The celebration didn't die down until the early hours of morning. It was midnight when Harry found Ginny sobbing outside the castle. Her head was buried between her legs, and her back rose and fell; a tell-tale sign that she was crying. Her hair and clothes were soaked with tears.

Harry crouched down next to her, laying his hand on the small of her back.

"F-F-Fred!" Ginny sobbed, revealing her face to Harry. Tears streamed continuously down her squinty face, and Harry could feel the dampness in his own eyes.

Without saying a word, Harry pulled Ginny close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist, and leaned back into the bare ground. The couple lay entwined together for hours, until finally they had cried themselves to sleep.

*********************************************

Mourning for the lost ones could happen the following day; for that moment, they were only going to be grateful for the end of it all.

Many of the survivors had congregated in the Gryffindor common room for a party. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron and Hermione all sat around one of the tables closest to the crackling fire; talking, laughing, singing, and celebrating the end of war.

"I love you" Ron whispered into Hermione's ear with a wide grin on his face. She blushed and winked back at him with an equally wide grin on her face.

"To Harry!" Ron bellowed, lifting his glass of butterbeer and wrapping his arm around Hermione's waist.

"To Harry!" the entire common room shouted back at him. The Weasleys all let out a laugh.

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Bill asked, nearly shouting over the noise of the common room.

"Probably in a snogfest with Ginny somewhere" Ron shouted back without caring if his words were true. Nothing was going to ruin his perfect moment. The war was finally over, he was finally with Hermione, and his best friend in the world had survived the wrath of Voldemort. Ronald Bilius Weasley could not possibly be more grateful.

*********************************************

Ron opened his eyes to find that he had fallen asleep on a chair in the Gryffindor common room. His arms were wrapped firmly around Hermione, who was pressed against his chest, half- asleep. Ron took a moment to savor the contours of her body against his: her small, smooth hand entwined in his, her delicate waist in his arms, and the natural smell of her hair, so close to his nose. She can't possibly love me as much as I love her.

"Uuugh" Hermione sighed, startling Ron, whose ears were turning red at the intrusion on his thoughts, but Hermione only flashed a tired smile at him, stretching her arms.

Ron mentally debated whether it would be romantic or not to pull Hermione to her feet, but before he could come to a decision, she had gotten to her feet herself.

"I'm starving. Want to go down to the Great Hall and grab some breakfast?" he asked.

"Um, Ron..."

"Yeah?"

"I highly doubt anyone will be making breakfast, there was a battle last night." Hermione said pointedly.

"Oh. I know" Ron said, deflated.

Duh, Ron. This isn't school. We just fought a war. You're such an idiot.

At the thought of the war, memories of the night before forced their way back into his head. Images of Fred's lifeless body, stacked among others like an unimportant object flooded Ron's thoughts. Fred. Fred is dead. He wouldn't come walking in any minute with George, cracking some joke about Ron and Hermione. He never even would get to find out about their kiss.

Ron would have given anything at that moment to hear Fred's mocking voice, to be embarrassed at a joke from Fred. "Ickle Ronniekins finally's got a girlfriend." The words echoed through his head, making him feel like a thunderstorm was rolling over his brain. Ron collapsed to the floor, letting all the tears welled up inside come falling down his cheeks in a steady stream.

"F-F-Fred" Ron cried out, covering his face with his hands. He wanted so badly for Hermione to think he was strong, that he could silently bare the torment, but how could she? He was crying.
Distantly, he heard Hermione's soothing voice and felt a warm, soothing hand against his back.

"Ron" said Hermione.

"Ron" she repeated. At a loss for what to say, Hermione simply leaned into Ron's shuddering body, entangling her hand in his and letting a few tears of her own fall from her nose onto Ron's t-shirt. She just stayed there, crying, knowing that there was nothing she could do to ease his sorrow. For months more he would be in a quagmire of solemn despair, and even after that, even years later, he would still bare the scar upon his mind, just as real as Harry's given to him at birth by the now deceased Voldemort.