"Are you sure?" said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand.

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

Page 749, Deathly Hallows


They walked silently through the hallways, Harry hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. Hermione was tracing her fingers across the broken walls of the castle, the busted marble banisters, counting silently in her head the number of blood stains she saw. It was easier for her to quantify things rather than face it head on. There was too much emotional damage inside her to focus on all at once, better to focus on things outside her own head, things she could touch and feel.

She shivered unconsciously, in these early morning hours the cold air drifted in from the glassless windows and gaping holes—courtesy, she imagined, of the giants. Ron stepped closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders, she, in turn, put her arm firmly around his waist, marveling how easily these actions turned out to be, how well they both fit together.

She looked up at him then, a smile just on the brim of her lips, and saw him crying. Tears were rolling down his face, dripping from his chin. It was then that Hermione realized that this was not so romantic for Ron—he hadn't moved toward her in some gallant gesture to warm her up, he moved toward her because he needed to be comforted, he needed something solid that he could touch and feel too.

Hermione clutched at his sweater, "I'm here." was all she said reaching up and taking hold of his hand that hung over the ledge of her shoulder. He looked down and her and squeezed her hand.

Walking to Gryffindor Tower didn't take long; soon the trio was walking toward the hole in the wall where the Fat Lady use to be.

"She must be off celebrating," Harry's disembodied voice observed. With a little nudging at the crack the portrait had left opened, the three were able to slip into the tower unobserved. They quickly walked up to the seventh year boys dormitory.

"It's crazy to think that we would have spent the whole year in this room if life were normal," Ron said, letting go of Hermione's hand and walking toward a bed.

"I agree, we might have gone crazy," Harry replied.

"Not exactly what I meant."

"Ya, I know. I just don't want to think about it all right now," and with that Harry hopped into bed and let out a deep sigh. "Goodnight."

"Night."

"Sleep well."

After a while, Harry's soft, slow breathing could be heard. Ron took the opportunity to ask, "You want to sleep up here with us 'Mione?"

"Yes, I think so. I don't want to be by myself right now." Hermione twisted her fingers nervously. "It's just after everything that's happened, it would be weird to separate myself from you," she looked at Ron's eyes, then gazed at Harry's sleeping form, "from both of you."

Ron looked at her with a lopsided grin, "But me especially, right?" Hermione's head snapped toward him, red tinges on her cheeks; he took that as encouragement and continued as he walked toward her, "You know, because you kissed me and all."

Hermione blushed and looked down, "In my defense I thought we were going to die."

"So you thought you would kiss the first bloke you saw?" Ron asked, varying between amused and hurt.

"You know I wouldn't. And besides, you kissed me back," Hermione said, still feeling the foolish desire to defend herself.

Ron took a step closer.

Hermione looked up at his beautiful blue eyes, no longer moist with tears but not exactly happy either. There was a different kind of look: one almost asking to be comforted without verbally requesting the kindness.

"So, you like me huh?" Ron asked, that lopsided smile returning to his face.

"I thought we would be able to be mature about this Ron." Hermione said, smacking him playfully on the arm.

Ron caught her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, it was then that Hermione realized exactly how close Ron was to her; she found her body moving unconsciously closer to him in return.

"Me? Mature?" He grinned wider, "Never." He breathed, his voice much huskier than Hermione had ever heard it.

And with that he caught her mouth with his, pushing the small of her back with his other hand so they could be closer together. Their bodies against one another with only thin pieces of torn and bloody garments between them. They unlocked hands, allowing Hermione to lace her fingers through Ron's long, unkempt hair, and he to get his hands lost in Hermione's tangle of grimy brown locks.

This kiss was different from the first one. The first one was wonderful but sad at the same time. Hermione honestly thought it was going to be their first and last kiss. This one had a different type of urgency. This second kiss was better than the first because they had won and they both knew that there were going to be many many more kisses in their immediate future. This kiss was hungry for nothing else but to be fulfilled by lust—lust that had virtually taken seven years to boil over to a point of action.

They both wanted it, they both knew it, but they both also knew that this wasn't the time. Eventually, her back pressed against a wall that they had moved to without realizing it, Hermione stopped her hands from tracing over Ron's scared upper arms and he sighed at the loss of contact. He pulled his head back, his hands still firmly on her back and hip,

"Really?" he asked without offering what he was asking about but Hermione knew.

"We've been waiting for a while; we can wait a while longer."

Ron nodded, "Now that we have the time."

"Exactly," Hermione smiled.

"Bed?" Ron asked as if it was the most natural conclusion in the world.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "Sure."

Ron went and took his customary bed to the right of Harry, Hermione went to take the bed to the right of Ron, but Ron had a different idea.

"Wait?" he asked as he grabbed her hand and led her toward his bed, "sleep with me."

"Ron," Hermione began, looking, with her red swollen lips and blushed cheeks, as if temptation was the last thing she was going to be able to resist right now.

"Just sleep, I promise 'Mione."

"Ok," Hermione agreed, and with that they laid down on Ron's bed, hand in hand, Hermione's back against Ron's chest.

Ron kissed the back of Hermione's neck.

"Night Hermione."

"Goodnight Ron."


So, there you have it. I hope you all like this, if you do, and even if you don't, please leave a review--Thanks! I was going to make this whole scene go a lot slower, but Ron had other plans in mind, I think he couldn't wait to get his hands on Hermione again. But, as Hermione pointed out, he was doing some of it for the wrong reasons. Anyway, please review! Thanks : )