A/N: This is kinda an AU I guess, though no one really knows what the Trio did immediately after the war. So in this Ron takes up painting as a hobby and paints Hermione to help her get over some fears she had.

In the months after the war a kind of gloomy peace covered the wizarding world. It may seem like a contradiction, but there is no other way to describe it. The gloom came from the overwhelming grief. So many had sacrificed their lives, so many loved ones had moved on. Azkaban was filled to the brim and many families were losing loved ones to the dark prison. Say what you will about purebloods, and Slytherins, but no one deserves to have both of their parents locked away, never able to see them again. However the new minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was working on getting visitation time for families. He also had banished all the Dementors. New positions opened up as prison guards which created new, and much needed jobs after so much money had been lost from all the destruction.

Unfortunately places that were also filling up were orphanages and Saint Mungo's. Children whose parents had been sentenced to death or life in Azkaban were put into the system since usually most of their relatives were on trial as well. St. Mungos never seemed to slow down, everyday a traumatized Death Eater's victim or a cursed witch of wizard would fall through the doors. The Healers had their hands full, and could barely contain the ill.

However, a strange sense of peace also covered the wizarding kind. This time they were finally sure, certain, that Voldemort's reign of terror was over. They knew that the Death Eaters or other evil witches and wizards were too disorganized and distraught to form any sort of alliance. People were finally accepting that things could gradually go back to some form of normal, though things would never be completely the same.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had felt odd ever since the war ended. Though it made them all feel guilty, to some extent, they felt bored. Their whole lives had been leading up to a moment that had ended, and though they were glad it did, they didn't quite know what to do with themselves.

Hermione had restored her parent's memory, Harry had been fixing up Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and Ron had spent 5 agonizing weeks in a house where booms and bangs no longer came from Fred and George's room.

In fact George hadn't left his room since the incident. Ron had said he'd only seen him three times, and he'd looked deathly pale and thin. Charlie had come to stay at home for a while, for his parents sake. Percy was wracked with guilt over Fred's death, and had put his entire life's energy into trying to make things right. He was an assistant to Kingsley, and hardly did anything but work. Arthur was quiet, preoccupied, always staring into the distance. Molly on the other hand was wild. She nagged and nagged until she was blue in the face. Anxiety and worry kept her up for hours and hours, she hardly slept anymore. She wouldn't let anyone do anything, Ginny couldn't handle the butter knives, Charlie could make floo powder calls to his colleagues, Percy couldn't pack his own lunch, Ron couldn't comb his own hair, Mr. Weasley couldn't go out and get rid of the gnomes in the garden and nobody, nobody, could bring food to George but her.

Hermione was having her own troubles as well. The Muggle world had definitely taken hits, but nothing like their magical neighbors. Hermione found everyday more and more frustrating as she tried to explain to her parents the horrors she'd experienced. They just didn't get it, couldn't get it. Not to mention Hermione found herself becoming restless from a lack of school-work or world saving to do. She planned to finish out her last year of Hogwarts when it started up again, but according to most recent reports that might be another year.

Then there was Harry, the perpetually lonely boy. He spent his days walking aimlessly around Grimmauld Place, wishing some ghostly apparition of one his lost loved ones would appear. He'd only told Ron and Hermione this, but most says he still felt like he was recovering from dying. He still felt as though he were caught in the middle of a dream, as though nothing were really there. He kept expecting to hear Sirius's bark of a laugh, hear Mrs. Weasley yell Fred's name, Hear Lupin tell a story with a tired edge to his voice, see Tonks change her face, or even see Dumbledore peer over his spectacles at him. Sometimes, though rarely, he even expected to see his parents. It was odd to expect something he'd never experienced, but after his brief stint in the afterworld, and his meeting with them in the Forest, he couldn't help but sometimes imagine a flash of red hair, or a cheeky grin. Krecher made him meals, and tried to cheer him up, but Harry felt like a statue, like cold marble that couldn't be warmed. His favorite thing to do now was sleep, because sometimes in his dreams he'd see the ones he'd lost, and he'd get to apologize.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had seen one another at a Weasley family dinner, when Fleur announced she was pregnant. The first happy news in a while, and everyone pretended they were thrilled. Some of them were, but most of them were thinking about how George was still not downstairs.

The trio stayed up late into the night talking and talking and soon they realized that no one, no matter how hard they tried, could understand things the way they did. So Harry had come up with a solution, he'd rented a house, along a beach. The scenery was beautiful and the air was warm, and the living was nice. It was near enough the burrow that it could be easily visited, and Hermione could apparate to her parents wherever needed. Ginny visited often, as did Mrs. Weasley. Hermione's parents had also stayed a couple times. Finally something was working, this felt more healthy, more normal than anything they'd done so far.

Each of them had decided to try to take up new hobbies to distract their minds. A new task to help start a new age. Ron had decided to take up painting. Hermione had laughed at first which had turned Ron into a miserable angsty wreck until she'd apologized. It just seemed so un-Ron, but surprisingly he was actually good. It wasn't something you'd expect he'd have a knack for, but he did. Sometimes his work was abstract, but he was also rather good at figures. He mostly painted Hermione and Harry as they were the people he saw the most.

Harry's new hobby was Herbology, which he'd never really gotten into at school. Now he found it rather soothing to let him mind go blank as he watered his plants. He sometimes owled Neville about it. Ron often painted gorgeous illustrations of a unshaven Harry padding around his green house room, watering his plants.

Hermione on the other hand had taken up a Muggle hobby, the guitar. She practiced daily and of course had a skill for it, like she did most things. Ron secretly loved painting her as she bent over her instrument, focused, with her frizzy hair, and tired eyes, tongue sticking out ever so slightly as she formed the chord with her fingers. He also loved to listen to her play, though it was slow going, with pauses throughout, her gentle humming and strumming would often bring him peace when nothing else could.

"Hey 'Mione," Ron said softly, kissing her neck gently.

"Hey," Hermione responded, strumming a G chord. She wearing long sleeves even though the day was warm. She never wore anything that revealed her forearms anymore. She didn't like seeing her scar that spelled out "Mudblood" in jagged letters. She'd tried different salves, potions, asked different healers but the spell had been some nasty and permanent dark magic. Bellatrix had known all too well how make unhealable. Ron had told her time and time again she was beautiful no matter what, but she said she just needed some time. She knew she wouldn't cover up forever, but right now the wound was too fresh, she didn't want to look at it.

"You look beautiful today," He said sweetly.

"Thanks," she said, leaning back into him for a moment.

"Can you put the guitar down for a moment," Ron asked cheekily. "I want to kiss you more."

"Alright," Hermione sighed happily, and placed the guitar gently on its stand. Ron moved around so he was now on the couch beside her. He pulled her onto him, kissing her passionately. Their lips fit together perfectly, gentle and yet full of feeling. Ron dipped his head to kiss the velvet like skin of Hermione's neck. She smelled like the lilac shampoo she used and the fresh strawberries they'd eaten this morning. Ron hoped he smelled just as good, if not like the strawberries, then like the copious amount of syrup he'd applied to his pancakes.

Ron gently sucked on the skin of her throat. Hermione moaned lightly, and Ron felt that was all the reward he needed. He felt her hands travel down to his pants, unbuttoning them. His breath hitched as she began to palm him a bit over the fabric of his underwear.

"Mmmmhhh," he groaned into her neck. She lifted the other hand to move his face back up to hers. He sucked on her lip, brightening slightly, happy they were getting this far. Since the incident at Malfoy Manor, poor Hermione hadn't been able to go very far without panicking a bit.

Usually starting out like this and fooling around a little gave her no trouble, it was when her top was about to come off that she became jumpy. Ron was very understanding about it all, but he wished so much that she didn't have to feel this way. However, right now, things were going beautifully. The only labored breath he heard was full of need and not anxiety. Hermione's hands were all over him, rubbing and grabbing.

His hand ran up her blouse, thumbs running under her bra greedily. She pulled at his shirt, and immediately removed it. As he did he watched her lust darkened eyes flit over his torso.

"Ron," she said ever so gently.

"Yeah," he said back, pressing his nose against hers.

"You've got scars too, I've only just noticed," she traced the lines where the brains had squeezed him only last year. Her hands then moved up to his shoulder where a larger, newer scar sat. The scar from his splinching was still pink and a bit puffy. He'd been using a salve to help it go down, per Neville's suggestion, but it would still take a while before it disappeared completely. Unfortunately, the brains scars would mark him forever like Hermione's, the magic was too deep and dark for it to ever go away.

"Yeah," He said deeply.

"How, how do you do it?" She asked shutting her eyes for a moment. "How do you look at them?"

"I just know they're not who I am, and they're not my fault, well I mean the brains aren't. I'm a bit of an idiot, so the spliching might've been my fault."

"Oh stop, it wasn't," Hermione laughed.

"But see 'Mione, you didn't even notice my scars till now. I know mine aren't as traumatic as yours, but you've got to understand, nobody will be focusing on it as much as you do."

"I-I know, but it's like for the first time in my life, I can't believe the logical explanation. Usually I would depend on that solution, but now, my heart just won't believe what my brain wants it to."

"I know angel," Ron said kissing her forehead gently. "But it'll get better."

She nodded stiffly. Ron thought he saw a tear at the edge of her eye, but it must've been the light. He wanted to talk to her more about how she felt, about how she was so much more than that dumb scar. However, her response surprised him. She pressed her lips to his again, with a renewed hunger, biting his bottom lip seductively. Ron didn't know if it was healthy to avoid important conversations like this, but right now he couldn't quite think straight, as Hermione's hands roamed his southern region.

Hermione grinded agasint him slightly, sucking on his tongue. Her small hands touching his pale skin, sinking her nails in slightly as he moved his lips to her neck. He bit the skin there slightly, and she gasped. He flicked his tongue over where he'd nipped her.

"Oh Ron," She groaned. His hands moved up her shirt again, large hands grabbing and squeezing. He decided to approach the area they always cut it off. He began to lift her shirt slightly, to see if she was okay with it. She nodded, her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his lips on her throat. He lifted it higher, and now her midriff was showing. The green sweater was almost off, and Ron found himself getting harder at the thought of Hermione's exposed upper half.

He was about to lift it over her head for her when an pained sound emitted from Hermione's mouth. Ron immediately dropped the shirt, to see Hermione's face screwed up. She was trying desperately not to cry, but her chest was moving rapidly up and down. She was having a panic attack.

"Oh Love!" Ron said alarmed. He pulled her hair away from her face, and rubbed her back gently. "Just breathe."

"I'm sorry," She said finally choking on her tears. "I c-can't do it, I want to, I really do, but I can't."

"It's okay," Ron said soothingly. "Shhh, you don't need to apologize."

"No, Ron, because I want to," She mumbled into his chest. "I want to, I mean I really want to have sex with you," she said with a red face, and giggled a bit at the sentence. "I just can't take it, all the sensations, all the vulnerability.

"It's oka,y you don't need to, I can wait as long as you need," Ron said gently rubbing her back.

"I wish there was just some way I could ease into it," She said softly. They were both silent for a few moments. Then Ron sat up abruptly.

"Hermione I know!" Ron said excitedly.

"What?" She asked confusedly.

"Let me paint you!" Ron said energetically.

"Ronald," Her typical know-it-all tone was immediately implemented. "You have literally painted me at least fifty times, I mean every time I look at you, you've got a furrowed brow, and a paintbrush."

"No 'Mione," Ron rolled his eyes. "I mean let me paint you, naked."

Hermione's eyes widened, with a apprehension, but also a bit of excitement.

"Think about it," He said matter-of-factly. "You'll be easing into it. You won't have the pressure of sex, you can just relax, and get used to me seeing you like that," The tips of Ron's ears reddened with each word.

"It is a good idea….." Hermione said slowly. "Alright, let's do it!"

"Okay, but if you need to stop, you just tell me, okay?" He said gently.

"Okay," she nodded, grateful for her understanding boyfriend.

Ron ran to his room to get his painting supplies ready. Hermione followed at a slower rate, a bit worried, but also anticipating a good result. When she reached Ron's room, she locked his door. She started by removing her jeans. Ron didn't even notice as he set up his easel.

"Oh," Ron breathed, as he looked up and saw her only clothed on her top half. He nodded slightly, resolutely, trying to focus on the shape of her, and not how beautiful she was.

"Okay, now for the rest," She said slowly. She took off her bra, with her sweater still on. The white article of clothing falling to the floor. She then closed her eyes, and began to slowly pull up her sweater. She lifted it over her head, remembering to breathe slowly. Suddenly all she had left to do was pull her arms out. She did that slowly too, but it could only go on so long, and soon she was completely naked in front of Ron. Hermione opened her eyes to see a stunned Ron.

His mouth was hanging open, and his pupils were blown up. His entire body seemed to be red, and his hands were rapidly fidgeting.

"Hermione!" He drew out her name, his voice sounding very different. "You're bloody perfect." Hermione couldn't help but smile brightly. Ron was right, she felt much less pressured, and this was easier than she'd thought.

"Th-thanks," She said slowly. She could see it was taking quite a lot of Ron's self control not to come kiss her. She looked down.

"Um, I mean, how do you want to pose?" He asked her.

"Well can I lay down? I don't really want to stand for a long time," She said.

"Of course," He gestured to his bed. "Do what you want." She sauntered over to his bed, and made herself comfortable. She grabbed one of the books she kept for herself in Ron's room, because most nights they slept together.

"Perfect," Ron murmured. "Very you."

"Thank you," She laughed a little. "You know this is reminding me of The Titanic," Hermione said.

"What's the Titanic?" Ron asked as he dipped his paintbrush in the brown.

"Oh just a muggle movie," Hermione said. The two stayed silent after that, though Hermione was still very aware of her boyfriend's eyes on her. She didn't mind as much as she thought she would. She actually was growing to enjoy the feeling of him studying her. The hardest part was reading, but avoiding the corner of her eye catching the shiny white skin that said "Mudblood."

As she read her mind wandered. She pumped herself up to look down at her arm properly, to take it in. She was going to face her scar. She hadn't really looked at it since it happened. She'd been too busy with the war at first, and then she'd purposely kept her eyes averted. Now she thought she might be ready, Ron was right this was cathartic.

She took a breath and looked down bravely. The scar was smaller than she'd remembered it. Instead of looking gnarled or puffy, the skin was just slightly more pink and shiny than the rest of her arm. She'd spent so long looking away from it that she'd made it up in her mind to be some big awful thing, but in reality it wasn't that big. She could deal with this, this would be okay. At least that's what she thought until she started seeing flashes of the Malfoy's Manor.

Hermione's breathing became heavier. She felt the weight of Bellatrix's body pressing into her. The gaunt lady's bones ground into her own. She felt the pain reverberating through her, dark swirling of magic encompassing her. She was screaming, maybe out loud, maybe in her vision, but one of her was screaming. She heard Bellatrix's taunts, the nasty words, then something happened that hadn't happened in Malfoy Manor, arms surrounded her.

She curled into a ball on Ron's lap. He ran his hands through her hair. She could see the room again. It was bright with blue walls and yellow light filtering through the window. She was okay, pale, freckled arms held her tight. Her breathing regulated as Ron's lips moved against her ear, mumbling comforts to her.

"I'm sorry, this was too much," Ron apologized.

"No, it was good," She said slowly.

"How," Ron demanded.

"I definitely feel better, I looked at my arm, and I saw that place, but instead of it ending with despair, you were here. Soon I'll learn that if that particular vision ever starts, it ends with you holding me, it ends with me being okay."

"Damn right," Ron whispered into her hair.

"I feel stronger, for having one of those panic attacks and recovering," She mused.

"Good love," Ron said, still speaking quietly.

"Sorry you had such a short time to paint," She said, knowing he'd only gotten about an hour.

"Oh I'm done," Ron laughed.

"What?" Hermione was stunned.

"Yeah, when you've got enchanted paint brushes, it goes much faster," he explained.

"Can I see?" She asked.

"Of course," Ron lead her off the bed and to his easel. On the canvas there was a beautiful figure. Hermione was almost about to ask who was in the painting, then she realized this was how Ron saw her. She was absolutely breathtaking. The curves of her body, the curls in her hair, the gentle dimples in her back, it was all there, and it was all lovely. Hermione noticed there was something written on her arm where the "Mudblood" scar was in real life. Her stomach turned, she wished Ron had omitted that part. However, as she looked closer, she realized the word didn't say "Mudblood" it said "Warrior." Tears immediately sprung to Hermione's eyes.

"Oh my goodness Ron, It's so beautiful," She said wiping at her eyes to clear them so she could look at the picture longer.

"I'm glad you like it," Ron said kissing her temple from behind.

"I do, I love it."