carpe diem

Hermione sat by the lake, alone but not lonely. Her arms wrapped around her knees, she stared out into the water, vaguely wondering if the Giant Squid was still there. Or had it been killed by a misguided spell or explosion during the Battle? She had never liked the Giant Squid (she'd fallen into one of the main tanks at the aquarium when she was eight and had been terrified of squids, sharks, and other assorted sea creatures ever since), but it would still sadden her to think of it dead. It hadn't done anything wrong.

Around her, groups of people were milling about, laughing and embracing and crying. She'd been sitting outside for an hour now, and many of people she'd forgotten were her friends had stopped to say hello; Alicia and Katie had run by, calling something over their shoulders about following Leanne around on a date of some sort, Ernie MacMillan had given a firm handshake and pat on the back, and even Parvati had stopped to hug and cry a bit. She was absolutely positive that she hadn't been friends with Parvati before now, but life threatening situations seem to have that effect on people.

After Parvati had wandered away, going back to sit with Lavender, Hermione fiddled with her hair, breathing in the smells. Amazingly, the grass still smelled sweet and fresh and alive, despite all the people that must have burnt and trodden on it. It was reassuring.

And it also made her think of Ron. He was up somewhere in the castle, sitting with his mother. Hermione, when she'd decided to take a walk down to the lake, hadn't asked him to accompany her; not only did she need to clear her head, but he needed his family and his family needed him at the moment. Talking with Ron could wait. They would have forever to do so, anyway. Hermione blushed at the thought. Forever implied years and years of happiness and kissing and eventually getting married and having a family – oh, don't think about the future, she quickly reprimanded herself. Just enjoy now.

"Hey," said a voice behind her, making her jump. She turned around and put a hand over her eyes to smile at Ron, who was smiling sheepishly back at her.

"Hi," she said as he sat down next to her. She tried hard not to stare at his hand, which was centimeters away from her own.

And then neither of them said anything else. Which was ridiculous, because there was so much – so, so much – that she felt she needed to say, but none of it would come. She even opened her mouth, but the words seemed to shy away from the sun. What was not awkward a few nights ago, rather, was necessary, was most certainly awkward now.

Eventually, Ron cleared his throat. "Er – nice weather we're having?"

Hermione winced. "Has it really come to that?"

"No!" insisted Ron quite forcefully. "No, I just…." He trailed off lamely.

"It's weird," finished Hermione for him.

"In a way," agreed Ron. "But then again… not really, because we've… and then we…"

"Keep talking," said Hermione sarcastically. "You're making perfect sense."

They both laughed, quietly. No need to call attention to the fact that the two of them were obviously sitting out here as more than friends. Several journalists had shown up at Hogwarts last night, and although they'd all been quickly told to leave, no doubt some were lurking on the school grounds.

"It's just," began Ron again, once he'd stopped laughing, "I guess it's a bit odd, because in first year, I told my dad that you were the type that would probably die alone except for your twelve old lady cats –"

"Excuse me!" cried Hermione indignantly.

"But now – well, you know," blushed Ron. He'd never been sweeter. "I guess, well – stop making those faces, Hermione, you're not helping!"

"I'm not making a face!" protested Hermione, falling back and letting her head hit the grass as she started laughing again, Ron quickly joining in.

After a few moments of breathless laughing, Hermione sighed, sitting back up and running a hand through her hair. A beetle was crawling around on her leg, and she quickly brushed it off, thinking of a certain journalist who would no doubt be scheming her way into Hogwarts.

"You think Rita Skeeter's here?" asked Ron, following her train of thought.

"She's probably crawling around in the dirt by our feet as we speak," sighed Hermione.

Naturally, Ron quickly pulled his legs in, his eyes darting through the grass as he searched for the old cow. "Should I try to squash her?" he asked seriously.

Hermione hesitated, biting her lip – it was a very tempting offer – but finally shook her head. "Who cares what she writes?"

"The entire wizarding world, probably."

"Except for me," shrugged Hermione. "I might care tomorrow, but right now – oh, I don't know. Everything's too strange for me to think about the future. Carpe diem, you know?"

"I have no idea what that means," Ron told her. She stared at him.

"Really? Hmm, it must be only Muggles then. Let's see… Carpe Diem – it's means to just not worry about the future, you know, because tomorrow is going to come whether you make a big fuss about it or not, and you should just enjoy today because another one might not come like it. Or something like that," concluded Hermione, blushing. It didn't help that the wind was picking up now, blowing hair in her face.

"I like that," said Ron, smiling to himself. "Like my dad always used to say, 'They call it the present for a reason'. You know, because it's a gift. It's a play on words."

"I picked that up myself, actually," said Hermione dryly. A piece of hair blew into her mouth, and she made a frustrated noise. "Oh, I hate this! Sometimes, I just want to chop it all off."

"Hermione, relax," said Ron, clearly amused. "I got this." Gently, hesitantly, he reached out, brushing her hair out of her face. Everything seemed to slow down, stop entirely, except for Ron, who was moving towards her much too fast and yet still not quick enough.

It was a much different kiss than the other one. Still lovely, still kept her dizzy, but this one wasn't victory and passion inside a crumbling reality. This one was victory and passion with a hint of forever (to Hermione, it reminded her of the fragrant scent of orange blossoms). There's more of this to come, the kiss seemed to whisper as it embraced her.

Plus, this time she could hear the added sounds of wolf whistles and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean saying, "All right, Katie pay up – one Chocolate Frog, please." But Hermione didn't care.

Eventually (regrettably), their lips parted and they each pulled away – a few breaths away. "That," breathed Hermione after a few heartbeats, just loud enough for the two of them to hear, "was muchbetter than nice weather." It was shockingly risky, stunningly scandalous for her to say.

She could feel him smiling as he kissed her again.