Hey, guys :) 30th story here! Yay! Of course, it's a Romione. Do I write about anything else at the moment? :L Enjoy!

Ron blinked in the harsh light of the morning. No one, it seemed, had got round to shutting the curtains last night. He sat up, and rubbed his blurry eyes until the world came back into focus. He looked around, and suddenly he realised where he was. His dormitory.

His dormitory?

Gradually, the memories of yesterday came back to him. Piece by piece, he remembered the final duel between Harry and Voldemort, the moment Neville had killed the snake, Snape's death, Fred's death…Fred's death.

It hit him all over again, and he felt the pain crash onto him as he remembered his brother's unseeing eyes in that pale face, his mouth still curved in a smile. He let himself cry for a few minutes, wallowed in sorrow, and then told himself he had to get up, had to be strong, had to help Harry and Hermione as they faced what was left of the wizarding world. He sighed, and flopped back into his pillow. It would be a long, long time until everything was back to normal again.

Suddenly, he heard a quiet moan, as though someone was waking up. But Harry was the only other person in the dormitory, and Ron could see he was still fast asleep. He turned over, looking for someone else, and started. Hermione was lying next to him.

Confusion filled his head, and then suddenly a crystal clear memory from yesterday hit him like a physical blow.

He had kissed Hermione.

His heart seemed to leap out of his chest just thinking about it. How unexpected it had been, and how wonderful. He had dreamed about it often enough, but never had he imagined it would be his defence of house elves that would finally bring them together. He remembered the confusion of seeing her run at him, and then the pure ecstasy of realising that she was kissing him, that she wanted to kiss him, that all his dreams were finally coming true.

Now he recalled faintly that last night, he had woken for a minute as someone had climbed into his bed. He hadn't slept for so long that fatigue had overtaken him quickly, and he hadn't even thought about who it might be. But now he realised, to his astonishment and jubilation, that Hermione, the beautiful, intelligent, maddening girl he had been in love with since second year had sought out his company when presumably bad dreams had driven her from her own bed. He was the one she wanted to lie next to, he was the one she wanted to see if she woke from nightmares. Not Harry. Him.

'R-Ron?'

He heard her yawn, then roll over. And suddenly he was staring into those overwhelming chocolate eyes.

He had absolutely no idea what to do.

She smiled at him.

'Hey.'

'Hey.' he replied, and in an effort to appear in control of the situation he brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. This seemed to have the desired effect, as her breathing hitched for just a second and she went slightly pink. He smiled back at her, then said, 'Er… you alright, then?'

As soon as the words had left his lips, he wished he hadn't spoken. It was possibly the most unromantic thing he'd ever said. He could feel the tips of his ears glowing pink.

'Yeah,' she said. 'You?'

'Well… yeah, but – the whole Fred thing… you know.' He felt his eyes fill with tears again. Her expression immediately became both upset and concerned, and she touched her hand to his cheek. He felt ashamed that, despite the raw grief he felt, he still reacted so strongly to any physical contact from her.

'You do know, Ron, I'm here, whatever happens. Don't you?'

He nodded, a tear sliding down his cheek. He felt angry with himself; he'd done his crying this morning, hadn't he? Cleared it up so he could be strong today? And yet here he was, reduced to an emotional mess in front of the one girl he loved more than anything.

She put an arm around him, pulling him closer, and he sobbed into her shoulder for a little while. When he looked up, puffy-eyed and blotchy, he saw that there were tears on her face too. He wiped them from her face, and then as if it had been planned beforehand, their lips gently, softly met.

A first kiss is usually full of disbelief and shock, excitement and enthusiasm. A second kiss allows for exploration, slow at first but increasing, with time for expression and understanding. Ron could taste tears and sadness on Hermione, but also joy and happiness at winning, at living and somehow, inexplicably, at him. He knew he would never understand why she returned his feelings, but the fact that she did was beyond anything he'd ever hoped.

The next few years would be the hardest he'd ever experience, he knew. But with Hermione by his side, he was certain of one thing.

He would survive anything.

Thanks for reading :) Please review and stuffs (yeah, I know, I beg on every story) :)

Iliketotastetherainbow x