Disclaimer: Do you honestly think this dribble could be mistaken for the work of the great JKR? Please.

A/N: Ah, for the love of reviews! Many thanks to you: xNymphadoraX, Padfoot and Prongs Gurl, and the-missing-arm-of-krum (I've always loved your name!).

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II. Talk With Me Under This Sun Soaked Sky

Hermione cast an anxious look back over her shoulder, wondering if she could get away without him noticing her. As soon as this thought occurred, she wondered why she was thinking like this. After all, hadn't she originally started out for this purpose, to find Ron? Why did she suddenly feel so nervous?

But what was she supposed to say? Unlike Harry, who likely knew exactly what to say to comfort Ginny, she hadn't the slightest idea. What if she ended up saying something completely inappropriate? She could never look him in the face again...

Just as Hermione came to the decision to back away and let Ron have some time to himself, her body came to its own decision: without even realizing it, she began walking hesitantly in his direction, feeling more and more nervous all the while.

When she reached him, he appeared to come out of the trance that had been holding him; he looked up at her, squinting against the brightness of the morning, and gave her his usual goofy grin. "Hey, Hermione."

She allowed herself to smile back, although she knew it must look weak and uncertain. "Hi, Ron."

"Well, go ahead and sit down," he patted the ground next to him as an invitation, and Hermione hesitated only slightly before doing so. Once she had arranged herself beside him, he allowed her one more small smile before turning his attention, once again, to stare into nothingness.

Perhaps this was all Ron needed, just to sit on the bank of the lake and clear his mind. She was a bit surprised that he was holding himself together so well, after the miniature breakdown she had witnessed right after they had realized Fred was gone. Then again, people mourned in different ways...she was clever enough to know not to push him, to just be there for him should he need her.

After about five minutes in the companionable silence, Ron once again seemed to come out of his reverie. He heaved a deep sigh, running a hand through his tangled red hair...Hermione realized she was staring and turned her face in the opposite direction, blushing faintly. When she once again turned to him, she was startled to see that he was watching her intently. She was more startled when she noticed that the piercing blue eyes that had once made her feel so safe and welcome were gone, to be replaced with a closed, cold look.

However, when he spoke the same familiar voice issued from his mouth. He sounded perfectly normal, although a little stiff, as he said, "Look, Hermione...about that kiss..." she tensed automatically, "...I just wanted to you know...I'm really sorry about that."

So that's what it was. She was bit surprised that he would bring this up just now, but maybe he wanted to go ahead and deal with it...didn't want to string her along or anything.

"Oh...okay..."

"I mean, I'm not sorry I kissed you!" he hastily rushed to correct himself, and Hermione felt the tight bubble that had formed in her chest loosen slightly. "I mean...I just wish it hadn't been in those circumstances. I shouldn't have waited until we were in the middle of war to kiss you. And...well, I just didn't want you to think I was doing it because I thought I had to, or anything."

Hermione was momentarily at a loss for words. She was also confused as to how he could be saying these things to her in such a tender voice, when the only thing she could see reflected in his eyes was a cold despair.

"Ron, I can't allow you to take the credit for everything," she made an attempt at a joke. "After all, I seem to remember you weren't exactly the one starting it..."

He chuckled slightly. "Well, I know I was the one that wasn't doing anything to stop it, so I'm partly responsible..." and then he trailed off, his eyes growing even more distant.

Feeling helpless and heartbroken, Hermione reached out and covered his hand with her own. He glanced at her, smiled, and laced their fingers together, squeezing. Then they both leaned simultaneously back into the beech tree.

Every few seconds, Hermione would cut her eyes sideways, studying him. She kept expecting him to say something about Fred, or at least display some sort of emotion. But whatever Ron was feeling, he was uncharacteristically keeping it to himself. After about ten minutes of slyly watching him stare off into space, she was now growing slightly more worried. At one point, she would have thought that Ron could overcome anything. And he probably could...but after all, fighting your way out of a storm of acromantulas and standing up...with a broken leg...to a would-be mass murderer required a different sort of bravery. Now he would have to call on more of strength of the heart, than strength of the body.

At the exact moment this thought crossed her mind, Ron gave a sort of involuntary twitch beside her. Looking now, she saw that his eyes were shut tight, eyelids quivering.

"Ron?" she squeezed his hand once more, feeling her heart speed up. She felt she should ask "Are you okay?" but the question seemed highly stupid at the moment. Of course he was not okay, and it would seem an insult to ask.

But in an instant it was gone. He opened his eyes...they were quite dry...and gave her a half-grin. "I reckon we should be getting back to the school, you know. Mum'll be pitching a fit by now."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow...this was most unlike him...and said, "Alright. If you're sure."

Ron got to his feet in one fluid motion, then took Hermione's hands and lifted her easily. Once on their feet, he nonchalantly took her by the hand as they started for the castle. She kept quiet as the walked, noting right off the clamminess of his hands. He would feel so much better if he could just release what he was holding back...

The crowd packed into the Great Hall seemed, if anything, bigger than before. Ron instantly began to lag, dragging his feet, so Hermione latched onto him tighter as she eased her way toward Harry and the group of Weasleys. Molly's eyes were still puffy and red, although she was no longer sobbing openly. Harry had a steadying arm around Ginny's shoulders, and Percy was talking to George in a quiet, calming voice. It was a real mark of the situation, to see that George was listening. The entire family bore signs of crying...all except Ron, that is.

As they reached them, Mrs. Weasley looked up and gave them a watery smile. "Hello, Hermione dear. Ron," she walked over to her youngest son and pulled him into a tight hug. He stood stiffly, patting his mother on the back, until she released him.

"We really need to be getting back home," Mrs. Weasley told them, wiping her eyes on her cloak. "And get out of the way...while...w-while they sort things out here," and she threw a grief-stricken look at her twin son, whose face was still peaceful with laughter. She was once again overtaken by the harsh reality that he would never again entertain them with his many jokes...she collapsed into a fresh wave of tears. Supporting her, Arthur glanced back at the rest of the clan, saying quietly, "Don't hang around here too long, kids. We need to be getting back to the Burrow," and he directed his wife carefully to the front doors.

None of them really wanted to linger: Ginny, indeed, took off through the crowd, sobbing, with Harry at her heels. After one last prolonged look, George was steered out of the Hall by Percy; Bill and Fleur had already departed for the Burrow.

Now just Ron and Hermione remained; not willing to leave until she had said a proper good-bye, Hermione approached Fred slowly, reaching out to touch his hand just as she had Lupin's. Ron stayed well back; when she turned back to him, she noticed that his eyes were on the wall opposite.

"Don't think of this as the ending, Ron," she said softly. "After all, he's not gone forever...you'll see him again one day. All of you will."

Ron dragged his eyes off the wall long enough to give her a fake, strained smile. "I know." Without another word, he reached out for her hand and began pushing his way through the throng of people. Hermione, watching over her shoulder, noticed a reasonably large group of students pause by Fred's body...then all at once, the wailing began.

How peculiar that complete strangers...some, after all, knew Fred only as a legend from the days of Umbridge...could express their sorrow so easily, and Ron was trapped inside his head, unable to escape his torment.

This was her last thought as they passed the boundaries of the winged boars, and Disapparated from the sun-washed lawns.

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A/N: Okay, now that I've got it set up...the chapters, I hope, will start getting longer. And I'd like at least three reviews between posts...how else will I train you people?