A/N: Greetings! Thanks must be given to ninnytreetops for beta-ing this prologue/restoring my dwindling sanity so I will give them - THANK YOU!

If you have read my other fics then this set after Back To Life, Nineteen Days Later, No Reason, Beginning and that general bulk of my just-after-the-war stories. It's all set in the same universe and things from those stories will probably crop up. You don't have to read any of them to understand what is going on, but it wouldn't hurt to read the first bit of Seven Simple Years' twelfth chapter or chapter four of Nineteen Days Later for a bit of background. They're both stand alone chapters so you don't even have to read the rest of those stories.

And on with the story. Hope you guys enjoy this. If not, I'm sorry. At least you didn't have to pay for the disappointment though, right?

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is the creator of Harry Potter, his world and possibly Peter Capaldi. After The Cuckoo's Calling I don't believe anyone isn't J.K Rowling until she has confirmed it.

Ron couldn't remember a time he had been looking forward to a dinner less. In fact, he had been doing everything within his power to prevent the occasion while somehow not being late at the same time. As he avoided a swarm of flying ants by crossing the road, he told himself the reason he was walking so slowly was purely to do with preventing himself from becoming too sweaty under the glare of the sun that was still high in the sky despite it nearly being evening. Even after spending twice as long in the shower as he usually did, Ron still felt like he had a second skin. Rushing would only make things worse. It had nothing to do with trying to keep as much space between him and Hermione's father as possible.

As her house came into view with its red brick driveway and neat garden, Ron reflected that it had been over a month since he had been in the same room as Mr Granger. They probably would have met again sooner if that first meeting in Australia hadn't gone so disastrously wrong. Even now, Ron couldn't pin point the moment things had started to nosedive, although Hermione explaining to her father that he was on a different hemisphere to the one he thought he was on was probably it.

It had been just over a week since Voldemort's downfall that they had buried Fred and, still in more pain that he truly knew, Ron had promised Hermione that he would go to Australia with her. She had been blown away by the gesture but it hadn't been a point of contention for him. If Hermione was leaving the country then he had to be there because the thought being without her was unbearable. The next day she had got plane tickets from somewhere, the day after that the ministry had pushed through Ron's passport application and before he had chance to get used to the idea, Ron was on an aeroplane for the first time in his life with a nervous wreck of a Hermione by his side.

Having used her parents' savings and more organisational skills and underhand magic than Ron thought even she had been capable of, Hermione had secured her parents a rented property in Adelaide for six months, as well as jobs, so finding them only took a couple of hours once they were finally in Australia. The hard part had been Hermione restoring their memories. As she had explained during a hushed conversation in the airport, her mother knew that she and her husband were having their identities changed and moving to Australia while Mr Granger had no idea. It was decided that it would be best if they restored her mother first while her father was out. After a very tense hour waiting outside the small house, Mr Granger left for work, not knowing that this would be the last time he would see his wife Monica. Ron had knocked the door, claiming to be doing a survey on British ex-pats in the city and they had been welcomed in. Before Monica Wilkins had even offered them a drink, Hermione had hit her with the reversal charm and she had slumped on the sofa.

Five nerve-wracking minutes later, she had came to, blinking rapidly as she took in her surroundings. Ron could still remember the way she had frowned, her expression so like Hermione's, at the unfamiliar sitting room before her eyes fell on Hermione.

Time had stood still as mother and daughter stared at each other until, finally the older woman had spoken.

"Did - did you do it?"

Hermione had nodded, the tears she had been holding back for days finally spilling over, and within seconds she was in her mother's arms, both of them sobbing while Ron watched on, shuffling awkwardly. Just as he'd thought about maybe sitting outside to give the two Granger woman some privacy, Mrs Granger finally noticed he was in the room. Her brow knitted in confusion as she looked around as though something was missing.

"Where's Harry?" she had asked, sounding terrified. "He isn't- oh please tell me he isn't-"

"England," Hermione sniffed, pulling back from the hug and smiling. "He's in England. He's fine, perfectly fine."

Mrs Granger sagged with relief before glancing at Ron again. "But Ron's here."

While Ron had tried to work out if she was happy or upset about this and figuring it was best if he stayed silent until he did, she had carried on talking to Hermione.

"But if Harry's in England and Ron is here, then does that mean - did you - did he - are you-?"

Thankfully Hermione had understood whatever it was her mother had been trying to ask and blushed as she nodded. This had started both of them crying again as Ron had been dragged into a group hug, wondering not for the first time how women put up with all the crying they seemed to do.

The next couple of hours had been spent making small talk. They were all too overwhelmed to tackle any serious issues. Every so often Ron would try and contribute something, but it didn't seem necessary. Hermione and her mum looked content to talk about anything that came to mind, never taking their eyes off each other and constantly on the verge of tears. Halfway through a story about her parents jobs, however, Hermione took his hand. This simple gesture belayed the wide smile she wore and Ron knew he was very much needed.

While they briefly went through what was going on back home and how the ministry had helped organise certain aspects of their trip, neither Ron or Hermione discussed any battles or deaths that had occurred over the past several months. Once Hermione had calmed down a little, Ron had suggested he pop to a shop he had seen on the way to house get some food to give her and her mum some time alone. He had dawdled there and back, all the while trying to ignore the tightness around his lungs over not being sure Hermione was safe. Being in a strange country only exacerbated his worries over her well-being. If anything happened to her he would have a clue what to do or where to go. It wasn't until he had returned after taking over an hour to complete a twenty minute journey that he stopped feeling panicky.

Not long after that Wendel Wilkins returned home to find his wife acting very peculiar. She ushered him to the sofa and bustled from the room, muttering something about coffee. Before he could ask her what was wrong, a young woman appeared from nowhere, there was a flash of light and then everything went dark.

When Mr Granger had woken up again, Ron had thought he had come to terms with the story he had been told about the war, Hermione's involvement and him being moved to Australia fairly well. He had been quiet over lunch but the poor bloke had just had a bit of a shock. If it hadn't been for Hermione's worried expression as she explained how they a flight booked for the following evening then Ron would have thought everything was going to be okay. It wasn't until they had begun packing up the Grangers' possessions (a job made infinitely easier once Hermione had expanded the capacity of a few suitcases so things like wardrobes could be packed with ease) that Hermione had confessed that it was a never a good sign when her father was as quiet as he had been and that she was worried about his lack of questions.

Ron didn't tell her but he was a lot more worried about the glare he had received from her father when he seen him holding Hermione's hand during lunch.

They had been downstairs, transferring the contents of a large bookshelf in the living room into a small overnight bag when Mrs Granger had called for Hermione to help her, leaving Ron alone with Mr Granger. What happened next Ron knew he would probably regret for a very long time.

What started out as a stilted but polite conversation about the weather had somehow turned onto the subject of Hermione and how different she looked. Ron, having spent nearly every waking moment with her for sixth months, hadn't really noticed anything other than her hair being a lot shorter than normal. He had been there in his kitchen as his mum had cut it after all. But something in Mr Granger's tone had sounded like an accusation and maybe it was the jet lag or the heat or how he had barely stopped moving since Fred, but it wasn't long before Ron was shouting.

He still couldn't remember what he or Hermione's dad had said, until he heard two pairs of feet, cannoning down the stairs towards them. They were both on their feet, fists clenched and packing long forgotten.

"Look at her!" Mr Granger had roared, gesturing to Hermione in the doorway. "She's clearly ill!"

"You don't understand!" had been Ron's furious reply. "She's fine!"

"Do not tell me my daughter is fine! She is not fine! She is very far from fine and you let it happen!"

The old fear that he had let Hermione down mixed with the hunger and agony of the past year and soon Mr Granger's words were being drowned out by the sound of her screaming and his own voice calling for her, begging for it stop, the damp smell of the cellar, his fingers bloody from desperately clawing the walls-

And then there was silence but for his ragged breath.

The room was in focus and all he could see was Hermione's father, pale and scared, a wand directed at his face. A split second later Ron had realised the wand was his own and he dropped it as though it had caught fire.

Without a word, he had stumbled backwards, away from the scene. He had pulled a wand on a Muggle. Not just any Muggle, but Hermione's father. There was no coming back from this. Shame was almost choking him as he had sprinted into the garden and leant against a tree. It was only when he a had forced a himself to breathe again that he noticed how much he was shaking and the tears on his cheeks.

The sight of Hermione's front door made Ron snap back into the present. He knew this day would come eventually. If he expected to be with Hermione he would have to have dinner with her parents occasionally. That aside he knew he would have to somehow make up for his behaviour in Australia. Both of them had stiffly apologised a few hours after the incident but Ron knew he still wasn't trusted.

Tonight was to be the first step of his long journey back into the Grangers' good books. He couldn't stand on the front step all night.

So that was the prologue. Entire first proper chapter is almost written so it shouldn't be a million miles away. Thank you for reading!