Author's Notes: Howdy, it's me again! Looks like JKR's recent interview has kinda given me the drive to finally put more fanfic ideas to (virtual) paper. So, here's another one. Please R&R!

Disclaimer: I'd sort of like to see what would happen if I said "YES, this is all mine!". Then again, I don't want to know.

Resting in Peace

(May 2, 1998)

The war was over and after leaving the headmaster's office, Harry, Ron and Hermione had made a beeline straight for the Gryffindor common room where, a short time later, they had been joined by Ginny. A hearty reunion, a plate of sandwiches courtesy of the house-elves and an exchange of updates later (in which the trio had given Ginny a quick and dirty summary of the last year, Ginny had told the others that the Weasleys, including Harry and Hermione, would leave for the Burrow the next day and Hermione had let Ron's family know by Patronus that they were fine), Harry, who had been looking so knackered that he had threatened to fall asleep sitting up at any moment, had gone up to his dorm, Ginny in his tow.

"We should go to sleep, too," Hermione remarked, gently running her hand along Ron's arm.

Ron looked daggers at the door behind which Harry and Ginny had disappeared moments before.

"No way I go kip where those two are... urgh!" he said, not bringing himself to actually finish this sentence and instead opting for making a face that hopefully conveyed the appropriate level of unadulterated disgust.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly. "What d'you think they're doing up there? Harry could barely keep his eyes open."

"I really, really don't want to know ," Ron said, shaking his head. "Really."

"So where else do you think we should sleep then?" she asked and Ron's stomach did a somersault. Perhaps she had not been aware of it, but she way she had put it, she had just implied that she wanted to spend the night with him.

"Er, right here?" he suggested while he felt his idiotic ears burn. Traitors.

"Right. Here in the common room. Where everyone who wants to go to the dorms will see us and wake us up with their racket."

"So what's your suggestion, then?"

"Come with me," she said, jumped to her feet, grabbed his hand and pulled him up. He allowed her to drag him across the room, but when he realized what they were heading for, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"The girls' dorms?"

"Yep."

"But I thought boys weren't allowed-"

"I suppose that won't be so important today."

"Yeah, but I don't just mean the rules. What about the alarm? I really don't fancy having half the school know that I tried to get up there - again," Ron added when he remembered his first unsuccessful attempt at conquering those bloody stairs years ago. The embarrassment that had come out of it had clearly been enough for a lifetime.

"Trust me. I'm sure that won't be happening," Hermione said and Ron did not miss the sad undertone in her voice.

"Okay. For you," he relented and they both continued to walk. When they reached the stairs, Hermione tensed up a bit, giving his hand a little squeeze, and then started to go upstairs. Behind her, Ron gingerly placed his foot onto the first step, and, when nothing happened, kept following her. The stairs never reacted to his presence and he wondered with a pang what this must be saying about the state of the castle as a whole.

Eventually, they entered Hermione's gratefully undamaged dorm. Ron looked around with curiosity. He had never been up here. The room, however, looked very similar to his own dorm, except for the fact that this one housed only three four-poster beds instead of five. Judging by the large photo of Harry, Hermione and himself on the nightstand, he assumed that the bed on the left was Hermione's.

His assumption turned out correct when Hermione walked over to the exact same bed, produced her beaded bag and pulled out pajamas and toothbrushes for both of them before she turned to face him.

"I think we should get cleaned up first," she said and drew Bellatrix' wand. "As much as I'd love a shower right now, I don't think I can stay awake long enough to actually have one."

"Yeah, me too," Ron said and fumbled to pull Pettigrew's wand out of his pocket. "Uh, you first?" he suggested and when Hermione nodded, he pointed the wand at her and said "Tergeo!", feeling rather self-conscious about his wandwork, but much to his relief, it turned out fine.

"Now you," Hermione said. "Tergeo!" And he closed his eyes as Bellatrix' wand seemed to suck in the air around him.

"So, now," Hermione piped up again when she was done and he looked down at his now clean self with appreciation. "Should I go to the loo first or do you want to-"

"You," Ron said immediately. Not only did he want Hermione to get rest first, he also was not certain where exactly he was supposed to sleep and he hoped that whatever state he would find the dorm in when he left the loo would help him determine that.

"Okay," she said, grabbed her pajamas and toothbrush and walked into the room at the far side of the dorm. Minutes later she re-emerged, dressed in her pajamas and her hair somewhat less messy than before.

Giving her a smile, Ron took his stuff and entered the loo. After he had changed his clothes and brushed his teeth, he looked into the mirror above the little sink. He was pleased to see that his mother had done a good job at patching him up down in the Great Hall. His face was pale and his eyes were rather baggy, but apart from that, he looked just like he had looked the morning when they had left Shell Cottage, even though he was sure that he had had at least one bleeding gash on his cheek hours before.

He opened the door and remained standing in the doorway, nervously looking around. And his heartbeat doubled in speed when he saw that the curtains of Hermione's four-poster were open and she was lying on her side, smiling at him and invitingly patting the free space next to her.

Painfully aware that his feet and arms were much too long, Ron walked over and tentatively laid down by her side. Hermione immediately put an arm around his shoulders and, using the wand in her other hand, closed the curtains, cast a Silencing Charm and then ignited the wand so that they could see each other.

They both exchanged nervous grins as they looked at each other. Assuming that he was allowed to do so, Ron placed a trembling hand on Hermione's shoulder blade while her hand wandered up and started to play with the hair on the nape of his neck, occasionally scraping his neck with her nails which sent pleasant shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. After all those months of sleeping in an undersized bunk bed with a crappy mattress or even right on the floor, finally lying in a large, warm, soft and clean bed seemed to him like a downright luxury, and having the girl of his dreams in his arms while he was at it made it even so much better.

His eyes still closed, he leaned forward and his nose nudged a patch of her skin. He lifted his head and brushed his lips against it. When he heard her giggle, he opened his eyes and looked at her. He had kissed her nose. He smiled and she smiled back, her warm eyes dancing with joy and he felt as though he was falling in love with her all over again.

And he spoke it out, just because he could.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed her nose again.

"I love you, too, Ron. So much," Hermione replied and it looked as if she was about to tear up. Her hand moved up and came to rest on the side of his head and he could not help himself. He shifted his head and kissed her on the lips.

She returned his kiss with great enthusiasm, both her hands tangling into his hair and her leg draped around his, and he could all but feel the love and emotion that she poured into her kiss. He tried to do the same for her as best as he could, wanting to let her know how much this meant to him, how much she meant to him. It was all he could do to keep himself from losing himself in her completely. This kiss was different from their first in the Room of Requirement: while that one had been full of urgency and despair, this one was way more intense and passionate, and also more significant, like a promise. A promise for a future they could spend together. At this thought, his stomach flipped with pure elation and he started to feel lightheaded. This was so much better than anything that he had imagined for himself. In the light of the circumstances during the past years, having a future at all had seemed highly unlikely.

Highly unlikely indeed.

And not everyone had beat the odds.

With enormous willpower, he pulled away and rolled onto his back.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"I... I just... I..." Ron started, rubbing his eyes and trying to sort his thoughts. "I don't know what to think, Hermione," he tried to explain. "I... I mean... The war is over. We're free now. We should be happy. Celebrating. But how can we do that when... when so many people have died? Lupin and Tonks just had their kid, and now the tyke's gotta grow up without his parents. F-Fred... He was only twenty. Bleeding blithering twenty! He'd practically just started to live and now he's... he's gone... and my family... oh, God... my family will never be whole again. And yet, here I am, and I'm so happy with you like I've never been before and it feels just so wrong, like I'm not supposed to be happy, not when so many people are suffering..."

He let out a growl, brought up his arms and started to claw at his hair in frustration. Hermione bent over him and gently removed his arms from his face and he could not help looking at her as she was sadly smiling down at him.

"Ron," she said.

He did not know what to say, so he just continued to look up at her uncertainly.

"Ron," she said again. "I... I think it's normal to feel all that. At any rate, I feel the same."

"But how is that okay for you?" he asked with despair.

"I'm not saying it's okay," she responded, gently letting her fingertips run down the side of his face. "It is awful and bloody wrong that all those people died. But, think, why did we do all this? Why did we fight?"

"To get rid of V-Voldemort," Ron said promptly.

"And why did we want to get rid of him?"

"Because he and his cronies were bleeding lunatic psychos that murdered everyone who didn't fit into their world view."

"Right," Hermione agreed. "And because of that, none of us could've lived freely as long as they were still around. None of us could've had a future. And that was what we were fighting for: for a future in freedom, in peace, without fear."

"Of course we will mourn the fallen and it will never fully go away," she continued. "But they wouldn't want us to hold back and be miserable forever. They would've wanted us to be happy, to live our lives and to make the most of it. That's what they fought for, that's what they wanted us to. And that's the best we can do to thank them: live."

Hermione brushed her thumb across his cheek and this was when he realized that he had started to cry. "Y-you think so?" he asked, his voice nothing but a croak.

"Yes. I know it," she whispered and pressed her lips against his forehead.

Ron started to shake. And he threw his arms around Hermione and rolled them both over so that they were lying on their sides again. He buried his face into her shoulder, taking in her calming warmth and scent, and, feeling safe and secure in her embrace, he let down his defenses, letting out his tears. Above him, he felt her cry into his hair as well and he clung tighter to her, both needing her strength and wanting to comfort her. They kept lying like that and slowly, the tears became less, out of exhaustion or out of sincere calm, he was not sure, but it was fine with him all the same.

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispered and brushed his lips across her collarbone. "Don't let go."

"I won't," Hermione whispered back, tightening her hold around his shoulders. "Ever."