Summer was at its end. Voldemort had been dead for two months now. Everyone had been kind of numb right after that Great Battle. We buried our dead – my brother, Fred, included – in a sort of dream haze. At least, that was how I had felt. Seeing his dead face, lying down there was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. His eyes were closed, his face whiter than it had ever been. His fingers were getting kind of rigid already, and I was sure that that wasn't my brother anymore. That was it. Then, in a burst of red flames, he was gone, forever.

I cried that night, harder than ever in my whole life.

Afterwards, we held a huge feast at the Great Hall. Our dead deserved a send-off worthy of the great warriors they were. And I hoped that, wherever they ended up, they were receiving a welcome just as grand. Maybe those legends of Valhalla were true after all.

At night, I entertained thoughts that they were indeed properly received. I liked to imagine that my brother was meeting figures like Hercules and Achilles. And eating all the things he liked the most. And… just waiting for the rest of us to show up.

Mortality. That was the worst I had to face. I figured that, someday, my beloved ones would have to see me, lying lifelessly in cold stone. I felt for them. They'd have to go through what I had gone through upon seeing Fred. And I was lucky that it hadn't been me this time, although I knew that my time would eventually come. I was, indeed, pretty grateful for being alive.

I just had no idea what I would do with the years that lay ahead me.

Anyhow, from that party on, we were all kind of in an adrenaline rush. We went back to the Burrow – Harry and Hermione included – and we all just felt…relief and gratitude to be alive, to have gone through it and for it to be over. Everything was just so intense. Those sunny afternoons we spent in the garden, just sitting there, till the sun went down. They were so filled with hope, with possibility. We had our whole lives ahead of us. We had gone through dark times, we could do virtually anything.

But it didn't last long. We were all growing restless by the day, as if we were all waiting for the next strike. Our peace, so cherished, seemed more threatened by an invisible menace every day. My mother wouldn't look George in the face anymore. I guessed it was because it reminded her too much of what she had lost. What we all had lost. She would just look the other way when we were eating at the table, answer him without ever looking him in the eyes.

It was taking its toll on George, too. So much that one day, at dinner, he just announced that he would close his and, formerly, Fred's shop indeterminately. "To see what else is out there" he said. And with that, he was gone by the next morning, never told us where he went.

And everybody ended up leaving as well. Harry was next: Kingsley called upon him to join a tactics force group that would hunt the remaining death eaters. There were some cases of muggles disappearing in Romania and they suspected it was related to the former followers of Voldemort. Romania! So we offered him a goodbye dinner.

Ginny and Harry had been oddly distant all summer. They were really polite towards each other, and they hovered around as if there was this invisible crystal bubble that separated them by one meter at all times. Hey, I may be her older brother, but I do notice these things. I had been noticing a lot of things lately. And Hermione often commented that I was really quiet too.

So in the night of Harry's farewell party I noticed Hermione was distracted in a corner, looking upwards a lot, as if lost in thought. She didn't notice me staring at her. So when she went inside, and I went after, she was surprised to see I had followed her.

Hermione had been doing the dishes. Manually. She was avoiding using magic as of lately. At first I had teased her about it, but then I stopped when I realized that, even though she dismissed my teasing with a little smile, she would look down and a dark shadow would pass through her eyes. I worried, but I had difficulty breaching the subject. I didn't want for the summer to end earlier.

"Hermione"

She broke a dish, startled by the sound of my voice.

"Oh, Ron! Look at that" she said, nervously pointing to the white porcelain mess at the kitchen floor. She went down to pick it up, but I quickly took my wand and murmured "reparo". Hermione swallowed loudly, and stood up awkwardly, as if she had forgotten that that spell existed.

The dish was soon repaired, and I put it back in its place. I apologized, even though I knew that nowadays Hermione jumped at the smallest sound.

"I'm sorry, I …I just came by to see if you wanted a butterbeer. You know, Ginny is going to finish them all. I never knew she had it in her, that girl" and I smiled at her.

She looked up and gave me a smile in return, but I knew her heart wasn't in it. "Sure, why not. I can always finish those dishes later."

"I'll do them for you" I said, in suddenly altruistic inspiration. She was already on her way out to the gardens when she suddenly turned back to me.

"Ron…I can't stay here much longer either. I have to go and get my parents. In Australia" she told me, a trace of sadness and regret in her voice. Or maybe it was just my wishful thinking.

I knew she would eventually have to leave, and I had been thinking a lot about that. So I looked at her with all the sincerity I could muster, took a deep breath for courage and said, a little shakenly:

"Hermione, I would like to go with you. If you'll have me, of course." Her hands were in between mine, and were oddly cold.

I let out the breath I was holding, in eager anticipation. It was just that, going to Australia with her, just the two of us. Nothing else happened between us after that kiss before the last battle. But it didn't matter. We were still adjusting to that new life we had ahead of us. We just hadn't had the time before to figure it out what we were going to do with ourselves in case we survived. So ever since we came to the Burrow, the more I thought about it, the more I decided I needed to have Hermione in my future.

She smiled at me; more brightly this time, went up to the tip of her toes and hugged me. "Thanks, Ron" And I could hear a hint of tears in her voice. I hugged her more tightly. That restlessness, that awkwardness that had been going on in the final weeks of summer, it all went away in moments like these with her. I'd almost lost her too; and now we owed to the dead to live our lives, to progress on them. And that was what I wanted to do by going to Australia with her.

We ended up heading back to the party, hand in hand. We noticed sly looks here and there, but nobody made any comments.

Harry went away the next morning. We all lined up, just outside the magical wards of the Burrow, to say goodbye to him before he apparated to the Ministry. "Have a blast, mate" I told him. He smiled at me, took the hand I offered and we hugged. I could tell by the way he looked at me before going on to say goodbye to Mum that he was feeling guilty. But I didn't know what he felt guiltier about: whether for leaving us, or for not leaving us sooner. Even in the first weeks after the battle, when we were all basking in the glory of victory, on those sunny afternoons that seemed endless, I could tell he felt that happiness wasn't for him. Ever the boy that self-sacrifices, our Harry was.

He finally went, after saying goodbye to everyone, with a final sad look towards Ginny. She had her back turned on him, but I could see silent tears in her eyes. She had given him a cold goodbye and now seemed to regret it. Even though nothing happened between them besides polite conversation all summer, she felt abandoned and was angry at him. I felt sorry for Harry; I knew how my sister could be. Those two would have a hard time understanding each other.

On the other side, Hermione and I were enchanted by our newfound relationship that started when I said I would go to Australia with her. Truly, all we did was snogg each other senseless most of the time, but I was happy, and I could tell that she was too. She didn't jump up in fright so much these days. Sometimes we would spend the whole afternoon cuddling in the couch. She would tell me all about the latest book she'd been reading, I would talk about Quidditch, and those were the best afternoons of my entire life.

So much that one day, a couple of weeks after Harry left, when Ginny came to tell me that she was going back to Hogwarts to finish her last year, and asked if I wanted to go back too, I told her about my plans to go to Australia.

"Ron – she said, clearly impressed – who would've said. The better man, aren't you?" Then she stared me up a little longer. "I'm so proud of you, little brother" She hugged me then. "All grown up".

"Hey – I said, teasingly because her talk was making me a little uncomfortable – I'm the one who's supposed to say that to you." Then she released me, her eyes slightly red, and I instantly knew she was thinking of Fred. She had always followed him around. Of all of her brothers, he had been the one she had chosen as her mentor.

I took her hand, at a loss for words after noticing her pain. I just squeezed it a little and turned back, towards the door. "Well, I'll take you to the station tomorrow, then". I smiled a little, tightly, at her, and she looked back at me, generously. "Thank you", she said. And as I walked out of her room at the Burrow I knew I was leaving my sister to her own luck. She had made her choice, I made mine. But she would be alone, whilst I would be with Hermione. My heart tightened, but I felt there was nothing else I could do.

The house was now emptier by the day; with Ginny, George and Harry gone; my father and my other brothers were each at their own houses and/or back to work. Hermione seemed to miss the movement, and, specially, missed Ginny. And now she no longer seemed so comfortable sitting next to me on the couch, or as willing to snogg.

That is why I was so surprised when, one night, a week after Ginny left, she came by my room in the middle of the night. I at first thought something had happened, so I quickly sat up as she stood next to my bed.

"Hermione, wh-what is wrong?" I stuttered. But then I saw her eyes. She was looking intently at me with those brown eyes of her, and mutely sat down on my bed and joined me under my covers. She started kissing me and she put her hands under my shirt, trying to lift it. I held her hands, gently. "Are you sure?" She nodded, in silent agreement.

The next morning I woke up, warmed by thoughts of what happened the night before, only to find out Hermione wasn't in my bed anymore. I sat up and dumbly looked around for her. She wasn't anywhere inside my room.

I put up a rumpled shirt and went down the stairs loudly, two steps at a time, anxiously looking for Hermione. I found her at the kitchen, sipping tea with my mom, dark bags under her eyes. I immediately sensed something was wrong, but I couldn't very well ask in front of dear Molly. They were talking about Fred. My mom had a dreamy look about her, something that as of lately was quite frequent when she talked about him. And she talked about him a lot.

"Fred was a true hero, my son was. He fought bravely, yes. Had he survived he would've made a great auror, there's no doubt about it!"

"Good morning" I interrupted, not without some guilt. "Hermione, I can't find the – er- book you were telling me about the other day" Mum looked at me weirdly. "Care to help me with that?"

Hermione never took her eyes off her cup of tea as she answered. "I promised to help your mother out with house chores, Ron" Which seemed really odd to me.

So for the next few days she avoided me constantly, and she never repeated her midnight visit to my bed, which got me pretty much freaking out. She wouldn't let me touch her, and we never had a private moment to speak. I even thought about knocking on her door one night, getting so far as to cross the corridor. But I stopped myself, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. Maybe she was nervous about the upcoming trip to Australia. She was indeed busy packing and making travel arrangements. She didn't want to use magic, so she opted for a muggle flight, even though it would take that much longer.

In the end, I couldn't say that I was surprised when I came upon her one day making travel reservations for one. I just stood there, in the same room as her, as she got off the phone. She wasn't mad at me for eavesdropping. She didn't attempt any explanation of her behavior. She just looked sad as she told me she decided it was best if she went alone.

Even so, it felt like a bloody slap to the face. Temper got the best of me as I asked when was she going – to which she answered "tonight". I cursed loudly and she just looked at me, with the same sad eyes and walked past, right to the door. "I'm sorry, Ron" were her departing words.

I was fuming with anger, so I didn't go after her.

And thus she left. Harry was gone, Ginny was gone, Hermione was gone. My brothers were gone. My mother forgot she ever had any children other than Fred, and father barely came home anymore. I knew the magical world was a chaos, and they were trying to rebuild the ministry. But I think he was grateful for the opportunity to stay away from our broken home, for which I resented him.

So I was left at the Burrow, without the only future I had envisioned for myself: Hermione.