Freshly Mown Grass and New Parchment and...

Author's Note (Beginning): A big thanks to my beta, monargh, who did a wonderful job editing (and Brit-picking) this bit of fluff. Hope you all enjoy it!

Freshly Mown Grass and New Parchment and...

Their sixth year of Hogwarts was over. No one knew if they were going to return to the school after the summer, or if there would be one to return to. The fight against Lord Voldemort had finally landed on their doorstep and with Dumbledore gone, the odds were in Voldemort's favour.

The mood on the train when it pulled into platform nine and three-quarters had been a sombre one. Hermione said goodbye to her friends, hugging them a little longer than she would have had the circumstances been different. She promised she'd join them at the Burrow later. With one last wave, she turned and slowly walked toward her parents and gave them both hugs. Her dad took her carriage and wheeled it to their car.

"How was the rest of your year, love?" Mrs. Granger asked her daughter.

Oh boy, she thought, here it goes. A tear slid silently down her cheek as she remembered Dumbledore's funeral. She took a deep breath to steady herself but it caught in her chest and she shuddered.

"Hermione, are you alright dear?" her mother asked in a voice full of concern as she wrapped her arms around her.

That did it; the tears started to pour forth and, for a while, she didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. But eventually she calmed down and on their way home, she tearfully retold the story, vaguely wondering how many more times she would have to do it.

Hermione's parents had not understood the severity of it all. At first, they were properly shocked and outraged and they offered to help in any way they could. Not wanting them any harm, she told them they'd be better off not getting involved.

**

About two weeks later, Mr. Granger asked Hermione why the Wizarding World didn't share the news with the rest of the world. Hermione sighed; she had explained this to him several times before.

"Dad, it's not that simple. We would have to admit to the majority of the world's inhabitants that wizards and witches actually exist. Nevertheless, there are many who wouldn't believe us. It's not worth all the trouble for a handful of supporters who would die anyway."

"But couldn't you just tell the world leaders, like presidents or prime ministers, and ask to use their armies and weapons? You could explain that it is strictly a need-to-know basis. That way, only the leaders are the ones who know. Surely, our forces could stop Lord What's-His-Name."

"No, that's the problem! It won't stop him, not even the tiniest bit. He'll vanish the weapons in the blink of an eye and it'd be a mass slaughter from there on out. We would be killing innocent people who really aren't concerned with our war in the first place."

"But we have nuclear weapons!"

"Fat lot of good those will do. He has a killing curse! All he has to do is say the words and someone will drop down dead. There is no defence against it!" she screamed and ran off to her room.

Good God, I'm going mad here. They just don't get it, she thought, pacing back and forth. She tried to sit down and get some of her summer work finished but she couldn't concentrate.

"How on earth is Harry going to find the rest of the horcruxes?" she asked no one in particular. "What if he can't? How can I help him when I know less than he does?!"

Crookshanks, who had been hunting mice in the garden, jumped through the window and settled on Hermione's lap. She stroked his head absentmindedly while she continued to babble.

Suddenly, she stopped talking and stood up. Crookshanks, thrown to the floor, tossed her a dirty look before stalking off in search of his cream dish.

"Maybe talking to Ginny would help. She must be more worried than I am," she convinced herself. "But I don't want to wait until I go to the Burrow..."

The thought of having come of age and the fact she could Apparate just occurred to her. Concentrating very hard, she closed her eyes and spun around.

Opening her eyes, Hermione found herself outside the Weasley home. Luckily, Ginny was walking in the yard several meters away from where she had landed.

"Ginny," she half-whispered.

"Hermione!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was talking to my dad, trying to explain once again why Muggles shouldn't get involved in the war and then I started thinking about strategies and how badly the odds are against us and," she took a breath, "to make a long story short, I wanted to have a word with you, to see how you were doing."

"Wow. Well, I'm handling it. It's tough to think that if I go back to school, you won't be coming with me."

"But it's --"

"-- for my own good, I know," Ginny finished. "But that doesn't make me any happier about it. I care about you a lot and it's hard to watch from the sidelines as you go off and fight."

"I'm scared to go off and fight. There are so many things that can't be controlled, so many things that could go wrong. What if.....what if one of us...."

"Yeah, I've thought about that too. I don't know what I'd do if I lost any of you. Life just wouldn't...be life anymore."

They continued their conversation until the sun sank below the horizon. Then they each returned to their respective homes.

**

A few weeks after their chat, Hermione went to stay at the Burrow. Harry was there too, having been rescued from the Dursleys two days before her arrival. The mood was tense at first, but soon both Ginny and Harry relaxed a bit and enjoyed each others' company while they could.

Fred and George's shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, was more than terrifically successful and apparently, they had been in a generous spirit. The Burrow now featured a new living room, a study for Arthur and his Muggle contraptions and a proper bedroom for Ron. Harry was happy; this meant they no longer had to squish four people and beds in a room barely big enough for two.

Days were spent leisurely at the Burrow. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny de-gnomed the garden for Mrs. Weasley and spent several afternoons playing Exploding Snap and Wizard Chess. Occasionally, a member of the Order would stop by to check up on everyone.

One night, Lupin and Tonks popped in right before dinner. Mrs. Weasley invited them to stay and wouldn't take no for an answer; conversation was animated, if not exactly comforting.

"We're having trouble tracking down the possible horcruxes," Tonks said sadly.

"Every time we get a good lead, the person won't speak to us. It's frustrating as hell," Lupin continued, frowning. "It doesn't help that I no longer have the Wolfsbane potion to prevent my transformations..."

Tonks insisted on helping Molly clean up the dishes, who agreed somewhat reluctantly. Lupin went to Arthur's study along with Arthur himself, presumably to discuss important matters concerning the Order. Harry and Ginny excused themselves to go for a walk and Hermione was left with Ron for company.

"Ron, you've got something on your cheek," she told him, noticing a fleck of something-or-other.

"Oh, thanks," he said as he wiped his face. The fleck was still there.

"It's still there," she told him. He wiped again. "Just let me get it for you."

Hermione moved closer to Ron and gently removed the speck with her finger. She stood there, lost in thought. I've missed his red hair, his goofy smile, the way I feel so short next to him...I could stand here forever, drinking him in. Mmmm...freshly mown grass and new parchment and --

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, his voice breaking into her reverie. Frustrated, she watched him walk away.

**

The sky was full of clouds, teeming with water, threatening to spill over at any moment. The wind appeared as though it was trying to strip the trees of their leaves. But they had gone to play Quidditch anyway.

Fred and George had decided to stay over the weekend to visit with everyone. Charlie had come back to do something for the Order but Bill and Fleur got stuck in France. Looking for something to amuse them, the boys and Ginny had settled on a game of Quidditch, three-on-three as Hermione opted out.

She was curled up in the living room, her nose in a book. Or it had been there, before she started to stare out of the window.

That's it! This is ridiculous, she thought. I've had enough; I'm tired of staring. There are plenty of other lads out there. I should just move on and find someone else. I'm done waiting for him to do something!

"Done waiting for who to do what?" interrupted a voice all too familiar to her.

She had been thinking out loud. Just tell him; you might not get another chance. And at least you'd have an answer and wouldn't have to wonder anymore. But what if he doesn't share my feelings? Our friendship would never be the same...but it's worth the risk, right? Oh screw it, I never take chances! But I haven't thought this out...it's amazing the thoughts that can go through a girl's mind in a split second and...Focus. Say something!

"I'm done waiting for you to make a move, Ron."

He looked stunned. Words failed him.

"Ron," she said, getting up and walking towards him. "I've been waiting for two years now. I've given you every sign I could come up with and you still haven't done anything."

"Yes I have," he said quietly.

"No, you haven't. You've only managed to confuse me. Sometimes, I thought that you might...-oh just spit it out already!-...have feelings for me. But then you'd go and snog Lavender and I didn't know what to think anymore. I need you to give me something."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Something, say anything! Tell me how you feel," she said, waving her hands frantically.

"Hermione," he said, taking a deep breath and hesitantly placing his hands on her waist. "I care about you, a lot, in a... 'more-than-friends' kind of way."

"Really?" she asked, cautiously knitting her fingers together behind his neck.

She wouldn't kiss him; she was of the school of thought that a girl did not make the first move. She could give him a shove or two, or half a million in this particular case, in the right direction but he ultimately had to do it.

"Yes, really."

"I care about you too, in a 'more-than-friends' kind of way."

Ron didn't say anything. They held each other's gaze; he caressed her cheek with his thumb and she leaned into it a little. Then it happened. He tilted her face up toward his and kissed her.

She thought her heart was going to burst. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world, better than a perfect score on an O.W.L. exam. His lips were surprisingly soft and he held her more securely, linking his hands around her and pulling her closer to him.

But Hermione, constantly thinking, pulled away. Not her body, just her head.

"What if your mom--"

The rest of the sentence was lost in Ron's mouth, which had covered hers again. She brushed the thought away like an annoying mosquito. She was slightly stunned to feel Ron's tongue lightly against her lips and immediately opened her mouth. She was on fire as his tongue explored every corner of her mouth. She moaned. They hugged tighter, kissing with more pressure and hunger.

"I'm sorry I waited so long to do this," whispered Ron sincerely.

"Forgiven," she managed to say before attacking his right ear. He moaned his approval but she hadn't needed it. She could feel, on her leg, what she was doing to him.

He slid his mouth back to hers, picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands on her bottom, gently holding her up, he walked to the couch and lay down on it with her under him. She straightened out, moving her hands to his abs. He was fit from all those late-night Quidditch practices. I want him and I want him now!

Kissing wasn't enough anymore. Ron slowly slid the neck of her shirt over and kissed her shoulder, then her collarbone. Her contented sighs encouraged him. She began to lift his shirt and, taking the hint, he half sat up and let her take it off completely.

"Your turn," he whispered, trailing soft kisses from her ear to her mouth.

He sat back and helped her up as she pulled off her shirt to reveal a pale yellow bra. He gazed in awe at her. Damn those school robes! he thought. They cover up the best parts...

Hermione, running her fingers down his back, kissed him and led him back to a horizontal position. Unlocking their lips, Ron kissed her stomach and chest, drawing an innocent whimper from the girl beneath him. He held his upper body up enough so he could simply look at her.

"What?" she asked as he smiled.

"This is more than I thought I'd ever have. I always told myself that if all I could have was the chance to look into your eyes every day....well, I'd take what I could get. Your eyes are gorgeous."

"I never would've pegged you as a romantic."

"You bring it out in me."

She kissed him sweetly, tangling her hands in his hair. Her tongue caressed his as the rain continued to fall outside. Carefully, she unbuttoned his pants and had begun to unzip them when he bolted upright.

"Hermione, I can't do this."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused and slightly heartbroken.

"No, I mean I've never done...that.....this... before."

"Oh, Ron, that's okay."

"What if I make a fool out of myself?"

"You won't. If anything, I should be the one who's afraid. What if I'm horrible? What if I fail?"

Something in her agitated voice must have reassured him.

"You're beautiful when you're worried. But there's no need to be; you couldn't possibly fail at this," he said, kissing her while he slid his hands behind her back to unhook her bra.

"Oh Ron," she whispered as her whole body relaxed and they got lost inside each other.