I fail.
Maybe they were like this every year - thinking back over the last five, Hermione couldn't think of this night in that many years that she'd spent without Ron, really. Not entirely. She barely heard the door close behind them, because Ron had her in his arms and she melted against him, all pain and stressed frustration from the day still there, but quieter, and perhaps sharper - which might have been why her mouth found his so very, very fast. Without even saying hello to him, really. She thought the actions could speak for themselves.