As Hermione Weasley stood on the porch, she couldn't help but admire the man she had called husband for the past twenty-one years. How they survived the events of so many years previously, she still couldn't find an answer logical enough.
Fate was the best way to describe it. Fate destined Harry for the life he led, the tragedy he had succumbed to live through. Fate chose Ron and herself to be by his side every step of the way; it thought them worthy enough. Fate found Harry the perfect companion, the one thing that kept him sane enough during his hunt, the one thing that gave him something more to fight for. Yes, fate had a plan for them all: her, Harry, Ron and his family, their classmates, and the friends each of them acquired over the years…everyone was affected, wizard and muggle alike. Fate even brought Ron and Hermione together in a relationship far beyond that of what friendship could provide.
So, one might ask, why could fate just turn around and play the cruelest trick known to mankind? The answer…life is the farthest thing from fair. It's fickle and enjoys showing favoritism and this time Hermione was not in the loop.
For the past twenty years, Hermione had worked for the Ministry of Magic, first in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and later on as a vital member for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; and Ron had originally begun helping George with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but later joined Harry in the Auror Department. What Hermione had trouble wrapping her mind around was, if he was an Auror why in the name of Merlin would he have joined George on his escapade in the States to further business? Why did he go? George may have been his brother, but it made no sense. None whatsoever…
Three weeks. It had been three weeks before she heard news, before he told her he was alright. Oh, how she desired to wring his neck. She couldn't go with him because it was mid-September-after the Second War, Hogwarts started September 15 rather the 1st-when he left and she was now at Hogwarts…now at Hogwarts teaching Charms. How McGonagall talked her into that she didn't know.
Incidentally, she was forced to wait here…forced to wait as Ginny had waited for Harry during the hunt. It pained her deeply not to wake up to that familiar face and scent every morning, not to block out his annoying snores at night, not to hear his disgruntled voice when the morning rays hit his face, not to hear that belly of his cry in agony and his mumblings of hunger. She missed them, but mostly she missed him. How she ever lived a day in her life without him there, she never knew, nor did she ever want to live them in such a manner. But she did, she was at that moment.
She wished he was here.
The day he left hurt her, their words hurt her, the innocent stares of her children hurt her…
"Ron, why do you have to go?" she demanded for about the umpteenth time, as he shoved articles of clothing in his travel bag.
"I already told you 'Mione. I worked with him for seven years and know the business better than his other employees," he responded, irritatingly, still moving about grabbing what he needed.
"But you don't work there anymore, Ron. I know he's your brother, but Angelina is accompanying him. And she knows the business inside and out, better than you!" Ron visibly stiffened, but showed no other recognition that she hit a very old nerve. "She's the co-owner, for Merlin's sake."
"Where's my IDC?" he asked her as he rummaged through a few papers in the bedside drawer.
"What?" Hermione inquired of him clearly perplexed.
"My IDC, Hermione," a frustrated Ron responded. "Where is it?"
"Your Ministry Identification Card?" she questioned him and he nodded, quite annoyed with her. "I-I-It's on the study desk. Why?" she asked as he passed her in the doorway. She followed him pass the kitchen, where fourteen-year-old Rose and thirteen-year-old Hugo were eating breakfast and looking at them curiously, pass the front door where Harry had just appeared, and to the end of the hall, all the while questioning him. "Why do you need your IDC? And your Auror badge, I saw you packing that away, too. Why are you really going to America? What's going on? Ronald Weasley, will you answer me?"
He stopped in his tracks and whirled around so fast, Hermione almost knocked them both off their feet. His eyes were a-blazed with nothing short of annoyance and anger. Ron was keeping something from her and she knew it, but that didn't mean he could tell her.
"Will. You. Stop. I am going and that is final. Damn well get over it!" He could see the insulted look in her eyes, Hermione knew it. It fueled her temper. She too was seething.
"I will NOT get over it. You're not going because of George, I know better. WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?" she yelled, poking him in the shoulder. Ron grabbed her hand
"I am the only one who can seal the deal, Hermione. Leave it be," he informed her quite calmly, much more calmly than what his eyes told. She was rather impressed at how well he was learning to control his anger, but that didn't abate hers.
"I-"
They heard someone clear their throat behind them and turned to the perpetrator who dared to interrupt their argument.
"I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now." Harry told them, and then to Ron he said, "I have the information." Ron nodded and went to grab his IDC from the study and the travel bag that resided on his and Hermione's bed. When he returned to the sitting room, Hermione flew in yet again as a vulture would for road-kill.
"What information do you have, Harry?" she asked him dangerously, her steely gaze connected to his nervous one. He noticeably gulped down a bit of fear as he looked to Ron as though asking 'you haven't told her, have you?'
Instead of answering her, Harry took papers out of his pocket and handed them to Ron, who stuffed them into his own. Ron then turned to the children.
"What's going on, Daddy?" Rose asked, with a bewildered look upon her face. "What were those papers for?"
"It doesn't matter. Put it out of your mind, my Angel," he told her and she nodded as he gave her a fierce hug to which she held on tightly a tear slipped down her cheek. He kissed her temple and turned to Hugo. "Son, I'm leaving for a couple months." He held onto to him. "Behave yourself. Protect your mother and your sister while I'm gone." He took his Hugo's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm depending on you to be the man of house."
"I will, Dad," the thirteen-year-old responded, quite shaken.
Hermione observed the interactions between her husband and children, eyes watering. She ran into his arms when he turned to her. They clung to each other as though they'd never see the other ever again; and she crashed her lips to his. When they pulled apart, he settled his forehead onto hers.
"Don't go," she pleaded. "Please don't go."
"I have to." Ron sadly conveyed, forcing the tears out of her. "You'll understand in due time." Then he let go, embraced his friend and whispered something not heard by the others. Without hesitation, Ron dissapparated from the Living Room, leaving behind his family.
It still pained her.
