A/N: Hi! This little story came to because Idon'tedit makes such beautiful manips, and they kicked my rekindled Harmony-flame so much that we made a little collaboration. Idon'tedit made the two manips you can see in the cover art - aren't they gorgeous? A huge shout-out, please! I wrote a little drabble to each of them and a little one-shot came out of it. I hope you like it, even if it isn't Dramione.

Disclaimer: None of the characters, places, etc. mentioned in here are mine but JKR's, and I don't make money with this.

Definition of non sequitur

1: an inference that does not follow from the premises; specifically : a fallacy resulting from a simple conversion of a universal affirmative; proposition or from the transposition of a condition and its consequent

2: a statement (such as a response) that does not follow logically from or is not clearly related to anything previously said

Definition as to be found in the Merriam Webster dicionary)

Part One

Whenever Ron looked at his best friends, they were close to each other. He didn't know if Harry and Hermione were even aware of that, but you rarely caught one without the other after the Battle of Hogwarts. They had always been close, though, he assumed now it was reassuring the other that the nightmare they had lived in for so long was indeed over.

Except that it wasn't. Not in their hearts. Not in their minds.

Ron knew that better than some, for he also found himself craving human touch. Not in a sexual sense, but in proving that he was still alive by feeling his father's hand on his arm, by resting his head against his mother's shoulder, by enveloping George in a hug when he had one of his catatonic days.

But on this day, the first of September, it was a different closeness between Harry and Hermione. In the past, they used to board the Hogwarts Express on that date; impatient, gleeful, and with the growing awareness of the horror around them. Of course, they would travel back to London today, but not to pass the barrier at platform 9 ¾, but to return to Grimmauld Place 12. The haunted house had been a strange isle of peace during the War, a counterpoint if you will. Harry didn't want to live alone there, and it made sense that Ron and Hermione moved in, that the three of them stayed together, just like they always did. Ron and Hermione followed Harry wherever he went. Almost, at least.

However, Ron found his friends sitting on the swing in some distance from the Burrow, and he couldn't shake the feeling he interrupted something very private. Hermione sat on Harry's lap as if she belonged there. His raven haired friend's glasses were askew, his head resting against Hermione's chest, almost touching the skin beneath her collarbone that her low-cut shirt exposed with his nose. And then there was this glassy way the brunette's whisky coloured eyes shone when she raised her head. The green monster of jealousy instantly awoke in Ron again, having been asleep beneath thick layers of grief, hurt, and consolation for the past few months.

Hermione and Harry were only friends, weren't they? After all, he and Hermione had shared a kiss in the heat of the battle; that had to mean something. He hoped to explore his feelings for the witch when he could think clearly again. For the moment being, Ron needed Hermione as his friend, as much as he needed Harry as his brother.

He swallowed his unease and covered it with sheepishness as he spoke, "It's time to go back to Grimmauld. A good night's sleep is essential for Auror training, someone very smart told me."

Hermione gave him an honest smile in response, knowing very well that it was she who had ingrained that into his and Harry's brains since they begun their classes some weeks ago. And, of course, she was right.

Harry, now finally opening his eyes, said nothing. seemingly returning from deep thought. But the way he looked up to the woman next to him spoke more than a thousand words.

Part Two

The incident at the Burrow made Ron suspicious. He didn't say anything, because it had almost ruined their friendship the last time, horcrux or not.

But he observed.

He saw the tenderness in Harry's eyes when he gazed at Hermione reading one of her heavy healer's books in front of the library's fireplace.

He heard the ease in Hermione's laughter when Harry, again, argued with Kreacher about the use of a vacuum cleaner versus elf magic - and the creature won.

He smelled the earthy-fresh of the green tea Harry prepared for Hermione because no one else could do that so perfectly.

And even with his suspicions growing every day, they never did anything inappropriate when he was in the room. Ron wasn't even entirely sure if his friends noticed the changing character of the trio's dynamics. They didn't speak about it, at least.

It was a gloomy and rainy afternoon in November that marked a point of no return for Ron. His training boots were muddy to the point where no cleaning spell helped anymore, so he had floo'ed to the kitchen and had changed in his room, now searching for Harry and Hermione. He found them sitting in the library, Harry sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs, Hermione on the persian rug next to him. Her head rested on Harry's thigh, the arm slung casually around his ankle. Both were reading, but then Harry's right hand left the book he was holding and sunk into the witch's unruly curls. Hermione must have liked it, for she closed her eyes in bliss like a cat and sighed.

That sound shook Ron to the bone; he had rather caught them making out than witnessing this depth of intimacy.

Reality crashed on the redhead. Hard.

"How long?" His voice sounded bitter against the relaxed scene.

"What?" Harry asked, his hand not leaving Hermione's head. For some reason, that made Ron even more jealous. Suddenly, his anger boiled over when Harry curled a strand of the witch's hair around his index finger. "How long has it been like this between you and Hermione? And don't you dare lie to me," he repeated through clenched teeth.

"Stay calm-" Hermione rose from the floor.

"Don't use that condescending tone with me, Hermione. I may have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but I am not dumb! Even I can see that there's something going on between you two; and it isn't only friendship!"

The young woman briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, unshed tears were visible. "You're right," she answered, sounding defeated. "There was no logical explanation, no plan. It happened. And there's no regret." Ron knew her words held nothing but the truth, hurtful as it was.

"What are you going to now, Ron? Running away again?" Harry stared at him unblinking, as if preparing for yet another duel, another fight for what was dear to him. But the question was - did Ron want to fight his friends? Risk losing them for what could be for good?

"Harry, that's unfair."

"Come on, Hermione, we knew it would get to this point. That's why we didn't say anything. Hell, that's why we didn't even say anything to each other! I'm not going to back down just because Ron throws one of his jealous temper tantrums."

"I'm afraid, Harry!" A yell broke free from Ron. "So fucking afraid that you two are going to leave me behind, okay?"

"It was you who left the tent when we were on the run!" Harry screamed back.

"I know. And I regret it so much. But I thought you'd leave me behind, you know? Living a good, happy life together and distance yourself from the stupid, leftover sidekick. I realise that part of that is only in my head, and mostly I can't even admit that, but…"

"We're all afraid. And damaged," Harry said after a pregnant pause. "But Hermione makes me feel whole again. She's my angel." His voice was much softer now, and he reached for her fingers, intertwining them with a practised move that showed Ron how blind he must have been.

She didn't even chastise Harry for his sappy pet name, but merely squeezed his hand. They were so obviously in love. Who was Ron that he would want to destroy this for selfish reasons after all Harry had been through? Hell, after what they all had been through!

"I'm done with running." Ron whispered, slowly unclenching his fists. A clarity settled in him, chilling as a winter morning, but strangely soothing. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't walk away for now." It was so easy to turn around and walk over to the door, liberating somehow, as if a big rock had been lifted from his heart. Though, it left a gaping hole in it for the time being. His hand was already on the handle when he looked back. Harry had gathered Hermione in his arms and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a soft smile playing around her lips.

"But, Hermione, do me a favour, yes? Don't ferret-punch me when we see us like you did last time I walked away." The witch giggled, giving him hope.

"You know you will always be my best friend, right?" Harry's chuckle, followed by this reluctant question convinced Ron that he did the right thing.

He moved out of Grimmauld Place one hour later and only returned to help Harry and Hermione move out when they bought a small cottage at the coast two months later. Susan Bones was there to help, too, and she smiled at Ron in a way that made his ears turn pink. Hermione playfully shoved him in her direction, and he didn't even feel a pang in his heart when she sat down on Harry's lap afterwards.

Yes, he had expected to get the girl. And maybe she had thought the same for a short while. But not every inference followed the carefully placed premises. Sometimes, the premises led to something unexpected. And such surprises were not necessarily bad, Ron realized.