Chapter Two: Together

It hadn't seemed long; it hadn't seemed long at all. One moment he was watching his best mate's limp body and the next it was all over. All the years of fighting against a once faceless evil had come to an end. They had all stood in awe. Not one of them could truly comprehend what had occurred. It wasn't until the first shout of joy erupted that Ron had understood the reality of their situation. Years of hopes and dreams, fears and struggles had finally come to fruition. Voldemort was dead, yes Voldemort was dead. No more taboo, no more snatchers, he could speak that name without the fear of being captured or even the recognition of the inbred terror which that name concealed. Shadows no longer loomed at the corners of wizard existence.

Grief so grasped his body that before long the scene had vanished and he found himself lying awake in bed with no recollection of how he came to be there. For hours he had drifted in and out of sleep, nightmares plaguing his dreams. His stomach tossed and turned in twists of guilt. The only calm he could find amongst the dark was the slow breathe of the petite figure in the next bed. She was alive. He had glanced upon her slumbering body whenever he stirred awake, his heartbeat would steady immediately. He had found this cure for his ever racing heart many months ago somewhere deep in the brush of an untouched wood. If he could look over, even if only for a moment, and see the subtle rise and fall of her chest, he knew that in that instant things were at peace.

Ron, once again, turned his eyes to the deep red color of the canopy far above his bed and felt sleep take him once more. He was wakened mere hours later by the ruffling sound of dense fabric. He kept still, expecting something far worse than what he found. He heard the soft padding of her feet slipping across the worn wooden floors. He allowed his eyes to open just wide enough to watch as Hermione walked through the dormitory door. He had followed her, found her, and told her something he had only just told himself.

Ron laid in bed watching as his mind shifted over his memories of the night before. He saw each terrible moment in vivid clarity. His brother fell, a thousand times, before his eyes. He smelt the flames in the air. He heard the screams erupting through the dark; short piercing screams, long drawn out screams twisted with gasps of horror, and one scream that had haunted him from the moment he'd first heard it. His eyes pulled apart, letting in the new born sun. He could still see it, the way she looked that night, laying at Bellatrix's feet. He could remember that desperate need to pick her and hold her close, to tell her that he would protect her no matter what.

He rolled on to his side trying desperately to forget those thoughts. He starred about the familiar room his eyes tracing ever nostalgic inch. The rusted over dent where Dean had slammed his favorite boot on the old blacken heater, gleamed happily. The infamously squeaky floor board sat quietly just beyond what was once Seamus' bed. Even the cracked window he had caused 4th year with one of Zonko's toys seemed well rested this morning, giving no clue as to the horrors they had seen, not only in the night before last but in the past year as well. The walls, on the other hand, told a different story. The barren hooks and forgotten pins laced with ripped strips of paper, reminded of the posters and decorations which had once filled the room. No longer did the faces of Krum and other famous seekers and keepers, beaters and chasers smile down at him in those perfectly fake grins. Neville's bed sat alone in the first morning's light, no longer adorned with odd-looking plants or piled high with books of strange tittles. Childhood seemed so long ago now, when mere months ago it has seemed so absolute.

Harry made a slurping noise from his bed a crossed from Ron's feet. He knew he'd be waking up soon, judging from the tarnished old alarm clock, perched at its usual station above Seamus' bed, he'd been asleep for a little more than 24 hours now. He shifted his attention to the bed just a few feet to his left. He watched the head of messy brown curls turn slightly allowing the sun to illuminate her soft features. A gentle sigh escaped her pink lips just as her eyes began to flutter awake. For a moment she looked confused, scared even. Her eyes wandered as she undoubtedly tried to recall the movements which had brought her here. An expression of realization passed over her and she lay still. Ron silently pleaded God or whoever was listening for the right words. Please, he thought, I know she's too perfect for a chump like me but I just can't lose her, okay?... Oh and Fred, where ever you are you 'ad better be raising some serious hell. He added remembering, with a desperate pang of grief, all he had lost.

Looking back, Ron had made a great number of mistakes. He had said and did and acted in ways he knew he shouldn't have. He understood that he had hurt people. But there, in that aged old room, he could look upon the face of the one he had hurt the most. She had taken all in stride; it was just who she was, but this last time he had gone too far, he had cut too deep. He knew that he would be spending the rest of his life trying desperately to heal those wounds.

Ron's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the muffed sound of footsteps racing up the stairwell. They came to a creaking stop just beyond the dormitory door where they were soon met by a second, more weighted pair of footsteps. At first it sounded as though both had simply disappeared for no sound displayed to the contrary. Then came the unmistakable sound of hushed voices in harsh argument which was broken suddenly when one set of footsteps retreated slightly back down the stairwell with a final gawk in a disapproving tone which even the walls could not disguise as belonging to anyone other than Mrs. Weasley. Ron lifted his head in recognition of his mother's voice. Suddenly the door sprang forth, bringing with it a rush of cold air. In the door way stood the silhouette of Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley clan. It was clear that she had taken the time to clean up. Her long red hair hung in nearly dry rows down her back and the dirt that had streaked her face the night before had disappeared.

She stood there for a moment, eyes glazed over with shock. She stepped forward and then back again as if not sure of her surrounding s. she finally made eye contact, looking across the room to Hermione. The warmth in her expression seemed to break her out of some kind of trance and she spun so quickly that she nearly hit her head on the door frame. But just before she had made her way back onto the stairwell, there came a groggy voice from the bed across from Ron's.

"Ginny?" Harry asked.

It was clear that Harry had only just woken up and had not heard Ginny come in. Ginny turn back around to look at him with the expression of a child caught stealing from the cookie jar plastered across her face. Harry shifted about his dresser, finding his glasses and jamming them on his face.

"Ginny." he almost sighed.

She stared at him, lips trembling, eyes gaping. In an instant she was kneeling at the side of his bed burying her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as muffed sobs escaped her lips. Ron had never seen his little sister like this, she was always so strong. He didn't exactly like the way harry was holding her so close or how his hands were entwined with her hair but he knew she needed him, as much as it pained him. The two pulled apart.

"I was so scared" She whispered as she tried to wipe away the tears from her puffy red cheeks. "For all of you." She said looking around the room. "This year's been so awful, not knowing where you all are…"

"I know, Ginny. It's been rough for us too, trust me" said Hermione, her voice breaking slightly.

"What happened the night of the battle? What's been happen for the past months?" asked Ginny with a sniffle. "Please, I can't take not knowing, anymore" she added.

Before long they were curled up on Harry's bed explaining everything from Horcruxes to Hallows. Ginny never faltered, she followed each word taking them in. Harry gently glided over Ron's disappearance without a mention. But when it came time for Ron to tell of Malfoy Manor he hesitated his body visibly tensing. Hermione picked it up without missing a beat.

"They kept us in the basement, but we could still hear them arguing so we decided to say the sword was a fake." She had said, staring down at the familiar red bed spread

When the explanations had run out and the story had come to an end the four sat in silence, Harry, Ron, and Hermione's eyes glued to Ginny's. Ginny seemed as though her thoughts had gone blank, she gazed into empty space for a moment, her face expressionless.

"Well… I'm glad I didn't miss anything too important" she said with a smile and a contagious laugh.

They sat there for a while smiling and laughing and realizing just how much they'd missed one another. Harry leaned over and gently placed his lips to Ginny's temple while Ron cringed. Noticing, Hermione placed a hand over Ron's and squeezed it lightly.

"So…" Began Ginny "On to more important business"

"Like what?" asked Harry

"Like, what's going on with you two?" she said with a smug grin, indicating towards Ron and Hermione.

They both Froze.