Dark eyes sparkling
Cold heart beating
Love never ending
Hogwarts is really not the place it used to be, I thought regretfully, stepping over shards of broken glass, careful not to slice my foot on the jagged edges. Five years after the Great War had ended and still no-one had bothered to re-establish Hogwarts to its rightful place as the best school in Europe. I sighed sadly, reminiscing about all the good times Harry, Ron and I had had in this castle. But, I reflected, as the years had past, even the good times had been dampened by the ever present evil, constantly trying to weave its darkness into the homes and lives of all who had lived here. Many of my fellow classmates had been killed in the ensuing battle – Dean Thomas, Ernie MacMillan, Angelina Johnson and Percy Weasley among them, not to mention all those I had never acquainted myself with. The Order suffered losses too – Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mundungus Fletcher being just two who perished in the final battle. All fought courageously and helped Harry to secure a strong position in which to kill Lord Voldermort.
But with heartbreak and sadness, joy and love always follows.
Harry and Ginny, despite their year apart when Harry's only reason to live seemed to be to murder Voldermort and avenge so many that he had loved and lost, were reunited in the wake of Voldermort's death and married three years later. They now have a beautiful baby boy whom they named Sirius James Potter. Harry is head auror at the ministry of magic and Ginny is about to return to work as an agony aunt and was recently offered the chance to host her own, live, love hour on the WWN. She accepted and her celebrity is increasing.
Mrs Weasley is, of course, chief baby-sitter and hardly lets Sirius out of her sight. Mr Weasley has returned to his job as head of The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, although his pay-packet has increased significantly, due, most likely, to the fact that he saved the lives of hundreds of ministry workers when he defused and discarded of a muggle bomb, planted by the Death Eaters, who had assumed no witch or wizard would ever understand what it was and how it worked – years of Mr Weasley tinkering around with plugs and wires had paid off. Thankfully he and Percy made up before Percy was killed by Narcissa Malfoy, herself now dead, having been struck by a mysterious illness months after the battle.
Lucius Malfoy is, unfortunately, alive and kicking, but not quite as comfortably as he would like – he is currently working as a waiter at a 2 muggle hotel, without his wand – he has been stripped of all his money and status and his magical powers have been binded. He can no longer enter any kind of magical society.
Hagrid still lives on Hogwarts grounds, his home having been enlarged by me to accommodate Grawp and the two of them work as joint gamekeepers. Hagrid and Madame Maxime are still great friends and I personally think that one day it will develop even further…
Severus Snape saved my life and Ron's before killing Rufus Scrimgeour and is now spending the rest of his days in a secure ward at St. Mungo's – I don't think we'll ever know or understand why he did the things he did and where his true allegiance really lay. All I can do is be grateful to him for saving my life and leave the past as it is.
And Draco Malfoy?
Well, he's where our story really begins…
"Ron," I shouted up the stairs of our two-bedroom, detached house, situated right next-door to Harry and Ginny's five-bedroom mansion (we got the caretaker's house, although the only care taken is not to smash any windows when Ron and Harry get a little too vigorous playing Quidditch).
No answer.
"RON!" I yelled impatiently, "Get your bum down here, there's someone to see you!"
Stamp stamp, crash crash, slam, thud thud thud and finally Ron appeared at the top of the stairs, looking thoroughly disgruntled, holding self-consciously onto a towel wrapped around his middle, which was in danger of falling down if he made any sudden movements.
"What?" he asked, none too politely.
I raised my eyebrows.
"Don't take that tone with me. I know perfectly well that crash I heard just now was you pulling down the brand-new shower curtain I had put up yesterday, so if I were you, I would be very nice to me unless you want me to curse you with some ugly red boils, which I'm sure would clash spectacularly with your hair. Are you getting what I'm saying?"
Surprisingly enough, Ron grinned, with a none to innocent gleam in his eye.
"I love it when you talk like that," he said with a wink, walking down the stairs, all thoughts of covering his modesty gone.
"Ron, I can almost see right up that towel!" I said embarrassedly, averting my eyes.
"You love it," he smirked, stepping off the foot of the stairs and walking behind me.
He slipped his arms around my waist and began kissing my neck. I felt the towel fall down, as it landed at his feet.
"Um, Ron…" I began.
"Mmhmm?" he said against my neck.
"Uh, your Mum's in the living room and the door's not shut."
"What?!" he said spinning round, instantly realising his mistake and diving for his dropped towel just as Mrs Weasley said,
"Don't worry Ron; I've seen it all before!"
I turned round to see Ron's face turning an adorable shade of scarlet, the towel clutched tightly in front of him, like a shield.
"And so I said to Mrs Clearwater, 'just because Percy is not alive to support Penelope and Jessica, it doesn't mean that we, that is to say, Arthur and I, won't do our utmost to help Penelope, be that financially, or just by acting as baby-sitters once in a while!'. But of course, Mrs Snooty-Pants said, rather rudely I might add, that Penelope had all the help she needed, but that the thought was appreciated!"
"'Appreciated'," Mrs Weasley repeated disgustedly, shaking her head, "She wouldn't know what appreciation was if it came up and bit her on the bottom! She always did consider Percy lesser than her darling Penelope. But my Percy died honourably and those who knew him should not be ashamed in admitting so-" she said angrily, her voice catching in her throat.
Noticing the warning signs, I said quickly, "Indeed he was and I most definitely am not ashamed to say that. You've got a good family Mrs Weasley."
Mrs Weasley smiled, adding, "Molly dear, please- you're twenty three now and really don't need to act like I'm superior to you in any way."
I returned her smile warmly.
"Sorry, you'd think by now I would've got that into my head, but I think you're always going to be Mrs Weasley to me. You're Ron's mum after all and I treat you with the same respect I show to my own parents."
"You're a lovely girl Hermione and I know Ron thinks so too. I'm sure he'd love to put a ring on your finger someday."
I could feel myself turning pink as I hastily tried to disillusion Mrs Weasley of this crazy idea.
Ron, want to marry me? We weren't even dating for goodness sakes!
"Mrs Weasley, believe me, Ron does NOT want to marry. I know that the scene you witnessed about 15 minutes ago seemed like we were pretty close, but Ron had just been inhaling a little too much of the love potion I'm trying to brew for Fred and George's latest love-line; you know, the one Ginny is endorsing. He really, REALLY, doesn't want me."
More's the pity, I found myself suddenly thinking.
NO! I scolded myself – if you date Ron, there'll be no going back.
Mrs Weasley smiled knowingly.
"You just keep telling yourself that dear."
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open as I gaped soundlessly at her.
Was she really implying what I thought she was?
Just as I was about to ask her exactly what she meant by 'you just keep telling yourself that dear', Ron entered, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and some baggy stone-washed jeans.
Five years had certainly done wonders to Ron's physique: He had finally bulked out, meaning he no longer looked tall and gangly. Gone was the boyish round face and awkward stance and in its place remained a handsome, confident young man.
Oddly, at the sight of Ron, my stomach felt like it was doing a back-flip…
Of course, it was just because we had been talking about him… it didn't mean that I was in love with him… Did it?
To my dismay, Ron sat down right next to me, his leg inadvertently brushing against mine as he did so, sending shivers all down my spine.
I must've noticeably tensed, because I saw Mrs Weasley smile a little too smugly for my liking.
I was really going to have to have a word with her…
"So," said Ron, cutting through my thoughts, "What d'you want?"
"Ron!" I said indignantly. His physical appearance may have improved since he left Hogwarts, but his manners sure hadn't.
"What?!" he asked me in genuine bewilderment.
I rolled my eyes and said to Mrs Weasley, "What your son is really trying to say is that he hopes you're well and wonders whether this is merely a social visit, or whether you have some news that may interest us."
I could feel Ron's gaze on me – I expect he still couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong, or why I had elaborated on what he obviously believed to do exactly what I had said he was asking, just with fewer words.
I really pitied him sometimes.
Mrs Weasley, seemingly immune to Ron's rudeness (or perhaps she was just used to it) cleared her throat and said, "Well Ron, this is not a social visit as such, but I bring good news."
Intrigued, I leant forward, just as Ron did, our hands landing on the same spot on the sofa, his on top of mine. A huge jolt, like electricity, sprung up my arm, causing me to pull my hand away.
Ron stared at me, surprised by my sudden movement, but I could've sworn I saw a little bit of hurt flash in his eyes.
But before I could really look, he broke my gaze and turned back to look at his mother.
Slightly stunned, I quickly collected my thoughts and turned back to Mrs Weasley too, just in time for me to hear her exclaim joyously,
"Fleur and Bill are having TWINS!"
I glanced at Ron who looked like he'd been kicked.
Ever since Ron had first set eyes on Fleur Delacour, he had been smitten. Even when she became engaged to his brother, Bill, he always vied for her attention. Eight years later, he still nurses a soft-spot for her, although I like to think it's the vela part that makes him so attracted to her, rather than her drop-dead beauty; beauty that I could only dream of having.
NOT that I care whether Ron thinks I'm pretty or not! I'd just like to have the stability of knowing that I don't repulse people with my unattractiveness.
Admittedly, my looks have improved somewhat since Hogwarts. My bushy brown hair is now always sleek and easy to be styled, thanks to Fred and George's new Wonder Witch Hair Care line. My body too has changed, although that's more down to maturing than to any magical line. I'm now a curvaceous Size 10 and no longer walk around with a bag of at least twenty books slung over my shoulder, which has improved my posture immensely. I can even pull off heels, a feat I was far too embarrassed to even attempt when I was at Hogwarts.
Someone clearing their throat jerked me out of my musings. I blinked and looked at Ron, who was hastily trying to look as though the news had pleased him and not as though he would've liked to have thrown a tantrum.
"Um," he said gruffly, "Yeah, well, uh, say congratulations to er, Bill and… and Fleur."
He tried to smile, although it ended up looking more like a grimace.
I turned around and smiled at Mrs Weasley too.
"That's wonderful news! Aww, TWO more grandchildren to add to the family!"
Mrs Weasley grinned, adding snidely,
"And may there be many more," she said pointedly to Ron and I.
I saw Ron go very red out of the corner of my eye.
I hastily stood up and mumbled, "I'll just get some wine to celebrate!" and dashed off into the kitchen, where I slammed the door close and leant up against it, trying to pull myself together.
This is bad, bad! I can't even be in a room with Ron anymore without one of us turning red or someone suggesting we get together.
It's WRONG! Ron and I have been the best (well, mostly) of friends for twelve years now and nothing will change that, NOTHING!
I hope.
Or do I?
ARRGGGHHH!!!
Ok, let's just pretend, for a second only, that Ron and I were to get together – what would happen?
Well, I found myself thinking instantly, we'd argue non stop!
So very, very true.
But, well, what if we didn't? Argue so much I mean. Could we ever have a relationship that exceeded just friendship?
As I was about to ponder this very frightening (and, I'm ashamed to admit, slightly exhilarating) possibility, someone tried to open the door, causing me to jump out of my skin and promptly whack my head on the bottom of a cauldron hanging on the back of the door.
"Ow, buggery ow ow ow!! Mother of all things magical, my head!"
In my screaming, I'd backed away from the door and the person who had been trying to open it managed to enter.
It was Ron.
Even with my eyes streaming, I could make out Ron's concerned face. He shut the door behind him and headed towards me.
Totally mortified, I turned away and tried, to no avail, to hide how much
a. I was in pain
and
b. I was embarrassed.
"Hey," he asked worriedly, "Are you alright?!"
Somehow in my pain I managed to find room to think, "Does it LOOK like I'm alright?!?! I've probably got a cauldron-shaped indent in the top of my head now!"
However, to Ron, all I managed to gasp was, "Yeah, I'm fine," before a huge spasm of pain shot through my head, causing me to fall forward. Ron caught me and carefully lowered me to the floor, where I sat for about five minutes with my eyes screwed tightly shut, willing myself not to vomit, before Ron realised he could cast a pain-killing spell, which, thankfully, he immediately did.
Despite my new pain-free existence, I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see Ron's face, which was probably a mixture of concern, disgust and amusement. I felt Ron move beside me and thought he was getting up to leave, but then I felt a hand gently touch my face, making me flinch and open my eyes in surprise.
Ron's face was about three inches away from mine, his eyes oddly unreadable as his gaze bore into mine.
Shocked at his close proximity, I began to pull back, but Ron's hand flew out and caught my arm. I stared at him, startled.
"Hermione," he began huskily, "Please don't pull away. Just listen to me for a second. Earlier, when I was kissing your neck, I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I want you to know that it was the effects of the love potions you've been brewing in the bathroom and not because I'm… I'm in LOVE with you or because I'm a horny bastard!"
I couldn't help laughing at the last bit, but even as I did, I felt my stomach twist in disappointment.
So, he didn't love.
Drat.
I mean good!
Don't I?
Ron looked as though he was waiting for me to reply to what he had just said, so I forced a grin and said,
"I know that. No worries."
Looking immensely relieved that I wasn't cross (and, perhaps, that I didn't think he was in love with me) leant forward and gave me a hug.
For some reason, unfathomable to me, I felt as though I never wanted to let him go – I could've spent the rest of eternity nuzzled up to his neck, breathing in the delightful smell of his aftershave.
Sadly, all good things must come to an end and end it did. Ron let go of me and stood up, already muttering about how starving he was and why we were stupid not to have hired a house-elf, completely oblivious to the tender moment we had just shared.
Well, some things never change.
