Chapter 4-

Ron reached out to stroke the slowly healing scars on her back. Hermione shuddered at his touch, and moved away.

"Ron, you don't understand. I can't…I can't take feeling this way right now. I just barely got out of there alive."

Ron sat back on his knees for a moment, and stared at her thoughtfully. She seemed…older now. But then again, everyone was older, now that the War had finally passed over. There had been so many lives lost, and so many more than that ruined. It seemed unfair, as though someone who fought as bravely as Hermione had, and gone through the hell that she had, would resurface into the real world with less emotional wounds than this.

"Ron…I want you to take these back," Hermione said, handing over the Sickles he had used to pay for her earlier. "I'd hate to think that the first time we were together happened only because you paid for me."

The first time! That meant that there had to be another time…and that meant…he shook his head, determined not to think of those thoughts at the present time. Ron closed his hand over hers and said, "Consider it a present…to starting over new."

Hermione wiped at her eyes, and took the money back. "Thank you."

There was a pregnant pause, and Ron looked around the messy apartment. The mess, the smell…the lack of anything bright and beautiful, seemed so unlike the girl he had gone to school with. It was then that he remembered the scrapbook that he had seen on her bed earlier.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"What's in that scrapbook you have?"

Hermione blushed, and began fussing with her hair. "It's nothing."

Ron attempted to take Hermione's hand, which she shook off. "C'mon, Hermione! It can't be that bad."

Without waiting for a response, Ron got up off the bed and went to where the scrapbook was sitting on the coffee table. Hermione, done protesting, sat on the bed, nervously rearranging her hair. Ron picked up the beaten-up looking book, and sat down cross-legged on the floor. Slowly, not wanting to tear anything out, Ron opened up the book. At first glance, it looked as though there were just old, yellowed pieces of paper inside. However, upon looking further, Ron realized what it was- pictures and newspaper clippings…all about him. Some pictures were from their school days- he, Hermione, and Harry looking equally cheerful in every one. Ron blinked his eyes furiously as the memory of those times hit him straight in his heart. Every so often, Hermione had pasted in an old note from him, asking for her help in class. As Ron turned the pages the pictures and memories of happy days slowly turned into articles from the Daily Prophet. One was about Mr. Weasley's capture of Professor Snape. One showed Ginny and the twins standing witness at Snape's trial, each verifying that they were there the night Snape killed Dumbledore. However, Ron let the tears flow when he came to a page filled with obituaries. There on the page were the faces of his mother, father, and three of his brothers staring back at him. There was also an article about the night the Burrow had been attacked by forces led by Draco Malfoy. Inadvertently, Ron sniffed.

"Ron? Oh Ron, there was a reason I told you not to look in there…" Hermione cried, trying to hold back her own tears. "I just…"

She ran over to him, and cradled him in her arms from behind. "I just…I was so afraid you were dead! I needed to know…I needed to know whether there was any point in trying to find you! When I heard about the battle at the Burrow, my heart damn near broke! I…"

Ron said softly. "Ginny, the twins, and I weren't there that night. We were with Harry and Neville…we didn't hear about the attack until it was too late. When we all got there, all that was left was destruction. Malfoy had even taken the bodies of my family…I never got to say goodbye."

He turned and faced Hermione. "So…why did you keep all of these…"

Hermione took Ron's face in her hands. "Because every time I began to doubt that you had survived, all I had to do was look in here…it made me remember that though maybe I couldn't prove you were alive, I had no evidence that you weren't. It kept me going, believing that maybe you were alive. Besides…if you were dead, those mementos that you saw in the beginning would be all that I had left of you."

Ron started, "But Hermione, why…"

"Oh Ron…it's simple to understand, even for you," Hermione said softly. "I love you."

Ron started. "You…"

"I love you. I've loved you for years…and when you told me before, I was so convinced that I was dreaming that I didn't know what to say. I couldn't bear the thought of waking up and realizing you weren't there…I've dreamed the same dream so many times, that I thought maybe this was a dream too. But Ron- I've loved you since…since the day we were at Dumbledore's funeral. You sat there with me; you held me and stroked my hair. It was than that I knew- before, where it was just a crush on a hopeless redhead I'd known forever…it was now love for the boy who was forced to become a man."

Hermione stood up and offered her hand to Ron. As she pulled him up with her, she said, "I don't know much anymore…nothing makes any sense. But now that I've found you again, I do know one thing:"

Ron tried to hide the smile that was forcing its way to his face. "And what's that?"

"That I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

With those words, Hermione pulled Ron back into bed with her. It was there that slowly, sweetly, they made love- and this time, when Ron felt himself about to let go inside of her, he let forth all the unbridled passion, hope, and love that both had been looking for, and had only just found.