A/N: Hi. *waves* I just got through depressingly realizing how little time I've had the past few months to focus on fic, and I thought to myself... I need Ron and Hermione. I need to finish my chapter stories. I need to spend some quality time with them. So, I had mentally instated "Fic Friday" for myself, where I would spend some time every Friday writing and/or reading fic, just being involved in their fandom in general. Then, this story formulated from a random moment of inspiration in the shower yesterday morning. I imagined the last scene in this fic as basically a slow motion image, and I kept saying to myself "Fic Friday, save it for Fic Friday," but I didn't make it past this morning. So, here it is. It lands a bit angsty, but what do you expect?

Reflection

She knew the way to his Hogsmeade flat from the brief time she'd spent there, at the end of Christmas break. She'd gone with Harry and Ron to a couple of flats, as they'd been discussing the idea of moving away from the Burrow. This one had stood out, and Ron had owled her several days after she'd returned to Hogwarts to make sure she liked it enough for him to rent.

She smiled at that memory, touched that he had asked her, that he seemed to want to include her in every choice he made. A large part of her hoped that he'd ask her to move in, once she finished school. But she hadn't mentioned it aloud and was trying not to think too much about it.

It was her final day of Easter break, and she was now standing in front of a worn, oak door with the number 47 tacked to the front in twisted iron. He didn't know she was coming, but she'd gotten word from Harry that they'd arrived back very late the previous night, after a mission, and that Ron had complained that she wouldn't be able to see him because she had to be at Hogwarts for Prefect duties. Not true. She only had to arrive back by dinner for a meeting.

Of course, she'd even have skived the meeting if he'd not gotten back in time. She felt her cheeks redden at the thought, not for the first time realising how attached she was. Not that this was a bad thing. From what she could tell and what he'd said, he felt exactly the same way. It had been difficult, at first, to untie the knots that twisted friendship into romance. Starting a new relationship with someone she had known since she was eleven had caused more than a few snags of confusion. They had slept in a tent together for months, before they were shagging... Was it alright to spend the night in his bed without talking about it first?

Turned out, it had been more than alright, and once they'd finally talked through the details, she'd discovered he was just as nervous about how in love with her he was as she was to admit the same thing. It even made logical sense, once they'd discussed it, because they already knew practically everything about one another... except how amazing it felt to sleep naked under his quilt...

She hesitated at his front door, wondering if she should knock or apparate straight in. As a friend, he wouldn't have questioned her arriving directly in the middle of the kitchen. As his girlfriend, could she suddenly appear in his bedroom?

She pressed her lips together, stomach jumping excitedly. She hadn't seen him in almost two months. Two bloody months.

She smoothed her wild hair back from her face and clutched her wand, opting for the first floor hall. Seconds later, she was standing on a faded rug which ran narrowly down the centre of a dark, wood floor. The door at the end of the hall, on the left, was cracked open. She knew this was his. He had mentioned that he'd taken the room that overlooked the back alley, with slightly lower buildings on the next street over, beyond which he could barely make out Hogwarts castle on a clear day. And she could see bits of this view through the window at the end of the hall, which would be on the same wall as the room to the left, so-

The door creaked softly as it opened wider, and she froze to her spot, holding her breath, eyes lowering to his pale, freckled hand as he pressed it to the door frame. And then, his head emerged, peering out, furrowed brow turning to a high, surprised raise as he grinned.

"I knew I heard someone apparate out here," he said, stepping fully through the doorway, into the hall. "Couldn't have been Harry. He's in the bath."

Her grin spread in return, and she now couldn't think of a reason she shouldn't be running down the hall to grab him. But, he beat her to that idea in a couple of long strides, hand going to the side of her face before she could breathe. Her eyes closed just in time, as his lips pressed to hers. She clutched the front of his shirt with both fists, feeling his body react, his low voice humming into her mouth as she pushed up onto her toes to get closer.

When he pulled back, it was only far enough to catch his breath.

"That wasn't smart," she whispered. "I could be polyjuiced."

"Nah," he said in a scratchy voice. "Flat's got a ward so nobody but me, you and Harry can apparate in."

Her lips parted in awe.

"You did that charm without me even having to be here?"

"Tone," he teased, laughing a little as he dropped his hands from her face.

"Ron, I'm not sure I could do that without you being inside the house to cast from."

He shrugged, reaching down to take her hand.

"You left a hairbrush and some other stuff in my trunk at Christmas. It wasn't that hard once I got the wandwork down."

She laced her fingers with his and opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted when the door directly to her right opened swiftly. A dark, shaggy, wet head poked through, blinking, missing his glasses.

"Oh, you made it," Harry said, smiling at Hermione.

"You knew she was coming?" Ron asked, glaring slightly.

"I owled her when we got back. Figured you could use the surprise after this weekend..."

Hermione glanced from Harry back to Ron.

"What happened?" she asked, concern growing as Ron avoided her eyes.

"Your boyfriend thought he'd be clever and storm the suspect's house from the cellar while we tried to block him upstairs," Harry explained. "Unfortunately-"

"Oi!" Ron shouted, failing to derail Harry...

"-the bastard's son got in a good slash across Ron's leg with a bloody sword before Ron realised he was there."

"A bloody sword, Hermione!" Ron repeated indignantly, glancing down at her and changing tactics entirely from covering up the details to emphasising the absurdity. "Who sits in their cellar on a Saturday night with a fucking sword?!"

"Yeah, none of us would have placed bets on that," Harry snickered.

In spite of her mounting, retrospective worry about Ron's safety, she had to grin a little at this, still trying her best to suppress it. She didn't want to completely relieve him yet. First, she would have to see this wound… and give him a small talking to about recklessness.

"But…" Harry continued, "Ron's plan was actually genius, because the suspect had a hidden door none of us knew about in his study, which led directly down to the cellar. Ron stunned him before he even fully opened the door. He almost definitely would have escaped if Ron hadn't been down there."

Hermione sighed, clutching Ron's hand a bit tighter.

"You know I have to say it," she said.

"Go on," he smiled.

"You've got to be more careful. I guess you did the right thing, but honestly, the war is over, and we aren't going around thinking we're probably going to die for Harry..."

"Hey!" Harry shouted, frowning.

"So," she continued, ignoring Harry, "I'm not at all prepared for something terrible to happen to you."

"I know," Ron sniffed. "If it makes you feel any better, my very first thought after the git got me was 'shit, Hermione's going to kill me.'"

"Helps a bit," she smiled vaguely. "Although I would prefer for you to have that thought before doing something spontaneous that could get you killed..."

"That makes sense," he grinned, as Harry backed away from the half-open loo door.

"I'm freezing my bollocks off," Harry said, disappearing. "Getting dressed." The door shut with a click, and a light rain began to tap against the roof and window.

"I was just unpacking. Got in too late last night to finish," Ron said. "Come to my room with me?"

She smiled as he dropped her hand, following him down the hall and into his room.

She didn't have much time here. And so, naturally, she spent most of it trying very, very hard not to think about how much was passing. Once they'd unpacked his things, Ron took her down to the kitchen for tea, and Harry started a small fire as they talked. After a while, Harry discreetly excused himself, obviously to give them time alone, and Ron gave her a brief tour of the rest of the flat before they returned to his room. It looked quite different than it had the last time she'd been here, now that it had life inside it. It occurred to her that after a mere couple of hours, she already felt more at home here than she had all year in her Hogwarts dormitory, a place she'd called home for nearly seven years. So maybe home wasn't actually the place at all...

This wasn't a new epiphany - there had been glimpses of this in the tent even, a place that lacked almost all the comforts of a traditional living arrangement. But Ron had been there. And so, in those quiet moments, when she'd rested her mind to breathe, he'd been beside her, and she'd felt comforted in a way that had eluded her for many months prior.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, softly. And she realised that she'd been sitting on the edge of his bed for several minutes in silence, staring forward as the rain ran down his window. She looked up to meet his eyes.

"I wish I could stay here with you," she said, smiling a bit sadly.

He sat on the floor in front of her, resting his forearm across her thighs.

"Actually," he started, clearing his throat. He looked down at her lap and played with the fabric of her skirt with his thumb and index finger, and she could tell he was nervous. "Was gonna talk to you about that. I thought maybe you'd want to... dunno, live here after school."

His eyes jumped up to hers, gauging her reaction. Her lips were slightly parted, and she could feel each pounding beat of her heart.

"If you want," he repeated. "Or, if you'd rather-"

"Perfect," she interrupted, smiling. "Of course I want to."

His grin spread slowly.

"Yeah?"

She nodded, and he cleared his throat again.

"We've only got the two bedrooms," he continued, "but I can share with Harry if-"

"I don't need my own room," she cut over him again, not wanting to drag this out unnecessarily.

His hand was resting loosely on her legs now, and she ran the tips of her fingers over the backs of his. His eyelids fluttered at her touch, and she felt her stomach jump.

"I was hoping you'd ask me," she said at a near-whisper, and he smiled up at her, flattening his palm to her thigh.

He breathed deeply and let it out through his nose, removing his hand from her legs long enough to shift onto his knees, directly in front of her, placing both hands on her knees. She reached out to brush his fringe back from his forehead, and he grinned wider, closing his eyes and pressing his hipbones to her shins. She shivered and parted her legs, tugging him between them, lifting her hands to the sides of his face as his eyes opened again, meeting hers, so close. He slid his hands up her legs, around her waist, pressing his palms to her back just as she tilted her head forward to kiss him.

All she could feel was his warmth, his lips on hers, and all she could hear was her heart and the growing sounds of the rain outside. She imagined she had nowhere to be, no reason to go. She was here for as long as she wanted, which was as long as she'd live, she guessed. There was no reason to hurry because they had the rest of their lives, not the space of an hour before she had to go…

When his lips parted from hers, she sighed, frustrated with her own mind, unable to focus on the moments she had left, rather than the ones already slipping away.

"What?" he whispered, breath warming her skin.

"I have to be back in an hour," she said, looking sadly into his eyes.

He licked his slightly swollen bottom lip and moved back a bit more from her.

"You've maybe got a Hogsmeade weekend soon, yeah?" he said, but she didn't miss the sadness in his own voice, even though he was trying to sound positive.

She felt her eyes burn, and she knew if she didn't get out of this room right away, she'd cry, and he'd see, and she didn't want to do that right now. Not when she only had that bloody hour before-

"I need the loo," she said, making a move to stand while he backed out from between her legs, still sitting on the floor, watching her, as she stood. "I'll be right back," and she quickly turned away toward the door.

When she returned to his room, he was standing by the window, rain flowing down the glass outside, illuminated by the dying light of overcast day. Her eyes were still burning, but not with the need to cry. She'd taken care of that already. She hoped he wouldn't notice, and somehow she actually convinced herself he wouldn't, but he didn't even have to look at her, as she softly closed his door behind her.

"You're right, it's bad," he said, still not turning to face her. "Whenever you leave after… yeah, I just sit in my room and stare at the wall and think how sad my life is going to be until the next time."

She pressed her lips together tightly, not wanting to cry again. She walked tentatively closer, until he turned slightly and looked down at her face.

"You don't have to do that, you know... leave the room, I mean," he said, eyes darting across her cheeks, meeting her eyes. "I'm not fifteen."

"What?" she asked softly, not quite understanding.

"I didn't know what to do when you'd cry when I was fifteen," he smiled. "I think I've figured it out a bit better now, yeah?"

"I didn't want to ruin it," she said softly.

"Ruin what?"

"Our last-" she reached for his wrist and glanced down at his watch, "-three quarters of an hour." She shifted her face to remain expressionless as she looked back up into his eyes.

"Can't ruin anything," he muttered, looking down at her hand as he linked his fingers with hers.

Her eyes slid down his face, past the light ginger stubble long his jaw, down his freckled neck, the collar of his cotton shirt, down the centre of his chest…

"You've got too many clothes on," she mumbled.

"I- what?" he grinned.

"You heard me," she said to his stomach, feeling her cheeks flush.

"Okay," he said, "but what's all this?" He tugged the hem of her jumper, and she laughed.

"You're right, fair's fair," she said, dropping his hand and sliding both palms up under the front his shirt, finally feeling his skin.

"Hermione," he said, pausing her motions with his voice. She met his eyes again, familiarly frozen by that gaze, the one she'd started to see after Malfoy Manor last year. "I love you."

"I love you," she mouthed back, afraid she might cry again.

She tugged his shirt, and he helped her pull it off over his head, reaching then for her jumper. She lifted her arms as he slid it over her hair, static making a mess of her already out of control curls. Her thin vest had stayed behind, but she didn't wait for him to reach for it, too. She yanked it over her head, standing in her bra and skirt and socks.

Her cold hands moved to his belt, working on the buckle as he rested his hands on her hips. He reached behind her and searched for a zipper, and she smiled, his face taking on a look of concentration. She unbuttoned his trousers and smacked his forearm lightly, indicating he should remove his hands, which he did, holding them up slightly confused until she laughed and turned around, her back now toward him. She heard him chuckle before he reached again for the much more obvious zipper at the centre of the back of her skirt, sliding it down and then pushing the pleated material off her hips with both hands. Her skirt dropped and pooled on the floor at her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside, turning back around to face him, breathing through her parted lips.

He mumbled something she couldn't make out, but the message was clear as he clutched her waist in one hand, tugging slightly until she stepped forward, pressing her body to the front of his as he ducked to kiss her again. His hands moved up her bare back, fingers spreading across her goosefleshed skin. She began to feel that desperate, familiar need to be closer, an irrational thought that she connected with the desire she'd only ever felt about him. His fingertips moved underneath her bra clasp, and she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, body tingling when she felt the rumble in his chest from his deep moan of pleasure. She turned her head, moving her nose to the other side of his, giving her a brief moment to suck in an aching breath while his erection pressed firmly against her stomach.

She distantly heard herself making an airy sort of sound into his mouth, and his tongue pressed to hers as her hands dropped down his lower back, beneath the elastic of his pants. He pulled back to breathe, but then he leaned forward, over her shoulder, as his hands worked her bra clasp free. She felt the material loosen and fall away from her skin as he took half a step back, sliding the straps off her arms and breathing erratically through his mouth.

"God," he breathed, swallowing.

Her chest heaved with an anticipating breath, the cool air around her making her shiver. Or was it his deep blue eyes roaming down over her exposed body? She recalled that anxious feeling she'd had the first time he'd seen her naked, contrasting it now to the excitement of knowing how much she affected him. She could see his muscles tense, his throat move as he swallowed again, the slight trembling of his beautiful hands.

She needed his skin against hers again, so she stepped into his warmth and pressed the front of her body to his as he wrapped an arm low around her waist, cupping the side of her neck with his other hand. His long fingers extended into her hair, behind her ears, and his nose brushed hers as he kissed her again.

It was both more frantic and more personal, at the same time. She imagined she could watch the two of them, from across the room, their bodies nearly naked, touching anywhere they could reach. He turned them around, so that her back was toward his low chest of drawers, just barely to the left of the window. Thunder was rumbling, but it seemed quite distant, the soft, deep sounds he was making much more present than anything outside could be.

He tilted back from her, just far enough to lift her thigh, bending her leg up his until he gripped her arse with his other hand and lifted her onto his chest of drawers. She sat speechless, breathless, realising distractedly how perfect the height was as she opened her legs, her back pressing lightly against the wall, his hips moving between her thighs. But he paused, ducking to kiss her neck, making her gasp with pleasure, before he moved away altogether. And she would have protested, but she didn't have time, realising at once that he was crouching in front of her, reaching for her knickers. She closed her legs and lifted her arse as he slid them off, tossing them to the floor and standing again to finish removing his trousers and boxers.

"God, I missed you," she breathed, eyes scanning freely over his completely nude body.

He grinned, taking satisfaction from how he affected her, but she wasn't entirely fooled. The tips of his ears were as red as her flushed cheeks.

"You might not be able to leave this room for a while when you move in," he said, his own eyes blazing a path down her chest, stomach, between her legs as they parted again.

"You either," she said, unable to come up with anything better to say when he was looking at her like that. But then she noticed the bandage around his left calf, and, for a second, she considered mentioning it, asking more about it. But he was here and he was alright, and it didn't seem worth it to change the subject. She would owl him later, to get all the details. "Come back here."

He hardly waited for her to finish speaking, hands moving to cover most of her arse as he shifted back between her legs and pulled her tight against him. His erection pressed to her thigh, and she gripped his shoulders, leaning forward to suck on his collarbone, up the side of his neck.

"Shit…" he panted, tilting his head back a bit. He moved his hands up her back again, fingers spreading to cover a remarkable distance. "Feels fucking amazing."

She reached his ear, biting lightly and nuzzling the side of her face against his slightly scratchy jaw, then pulling back to look into his heavy-lidded eyes. His hands moved again, gripping the tops of her thighs, thumbs so close to-

"Ron," she breathed.

"Yeah?" he asked, surely not expecting a response.

She tightened her legs around him, one of her sock-covered heels digging into his arse, and he steadied her as he changed his position just slightly and slid inside of her.

The moment they were joined, she saw hazy dots swirl at the edges of her vision, and it vaguely occurred to her that she'd eaten nothing all day.

But then he slid halfway out and back into her again, sighing heavily and clenching his jaw as he cupped her face with both hands, lips parted, clearly on the verge of saying something he couldn't put into words.

They were pressed so tight together, with her arching her back to the wall like this, and he kissed her cheek, working down to her lips, moving his hips as her nails dug into his shoulderblades. He sped up slightly, and she felt all her senses increase, every touch like a tiny electric shock. She had two favourite ways to do this - kissing, like they were now, and holding his gaze, so close that his eyes blurred into one.

She encouraged him to move faster, groaning and running her hands through his hair. He followed her silent advice, and with each thrust, her back hit the wall softly, increasing the friction, forcing them even closer together, even deeper inside her.

She thought about the first time she'd had an orgasm while he'd been inside of her, and how shocked she had been, how the feeling had spread to every nerve in her body. He'd been exceptionally pleased, but had downplayed it until she'd teased him into admitting it was his favourite thing he'd ever done. She knew it would happen today. She'd been close to it only moments after they'd started. She'd wondered, back in September, if they'd lose some momentum, waiting so long between seeing each other. But it actually had a near opposite effect, and he could turn her on just by smiling at her, brushing his fingers over her skin…

He was kissing her again, each of them making a small sound of pleasure as he moved deeper inside of her. And then, she felt it, that building shockwave, somewhere deep in her belly, fanning outward from her core. She grabbed his face in both hands, pulling him back so his lips left hers, still parted and panting, small beads of sweat along his temples. His eyes met hers, and he was blue. All blue and glowing.

Rain slid heavy down the window to her left, still slightly illuminated by the dying blue-gray light of overcast day, turning swiftly to the growing glow of moon and stars, behind barely visible clouds. And the view reflected on his milk-white skin, casting him in a soft blue haze, water rushing like shadows of heavy tears down his cheeks.

Two more months, she would say, trying to make it sound like less than it was. But it would feel like a lifetime. So, she'd freeze this in her memory, his face, his eyes, the feeling of being perfectly joined with someone she loved with more than all of her heart.

He slowed his movement, almost frozen, and she knew he felt it, too, unsure if the shadows from the rain on his face had turned from illusion to actual tears.