Ron/Hermione – set in the summer after DH. My memories of that book are a little sketchy, so apologies for any inaccuracies! I don't own HP. One-shot, in which they just lie and talk … reviews, as ever, are appreciated.

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The sun was suspended high in the August sky, an orb of dazzling yellow. Moths and other winged, minuscule creatures flitted to and fro against the backdrop of the cobalt skies, amid heads of corn and golden dandelions. Dust and relaxation and peace hung in the air, the only noises the calls of the grasshoppers and the swish of the greenery. A girl and boy lay side by side amid the tall grass, hidden from view, the shape of the ground moulded to their bodies. They were spending time lazily, talking and laughing; holding hands, the summer having begun two moons ago and still stretching on out of sight.

In the past few weeks since the fall of the Dark Lord, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had been feeling slightly at a loss as to what to do with all of their time. The administrative, technical stuff could only be sorted out by people like Arthur, and school wouldn't start again until September; they were well aware that they'd have to return in order to sit their NEWTs, but until then, all they could do was enjoy their freedom and liberty. Thus far, much of their time had been occupied playing Quidditch, lying in the grass and talking (just like today), and, as ever, coming to terms with the fact that, in spite of their victory, there was still so much they'd lost.

"You miss him, don't you," had been the first thing Hermione had said when they'd stolen some initial precious moments together in the Burrow. It had been a statement, not a question – of course Ron longed for the teasing comfort of his older brother. George was like an incomplete half now, and Angelina was still inconsolable. The rest of his family had grieved at the funeral, but the loss was still so clearly etched upon their tired faces. They'd gained Percy, but lost Fred. "At least he died a hero" – those had been the words of all wishing to console the Weasleys, but it still wasn't enough. Why couldn't he have lived a hero? Ron had merely leant his head on Hermione's shoulder, past tears.

There'd been so much to celebrate, yet so much loss. Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, even Colin Creevey. Every day the wizarding world made another discovery of someone who had died the death of a hero for the rest of the world's sake. The only comfort was they knew all it had been worth it. Even so, sometimes that made it even harder to bear.

A white butterfly fluttered across the air, landing on the tip of a foxglove.

"I just still can't believe it's all over." Hermione voiced their obvious feelings; even now they were lost in the anti-climax of what had happened.

"I know. Don't you feel like there's something we should be doing? "

Hermione cast him a sideways look.

"Oh, not like that. You know… we've always been so preoccupied with – Voldemort –" Ron still felt slightly uncomfortable mentioning his name – "y'know, sorting stuff out and all, and now it's all done with."

"There are still other dark wizards, you know. He wasn't the only one. There are numerous death-eaters still left, wanting to avenge his death. And they're hardly likely to leave the likes of us alone. No, I think we'll have quite a lot to do from now on!"

"I'm glad we can do it together."

Leaning over, he tucked a stray chestnut curl behind her ear and kissed her.

There would be a lot more of this from now on …

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