First of J.K. Rowling's "hints" –

"'I need you two as well,' he [Harry] called to Ron and Hermione, who had been skulking, half concealed, in the doorway of the sitting room.

They both moved into the light, looking oddly relieved."

What were they doing? Here's what I think...

…

After the funeral, they all numbly made their way back to Shell Cottage. Harry lingered behind, carving Dobby's gravestone, his wand shaking slightly in his hand. Ron wanted to stay behind, to help, but Hermione had shaken her head wordlessly, and had tugged at his hand so as to catch up with the others. Hesitantly, he followed her. He knew that Harry wouldn't want the company, that this was something he would want to do on his own. But with Ron with Hermione and Harry with Dobby in the few hours since they had arrived at Shell Cottage, the two hadn't been able to exchange a word. They had been silent while they had dug the grave; it would have been disrespectful to talk.

Hermione had only gone a few steps without Ron before she started swaying ominously on the spot, her face a disarming white. Ron hastened to fill the distance between them and put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. He wondered to himself why he had let go of her in the first place, when he had sworn to himself to never, ever leave again. He watched as her face turned red in humiliation; she was embarrassed that she could not walk, angry at herself for being weak. Ron did not know what he could possibly say to assuage this; he did not know how he could tell her that he didn't mind this at all.

They did not talk on the way back to the cottage; they were both thinking deeply, and their unspoken words seemed to comfortably fill up the tiny space between them. Hermione still had tracks of tears down her face, from where she had cried for the elf. Ron looking down at her, feeling pathetic and helpless in her presence. He felt useless, and the feeling filled him up with guilt. Though there was something warm deep in the pit of his stomach, and he thought it had to do with the way she felt when he put his arms around her shoulders. He felt unworthy, he knew he shouldn't be feeling like this, but he couldn't help it. She felt like she fit. She felt like she was meant to be there.

Bill was hovering anxiously in the doorway for the two of them, and Ron knew – before Bill could say a word – what his older brother was about to ask. And Ron knew what he would have to say back, how he would have to disappoint his brother. Hermione looked up at him, the look of comprehension mirrored in her eyes. Ron and Hermione wordlessly followed Bill into the kitchen, which was empty. Everyone else had assembled in the sitting room, where Fleur was administering large mugs of hot chocolate.

"Ron," Bill began, his eyes focused determinedly on his younger brother. Up close, Ron realized how old Bill looked, and then looked down at his feet to avoid his brother's gaze. "Ron, I need you to tell me – "

"I can't," Ron interjected, before Bill could finish the sentence. He hadn't meant to interrupt or be rude; but he felt irrationally nervous, and he had jumped to speak before Bill had finished.

"Listen," Bill said, his eyes now flickering from Ron to Hermione. "I know Dumbledore gave Harry a…a mission. And I respect that. But Ron, no one's heard from you in weeks. And we haven't heard from Harry or Hermione since the wedding. You came back for a bit near the holidays, but then you disappeared again, and it wasn't like you gave us any information then either."

There was a moment of tension that Ron thought Bill might not be aware of. Hermione pointedly looked off at something vaguely above Bill's shoulder at the mention of the period when Ron had walked out on them. Ever since he and Hermione had begun speaking again, Ron had resolutely tried to forget about the weeks he had spent at Shell Cottage. He knew that one day, when this was all over, he would tell her everything. He had placed those few weeks at Shell Cottage in the back of his mind, where they sometimes manifested in the form of guilt-ridden dreams. Bill bringing it up so unexpectedly made Ron's heart race uncomfortably and he felt his ears turn their telltale red.

"I can't say anything," Ron muttered. "I told you…last time," he said, still looking at his feet. He hoped Bill might drop the conversation; he was in the Order after all and knew that they could not talk about what they had done, but Bill didn't seem to be finished, and Ron was irresistibly reminded of his mother. He hoped with all his might that Bill would not bring up Ron's stay during Christmas.

Bill looked anguished. "But Ron," he said, but Ron gave his older brother a hard look. For a moment, Bill looked taken aback, as if he had not expected his younger brother to fight back. Ron and Bill had several years separating them. In the occasions where they were together – which were admittedly few owing to the fact that Bill spent most of Ron's childhood at school – Bill had always been the Older Brother. Dominant and able to get what he wanted. He hadn't expected Ron to stand his ground. A moment passed between the two, and in the end, Ron won and Bill knew it. Bill changed tact in an instant and rounded on Hermione instead.

"I know this is stuff Dumbledore gave you three to do," he started again. "But Hermione, Ron brought you here unconscious and looking as though you were tortured. I can't just ignore that and pretend that everything's okay," Bill said, now appealing to Hermione.

Hermione gave Ron a fleeting look, and then addressed Bill. "I'm sorry Bill. I'm really, really sorry. But we can't tell you anything," she said, her voice very small and quiet. Ron subconsciously moved so that Hermione was closer in his arms.

Bill gave Ron another challenging look, which Ron returned evenly. It was then that he noticed that he had a good four inches on his older brother. When neither Ron nor Hermione said anything for the next several minutes, Bill twisted his mouth in frustration, and then left the kitchen, looking regretful and slightly bemused. The two were left alone in the small, bright kitchen.

"Shall we go into the sitting room, then?" Hermione asked in that same quiet voice. She was still looking very pale, and Ron thought it might be best if she sat down for a little. He nodded and they made their way to the sitting room. There was a thin stream of conversation issuing from the small room now, no doubt abetted by the warm drinks.

In the doorway, Ron paused, and Hermione stopped too, looking back at him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Is something wrong?" she asked, and he felt her warm hand in his. A golden ray of light shone down on them from the window in the corridor. They were quite concealed in the doorway. By the angle of the sitting room Luna, Dean, Fleur, and Bill, who were all assembled on the sofas, could not see the two of them.

Mortified, Ron felt a pressure build up behind his eyes. He was not going to cry. He didn't even know what was causing this, only the fact that Hermione, who had been nearly murdered less than twelve hours earlier, had just asked him if something was wrong. She was unbelievably strong. And then he realized that he had never told her this.

"Hermione," he said in a low voice. "You were... when she was…" Ron swallowed hard. There were so many things he wanted to say, and the fact that she was looking at him, her eyes on his, was making it even harder for him to get this right. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone do something that brave. It was brilliant, what you did. You were…amazing," he said very fast.

Hermione flushed a deep pink of pride and pleasure from the unexpected compliment. "Thank you," she said softly.

He did not have his arm around her now, because they were standing in the doorway talking, and it would have been slightly awkward. But the brief disconnect in physical contact seemed to pull at something deep within Ron, so he reached out and took her hand. "Really," he said, because he wanted her to know how much he truly meant it. "You were incredible."

Hermione's cheeks would soon be giving off heat that he could feel. "Thank you," she said again. "And," she said, the blush deepening to red. "Well, thank you for saving…my life," she whispered.

And then Ron did what he did every time something became uncomfortable; he made a joke. "Nah, don't mention it," he said offhandedly, tilting his head and grinning. Hermione looked as though she was trying to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. But then her expression turned serious once more.

"Really, Ron," she said, looking up at him. "And thank you for…" she broke off, her cheeks growing a magnificent crimson that Ron thought only his ears were capable of accomplishing. Ron waited for her to finish, but she didn't look as though she could.

"What?" Ron pressed, looking at her questioningly. What could she possibly be thanking him for?

"Thank you for saying my name," she said, speaking to his knees. She cleared her throat before she started talking again. "When you were locked in the cellar, sometimes I could hear you. Well, at the time I wasn't sure if it was in my head or not, but it made me…well, just knowing that…that you were down there…fighting…" her voice faded out, but she did not need to say anything else.

Now they both were blushing, and Ron thought it probably looked extremely stupid: the two of them standing here so embarrassed that they would soon be able to create a flame from the warmth emitting from their faces. Now he was rendered speechless, and somehow, he couldn't bring himself to joke. So he did something else. He did something so unlike himself that he was surprised at first. He did not know what on earth had possessed him to do it, only the feeling that it was irrevocably right.

Hermione's head was bent slightly, her hair curtaining over her face. Leaning forward, Ron brushed the hair away from her cheek and kissed her very softly, his lips lingering for a moment on her skin. It felt wonderful, and Ron felt every extremity of his body go completely numb. He might have fallen over if there wasn't the doorway to support him.

Hermione looked up, her eyes wide with what Ron realized was shock and – it made his heart beat even faster – happiness. Though now there was the inevitable awkwardness. Ron realized that he had never kissed her before. She had kissed him a few times, be he had never kissed her. He wondered when Shell Cottage had become so hot all of the sudden.

Miraculously, the awkwardness seemed to evaporate, the familiar tension dissipating in the sea air. And it was...nice. Ron didn't know what else described what it was like, just standing here with her. Something was different.

"Oh," she said softly, and she smiled. Ron found himself smiling too, and he knew he probably looked like an idiot, staring at her and grinning like that, but he couldn't help it. He wondered if he should say something now, but he doubted that he would be able to form words. If he ever managed to get anything out, it would be a miracle if it was coherent. It was wonderful, just standing here looking into her smile, knowing that he had caused that. Knowing that he had kissed her. He wanted to stand here forever, just looking that her. And she was looking at him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted.

Her lips! Ron had wanted to know what they felt like for so long. The desire to kiss her - and not on the cheek - had burned in his for so long, it was like a dull ache he carried every day. And then, with a jolt that made his throat tighten, he realized that right now, he could kiss her. They were alone, closeted in this doorway. Something had changed between them, and Ron knew that if he went to kiss her, she would not turn away, she would kiss him back. The doubt that she did not like him, in that way, had been entirely erased from his mind in that instant, in the space between heartbeats when he had kissed her on the cheek and everything between them had changed. His head reeled with this information, making him feel slightly dizzy. Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her! he thought, but he couldn't do it. His ears gave him away, they were burning red. He looked at Hermione, who was looking up, almost expectantly, at him. He couldn't breathe; he was sure she knew exactly what he was thinking. He pushed off slightly from the wall where he was slouching. He could do this. He could kiss her. He could kiss Hermione, and she would kiss him back.

But then there were loud footsteps, and a familiar voice called down to them from a few stairs above. Harry must have come in from Dobby's grave. "I'll need you two as well," he said loudly to Ron and Hermione, who both jumped, then made their way out of the doorway where they had been partially hidden, and Ron wondered for a moment if he had imagined the entire thing.

…

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but I've been making "Right Here" my priority, so I haven't had the time to add to this. If anyone has any moments they'd like to request, please tell me!

PS – If anyone has ever seen the British TV show "Skins", when Sid kisses Cassie in the kitchen in season one episode one is exactly how I imagine Ron kissing Hermione in this chapter : )