Finally, The Sequel!

A/N: This takes place the summer after the trio's seventh year. While reading the first story couldn't hurt, I don't think anyone would be completely lost when reading this fic; it's a separate storyline.

Also, grumbles I realise that when I wrote Finally! I was under the impression that Hermione was younger than Ron. Now that Rowling has stated that Hermione is in fact older than both Harry and Ron, I'm going with that and so in this story she's older than she was in the first story. It doesn't actually change anything in my Finally-Potter-World, but I thought I'd just make a note of it anyway.

And, lastly, thanks to doraemon for helping me beta this fic. :)

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Chapter One: White Weddings and Doubt

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'Why do you do that?' snapped Ginny. 'I am so bloody sick and tired of you—' The sixteen-year-old redhead stopped berating her older brother. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she tried to manage a smile. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'I'm just tired of everyone acting like I'm a delicate flower or something… I'm not made of glass. I haven't broken yet, and I'm not going to break over this.'

'This' being Harry Potter.

Ron could kill his former best mate for leaving his sister behind the way he did. And he worried that her strong front was just that – a front. He remembered the summer after his second year at Hogwarts, the way Ginny would cry in her sleep and flinch at the slightest touch. He was sure she'd broken then, because she was easily frightened and the sound of a floorboard creaking could have her crying out with a start. But she was no longer that eleven-year-old girl. She was sixteen, had loved and lost, and fought against the Darkest wizard known. Still, she was just a girl who was mending a broken heart and Ron was waiting for her to break down. He hadn't seen her cry – not once.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I don't mean to… I just want to make sure you're okay.'

'Leave her alone, Ron,' murmured Hermione from the sofa in the living room of The Burrow. 'She has bigger things to worry about than just Harry. She has three N.E.W.T. level Potions essays to write.' Hermione said all this with a twinkle in her eye even though she didn't look up from the book she was reading.

Ron narrowed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at his girlfriend; something he never would have done if she'd been facing him.

'That's mature,' said Hermione.

The tips of his ears turned red. How she knew exactly what he did all the bloody time, he would never figure out.

'Er, let's go for a fly, then,' suggested Ron, looking at his sister. He knew Hermione would demur. She always did.

'All right, then. I'll get the brooms from the shed and you can go find the Quaffle. I think I last saw it in the twins' old room.'

Ginny set off through the front door and across the garden. Ron glanced at Hermione before running up the stairs to the room formally occupied by two of the biggest practical jokers in the magical world. Fred and George had since moved into a flat together, but were going to add another roommate in a few weeks. Fred, against his twin's advice, had proposed to his long-time girlfriend Angelina. She had her own flat that she shared with roommates, but in an effort to save not only money but Fred's rocky relationship with George, she offered to just move into the flat with the twins. Ron felt a bit of sympathy for George. He and Fred had always had big plans of sharing a flat in London, living it up, getting drunk on Firewhisky. Unfortunately, Fred proposed to Angelina much, much sooner than anyone had anticipated and George felt as though he was being left behind.

Of course, George had never actually said this, but Ron and Harry had had the same plans for themselves, and Ron knew how he felt when he realised Harry was going to muss up those plans royally.

Still, things weren't all bad. Hermione was living in Percy's old room, and after having her around every single day at Hogwarts and at the safe house, Ron couldn't imagine living away from her. Ever. Things were good between them. After the final battle Ron had had to take care of Hermione; she was in constant pain. There was little time to row about anything. Now, though, things were back to normal. They shouted and their temperatures rose in anger and annoyance, but they were so used to bickering that they were able to make up quickly, forgive and forget, as though it was an art form.

'RON!'

Ron started at the sound of his own name. He quickly found the old, beat-up Quaffle and raced down the stairs. He slowed down as he came through the lounge.

'Coming?' he asked Hermione.

'No… I'd rather finish my book.'

'Why don't you read outside?'

Hermione nodded. 'All right, I'll meet you out there.'

Ron smiled. He headed out the door and grabbed his Cleansweep from Ginny, soaring off towards the treetops like he had back in his Keeper-days at Hogwarts.

XXXXXXX

A week later Hermione watched from her bedroom window as Mrs Weasley shouted at her two eldest sons. Ron had informed her that Angelina insisted on a beautiful outdoors wedding and Fred wasn't keen on waiting until the next spring to get married ('Go figure,' Ron had added). Now, Mrs Weasley was taking it upon herself to make the back garden of The Burrow as perfect as possible. This was her dream: taking charge of one of the weddings of her sons.

Hermione rested her chin against her arm on the windowsill. She sat cross-legged in her desk chair, which she'd pulled up to watch in amusement as Mrs Weasley order Bill and Charlie around. A creak in the floorboards outside of her room let Hermione know someone was coming. She guessed by the warm hands that pushed her hair away from her shoulders, and the soft lips that kissed her neck, that Ron had come looking for her.

'Morning,' he murmured.

Hermione smiled. She turned around and took him in. He was still in pyjamas, feet bare against the hard floor, sunburnt arms sticking out from underneath an old Cannons t-shirt, hair rumpled and eyes glazed.

'What're you doing?' he asked.

'Watching your mum set up for Fred's wedding. I've never seen one before in the magical world. I've read about them, of course,' she added. 'It's rather fascinating, really. Much different than Muggle weddings.'

Ron arched an eyebrow. 'Really?' With a yawn he walked a few steps backwards until he met with her bed. He lay down on it, folding his hands together underneath the back of his head like a pillow. 'What's so different? Aren't marriages the same thing everywhere?'

'There are lots of differences,' said Hermione very matter-of-factly. 'First of all, the bride always wears a white dress and carries a bouquet of flowers. She has bridesmaids that stand up at the altar with her as well.'

'Angelina has bridesmaids,' Ron pointed out.

'Yes, and they help her do her hair and her make-up and all of that, but in Muggle weddings the bridesmaids stand up next to the bride. And the groomsmen stand up next to the groom. In magical weddings the groom only has one groomsman, which in the Muggle world is called a best man.'

'Why would the bridesmaids stand up next to the bride? They're not getting married.'

Hermione shrugged. 'That's just how it's done.'

'Muggles are mental,' said Ron. 'What else is different?'

'The rings, for one. There are enchanted engagement rings here, with symbols carved into the bands and the gems have special powers or meaning, right? But during the ceremony, the wizard takes off the engagement ring and puts it on the bride's other hand before placing the real wedding ring on it. In the Muggle world, the engagement ring is worn with the wedding ring… they're kind of a set.'

'A set?' Ron looked up at the ceiling. 'My mum's ring has all these carvings on it in some sort of design, and my dad had it enchanted so that when he's thinking about her, the carvings glow blue.' Ron chuckled. 'It's almost always blue. It's also enchanted to turn black if he's ever unfaithful, but that's never happened.'

'I bet not! Your parents bicker, but they're in love, still. You can tell.'

'It's gross.'

Hermione laughed. 'It is not gross, silly! It's lovely! Don't you want to still be in love when you're their age?'

'I never had any doubt that I wouldn't be,' said Ron absentmindedly as he picked up a book from Hermione's bedside table. 'What's this?'

Hermione jumped up from her chair and snatched the book away from Ron. 'Nothing.'

Ron arched his eyebrow again.

'It's my diary,' said Hermione, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. She cleared her throat. 'Anyway,' she continued, putting her diary in the drawer of the table, 'I read that getting wedding rings enchanted is really, really expensive. It's not a craft they teach at school, so witches and wizards who know how to charm metals can make a lot of money off of them. What kind of charms did Fred put on Angelina's ring?'

'I don't know,' answered Ron, eyeing the drawer where Hermione's diary lay hidden. 'I think he said something about making it glow pink whenever he's talking about her and making it green when he's thinking about her – I don't know. A lot of romantic rubbish.'

Hermione smiled. 'You don't really think it's rubbish and you know it. The books I got about wizard weddings left out the parts on divorces completely. How are those managed in the wizard world?'

'What's a divorce?'

'When two married people opt not to be married anymore, they can get a divorce which dissolves their marriage so that they are no longer bound together.'

Ron sat up. 'Wait… In the Muggle world you can just not be married anymore? Without someone dying? Now, that's mental. Why would you bloody get married if you didn't want to stay married?'

'I don't know. People change… Are you telling me no one in the magical world ever wants a divorce?'

'I don't know, but it never happens. Once you're married you just stay married.' Ron leaned over and reached for Hermione, pulling her to him. 'Why, you think you're going to get sick of me one day or something?'

'Don't be silly,' replied Hermione. 'Of course not.'

Ron played with the paper ring on her finger. She remembered when he made it for her, binding it with an Unbreakable Charm, before going to fight Voldemort for the last time. The ring wasn't about a promise to one day get married. It was filled with many promises – to make her happy, to love her, to be with her, and, well of course, to marry her. Hermione knew that Ron was embarrassed by it, by the fact that he couldn't afford to buy her a real ring, but she refused to take it off.

'Don't you get tired of this?' he asked.

'No!' cried Hermione. 'Why would I?'

'Because it's not real.'

'It doesn't have to be encrusted with diamonds or rubies for it to be special to me. I love it because of what it means… Besides, once you go through Auror training you can get me something else – as long as you promise not to spend too much money.' Hermione ran her fingers through his hair as Ron pulled her closer still so that she was practically sitting on his lap.

'Did you decide yet?' Ron asked, nodding his head towards her desk and the stacks of letters and envelopes on top of it – all job offers and application acceptance letters.

'I've narrowed it down. I think I'll either work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—'

'You and that bloody spew nonsense.'

'Ron! How many times do I have to tell you—'

'I know, I know, it's S-

E-W.'

'Anyway, yes, I could work for the Office of House Elf Relocation or I could work in Werewolf Support Services. I've been offered a job in both offices. Or…'

'Or what?'

'Well, the other option is to become an Unspeakable.'

'In the Department of Mysteries?' Ron looked thoroughly surprised. 'Doing what?'

'I can't tell you, but the Department Head was very impressed with my Transfiguration and Charms N.E.W.T.s.'

Ron shook his head. 'I think I'd rather have you never tell me about your job than listen to you go on about house elves all bloody day.'

'Ron!' Hermione wrenched herself away from his strong arms and stood up, her hands on her hips. 'I don't know why you always have to belittle the house elves. You should at least just be quiet about it since you know it's important to me! I don't tell you that you bore the life out of me with your incessant prattle about the Cannons!'

'Oi! Hermione! That one hurt!' said Ron, clutching his chest.

'Oh!' cried Hermione, throwing up her hands. 'You're impossible!'

'He's a Weasley,' a voice said from the doorway.

Hermione turned around. 'Hi, George,' she said, greeting the older wizard who had the same bright ginger hair as Ron.

'Don't stop bickering on my account,' said George. 'I rather enjoy watching. We're all waiting to see which one of you pops a blood vessel first.'

Ron snorted. 'What d'you need, George?'

'Mum wants you to help her in the kitchen.'

'Me? Why can't Ginny do it?'

'Something about a Potions essay.'

Ron got up, grumbling, and left Hermione's room. George stood in the doorway, looking expectantly at Hermione.

'So…?' he said, his voice trailing off.

Hermione perked up. 'Did you get it?' she asked, excitedly.

'Yeah.' George reached into the pocket of his dragon-hide jacket. It looked just like leather, only the material shone green in the light. He held out the envelope to Hermione. 'You're going to have to tell him, y'know. I mean, I can handle Ron when he's hacked off, but I'm not the one living here, shagging him every other day, either.'

'We do not shag every other day!' Hermione snatched the letter away from George. 'I appreciate it, y'know,' she said, her voice softer. 'I'll tell him… when he's ready to be told.'

'He'll never be ready.'

'Oh, I don't know.' Hermione looked at the letter in her hand. 'I don't like to keep secrets, I really don't, but… if he saw these letters it would just cause another row and, to be honest, I don't know if I can handle a row of that magnitude. I'm still…'

'Weak,' offered George.

Hermione looked up at the short, redheaded boy. 'Why are you helping me? You're not getting anything out of it.'

George chuckled. 'After all the shite Fred and I put you through when you were a prefect fifth year? Those poor bloody first-years all fainting in the common room? I thought your head was going to explode on the spot. Think of this as me owing you.'

'You always kind of liked me, didn't you? Even when I was being bossy?'

The tips of George's ears turned red. 'Well, no. Being two years older than Ron I suppose I just saw what he didn't.'

'Which was?'

'That you weren't just books and cleverness. You were cute.' George shrugged. 'But I wouldn't go as far as to say I fancied you! Once you got your teeth fixed you were quite nice to look at.'

Hermione turned a bit pink. 'Thanks.'

George shrugged again. 'Just don't tell Ron I said that. Brother or no brother, I think he'd pummel me.'

XXXXXXX

Fred and Angelina's wedding was just as Hermione had expected it. Everything was very formal – Angelina wore embroidered white dress robes that flowed just right, with her hair pulled back in a very elaborate twist that could have only been managed with magic. Even Fred, who usually tried to look stylishly chic, but ended up looking like a walking advertisement for Modern Wizard clothing line, looked distinguished in his dark dress robes. Everyone looked happy, even Mrs Weasley who cried during most of the ceremony.

Once the Oath of Magical Marriage had been said, the rings had been exchanged, and Fred had kissed Angelina to seal the bond, all of the guests sent up white sparks from their wands and cheered. Hermione noticed, as the sparks flew from the end of her own wand, that most everything was white. The flowers, the tablecloths, the plates, the punch.

'White's the official colour of weddings,' Ron said, when Hermione commented about this.

'Really?'

He nodded. 'You didn't read that in one of your books?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No. There was no mention of colour. In Muggle weddings, the dress is always white, but everything else is chosen by the bride and groom.'

Ron shrugged.

They were still sitting in the back garden, on white chairs, even though everyone else had gone to the other side of the house where tables were set up and food was displayed. By looking at all of the guests, one would think it was a Gryffindor reunion. All of the players Fred and Angelina had ever played Quidditch with were in attendance, as well as the other Gryffindors of their year. Of course all of the Weasley brothers were there – Bill and Fleur, who'd been married for a good bit of time now, Charlie and his wife, Percy and Penelope ('When those two will ever get married is beyond me,' Mrs Weasley had muttered earlier. 'Living the life of a scarlet woman, she is. And Percy just allowing it to happen! I expected this behaviour from the twins… but Percy was a prefect!'), and, of course, George.

'Aren't you hungry?' asked Hermione. 'I heard your stomach growl during the ceremony.' She gave a bit of a giggle.

'Not really. I don't have much of an appetite.'

'Ron? What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'I know you too well,' said Hermione. 'Something's wrong and I want to know what it is.' When Ron didn't reply or even look at her, Hermione continued her pleading, 'Please?'

Ron sighed. 'I got an owl today.'

Hermione's heart sped up. 'An owl? From who?' She couldn't remember seeing any owls coming to The Burrow that day. The owl must have come sometime after breakfast, as Ron had been in a fairly good mood before that, despite their almost-row in her room.

'The Ministry. They sent me back the results from my tests.'

Ah, yes, Hermione remembered. A few weeks before, Ron had gone to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to take several character and aptitude tests. He'd been accepted into the general program, but his full acceptance depended on those tests. Ron had been reluctant to talk about them. Apparently, Hermione found out through Tonks, one of the requirements is to talk to a psychoanalyst, and Ron was completely uncomfortable talking to strangers about the things – however normal they were – that went on in his head.

'Well?'

Ron looked at Hermione with wide eyes. He smiled at her and she felt her heart speed up even more with anticipation. With a shrug he said, 'I didn't get in.'

Hermione completely deflated. 'What? Why the hell not?'

Ron rubbed his face with his hands before dropping them into his lap and groaning. 'That bloody psycho-nologist—'

'Psychoanalyst,' supplied Hermione.

'Whatever. He told them I was an unregistered Animagus… And some other stuff about how I'm likely to crack.'

'Likely to crack?' Hermione found that absurd. 'How are you likely to crack? You're perfectly stable!'

'It's not that,' explained Ron. 'It's that they're afraid I would bottle stuff up inside and since being an Auror is the most stressful job at the Ministry…' He trailed off and took in a deep breath. 'I have no idea what I'm supposed to do.'

He looked as though he could start crying at any moment. Hermione reached out and held his hands in hers.

'You know that blasted mirror at Hogwarts? The one that shows you what you desire most?'

'Yes. And I told you—'

'You told me I wanted to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain because I needed a way to be better than the rest of my brothers. They're all brilliant in their own way and I thought, wow, I could be an Auror and damn wouldn't that be something? Now what am I supposed to do? I could always work in the joke shop.'

Hermione was sure Ron's world was crashing down all around him. In the past few months everything he'd ever had his heart set on completely fell apart. She knew it was a plan of his and Harry's to go into the training program and move into a flat near the Ministry in London and do their training together. None of that was possible now. Harry hadn't gone back to King's Cross with them at the end of the year – he went to live in Ireland with Remus and Tonks. But there was still a slight glimmer of hope that Ron could go into the Auror program. Now, that glimmer had been extinguished as well.

'I can always reapply next year,' said Ron.

'So do that!' said Hermione encouragingly. 'Register yourself as an Animagus and—'

'I don't think I could handle another rejection. It just doesn't make any sense. I thought for sure I would be able to get into the program. I helped defeat Voldemort for Merlin's sake. I mean… the Daily Prophet is still hounding us for interviews and quotes. People talk about us, y'know. I swear, when I took Ginny to Flourish and Blotts to pick up her books for next term, people pointed to us, whispering about what we'd done. I felt like Harry – what, with everyone recognising us and all? And the bloody Ministry doesn't think I'm good enough to be an Auror. I got an O in Defence for fuck's sake.'

Hermione tried not to grimace at Ron's swearing. 'I think you're brilliant at Defence. I suppose, though, there is protocol. They can't let someone into a Law Enforcement job if they've knowingly broken the law. I know there were extenuating circumstances, but you know how the Ministry is.'

'A bunch of poncey arseholes?'

'Something like that.' Hermione sighed. She brushed the fringe away from Ron's forehead, glad that it was back to being long again. He'd had to cut it all off for a potion she made in order to kill Voldemort's soul. What he hadn't known was that Hermione secretly brewed him a Hair Restoration Draught that had his hair back to its original length in only a few days. Unfortunately, the Draught didn't work for men who were already bald, like Mr Weasley, as Ron had asked about that. It was what St Mungo's used when someone came in after losing all their hair in a spell or potion gone wrong.

'Look,' said Hermione, 'I know this is a huge disappointment. Actually, I cannot imagine what it feels like, but I don't think any less of you. In fact, it burns me that the Ministry would reject you. I cannot believe them. It's completely unfair!'

'You're not helping to make me feel any better, y'know.'

Hermione reddened. 'I still love you. I still think you're amazing.'

'Not amazing enough, apparently. Bill's got his good looks and a good bit of money from work. Plus, he was Head Boy and he married a goddamned Veela. Percy's just brilliant. I mean, I guess I was Head Boy and all, but the other blokes in our year had nothing between their ears. There's no way I could compete with Percy in intelligence. Charlie and the twins were all fantastic Quidditch players, and they have their careers which everyone always asks about. "How are the dragons?" "What are you inventing next?" No one is going to ask me a bloody thing if I have to go and write reports on cauldron thickness.'

'Oh, shut it!' cried Hermione. Had she been standing, she would have stomped her foot. 'You were brilliant at Quidditch once you calmed down and stopped listening to whatever came out of the Slytherins' mouths. You were a prefect and Head Boy because you're smart, not because everyone else wasn't. And even if you did write reports on cauldron thickness, I'd still ask you about your day at work. I don't know why you continue to think you're rubbish. Honestly, Ron, it gets right frustrating that you don't see what everyone else does.'

Ron sighed. 'Fine.'

'Things have a way of working themselves out, don't they?'

'I suppose.'

'So, let's not worry too much about it, all right?' Hermione was amazed at her lying abilities. In truth, her brain was running through all of the remaining possibilities Ron had for a job. He needed something that wouldn't bore him or make him feel ashamed of what he was doing. He needed something that would challenge him and make him happy. He needed—

'Don't tell anyone,' said Ron. 'I don't really want them to know.'

Hermione nodded. 'Of course. Did you want to join the party now?'

Ron shrugged.

'Would you rather go back to your room for a bit? We haven't found the privacy to be properly alone since that last night at Hogwarts. Your mum's always home and she has a nose for that kind of stuff. Always sniffing about, but she's completely immersed in your brother. I'm sure no one would miss us for a little bit…'

Ron nodded. 'Absolutely.'

XXXXXXX

Ron didn't think he was ever going to be able to escape The Burrow. Not that it was a prison, but this was his childhood home; he didn't feel very much like a child anymore. Hermione had plans to get her own flat in London after she began work at the Ministry, which would be bloody brilliant, as there were too many people constantly Apparating in and out of The Burrow, never allowing for any semblance of privacy. Who would've known that in the middle of a big celebration would be the only time Ron had been alone – and really alone – with his girlfriend in nearly a month? And she lived in the same house as him!

The sex felt amazing. Ron never wanted to stop being with Hermione. Afterwards, though, they'd dressed quickly; with the entire Weasley clan back home, someone was bound to come looking for them at some point, and Ron didn't want them to find him starkers with his girlfriend. More like, he didn't want them to find his girlfriend starkers!

They hadn't gone to the party, though. Hermione used her wand to make up Ron's bed and they were now lying on top of the orange duvet, Hermione breathing in and out slowly and softly as Ron played with her hair.

'Merlin, 'Mione,' breathed Ron, 'I miss you.'

'You see me everyday,' she replied with a giggle. 'I'm surprised you're not sick of me yet.'

'No. We need each other too much for me to start missing you.'

Ron was, of course, referring to the memories that plagued them all the time, especially Hermione. He'd still wake up in the night, somehow knowing she was in trouble, and go to her room. While she stopped waking up in the middle of nightmares screaming, she still cried silently in her sleep, tears soaking through her pillowcase and causing her nose to begin to run. Ron would kneel by her bed, caress her cheek or her hair until she calmed down. Sometimes she woke up. Oftentimes she didn't. Ron knew, though, she was always aware when he went to her in the middle of the night; the next morning at breakfast she would always give him a hug that lingered just a bit longer.

Hermione didn't just need him, though. Ron needed her as well. Perhaps the Ministry was right. Perhaps he would crack under the pressure. Since Harry just walked out and left, Ron refused to discuss him. Things that usually didn't bother him now sent him over the edge, and it took Hermione forcing him to leave the house and walk it off with her, in a companionable silence, to make him cool off.

The psycho-thingy that was in one of the Auror interviews had more or less used Legilimency on him, his observations written down with an enchanted quill and parchment. Afterwards, the psycho-bility-man wanted to 'discuss' what he'd seen. Ron was fighting now to keep himself under control and not punch a hole in the wall; how could he have been so stupid as to think he could be an Auror? He wanted to say this to Hermione, but she refused to listen to him berate himself. In a way he was glad she thought so highly of him, but in a way he still doubted what she said was true. After all, what good was he if he couldn't even get into the training program? Let alone pass and become a full Auror?

'Why did I ever think living at The Burrow would be a good idea?'

'What d'you mean?' asked Hermione, turning her head so she could look up at Ron.

'Just so many bloody people here. Mum and Dad and Ginny, of course, but the twins are always Apparating in for no good reason, and Percy… Then now that Bill's back to working a desk job again he's always around… I feel like everyone's watching us, waiting for us to sneak away.'

'Your mum does have a good nose for sniffing that sort of behaviour out.'

Ron rolled his eyes, remembering the time when he and Hermione had finally been able to slip away when his mother came banging on the door. Luckily they were only kissing and nothing too untoward was happening.

'Once I decide on exactly what job I'm going to take, I'm going to find a flat in London closer to the Ministry. I don't like Apparating; I'd rather walk there instead.'

'Then I can come over and spend the night whenever I want!'

Hermione bit her lip. 'Well…'

'Well what? You don't want me to?'

'Just not all the time… I don't know how I manage to look your mother in the eye knowing we've done the things we have. She'd probably start crying if she knew I had taken her son's virginity.'

'You make it sound like you took advantage of me.'

'Well, I am an older woman.'

Ron howled with laughter. 'You're only five months older than I am!' Ron began to tickle her sides, making Hermione shriek with laughter.

'If you two are quite finished,' Mr Weasley said from the doorway, looking rather amused.

Ron looked up and frowned. He wasn't altogether happy to see his father, but at least they were clothed. 'You're just like George,' he murmured, remembering how George had interrupted them bickering earlier that day.

'You two should be down at the party. Fred is showing everyone some Muggle game he learned in London.'

Hermione nodded. 'All right.' She got up from the bed and turned to Ron. 'Aren't you coming?'

'He'll meet you down there,' said Mr Weasley.

Ron was confused. What did his father want? Hermione shrugged but made her way out the door and out of sight.

'What's wrong?' asked Ron, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

Arthur Weasley pulled a crumpled looking letter out of his pocket and handed it to Ron. 'Don't leave your mail in the kitchen.'

Ron groaned. It was his Auror rejection. 'Did you?'

'I read it, yes, but only because I didn't know what it was. I didn't tell your mother,' he added as an afterthought.

'I'm sorry.'

'Sorry for what?'

Ron's brow furrowed just a bit. 'For not getting into the Auror program.'

'Don't be sorry for that. In fact, I wonder myself what's going on. The Ministry lately has been in disarray. Fudge has stepped down as Minister, of course, but the new guy is worse. There's been firings and missing personnel… and this new Minister doesn't even seem to notice or care. Personally, I plan to make some small enquiries about who did make it into the program. I know of quite a few people who weren't accepted and Tonks, being an Auror herself, is outraged. You should hear her talk.' Mr Weasley chuckled. 'She's rants on about it so, waving her arms and knocking things over.'

Ron smiled slightly.

'Did you tell Hermione?'

Ron nodded.

'How'd she take it?'

'She was disappointed for me, I guess.' Ron shrugged. 'I was hoping to save the small amount of money trainees get and live here…'

'Save? You wouldn't want to move out like the others?'

'Er… No.' Ron flushed and leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubbing his hands over his face.

'This has to do with Hermione, doesn't it?'

Ron felt the tips of his ears turn hot.

'You're only eighteen.'

'I know that,' Ron grumbled.

'Fred was twenty, though. I was just nineteen,' said Mr Weasley, blushing himself. 'Of course we got married before I turned twenty as well. When you know, you know.'

'Er, yeah.'

'And you know don't you?'

'Bloody hell,' muttered Ron, refusing to look up at his father.

'Wouldn't it be great to have a Muggle-born in the family, though?' said Mr Weasley with a dreamy look in his eye. 'She probably knows everything about Muggles, doesn't she? And she wouldn't dare turn her father-in-law down for a lunchtime chat at work about plugs or those didgy-tail cameros.'

Ron snorted.

'ARTHUR!'

Mr Weasley cringed at the sound of Mrs Weasley's shouting voice. 'Oops. I was supposed to be getting more sandwiches – got sidetracked coming up here.' Mr Weasley turned. 'Oh, and I'd re-button that shirt before your mother comes up here. You know how she gets. COMING DEAR!'

Ron looked down at his shirt; some of the buttons were in the wrong buttonhole. Bloody hell.

XXXXXXX

Instead of going downstairs and into the garden, Ron slipped into Hermione's room. He looked around and smiled to himself. Everything was neat and perfect and spotless. He imagined this is what her Head Girl room at Hogwarts must have looked like. He knew it was wrong, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

He'd seen her write in her diary before, once or twice. He didn't want to know all of her personal thoughts, but he was curious to know if she had been putting any thought into their future like he was. It wasn't something that completely preoccupied his mind, but he did think about asking her to marry him. He knew that it might seem rather soon. After all, Bill and Charlie were both almost thirty before they got married, and Percy was still technically unattached. His parents, though, were extremely young when they were married, and Harry's had been wed towards the end of the summer immediately following their seventh year.

Ron flinched and grimaced at the thought of Harry. He pushed the thoughts of the other boy completely out of his head.

When you know, you know.

And Ron knew.

He shuffled through the drawer. She was going to kill him. Still, if he could flip through the most recent entries and find out whether or not it had been on her mind, then it would make it easier for him to accept the task at hand and begin saving money. The question had almost slipped out of his mouth a couple of times, and he was afraid she'd say no if his idiocy won out and he asked her before getting a ring or finding out whether or not it was something she wanted.

Well, of course he knew she wanted it. Didn't he? She wore that stupid paper ring. She said she wanted to marry him. But he was such rubbish at almost everything, could she really be telling the truth? Ron's stomach churned, as it did every time he thought about whether or not Hermione was settling – for him.

'Huh?' Ron didn't find the diary in the drawer. Knowing Hermione she probably moved it or put some charm on it so he wouldn't be able to find it. Instead, he lifted out a stack of letters, all opened, and all addressed to Hermione in somewhat familiar handwriting. There were close to two dozen letters.

Ron didn't want to read the letters, but he opened up one just to see who Hermione was writing to. Upon seeing the signature, his blood began to boil and his ears turned red. He threw the letters back into the drawer.

What the hell was she doing writing to him still? Behind his back?

Ron knew from past experience, and past rows, that he should just let Hermione write her letters and shut up about it. But seeing those letters really was making him angry.

Going back downstairs, Ron made his way to the garden. He spotted Hermione right away, her partially bushy, partially curly, brown hair stood out in the crowd, and his eyes always seemed to be drawn to her anyway. She was talking to Ginny and Hagrid, recently released from St Mungo's almost completely cured but for a small twitch. Hermione saw him and smiled. She waved him over. Ron considered for a fleeting moment going over there, but he ignored her and walked over to one of his brothers instead.

He refused to look over his shoulder. He knew the look that would be on Hermione's face – hurt and anger, the two feelings he was having himself.

XXXXXXX

To Be Continued…