After the war, they were inseparable. Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Free finally of school, Voldemort, and the pressures that they’d faced for nearly a quarter of their lives. But once the dust settled, and they got back to dinner on the weekends, and shopping for groceries, and holidays, not worried that everyone in that room could be dead in a matter of weeks or months; Hermione realized that she didn’t particularly love Ron in the way she thought she once did. Maybe she hadn’t ever loved him that way. 