Chapter 4

It went exactly as Hermione had said, of course. She's always right. Sending Fred off with friends and family was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but when I was called to speak, I thought of the right things. For once. I thought of the love that we all had for my brother, and of his bravery and wit. I reminded everyone who had showed up, which was at least half the bloody school, about he and George's fiery escape from Hogwarts. That made a handful of the people that were there chuckle, and that got the ball rolling. By the end of my speech, everyone seems genuinely amused, laughing openly. Even Mum has a trace of a smile.

I step down and walk back to my seat between Hermione and Ginny. As I sit, I can't stop the hot redness that stings my face when I look at Hermione's expression. She's red-faced and teary eyed, but smiling, and her intent gaze upon me is nothing short of amazing. I can't read women well, but I can tell that she is proud of me. That alone makes me the happiest I have been in a while. I wish I could show her how she makes me feel, but I risk making myself look like an idiot. I settle for wrapping my arm around her, and she leans against me naturally, as if she belonged there.

George is the last of us to speak, and the mood that I helped create is dimmed somewhat out of fear of what he would do. Much like during our conversation a couple of days ago, my brother looked like he had gone to Hell and back, not that I blame him one bit. Mum forced him to bathe, to the relief of most people within a couple of feet of him, and he did manage to wear some nice robes that I wouldn't have complained about owning. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, it sounds like the voice of a man a few decades older than his twenty years.

"My brother, Fred, was my best friend. My partner in crime. My twin. He was the greatest bloke that I have ever known. I've had him with me all of my life. Thus, I also know he was one of the most annoying people in existence." An appreciative chuckle ripples throughout the crowd. "But, he was a part of me. Completed me, you could say. Not in the wish-washy romantic shite way that you hear," George lets out a choked chuckle. Mum makes a noise in the back of her throat, but whether it is from grief or anger at the fact that George cursed at her son's funeral is hard to tell. "He was my other half, and he made so many other people happy. I knew Fred better than anyone, and when you leave today, please remember this: he would not have wanted you to suffer over him. Hell, he would want you to throw a party. The war is over, and he died a hero's death. It suits him to go out with a bang. If he had to go out, at least he took bloody Voldemort with him." A few people, myself included, yell out in agreement, although I can't stop myself from tearing up. George raised his wand toward the sky, and brilliant fireworks starting appearing in the darkening sky. "Here's to you, Fred."

Some of George's friends, including Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, raise their wands to add to the fireworks display. I really need George to teach me how to do that sometime. It's brilliant, and from what I can tell by the sobbing laughter of the woman beside me, it seems to be a crowd pleaser, which is definitely the way Fred would have wanted it to end. I can't say I'm happy - hell, I'm trying to wipe my eyes without getting noticed as we watch the skies, but things suddenly feel lighter now that we've had a chance to honor Fred and say our last goodbyes.

When George walks back down, Mum runs up to give him a big hug, sobbing on his shoulder. The rest of the ceremony passes uneventfully, with George sitting by Mum. At the end, he catches my eye and nods toward the house. Understanding, I yell, "Hey, you lot, there's a bunch of food in the house for anyone who wants a free dinner!" The crowd laughs, and a majority of them head back toward the house. Mum turns away, her face suddenly angry because of my less than tasteful invitation, but George gives me a thumbs up. Those strikingly familiar and normal gestures make me realize that everything will be okay. Eventually.

I turn to follow Hermione out of the aisle, grabbing her hand when I catch up before I slow to a stop. Harry and Ginny look back at us for a moment, but then slowly make their way back up to the house. I just need a moment. I stare up at the remains of the fireworks, that are little more than a grey smog that lightens the darkness of the night. She looks up at me. Her eyes are swollen from crying, her nose is red, and her lips are chapped from biting them nervously. Even now, she is nothing less than beautiful to me. I am thankful that I still have her, when I have lost so much. "Just… thanks, for everything. I couldn't have done any of that without you."

"You're welcome, but you did that all on your own, Ron. That funny, brilliant, heart-felt speech was all yours. I'm sure Fred would be so proud of you." Hermione looks up at me with that same expression as before, leaning closer into me. My heart leaps out of my chest, my palms get sweaty, and I feel like I'm that dirt-nosed kid on the Hogwarts Express all over again. "I know I am."

'Merlin, I love you,' I can't help but think. It's a thought that I've had before, but it wasn't until everything that had happened that put things into perspective. Going through a bunch of shite, especially losing people you love, makes good things really clear. I know I have loved Hermione Granger for years, but it wasn't until the end of this war that I could finally accept it with confidence. It scares the shite out of me to think about how she feels, but I know that we can finally move on, one way or another, by finding that out.

But I cannot bring myself to do that, not yet. Instead, I wrap my arms around her, placing my chin on the top of her head. I can see right above her into the house, where people are eating and chatting. The height difference always amused me in this way, but I don't mind it at all because I only notice it when I'm this close to her. She inhales deeply, and I look down at her, thinking that she may start crying again. Instead, she just blushes brightly - something I find incredibly adorable - and steps away.

"Let's head back inside, shall we?" She nods, and I lead her towards the house. The living room is full of delicious scents that instantly makes me ravenous. The mood of the room is surprisingly upbeat, considering the circumstances of the gathering. People are talking, drinking, laughing, and having a good time. Even George seems a lot more relaxed, talking to Angelina in the corner of the room.

Upon our entrance, we are immediately bombarded by Ginny. "So, what were you guys talking about?" It's clear to me that my dear baby sister has already had a few shots of fire whiskey in our brief absence.

"None of your bloody business," I grumble darkly, peeved at her inebriated state. I'm all for drinking, but not when my little sister is involved. She's still a light weight. "And slow down on the shots."

"Please, you are such a hypocrite! You're notorious for being smashed at family gatherings," Ginny giggles. Hermione raises an eyebrow at this, looking up at me inquisitively. I am spared from the lecture by the very substance the topic would have been on. Ginny grabs Hermione's arm. "C'mon Hermione, you should have a shot. It'd do you wonders!"

"Ginny, you know I don't drink," Hermione murmurs, but allows herself to be dragged away - or rather, drags Ginny away. Ginny is already having trouble walking straight at this point. Harry comes up as soon as they head into the kitchen, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Why'd you let her have fire whiskey shots, Harry?" I demand, irritated at my best mate's fun at my little sister's intoxicated state. "She's already out of sorts."

"You know better than I do that you can't tell Ginny not to do something," Harry replies, pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. Admittedly, that is true. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the drunk part of it is an act. She made a bet with me about how long it would take you two to admit your feelings to each other and get together. She's thinking it could be within the next 24 hours, what with that cozy conversation you two just had. I think she's trying to get Hermione a little tipsy to get her to open up so that she can win our bet."

"Barely home for a day and she's already scheming," I mutter at that, but then hone in on Harry's prior statement. "So, how long do you reckon it will take?"

Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What is this? No denial of feelings? Has the world come to an end as we know it?"

"Nah, we locked that shite down last week," I joke, and we both chuckle. It's nice to know that I can still find humor in something. "But nope, no denial. I mean, you saw us snog right in front of you, mate. Don't know if I could deny anything after that."

Harry grins at me. "I'm glad you finally admit it. Hermione wasn't as keen to when I asked her about it earlier." I feel like I was just punched in the stomach, my thoughts swirling in dozens of directions.

Maybe she isn't as sure about me as I am about her? Maybe she snogged me out of pity, thinking we were dead men walking? Apparently the clusterfuck of emotions I am experiencing is showing, for Harry is quick to add, "Not like that, mate! She's crazy about you too, from what I can tell. She just doesn't know how you feel, and if you kissed her for reasons other than 'romantic feeling'." I still am not completely convinced, but I can completely understand if that's true. Join the bloody club.

"Well, if that's the case, how long do you think? I'm curious," I prod. I am interested to hear Harry's view on the situation, seeing as he has known the two of us the longest. Maybe he will tell me that delaying telling her would be best, which I wouldn't mind if it means being denied humiliation.

"For the purposes of Ginny's bet? After 24 hours," He laughs, and I half-heartedly punch him in the arm. He mockingly winces at me, and his voice sobers a bit. "But really, it's all up to you guys. I think that once you gather up the courage, you both will hear exactly what you want to hear. You just have to get over that fear. After that, it's easy."

"Well, I don't want to make it too easy for Ginny. I want Hermione to be completely level headed when we talk about it, anyway. Let's go stop them," I suggest, walking towards the kitchen. "By the way, what will you get if you do win this bet?"

"Oh… I doubt that you would want to know," Harry mumbles, though his grin tells me everything that I need to know. Preventing him from winning that stupid bet may be all the incentive I need.

0000

"Ron, get out!"

I'm awoken by a shivering, angry Ginny around 2 that morning. From what I can tell, she had a little too much fire whiskey, and is now freezing her arse off because the fire is leaving her body. It's a symptom of a fire whisky "hang over", as Hermione called it in a prior lecture, and while it is less messy than vomiting, it still isn't fun by any means.

That being said, I have no pity for her right now. It's bloody early. "What do you mean? This is my room! What the bloody hell are you even doing in here?"

She ignores me, pulling off her shirt. "What the fuck, Ginny? Merlin!"

The commotion has woken Harry as well, although his unchecked, sleepy expression at seeing Ginny was far from my horrified state. I throw a pillow at the wanker. "That's my sister, Harry!"

Continuing stripping her clothes, although I could only assume from the sounds of the articles of clothing hitting the floor since I am staring at the ceiling, she tells me, "You know what Charlie says. It's best to have skin to skin contact when you have a fire whiskey overdose. I'm experiencing hypothermia right now, and it needs to stop." She climbs into bed with Harry. "And you need to leave."

"Why? This is MY room! Why do I have to leave? You guys go!" I demand, sitting up and throwing my legs off of the bed, intending on carrying the two out if need be. Let Mum find them.

"Because I am freezing, Ron, and I can't sleep half-naked with you in here. You should just go sleep in my bed," Ginny suggests. Although it is very dim in the room, I could have sworn I just saw her wink at me. Is this all just part of her plan? "I'm sure Hermione wouldn't mind if she noticed."
I am both enraged by the intrusion on Ginny's part, and suddenly nervous at the thought of sleeping near Hermione. During the war, we had slept in the same tent together when Harry had guard duty, but when I had randy thoughts, I always felt guilty about them. Now, it's just like being invited into the girl's dormitory at Hogwarts. Limitless possibilities.

"Fine Ginny, but you're daft if you don't think I'm telling Mum about this in the morning," I threaten, allowing the excuse to sleep near Hermione. Ginny just snorts in response.

"Night, mate," Harry mumbles, a huge sleepy grin on his face as his arm wraps around my nearly naked sister… I may have to murder my best mate yet, though the thought is quickly forgotten as I make the short trip down the hall to Ginny's room. The door was left open and I can see Hermione twist and turn in her bed. I can tell her dreams aren't pleasant, for she always slept like this while we were on the run. She could never sleep peacefully when we could be killed at any turn.

I close the door behind me, torn between holding her hand in an attempt to pacify her, as I sometimes did during the war, and going straight to bed as to not draw attention to myself. I decide on the latter, tip-toeing to Ginny's bed on the other side of the room.

Less than ten minutes later, I am drifting off to sleep when I hear her murmur, "No… please, no!"

That took any thought of sleep out of my head. After tripping on the sheets tangled between my legs, I rush to her side, getting on my knees to kneel beside her bed. I am desperate for a solution to this problem. She continues to moan terrible things, and I am tempted to wake her.
Right as I am about to shake her awake, one of her cries cuts through the incoherence. "No, no… Ron, no!" I freeze immediately. Did I just hear my name? Am I… hurting her in this dream? My heart sinks. I would never dream of hurting her, both literally and figuratively. Would waking her only scare her more? She continues to moan, and I can't take it. Even if it only makes things worse, I have to put her out of the agony in her mind, even if I'm the one causing it in her dream.

I gently shake her shoulder, trying to coax her awake without startling her. "Hermione, wake up… Hermione, it's only a dream, wake up." She wakes with a start, gasping and tears streaming down her cheeks. I want to brush them away, but if I was the one causing that fear, I doubt it would be appreciated. I settle for asking her, flatly, "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine… Thank you," Hermione finally says, her expression haunted as she stares directly ahead.

"Well, look, whatever it is, I'm sorry," I mutter, before returning to my side of the room. "Ginny is with Harry, otherwise I wouldn't be in here."
Hermione doesn't respond, so I return back to bed. A few minutes pass before I start hearing her sob. I'm so torn. I don't know if I should talk to her. I fear it may only make it worse. I just listen her cry for a few more moments. It's agony, knowing she is crying, probably because of me, and being unable to do anything about it. I feel utterly worthless. Why did I think she could ever like me? I should have just-

"W-why are you being so insensitive?" She asks sharply, her glare softened by tears.

I am very confused, though the accusation causes me to rile up a little. "Hermione, whatever happened in the dream, I didn't do it!"

She pulls her legs up to chest and holds them to herself. "What are you t-talking about?"

"I heard you tell me 'no' in your dream. Wasn't I hurting you? I would never hurt you, Hermione. Never," I assure her as I swing my legs over the side of the bed to face her.

"I know you wouldn't! Oh, Ron," she cries, burrowing her face in her knees. Her words are muffled. "I just keep having the same dream. Back at the m-manor."

That certainly clears up a lot, and I feel overwhelming remorse. I return to her side, sitting beside her on the bed. She leans over and sobs into my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

She mumbles, "That's not even the worst part. I can handle them torturing me. I've lived that." She swallows loudly, breathing in and out erratically. I wrap my arms around her, rubbing her sides.

"What is? Unless you don't want to talk about it," I add at the end. I am just so relieved that I was not hurting her in the dream. I don't want to press it.

She hesitates before saying, barely above a whisper, "I lose. They torture you, they kill you, and I lose you. I can't bare losing you, not again, not ever."

I am completely filled with an indescribable feeling. On one hand, I hate how distressed she is. On the other, I am so… relieved, knowing that those tears were over my loss. I had seen her cry over Harry so many times, but unless I was being a git, she never worried over losing me. At least, I thought she didn't. But apparently I was wrong, and as selfish as it is, I couldn't be more glad for it.

"Never, Hermione. You'll never lose me," I admit solemnly. I hold her tighter, and force myself into saying what I do next. "Hermione, what I wanted to tell you earlier at Hogwarts, that you told me to wait to tell you… I don't want to wait anymore. I'll never leave you, because I would never want to leave you. I would always be with you, if you would have me."

The words sound stupid and awkward, but they're out there. I am very still, quite scared of what she is going to say. Her sobs silence, and she looks at me. I refuse to meet her gaze. "Ron, look at me." I do as she asks, however reluctantly. "I want to be with you… That's all I've wanted for quite some time."

I'm bloody terrified to believe what I am hearing, though my heart beats frantically in a desperate need to do just that. "So, you want to be with me? As in, together?"

Hermione lets out a small, shuddering laugh at that, as if the question were silly. "So much."

My immediate reaction is to completely devour her, to kiss and touch things I have never touched, and to make her feel things that I have only dreamed of making her feel. But I've gone through that path before, with another girl. I have no intention of treating things with Hermione like I did with any other girl. Hermione is it, for me. I have to treat her like that.

So, I do the single thing that I have craved ever since I knew I was in love with her. I take her beautiful face in my calloused hands, and give her the most gentle kiss I could manage, my lips lightly brushing over her's. Of course, just because I have noble intentions doesn't mean I can sustain them. She wraps her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss, pressing her soft curves against the flat plain of my chest. Despite my deep desire not to, I move my hands respectably to her sides. I almost lose control when I feel her pink tongue briefly flicker out to taste me, and I am not sure why I'm surprised. Leave it to Hermione to be experimental, not that I mind in the slightest. After a long moment, I pull away, only to kiss her all over, from her jaw-line to her cheeks and nose and finally to her forehead.

Hermione sighs contentedly, her breath tickling my neck. "So, I guess Ginny won the bet? She told me all about it when she was in her happy state of intoxication."

I place one more kiss on her forehead before looking down at her. "I wouldn't have it any other way."