Beyond Simplicity
Authored by Larna Mandrea, Sixth Year Gryffindor
Start date: August 7, 2004
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything in the Hogwarts universe. If it was I, Tom Riddle would be the Half Blood Prince and the series would revolve around Susan Bones. Maybe we should be thankful Jo owns it all.
A/N: Don't worry, I'm not abandoning Missing Elements or Lesser Glory, this story just kept developing with such intensity that I had to put it up as soon as possible. This first chapter is extremely fluffy, but the story would gain depth as it progresses. This all takes place six years after the war ended in the trio's seventh year, and you'll get all other details as you go. Now, read, review, and enjoy! Thanks!
Chapter 1: Family
Hermione sat at a large desk, poring determinedly over past legislation to reference in the equal-opportunity proposal she had spent the last three months preparing. This was her one big chance to cause change in the wizarding world, and she was set on success. Still, the research was tedious and, combined wither her usual reports for the Ministry, the work was beginning to wear on her more than she cared to admit.
With a sigh, Hermione allowed herself to become distracted by the calendar that taunted her from the corner of her well-organized desktop. "June 26th," she read aloud, her voice distant as she let her mind drift to old memories. It had been six years ago today that it had all happened...
Six years since Voldemort had fallen.
Six years since Ginny had left them.
Six years since Harry had given up on the world.
Harry. Poor, poor, Harry Potter. She and Ron had prevented him from doing anything drastic, namely killing himself, but they couldn't save him from the guilt and blame that was eating the boy-who-lived-against-his-will alive.
It had been six years, she realized vaguely, since they had last seen Harry.
A soft pop from the kitchen brought Hermione back to her senses with frightening rapidity. She was positive she knew who it was, but the war had left them all with a considerable degree of paranoia. No one was without enemies, even the most innocent of the wizarding world. Cautiously, she secured steady grip on her wand, but relaxed it when Ron strolled in lazily with an apple in hand.
"Hungry, were we?" she commented in greeting while raising an eyebrow of amusement. He responded with her favorite lopsided grin and a loving embrace.
"I skipped dinner just to come home to my wonderful wife, and all you can do is talk about my level of starvation?"
Hermione shook her head and laughed gently. "Ron Weasley, there has never yet been a time when your stomach has not ruled your decisions. Besides, it's nearly ten o'clock. Who has dinner at this hour?"
The redhead grinned sheepishly for a moment, then caught a glimpse of her workstation and countered, "Who slaves away for the Ministry at this hour?"
"I'm not really working," she replied softly, placing a kiss on his freckled cheek. Ron returned the gesture and whispered, "I love you, Hermione Weasley." The girl merely closed her eyes and murmured her love her him as well, her mind blank as she savored the moment. This was the Ron Weasley she had come to love.
This was the Ronald Bilius Weasley that had asked her to marry her... six years ago today. "Happy Anniversary," she said in low voice. "You too," he responded with a loving smile. "We'll celebrate next week, just like I promised."
"Just like always," agreed Hermione, burying her face tenderly in his shoulder.
Five seconds later, Ron took a loud bite of his apple and the mood was ruined. Noticing his wife's pained expression, he quickly set the offending fruit down and offered an apologetic, "Sorry." It would have been more effective, thought Hermione bemusedly, if he'd finished chewing the bite of food before he'd spoken.
This was, without a doubt, the Ron Weasley she had first met at Hogwarts, and she loved him all the same.
"Is Nev upstairs?" he asked with a smile, setting down his bright orange briefcase. Two black C's were emblazoned upon its surface, making evident his position as publicist for the Chudley Cannons. Hermione hated that "putrid suitcase," as she referred to it, but Ron counted it among his prized possessions.
"Yes," replied Hermione, sitting back down with a small sigh. "She's asleep."
"No I'm not!" came the indignant cry of the bushy-haired four-year-old who was now bounding eagerly down the stairs with a triumphant grin. "Daddy!" she squealed as she ran into Ron's outstretched arms.
He twirled her around in a circle for a minute, his face glowing at the sound of her satisfied carefree giggles. "Now why isn't my Nevvie asleep?" he asked as he playfully tickled his daughter in the stomach.
"Not for lack of trying," murmured Hermione with a sad smile. Her daughter reminded her so forcibly of her old school friend sometimes that it was painful.
The four year old simply offered a proud, toothy grin at this and began to race around the room with seemingly endless amounts of energy.
"I found a stash of Sugar Shockers in her closet. Fred and George must have left them yesterday when they stopped by," explained Hermione, watching as Nev twirled rapidly in a circle before collapsing and dissolving into manic giggles.
The twins had experienced great success with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and it was now a favorite among school-aged wizards and witches, although their parents and teachers tried to keep them away at all costs.
Ron chuckled as he hoisted Nev onto his shoulders. "Back to bed with you!" he announced, carrying his young daughter up the stairs amid her hollered protests. Hermione followed the pair with a weary smile, appreciating just how lucky she was to have such a wonderful family.
The war had left so many families torn and broken; both the Bones and Longbottom bloodlines had died out, and only half the of the trio's year had survived to celebrate the victory.
Hermione watched as Ron tenderly set Nev down and tucked her in lovingly; the effects of the Sugar Shocker was wearing off rapidly and the four-year-old was snoring loudly in minutes.
Ron flicked the light off effortlessly with his wand as he rejoined his wife in the doorway, silently admiring her silhouette.
"Show-off," muttered Hermione teasingly before she was silenced with a kiss. Ron snaked an arm around her waist, and together they walked back down to the living room. Hermione moved to turn on the wireless, but Ron hastily stopped her.
"Did you forget what day it is?" he asked gingerly, taking a seat.
Hermione heaved a great sigh at this and flopped down miserably beside her husband on the couch, allowing her head to tip onto his shoulder. "I didn't forget, it just... didn't register," she admitted, her voice soft and cautious.
"I know," he murmured, absentmindedly stroking her hair. "It's awful, though. All they talk about. Him. Harry. Us. All of it." He let out a long breath. "Six years, Hermione. I just can't believe its been six years."
She mumbled her assent, fighting tears as her mind filled with memories. It was all so easy to see, as clear as though it had just happened. That horrible look on Harry's face as he unfolded the Daily Prophet... Ron screaming that Death Eaters had made it through the wards... Ginny, dueling her life away alongside the rest of the D.A... the pile of ash that Lord Voldemort dissolved into... even six years later, the thoughts were vivid.
"I wish I had a pensieve," she thought out loud.
Ron nodded. "Yeah, that would be nice." He paused, and then asked with concern, "Would you show Nev?"
Hermione fidgeted, not wanting to think about it anymore. "Does she really need to see it? I mean, she'll learn everything in school anyway," she answered, her voice pleading.
"We lived it, Hermione."
At this, the woman couldn't suppress a sigh of frustration. "Wasn't living it once enough? How many times are we going to have to relive it! I just want it to go away!" She began to cry quietly, burying her head in the folds of his cloak. The war had robbed them of all their peace and patience, leaving their emotions raw and untamed.
"The past doesn't go away," Ron reminded his wife softly, quoting the words she had directed at Harry during their seventh year.
"I know," murmured Hermione, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. "I just wish it wasn't so much of the future."
Ron agreed wholeheartedly, but he decided not to say anything further on the subject. The war may have ended six years ago, but the healing had barely begun.
"Are we going to floo to the memorial service?" asked Hermione timidly, fingering the fringe at the end of his sleeve. She knew it was dangerous to switch from one tender topic to another, but she couldn't stand any more thoughts of their seventh year.
"Yeah, since we're taking Nev with us," answered Ron quietly. Every year, the Weasleys gathered to remember Ginny near the anniversary of her death.
"Well then, I'm going to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day," said Hermione, rising and heading up the stairs.
Ron nodded his agreement, then called after her, "I'll be up in a few minutes." He twisted to watch her retreating back and waited for it to disappear fully into the bedroom. When it had, he flicked on the wireless quietly, so as not to disturb the women in the house. Two radio announcers were on, discussing the day's celebrations.
"That was the latest from the Weird Sisters, titled Accio Heartthrob. You've tuned in for our all day celebration of free, free, FREEDOM! That's right, folks, in case you've been vacationing on Neptune, today marks the sixth anniversary of the defeat of that nasty dark lord!"
"Many thanks to the boy-who-lived, wherever he might be."
"I don't know why he's hiding, Mick, because the local pubs are handing out all the best stuff! Butterbeer, firewhisky, fizzale, you name it—the night is young and we're going to party until the stars fall!"
"Although it looks to me as though that might have already have happened, Lee."
"Oh, shaddup, mate, you're just drunk."
"Right you are! Anyway, back to that sweet, sweet music. The Dueling Nifflers are up next with their underground hit, Ooh Shiny! "
At this point, Ron flicked off their drunken banter and rested his head in his hands. "Harry, mate, what've you done with yourself," he muttered aloud in frustration. "What the bloody hell are you doing," he said again, feeling so much pain for his best friend.
Little did he know that miles away, the man called Harry Potter was thinking the exact same thing.