him? Probably, they wouldn't manage to meet each other's eyes either.
As this confused flow of thoughts went through his mind, Ron went past the Quidditch pitch, or what was left of it. After the battle everything was in ruins, everyone had been looking for a place to rest, to find friends and relatives. Everything was seething, everything was a whirr. But he needed a break, far away from everyone else.
He wondered where he would begin from, what he would make of his life now. He had a boundless horizon in front of him and in that moment he realized he had never fully understood it. He had never really looked to his future, constantly pushed aside in the shadow of war. He was used to bearing that weight, but now he was getting rid of it he understood for the first time how heavy it had been. He had never been so free but so paralysed at the same time, in that echoing emptiness of the rising sun dazzling him.
He stepped towards the castle, the wind running through his hair, still ruffled and dusty after the battle.
He was about to cross the threshold when he saw her sitting in a corner, half-hidden, holding a book. Blimey, a book. How could she possibly be so terribly Hermione even in those moments?
He approached her, in the awkward attempt not to be noticed. Then he met her eyes, running through the pages of the book until a moment before, looking up to meet his. In that moment he felt home again for the first time in months. In that glance he found himself back, as he knew he was, as he wanted to be. He saw his future in those eyes, more vivid than ever. It would be as simple, as immediate, as that glance. Blimey, Hermione.