It was not the most uncomfortable meal I had ever eaten, but it was pretty close.
I had a feeling it would be like this- this somber silence that had encased the normally boisterous house I had longed for so much over the past months. How I had yearned to be seated at this disoriented dinner table with my favorite group of gingers - my family. Sometimes, when I had layed in my bunk in the tent with Hermione and Harry, all I wanted was to be in my Cannon's orange bedroom, smelling the waft's of the dinner my mother was making and the clouds of conversation echoing throughout the entire house.
But now, all I heard was clattering forks.
I knew the first meal home, minus one, would be difficult. This was our family time. There was never any meals in bedrooms (except for when you were sick). Never any take-away like Hermione had explained to me in the Muggle world. Never any noisy resturants. Just the Weasleys, at home at the Burrow.
No one had really said anything as we all gathered around the kitchen, in our mix-matched chairs. There was some mumbling as the dishes were passed around, quiet "thank yous" and chews but nothing more.
7 o'clock.
That was Weasley dinner time. My mother made a point of punctuality - made an effort to have some consistency about food after raising six sons.
Tonight, we sat down at the table at 8:15 with only 5 of them.
The thought made my food roll over in my stomach and I set my fork down for a moment to recooperate. Hermione, seated across from me at the table gently raised her eyebrows at me. Questioning.
I just shook my head and gave her a sad smile as she scooped up more mashed potatoes, raising my smile more. She smirked at me and my stomach fluttered for an entirely different reason now, than before.
We hadn't discussed it yet, really. The kiss.
KISSES, I should say.
The kiss Hermione and I shared in the Room of Requirement was our first but not our only, unbeknownst to Harry.
He was preoccupied, swarmed by the warriors who had fought for Hogwarts. We had just been separated from his embrace as he was surrounded by others. Someone had shot off magical confetti and the heavy, dirty air around us suddenly began to lift with the knowledge that he was dead. He Who Must Not Be Named was as dead as a doornail and we were alive.
We. Hermione and I. Harry. Most of my family.
But Hermione was alive.
I had turned to her suddenly, tugging on her elbow to bring her face inches from mine. Screams of victory and peals of laughter boomed around us but after we had locked eyes, the sounds faded.
I pulled her towards me again, gripping her waist as I leaned down to kiss her in the falling confetti.
But that was 3 days ago.
In my poster bed in the boy's dorm later that night, her curled up against my chest, I promised we would talk later. I was too overcome with grief to properly convey to her how I felt about her, how I felt about anything really.
She simply nodded and whispered with a smile, "Later. We have all the time in the world now. "
I continued munching on my mother's chicken, listening to the awkward coughs and chewing until the back door opened and all eyes turned to Kingsley Shaklebolt, Minister of Magic himself.
"Oh," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I thought you would have finished dinner by now. I'm sorry for the intrustion."
My mother, ever the hostess, stood quickly. "Oh, it's alright Kingsley. Let me fix you a plate."
"Thank you, Molly. But I'm fine. I actually just came by to see if I could have a quick word with Miss Granger," He said, in his deep voice. All the gingers, plus Fleur, turned to watch the curly brunette as her head snapped to him in shock.
"Sure," she mumbled, climbing out of the bench she sat on next to Ginny.
"It'll only take a few moments and then you can get back to your supper. I'm sorry," he told her, motioning for her to lead the way into the living room.
"That's quite alright. I was finished anyway. Is everything alright?" I heard her ask before their voices carried them into the other room.
The quiet flutter of eating activity resumed but my mind was preoccipied with thoughts of my favorite girl and the auror in the other room.
What could they be talking about?
Eventually, people began standing up to clear their plates. Bill and Percy stood side by side at the sink, washing the dishes the Muggle way. Harry was helping my mother back up the leftovers. I began wiping down the table but we were all interrupted as footsteps were coming back from the living room.
Hermione appeared first, clearly upset. Her chin was quivering like it does when she's trying not to cry and her shoulders were set back defiantly. She walked right past us, not even acknowledging my prescense, and walked straight to the back door, out into the dark summer night.
Kinglsey stopped in the kitchen, turned towards my curious family.
"I'm sorry. I came to discuss Hermione's arrangements to retrieve her parents from Austrailia but she really didn't like what I had to say."
"What's going on?" I asked him, setting down the dirty dishrag I was holding as Harry came to stand next to me. A united front.
"We discussed the spellwork she had performed on her parents for their safety and with so many Death Eaters still at large and the Ministry still in sheer chaos, I told Hermione it would be best not to fetch her parents for a few weeks, perhaps maybe in the next few months."
"Why does she have to wait so long?" Harry asked/
"It would be such a risk to her safety, travelling halfway across the world, so soon after the battle. She is a war-heroine and the tales of this past year are just starting to spread out to other magical communities. I don't think it's safe. Voldemort's ideology was not just popular in England. She needs to wait longer. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it's not a good idea and she was rather upset about it."
With a few kind words to my parents, Kingsley was about to excuse himself into the living room to Floo back to the ministry when he stopped and turned to Harry and I.
"She's quite intimidating when she's angry. You will give her my apologies?" Harry snorted and my whole family cracked a smile. I nodded and he disappeared.
"Well, he's spot-one with that statement," I said, turning to Harry. "Want to tag-team this one?"
Harry looked at me with an odd expression on his face, before shaking his head. "Nah, why don't you go see if she's okay?" He told me, eyebrows raised.
I stared curiously at him for a moment before turning towards the back door and following Hermione into the breezy night.
In the light illuminating from the tall house I could see her, sitting with her back to me, along the medium-height stone wall that surrounded the perimeter of the garden. She was staring out into the pastures and fields that surrounded the immediacy of the Burrow. As I exited the small wooden gate to approach her from the front, I could see her attention was turned to the forest off in the distance.
"Hey," I muttered quietly when I had gotten close enough to stand in front of her. . I knew she heard me coming. With her sitting on the wall, we were the same height.
"Hi," she said, turning her head to look at me with a sad smile.
The crickets were singing loudly and she was quiet for a moment, like she was listening to the light summer wind disturb the water in the pond.
"In the back of my mind, I knew it was a possibility," she mumbled, sniffling. "I was just so excited about setting their memories straight, I didn't really think about how dangerous it could be."
"Every decent auror left in the ministry is rounding up the last of the Death Eaters as we speak," I told her, trying to be reassuring as I timidly reached over to grab her both of her hands. She smiled up at me, still teary eyed, turning her wrists up to entertwine our fingers.
"They'll get them all and then we can go," I said quietly.
"You remembered," she stated happily.
The night last summer when she showed up at the Burrow, on the edge of a major melt-down as she shook with emotion, I guided her up to my bedroom and held her as she cried.
I had already done it once before, at Dumbledore's wedding, but I learned it was surprisingly simple. She didn't need me to rock her back and forth or try to calm her down, really. She just needed to be held. I locked my arms around her as she had collapsed against my chest, balling the front of my t-shirt in her fist as she sobbed painfully.
I whispered a few words of comfort to her afterward, promising that she would get them back. I would go with her and we'd set them straight. Together.
"'Course I did," I told her playfully. "Although, I'm not looking forward to being a ginger in Austrailia. Think about the sunburn I'll get."
With that, the single greatest thing on the planet reoccured. Hermione laughed.
Not an overly feminine giggle or a manly belly chuckle, but the perfect hearty laugh as she threw her head. The sound filled up every broken cell in my body and made me whole again.
"We'll pack you some sun potion," she said, laughter still breaking up her words. She smiled at me, shoulders shaking as her wide grin faded to a small smile.
"Thanks," I said with a healthy eye-roll.
"Thank you, Ron," she countered back with a sudden seriousness. "You can always make me laugh. You always make me feel better and I don't think I've ever really told you how much I appreciate it."
"Anytime,' I told her with a sudden confidence. I tugged my hands out of hers to lean them against the wall on either side of her hips. As I bent my elbows, my face lowered closer to hers.
"I'll always be there to make you laugh," I muttered, my voice quieter and huskier than I could ever remember. Her beautiful chocolate brown eyes widened with this news and the smile returned to her lips once more.
"And I'll always be around to remind you to wear sun potion."
"Well then," I began, forcing myself to continue before I lost all nerve. "It's a good thing I am so in love with you; we make a good pair."
Her jaw dropped suddenly, eyebrows quirked up with pleasant surprise. Hermione let out a happy gaspy laugh against my face and I took that as all the help I needed. My elbows dropped furthur and my lips captured hers.
The first thing I could focus on was the fact that her lips were curved into a smile against my lips as her fingers wound into my hair, keeping my lips glued to hers.
And there's no place else I would rather be.