They all showered. Hot water washing away all the filth of battle; soap and scrubbing cleaning off weeks of fear and adrenalin. Ginny didn't even bother pretending she was going to sleep in the room made up for her. She'd nestled up against Harry on the sofa, and when they walked upstairs to bed she was half-cuddling his arm. Traumatised, and hitting the honeymoon period of their relationship at the same time, Hermione suspected they wouldn't physically let go of each other for at least a month, except by accident or dire necessity.

There was a blankness about everyone. Ron had been reading a book when she came out of the shower. It was so unusual, and so very normal all in one.

"You know," he'd said, snapping the book shut and putting it down on the hideous legged coffee table "This shock business is quite restful really. I'm not at all looking forward to it wearing off and everything suddenly being really real."

Hermione bit her lip.

"I know."

And they'd gone their separate ways to bed.

Hermione stood in the doorway of the bedroom and stared around at it. It wasn't where she wanted to be. She wanted to be with him, where she could keep an eye on him, where he would be if she woke up from one of her nightmares about losing him. Any other day, she would have felt giddy and anxious, but today, with the shock still scorching through her, she felt a little deadened, and very calm, and she turned and walked down the hallway to Ron's room. She knocked.

"Ron"

"Mmm?" the lights were dim, but still on when she opened the door. He was lying on his back, staring at the canopy of the bed, but he looked over as he heard her enter.

"Can I stay in here with you tonight," It came out almost as more of a statement. Because of the shock. And because of course, she knew he loved her.

He pulled back the covers next to him and she climbed in, snuggling up against him as he threw the covers over her, finding himself with his arm around her. He hadn't meant to do that. But she was there, and she was Hermione, and she was looking at him, and for the first time he realised that it wasn't one sided. The shock had stripped away his angst and insecurity, leaving him with a calm he'd always had, if he'd bothered to look.

So he smoothed her hair back, and kissed her. As though it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though they'd done it a million times before, as though there was never any question that she was his to begin with.

He had his fingers in her hair, she had her leg hooked up over his hip, and pressed together some of their tension fell away. The tension of not really knowing, and of being scared and alone, and of wondering, just evaporated, and they re-settled, still snuggled up, but less so, and fell asleep.

In the morning she woke up first and disappeared to the bathroom, as girls do. She came back and crawled into bed, trying not to wake him. One of his long arms reached out and sort of scooped her in up against him, and she laughed in surprise. He kissed her neck, with his eyes still mostly closed, because he was still mostly asleep.

"You know," he mumbled, "I had the most amazing dream,"

"Oh really," she said, suspicious of the way his mouth quirked up at the side

"Mmmm, you just walked into my room, and said you were going to stay the night, and climbed into bed with me,"

"That wasn't a dream," she said, running her hand along the contours of his arm

"Yes it was," he insisted. He looked at her, eyes alight with mischief and amusement, "You were naked."