A/N: As always, I do not own Harry Potter and Co. and am making no money from the writing of this story. Please review! Hope you enjoy!

Dead.

It couldn't be true; Fred, his brother. One-half of the infamous Weasley twins. Fred, who had been protecting and tormenting him in turns since before he could remember. Fred, who was always so full of laughter, of mischief, of mad ideas and dirty jokes and life. He couldn't be dead.

But he was.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Ron registered that things were still exploding around him, that shouts and colored lights still permeated the air. He was vaguely aware that he was inhaling smoke and dust from the collapse of the corridor, that it was coating the inside of his mouth. It was hard to breathe, but the gray, smoggy air had nothing to do with it.

Fred was dead. His brother's white, unmoving face was turned up to the sky, open eyes staring unabashedly at the ceiling, and Ron didn't know what to do. He fell to his knees, needing to touch, to be sure, but Percy was already there, holding Fred, shaking him...

A strangled sob wrenched itself from Ron's throat before he even realized he was crying. It felt as if the world had collapsed into this tiny space, into this few meters where he sat, huddled with his brothers, one lying lifelessly, the other sobbing into his hair. He was cold all over. Was the war still going on? Was there anybody alive out there? He felt as if he had been Stunned, paralyzed, removed from time.

There was a hand lying close to Fred's foot. Ron's eyes followed the arm up to a body, and from there to the partially-Transfigured face of the acting Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, one of the Death Eaters with whom Fred and Percy had just been dueling. Ron didn't know if he was alive, couldn't tell if his eyes were moving under their lids, if his chest was rising and falling... A sudden rage filled him, flowing through him hot and fast like a shot of firewhisky, and he groped blindly for his wand. Where had he dropped it, he needed it now, needed to be just as sure that Thicknesse wasn't breathing as he was horribly certain that Fred wasn't. Needed to make sure that bastard would never draw breath again. His hands scrabbled among the rubble, where was it, it was so hard to breathe-

His fingers encountered warm skin, and he felt the smooth, cool wood of his wand being pressed into his hand. He raised it, shaking, and pointed the tip at the unconscious Thicknesse, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him and he whirled, a snarl on his face.

It was Hermione, bruised, bleeding, and covered in soot, tears leaving clean tracks down her face. It was she who had found his wand, and now she was preventing him from using it. "What?" he snapped at her.

She gasped a little, startled and a little hurt. "Ron-"

"Fred's dead." he snarled at her. "Fred's dead, and they did it. I'm gonna kill them." Thicknesse was here, where had Rookwood gone? It had been Rookwood who cast the curse, Rookwood who caused the explosion, it was him that Ron needed to-

She uttered a little anguished cry. "Ron, wait, please-"

"I WON'T WAIT!" he roared back. "FRED'S DEAD, AND THEY DID IT!" Behind them, Percy was wailing, but Ron couldn't hear what he was saying, could barely hear anything but the blood pounding in his own ears. He trained his wand back on Thicknesse, but before he could get out the curse Hermione had grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in the other direction with surprising strength. "Let me GO!" he yelled at her.

"No!" she cried back. Her eyes left his for just a moment, looking over his shoulder, and he realized for the first time that Harry was there, and that he was helping Percy with- helping Percy move-

"Fred..." he choked out, and Hermione pulled him the rest of the way to his feet, tucking herself under his arm, half hugging him, half supporting him.

"I'm sorry, Ron." she murmured close to his ear. The corridors were filled with shouted spells, with the sounds of explosions, of screaming, but she was so close he could hear the tiny hitches in her breath, could feel it against his cheek. "I'm so sorry..."

A green light streaked through the chaos, missing Ron's head by so little that his hair blew back, and he stood bolt upright, eyes searching frantically for the caster, but Hermione gave another tug, pulling him behind a singed tapestry. He stared at her accusingly, enraged. She was shaking. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he hissed. "I wanna fight!" He made to pull back the tapestry and she leapt forward, grabbing him around the torso and pinning his arm to his waist.

"Wait, Ron, please." she pleaded, fresh tears streaming down her face now. "Calm down, you'll get hurt-"

"Calm down?" he repeated, white with rage now. "Fred is dead." With his free hand, he grabbed her upper arm, easily ripping her off of him and pinning her to the wall. "If you don't wanna fight, stay here, but get out of my way." He pulled back the tapestry again, ready to slip back into the fray-

"Don't leave!" Hermione shrieked, and he froze. "You promised you wouldn't leave me again! You promised!"

Something in her voice broke through the haze of grief and rage. "Hermione..." he whispered. She winced, still trembling, and Ron realized, sickly, that she was afraid. Not just of the battle and of Voldemort, but of him, of the way he was acting. He suddenly became conscious that he had a bruising grip on her arm and released her quickly, as if he'd been burned. "Hermione, I-"

Something in his eyes must have changed, because that was where she was looking when she gave a shaky sigh of relief. "Oh, Ron!" she breathed, winding her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

"I hurt you." he murmured, hardly trusting himself to return the embrace.

"I'm fine." Hermione promised, pulling back but keeping her arms around his waist. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry about... about Fred." she brought a hand up to cradle his sooty, tear-stained face. "But you have to keep it together. We can't lose you too. We can't. I can't." She looked guilty, as though this request was incredibly selfish. "Please. I need you. Harry and I can't do this alone."

So many emotions were warring inside him that he felt completely overwhelmed, but her earnest pleading touched something in him, something that swelled and grew and brought warmth coursing back into his limbs. Dimly, he was aware that he was in love with this woman, that he would do anything for her. Merlin, she was beautiful. Even bruised and crying and covered in blood, she was breathtaking; moreso, even, because it was times like these that her strength, her bravery, were clearly visible on her face. He'd always known she was smart, resourceful, kind, fair... How had it taken him so long to notice how beautiful she was?

Cupping her cheek with one large, dirty hand, he surged forward, kissing her deeply. There was just as much passion, just as much pent-up longing, in this kiss as there had been in their first. Had that first kiss, in the Room of Requirement, been less than an hour ago? It felt like forever had passed in the meantime. Fred had died, and death could be coming for them too at any moment, and they didn't have time, but Ron just wanted this one last moment with her, wanted one last chance to convey to her that he loved her, and that if he left her, it wouldn't be by choice.

Hermione stood on tiptoe, meeting his lips with matching urgency, then breaking away to pepper his cheeks and neck with kisses. "We don't have time..." she whispered regretfully against his skin, voicing his own thoughts. "Harry... the Horcruxes..."

Ron nodded. "I know." Taking her hand, he peered around the edge of the tapestry. Harry and Percy were depositing Fred in an armor niche in the wall. A wave of shock still rippled through him at the sight of the body, but somehow, he continued to function.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Will you be okay?" she murmured.

Ron didn't know if okay could ever be achieved again, not now, with Fred gone, and who knew how many others, but he squeezed her hand back, drawing his wand with the other. "I still wanna kill Death Eaters."

She nodded. "We'll beat them, Ron. We will." she said determinedly. She understood, she didn't think he was a bloodthirsty murderer. They would find the Horcruxes, would defeat Voldemort and his followers, and maybe life wouldn't be okay, but it would go on. There were still reasons to fight, not the least of which was the woman standing beside him, still holding his hand. "Stay with me?" she asked.

He smiled at her, actually smiled, just for a moment. "Only if you stay with me."

She nodded again. "Okay."

Together they emerged from the tapestry, coming face to face with Harry's white-lipped, resolute expression. They locked eyes. Harry couldn't seem to find the words to say. Ron tipped him a tiny nod of understanding.

Harry swung the Invisibility Cloak over the three of them, and Ron cast a last glance over his shoulder through its transparent folds. Percy had disappeared back into the battle. The body in the wall was barely visible, concealed, protected.

"Come on."

Hermione didn't look back, but her fingers laced into Ron's, and together they followed Harry into the smoke.