My first Romione story - which managed to break the writer's block I had in regards to my other stories that I'm currently trying to finish.

A big R/H shipper (though previously written stories say otherwise) - I have been nervous to write one - as a lot of R/H stories here are terribly amazing, and I didn't think I had the ability to keep up. Hopefully those who enjoy R/H stories will find a way to enjoy this as well.


"Maybe we should keep the house? Use it as a rental property…or a vacation home when London becomes too dreary during the winter?"

Hermione heard her mother speaking, but the words weren't quite registering. Since she successfully restored her parents' memories, she'd been helping tie up her parents' affairs in Sydney. Their house was a quaint, ocean view bungalow where Hermione spent time walking with her parents, barefoot on the beach, as she recounted the past year to them, one piece at a time. She sat out on the long porch swing, holding a bottle of water with two hands as the bottom of it perched atop the knees she had bent up to her chest.

"Hermione? Darling? Are you there?"

She looked up, wisps of her hair fluttering back in the warm breeze as she wore her unruly mane back in a curly ponytail. "Sorry…I guess my head was somewhere else."

Jean Granger chuckled lightly as she sat down next to her daughter, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, taking note once again of her unusually thin frame. "I know we've talked a lot this summer…about everything you and your friends went through…but I don't think I've told you how sorry I am. How sorry both your father and I are, that we were unable to protect you."

Her eyes widened in horror. "Sorry? Why on earth would either of you be sorry? I'm the one that used magic against you! I'm the one that moved your entire life! If anyone should be sorry it's me - and I am - truly. I just didn't know how to save you. It was the only thing I could think of at the time."

"But we're your parents," Jean argued. "You'll understand what I mean…someday when you have children of your own."

Hermione dropped her head onto her mother's shoulder and sighed. "No one could protect us. We hardly knew how to protect ourselves," she confessed. "We were just making it up as we went along. Half the time we had no idea what we were doing." This was the honest truth of it all, when Hermione reflected on the past year. There were moments where she had no idea how she was even still alive - how any of them were alive. Harry, her parents, Ron - the odds were stacked so high against them but somehow, in the end, they were all standing.

Well, not all of them were standing. While she spent the summer with her parents, she knew the Weasley family was back where they belonged at the Burrow, mourning the loss of Fred. Harry's letter last week said that George was doing a bit better, but was still refusing to step foot in the shop. Hermione wrote back, and told Harry to tell the others to give him time. He'll go when he's ready, she wrote back with a heavy heart.

"You're certain about going back to school?" she heard her mother ask gently, feeling her fingers tuck some of the loose strands of hair back behind her ear like she used to do when Hermione was a little girl.

She nodded quickly, her fingers denting the bottle some more in a rushed, jerky rhythm. "I have to go back. I've worked too hard to quit."

"I was wondering where my girls went." Hermione and Jean both looked over their right shoulders and found Richard Granger standing on the porch in a very busy beach shirt with his khaki shorts. "Is there room on that swing for me?"

Hermione nodded, patting the empty space on her other side.

Richard took a seat next to his daughter and linked an arm with hers; clapping both of his hands around one of hers as she willingly relinquished her two handed hold on the water bottle. "Everything's packed. The movers say that everything we're shipping should arrive back home in a few days."

"Great," Hermione absently replied, her focus back out on the ocean, watching as the waves from the tide folded over one another as the beach soaked up what it could before the water's inevitable retreat.

Jean and Richard exchanged glances, the same glance as they both had an unspoken moment regarding the wellbeing of their daughter. "Button," Richard said, using the pet name he'd had for his only child since she was an infant - due to his infatuation with what he often referred to as her absolutely adorable button nose. "Are you sure you're ok to go back to school? We know you've…you've been through a lot, and your mother and I just want what's best for you."

"Obviously with what you've been through, you'll never be the same," Jean sympathetically replied. "But you've been staring off a bit more than usual."

The sound of the ocean was a relaxing one, lulling even as Hermione breathed in sync with the slow rolling tide. She found it calming when her mind began to wander. She'd been in Australia since May 6th - three entire months - and she missed London. She missed the smell of freshly mowed grass at the Burrow and the sound of the lopsided cuckoo bird that lunged out of the infamous Weasley clock at the top of every hour. It was the longest she'd been separated from Harry since the summer before their sixth year. She would ask him how he was coping in each letter, and he always responded with come home and you'll find out.

Aside from the brief moment during the year when Ron deserted her and Harry because of that bloody horcrux, it was the longest she'd been away from Ron since fifth year - when she spent the majority of the summer with the Weasleys instead of touring Europe with her parents. She would ask Harry how Ron was in her letters as well, and Harry would always say he misses you. He won't say it out loud - because he's a stubborn fool - but he misses you. We all do. She missed him too, of course. Despite their heated kiss in the midst of a battle, Hermione wasn't really sure where either of them stood with one another. They found out about Fred's death soon after that kiss, and suddenly nothing in regards to the two of them seemed important anymore. Ron lost a brother. Molly and Arthur lost a son. George lost his other half. At that moment, all that mattered was defeating Voldemort. The kiss they shared wasn't anywhere on anyone's radar.

At least, she didn't think it was.

But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss Ron. She missed him every day. The longer she was away, the dull ache in her chest grew. She'd call him on the phone she knew Arthur had so she could hear his voice, but knew Ron felt awkward using the muggle device, and his end of the conversation would be a lot of hmm-ings and a lot of uh-huhs. She wrote him a letter once a week, always careful to keep her feelings somewhat reigned in on the chance that he'd changed his mind over the summer. His replies were always short, evading any question she may have asked. Hermione couldn't complain though. The fact that he even bothered writing back at all - as often as he did no less - spoke volumes in itself.

"Hermione? Hermione are you hearing me?" Jean asked again, brushing a hand over Hermione's head.

Nodding quickly, she looked over at her mother and gave a weak smile. "I just miss home," she confessed, hoping for the moment that it was a vague enough answer to her mother's inquiry.


"Just send it."

Ron looked up at Harry and scowled. "Don't you have a girlfriend to snog?"

"Are you encouraging me to snog your sister?"

"I am if it means that you leave me alone."

Harry plopped down on the sofa next to him, looking at what appeared to be several pieces of parchment with his chicken scratch handwriting adorning each page. "If you wait too much longer, it won't get to her before she gets on the plane."

Ron groused, dropping the quill in his hand on top of the thin stack of parchment. He'd been working on this particular letter all summer. Every time he thought he finished it, he would think of something else, but now, now he had nothing else to say. Everything was written down on paper. His thoughts, his feelings, everything he could think of that she would want to hear - that he needed her to read - was stained in ink against the cream colored parchment. He made a special trip to Diagon Alley to purchase this particular stack of parchment. He knew it was Hermione's favorite. It has the best smell, she would always say at the beginning of each year. Wouldn't you agree?

In Ron's opinion - parchment was parchment – though he always agreed with her when she asked. In a noncommittal way, of course. He never wanted to appear too enthusiastic to agree with her, unless of course he'd rightly mucked things up. Like he did earlier in the year when he left the two of them alone in the forest. A large part of the letter he'd written was himself expressing a comprehensive apology for leaving the two of them. He confessed to her about what the locket said to him when Harry opened it the night he returned, knowing he'd never be able to speak about the events, or the scene that played before him while his best friend screamed from the other side to kill it.

"You know you'll never give it to her in person," Harry urged, a gentler tone in his voice as he nudged his best friend.

"I know," Ron confessed.

"She loves you."

"You don't know that."

Harry could hardly stifle the snort. "No. Of course not. There's no way I could know that she loves you - with the numerous fights I've been subjected to by the two of you over the years, or how she cried when she saw you snog Lavender, or the nights she spent sobbing, praying for your return when you left. She also snogged the living daylights out of you after you wanted to warn the house elves. But you're right - there's no way she loves you. Not even the slightest bit. Just ignore me. I have no idea what I'm saying."

Ron's cheeks faintly blushed at the mention of their untimely kiss. He hardly knew what to do with himself when he suddenly found her lunging towards him, her arms thrown around his neck. But the moment her lips found his - he knew that moment would be one of the best moments of his entire life. "You really think she loves me?"

"Yes," Harry decisively replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

He sighed, his lips bumbling as he exhaled. "I left her."

"You came back."

"But I left her," Ron repeated. "She begged me to stay and I left her."

"But you came back," Harry emphasized. "And she's forgiven you. She knew it was the horcrux telling you to leave."

Ron scoffed. "And I was just a weak git, not able to block out the lies it was telling me."

"It was dark magic - it made all of us mental."

"You didn't leave."

"It didn't affect me the way it affected you," Harry rebutted.

The two friends sat in silence; the only noise was from the clock on the wall. Ron glanced up at it, watching the second hand tick as the arms up top pointed to where everyone was. His dad put two new arms on it over the summer - one for Harry and one for Hermione a few weeks after Hermione had left for Australia. Those first few weeks, Ron was quite convinced that he would go mental before Hermione came home. He constantly worried about her, and wished her letters would come daily instead of weekly. I'm not sending a letter daily, she told him in a letter the first week she was gone. Do you know how long of a flight that is for an owl? It's cruel! A letter a week will have to do - the owl is still quicker than the muggle post. Ron knew his dad put the arm up for Hermione to make him feel better, seeing it consistently point to away instead of somewhere worse. He also knew he put one up for Harry not only because he was a part of the family, but so that he didn't get too much of a ribbing from his brothers - which would have been embarrassing if an arm had only been placed for her.

Ron wouldn't mind a good ribbing from George though, if he were honest. Hearing George taking the mickey out of him would mean that he was feeling better - maybe not a lot, but a little bit. He'd yet to play a single prank all summer, but his mum wasn't worried. Georgie will snap out of it when he wants to, his mum would say as she fussed around the kitchen. His loss is a bit different than ours. He'll come back to us when he's ready.

He scratched the back of his neck as he stared at the letter. "When does her flight leave?"

"Tomorrow at 9:50pm Sydney time. She'll arrive at Heathrow at 3:00pm on Saturday."

"That's like, an entire day!" Ron exclaimed. "Why does it take so long?"

Harry laughed. "Australia is a bit of a jaunt. It's practically on the other side of the earth - so far the Ministry doesn't even allow you to disapparate there from here because it's too far - you'd be splinched halfway there. Kingsley offered to set up port keys, but Hermione said she'd prefer to fly the muggle way."

Ron shuddered at the thought of being splinched - again. "She mentioned something about a layoff in her last letter."

"A layover," Harry nonchalantly corrected him. "They have a three hour layover in Abu Dhabi - it's in the Middle East - near Egypt."

You're not still showing that bloody picture to everyone are you? Ron could hear Fred asking him in his head, back from when they went to Egypt as a family the summer before his third year. "I wouldn't mind going back to Egypt. It was an amazing trip."

Harry smirked. "Take Hermione with you when you go. She loves history - and was put out all summer when she thought about all the ancient artifacts you were getting to see, and how you probably weren't appreciating it properly."

"I probably didn't," Ron replied with a half laugh. "Do you think she's going to go back to school?"

"Of course she is."

"I figured as much," he said with a heavy sigh. "I don't think I can go back. And not just because of Fred."

"I know," Harry replied, understanding and sharing the sentiment. "I'm taking up Kingsley's offer - I start auror training the third week of September. Are you coming with?"

Ron shook his head and picked up the parchment from the coffee table, folding it over three times. He pressed his fingers firmly into each crease. "I'm deferring admittance until January. George…he'll eventually go back to the shop, and when he does, I want to help." Grabbing the envelope his mother gave him earlier that morning, he carefully placed the slightly thick bundle into the envelope and sealed its shut with his wand. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

He scratched his nose before picking up the quill, dipping it in ink so he could address the letter to Hermione. "When we were on the horcrux hunt…when you were away from Ginny…how did it feel?"

Harry was unsure how to answer the question, knowing he was treading a fine line between best friend and overly protective brother when it came to Ginny. "Like, how did it feel being away from her?"

Ron nodded as he finished addressing the letter. "When I left you two…I felt guilty and I felt ashamed. When we left her at the airport in May, I felt…I don't know. It was different - Like I know my heart's beating, but I don't feel it working."

"It's numb," Harry stated.

"Yeah! Exactly!" Ron exclaimed, relieved that Harry understood him.

"That's how I felt when we left Ginny at the wedding," Harry replied. "And when I would watch her footprints on the Marauders Map…my soul…it just felt…empty."

Nodding, Ron slouched back against the well-used sofa and sighed. "Merlin…we sound like a couple of poufs, talking like this. Hermione once told me I had the emotional range of a teaspoon."

Harry laughed as he too, slouched back against the couch. "I remember that day."

"There's more than a teaspoon in that letter," Ron decisively stated. "I just hope I didn't ruin everything…and that what I wrote her is enough to fix it."

Clapping a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder, he squeezed it ever so slightly and nodded towards the letter. "People we love, and love us in return, have an uncanny ability to forgive us for all the other times when we manage to royally botch it up."

Sighing, Ron summoned every ounce of courage he had and pulled himself up off of the couch, snatching his letter as he stood upright. "I love her. I reckon I always have."

"I know you do."

"I can't…I don't feel anything without her."

Harry scratched the back of his head. "I swear, mate, she feels the same way."

"She loves me?"

"She loves you."

Ron looked back at his best friend and raised his brow. "If you're wrong about this, I'll bloody kill you."

"Go ahead," Harry replied with a cocky smirk. "But we both know I'm right."


"One last walk along the beach?" Hermione asked her parents as they walked towards her. It was nearly dusk, the cool breeze from the ocean lightly flowing through the air as the sun disappeared.

Richard pecked his wife's cheek as he held her hand. "It's one of the things we'll definitely miss. You certainly picked a beautiful spot to send us, Button."

Hermione gave a small smile as she stood next to the rental car. Her beaded bag was all she planned on taking with her on the plane. Her parents thought she was mental, but when she showed them the undetectable extension charm and feather charm, they demanded she do the same to their bags so that they could pack a few extra things to keep them amused during the two long flights back home.

"Why did you pick Sydney, anyway?" Jean inquired as she slipped her feet back into her sandals.

Pulling her wand from her pocket, she muttered a quick scourgify at her parents feet, ridding them both of the gritty feel of the small granules of sand that stayed against their skin despite several quick brushes. "I wanted you both as far away as possible…and this was as far away as I could think of."

Eyeing his daughter, Richard approached her and placed his strong hands softly against her almost full cheeks. His wife had been feeding her every chance she had, and while she was still too thin for his tastes, her cheeks weren't as gaunt as they were when their memories were restored. He Eskimo kissed her nose with his and then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're a very brave girl, Hermione Jean. I couldn't be more proud of you - my brilliant little witch."

She blushed as his thumbs brushed against her cheekbones. "I'm not little anymore, Daddy."

"You're always little to me," Richard promised. "Now, are we ready to get back home?"

Hermione enthusiastically nodded. "Very much so."

Richard dug the car keys from his pocket and tossed them back to his wife, who had been the 'driver' of the family for as long as Hermione could remember. Her mother said it was because her father drove like a lunatic, and she preferred to arrive at her destination in one piece. Her father argued that it wasn't him that was the bad driver - but instead it was all of the other idiots on the road who couldn't follow signs. When Hermione got ready to learn to drive, it took about ten minutes into the lesson with her father before realizing that her mother was right – he wasn't just terrible at driving – he was downright awful.

Sitting in the back seat with his daughter, Richard was all too pleased when Hermione curled up against him, just as she did when she was little. Many a time was spent between the two of them, just like this when she was younger, and then over the summer when she came home from school. He kissed the top of her head and felt her sigh against him. "Did you read your letter from Ron yet?"

She shook her head no as her mother glanced at the two of them through the rearview mirror. "I opened it…but figured I'd save it for the plane. It'll give me something to read."

"Like you're going to run out of things to read," Jean replied with a laugh. "I saw you pack that bag. You have a miniature library in there. What do you have those books for anyway?"

"Homework," Hermione replied. "I like to read ahead before school starts so I'm adequately prepared for lessons."

"Adequately prepared," Richard scoffed playfully. "I'm sure you're always more than adequately prepared for anything, Button."

"Of course," Hermione outwardly agreed, though internally she still beat herself up over not having been more prepared before she, Ron, and Harry left for the horcrux hunt. She should have thought more about food. She should have been quicker to change direction when disapparating from Yaxley's hold so that Ron's arm wouldn't have been splinched so terribly. She could name a hundred more things if she thought about it hard enough, but what was the point? The war was over, and their side won. Everything else – the uncertainty of everything, the horror, the hunger, the torture, and the kiss – was all in the past.

It wasn't hard maneuvering through the Sydney airport. Their luggage was quickly checked, their rental car was returned, and before Hermione realized it, their boarding call was echoing throughout the intercom system. That must have been the beauty of a late night, international flight, Hermione thought to herself as she sat down next to her parents in the waiting area next to their departing gate. The Ministry was much too generous in her opinion, flying her to Australia on a first class ticket and then flying her and her parents back the same way. Of course, Kingsley wouldn't hear any of her arguments. It's the very least we can do, he implored, and Hermione eventually gave up fighting him.

Each first class passenger was designated an individual pod to sit in, complete with a chair that turned into a bed, a television to watch movies, and pillows to make their long flight more comfortable. Hermione sat in the middle pod of the three seats reserved in the vertical row under Granger. Her father was in front of her, her mother behind her. The nerves pooling in her stomach were almost enough to make her wretch, but she quelled the urge as one flight attendant passed out complimentary headphones and eye masks while another secured the doors. She ignored the mundane instructions as to what passengers should do in case of an emergency and rooted through her bag, elbow deep for a few moments until she found the thick envelope she was looking for.

Hermione was quite surprised at the volume of the envelope as she immediately recognized Ron's handwriting on the outside. She assumed he sent other letters along with his - sometimes he put in a letter from his sister - though the end result was never this hefty. Carefully, she peeled the envelope open as the plane began its ascent into the sky and pulled out what seemed to be not just a few - but several pieces of parchment. Quickly scanning them, she recognized his handwriting on every page, and her heart jumped a little bit. Was a good thing he wrote this much? Was it a bad thing? Ron wasn't a writer. He moaned and groaned at any sort of homework scroll that required more than six lines. Yet here in her hands were at least five pages, filled from top to bottom, with his words.

The nerves in her stomach were proving hard to suppress as her eyes glanced across the beginning of the letter – but she was not about to lose her dinner over a letter. Silently reprimanding herself to pull it together, she felt the plane level itself out from the prior ascent, the seatbelt light dinging before clicking off. Hermione curled up with the small airplane pillow, hitting the button to recline her seat while the front of it extended with a footstool to support her legs, and began to read.

Hermione,

I should have put dear in front of your name, I reckon, but I didn't think about it until this moment. I've started this letter loads of times, but this one I've managed not to crumple up and toss in the rubbish bin. I of course burned all of the ones I tossed – can't risk anyone finding all of them and wondering if I've lost my bloody mind.

I'm glad you're coming home this week. Mum and Dad say we can go to the airport to greet you. Me, Harry, Ginny, and Mum and Dad anyway. Everyone else is gone. Charlie went back to Romania on Monday, Bill and Fleur are with her parents for a few weeks, and George…well, he's getting better I reckon. He comes downstairs now and eats with us. Of course he doesn't say much, but no one pushes him. We're just glad he comes downstairs at all.

With you gone all summer, it's given me a lot of time to think about things…things that I've completely buggered up over the years, and how I probably owe you a million apologies over the years we've known each other, and there's loads of things I wish I could take back. I'm sure you know that though – of course – with the way I've acted, I'm sure you've given up on waiting for an apology. I wouldn't blame you if you did, though after thinking this entire summer, I'm rather surprised you're still my friend at all. I don't deserve a friend like you, Hermione. But I wish I did.

She didn't notice the tears that slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes as she moved onto the next page until they landed on the parchment.

I wish I could take back so many things. I wish I hadn't called you mental during first year. Everyone knows you were in the bathroom all day crying about what I said. You wouldn't have been in danger with the troll if I wouldn't have been so cruel.

I wish I hadn't laughed at you when you turned into a cat after we used that first batch of polyjuice potion. I knew you were embarrassed, and I knew you handled embarrassment just about as well as I did – or do. I should have hugged you instead of laughing at you. I did give you my only chocolate frog though when we came to see you in the infirmary. You were asleep though, and I didn't put my name on it, so you probably didn't even know it was me who left it for you.

I should have asked you to that stupid Yule Ball. I wanted to ask you – I did – I was just terrified you would've said no. I expected as much, knowing you could do better. Not every girl gets asked to a dance by a world famous quidditch player, but of course you would. I kept telling myself you were making up your 'date' – that you just wanted to save face in front of me and Harry – but I mostly kept telling myself that you were making it up because the thought of you going to a dance with someone other than me…it made me feel like the biggest prat in the world because I could've, and should've asked you first. But I didn't. It's just as well, I guess. You were beautiful that night, and had you gone with me, you would have been standing next to a clown.

I never told Mum this – but I burned those robes that night. It was, honestly, the only proper thing to do with them.

Hermione stifled a laugh. She thought their room smelled a bit off the next day, though neither Harry nor Ron was talking about it. It smells like something's burning, Ginny had said with a turned up nose, while Hermione agreed. Seamus blew up another spell, Harry easily lied for Ron, who was still embarrassed by his actions the night before. At first I thought it was his wand…now I just think it's the operator, Harry added for a good laugh.

She moved onto the next page, her breath catching as her eyes continued to follow the scratchy script.

I never should have kissed Lavender. I never should have dated her. I never should have let her parade me in front of you. I knew it bothered you. I told myself you were just mad because we didn't hang out anymore, but a part of me knew. A part of me that was too scared to admit my feelings for you knew that you had to have felt the same way. Why else would you have been so mental? Why else would I've felt so guilty?

I know I muttered your name in my sleep after being poisoned. I almost told you that I knew once, but then Harry came back with that fake locket, Dumbledore died, and I knew that everything was about to change for the worse.

I should have kissed you the night we moved Harry to the Burrow. I saw the relief on your face when you flung your arms around my neck and hugged me once Tonks hopped off the broom and I morphed back into, well, me. I'd waited years for you to hug me like that – the same way you always hugged Harry when he returned to us unscathed all those times and the one time you did it – all I could do was be a git and assume that your tone of surprise was not in awe, but in shock that I could handle something dangerous. It was never me doubting your sincerity – it was always me and the voice in my head that assumed you didn't want me…the way I wanted you. After all – what's so special about me? I'm just Ron Weasley. The youngest Weasley boy. Nothing I ever did was first – my brothers made sure of that. Then Harry came into our family and competing with the Boy-Who-Lived was never going to get me anywhere. Not that I regret befriending Harry. He's my best mate. But I wished my mum fussed over me sometimes in the same way she fusses over him.

Except this summer, of course. I've not really wanted to be around anyone, and Mum's decided to focus on Harry while she does her best to respect George's need for space. Harry lets her of course, and to be honest, he probably deserves it more than anyone I reckon. It's the first summer since he found out he was a wizard that he hasn't had to think about defeating Voldemort. The first summer for us too, I reckon.

"Hermione? Darling are you alright? You're crying!"

Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw her mother staring at her with utter concern. "I'm fine," she promised, wiping her stray tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm just…reading Ron's letter."

"Is everything ok?"

She nodded, handing her mother the first three pages she'd managed to finish.

Jean hesitated for a moment before taking the parchment. "You sure this isn't…private?"

"It's ok," Hermione reassured her mother. She resituated herself in her seat, sniffling slightly as she moved onto finish the rest of the letter.

I know I tried apologizing to you…you know…after I left…and Harry swears you've forgiven me but I'm not sure you can because you don't know the story. If I were in your shoes, there's no way I'd have forgiven you for deserting me. Of course, I would never have to worry about that, as you've always been loyal to a fault. You wouldn't have left like I did, no matter how mental you were because of a horcrux.

I was hurt from the splinching, despite your amazing attempts to heal me as fast as you could. You really ought to consider a career as a healer, though I know you'd rather be fighting for the rights of elves, werewolves, and others who need someone to be a voice for them. That damn horcrux…every time I wore it I could hear it filling my brain with lies, but the longer I wore it the more vulnerable I became, and the lies started to feel like reality.

It was hard not to believe that you would prefer to be with Harry over me. After all, Harry never made you cry. He never called you insufferable, or mental, or made you feel like you didn't matter. I did all those things. I can't count how many times Harry had to explain you to me, always with this look on his face, as if he were telling me to quit being so thick – but I could hardly help it! My feelings for you were always so confusing that the only way I knew how to be was thick! He's also better looking than me I reckon. He might be a gangly, specky-eyed git, but it's probably better than being a ginger. He can at least hide his scar – my hair may as well be a neon sign shouting to everyone that I'm one of many, poor Weasleys roaming about the Wizarding world.

When I saved Harry from the pond – when he found the sword Snape left for him – he made me be the one to kill it. He said I had to, because if I didn't, there was no reason to be back. So he opened it, speaking to it with parseltongue and when it opened…I can't describe it. It was so much worse than the diadem, or the Hufflepuff Cup. It was personally attacking me, telling me that my fears were true. Then it manifested a version of you and Harry – telling me – taunting me that I was nothing. That you were better without me. That my mother would have rather had Harry as a son, and that you could never love me. That was the final straw – the horcrux version of you telling me that I was nothing. But I'm not nothing! So I channeled my rage and ran at it like a crazy man and the horcrux was dead with one strike.

Choking back a sob, Hermione wordlessly handed the finished page backwards to her mother, who took it without looking up, as she too was engrossed with the letter. She was embarrassed that Ron felt that way – that he felt like she didn't think he was good enough. Of course she thought he was good enough. She'd been in love with him since fourth year! Every time Victor tried to kiss her during fourth year, she ducked; because all Hermione could think of was Ron, and how she wished he would have plucked up the courage to choose, to want, to even love her.

I meant every word I said to you when I came back. I heard you through the deluminator. I heard you say my name. I heard the tone of your voice, the pleading, and I knew the deluminator would bring me back to you, and it did. I'll always be grateful to Dumbledore for leaving it to me. It was a lifesaver. It brought me back to you, and I swear, Hermione, the moment I left I knew it was a mistake.

I'll tell you what wasn't a mistake though – and that was the thing we didn't talk about. The kiss. I was surprised, yes, but it was the best sort of surprise, Hermione. Had Harry not told us to knock it off 'til later, I would have been perfectly content to snog you senseless. In fact, when I've missed you the most this summer, I think back to that moment, and hope that maybe, you'll let me return the kiss. After all, I always imagined I'd kiss you first. But had I known that caring about those elves would have inspired you as such, I probably would have joined your S.P.E.W. group with a little more gusto.

If this summer taught me anything, it's taught me this. I never want to leave you again.

I never want you to leave me again.

I know it's inevitable though. You're going back to school – and I'm certain you'll be named Head Girl. I'm deferring my auror training until January so I can be here to help George when he decides to reopen the shop. I'll be done with training the same day you'll be finished with school.

I don't know what the future has in store for you or for me, but I can tell you this – I don't want a future without you in it. I don't care what else happens to me from here on out – I just want you with me. I need you as much as I want you, and I don't care how dumb that sounds. I feel nothing without you. I'm not complete without you.

I'm sure you think I'm completely mental by now, but I promise I'm as clear headed as ever. Your parents might not find me good enough for their only daughter, but I promise to prove to them that I am good enough, if you'll have me of course. I promise to prove to you every day, if you'll have me, that I'm good enough for you. I'm tired of constantly thinking back to everything I've botched up and ruined between the two of us. I just want to look forward to my future, and I just want you to be a part of it.

I really hope you're feeling the same way. I'm going to look like a right fool if you don't. If you don't feel the same way though, could I at least get a hug still when you see me at the airport? I've missed you more than I've ever missed anything – including food – these past three months. I'd settle for a hug from a friend…if that's all you see me as. I hope you don't though.

I'm hoping that you love me as much as I love you.

See you in a bit,

Ron.

Finishing the letter, Hermione wiped away the remainder of her tears, though it proved to be a fruitless effort as more tears continued to spill over her eyelids. Sighing, she re-read the same line over and over again, I'm hoping you love me as much as I love you, until her mother beckoned for the final page. "Ronald Weasley," she said under her breath as she finally acquiesced the final page of what was quite possibly the only love letter he would ever write. "What an idiot."

"But he's your idiot," she heard her mother say with an amused tone in her voice.

Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and reached in her bag, rooting around until she felt a familiar scratchy fabric. Pulling it out, she slipped her arms into the maroon jumper and pulled it over her head to warm her up on the crisply cooled airplane. "He is my idiot," she mumbled to herself as her arms crossed against the cream colored "R" that was knit in the middle before lightly dozing off to sleep.


Ron heard a knock on his bedroom door, finding his sister peeking inside. When they were both little, Ginny used to sneak into his room at night, found by their parents in the morning snuggled up next to each other, their heads barely peeking out from under the covers.

"Can I come in?" Ginny asked, dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. Her long auburn hair was piled up on the top of her head in a messy bun. "Harry's downstairs with George…they're talking to each other."

Arching an eyebrow, he waived his sister in and threw part of his covers away from him. Ginny took this as an open invitation and crawled into bed with her big brother, curling up next to him with her head resting on his shoulder. "Talking's good," Ron said, giving his sister a reassuring hug with one arm. "Harry might be the best sort of person for George to talk to."

Ginny nodded. "That's why I let them be. I didn't want George to stop talking, you know? He needs to talk."

"Maybe they can help each other," Ron suggested before sighing, glancing over at the clock on his nightstand. He wondered where Hermione was at that moment - what part of the world she was flying over - and what she'd thought about his letter. "How have you been doing?" he asked his sister after a few moments of silence washed over the two of them. "I see you and Harry are better."

Nodding again, Ginny shifted closer to her brother and hugged him close to her. "He finally told me everything that happened the other night," she confessed to her big brother. "He told me about the Horcruxes…and what they did to all of you."

His mouth went dry, not really sure what to say to his sister about those bloody pieces of dark, potentially life ruining magic. "It was awful," he managed to speak a few minutes later. "I put something in the letter I sent to Hermione about those damn things. I'm sure she'll want to talk about it, of course, but I reckoned it'd be easier to sort out in person if I wrote to her about it first."

"She loves you Ron," Ginny quietly whispered. "She loves you so much - and Merlin knows you've done your damnedest to muck it up - but she loves you all the same."

Exhaling slowly, he hugged his sister again and pulled the covers up over the two of them. "I hope you're right."

"I am right, you big dolt," his sister scolded with a tired laugh.

Silence fell between them once more, but it was a comfortable one. Ginny was the family member Ron missed the most while they were away last year, naturally, as the two of them were almost as close to each other as Bill and Charlie, or George and Fred. No one was close to Percy - he kept everyone at an arms length - though with his many appearances at the Burrow this summer, both Ron and Ginny both were wondering if he was beginning to regret that mode of operation. Ron was of the opinion that Percy's actions had to speak louder than words at first - that he had to earn his place back into the family he so quickly discarded in pursuit of climbing the ranks in a corruptly run Ministry of Magic. Harry, of course, reminded Ron to not be so harsh with casting stones, as he left and returned, and was accepted no questions asked.

Ron, however, thought their situation was completely different. Percy was gone for years. Ron was gone several weeks, spending each day desperately trying to find a way back to them. He understood Harry's point, though, and managed to keep the sneering and scoffing to a minimum when he came over to the house. George didn't, though. In fact, one of the highlights of the summer was Percy's first visit to the Burrow. He walked over to give George a hug and before he could open his arms, George took one mighty swing and knocked his older brother out, not even bothering to apologize before stepping over Percy and retreating back up to his room. When Percy came to, Charlie was the first to pull him up to his feet, but not before mentioning that Percy had it coming, and George was probably the only one in the room that was really able to get away with such a punch.

"Ron?" he heard his sister's tired voice ask as the second hand on the clock perched on the night stand clicked over to eleven o'clock.

"Yeah Gin."

She yawned, not even bothering to cover her mouth as she shifted slightly against her brother. "You should bring Hermione flowers to the airport. She'd really like that."

"Mmkay," Ron replied, making a mental note to wake up early enough to pick some up for her before they left for the airport. "Do you think George and Harry are still talking?"

Ginny nodded. "Harry said he'd find me when he was done."

"Are you sleeping here until he finds you then?"

She nodded again. "But I never sleep anymore."

"I know the feeling," Ron confessed. "Hermione's parents took her to a muggle healer to get some help so that she could sleep. She told me in one of her letters."

"She told me in her letters that she told her parents everything, and that they instantly forgave her," Ginny said, then yawned again.

"She told me that too," Ron replied. "I know she was nervous about it, but I told her it would be fine."

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

Ginny propped herself up a bit so she could her brother in the eyes. "Could you have done what she did? Could you have oblivated Mum and Dad? If they were in that sort of danger, would you have done what they did?"

Ron sighed, raking a hand through his ginger locks that his Mum trimmed up for him the other day. "Mum and Dad were in the same sort of danger. All of us were. We just knew what we were in for. Hermione's parents are muggles…it's a completely different situation."

"But could you have done it?" Ginny implored. "I couldn't have."

"Me neither," Ron said as he exhaled. "But she didn't have any other choice."

Ginny lay back down and sighed. "You're probably right."

"Go to sleep, Ginny," Ron murmured, his head rolling to it's side against his pillow as he wrapped a protective arm around his little sister.

It was well after two in the morning when Ron felt Ginny shift against him. Cracking an eye open, he squinted an eye open and found Harry gently picking his sister up out of his bed. "Sorry, mate," he whispered as Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck. "George and I didn't realize the time."

"It's fine," Ron mumbled, rolling over to the warm spot on the bed where Ginny was. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" his best friend whispered.

He opened both eyes and stared up at Harry. "Take care of her."

Grinning, Harry cradled Ginny close and kissed her forehead. "Every day, Ron. Every day."


Traveling long distances by plane always made Hermione tired, and she never understood why. It wasn't like she was doing anything but sitting. Her mother always said though that it was easier to be exhausted by nothing than it was to be by something. The layover in Abu Dhabi allowed Hermione to pick up a few trinkets for her friends back home in some of the shops, but that only killed about twenty minutes of their three hour layover.

Leaning against her father as they sat at the boarding gate, she looked over at her mother, who was clearly watching her. "Is there something on my face?" she joked.

Jean laughed at her daughter's cheeky question as she swept her thin brown hair back, fastening it up and off of her neck with a barrette. "You haven't said much about that letter."

"Because I fell asleep. Best sleep I had in ages, to be honest."

"I can never sleep on airplanes," Richard chimed in. "I did however watch a handful of movies that I had wanted to see for quite some time that I knew your mother would never watch with me - so that was nice."

"Not everyone has the same penchant you do for adolescent humor," Jean replied with a playful scoff. "I assume with it only being four-thirty in the morning, not much is open in terms of food outside of breakfast."

Hermione scrunched her nose up and nodded. She, like her mother, wasn't a big breakfast food eater, outside of some toast and jam. "A coffee shop is open though - and they had some muffins that looked decent," she offered as an alternative.

Jean shook her head. "I'm sure I have a snack in my purse somewhere. We'll be boarding soon anyway."

"What was your mother talking about a moment ago?" Richard asked. "What letter?"

"From Ron," Jean chimed in before Hermione could reply. She gave her mother a look. While she may share everything - not just most things, but everything - with her mother, she was a bit more selective with what she shared with her father regarding boys. Or really, just one boy. "You remember Ron, darling," Jean continued. "Gangly ginger boy, stares at your daughter like he knows he's supposed to do something with her, but is never quite sure what that something is?"

Laughing, Richard nodded as Hermione looked up at him. "Poor lad," he said with a chuckle. "I certainly know the feeling…it certainly took me forever to figure out what to do with your mother."

"He's not kidding, either," Jean quipped, giving her husband a loving, yet ridiculous look.

"He's been writing you all summer though, hasn't he? I was actually surprised, once you gave us our memories back, that he didn't come along with you," Richard said, purposely ignoring his wife's look.

"I told you," Hermione said, looking down at her lap as she played with her hands. "He stayed behind - his family was already upset about Fred. Ron didn't need to leave them. He needed to be with his family." She didn't tell them that he wanted to come, and how they nearly left each other day in a fit of fury because he didn't want her to go alone and she knew his mother needed him to stay. "He's meeting us at the airport though. Him and Harry, and probably Ginny, and his parents."

Her father arched a curious brow, staring at his daughter until she felt the stare enough to look up at him. "Meeting us at the airport, eh? Sounds like something a boy would do for a girl they fancy a bit, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," Hermione replied.

"Was this particular letter different than your other letters?" Richard asked.

"Maybe," she repeated, her cheeks slightly blushing.

"Well, it's about time," Richard replied with a sigh of relief. "I thought the poor boy would never figure it out. Is he going to go back to school with you too?"

She shook her head no, telling them both about the joke shop, and helping his brother until his auror training began at the beginning of the following year. Both parents noticed her demeanor depress slightly as she talked about being separated from both Ron and Harry for the last year of school. "We don't know about our arrangements for school though - for those that are coming back. I'm sure we'll hear something soon though. Ginny is going back too - we'll actually be in the same year, so that will be nice."

Richard moved his arm so that it wrapped around his daughter, her head moving from his shoulder to the side of his chest. "I'm glad you'll have a good friend there then. I wasn't too keen on you going back and being alone."

Hermione nodded as she stifled a yawn. "Harry and Ron already promised to visit whenever they can."

"I'm sure they have," Richard replied, giving his daughter a slight squeeze.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Mum?"

Jean looked at her daughter while blindly pulling a granola bar from her purse. "When we get to the airport…and you see Ron…do you know what you're going to do?"

She shook her head no with a nervous sort of uncertainty.

"What did this letter say?" Richard inquired.

"That he loves our daughter," Jean replied, not fazed a bit as Hermione clapped a hand over her embarrassed face.

Richard looked down at Hermione, gently pulling her hand from her face, waiting until she reluctantly looked back up at him. "Do you love him back?"

All she could do was nod, knowing if she used her voice, there was a good chance it would squeak and crack.

"Then tell him," Richard replied. "Life's too short to spend your time trying to hide from your feelings."

Hermione felt her father's thumb wipe away a tear before it had a chance to fall. "I know it is," she whispered. "But I'm scared."

"Good," Richard sweetly replied. "You should be scared. Because if you aren't afraid of losing him, then you were never meant to have him."


There was a fresh set of clothes sitting on Ron's dresser when he woke up and returned from the loo that morning. At first, when he picked up the dark maroon t-shirt with thin, cream colored, horizontal stripes, he thought it was just clean, but it felt thick and crisp. The jeans resting underneath were bold and stiff, unlike the jeans he'd always had, which had always been worn by the many brothers before him. He realized they were new clothes when he put them on, remembering the same feeling when he received new pants for school at the beginning of his sixth year, as he was finally taller than the twins and their pants couldn't be magicked any longer than they already were.

When he came downstairs and walked into the kitchen, his mother instantly clapped her hands together as she look a good look at her youngest boy, who was really no longer a boy. "They fit!" She happily exclaimed. "Look, Arthur! Look at how handsome Ronnie looks!"

"Did you buy me new clothes?" Ron asked.

"Of course I did!" Molly exclaimed. "Hermione's coming home today, and I know you've been looking forward to it so I wanted to make sure you had something nice to wear, especially considering she's coming back with her parents."

Arthur looked up from over the morning edition of The Daily Prophet from his seat at the kitchen table and smiled. "Your mum fretted over that outfit for at least twenty minutes in the store, son."

Before Ron knew it, he was hugging his mother tightly, his long, strong arms wrapping around her short frame. Molly hugged him back of course, kissing his cheek as he buried his face into her shoulder. His mother always smelled vanilla, probably from all the baking she did, and it was a scent Ron always found great comfort in, wherever he was. "Thanks, Mum," he finally spoke, returning the kiss on the cheek as he let her go. "You're the best. Really."

Molly waived off his compliment and ushered him over to the table, where she had breakfast already set out on the table. "No thanks necessary. I knew when you willingly got a hair cut last week that you were wanting to look your best. Is she still arriving today?"

"Three in the afternoon," Ron said with a mouthful of biscuit, all the while reaching for some bacon and eggs. He looked around at the table and realized he and his parents were the only ones there. "Where's everyone else?"

Arthur took a sip of his coffee, his eyes still on the paper. "George woke up and decided to pay Verity a visit. I'm not sure what Harry said to him last night, but he certainly looked better than he has in recent days. Harry and Ginny are still asleep."

Nodding, Ron added some bangers and breakfast mash to his plate. "I'm surprised you haven't gone mental about the two of them sleeping in the same room."

"They were going to do it anyway," Arthur said, eyeing his wife who still disagreed with his sentiment, judging by the frown on her face. "Besides - Charlie made Ginny's bedroom door disappear. There's not a whole lot that's going to happen without a bedroom door."

Ron laughed as he shoved some eggs into his mouth. It was the night before Hermione was to fly to Australia when Charlie walked into his old room - which was now Ginny's room - and found the two innocently sleeping, albeit wrapped around one another. Furious, he stormed downstairs, demanding why his baby sister was being allowed to 'sleep' with a man in her bedroom, but Arthur quickly put the kibosh on it. He knew there was no stopping them now that Harry wasn't having to keep her at an arm's length so that he could focus on fighting a war. Charlie, however, did not find his father's response appropriate, so he marched back upstairs and vanished the door to ensure nothing would happen. Ginny was appalled at her oldest brother's reaction to her doing nothing but sleeping with Harry, but when she implored her parents to make him put the door back, Molly replied that the door would not be returning in the foreseeable future.

Arthur folded up the Prophet and placed it on an empty space at the table. He reached over for the coffee pot and carefully refilled his glass as Molly joined the two of them at the table. "Can we speak to you about something, Ron?" he asked his youngest son.

Ron nodded, swallowing the chewed up sausage in his mouth. "What's up?"

"Your mum and I were wondering what the plans were…once Hermione returns," Arthur stated, trying to sound as unassuming as possible. Rumor was that he finally confessed his feelings to Hermione, and by rumor he meant his daughter confessed such knowledge to him last night about what Harry told her about the letter Ron sent, and the news pleased him and Molly greatly. They both had known that Hermione was the girl for him for a long time, but never pushed the subject. Ron was never one to be shoved into a decision. He was the child that always had to figure out whatever 'it' was for himself. The big 'it' of course, in Ron's life - in the opinion of Arthur and Molly Weasley - since about third year, was a used-to-be bushy haired girl who seemingly blossomed into an unassumingly beautiful girl as she grew up before their eyes.

You and me both, he thought to himself as he finished off a piece of bacon. "Um, well, I uh…I reckon I'm not sure. She might just go back to her house with her parents…but she might come here…seeing how she's been with them for three months."

"Ronnie," Molly said, looking at her son with a warm smile. "Your father and I know that you and Hermione - Harry too of course - but that you and Hermione have been through a lot, and we know you care for her quite a bit."

"Are you trying to ask me if you need to take away my door too?" Ron tried to joke.

"You're both adults," Molly matter-of-factly replied. "What you choose to do, or not do, is entirely up to you, as long as you're both use your heads about it."

The tips of Ron's ears burned red. "Mum…we aren't…I mean…Hermione and I, you know, we aren't even -"

"But you will be," Molly interrupted with a knowing smile. "A mother can sense these sorts of things, you know."

He didn't bother answering. He was too engrossed in trying to keep his entire face from turning beet red.

"Son, we aren't trying to embarrass you," Arthur stated, as he took his wife's hand with his. "We just, well, we see a lot of us in you and Hermione, and we wanted you to know that if you're serious about her, we'll support you whole-heartedly." Digging a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small box and slid it across the table to his son.

He and Molly both watched as Ron stared at it for a moment, before picking up the box and opening it. "Mum…" Ron said, his voice trailing as he recognized the ruby ring flanked with diamond baguettes on each side. It was the only piece of jewelry he ever remembered his mother wearing. "Mum, this is your ring."

Molly smiled as she shook her head. Holding out her left hand, she showed Ron that she was indeed wearing the exact same ring. "It's a duplicate," she stated. "The ring in the box is the original Weasley ring. It's been in your father's family for generations. It's a special ring you see. The magic in the ring - it's set to duplicate when it senses a strong bond between a Weasley man and his partner, and when it does, the current wearer must then give it up to its newest, rightful owner and wear the replica."

"But…but Bill…but he married Fleur…" Ron stammered, confused as he closed the small jewelry box. "Why isn't Fleur wearing it?"

Molly shook her head. "Fleur is a lovely girl, and while it took a bit, she's grown on me. She's a part of this family in every way, but the ring only duplicates once for each generation, and last night, when it duplicated on my nightstand, your father and I knew that it was because of Hermione."

Ron furrowed his brow, still a bit confused. "So you're saying that it picks who it wants to wear it?"

"Yes," Arthur replied. "You don't have to give it to her right away, of course. The ring is yours for safe keeping until you're ready."

Exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Ron opened the ring box back opened, unable to stop staring at the exquisite piece of jewelry. "Right," he managed to speak a few moments later. "But…but what happens…" his cheeks flushed at the horrible thought, but he felt like it had to be said. "What happens if Hermione…if she doesn't, you know, if she doesn't want to…"

Molly reached across the table and grabbed her son's hand, giving it a fierce squeeze. "She will, Ronnie."

"She will," Arthur repeated his wife's words in a kind, reassuring tone.

"But how do you know?" Ron implored.

Arthur gave his son a wry smile and nodded towards the box in his hand. "The ring doesn't just duplicate, son. Not without a reason."


"Oh God," Hermione murmured to herself for the umpteenth as the their plane finally finished taxing to their arrival gate at Heathrow. "Oh God…oh God…oh God…"

Jean reached over the back of Hermione's seat pod and gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "You worry too much, darling."

"It's been three months!" Hermione hissed, whipping her head around to look her mother in the eye. "Three months since I've seen him!"

Cupping a hand to her daughter's cheek, Jean grazed her thumb against her cheekbone softly. "Which means you should be excited. Not chanting to yourself as if you're about to meet your maker."

Hermione sighed heavily, her hands gripping the back edge of her seat pod for dear life while her father stood up, pulling his and his wife's carry on luggage from the overhead compartments. "He practically poured his soul out to you in a letter, Button," Richard said, placing one small suitcase down in the aisle, then the other. "If anyone should be terrified, it should be Ron. After all, it's not like you were able to send back a reply so he wasn't spending all this time fretting over whether or not you return the feelings."

She looked over at her dad. "Why are you being so rational about all of this?" Hermione asked with an accusatory tone. "Since when are you ok with me even liking boys, let alone dating one? And since when are you on Ron's side?"

Richard laughed as he held a hand out to Jean, unnecessarily helping her up from her seat on the plane. "Because, Button," he began to explain. "You are, much to my dismay, a grown adult, and I knew this day would come. Best I get used to the idea of it all instead of fighting against it."

"He was also Ron once," Jean added, just as she placed a sweet kiss to her husband's scruffy cheek. "Weren't you?"

"I was," Richard admitted to his daughter. "I was intimidated by your mother for many years, but finally, one day, I plucked up the courage and told her how I felt…and the rest was history."

"And believe me - he waited a hell of a lot longer than Ron did," Jean interjected with a teasing tone. "Now, are you going to get up so you can make yourself look like you haven't been traveling for more than 24 hours, or should we just go on ahead, find the Weasleys, and tell them we left you in Abu Dhabi?"

Steeling her nerves, Hermione stood up from her seat and stepped forward in front of her father, her beaded bag hanging across her body. "I love him," she said aloud in a clear, definitive voice.

"You love him," Jean repeated with a warm smile on her face.

"I've always loved him."

"We know," Richard encouragingly replied.

Hermione gave a single nod, her hands wrapped around the strap of her beaded back, up near her chest. "Right. Let's go then."


Arthur, Molly, Harry, Ginny, and Ron stood outside of the waiting area near the customs exit, waiting for the Grangers to walk down the descending only escalator at any moment. While everyone else managed to stand some what in place, Ron chose to pace back and forth, as he clutched to a bouquet of wildflowers he picked at the Burrow before they left. Ginny tied a bright pink ribbon around the stems before they left for the airport. They'll fall apart if you don't fasten them with something, she told him as they stood in the kitchen. He probably should have thought of that, but he never was any good with the romantic stuff.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor, mate," Harry teased. "You'll be six feet under before she arrives if you keep it up."

Ron stopped pacing momentarily and shrugged his shoulders. His palms were sweaty as his nerves began to get the best of him. "She could do better. Hermione. She could do loads better than plain old me."

Harry laced his fingers with Ginny's as he gave his best friend a look. "There might be some truth in that," he teased. "But you're the one she wants."

"Definitely," Ginny stated, beaming brightly at her brother. "I'm sure she's just as nervous as you are, too."

"Bollocks," Ron muttered. "Hermione's never nervous."

"She's always nervous when it comes to you," Harry corrected him. "She just does a good job of hiding it around you."

Scratching the back of his neck, Ron went back to his pacing, glancing over at a gigantic telly a few feet away that displayed all of the arrival information. The board said the plane arrived ten minutes ago, but his father said muggles who come in from other countries have to go through customs, which didn't make sense to either one of them, but it was a muggle rule that travelers couldn't get around.

Arthur left his wife standing next to Ginny and approached his son, wrapping a strong, fatherly arm around his shoulders as they stared at those travelers that began to descend down the escalator from customs. "It's ok to be nervous, son," he said. "She means a lot to you - it's natural to feel what you're feeling."

Ron scoffed. "I feel like there's still a good chance that I can botch everything up."

"We both know you won't," Arthur replied. "She means too much to you."

"She's always meant a lot to me, Dad, and it's not stopped me from being a buggering idiot before," Ron argued. "Who's to say she won't get tired of me always making a mess of things?"

"It's easy to make mess of things when both parties are desperately trying to hide their true feelings."

"Maybe."

Arthur laughed. "Give yourself a little bit of credit, son."

"It's kind of hard…considering my current record."

"Well maybe it's time for a fresh start - for both of you," Arthur encouraged his son. "Wipe the slate clean so you're both on even ground."

Ron nodded, accepting another one-armed hug from his father.

"There's Mr. and Mrs. Granger!" Harry shouted, waving at the pair as they stood on the escalator.

The Grangers waved back, and the group walked over closer, meeting them halfway as hugs were immediately given. Jean's eyes welled with tears as she gave her sincere condolences to both Arthur and Molly about Fred, and Richard gave Harry a fatherly hug, thanking him for taking care of his daughter, though Harry assured him that it was really the other way around for 99% of the time.

While Jean gushed over Ginny, admiring her long, auburn hair and how grown up she looked compared to the last time she'd seen her - at least two summers ago - Richard walked over to Ron and gave him a good clap on the shoulder as he stared at the escalator. "She'll be down in a minute," he reassured Ron. "She popped into the loo one more time, something about looking in a mirror one more time. You know how womenfolk get."

Her nervously laughed, muttering "right" as if he had a clue as to what Hermione's dad was talking about.

"You look like you're going to throw up," Richard teased.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Ron confessed with another nervous laugh.

"That's probably not the best way to go about impressing my only daughter."

"You're probably right."

Richard laughed, giving Ron's shoulder a squeeze as the nervous boy took a sudden interest in the tiles pattern adorning the floor. "Relax, Ron. My daughter is head over heels for you, and if you're willing to deal with that stubborn head of hers, then you must be someone special. And from a former nervous man, who to be honest is still quite intimidated by my wife on any given day, I'd take a deep breath, look up, and remind yourself that everything's going to be fine."


She didn't mean to duck into the public loo near the escalator one more time, but Hermione felt like her nerves really were going to get the best of her for a few moments there. "I'm fine, really," she said to her parents before ducking into the loo. "Just go ahead without me. I'll be down in a minute."

Once inside the public loo, Hermione gave polite and curt nods to those female travelers passing her as she made her way to the full-length mirror on the far wall. When they disembarked from the plane, Hermione found a public loo near the gate and changed out of her traveling clothes and into a fresh summer dress. It was a simple dress, the top half a fresh summer green with a scoop neck and capped sleeves while the dress part was white, falling just to the tops of her knees. She quickly scrubbed her face and applied a hint of makeup while her mother helped her by putting her hair into a cute side braid, since there wasn't much else to do with it after 24-plus hours on an airplane.

Standing in front of a mirror once more, Hermione spit out the spearmint gum she'd been chewing for the past twenty minutes into the rubbish bin and eyed her appearance once more. This moment had been a long time coming - going all the way back to the moment she pointed out the dirt smudge on his nose when they were just eleven, and she wanted this moment to be perfect.

With a quick reapplication of a faint, sheer gloss to her lips, Hermione inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly, and made her way out of the bathroom and onto the escalator. She spotted her parents quickly, her mother admiring Ginny while her father was saying something to Ron while he stared at the floor. Her heart sped up a touch at the sight of her favorite ginger, though she managed to keep a straight face, smiling as she gave Molly and Arthur a wave.

But when Ron suddenly looked up at her, she felt the air escape her lungs momentarily. The look on his face was priceless, almost scared in a way, as if he wasn't really seeing her. At least, that's what she assumed, as she was feeling the exact same way. Was it possible for him to be taller than he was when she left? Because he looked taller. Maybe even a little bit older, too. When he finally managed to crack a smile, she felt her face stretch out with a grin from ear to ear, giving him a small wave as she stepped off the escalator.

She walked until there were about six good steps between the two of them, her hands moving to clutch the strap of her beaded bag as the two locked eyes.

"Did you mean it?" she asked quietly.

Ron didn't need any explanation as to what Hermione was referring to. "Every word, Hermione."

"You promise?"

"I swear."

She bit her lower lip, her feet still stationery as she stared at him. "We still have to talk - about a lot of things."

Ron quickly nodded. "I know we do. And we can. We will."

"You'll really talk?" she inquired, a tad bit haughtily. "You won't just make me talk?"

Tentatively, Ron took a step closer to Hermione, and now there were only five steps between them. "I'll talk about whatever you want, for however long you want. I will talk until you tell me to stop."

That was all Hermione needed to hear. Letting go of her strap, she closed the gap between them and effortlessly threw her arms around his neck. Her legs locking around his waist, she heard the flowers Ron was holding drop to the ground as his arms wrapped tightly around her, their foreheads pressing against each other, the tips of their noses touching.

"I love you," Ron whispered. "I always have and I'm bloody sorry it took me this long to figure it out."

She tried to blink away her tears, but it was pointless. "Don't swear," she scolded. "And I love you too."

"Promise?"

Hermione nodded quickly. "I don't know how to do anything else when it comes to you, Ronald Weasley - even when you're positively infuriating."

"I reckon I'm pretty lucky like that," Ron replied with a wry grin.

"I reckon you are," Hermione replied, nuzzling her nose slightly against his.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he quietly warned her, tightening his arms around her waist even more as she adjusted her arms around his neck.

She sighed. "You don't have to tell me when you're going to kiss me, Ron. You just do -" There was no way for her to finished her sentence, because for the second time in her life, she found herself with her lips against Ron's in the sweetest of manners. When he pulled away, she quickly, but slowly, gave him another kiss on the lips as the two of them grinned like fools at each other. "See?" she finally said as Ron carefully put her back down on the ground. "It's much more fun if you just do it."

Ron chuckled as he felt her fingers lightly scratch at the nape of his neck. "I'll remember that for next time."

"You should."

"Oi! He's not the only one that missed you for the last three months for Merlin's sake!"

The two of them turned and looked at Harry, who was feigning an impressive look of contempt in the direction of his other best friend as Ginny hooked an arm with her boyfriend. Hugging herself into Ron's side, she gave Harry a brilliant smile and a wave. "I missed you too, Harry. And Ginny…" she looked over at Ron's parents, who were standing with her parents, the four of them with delighted looks on their faces. "And everyone!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "It's so great to be back."

Harry laughed, shaking his head at the two of them. "We're glad to have you back - and I'll demand a hug from you later."

She nodded, leaning her head into Ron's chest.

"You know Ron, you're supposed to give her those flowers - not hold onto them until they die," his sister teased.

In the excitement of seeing Hermione, he'd forgotten that he'd had them in his hand all this time. "Right," he said, hoisting the flowers upright as he handed, or really, thrusted them into Hermione's hands. "I picked these for you…you know…this morning."

"Thank you," Hermione replied with a faint blush. "They're beautiful."

Ron couldn't help that his chest puffed out ever so slightly at her praise, even with the look on Ginny's face that told him her idea was a brilliant one.

"Well, now that we're all here," Arthur announced to everyone. "And everyone is safe and well, we should probably let the Grangers get on home. I'm sure Jean and Richard are anxious to return, and tired from their travels."

Jean didn't miss the look on Hermione's face at Arthur's suggestion that they all begin to part ways. "Actually, Arthur, my husband and I were going to run a few errands, mostly to the market, check up on the practice, and a few other things before returning home. I'm certain Hermione would rather stay with all of you, if it isn't a bother."

"Hermione is never a bother!" Molly cried as she clapped her hands. "We'd love for her to come - and maybe even stay a few days."

"Wonderful!" Richard exclaimed. "Jean and I will get things settled, and Ron, we'd love for you to come back with Hermione and spend some time with us for a few days."

"Very much so," Jean agreed as she and her husband wrapped their arms around each other's waists. "Does that sound like an agreeable plan to everyone?"

Ron and Hermione both blurted a loud "YES," and were immediately embarrassed as their families laughed at their tandem response.

"Well, let's be going then," Arthur announced as he ushered the two families out of the muggle airport.


Everything was just as Hermione remembered it at the Burrow, and when she stepped inside, it was hard not to feel like she was home. It didn't take long for Ron to sneak Hermione upstairs to his room, which his sister of course spotted, and then went mental when neither parent proceeded to stop it. By the time they were upstairs, they could hear Ginny and her shouts of how 'unfair' it was that her brother got to have his privacy while she had a door magicked away, but neither of them really cared.

Ron noticed how exhausted Hermione looked before they disapparated from the airport to the Burrow after saying goodbye to her parents. He remembered Harry mentioning that she'd probably be jet-lagged, and was pretty sure that's why she was tired. With a flick and a swish of his wrist, he expanded his long twin bed into a slightly wider bed, and placed his wand on his dresser.

"Mum and Dad…they said we could stay in here…together…if you want of course," Ron slightly stammered as Hermione arched an eyebrow at the expanded bed.

"Well no wonder Ginny's downstairs pitching a fit," Hermione replied with a sly smirk.

"Yeah," Ron replied, as he scratched the back of his head. "She's been pretty put out about it since Charlie removed it right after you left."

Slipping out of her sandals, Hermione walked over to Ron's bed and sat down on the edge, running a hand across the top of his Chudley Cannons blanket.

"Did you er, I mean, did you want to talk…now?" he asked her, watching as her fingers lightly grazed the fringe on his blanket.

She shook her head and stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "We have plenty of time to talk."

"Ok," Ron hesitantly replied.

Hermione yawned again. "I wouldn't mind a nap."

"Well I can certainly let you be and make sure that no one -"

"I don't want you to go!" she quickly cried before he could finish his sentence.

His eyes perked up as he stared at her. "Alright. I…I can stay."

"With me?" she asked, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. "I felt empty for three months and now I'm here…with you…and it's like I can feel again. Breathe again. I'm sure it all sounds silly…"

Ron didn't think it sounded silly at all. He felt the exact same way, exhaling a sigh of relief he didn't realize he was holding knowing that she shared the same thought. He kicked off his shoes and crawled into his bed, moving to the side closest to the wall. Propping himself up with a few pillows, he motioned for Hermione to come close to her, which she did without hesitation.

As Hermione rested her head gently against Ron's chest, she sighed as he wrapped an arm around her. "I missed you terribly, you know," she confessed.

"I missed you too, Hermione," Ron replied softly. "And I really did mean everything I said in that letter."

Nodding against his chest, she yawned and snuggled up to him as close as she could, inhaling his familiar scent that always found a way to calm whatever nerves she may have had at that moment. "You really want a future with me?" she quietly asked.

"More than anything," Ron sincerely replied. "That is, of course, if that's what you want too."

Closing her eyes, she yawned for a final time and sighed with perfect contentment. "It's what I've always wanted," she confessed, before dozing off – for the first time, in a long time – a deep and uneventful sleep. It didn't take long for Ron, as comfortable as he'd ever been in his life, to quickly follow suit.