A/N: Yay, I finally managed to update! I am having a hard time with this story, and am relieved that I could complete this chapter. It's much shorter than usual, but I guess something is better than nothing.

Thank you all for all those reviews. I know you are eager to read this, but I am very invested in my other story 'Fly Away Home' for now. I just needed to write something more fun after all the angst of ISoH and ABCoA. So the updates to this might take a while. However, I won't abandon this story.

Love you all and thank you for your patience. xoxoxo

And, yes, the title is from Ed Sheeran's Lego House. I've no clue why other than it just seemed perfect.

Chapter 2: Pick up the Pieces

She was late and the door to Ron's old bedroom was open. Not just unlocked- but left ajar.

Hermione berated herself silently. Taking a quick look at the clock, she strode quickly to the dresser and pulled out a pair of faded-blue joggers along with an old, white top that had seen better days. She came to a momentary halt remembering the bubbly young witch to whom the articles had once belonged. The familiar pang of loss hit her again; of late, life had become a struggle of sorts. Sniffing her tears away, she continued to get dressed.

"I hope you can see we are taking care of Teddy, Tonks," she muttered after she was done, and wiped the traces of moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand. It felt like the pain of losing loved ones was etched into their very being. Regular and otherwise mundane things brought back memories of better days. Some of these people had become her family to her until they were snatched away by the cruel hands of death way before time.

With the grief intensifying she longed for Ron and the strength his presence alone could provide her. Pausing for a moment to gather her wits and forcing away the urge to Apparate back to him, she rushed out of his old bedroom and hastened down the rickety steps towards the kitchen.

She was late. Molly was already at the stove getting the breakfast ready.

The sight was so familiar that she felt as if she had grown up in this house, with these people all along. She glanced silently at Ginny, who was busy finishing the last spoons of her porridge. Arthur was practically hidden behind the newspaper; a half-eaten toast dangling from his fingers. The presence of these people warmed her heart, and for one faltering heartbeat, she questioned her decision. The Burrow had given her a home when she had none- the Weasley Seniors had filled in for her parents seamlessly just like they had done for Harry. She grabbed the railing and skipped over the broken step in a practised motion and barely noticed when the last step creaked as usual.

As she pulled her chair, Arthur looked up from his paper and gave her a warm, fatherly smile. When Ginny caught her eyes, she quirked an eyebrow gestured wordlessly towards Molly and grinned.

How could she not feel at home in this place?

She felt every bit like the older daughter who had been caught sneaking out after curfew and was now expecting a telling off from their mother. The seed of guilt of being discovered was so deeply rooted in love that it amazed her, making her fall in love a little more with Ron's family.

No, she corrected herself, their family.

"I should be off," said Arthur. The sound of his voice and scraping of the chair caused the elderly witch to turn around and finally catch Hermione's guilty eyes. Hermione stood on the spot but Molly's face was impassive as she strode towards her husband. She pecked him on the cheek and asked him to take care of himself. Once Arthur had left, the older witch turned around and glanced at Hermione, who felt an intense urge to blurt out an apology. Needless to say, she was more than shocked when Molly shook her head, smiling to herself and patted Hermione's cheek.

She pulled a plate for herself, still a little confused.

"That was close," chuckled Ginny. "Do you want me to ask why you're late today?" she whispered with a smirk.

"No! Absolutely not." Hermione drank deeply from her cup to hide her embarrassment. It was still not very clear what Molly had up her sleeve. Perhaps, she had left the door open by mistake? Or was it Ginny?

"You are clearing the chicken coop after you finish cleaning your room," instructed Molly to Ginny as she joined them at the table with a plate of fried eggs. She spooned generous amounts onto Hermione's plate. Still unsure where she stood with the elderly witch, Hermione could barely manage to look her in the eye.

"Later?" Ginny pleaded next to her.

"No." declared her mother firmly. "I want your room clean before you leave for Diagon Alley for your books."

"But Mum-"

"No 'buts'. If you're done, off you go right now."

Ginny huffed her way out, muttering loudly how it was unfair that she never got to enjoy the good scenes. Hermione bit back a nervous chuckle and concentrated on her plate, but that was until Molly placed her cup of tea down and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. The apology was waiting on her lips anyway.

"For what, dear?" asked the elderly witch.

"You know, I-" she began but only managed to end up staring at her plate.

"Did you really think, I wasn't aware that you were leaving the house every night?"

Hermione looked up so quickly that she feared she might have sprained her neck. "You knew?" she asked mortified.

"When you've brought up seven kids, you tend to 'know' a lot of things."

"Are you mad at me?" she inquired in a very small voice. She didn't want Molly to be ashamed of her and was glad when the Weasley matriarch smiled kindly. Her eyes crinkled and Hermione noticed that there was sadness in them, and not anger.

"What you children often seem to forget is that we too were young once," Molly sighed. She placed her cup down and looked unseeing at the table and Hermione followed her gaze.

She remembered a time when the place would resound with laughter and hope, the better times when the Weasley family and the Order members gathered around it. Back then, the place would resonated with life and a will to fight. And now, with only two of them, the silence of the house felt overbearing.

"Arthur and I have seen two wars, Hermione," Molly said in a voice so pained that tears pooled in Hermione's eyes. She wiped them off with the back of her hand as inconspicuously as she could manage.

"We have lived during and after both of them." Molly continued. "I know, the days after the end are the toughest- to know you survived when so many didn't..." she paused and let out a sigh before meeting Hermione's eyes again. "But despite all that we went through, neither of us were as young as you kids are now. We weren't so deep in the heart of the battle at your age."

Warm, plum hands found hers, and Hermione found it hard to hold back her tears.

"I know you need Ron just as much as he needs you."

It wasn't a split-second decision, not even a conscious one that made Hermione leave her chair, dash around the table and collapse on the floor in front of Molly. She buried her face in the lap of the woman who was a mother in ways even her own lacked. Molly smelled of spices and something else that made her feel secure and at home. Only Ron was a stronger comfort.

As experienced hands began soothing her back and tucking her messed curls away from her tearstained face, Hermione wrapped her fingers around Molly's wrist, holding onto that maternal comfort she so craved. She questioned herself once again if she really wanted to leave the Burrow.

…..

Ron and Harry dragged their soaking wet forms into the Grimmauld Place kitchen much later that night to find a warm fire crackling merrily in the hearth. A curly haired witch sat at the dining table, totally engrossed in a large volume that lay in front of her.

"Masters have soiled the carpet," admonished the old elf, quickly bringing two large towels which he handed over to the boys as he proceeded to clean the mess their mud-soaked boots had brought into the house.

Hermione looked up, beaming, and Ron noticed she was wearing one of his old jumpers. The sight filled his heart, draining away all his weariness.

"You're early!" he grinned as he dried his hair and stripped off the jacket to dump it over the back of a chair.

She smiled in a way that caused her cheeks to colour sharply, and for a moment, he stood stunned, realising how utterly beautiful she looked with the cheeks blushing and the eyes gleaming. Blimey, how long had it been since he had seen her so blissfully happy? Perhaps forever.

"And you're soaked," she joked, looking between the boys and the pile of clothes both were dumping on the chairs.

Kreacher let out a frustrated sigh and proceed to vanish them. He clicked his fingers to dry the clothing still on their body, possibly to avoid more mess.

"Thanks, Kreacher. You are a lifesaver, " sighed Harry. Collapsing on the empty chair, he took off his glasses and began wiping them on his now clean tee.

Ron, however, took a few long strides to reach Hermione and bent to kiss her softly on her lips. They closed their eyes in unison and he felt her release a small moan. Her warm palm pressed on his unshaven cheek and he grabbed her wrist, soaking in her closeness. It was insane how her touch soothed him in ways nothing else could.

Once he had pulled away (much too soon of course), he noticed that her pyjama clad legs were tucked under her. She looked warm, cosy and utterly at home. He reckoned this was one sight he'd love to come back home to, every single day of his life.

"You look happy," he whispered as he took the chair next to her and wrapped an arm around her, nuzzling her ear softly with his lips. She beamed and pulled her chair closer to rest her head on his shoulder. She might have been on the verge of saying something but then she pressed her lips together as if trying to stop them from spilling out their secret. A smile lingered in her eyes.

Harry cleared his throat loudly, sure to grab their attention, and disrupted the blissful moment. Hermione looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing. Ron rolled his eyes and kicked a booted foot under the table. Prat!

Harry looked at the two of them and rolled his eyes. Hermione, who had been busy marking and keeping her book aside, had missed the silent conversation between the boys.

"So, how was your day?" she quipped eagerly, looking between them.

"Looks like we've to read up a lot," grumbled Harry, and she laughed.

"And assignments, loads of bloody assignments," he intoned. And he'd thought being War Heroes would have sufficed.

She laughed at their tone and they both stared at her and shook their heads.

"Not funny," he admonished playfully.

"It is, for me," she chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. Ron would have responded but Harry let out a dramatic moan.

"Not at the table, you two!"

"Later," he whispered into her hair and she blushed deeply.

"How did you get so wet if it was all theory?" she asked once Kreacher had brought them three steaming bowls of French onion soup. The boys literally attacked the bowls while Kreacher went back to the kitchen. Ron silently hoped there was enough food in the pantry to sate their monstrous appetite.

"Twenty laps around the pitch!" he exclaimed once he was done with the soup. "These trainers are bloody crazy, I tell ya'. Harry finished mouldy Voldy without a single lap. What d'ya say, mate?"

"Absolutely," Harry agreed. "And- we had some insane amount of workouts post that."

Hermione, he could see, was trying her best to stifle her laughter. "Impressive! I'm so proud of you guys!" she concluded.

He grinned. " And how was your day?" he inquired of her, and suddenly she had that gleam in her eyes again.

"Good," she replied biting her lower lip for the briefest amount of time.

"Someone's cheerful," Harry observed. He licked his spoon clean and dropped it back on the plate with a satisfied sigh. "Care to share the news?"

Hermione looked at the two of them, placed her knife and fork daintily onto her plate before biting her lips again. Ron decided he would end up kissing her on the spot if she continued to look at him that way, Harry could go sod himself.

"Harry, erm… would you mind if-if I shift here with the two of you?"

Ron literally dropped his spoon with a clutter and gaped at her, while Harry, looked at him and smirked.

"You mean to say, shift with Ron, am I right?"

Ron, still speechless, turned towards her.

"I could take up a different room if it makes you uncomfortable."

"WHAT?!" he gasped and turned to his best mate.

Harry shook his head vigorously. "Are you kidding, Hermione?!" he laughed, "Ron will kick my arse!"

"He's right, you know," Ron added with a huge grin.

"Bit pointless actually since you both will end up in his bed anyway."

Hermione blushed and picked up her spoon. Ron tried hard to stay in the present and not end up doing something that could possibly scar Harry for life. Hermione had to know that her flustered-self did insane things to him.

"You spoke to Mum?" he asked, happy to note that his best mate sobered at her mention.

"She knew all along that I was- you know- spending the nights here."

Both the boys gasped in unison.

"How are you still alive, Ron?" Harry pondered aloud. Ron was asking the same question to himself.

"And-?"

"And she said, after everything we've been through, it makes more sense this way."

The cheer from moments ago dimmed as he saw the sadness fill her eyes. He reckoned he'd have to thank his Mum, if he could muster the courage to talk to her of course. He needed Hermione, every minute- every second of his life. He wouldn't know how to live without her. No one but she knew about his nightmares. And even when they were among others and he felt the shudder of the Cruciatus running through his veins, she would be there, holding his hand, pulling him into her. How she figured, he didn't know, but he guessed they had somehow fine-tuned themselves to each other's emotions.

"Any chance she'll allow Ginny to come down too?" He asked to lighten the mood for Harry's sake. They never spoke of it, but knew instinctively that Harry still blamed himself for Ron's torture.

"Not anytime soon, Harry."

He laughed along with Hermione as Harry dug into another treacle tart grumpily.

"You'd think something good would come out of being a war hero," he grumbled.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Hermione, taking pity on him, "she said she'll sneak out later tonight."

Harry cheered up and served himself another tart, most likely in celebration this time.

"Did you get your stuff?" he asked her quietly.

"Not yet, I thought I'll ask Harry first," she smiled. "Not that I expected him to deny but still, you know…"

"Yeah," he agreed. "But you aren't leaving in a rush tomorrow, are you?"

"No," she bit her lips again, "but you have your training."

"Which means we should hit the bed early."

"Of course…" she chuckled.

Ron could never get enough of her smiles. He felt utterly blissful. It had been a good day, and no matter how much he complained about the training, he loved it. And now Hermione was going to move in with him.

Deciding that Harry would prefer to be left alone anyway as Ginny would be arriving soon, he pushed his chair back and rose.

"You're done?" she asked, pushing away her empty plate and wiping her mouth on the napkin.

"Yeah, shall we leave?" he asked her. She nodded in affirmative and stood up as well and Ron made a split second decision.

"Harry, just pretend you didn't see this."

Ignoring the confused look on the two faces he loved best, he scooped up the girl in his arms.

"Eww, you two!" mocked Harry, while Hermione let out a tiny shriek and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ron! What-"

He just gave her a lopsided grin. and placed a quick peck on her lips. With his eyes locked with hers, he walked out of the dining room. He had wasted a lot of time stopping himself from loving her. He wasn't ready to lose another minute.