[Dated to April 14]

[sixthhandlion]

Ron would never admit to being bored on the island. After what they'd all gone through back home, and then again as the island had convinced them that they were all back at Hogwarts through it's own special kind of magic, it seemed wrong to think at all. Most of the time, he was glad for how dull things were; Voldemort was gone, there were no more

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[honestlyrubbish]

In the weeks that had passed since their return home, Hermione hadn't been sure exactly how to approach the boys. There was a part of her that felt almost mad at Harry, that he neglected to tell them about something as serious as having been ready to give up his life, completely, totally, without warning. (Then again, she'd reminded herself time and time again, the end goal had always been to create a safer world for everyone, to stop Voldemort at nearly any cost. And how was Harry supposed to open up to either of them when Hermione had preached repeatedly about the importance of keeping their knowledge separate, lest it affect their return home.) Even more importantly, though, Ron had undergone a deeper loss than Hermione could ever herself fathom. She'd lost her parents, in a way, using the spare day they had to search for them in Australia, but at least she knew that they were happy, that they were living their lives. The same couldn't have been said for Fred, no matter how convinced Hermione was too that Fred would have been

[sixthhandlion]

He heard someone walking up behind him, but didn't turn around until Hermione'd spoken. If it had been most people-- anyone besides Hermione, Harry or Bill, really-- Ron likely would have just walked off and let them have the spot to themselves. The truth was, he didn't much feel like making small talk with people he didn't know. It seemed like that happened more and more often these days.

"What? Chucking stones?" Ron asked, looking down for a second at the remaining flat rock in his hand, "Not much to it, really." He flung the rock across the water mostly to be rid of it, and it skidded and bounced twice before sinking.

[honestlyrubbish]

It struck Hermione, then, how very rarely it was that the two of them had moments like this. Where school didn't loom in the distance, where danger barely lingered like a fine layer of mist over the surface of the water. They weren't struggling for their lives right then, instead having all of the opportunity in the world to stretch their wings and find niches of their own, to explore all in life that none of them- not Ron, not Harry, nor Hermione herself- had really the chance to. Most people their age were traveling across countries, or lingered in the shadows of corners, where hands could wander and sight was no longer the sense used most. Ron could easily have went about exploring soccer at last. Hermione could have started studying plants, the new tropical climate, learn about flora and fauna of a sort that one could never encounter in England

[sixthhandlion]

Ron hadn't planned on throwing any more stones, but when Hermione bent over to look for one of her own, he did too, scanning the ground near his feet for a smooth, flat one. It was better having her around than it was standing about doing it by himself, at least.

"You're joking," he replied, half curious, half amused. Somehow, the idea that there was something Hermione hadn't immediately been able to master was a strange idea to Ron. This was the same person who'd mastered complicated potions in their second year and figured out things in minutes that it likely would have taken Ron and Harry ages to work out. That she wasn't brilliant at something as simple as skimming stones on water seemed impossible. Hermione was good at everything.

Well, not everything. Sometimes he had to remember that while she was basically the equivalent of a living, breathing encyclopedia at times-- Ron was actually convinced she'd managed to memorize Hogwarts: A History down to the ruddy page numbers-- he was better at chess, and Harry had them both