Ron knocked on George's door and Charlie opened it. "Hey," he said.

"Come in," Charlie said.

George was sitting on his bed. Charlie had been sitting in the desk chair. Ron looked at Fred's bed but remained standing. He wasn't sure why exactly, but it seemed wrong to sit there. "Look," he started. "I know you're upset. Everyone's upset and everyone has questions, but…"

"All three of you have to be ready to talk before you can talk," George finished for him.

"Yeah," Ron said, surprised.

"Harry told us," Charlie said.

"Good," Ron said, "but…you should probably know, I don't think Hermione is going to be ready to talk for a long time. Harry either, for that matter. They both…" He scratched at his stubble. "Well, some really bad things happened to them, but that doesn't mean they don't understand that other people made sacrifices too."

"I know," George said. "I just…sometimes…ah, I just lost it there for a minute. Seriously, I didn't mean anything by it. Is Hermione okay?"

Ron rubbed his jaw and shook his head. "No. I don't think she is, but she's trying to keep it together."

George sighed. "Aren't we all?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Hey, Ronnie," Charlie said. "You know we didn't mean anything the other night, right? With the haircuts."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I know. You were just taking the piss. I shouldn't be so thin-skinned."

"She's great, your girl, she really is," Charlie said.

Ron gave him a half smile, "You don't know the half of it."

George waggled his eyebrows at him.

Ron shook his head. "Wanker. I'm going to bed."

George and Charlie were laughing as he closed the door behind him, but as he walked upstairs to his room, Ron considered Charlie's words. He couldn't help wondering if Hermione really was his girl? He'd like to think she was, or would be, if he could get his head straight and manage ten minutes alone with her for a conversation, only he had no idea what he would say. Right now, he had no job, no prospects, no idea what he even wanted to do. Mostly, what he wanted to do was sleep. He considered getting some dreamless sleep draught from the potion cabinet. He knew his mother had kept it on hand since Ginny's first year at Hogwarts. Getting a dose would be simple enough, but what if something happened? He couldn't risk it.

xXx

Ron was tired the next day, having barely slept the night before. All night, he'd had vivid dreams about Hermione, some were erotic, some were terrifying, the worst were both. All of them woke him. He didn't even bother to look to see what funerals they were going to today. He just followed the other three and took Hermione's arm whenever it was time to go. He felt like his eyeballs were made of sandpaper or maybe it was his eyelids or possibly both. He had a headache. It was a tremendous relief when it was time to go to the fourth and last funeral of the day.

"Since it's in Hogsmeade," Hermione said. "Can you Apparate yourself? We can meet in front of Madam Puddifoot's." She looked completely drained.

"Yeah, sure," Ron said and raised his wand. When he landed, his left pinky was hurting. He looked down to see the fingernail missing. "Bloody hell," he muttered, although he felt like it could have been a lot worse. He was exhausted. He was lucky he hadn't left the whole finger behind. He stuck his pinky in his mouth and went to catch up to the others.

"What's wrong?" Hermione said, when he reached her.

"Lost the fingernail on my pinky," he said.

"Is it bleeding?" Ginny asked.

"Of course, it's bleeding," Ron said. Hermione pulled her wand and cast Episkey. The bleeding stopped but his pinkie still throbbed. She was fishing around in her beaded bag. A moment later she handed him a plaster and put a drop of Essence of Dittany on his nailbed. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"It'll take a few hours for the nail to regrow, best keep it covered until then," Hermione said.

The plaster was the size she used for the cut on her neck, so it was way too big for his pinky, but he wrapped it around the injured finger anyway. They took seats in the chairs set up by the graveside. There were fifty or so people milling about and beginning to take their seats. Ron noticed that a lot of people from Gryffindor house were there. He leaned over and whispered in Hermione's ear, "Who's funeral is this?"

She looked surprised. "Ron—"

That's when he saw Seamus, barely holding it together, standing next to Dean and an older couple, and he knew. "No," he gasped.

"Didn't you look at the schedule?" Hermione whispered.

The eulogy started. He wanted to run. He couldn't be there. He couldn't watch them put Lavender in the ground. Not Lav." Memories flooded his mind. That first kiss in the common room when he felt like the king of the world for winning the match. The way she snogged so openly and freely, like his mouth was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Hers were the first breasts he'd ever had his hands on, ever kissed. She was soft and sweet and so vivacious and pushy and annoying. She'd given him his first and only knob job and now she was dead. Lavender Brown was dead and the beast that killed her was still walking the earth. That same beast had scarred Bill and put his hands on Hermione and threatened to do unspeakable things to her, not the least of which was to rip her throat out with his teeth, which is exactly what he'd done to Lavender. Lavender Brown was dead! Ron couldn't breathe. He was hot but also cold. He started to sweat and felt nauseated. As everyone stood to begin the rose procession, Ron went in the opposite direction. He managed to make it behind a mausoleum before he lost his lunch. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beat his fists bloody against the side of the mausoleum. He wanted to kill Greyback. He wanted to tear to him to pieces with his bare hands, but instead he just slid to his knees and sobbed. At some point, he became aware of voices. Unable to face anyone, he drew his wand and Disapparated directly into his room at the burrow. He cast locking and silencing charms on the door and then proceeded to tear his room apart and scream every expletive he knew until his throat was raw and he'd emptied every drawer, the closet, and his school trunk. He'd ripped down every poster and upended every piece of furniture. When he was done, he went back to the cemetery.

The rose was exactly where he'd left it. The chairs were all gone, but the rose was on the ground where he'd been sitting. He picked it up and carried it to the grave. Seamus was sitting with his back to the headstone.

The Irishman looked up at him and shook his head. "Well, this is just bloody perfect," Seamus said. "Like I wanted to see the likes of you today."

"Sorry," Ron said. "I just…" He set the rose on top of the gravestone. "I'll go."

"Oh, yeah," Seamus said. "Hurry back to Hermione. Bully for you."

"Uh," Ron wasn't sure what to say.

Seamus' face was red and tear-streaked. "That's what you were always going to do anyway. I told her, you know. I told her she was wasting her time with you, but you know Lav, she got something into that thick skull of hers and there was just no dissuading her. And you," Seamus said getting to his feet and poking Ron hard in the chest. "You just went right along with it, didn't you? You bloody tosser. You just used her."

Ron shook his head. "I didn't mean to. I didn't…I'm sorry, Seamus."

"You of all people," Seamus said. "You of all bloody people should have known. She was my best mate, Ron," Seamus shouted at him. "My best bloody mate. Lav and Dean were my Harry and Hermione," Seamus said. "I saw what you went through when she was dating Krum. I commiserated with you. I was there for you and then you turned around…" His voice broke. "You Krummed me, Ron, you feckin' Krummed me."

Ron shook his head. "Seamus, I didn't—"

"Don't say you didn't know. You know you knew."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I was an absolute shit to both of you. I'm sorry. I wish I could take it back. I swear, if I could, I'd take it all back."

Seamus shook his head. "Can't. She's dead." He sobbed into his hands and sat back down. "She was so beautiful and fun. Always had a smile on her face, could make any day better by just walking in the room." He glared at Ron. "But you never really thought that, did you? She was just some girl with blonde hair and big baps that thought you were so cool. She was better than you. She was brave and kind. She was perfect."

"I know," Ron said and sat next to him. "I know." He wasn't sure how much time passed before Dean showed up.

"Hey," Dean said.

"Hey," Ron said.

"Seamus," Dean said. "Come on, mate. Your mum and dad are going spare." Seamus looked up at him and Dean held out his hand. "Let's get you home." Seamus took his hand and Dean pulled him to his feet. He looked at Ron. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Ron said. "Go on then." He sat there for a long time until it started to get dark. He walked to the Hogs Head Inn.

xXx

When Hermione, Harry, and Ginny arrived back at the Burrow, Molly was sitting in the kitchen.

"Is Ron back?" Ginny asked.

"Not yet," her mother answered.

Harry and Hermione exchanged anxious glances.

"I'm going to go get changed," Hermione said. Harry and Ginny agreed and they all trudged upstairs. A few minutes later, Harry came down and knocked on Ginny's door. Hermione opened it.

"Ron's door is locked and I'm pretty sure he Impreturbed it. There's no sound at all coming from the other side," Harry said.

"You think he Apparated right into his bedroom?" Ginny said, coming up behind Hermione.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It makes sense." He looked at Hermione. "What do you want to do?"

"Let's give him some time," she said. "He looked awful when he left. He didn't check the schedule this morning, so he didn't know it was Lavender's funeral."

"Oh no," Ginny said.

Harry looked at his watch. "Alright, let's give him a few hours to calm down."

xXx

A couple of hours later, everyone was sitting down to dinner. "Where's Ron this evening?" his father asked.

"In his room," Ginny answered. "He's not feeling well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," her father said. "How did everything go today?"

"Fine," Harry said. "But sad. One of our classmates from Gryffindor, Lavender Brown, was buried today."

"Oh," Molly said, putting a hand over her heart. "I'm so sorry."

"Us too," Hermione said.

"What year was she?" Molly asked.

"Ours," Hermione said. "She was one of my roommates."

"I'm so sorry," Arthur said.

"She was the first to show up for Dumbledore's Army," Harry said.

"Brave girl, then," Arthur said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "She was and well liked too. And a top student in Divination."

"And very pretty," Hermione said.

"So, Ron…" Arthur ventured.

"Is taking it hard," Hermione said. "They dated for a while sixth year."

"Oh?" Molly said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"It wasn't a big deal," Ginny hastened to add.

Hermione looked at her and let out a soft snort.

"Pass the potatoes, George," Arthur said. "Did anything else happen today?"

"Charlie and I are going out with Angelina and Lee tonight," George said.

"That sounds like fun," Arthur said. "Where are you going?"

"To see a band that's playing at the Leaky Cauldron," Charlie said. "Probably be a late night."

"Will you stay in London then?" Molly asked.

"Probably," George said. "Lee said we could crash at his."

After dinner, Ginny stayed to help her mother with the dishes while Harry and Hermione went upstairs to Ron's room.

"I say we've given him long enough," Harry said.

"I don't know. He has the right to some privacy."

Harry looked at his watch. "It's been hours."

"I've been gone all night before. It's hypocritical to force my way in."

Harry frowned at her. "Don't be ridiculous. If we'd known where you were, we'd have gone and gotten you straight away. He sat up all night staring at the Deluminator hoping you'd say his name."

"Fine," Hermione said, and drew her wand.

Harry took out his as well. "On three."

She nodded.

"One, two, three," Harry said and they both cast Alohomora. Ron's door burst in.

They stood wide-eyed as they took in the state of the room. There were clothes, shoes, chocolate frog cards, Quidditch equipment, books, and parchment everywhere. Ink was spilled on the rug. All the Cannons posters were torn off the wall. His lamp was broken. His bed and chest of drawers were overturned. Nothing was left in place.

"I wasn't expecting this," Harry said, stepping into the room. He lifted the chest of drawers and put it back against the wall.

Hermione picked up a pair of socks and put them in the bottom drawer.

"Bloody hell," Ginny said from the doorway. "What was he thinking?"

"And where the hell is he?" Harry asked.

"He's out," Hermione answered. "I'll clean up in here."

"We can help," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Mum will go spare if she sees this."

"So, you two go downstairs and keep her company," Hermione said. "I'll handle this."

"Don't you think we should—" Harry started.

"No," Hermione said. "He's a grown man. He's gone out for the evening. He's allowed."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. Harry sighed. "Alright, come down when you're done."

"Sure," Hermione said, trying to ignore the tight ball of anxiety forming in her stomach.

Harry gave her one last concerned look before following Ginny downstairs.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and then went to work. She put the furniture back in place and repaired the lamp using her wand, but she was tired, and didn't want to expend the energy on multiple cleaning charms, so she just started picking things up and putting them away. It didn't take as long as she'd initially thought. Ron didn't have a lot of clothes or shoes. She did cast Reparo on his posters and used her wand to siphon the ink off the rug. Picking up the chocolate frog cards was what took the longest.

xXx

Downstairs, in the parlor, Harry and Ginny were sitting on the sofa reading a Quidditch magazine together while her parents listened to the wireless. George and Charlie had already left for London.

"Where's Hermione?" Molly asked after a while.

"She had some stuff she wanted to organize," Ginny said.

"Has anyone talked to Ron?" Arthur said. "Perhaps I should go upstairs and check on him."

"Well—" Ginny started to say, when they all heard the Floo open in the kitchen followed by a crash and Ron letting out a string of slurred expletives. The four of them hurried into the kitchen to see Ron picking himself up off the floor.

"Why is that bloody table there?" he said crossly.

"It's been there your whole life," his mother said, equally crossly.

"Well," Ron sputtered. "That's a stupid place for it."

"Ron," his father said. "Are you drunk?"

Ron stood up straight and ran his hands over his funeral robes to straighten them. They were covered in a fine layer of Floo powder, which he'd clearly used way too much of. "Certainly not," he said.

"He's completely pissed," Ginny said.

"Where have you been?" his father asked.

"I was at a funeral," Ron said.

"That was over hours ago," Harry said.

"Right, but I went back because I forgot to put, well, I didn't forget, I didn't get a chance because I had to leave, but Lav deserved the rose so I went back to put it on the grave. Only Seamus was there."

"Oh, man," Harry said.

"He hates me."

"Ron," Harry said sympathetically.

"No, he does," Ron said, "Because I Krummed him. And I did too. I totally did. Actually, I worse than Krummed him because I knew. I knew how he felt about Lav, but went ahead and…because I'm giant bloody git."

"I don't understand," Arthur said. "What is 'crumbed?'"

Molly shook her head. "I don't know."

"Why did I do that?" Ron said. "Why? All I did was hurt everybody. That's all I ever do."

"No, it isn't," Ginny said. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. We can sort this out in the morning."

"Good idea," Harry said. They got on either side of Ron and began walking him to the stairs. "He just needs to sleep it off."

When they finally managed to get Ron up to the fifth floor, Hermione was setting his box of chocolate frog cards in his trunk.

"Hermione," Ron called from the door. "Look," he said stopping. "Your hair is free."

"What?" she said, touching her hair which was down and unbraided.

"It's not all," he waved his hands. "Twisty."

"He's trolleyed," Ginny said.

"I can see that," Hermione said frowning.

Ron pulled away from Harry and Ginny and stumbled over to her. "Seamus said I Krummed him and I did. I didn't…at the time…" He lifted one of her curls with his finger. "So springy," he said, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said.

Ron rubbed his face against Hermione's belly. "You smell so good."

"Ron," she said, trying to extricate herself from his grasp.

"Stay with me tonight," he said. "I'll do whatever you want. I just…please."

"Stop," she choked out.

Harry and Ginny were now on either side of Ron trying to get him off of her.

"Ron, let go," Ginny said, pulling on his arm.

"I need…" Ron moaned. "Please."

They were finally able to get him to release her and Hermione fled from the room. Ron collapsed on the floor. "I can't believe I was his Krum. What an awful thing to be."

Harry had to cast Mobilicorpus to get him into bed. Ginny took off his shoes and they let him sleep.

xXx

When Ginny got back to her room, Hermione was sitting in the window seat with her knees pulled up to her chin.

"Bloody hell," Ginny said, pulling the door closed behind her. "He's a mess."

"Yes," Hermione said.

"I'm glad Dad didn't help us get him upstairs, he was a bit grabby there at the end," Ginny said, pulling off her shirt and reaching for a gown.

"He's always wants me when he's drunk," she said. "It's pretty much the only time he wants me."

Ginny looked at her. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is," Hermione said.

"He wasn't drunk the night of the battle," Ginny countered.

"Might as well have been. Coming down off all that adrenaline, no sleep, exhausted and then a shot of Ogden's on top of all that. Come on."

"Wait a minute," Ginny said. "Are you serious? You don't really think that."

"Why not?" Hermione said. "It's true. Besides, you sent him down here, it's not as though he had the idea on his own."

Ginny shook her head. "He loves you."

"I know that," Hermione said, picking a piece of lint off the window seat cushion. "He just doesn't love me the way I love him."

"Bollocks," Ginny said.

"He never touches me," Hermione said.

"Yes, he does," Ginny said.

"Right, he takes my arm for me to Apparate him somewhere. If the chairs at a funeral are close together his shoulder might touch mine. And if I'm crying or upset in anyway, he'll hug me. That's it. You and Harry touch all the time. You kiss the top of his head, he holds your hand. He kisses you, goodnight. There's no mistaking that he loves you as more than just a friend."

"Hermione," Ginny said. "Ron just said he loves the way you smell. That's not something you say to a friend."

"Right, but he's drunk, and a bloke. Put a few drinks in them, and every guy loves the way you smell."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

Hermione blushed but shrugged it off.

"Okay," Ginny said. "I'll give you that, but—"

"You heard him say it," Hermione said.

"What?"

"'I'll do whatever you want,'" Hermione said. "He knows how I feel, but it's not how he feels."

"He's drunk," Ginny said. "You can't go by drunk talk."

"He's said it before," Hermione said. "It's awful. It's like he just wants to placate me."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't think he means it that way. There's so much going on with Fred and all these bloody funerals. No one has had time to take a breath. We all need a break."

Hermione let out a bitter laugh. "That's what he wants after the funerals. A break. And I stupidly said we could back it up, and now I don't know where we are, but it's nowhere good."

Ginny looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard, but I can't help but believe it will work out. You two are good together. You know that."

"I used to think so, now I don't know what I think."

"Because you're exhausted," Ginny said. "We all are. The whole house is. I'm telling you, it's just a few more days and then we'll have a normal summer, or as normal as we can make it. We'll swim in the pond, play Quidditch, read in the orchard, play cards, snog if we can find any privacy."

Hermione nodded. "That does sound nice."

"Right," Ginny said. "It will be. You'll see."

xXx

Hermione woke at two o'clock in the morning from a dream. Ron had been kissing her stomach, but then he'd turned into Greyback and bit her. She sat up in bed. Ginny was sleeping peacefully, so as quietly as she could, Hermione slipped out of the room and went downstairs. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea and sat down at the table to drink it. She thought about Ron. He was going to wake up with a massive hangover in the morning. He'd looked so stricken at the funeral when he realized it was Lavender they were burying.

Hermione sighed. She'd shared a room with Lavender for six years. They'd never been close, having completely different interests, and temperaments. She'd always thought of Lavender as shallow and frivolous, but she knew a lot of that was jealousy. Lavender was the kind of girl that went for what she wanted. She wasn't terribly introspective but she wasn't generally the critical type either. She was quick to laugh and enjoyed a party, but she wasn't stupid, and she did have principles, and she really was brave. They had somewhat predictably clashed over Professor Trelawny and Divination in general. Lavender thought the class was great, whereas it was the only class Hermione had ever walked out on. She was lucky she had the course load and got the grades she did or she would never have gotten away with that. Lavender got fairly good grades, well enough to stay through her N.E.W.T. year and a lot of people didn't. Hermione sighed, and she was now one of those people. She hated that. Had she lived, Lavender would have graduated with at least a couple of N.E.W.T.s, and based on some of the things Ginny had shared about the last year at Hogwarts, that couldn't have been easy. Hermione made herself another cup of tea and thought about sixth year. Up until then, she and Lavender had been civil if not exactly friends, but once she'd kissed Ron in the common room, that had all changed. At first, Hermione had been angry at Ron. Lavender's behavior was almost superfluous in the whole situation, but for some reason, the second she started dating Ron, Lavender had begun hating Hermione. She made digs at her whenever she could. Hermione was a 'know-it-all,' 'a posh bitch,' and 'thought she was so cool because she was from London.' Pretty much the only thing Lavender didn't comment on was her blood status. Hermione had taken the digs in her stride. She didn't care what Lavender thought about her, had never cared, but then Lavender had changed tactics, to something much more effective. Instead of commenting on Hermione, she began to comment on Ron. His hair was so fiery, his hands were so big, he was big all over (wink, wink). He was such a good kisser. He loved her hair, he kept commenting on how silky it felt, and he just couldn't get enough of her breasts. These comments hit Hermione every bit as hard as they were intended to. They were never said directly to her, but always within earshot. Each comment lodged under her skin and burned and burned and burned.

Now, Lavender was dead and Hermione was alive. It seemed an impossible outcome given the last year, but there it was. One dead, the other alive, but they had one thing in common. Ron. Hermione rubbed her temples. Had Lavender really loved him? For that matter, did she as more than a friend? Maybe she was just lonely and confused. She didn't know what to do next and Ron was familiar. Maybe he was having these same misgivings. Perhaps that was the source of the constant push/pull between them. She got up from the table and poured out the remainder of her tea. All this speculating wasn't getting her anywhere. The truth was she didn't know how she felt, so she could hardly fault him for not being sure of his feelings either. Maybe he was right, maybe they did need a break. She went to the potion cabinet and got a bottle of hangover potion and then grabbed a piece of scrap parchment out of the junk drawer in the kitchen. She scribbled 'drink me' on the parchment and took it and the potion upstairs to Ron's room.

His door was open and he was sprawled on his stomach across the bed with his feet hanging off the side. She set the bottle on his nightstand and put the piece of parchment in front of it. On impulse, she leaned over and softly kissed his ear. He smelled like a brewery. He mumbled something, but then settled back down.

She'd only been drunk a couple of times, always associated with the unique angst of a teenage witch stuck in the Muggle world and trying to fit in. Drunkenness didn't suit her. She enjoyed a nice buzz, but the out-of-control recklessness of being completely drunk, was too irresponsible to really be enjoyable. Besides, she hated the misery of a hangover, and in the Muggle world, there was no drinking a potion for instant relief. She ran her fingers through Ron's hair. What was it that made that fiery orange so appealing? She had an almost overwhelming urge to crawl in bed next to him. She sighed. She loved him as more than a friend. There was no point in denying it. She closed her eyes and blew out a long slow breath before going back downstairs.