The castle was silent though it was nearly noon. Even Peeves and the resident ghosts seemed to have lost their voices as they silently floated along the deserted corridors inspecting the damage caused such a short time ago. Filch and Mrs. Norris were nowhere to be found; they escaped the castle before the fighting began.

The sun bathed the battered remains of the once great school in light and warmth, revealing crumbing walls and blood stained floors and grounds. The fallen lay in the Great Hall as if sleeping under the bright sky. The mourners had retired to their homes or to the recently vacated dormitories.

The latter was the case for the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione.

Like the castle, the sixth year girls' dormitory was silent save for the sound of three breathing women. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had been persuaded by Mr. Weasley to take a bit of sleeping drought before bed. Hermione had declined it when offered saying that she could hardly stay awake at the time as she was. Had she known just how troubled her dreams would be, she would have reconsidered the offer.

A sharp gasp tore through the stillness of the dormitory. The weary brunette sat bolt upright gasping for breath staring around the room, wand in hand, straining to remember where she was. Hogwarts. Not Malfoy Manor. Not Godric's Hollow. The war was over. Everyone was safe. She sighed in frustration and let her head fall into her hands as she waited for her sprinting heart to slow. After having these dreams so many times before, you'd think they'd get easier to deal with, she thought bitterly. She rubbed the thin scar on her neck angrily. Chills ran up and down her spine as she could still almost feel the sting of the Cruciatus Curse coursing through her veins, the terror of watching Nagini suffocate the man she considered her brother, the anguish of Ron's departure; the dream had been so real.

She looked over at her dorm mates; both seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Smiling sadly, she walked to the door. The Weasleys had suffered so much; she had no desire to disturb their slumber, Not that I could anyway.

The common room was near blinding with the midday sun shining brightly. So much so that she didn't immediately notice her ginger-haired friend standing near a window. "Morning, Sleepyhead," he said softly.

Hermione turned abruptly and instinctively drew her wand. There stood Ron, rather wide-eyed.

She sighed and lowered her weapon. "Sorry," she muttered embarrassed.

Ron walked over and embraced her. "Rough night, or. . . ah, morning?"

Hermione held on to him tighter. "You could say that," she said almost inaudibly. His strong arms had always had a knack for protecting her from her own thoughts and fears, no matter what state-of-mind she was in.

With a sniffle, she loosened her hold on him and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Thank you," she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Ron took notice, but didn't press the matter. "I've got something to show you," he said as he took her hand and led her to the window he'd been standing by earlier. Looking down on the grounds, Hermione saw an amazing sight. At least two-dozen creatures were roaming the blood stained battlegrounds; they looked like black, skeletal horses with broad, bat-like wings.

"Thestrals," she whispered in wonder. Ron smiled beside her. Her reaction had been the same as his when he saw them for the first time an hour ago. Her lips moved wordlessly as she struggled to speak. "I - I can't believe we rode on those fifth year," she said at last with smile, stifling a yawn.

"I think the whole not-being-able-to-see-them thing was probably a good thing; they don't exactly look inviting. Buckbeak was bad enough," he said. Ron watched her reflection in the glass; she was studying the creatures as if preparing for an exam. Even after everything the three of them had been through in the last year, it was comforting to know that some things would never change. After a few minutes, he asked, "So do you want to talk about it?"

He felt her body tense. "About what?"

"Your dream," he said patiently. Hermione relaxed slightly. Though her dream wasn't exactly something she wanted to discuss, it was better than discussing what happened in the Room of Requirement. It wasn't that she regretted it, it just hadn't been the best timing.

She sighed tiredly and leaned back into body unconsciously. "There isn't really anything to discuss. It's just like the ones the three of us have been having from the beginning; just relieving some rather unpleasant memories is all." She turned from the window and looked at him. "This going to sound silly, really. . . . We haven't even been apart for more than four hours, but I already missed you. . . and Harry," she added as an after thought. "It's just kind of ridiculous, isn't it?"

Ron put his arms around her once again. "Not at all, I couldn't sleep, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because you weren't in the same room. I think we both got too used to sleeping together." His ears burned scarlet at his unintended implication, "I mean in separate beds of course," he added nervously.

Hermione fought the urge to laugh at her friend's embarrassment. "I suppose you're right. . . it just seemed too quiet without your snoring," she said grinning mischievously.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Funny, I had the exact opposite problem. . . a room full of Weasley men after all." The two quietly laughed. With a cheeky grin, he stared down at her. Her eyes danced with laughter; a long way from the haunted look she had had when she first came down.

Hermione looked up into his face to find the same smile that never ceased to make her heart flutter and butterflies materialize in her stomach. Her laughter and breath caught in her throat as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her heart raced faster and the butterflies quickened as if the little buggers had been given an enormous amount of caffeine as she stared into his intense gaze.

Ron's nerves were beginning to catch up with him as he looked into her dark eyes. He noticed her lips were slightly parted and - he swallowed nervously - moist, So bloody inviting. His failing courage, however, was replaced by an unconscious need to be near her, to feel her lips again. It was that need that finally drew his lips to hers.

It was as if the butterflies had spontaneously combusted within her, leaving behind an intense warmth that quickly spread throughout her trembling body. Ron lips were intoxicating; though the kiss was slow and gentle, it was driving Hermione insane. Not that she minded. And although her knees were weakening, her need to be closer to him over took all rational thought; she couldn't get enough. She threaded her hands through his unruly hair and bridged what was left of the gap between their bodies.

The heat and friction between the two of them was quickly clouding Ron's mind. He couldn't help but notice how her kiss mimicked her personality; timid and unsure at first, but then quickly shifting to confident and even a little competitive. The thought that he brought this passionate side out of her almost sent him spiraling over the edge. The sound of her breathless moan very nearly did; it was enough to cause him to back her gently against the stone wall behind her. He felt, rather than heard, her gasp as her shoulders came into contact with the cold wall.

Coherent thought flowed into Hermione's feverish mind as she felt the cool stone through her pajamas and Ron's cleaver hands on the over heated skin of her lower back and hip. This feels so damn good, but. . . she slowed the kiss slightly, We can't let this get out of hand. To her relief, Ron seemed to understand and followed her lead. Several lingering kisses later, the two stood in each other's arms catching their breaths.

As he held her, Ron's mind wandered back to his thoughts from before she came into the room. Wherever Fred was, he was probably laughing and saying something along the lines of "It's about bloody time!" I couldn't agree more, Ron thought contently. Though their breathing had returned to normal, the two maintained their positions simply enjoying the closeness of the moment, until Hermione's yawn woke them from their thoughts.

"You seem awfully tired," he said with a cheeky tone.

"No thanks to you," she said, slightly muffled as she spoke into his chest trying to hide her blush. "I - I don't want to leave you," she said softly after a pause, "not after all that's happened."

Ron contemplated their surroundings. "Then stay down here with me. If I do recall, the sofa is pretty comfortable."

Hermione smiled and blushed deeper. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea." The two slowly made their way to the aged sofa they had lounged upon during happier times. On the floor by the fire were various textbooks and partially finished essays reminding them just how suddenly the battle had come and gone. By the way Hermione was studying the titles of the essays, Ron had a strong suspicion that, if given the chance, she'd probably correct them without a second thought.

"So . . . you want to finish their game?" Ron asked looking at a chessboard on a near by table, effectively pulling her attention from the unfinished homework to the situation at hand.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered exasperatedly.

Ron chuckled, "I take it that's a 'no' then?" She rolled her eyes and looked longingly at the couch. "Okay, okay," he said as he flopped down onto the sofa on his back. He patted bit of cushion between himself and the back of the sofa. Hermione moved to his reclining form. She felt herself blush crimson as she caught his eye while straddling his body to move to the spot he alluded to; both broke-out in nervous laughter.

She settled herself on her side resting her head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest; he wrapped his arms around her protectively and felt her relax against him. After a few short minutes, he noticed her breathing slow and her body grow heavier. "Mione, you awake?" he whispered. Upon getting no reply, he continued, "I'm sure you already figured it out by now, but um, I just wanted to say 'I love you'." Ron quickly drifted peacefully off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Molly Weasley woke to the sound of silence with a frown. After being married to Arthur for over twenty-five years, she had come to find the sound of snoring comforting. All she heard that morning - No wait, afternoon - was the sound of her daughter breathing softly in the bed beside hers. She frowned again. Where was her 'other daughter'? Hermione's bed was empty and cold, looking as if it hadn't been slept in for hours. Molly washed and dressed trying to think of where Hermione could be. She bent over Ginny and placed a kiss on her forehead and made her way to the common room.

Long shadows lined the floor and walls and the sound of gentle snoring filled the room. She walked quietly to the sofa to find her son and the woman he clearly loved sleeping serenely. Tears of joy escaped her eyes as she laid a quilt from a neighboring chair over the teenagers. She couldn't help but notice just how thin and pale the two had become since the wedding; she would have to do something about that as soon as they returned to the Burrow. Wiping the tears away, she made her way to the Great Hall smiling and thinking about how good a cup of strong coffee sounded.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hermione woke comfortable and warm; something that had been quite rare in the months since the beginning of their quest. Ron's scent was all around her, almost as enticing as his touch or kiss. The room was quiet save the sound of their breathing. How long has he been awake? She lifted her head to find him grinning broadly. "Evening, Sleepyhead."

"Good evening to you, too," she said biting back an uncharacteristic giggle. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long, I didn't want to wake you; I was afraid you might hex me or something. That and you look quite adorable when you sleep," he added with a smile, enjoying watching Hermione blush.

She was speechless for a moment, comprehending what Ron had said. "You know, I could still hex you."

"Yeah, I know, but your wand is on the table and you'd have to reach across me to get it," he replied, drawing her closer to him. "Besides, why would you want to hex me?" he asked in pseudo-innocence before pulling her into a soft kiss.

As they drew apart, she whispered, "Umm… what were we talking about?" They both laughed.

"We should really get going though," she said.

"I suppose you're right," he replied. The cocky grin was gone, replaced by a sad smile.

"Hey, we'll go down together, have breakfast - or dinner - and face whatever comes," she said staring at him fiercely. "I'll be there with you. We'll make it through, okay?" she whispered before hugging him tightly.

"Yeah," he said thickly.

As the two headed to their respective dorms, Hermione remembered something.

"Hey, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure you already know it, but I - I love you, too." With that, she ascended the staircase.

Ron stood there, staring at the spot Hermione had occupied just seconds ago, smiling broadly.