Hermione cried quietly all the way through town, back to the beach. Ron kept his arm around her shoulders at all times, subtly glowering at all the staring or smirking passers-by. It frustrated him that people were giving them looks as if to say "lover's tiff?" when in actual fact, they'd both faced more in one year that anyone else would endure in their entire life. They'd been braver and stronger than any of these people, but now they'd always wear their battle scars.

Particularly Hermione.

One arm around his waist, her free hand at her mouth as she bit into her thumb to stop herself from sobbing aloud. It was no way for a girl to leave a reunion with her parents. He watched her carefully, keeping his arm a safe distance away from the waistband of her jeans. He loved her unconditionally, but he and Harry both knew that an emotional Hermione was a dangerous one.

By the time they reached the tent, her tears were dry and shiny on her face. Ron's arm and side went cold as she left him in search of tissues. He sat down on the bed, forcing back a smile at their fucking fantastic morning. Why had everything turned to shit so easily?

"Hermione?" he called, when she didn't reappear from the bathroom. "Everything alright?"

"Mmm..." she mumbled, sounding tearful again. He bounded off the bed towards the bathroom curtain and wrenched it open.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, scrunching a tissue up in her hand as she stared at him wide-eyed. "I could've been going for a shower!"

"But you weren't."

"I could've been!"

"You weren't, you were crying."

"I could've been peeing!"

"You'd have warned me."

"I could've been indecent!" she blushed as she said the word.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before..." he couldn't resist waggling his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and barged past him into the main space. She quickly tugged the zip of the entrance, darkening the tent to a dull yellow hue. She wore a haughty pout, but when she sat on the bed, Ron saw her shoulders sag in a way that made her look utterly helpless.

He wondered over, slowly this time, wary that the Hermione's fury furnace was rarely cold.

"Hermione?" he asked cautiously.

He heard her sigh. "Yes?"

There was no point to asking whether she was okay. "Can I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the spot on the bed beside her.

She smiled weakly. "No, you have to sit on the floor until I'm emotionally stable."

Ron smiled, but did not sit down. "What was that? Hermione Granger making a joke about herself?"

"Don't get used to it. I might snap and lunge for your throat."

Ron laughed nervously. That's exactly what he was afraid of. But had he really been that transparent over the years? Had his jokes about her stormy hormones taken their toll on her?

"You're acting as though I'm a sleeping lion, Ron."

Ron shrugged. "You're upset." It didn't sound like the right thing to say...

She frowned. "I'm not going to attack you."

"I know!" he said quickly. "I just... don't want to do anything to upset you further."

She clearly did not believe him. Another tear escaped. Her head twitched away from him, before she gave up and slumped backwards with a defeatist sob. She lay on the bed, damp eyes closed, making a conscious effort to breathe slowly.

It was then that Ron sat on the bed. She didn't react to the bed's creaking as he lowered himself down, but her controlled breathing stopped when he put a warm hand on her knee.

She looked up at him without any signs of warning or accusation.

"Please don't cry," he said.

Her face contorted, as she fought back more tears.

Despite the pain her heart-ache was causing him, he chuckled. "Must you always be so contrary?" he asked with a grin. She managed a small laugh, causing him to smile even wider.

Not even attempting to restrain himself, he slid forward and joined her in lying down. To his delight, she instinctively curled over to face him.

Her face was inches away from his, and he could see each tear streak on her face and each dark damp eyelash. He observed these tiny details not realising she was gazing right at him.

"Ah! Er, hello!" he spluttered stupidly, causing her to laugh.

"Hello there," she replied, smiling properly.

"I was so engaged in watching you that I wasn't actually watching you."

She shrugged. "I understand."

"That's good then."

"It is."

They both filled the silence with contented sighs before the topic in hand came up again. Hermione's smile disappeared as she draped an arm over his waist. "What did you think of my parents, Ron?" she asked. It didn't sound like small talk.

"Your Dad's nice," he said honestly. "He's funny. He seems like a good Dad."

"And Mum?" she asked, as though she hadn't cared about his thoughts on her father.

Ron swallowed nervously. "I didn't really get to know her. She..."

"stormed off, yes..." Hermione finished for him. When she said nothing more, he craned his neck forward to kiss her forehead. When he pulled back, she looked to be calculating something difficult.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Didn't you think... didn't you think she was... a bit like me?"

Confused, Ron pulled himself up to rest on one elbow, wrapping another arm around her waist. "Like I said, I didn't really get to meet her properly..."

Hermione swallowed. "She's got a nasty temper."

Ron shrugged. "What are you getting at, Hermione?"

Hermione looked embarrassed. "You're nothing like your parents."

"... that doesn't help either."

Hermione huffed and sat up, her hair bunching at her shoulders and framing her face. Ron didn't dare to say it aloud, but she looked sexy...

"I don't want you to think that I'm like my mother, because I'm not. I'd hate it if you made assumptions about me based on her."

"Whoa, whoa..." interjected Ron, sitting bolt upright now. "Who said anything about making assumptions? I already know you Hermione, I don't need to figure stuff out about you based on your parents!"

She still looked uncertain. "Okay..."

"Hermione..."

She looked straight at him.

"...what is this all about?"

He almost regretted asking, but it was important. She looked down, looking almost as upset as she'd done when she'd first wiped her parents' memories.

"It's pathetic and... and I already know what you're going to say..." she began quietly. "... and please don't think that I'm needy and desperate..."

"Hermione, just say it!"

She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly awash with fear, as though a Death Eater stood behind him. "My Dad could have left Mum years ago. He wanted to. They weren't good together... but she scared him into staying, and until I restored their memories, he was the most miserable man alive..."

Ron listened attentively, not quite believing what he thought he was hearing...

She put her hands on his shoulders. "I love my Mum and she loves me back. I have some really happy memories of growing up but there were times when... when she just... snapped."

He was hearing it. She was saying this.

"I know I'm barmy and flappable and sometimes I can be a bit of a dragon but please believe me... I'm not like her. She has problems. Sometimes she's cruel..." her eyes brimmed with tears again. "I won't make you miserable, Ron."

Stunned, he pulled her into a hug. She squeezed tightly, as though he were dangling her off a cliff.

"You are completely mental if you think I'd be sitting here with you if you scared me."

"You and Harry have always thought I'm scary," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I do keep snapping at you."

"You've spent too much time around boys, I reckon," he chuckled. "And there's a difference between snapping and erupting into a storm of fiery rage, Hermione," he said, recalling Mrs Granger's outburst. He shuddered. "Sorry..." he muttered guiltily.

"Don't apologize," said Hermione earnestly, still nuzzling his neck and shoulder. "I imagine she's quite alarming for a first-time witness."

Ron laughed. "Seriously though, Hermione," he began again, soothingly rubbing her back. "You know me. Am I really the sort of person who would stay in a relationship even if I hated it?"

Hermione pulled back and gave him a pointed look. "Lavender..?"

"That was different," he said quickly. "I was horny, jealous and desperate. I'm a grown man now, and only one of those things still applies to me."

She laughed.

but then he took her face in his hands without any warning. Gently. He looked her straight in the eye and communicated every affectionate feeling he'd ever had for her into his gaze. "I can't fall out of love with you, Hermione. I've already tried ignoring it, back when I was with Lavender, but I can't do it... and now that you love me back, it doesn't hurt anymore. It feels quite nice, actually, being in love with someone who loves you..." he expected her to laugh, but she watched him, silently pleading with him to finish. "... and when we're your parents' age, I'll still be in love with you and our marriage will be happier than your parents'"

When he saw her eyes widen, he was sure he'd put his foot in it, but as a look of utter adoration spread across her face, his confidence grew. This was Hermione, his girlfriend, soul mate, one true love and every other gushy synonym on the planet.

"Marriage?" she asked quietly, with a sniff.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on..."

It wasn't a proposal. Bloody hell, that was not a proposal. Nothing was that easy. But as much as she deserved romance and planning and an eye-wateringly expensive ring, she also deserved a promise; a reassurance that they were now a done deal, and that he'd fight acromantulas and dementors and evil wizards for the rest of his life if it meant he'd get to come home to her at the end of every day.

oOo

A/N: Yes, I know. But I felt like some fluff and the next chapter will be up VERY shortly.

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