You never know when it’s going to hit you, that moment of clarity, of realisation that what you’ve always wanted sat a stone’s throw away from you at every meal.  No, it was definitely not anything one plans, but when it does, well . . . you know how it is. It might even have changed your life.

Her hair was even madder than ever, and she’d never looked so beautiful. Even with the filth of battle clinging to every visible inch of flesh, there was something about her that stole your breath. Maybe it was because she was still standing tall despite the wound on the side of her head slowly drizzling blood. Maybe it was because she had managed to save your arse when she didn’t think you were looking.

Maybe it was because she was walking straight toward you with a smile you could happily drown in. Smiles were scarce those days.

“H-hi.�

Not your best moment. But that might be what you liked about her most: the dumbest things could come out of your mouth, but she never thought they defined you. Even though you could never quite wrap your head around it, she had always thought you were cool.

She’s not usually one to sleep in, but it almost seems like a gift today. Her hair -- that hair of hers, its indescribable colour woven with silver -- is splayed across her pillow and on your shoulder in an almost perfect disarray. Your breath quickens when you remember the night before, hands buried in those locks as she murmured the one thing that propelled your ardour the most. After all the years and all the hell and all the loss, that one short phrase is still the biggest thing in your entire world. Who knew the sound of your name could be so sodding sexy.

Quietly taking your hand, she pulled you toward the exit of the Great Hall and outside the crumbling walls of the school. The grass was scorched, and a murky haze had settled over the expanse of the grounds. A fallen tree jutted into the lake, which the Giant Squid was slowly pushing out of its domain. And so the rebuilding began.

“I --� she started. “I thought it might be nice to talk. You know . . . now that no one is trying to kill us.�

Nodding numbly, you replied, “Yeah. We should, shouldn’t we?�

Her jaw was clenching repeatedly, which meant that she was trying to figure out how to say something just the right way. This, of course, made you immediately suspicious, as this particular expression had typically been reserved for one of Snape’s monster essays.

You weren’t stupid, no matter how many times you acted like it. That sole kiss you shared with her had been in the heat of battle and steeped in the knowledge that, at any moment, either one of you could have died. But you didn’t, and neither did she. And now there was that dragon-sized silence hanging in the chilled morning air.

This was when you saw her tell-tale lip tremble, which anyone else would’ve dismissed as a shiver. But not you. She felt it, too, that dull ache in the chest as if a sliver had been carved out. And almost of their own accord, your arms wrapped around her just as the tears began to soak the front of your shirt.

“I know,� you said simply. And you did.

Later today, Hugo will be moving into his first flat, and then it will be just you and her in an empty nest. She already misses her baby boy, but you have already gently reminded her of how glad she had been to strike out on her own when she was Hugo’s age. It is a new beginning, a chance to set off into the world and fall into that perfect storm of doing the right things as well as a few of the wrong ones.

Finally, she stirs, her limbs crawling over you as she stretches away the embrace of sleep. She really is lovely. With a gentle tug, you pull her onto your chest and grin. “Morning, you.�

“Ron . . .�

She is likely about to regale you with a list of things she should do other than laze about in bed, and she is right. You will both have countless mornings without kids in the house to enjoy one another. But those seem so far away, and the flush of sleep makes her even more beautiful.

Chin resting on the top of her head, you said, “I can’t believe it’s finally over. No more Horcruxes, no more You-Know-Who . . .�

Where she might once have chided for not using the name ‘Voldemort’, she merely nodded against your body. But what she said next struck you like a punch in the gut. “I’m so glad you came back.�

With the force of a stampede of Hippogriffs, you realised how close you had come to never being in this moment at all. If you hadn’t seen that doe and followed it, Harry might’ve been dead in the bottom of that icy pond, and the girl -- no, woman -- in your arms would probably have blamed you forever. For so long, your self-worth had been wrapped so tightly around your best friends that it was almost impossible to see where they ended and you began.

But you couldn’t imagine existing any other way, and being tied to the two greatest people you know gave a heady sense of validation, because you helped get them there. For better or worse.

“Everything is changing again,� you muse aloud, not really intending to put that thought to words, but the deed is done.

Sighing, Hermione says, “What do we do, Ron? Our babies will both be gone, and we’ll be alone again.�

This thought merely makes you smile. “We’ll never be alone. I’m sure our son will be eating out of our fridge until half past forever, since he definitely gets his cooking skills from me.�

Rolling her eyes, she says, “I’m serious. When Rose moved out, it was one thing; she was getting married, and we still had Hugo in the house. Even while they were at school, we were both at work and didn’t have time to think about it, but since I retired to focus on SPEW. . .�

It is so simple to you, how to proceed. Make love, sleep in, possibly make love again, and remember why you got married in the first place while your children start their own lives. However, you know what response you will get to a statement like that, which would likely be a punch in the shoulder, so you settle on something that meets you both halfway.

“We’ll manage, love. We’ll manage.�