This story contains slash. If you don't like it, or you don't know what it means, then I suggest you push the 'back' button now. Flames will be mocked and posted on my livejournal for my friends to mock as well. Flames are different from criticism, however, that I can handle, as long as it's rational. I may not agree, but I'll listen and not delete your review. I just don't want anything resemblng this: "OMG how cud u make them gay, its so wrong, u suck!11"
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Logically Natural
The photo album was dedicated almost entirely to photos of her.
Hermione smiling, Hermione scowling, Hermione reading.
Hermione in Potions, Hermione in Charms, Hermione in Defense.
Ron's favorite picture was the one in which she was trying to do what looked like Arithmancy homework, but Crookshanks was leaving inky paw prints all over the symbols.
He also liked the one where she was dusting the flat the two of them and Harry had moved into after graduation, apron on her waist and kerchief on her head.
And there was the one that always made him shake his head and sigh. Hermione was grinning hugely at him, who had an arm around her shoulders and was grinning just as widely.
He loved her.
Remembering Hermione was easy, with the album. He could take it out and think of all thegood times.
Their first kiss.
Their first date.
His mother crying happily and planning the wedding.
Being with Hermione had been right, in a way. Ron had never loved another girl like her. Sometimes he had wondered if he didn't love Hermione in rather the same way he loved Ginny: as a sister.
But then he had shaken the traitorous thoughts out of his head. He couldn't have said that to anyone. Everyone expected him to date Hermione, marry Hermione, have children with Hermione. Everyone except himself.
Which was why it was such a relief, after the grief had passed. He still missed her, but he was no longer expected to do all those things with her,
She'd died in his arms during the final battle. Hermione had thrown off her innocence and killed Rodolphus and Rastaban Lestrange. Then Bellatrix, in a fit of fury, had hurled a killing curse. Hermione had dodged. Unfortunately, she couldn't dodge the crumbling rocks that the curse had hit instead.
Ron had found her there, pinned under a boulder, breathing heavily.
"I love you Ron," she'd murmured.
"I- I love you too," he'd told her. "Don't die."
Weakly, she'd chuckled. "And when did I ever listen to you?"
"Her-Hermione, that's not funny. You-you're dying."
"Who says I shouldn't try to go out with a laugh? That's just what Voldemort wants, you know, for us to die with hate and grief. But I won't let him control me.
"I love you, Ron. I always will."
He'd thought her gone then, and wept like never before. Of course, this was Hermione. She'd only been gathering her strength so that she could order him around with her last breath.
"Ron."
His head had snapped up.
"I know you love me – but don't even think about waiting me or some nonsense like that. I want you to be happy. I love you, but so does someone else. Someone alive.
"Now, go fight. And remember what I said."
Then she was really gone, and it was all Ron could do to leave her body there and go after the last Lestrange.
Remus Lupin had gotten to her first, manglingthe Death Eater'sbody with an exploding curse not meant to be used on humans. At first, Ron had been angry at the werewolf for taking away his revenge. Then he had realized how much more of a right to vengeance Lupin had.
Bellatrix had killed more people than Hermione.
So the battle had dragged on, theside of "Light" winning, but losing too: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, and more.
Finally, Harry had defeated Voldemort.
And life went on.
The dead were buried, and the living grieved. Those in the most consuming sorrow were the youngest: Neville, Seamus, Parvati, and of course, Harry and Ron.
The five former Gryffindors had mourned together, before realizing that they still had responsibilities to those among the living, including themselves.
Neville took over Sprout's job.
Seamus and Parvati became aurors.
Harry spent a lot of time with Lupin, learning about the legacies he had lost.
But Ron… for a while he'd simply existed.
Being with Hermione wasn't bad, he'd realized. But neither was he going to miss it. Ron felt guilty, as if in some way he'd caused her death by not wanting to marry the girl.
So he'd made the photo album, swearing to always remember her, and in that way he'd been able to move on. Remembering her last words, he tried to figure out what she'd meant.
Someone loved him, and he didn't know who - for a while.
Then he'd tried to think like Hermione, analyzing everything and seeing the clues as a whole, as pieces to an unassembled puzzle.
And suddenly it was simple.
He knew who loved him, and he knew that he loved them back, to his own surprise. This other love was new and old and different, all at the same time.
Hermione was gone now, and while dating her was not bad, Ron knew that he'd loved herand yet never been in love with her.
Being with Hermione was logical progression, but Hermione was dead, and being with Harry was not the same.
Ron closed the photo album with a smile as familiar green eyes met his.
He'd made his peace with the past, and now he lived in the present.
Loving Harry was not logical.
Loving Harry was natural.
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