"Should I ask why you have a knife in your purse?"
"It's a dagger actually. And no, you shouldn't." Hermione huffed and tucked the blade into her beaded purse slung across her shoulder. "You should mind your own business."
"I'm just worried you'll hurt yourself," Ron walked beside her, watching closely. "Or me. It was only a cat, 'Mione."
"I'm just being careful. If we are disarmed, I don't want to be rendered useless."
"Who is going to attack us? We're shopping, not hunting bits of evil wizard." Ron waved his arms about them to further illustrate his point. The rubbish bin that had clattered to the floor after a startled tabby cat had scrambled away was still rolling to a stop after Hermione had thrown out protective charms as they passed through a dark alleyway.
The snow was falling softly as they walked along Diagon Alley. The crowds were relatively thin for a Saturday afternoon. It probably didn't help that half the shops were still boarded up; many of the owners dead or chased out by Death Eaters. It still hadn't regained the cheerful and energetic atmosphere since the war had ended six months ago.
Ollivander's was closed. He would not be returning to London. His imprisonment was too much for him. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour was back in business but was almost empty; it was unseasonably cold for November.
She blew hot air over her fingertips, exposed by the cut-off ends of her old gloves. They had been walking around for two hours looking for Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction to help with Ron's residual scarring left by the injuries he sustained at the Ministry of Magic.
Ron gently grabbed her elbow and led her into the Leaky Cauldron. "Come on 'Mione, let's go have a Butterbeer. I'm freezing."
She grudgingly agreed. Her fingertips were glowing red with the cold. Slug & Jiggers, the most popular apothecary in Diagon Alley, was dismally low on potions and potion supplies. It seems as though most of the wizarding world had stocked up on healing potions of all kinds, unwilling to leave anything to chance. After all, not all the Death Eaters had been apprehended.
They found a table near the back of the pub and slid onto the bench facing the door. It was hard to leave their backs exposed with no clear view of the exit or of the other customers. With a sigh, Hermione slid closer to Ron and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Look, it's not a big deal. The scars barely itch now. I can live with them." Ron put his arm around her and squeezed.
"In the summer, maybe. But I saw them yesterday, they were swollen and red. This weather is making them worse. Don't you dare tell me it's ok!" She pinched his side, interrupting whatever he was about to tell her.
"Fine, Hermione. Whatever you say." With a kiss on her temple he stood up. "I'll get the drinks."
It was true, they all had scars from the war and before. They had spent seven years fighting Voldemort and had miraculously come out the other side, mostly, physically, unscathed. But she hated the idea of Ron having scars.
Harry had scars, too many to count. But he was easily the most damaged person she had ever known. He had literally died, and come back. He had chosen to come back to this flawed world despite the pain he knew would come. As for herself, her Mudblood scar served as a reminder that she belonged in the wizarding world. It was her right, and she had fought for that right and prevailed. No one would take that away from her. But Ron, he was simply too good, too pure to carry around tangible memories of the darkness. He did not need any more reminders of the huge, Fred-shaped hole in his family.
Ron came back to the table and two large glasses of Butterbeer on the table. He sat down and sighed deeply. He ran his fingers around the top of the glass, and down the sides thoughtfully. "Hermione, I-"
"I think we should try Knockturn Alley next."
"What?" Ron blinked. "Why would we go there? Can we please avoid the dodgy places? Merlin forbid we get attacked by another cat!"
"There's an apothecary that might have some of the ingredients. I'm going to try and brew the potion for you myself."
"But it's a secret recipe. How will you know how to brew it?"
Hermione raised an proud eyebrow. "I'll figure it out." She took a sip of the warming drink. "We'll try Mulpepper's Apothecary first and then we can go home."
Ron shifted on the cushioned bench. "Would you like to stay over tonight? The ministry still hasn't connected your house to the Floo. I don't like not being able to contact you quickly." His face flushed ever so slightly. "I mean, you'll stay in Ginny's room of course, but-"
"That's really sweet Ron. I'd actually really like to stay at my house tonight." Hermione lowered her chin and turned her head into his chest. "It's my parent's wedding anniversary tonight. If I can't actually be with them, I'd at least like to be close in spirit. I'm sorry."
He rubbed her arm gently. "Of course, 'Mione. Whatever you need."
"Love you," she whispered.
"Love you too." Ron kissed the top of her head and gave her a squeeze. "How about we get some of this food you've been telling me so much about and take it back to yours? It sounds delicious and I can't stop thinking about it. What did you call it? Me chow?"
"Chow Mein. And that sounds good to me. You really are the best."
Hermione and Ron finished their drinks in silence. When they got up to leave, Ron took special care to wrap her up snuggly in her coat. Arm in arm, they braved the cold once more and made their way towards Knockturn Alley.
Hermione spent several minutes gathering ingredients. She grabbed phials of everything from Goosegrass to Dragon Claws, muttering to herself about the properties of each as she placed them into a heavy brass cauldron that Ron was dutifully carrying for her.
12 Galleons and 11 Sickles later, Hermione and Ron entered Muggle London. As they walked, Hermione planned how she would brew the potion and test the potion she would attempt that night. She had a few ideas she was quite excited to try. She snuck a quick glance at Ron to catch his reaction to the otherness of the Muggle world. No matter how many times she brought him, he always seemed amazed by it.
Well, almost always. Ron seemed completely distracted. It seemed so odd to Hermione how comfortable he seemed in the Muggle world, and how lucky it seemed that they could so seamlessly travel between worlds. Muggle and Wizard, perfectly at ease with both carrying a transfigured cauldron. He was mumbling something indistinct; Hermione couldn't decipher what he was arguing with himself about.
Another idea struck her just as they were passing a brightly lit shop.
"Come on! I need to get something from in here." Hermione pulled impatiently at his sleeve.
"What's the rush? Do you need shoes that urgently?"
That stopped her short. "Shoes? Why would I need shoes?"
"This place is called Boots." Ron huffed, pointing at the large blue sign with swirly white lettering.
"It's a pharmacy," Hermione explained. "A Muggle apothecary," she added when he had shown no understanding.
It was a huge shop. It seemed to Ron to be about the size of the Great Hall. Even Gringott's wasn't this large. Hermione seemed to know exactly where to go and found a small white pot. She gleefully picked up 3 of these pots into a metal basket and made her way to a queue of people.
"What have you found?" Ron whispered from where he stood behind her
"It's something for the potion," she whispered back. "I'm going to mix the two. Muggle and Magic medicine, together."
"You really are bloody brilliant, do you know that?"
Hermione blushed. "Yes, well. I just don't see why you need to suffer and if this works, you won't have to worry about sore scars any more."
Ron said nothing, simply wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.
Hermione visibly relaxed as they passed through the wards to her house. The entrance was starting to feel like home again. None of the photographs had any memory of Hermione, but she was starting to have make her presence in her childhood house known again. Shoes and cloaks were laid out neatly by the door, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the sideboard.
Hermione and Ron settled on the floor of her living room. A quick spell started the fire in the fireplace and the room soon warmed up. Ron eyed the carrier bags on the glass coffee table suspiciously.
"Is it normal for muggles to serve food in paper boxes?"
"Only chinese food. Here are some chopsticks."
Ron took the chopsticks and looked at them. "What in Godric's name am I meant to do with these now?"
"You eat with them." Hermione opened a paper box and handed it to him. "This is Chicken Chow Mein and if you don't like it, there is genuinely something wrong with you."
"When have I ever not liked food? You don't give me enough credit." Ron picked up his box and watched carefully as Hermione expertly picked at her food with the chopsticks. Not feeling confident at all, he held them loosely in his hands and tried to lift noodles to his mouth. As he lifted his hand to his mouth, more and more fell until he was left with a single slice of vegetable. He twisted his hand quickly to get it into his mouth before that too was lost. The sticks rolled over each other and he flung the bean up and into his face.
Hermione quickly slapped a hand to her mouth, at risk of spraying her food across the carpet with laughter. She snorted even further as she noticed the trail of noodles down his once-white t-shirt.
"Can I please have a fork?"
Hermione waved her hand and silently summoned a silver fork from the kitchen. Then cast a Tergeo at his t-shirt.
"I figured you would need one. It was worth watching you try though." She smugly turned her attention back to her own food until, with a slap, a forkful of noodles landed in her hair.
"Ronald Weasley! I will get your for that!"
She leaped over the boxes and flung herself at Ron, knocking him over.
"Oof! You evil woman, get off!" he said between howls of laughter as Hermione tickled him.
"You threw noodles in my hair, you git!" Hermione took advantage of his incapacitation and straddled his chest, continuing her relentless attack on his sides.
"Oh Merlin! I love you, you cruel woman," Ron roared breathlessly. "Marry me."
Hermione froze, her fingers still poised to continue her torture. "What? That's a cruel tease."
Ron took a moment to breathe and sat up, holding Hermione firmly in place on his lap. His eyes fixed steadily on hers and her heart stopped. "I said, marry me. I want this, you, us! All of this forever."
Hermione lifted her hands and placed each on his cheeks, her fingers twisting around the curls behind his ears. Her stilled heart took off and fluttered madly in her chest. Her eyes fluttered down to his lips as he licked them nervously.
"Well? Will you marry me, Hermione? Please say something I'm going crazy here."
"I-" She hesitated.
Ron ran the back of his hand softly across her cheek, catching a tear. "I love you. If you aren't sure right now, we'll wait. Take as much time as you need."
"You would wait for me?" Hermione blinked back the tears.
"Of course."
She didn't hesitate this time and launched herself at him. She kissed him frantically all over his face. "Yes!" she said between kissing each cheek. "Yes, of course I'll marry you." She threw her arms around him and held him tightly. "I love you."
"I love you too, Hermione. Always."