Disclaimer:
Although this work of genius may have the hallmarks of a classic, I am merely, to paraphrase Newton, “standing on the shoulders of Grawp�. All the imagination has come from a certain JK Rowling, and I have only siphoned a small amount to serve my personal whims. So all products of this superb imagination, in other words the characters, the setting and by and large the wizarding world in general belongs to her.
Thank you.

Rose Tinted Glasses

Ron lay atop the sheets, staring at the sleeping form of his fiancé. How long had he been awake? Well, he considered, none of it had been wasted, at least. Six weeks had passed since the death of Voldemort. All six of which they had spent holed up in Grimmauld Place. Protection, Harry had said, for it would be just like seventeen years ago. There would be the loyalists, out to finish the task that Voldemort had set them. There would be the cowards, those who had fled at the sign of the Lion’s Roar. Then there would be the unrequited attention from the media, when what they required most was a pause, a time to think. So they had waited, waited for a signal from the Order that sufficient time had passed to let them live their lives again.

Ron looked around at the darkened room. It was early, and light had only just began to permeate through the windows, illuminating the master bedroom in a cold, harsh grey light. Ron knew that only the true warmth of day could show the true character of the room. Grimmauld Place had been a necessary source of comfort during the Horcrux hunt. With Lupin as a Secret Keeper, security was not an issue. Harry had instinctively chosen Sirius’ room as his own, leaving Ron and…

A small sound reminded him of his true task. A long arm sought out his warmth and comfort, a pale arm that now rested gently on his shoulder. Looking at Hermione’s features, he could see a little colour had returned to her cheeks, and a smile played around those lips. The past months had been hard on both of them, and both knew that life would have been impossible, if not for the bond of love they had formed. In battle, they had been feared as much as Harry, for they fought as one, dodging with the dexterity of dancers, shielding each other with the strength of steel, and striking with curses that together were more than adequate.

Safe at Grimmauld Place, their relationship also deepened. With no one but the three of them in the house for long periods of time, and living with Harry who, as more of Voldemort’s soul was destroyed, became increasing tense and irate. Harry would often spend days alone in his room, deep in meditation, as they hurtled toward the final battle. Such a tension can often break a couple, but for Ron and Hermione, it was never a worry. They took comfort from themselves, always relaxed in each other’s company, bringing joy to those who witnessed their love.

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered open, and Ron once again saw the soft hazel eyes that no one else saw. Anyone who ever had known her remembered the fire and determination of her spirit. Even the Death Eaters granted her that. She always had the need, Ron mused, to be the best at everything she set her heart to. Never truly did she allow herself to relax. Only around Harry and Ron did she begin to unwind, and only now, while asleep in their shared embrace did the true warmth of her eyes shine through. Ron permitted himself a glance at her finely set nose, the way her hair parted across the pillow, the way she smiled only because she knew he was there.

Another movement from his betrothed signalled the end of his private musings. Hermione was beginning to wake up. She never quite understood the quiet care and silent concern that was written in his stare. Many a difficult question was raised at these ungodly hours, many a time the simple unflinching logic of love was too difficult to say or comprehend. Ron hoped that given time she could understand fully the enormity of his love, but for now he compromised by tearing himself away from true beauty.

They had been sharing a bed ever since the first victory on Halloween. After an epic three day chase, they had cornered the wings of Ravenclaw high atop the Grampian Mountains. When they finally had been able to return to Grimmauld Place, and after destroying the Horcrux that the wings had become, fatigue took over. They had both collapsed onto the double bed; their only desire had been sleep. Ron could still remember the thrill when he saw Hermione resting casually on his arm in the pale dawn of a November morning. Previous to this Ron had slept at the foot of the bed, on a spare mattress.

Ron lay still, pretending to be asleep. He was waiting for a jolt from Hermione, but it never came. Turning cautiously, he was thankful to see that Hermione was busy tidying her side of the bed. Propping himself up onto his elbows, he watched as Hermione finished up with the sheets and put on her dressing gown. Sudden warmth filled his body as he remembered that bliss filled week in the March before last, and the events that had followed.

Every day he had spent bedridden, recovering from his near death experience at the hands of Madam Rosmerta’s finest mead, in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. But every day had also been spent in the company of Hermione, who had visited him at every opportunity. Originally he had thought it was because she had been guilty over the way she had treated him over Christmas, but soon he had realised it had been more than that. Over the next five days apologies were given and received, tales from outside of Hogwarts shared, and friendly gossip passed on. Although, at the time, Ron hadn’t appreciated Hermione’s well thought out theories on Harry and Ginny.

By the end of the week Ron considered Hermione his closest friend, even above Harry. After this time they had spent the whole term dancing around each other, always claiming to be “good friends�. But yet again he saw that she would correct, and ultimately finish, his work with more care than, say, Harry’s, or even her own. It had taken Ron to the end of the term to realise what was happening. Ironically, it was an irate comment from Lavender that allowed him to realise the simple truth.

Smiling fondly to himself, he watched as Hermione walked serenely to the door, and towards their en suite bathroom. By now the sun had risen over the horizon, and true light entered into the room, casting a golden net into their bedroom. Ron’s gaze followed the dawn’s rays that bathed Hermione in a shinning aura of beauty. Her lightly tanned skin glistened in the pale light, and her dressing gown swayed seductively as she walked. She turned suddenly, and in a whirl of colour turned to stare directly into the eyes of her fiancé, with a glazed expression on her face that was half love and half confusion. Ron started, trying to place where he had seen that glance before.

“Honestly Ron, the way you look at that Hermione Granger, it almost feels like you are in love with her, not me!� Lavender shrilled.

“Nonsense,� Ron mumbled quietly, still staring up the staircase to the girl’s dormitories that Hermione had just disappeared to. Not for long though, for two hands grasped his face and wretched it towards their owner.

�For God’s sake Ron, I’m your girlfriend, not her.� Ron looked at Lavender pointedly. A warm feeling entered his mind as he finally understood all the events, all the signals and sparks between himself and Hermione.

He whispered under his breath something indiscernible, along the lines of “I’ll fix that.�

Lavender saw the fire of passion return to Ron’s eyes for the first time in weeks, and assumed if was for her. She was about to say something, but Ron cut her off.

“I’m sorry Lavender, but you are right, I am in love with Hermione Granger.� And without another word, despite the protests from Lavender, he sprinted towards the staircase without a moments hesitation. He knew that Hermione was the only person up there, so this would be the perfect time to catch her alone, so he could tell her the truth of his feelings. He attacked the stairs without hesitation, carried by sheer emotion and adrenaline. Almost immediately he reached the top, and rushed to a door marked “Year 6�. Knocking lightly, he waited for several minutes or years, he couldn’t tell, for Hermione to open the door. When eventually she opened the door, her face look almost half puzzled, the other half Ron now assumed to be love.

“Ron? What are you doing up h…� That was all she managed before Ron’s lips met her own. Stunned, she let the kiss deepen before eventually managing to push him away.

“How did you… the stairs…what are you doing… why did you…� she stammered, before Ron gently placed his finger on her lips.

“Shh, Hermione. I don’t know how I got up here, but what I do know is that I am happy to have succeeded. Hermione, I love you. I have for the last six years, and have been too foolish to see what has been in front of me the whole time. I don’t know if you love me, but any doubt and regret would be worse than rejection� He looked directly into her eyes, waiting for her response, but he was faced only with her stunned expression.

He turned to go, saying slowly, regret in every syllable, “I’m sorry I told you. You probably didn’t want to hear something like that from me. I’ll just go now.� His face was burning crimson, and it took all his strength to stop the tears.

“Ron?� he heard. Spinning on his heals he turned to stare back at Hermione, hope burning bright within his soul. “Ron, I never expected this. I love you, I only realised it myself when I heard you had almost been killed.� Ron felt a surge of triumph as he listened to Hermione’s sweet melody. “I just thought that since you were with Lavender you loved her, not me. I guess I was wrong though.� She smiled weakly, her face shinning with tears as Ron stepped toward her, slid his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a strong embrace. Ron kissed her hair repeatedly, emotion pouring out from his eyes.

They held themselves in each other in their arms for countless moments, before relaxing into a loose hug. Ron stared into her eyes, and they kissed, their tears flowing down and mingling together as one. Later, Hermione read an explanation for the staircase’s strange behaviour. A book, entitled Tales from Gryffindor Tower spoke of a legend dating back to the foundation of the school. When Gryffindor had bewitched the stairs to collapse if a male student touched them, legend had it that Gryffindor himself had said “if a man’s true love were atop that stair, and he had the courage and determination to find them, then who am I to stand in his way?�

As Ron returned to the present, he noticed that Hermione was no longer in the room. Panic stricken, he looked around, only to be calmed by the sound of water flowing through copper pipes. Hermione was taking a shower. Relaxing, Ron decided now would be best to make a move. He swung himself to his feet, brushed himself down and waited. Experience had taught him not to bother with making the bed, for he could never match Hermione’s impeccable standards. The water stop flowing, and excitement and anticipation built within him as he waited for Hermione. Every time he saw her it was like meeting her for the first time, every time he was struck by her radiance. And every time he was not disappointed. The door opened with a flourish, and Hermione stepped out, dressed in a towel, hair still dripping wet. The action was not lost on Ron, who just stood motionless.

Hermione did not seem to notice his apparent lack of appreciation, but Ron knew the truth. A tight smile was all the evidence he needed, the misted eyes confirmed his belief. This was an expression reserved for high emotion. Ron recalled fondly the last time he had caught Hermione looking at him in this way.

That day had been this year’s Valentine’s Day. Having borrowed money off Fred and George, having used Harry’s name to secure a top table at The Silver Dragon, and having come up with his greatest excuse to date in order to convince Hermione to take up his invitation, it was fair to say that a lot of work had gone into that night. That night, Ron had decided, had to be perfect. He had been planning it ever since they had found, and destroyed, the cup of Hufflepuff at Christmas. And perfect it was.

It started well, with Ginny spilling the beans so everyone and everyone’s brother knew what Ron had planned for the evening. Ron also managed to lose the directions for the restaurant; this being particularly important for a restaurant that is airborne constantly. For Valentine’s Day, The Silver Dragon was resting over Paris; thankfully, after frantic searching and summoning, they departed, hand in hand.

Upon arriving in Paris, they were in immediate danger. From getting extremely wet and cold, that is. Rain poured down in torrents, and there was no one apart from them foolish enough to brave the elements that night. They walked arm in arm, oblivious to the world around them, enjoying the mystic beauty of a Parisian evening. Eventually Ron found the ideal location, a small side street where no one would dare disturb them, and led Hermione down it. Ron pointed his wand skywards, and then, the heavens opened. As a curtain of rain removed them from the world, they felt themselves carried by the storm itself.

As they span through the darkness, Ron reached out for Hermione, grasped her arm and pulled her into his. Looking deep into her eyes, he saw fear subside as his strong hands provided comfort. He held his gaze, then as a sudden light illuminated the couple, he tightened his grip and laid his head upon her shoulder, as Hermione did likewise. They flew towards the light, and suddenly they were in a warm room, lit by flickering candlelight and magical flame. As patrons turned to look at the new arrivals, they were touched by the sight of the two teenagers, and a spontaneous applause was raised. Ron broke away, blushing, and he and Hermione shared a relieved laugh. Ron looked around, and then focused his attention back on Hermione. The warm candlelight danced around her rain soaked face, and every flicker revealed unseen beauty in her warm cheeks, her glowing eyes, and her shimmering hair. The waiters, dressed in silver dragon skin uniforms, rolled their eyes and with a wry smile, silently cast charms to dry the couples’ clothes as another waiter stepped forward, arm outstretched.

“Welcome to The Silver Dragon.�

The Silver Dragon was a restaurant like no other. Constantly airborne, it toured the globe providing fine dining and entertainment the world over. Charmed to look and feel like a storm cloud, this disguise allowed it to not only remain invisible to the untrained eye, but also provided cover for patrons to enter the restaurant. The Silver Dragon was powered by Thestrals, sixteen in total, and supported by very powerful levitation charms. Lastly, in an emergency, the restaurant could split itself in half to evade aircraft. It is the premier restaurant in the wizarding world, and entrance is by reservation only, hence the need for Harry to book the table so close to Valentine’s.

They were seated at a table overlooking the River Seine, giving breathtaking views along the waterfront. The first course was presented shortly, and what a course it was. In front of Ron was the finest dish he had ever seen- not to mention the smallest. Having grown up on Molly Weasley’s ‘healthy’ portions, Ron’s discomfort over his starter was obvious. Hermione had already started to delicately cut into the dish and eat, but when she caught Ron’s classic pose, eating had to stop for the laughing had taken priority. Ron was clearly struggling with indecisiveness, for he didn’t know if eating this work of art was the thing to do. He started to chip at the dish with his fork with little interest. Hermione could stand it no longer. Calling over a waiter, she whispered a small request into his ear. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the incredulous chef.

“Let me get this straight. You would prefer a butchered leg of a cow rather than my fine cuisine?� Hermione’s curt reply only served to infuriate the chef. Ron sat back for safety, as experience told him not to get involved unless wands were drawn. Watching Hermione argue in his defence was enthralling.

Eventually, after many frayed tempers, ruffled feathers, and bruised egos, Hermione had won through. The next course did not arrive as promptly, but in Ron’s memory it was worth the wait, as proper food arrived on his plate this time. Soon his stomach was heavy with satisfaction. But another thing was weighing heavy, and it was sitting in his pocket. When Hermione made her excuses between courses, he decided to take the thing out of his pocket. Much safer where he could keep an eye on it, he reasoned, lest it get away. His mind was telling him that now was the time, before dessert. That way, if she said no, then at least the evening would not end sourly.

Hermione had returned; she had retied her hair into an elegant knot, akin to that fateful ball over three years ago now, when Ron first saw Hermione as the woman she truly is. “Oh mercy,� he breathed; nothing could be more fitting. As a smiling Hermione sauntered back to their table, she caught Ron sweating profusely, and her smile dropped. Concern for her partner was apparent, that soon turned to anxiety when Ron seamed to slide off his seat and onto his knees. Rushing forward, Ron caught her hand and looked up at her. She tried to pull him up, but he was as heavy and unresponsive as lead. Ron felt like lead as well, almost sick to his stomach with nerves. The impact of hitting the floor with his knee also caused other patrons to turn; this couple had been of great amusement tonight.

Ron followed the contours of her blue dress robes to her eyes. Fumbling with the item in his left hand, his right managed somehow to connect with Hermione’s hand. Finding his voice was the next problem.

“Hermione� was the first word he spluttered, but as he spoke his confidence grew, thus his volume, passion and conviction followed suit. “Hermione, these last few months have been nothing short of exhilarating. We’ve been living life on the edge, and danger has been at every turn. And through it all, I know that there has been nothing to fear, because I know you are with me. Now my only fear is for your well-being. I know we haven’t been together very long, and I know we haven’t had time for a proper courtship, but – � At which point Ron was forced to take a breath, much to his annoyance. Steadying himself he grasped the small velvet box and placed it in his palm as he continued. “I was wondering if, you would like to…�

Ron knew that Hermione saw he was babbling. Her mind knew the truth that her heart denied. Ron waited for a sign from his beloved, which came in the form of a soft voice that no one else heard. “Get to the point, Ron�

Ron did as he was told. “Hermione Jane Granger, will you do me the honour of marrying me?� And with a deft flick of his left thumb, the box opened to reveal a golden band, which had a small diamond embedded in the metal. Ron looked at his girlfriend hopefully-soon-to-be fiancé, and he saw the tight lipped smile and wide eyes that told him his answer. Hermione was stunned. Somehow Ron always managed to surprise her. Suddenly she could feel the stares of the other diners, and she felt her mouth form a word that she had no control over. “Yes,� was all she could say. The rest was a blur; she could only loosely feel Ron placing the ring on her finger, the dim applause of the restaurant, and the sweet tasting desert she and her fiancé shared.

Yes, Ron thought, that certainly is my favourite memory.

Hermione had stopped staring at him and began to slowly walk to a pale blue dresser positioned across the room. Ron joined her, and watched as she robotically tidied her hair with her wand. She looked distant, aloof, not paying attention at all to Ron whispering into her ear. Why was she so hard to reach today? A horrid thought entered Ron’s mind. Hermione was beginning to come to terms with recent events. As silent tears poured from both Hermione and himself, Ron felt himself slipping into the recent past.

The trio had found and destroyed the locket at Easter, and it had been time to attack Voldemort. It had been a risky plan, for they were going to sneak into his secret kept house, located deep in the New Forest. Sacrifices had already been made for them to get this far, and they knew they would only get one chance. Voldemort’s secret keeper had been Snape, who finally redeemed himself when he broke an Unbreakable Vow in telling the trio’s Voldemort’s place of residence. Snape and Dumbledore had known the only way Voldemort would trust a follower with his life was if that follower had no life left. And thus by killing Dumbledore, Snape became the willing bait for luring Voldemort into the trap that had been planned for 18 years.

Entering the clearing, a rush of wind took them to a large circular antechamber, lit with green fires along the wall. Voldemort was waiting for them.

Then he disappeared; Ron felt a rush of wind behind him, and heard a strangled gasp. Turning, he saw Voldemort had seized Hermione by the throat, and pulled her into his arms. The two Apparated away to an unknown location. Ron looked around frantically. She was still inside the building, since it was impossible to apparate outside the building, the question was where.

Harry, however, was still. Suddenly he looked sharply at Ron, and bade him to be quiet. Listening, he and Ron caught the distant cry of the curse that Voldemort had cast. “Crucio,� echoed down the stone passageways. Ron paled, and then hot anger spurred him onwards. He sprinted like a man possessed along the corridor, Harry almost unable to keep up. They spotted Voldemort in a smaller chamber at the end of a passage way. One final sprint and they were at the entrance.

Hermione was cowering in a corner, panting heavily. Voldemort had not noticed them. “Crucio,� he said passively, as Hermione writhed in agony, pain so great that it was impossible to scream.

A door opened behind Harry and Ron, and Harry felt himself lifted by a stunning spell that had hit him in the small of the back. He crashed into the opposite wall, and was trapped after Wormtail imprisoned him using the full Body-Bind. Voldemort was momentarily distracted however, and Ron seized his chance. He ran to Hermione’s side, while Wormtail scuttled to the entrance of the chamber.

Voldemort, however, was merely amused by this interruption. “Do you think you can stop me, boy?� With a flick of his wand, he forced Hermione to jerk her head up and watch. “Avada Kedavra,� was all he said, and all Ron saw was a rush of green light before he closed his eyes

He felt a small thump underneath his ribs, and the heavy crash of something hit the wall behind him. He opened his eyes, and somehow he was still standing. Realisation hit hard and fast, for Hermione must have pushed him out of the way and taken the curse herself. Grief took over his body, pain and anger flashed through his being. Raising his wand to Voldemort, he screamed “Avada Kedavra!� But no sound was heard. Looking down at his hand, he saw no wand in those fingers. All he saw was a pale, ghostly blue fist. Turning, he saw a lifeless corpse, with red hair and freckles, cradled in Hermione’s arms. She was frozen with grief, unable to do anything but cry. Voldemort smiled. He stepped toward her, and again muttered that fateful curse.

Ron felt a surge of energy, fuelled by all his memories, his emotions and his grief; and all ignited by his love. A golden light surrounded him and Hermione. The green light rebounded as Ron somehow deflected it towards Wormtail, who fell suddenly as something green hit him hard in the chest. Hermione’s ring shattered as the light faded away.

“So, yet again love defeats me. You are lucky, little girl, for your lover protects you from me. But not from him.� With a flourish, Voldemort turned towards Harry, and was shocked to see him standing, in full control of his limbs.

Harry started to chant, anger apparent in every syllable. “The diary… The ring…The wings…The cup…The locket…The snake.� Both Harry and Voldemort looked pointedly at Wormtail. He had been knocked out by a very large and clearly dead snake. Nagini had been struck by the curse that had been intended for Hermione, and flown into Wormtail. Voldemort felt emotions in the pit of his seventh soul, emotions long forgotten, and fear took over his body as Harry shouted, “AVADA KEDAVRA!�

The rest was history. Harry watched the body of the darkest wizard ever to have soiled the earth crumple into oblivion.

Harry whispered “Vitamordre,�, the spell designed by the Order to signify the death or capture of a Death Eater. A golden lion leapt into the air and roared with ferocity unmatched. Soon, the whole order arrived and took Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s body back to Grimmauld Place.

And now here Ron was, back in the bedroom of Grimmauld place, his soul crying quiet tears as he silently embraced his fiancé. One last tight hug, he soaked up the warm aroma of Hermione’s perfume, the smell of her freshly washed hair, and then kissed her softly on the cheek as he whispered in her ear. “Hermione, its time for me to go now. But don’t forget, you will always have my love.� With these final words, he took a step back, and relaxed his spirit until he passed on. Hermione did not awaken, but her hand instinctively pressed where Ron had kissed her for the last time.

A/N Quote ripped directly from Goblet of Fire regarding Hermione’s hair (into an elegant knot). I figured might as well refer to the master for this description. My first Fan Fiction so please read and review. Also a big thanks to my beta reader, Defying Expectations. And apologies for the writer’s hubris at the beginning of the fiction, for when starting out I thought that writing fanfiction would be easy. That attitude lasted about a page.