A/N: This is purely drivvel. I'm obsessed with Harry Potter atm and I just wanted to write about Ron and Hermione. There's no real point to it, really. Just fluff. Just enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it.

Just one more thing...answer me one question. I know some of you don't know me personally but...do you think I'm a bad friend? Only, recently, I'm starting to believe that I am. I'm tarting to believe I belong in a cave with my guitar and my goldfish for company.

Anyway, enjoy

Welcome Home

Miss Hermione Granger was not one to think irrationally. All of her life, she'd always paused during a moment of crisis to think logically and plan the best possible route out of trouble. Of course, since she became friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, those routes rarely worked out. But despite their 'unique talent', as she laughingly called it, for getting all three of them in trouble, since becoming acquainted, and inevitably became friends, she was now known for being something other than the class know-it-all.

Before she had received her Hogwarts letter, her Muggle classmates were anything but kind to her. Not only did she have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the subjects taught, much broader than her colleagues' understandings, but things always happened around her. Strange things, things that she could never explain using the logic she relied on so much. These unexplainable things all became clear when she turned eleven and received her acceptance to study at Hogwarts.

It was when she found herself sat alone in Ron's bedroom that she began to wonder when things had changed. Over the past seven years, she'd broken school rules, battled trolls, and helped defeat things that she would've had nightmares about, had she been a Muggle.

But, it was more than that. She had first met Ron Weasley when she was eleven years old, on her first journey to Hogwarts. He had been sort of lanky, like his limbs were not quite in proportion with the rest of his body. His hair had been unkempt, he'd had some dirt on his nose, and he'd been surrounded by magical sweets; chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, and liquorice wands to name but a few. Now that she thought about it, Ron hadn't changed that much.

But she had. Or maybe she hadn't. It was difficult for her to understand. Ron was everything she despised: he was rugged, unkempt, he was late to classes an unbelievable amount of the time, he was moody and complicated. And yet, at some point during their seven years of friendship, she had begun to find those things positively...attractive. Maybe she'd always liked him and everything that summed up Ron Weasley. Maybe she was just a little late in realising it. She guessed that her feelings for him started shining through probably during fourth year, during the tri-wizard tournament.

Then again, Ron realised her feelings a lot later than she did.

She gazed around his bedroom, unusually tidy for her boyfriend. Although, she suspected that had more to do with his absence for a year, rather than him going out of his way to make it presentable. Posters of famous wizards and witches, Quidditch players, adorned every available wall space. There was only a small space above his bed which held personal pictures, memories that obviously meant a lot to him frozen in time. There were numerous pictures of members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in action, players on broomsticks flying past the crowds, focus completely etched on their faces. She spied a picture of Ron, Harry, Seamus, Dean and Neville. The five boys had spent seven years sharing a room. It was no surprise that they'd be friends for the rest of their lives.

There was only one picture of her, tucked in the corner. It was actually an awful picture of her. It had been taken on the Christmas morning, fifth year, that she'd spent with the Weasley's. Considering the drama concerning Arthur Weasley's attack a matter of weeks beforehand, it was no surprise that she looked rather pale and shook up in the picture. At the time when the picture was taken, she'd been rather chilly and had grabbed the nearest jumper which happened to be Ron's Christmas present; an oversized red sweater with a large R emblazoned on her chest. She watched the picture as her fifteen year old self kept looking from the R to the camera in shock at being caught on film.

She couldn't help but smile to herself. She knew there were much nicer, more complimentary pictures of her. But she suspected that Ron had chosen that one because it was his jumper she was wearing.

She heard music and laughter from downstairs. She supposed that there was every reason to celebrate. After seven years of battles and deaths and grief, Voldemort was finally dead. However, she was holding back. She kept thinking about Ron's face when he learnt of George's death. She knew that the Weasley's were celebrating Voldemort's death, but also George's life. They had cried, of course. But she knew that they were laughing now, discussing the antics that Fred had got up to over the years with the assistance of his brother. Hermione, on the other hand, had never had to confront death before. Not like this. Besides, in the Muggle world, it was common for someone to cry for weeks over the death of a loved one. She was unaccustomed to people celebrating a person's life instead of mourning their death.

But more than that, she honestly didn't know what to say to Ron. For seven years, he and Harry had relied on her to simply know things: to know how to correctly administer the Polyjuice potion, which spell to use in which situation...what to say at the right time. Right now, she didn't have a clue how to make Ron feel better.

She touched the faded white pillow with her fingers, thinking about how many times Ron must've rested his head there. If she closed her eyes and thought really hard about the boy, man, she mentally corrected herself, she loved, she could smell those wonderful smells of freshly mown grass, new parchment and spearmint toothpaste that clung to Ron wherever he was. And, of course, his hair. She knew the smell of his hair anywhere.

The door creaked open and Ginny gave Hermione a smile. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and returned the smile. "Of course I am. Perhaps a little overwhelmed."

Ginny came in and sat next to the older girl. "I suppose that's understandable. I mean, who wouldn't be overwhelmed. You helped defeat Voldemort and got together with my brother. Come to think of it, I'm not sure which is more overwhelming."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, it's rather difficult to decide."

Ginny paused. Ever since Ginny and Harry had got together and maybe even before then, she and Hermione had become very close, almost becoming the sister neither had had but had always wanted. "So why are you up here by yourself?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. After everything that happened, I guess I'm unsure how to approach your brother."

Ginny shrugged. "He's Ron. He'll be fine, I promise."

"Do you know where he is?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I think he's gone for a walk," Ginny offered quietly.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks."

Without another word, she made her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, heading out of the back door. She headed out to walk through field of tall crops which surrounded the Weasley's house. She remembered when she and Harry were still searching for Horcruxes. When Ron returned to her and Harry, she remembered how the redheaded boy claimed that Dumbledore's Put-Outer produced a ball of light and how he'd heard her voice, eventually leading him to herself and Harry. Ever since then, she and Ron had formed a sort of connection. It was like they both had radar, leading them to each other.

A few minutes of following a path in the crops, obviously made by Ron walking through it, she tripped over something on the ground, landing in a crumpled heap on top of...Ron. She lifted her head and brushed some of her wild brunette hair away from her eyes, letting a sigh escape her lips. "Ronald, why are you lying on the ground?"

He shrugged, his arms folded behind his head. He seemed unperturbed that she had fallen on top of him. "Looking at the sky." He caught her eyes. "Try it."

She sat up next to him and spent a moment retying her laces. "I've looked at the sky before."

"Really looked at it? Watched the clouds?" Ron asked.

She nodded. "I used to do it all the time with my mother."

The corner of his mouth twitched as he focussed his gaze back on the sky. "Seven years later and you still haven't learnt. That's the Muggle world, Hermione. Even the clouds are different." He let out a deep breath. "Lie down, Hermione."

She paused, unsure what to do. Never had she actually been ordered by Ron to do things. It was usually her ordering him to behave and stay out of trouble. Slowly, she lay down next to him. Upon instinct, they reached for the other's hand, lacing their fingers together. As per usual, his hands were clammy and sweaty. She didn't know if it was a result of nervousness or if he'd always had disgusting hands. She didn't mind. She loved it about him.

Shifting her attention to sky, she felt amazement swell in her stomach, the way it did when she learnt that she was a witch, the way it did when she found out something new about magic. She watched as a cloud shaped like an otter bounced around the sky. Another cloud, shaped like a leprechaun, was river dancing. Another, a dragon, was blowing small puffs of cloud, imitating fire.

"Wow," she breathed. "That's amazing."

He chuckled to himself. "Told you. The dragon's Charlie's, obviously, the leprechaun's Fred's because of his and George's love for the Irish in Quidditch."

"You mean...You all put spells on the clouds?" Hermione asked.

Ron smiled. "It's all us."

"Which one's yours?" she asked quietly.

"The otter," he murmured.

Hermione frowned. Although she hadn't had a clue of what he'd have chosen as his cloud, she couldn't think of a single reason why he'd pick an otter. "Why?"

He leant up on an elbow to look down at her. "Your Patronus is an otter." He shrugged. "It makes me think of you." He sat up straighter and pointed his willow wand at the sky. A moment later, the otter shaped cloud had disappeared. He turned back to her. "So what brought you out here?"

She sat up and brought her knees to her chest. "Looking for you."

"What did I do?" he asked. The instant panic he felt caused his voice to break at the end.

She smiled to herself. "I can see why you'd presume that you've done something wrong. Your past does speak for itself." She looked at him. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just wondered if you wanted some company? I haven't seen you much since we got back from school."

He nodded. "I'd love some company. I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately. You know, about George."

Hermione couldn't help fiddling with her fingers. "I'm not sure what to say."

Ron touched her cheek and sent her a small smile. "Don't worry."

She shook her head. "I always know things. I just don't know how to make it better."

Ron wrapped his arm around her and cradled her to his chest. "You don't have to," he whispered. "You hear all of that laughter? They're remembering him for all of the right reasons. I mean, we all miss him. But there's nothing for you to make right. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

She nodded and gave him a smile. "I get it. So why were you out here?"

He shrugged. "It seemed right. Besides, Harry and Ginny were together in there and although I have nothing against it, it's weird."

Hermione let a ring of laughter slip between her lips. "Ronald, don't worry about either of them. They can take care of themselves."

Ron nodded and stood up, taking a moment to brush down his trousers. After a moment's thought, he held his hand out to Hermione. He helped her to her feet and quirked an eyebrow. "Besides, Harry keeps teasing me about seeing us holding hands."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose that's a given. After seven years, we finally got together. I don't know why considering you're stubborn, you're unorganised and you're always covered in something." She plucked a few pieces of hay from his hair. She sighed as she dropped them to the floor. "Will you ever change?" She turned around and headed back to the house.

He hurried after her, falling into step beside her. "No. And you wouldn't have got with me if you wanted me to change. But what about you? Even after seven years, you're still a stuck up know-it-all."

She rolled her eyes as she opened the back door and stepped inside to where the festivities were in full swing. "And how many times has my being a know-it-all saved you from getting killed?" Without waiting for a response, she marched over to where Seamus was currently attempting to make the piano play music by itself. She touched his wrist. "Seamus, considering your track record and your love for pyrotechnics, do you think I should maybe do it?"

Seamus sighed and shrugged. "Be my guest."

With a wave of her wand, Hermione successfully cast a spell on the piano and the keys started pressing down by themselves, letting a light, up tempo song fill the house. She turned around to see Ron holding a plate piled high with food, a chicken leg hanging from his mouth. She crinkled her nose in disgust. "Ronald, can't you eat like everyone else?"

Despite his mouth being full of food, he grinned at her and shook his head.

She rolled her eyes and leant against the wall, watching him devour the chicken leg the way a savage animal would. And yet, she felt a smile tug at her lips. Because despite how he was basically a bottomless pit and ate food in the most disgusting ways, she was still in love with him and she wasn't sure that she would be if he ate like a normal human being.

A loud squeak, followed by an angry hiss rang through the house as a rat ran towards Ron, followed by a cat with far too much fur.

Ron hurried to put his food aside and rushed to pick the rat up. "Maxi," he cried. "Are you okay? Hermione, your pig with hair was attacking him again." Maxi was a replacement rat, now that they'd all finished school, after Scabbers turned out to be Wormtail. Maxi had more or less been a congratulatory present for Ron actually completing his education at Hogwarts and for, you know, helping to defeat Voldemort.

Hermione frowned as she picked the cat up, cradling him to her chest. "Crookshanks can't help it, can he?" She kissed the cat's head. "I've told you before, Ronald: look after your pets better."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Just because you bought a freaky, blood-thirsty beast," he protested. "You might as well have bought a vampire with fur."

Hermione looked Crookshanks in the eyes. "Don't you listen to the silly boy. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

They were distracted from their argument by Arthur Weasley entering the house, Mr and Mrs Granger laughing at something he'd just said as they followed. Hermione smiled at her parents. She'd been grateful when Arthur had made an inquest in the ministry and had found her parents, letting her successfully reverse the memory charm she'd put on them.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Dad, leave Mr and Mrs Granger alone. I'm sure they don't want to be talking about rubber ducks again."

Mr Granger laughed. "Ah, Ron, isn't it? We love talking to your dad. Even seven years after receiving Hermione's acceptance letter, we're still fascinated by your world."

Mrs Granger nodded in agreement. "We're just as fascinated by your world as your father is by ours."

Arthur grinned. "Wait until you see our kitchen." He began leading Mr and Mrs Granger through a nearby doorway, near the clock which showed the Weasley children's whereabouts.

Hermione sighed when she saw Ron slip Maxi into his pockets and turn back to the mountain of food he'd accumulated. She smiled when Harry came and stood next to her. He didn't say anything. Instead, they watched Ron eat for a moment. It was like watching a horror movie: it was fascinating and intriguing, both Harry and Hermione wanted to keep watching, but at the same time it was also rather disgusting.

Harry nudged Hermione's elbow. "You're mad at him," he murmured.

Hermione smiled as she set Crookshanks on the floor and watched him skulk away. "I'm always mad at him."

"I was talking about Crookshanks," Harry joked.

Hermione laughed. "No, him I'm not mad at." She shuffled her feet. "I suppose you figured out about Ronald and me."

Harry laughed. "Hermione, I figured it out about a day after you met me and Ron."

Hermione blushed furiously and took her wand out of her back pocket. She gave it a simple wave in Harry's direction and his underwear was yanked up, giving him a hell of a wedgie. She watched with satisfaction as he groaned with pain and discomfort, and hurried to pull his underwear back to a comfortable position.

"Merlin's pants," Harry exclaimed. He held a hand to his heart as he attempted to regulate his breathing. "No pun intended," he muttered. "That wasn't necessary."

Ron pointed a half-eaten chicken leg at him. "Wedgie?"

Harry nodded. "Hell yeah."

"I'm sorry," Hermione murmured. "When Ronald said you were teasing, I thought he was being a drama elf."

"Hey!" Ron protested through a mouthful of food.

Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust again. "Ronald! Weren't you taught how to eat with manners?"

Ginny rushed up to them, looking flustered. "Hermione, Fred has Crookshanks. He's trying new products on him."

Hermione sighed. "Again?"

Harry watched as Hermione headed outside with Ginny. He looked down at his shoes, mulling over something that had been bugging him ever since he killed Voldemort. "Hey Ron?" he asked.

Ron muttered an incoherent response and when Harry looked at his best friend, he found out why. Ron was chewing through a bread roll, a turkey drumstick and he was pretty sure an entire potato was somewhere in the mix, too.

Harry raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Do you remember when Ginny was with Dean for a time?"

"How can I forget?" he muttered.

Harry frowned. "You said that you automatically hate a guy who's with your sister." He paused. "Do you hate me?"

Ron put his plate on the coffee table and wiped his hands on his trousers, leaving dark, greasy stains there. "Well, I thought about it. Which is something Hermione advised me not to do."

"I don't like where this is going," Harry muttered.

Ron smiled and shrugged. "I sat down and wrote down every reason I had to hate you and every reason I had to like you." He paused to look Harry directly in the eye. "Hermione said if I was going to do it at all, I had to do it logically, strategically and in a coherent order. Her words, not mine."

Harry smiled. "So what did you come up with?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, considering that you being with my sister counts as fifty reasons to hate you," he paused and gave Harry a small smile, "there are still a hell of a lot more reasons to like you."

Harry grinned and they immediately embraced, just like Ron would've hugged any of his brothers. Ron could remember the first day they'd met at King's Cross station. Harry had looked nervous, and out of place. If Harry hadn't approached and asked Molly how to get on Platform 9 ¾ , Ron wondered if they'd have met. Although his school record was perhaps coloured with a few detentions because of Harry's inquisitive nature, he supposed he would've received detentions for one reason or another without Harry's help anyway. The last seven years of his life had been scary and Ron had probably had more near-death experiences than most people had in a lifetime. Harry might as well have just been another brother.

The sound of laughter caused the two men to pull apart to see Ginny and Hermione standing there. "Were we interrupting something?" Ginny asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He noticed Hermione's laugh dying down and she took a sudden interest in her fingers. He reached for Ginny's hand and gestured to the lounge area. "Let's go and find Fred. No doubt he's getting up to something."

Ron watched Harry lead Ginny away before he reached for Hermione's hand. "Do you want to step outside?" He led her out of the back door and silently invited her to sit on the back steps. He held her hand in his lap for a moment.

Hermione glanced across at him and sighed. "It seems strange, doesn't it?"

Ron rubbed his thumb in soothing circles on her palm. "What does?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Everything. Us leaving Hogwarts. Harry finally killing Voldemort. It's a good kinda strange, though. It's like everything finally has the chance to work out."

Ron smiled and nodded. "It does." He paused. "Do you know what you're going to do now? Do you know if you're going back to live with your mum and dad?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I mean, I'll visit, obviously. But how can I leave when I've seen this place? Besides," she whispered, "your dad has got me an internship at the Ministry."

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

She shrugged. "In the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I want House Elves to be treated fairly and this is the perfect opportunity for me to start that."

Ron smiled to himself.

"What?" she cried indignantly.

He shook his head and looked across at her. "That career choice is so typical of you. And that's a good thing," he added hastily. "Do you know where you'll stay?"

She shrugged. "I haven't a clue."

"You do know that Mum won't let you leave until she's approved the place you're moving to, right?" Ron asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione giggled and nodded. "I suppose I should've expected that." She paused. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'll probably help Fred with the shop for a while but I honestly don't know."

She nudged his shoulder. "Whatever you decide, you're going to be great at it, I promise."

Ron leaned closer to her, closing the gap between their lips. He was about to press his lips to hers when Fred pushed his way between them, sitting down on the back step. "Hey, do you guys want a sandwich?" He stuffed a platter of white bread under their noses.

Hermione shook her head stiffly and then looked down at her feet. Ron, meanwhile, glared at his older brother. "No, Fred," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care what you've put in them but we're not eating them."

Fred looked between Ron and Hermione. "Did I interrupt something?"

Hermione faked a smile and shook her head. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, well in that case, I'll stay here," he exclaimed.

Ron dug his heel into Fred's foot. "If you don't leave this second, I'm telling Mum where her Gilderoy Lockhart books disappeared to."

Fred instantly paled and stood up, the platter in hand. "I'll leave you two alone."

Ron shuffled back to Hermione so that their hips were touching, automatically reaching for her hand. "The curse of having a big family."

She smiled to herself, looking up at the stars that were starting to shine in the sky. "I think it's wonderful." She looked across at him. "I grew up as an only child. I think your brothers and Ginny, of course, are amazing."

"They can be a little annoying sometimes," he murmured. He turned back to her. "It's really over, isn't it?"

She nodded and let a smile spread across her face. "It's all over."

He returned her smile, letting a moment of peace settle over them both. "We'll be okay, you know."

She nodded. "I know."

"And I hope we'll be together for a really long time," he admitted.

She squeezed his hand. "After everything, I don't think we have a choice."

"Welcome home, Hermione," he whispered. He leaned in, closing the gap between them, and sealed his promise with a kiss.