Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, neither are any titles that I wish to steal from Shakespeare.

Morning r o s e s newly washed with d e w

-

Neptune: sea, temper, horse, earthquake, blue

-

She doesn't like the beach. At least, not really, because it's hot and the sand sticks to her feet, uncomfortable like the waves that spray her, stinging her eyes red and irritated. But then there is ronandthebeach, where the sand doesn't bother her as much and the water is a lot more cooling than it used to be. Or maybe it's just Ron, splashing clumsily into the onrushing waves with his far too long limbs and his smile cheerful, young, and silly (which he isn't so much of anymore, but it's nice to play pretend if only for a little bit). He drags her along into the sea, she's protesting (not really) because she doesn't want to get that wet, so he gathers her up in a fireman's carry and he's tall, tall, tall, maybe she's really riding upon a horse except that she doesn't like riding horses and this isn't so bad. Not that she lets him know that; she pounds against his back Let me down, let me down! and he is laughing so hard (or maybe she is, it doesn't make a difference at this point), collapsing into the sea. Ronald! she shrieks, tumbling down like Humpty Dumpty but she's not going to break because she lands on her bum on the sand, the waves still crashing upon them and Ron is right there next to her. He's not laughing anymore, though, and he looks at her a little too intently and she begs him with her eyes to laugh and be silly again, let me forget can't you understand that? she doesn't say, his eyes blue, blue, blue so she must be drowning because that is all she sees…

…Except for the freckle,

right there below his eye or is it next to his nose? It's darker than all his other freckles, and it's her favorite, not that she ever told him that because it would make him self conscious and he would sulk or mope. She hates it when he does that, and maybe it would be easier for her to deal with him sometimes if his temper would just allow him to rage and scream like Harry, except Harry doesn't do that anymore because Harry is a grown-up and isn't she older than him? She's not jealous, just tired and frustrated; she's been to more funerals than she can count (but she's meant to be clever, so of course she can count that high) and they always talk about how terrible it is for the family of the deceased, or how noble their death was and Harry sits there so guiltily but he's an adult, how did that happen? And then there's Ron saying But Hermione, I'm glad to be alive, I really am so maybe he gets what it's all about better than the rest of them, even when he is next to Fred's grave, smiling because that is what Fred would want. He's probably rolling around in his grave with all the melodramatics going on, why I bet he is creating an earthquake down there, and they laugh right there at the cemetery, it's not even that funny but she's so relieved that he's talking about it even if his laughter is marred by the tears rolling down his face, or is it water from the sea where she should be drowning but isn't (but his eyes, blue, blue, blue) and for a moment she considers kissing the water droplets away, and then laughs harder…

…Because what a ludicrous and perfect thing to do.

A/N: Well this was done for the planetery prose challenge, though I think that half-way through I kind of forgot about that. Bad me. It's meant to take place shortly after the Deathly Hallows in case you couldn't tell. This also has some unholy and monstrous run-on sentences, but I kind of like the rambly feel so I left them. Oh, and sorry for the formatting, it looked better on Word. Anyway, read, review, and enjoy!