A/N: I haven't written anything for a few weeks, so what better to return on than a post-war Romione? This is for Ella (ink teardrops) as part of the Gift-Giving Extravaganza - I hope you enjoy it!

The early morning sun shines warmly. It's clear that in a few hours it will be a blazingly hot summer's day, but some of the cool from the night remains, so the sun's gentle beam is inoffensive. The sky is a bright, clear blue; birds sing bright, cheerful melodies. The atmosphere is perfect for clearing one's head.

Such an atmosphere does not seem like Ron Weasley's natural habitat.

"Ron!" Hermione greets him, surprised to discover him out in the garden of the Burrow so early. Taking morning walks has always been a habit of hers, but she's known for Ron to be all but dragged out of bed by his mother three hours later than this. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, hi Hermione," he says, yawning widely. "I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Thought I'd come out here and get some air, think about… stuff."

Hermione nods slowly. She's half tempted to ask what he means by "stuff", but she feels like she's intruded on a very private moment. Maybe she should have gone back into the house and pretended she didn't see him. It's only weeks after the end of the war – "stuff" could mean an awful lot of things. But she can't turn back now, so she rather clumsily changes the subject.

"It's lovely out here," she comments in what she knows is a feeble attempt at starting conversation. "All the trees, and the flowers… I always wanted a big garden when I was little."

Ron's ears start to go red, as they usually do when people show envy of him. "Hey, it's not that great. Infested with gnomes, for one thing."

"I actually love the gnomes," Hermione tells him, giggling. "Crookshanks loves them even more. Hey, remember that summer when your mum made us de-gnome the garden? You, me, Harry, Fred and Geo—"

She stops abruptly; Ron's head made a funny jerk when she mentioned Fred.

She sighs, wishing that everything could go back to how it used to be. "Ron?" she begins timidly. He doesn't say anything, but she can tell from his posture that he's listening. "You know, if you ever want to talk about… stuff, then I'm here."

He looks up and nods. "Of course. I… I'm just not sure I know how to talk about… stuff."

There's a tiny blob of toothpaste left on his chin, and that, combined with his words, makes Hermione feel like she's gone back to when they were eleven. He used to walk around with it smeared halfway across his face some days. But they've been through so much since then. "There isn't a set method," she says, exasperated. "I'm your girlfriend. You can tell me anything."

"I know," he says, and a tiny smile stretches across his face at the concept, but he avoids her eyes. "I just can't find words."

"You can be yourself around me, Ron. Just say what's in your head."

Ron seems to be having some kind of internal struggle. "Fine," he says eventually. "You know that letter that came for us yesterday?"

"The one from school?" Hermione thinks she knows where this is going. The letter invited Harry, Ron and Hermione to return to Hogwarts to complete their NEWTs, and Ron has seemed distant ever since.

"I don't think I can go back, Hermione."

Hermione nods. "Go on," she prompts. She doesn't want to pass judgement until she's heard his reasoning.

"I know you want to get the NEWTs and everything, but that's not so important to me," Ron confesses, looking guilty. "I'm not the same person I was when I was at Hogwarts, and I don't think I can just go back and try to pretend nothing's happened in the past year."

Hermione is quiet for a moment. "I think that's… sensible, Ron," she tells him finally.

Ron looks flabbergasted. "But you're Hermione Granger! You can't just tell me it's sensible to leave school!"

She laughs. "School is important, but it's not the most important thing. I didn't try and persuade Harry to stay last year, did I? Going back might be the best thing for me, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's the best thing for you."

"I really thought you'd be angry with me," Ron says in wonderment.

"Of course I'm not," she says, rolling her eyes. "I actually considered not going back myself. Maybe it's like you say – we're not the same people we were a year ago. Maybe there are other things you could do instead."

Ron looks uncertain. "I was thinking about working in the shop with George. Not forever," he says hastily. "Just for a year or so, for enough time to get it up and running again. I don't think George will have the motivation to do it by himself. Not without Fred." His voice cracks on the last sentence.

"That… sounds like a pretty amazing thing to do, Ron," Hermione tells him. It would be awful to think of Fred's life's work going to waste, and she thinks that Ron is right – George won't want to do it. He's taken Fred's death hard, and there will be so many reminders.

"But I'll miss you, Hermione," Ron says, reaching for her hand and gripping it tightly. "In fact… I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You'll be fine. Don't be silly."

"No, seriously," Ron insists. "I need you. You're my escape. From, you know… everything."

And Hermione knows what he means. When she's alone with Ron, it's like they're the only two people in the world. She doesn't need to brood or grieve or worry about what to do next. Everything's simple.

"I know what you mean," she sighs. "But I don't have to be just that, Ron. We don't just have to use each other to escape from the world. We'll have to face up to things at some point, and it'll be a whole lot easier if we do it together."

"I know. I know we do," Ron says, sounding almost hopeless. "But I just wish this summer didn't have to end. Some of it's been hard, like rebuilding the castle, and the… funerals. But I get the feeling that there's still more hard stuff to come."

"I think you're right," Hermione tells him. They'd got through the first stage, but soon they'd have to try and carry on with their lives as if nothing had happened. "But for now, all we can enjoy the time we've got left of the summer together."

Ron puts his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. "I can think of one way I'd like to spend that time," he says teasingly.

She never thought she'd be one of those girls, one of the ones who practically swoons just at a man's touch – but Ron Weasley does things to her. So she says something she's been contemplating for a while. "Hey," she says, trying her best to sound seductive, but she can't stop her voice from shaking a little from nerves. "I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind sleeping in Ginny's room tonight."

Ron takes a step back from her abruptly. "No way! Ginny's not sleeping with him," he objects, to Hermione's relief – she thought that had been a reaction to the suggestion of her sleeping with Ron. "She's too young."

"She's almost seventeen," Hermione points out, rolling her eyes. "She's only the year below us." She resists the urge to add and it's not like they haven't done anything before; there are some things that boys do not need to know about their little sisters.

The struggle between Ron's overprotective brother side and his eager boyfriend side was amusing to watch on his face. "Are you sure you want to?" he asks slightly reluctantly. "We don't have to, you know. Not that I don't want to, as long as you want to."

"Yes. I want to spend a night with you, Ron," she insists, "even if it turns out to be just sleeping we do. We'll see." The war has left her with an uncharacteristic desire to live dangerously – it's taught her that life is too short to worry.

"We'll see."

A sad silence falls between the two of them as they remember all that has passed. They've made the first step, and yet there is still more to deal with. But they know that they have each other to hold on to, for a while at least, and that thought makes the future seem that little bit less daunting.