A/N: Thanks for reviewing & following after the last chapter, guys!
I expected to have this up a bit sooner, my apologies. I also apologize for the R/H in this chapter. It will go away soon enough, I promise, but the Ron in this story isn't a bad guy, he's just not the right guy. Had to let him have his chance.
P.S. Happy belated birthday to our favorite girl, Miss Hermione Granger!
It was Ginny who answered the door. Hermione took that to mean she and Harry had gotten back together. He'd said nothing of it in his letters, but then again, he'd taken care to keep them short. London to Australia was a long flight for an owl, and his missives had been much more focused on what was actually going on in Wizarding Britain. Hermione thought if she had to hear about one more thing that Kingsley had said or done, she might petrify the fellow to stop him being so busy all the time.
"Gin!" she cried, opening her arms to her best girlfriend. The redhead shrieked in response and squished Hermione in a tight hug. She was very good at hugs, Ginny Weasley. The girl did nothing by halves when it came to love and hate: it was backbreaking hugs or Bat-Bogey Hexes, with little in between.
"How are you, Mione? How was your visit? We missed― Oh!" She had apparently just noticed the other two people standing on the step of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Slipping out of the hug, she smiled at Hermione's parents. "Dr. and Dr. Granger, right?" she asked, stepping forward, arms open again. "So good to see you."
Moira Granger was not usually the hug sort, but she wrapped her arms around the cheerful redhead with a sort of resigned familiarity, and Hermione had to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Either she had told her parents far too many stories about the Weasleys or the stay down under had been good for defrosting a little bit of that traditional British reserve.
When Ginny had welcomed David as well (he stepped into the hug with decidedly more enthusiasm), she turned and beckoned them through the door. Hermione was just about to remind her parents to keep quiet, but then Ginny leaned up the stairs and shouted, "Boys! Hermione's here!"
There was a thunder of footsteps from upstairs, but otherwise, all was quiet. It was unnerving.
"Gin, what have you guys done with Mrs. Black?"
Ginny grinned, and nodded over towards the curtain behind which the foul-mouthed portrait hung. "She's still there. Get a little closer."
Hermione walked cautiously over towards the portrait, instinctively fearing what her body had been trained to expect: the curtains flying open, the angry old face all in a twist, and then the deafening roar of the nasty dead witch's disapproval. But nothing happened until just before Hermione reached the curtain, when she realized she could hear distant, muffled screaming. It might have been an argument out on the street, except that Hermione thought she could hear the words "filth" and "Mudblood" punctuating the otherwise incomprehensible hollering. Some sort of modified Muffliato?
"Impressive," she muttered, reaching out to touch the curtain.
"Dr. Granger!" It was Harry's voice. "Both Dr. Grangers! What a surprise!" Hermione whipped around to see her best friend shaking hands with her parents before turning to smile at her. She threw herself forward into his arms. It was good to see him. She hadn't expected to miss him as much as she had. It had only been three weeks, but still...
"Where's Ron?" she asked after a moment.
"I expect he'll be down any minute," Harry said, throwing her a wink.
She blushed. She had been trying to not think too much about what would happen when she saw Ron again. They had kissed during the Battle of Hogwarts and it had been, well, perfect. She'd been in love with Ron for so long, against her better judgment and despite all the problems along the way. He had been rude and an idiot and she hated watching him eat and he wore socks with holes and he had dated stupid, simpering Lavender Brown. All right, so Lavender wasn't really that bad, but the way they had acted together had been absolutely vile, and it had hurt so much. And then he had left her and Harry, and she had been quite sure it had been all over. She had been miserable, but she had promised herself that she would get over it, get over him, finally, after all this time.
But then he came back.
She had hated him even more for that. Just when she had finally sworn off this weird, aggravating, addicting love and had been starting to heal, he'd come back. Harry needed him there, of course, so she couldn't ask him to leave again, but she had vowed to herself that she could, had to, must go on without loving him.
Well, it turned out that you couldn't just will love to stop.
During the battle, he had been different. Strong, clever, understanding, proactive, loyal, brave, creative, sweet ― looking back, she couldn't be sure he had ever actually been all of those things during the first seven years she had known him. Except in her mind and her heart, where he had always been his best self. But on that day, at Hogwarts, he was everything. So she kissed him. And he kissed her back.
It was the best day and the worst day of her entire life. More people than she could name had died, and the days immediately following the battle were a blur of funerals, firewhiskey, and endless questions. There were no quiet moments for the Golden Trio. She had wrapped up business items one by one, and when they were done, she had given Ron and Harry each a kiss on the cheek and Apparated to Australia.
Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly and turned to her parents. "Mum, Dad, maybe you'd like some tea? Harry and Ginny will take you straight through to the kitchen, and I'll just take your bags upstairs and unshrink them." Everyone nodded assent, and Hermione slowly started up the stairs.
She stopped on the landing outside the door to the room he and Harry had always shared. She suspected they didn't share now, but figured this was as good a place as any to start.
"Ron?" she called, knocking softly on the door.
It swung open immediately to reveal Ron exactly as she remembered him, ears a fiery red and hair all mussed. He was wearing an orange Chudley Cannons shirt that she wished Ginny would tell him looked awful with his hair and a stiff, polite sort of smile.
"Mione," he said, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.
"Hi, Ronald," she whispered, a smile creeping over her face. He looked even more shy and awkward than she felt, and she abruptly decided that there was really only one solution to the problem. She stepped forward quickly until her palms were resting on his chest. Then she looked up at him, at his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, at his lips, into his beautiful, deep blue eyes. She blinked and he was kissing her, his hands on her back, his lips soft against her own. They broke apart and she leaned her forehead against his chest. She was trembling.
"I wasn't sure you wanted this," he muttered, and she could feel the words vibrate in his chest.
"I do, Ronald," she said firmly. "Very much." She looked up at him again and saw something warm sparkle in his lovely eyes.
"I just... After the battle... You didn't say anything... I didn't..."
She held a finger to his lips. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry." She kissed him again, longer this time, and when it ended, she murmured, "Does that answer your questions?"
He gave a throaty sound, half laugh, half sob, and was leaning in to kiss her again when Ginny's voice flew up the stairs, "Ron! Are you done showing Hermione the changes we've made to the place? Come down and have tea."
"You've made changes?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
Ron laughed for real this time. "Not likely. Harry did manage to shut up Mrs. Black, but other than that the place is grim as ever."
"So, are the three of you living here alone?" Hermione asked, climbing over the bench to sit at the big table in the kitchen. Ron settled himself opposite her, next to Harry, big goofy grins on both their faces as if they couldn't believe she was actually there. Her parents were sitting next to her, working their way through steaming mugs of tea and scones that actually looked quite good.
Ginny, who was bustling about the stove, scoffed. "As if Mum would let me stay with them," she said, and Hermione figured that was a fairly typical response to a teenage girl wanting to live with her boyfriend, even if they did all live in the same place for nine months out the year. "To be honest, I've been practically on house arrest since you left. Afraid Bellatrix is going to rise from the dead and come hunt me down, I suppose." Hermione felt her arm twinge at the name, but did her best to keep a straight face. Ginny went on, "She lets me out to visit George at the shop."
"He got it up and running barely a day and a half after the funeral," Ron added, "but he doesn't really have many customers and he doesn't do well by himself all day." Hermione nodded. None of that surprised her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for George to be without Fred.
"And other than that, she only lets me go to Hogwarts to help with the repairs and come here to make them dinner." The redhead laughed, walking over to the table with another two mugs. "She'd risk just about anything to make sure Harry didn't go hungry."
Hermione chuckled a little, and Harry gave her a playful scowl. She knew he was incredibly fond of Mrs. Weasley, even if he always complained about how much she made him eat when he went to the Burrow.
"So," Harry said, changing the subject completely and addressing himself to the Grangers, "are you back in England for good?"
Hermione intently studied the tea Ginny had just set in front of her. She was sure she knew the answer, but there was still a part of her that hoped.
"No," David said firmly. "We took quite a fancy to our new home. It's a very nice life we lead down there and we plan to keep it a little longer. Hermione is of course welcome whenever she would like to visit." Moira squeezed her hand as he said this and Hermione looked up from her tea, relaxing just a little.
"May I ask why you came all the way back here, then?" Ginny put in smoothly, seating herself on the bench and leaning in to Harry a bit as she sipped her tea.
"Partly to put our affairs in order," David said.
"But mostly," added Moira, "to attend the Victory Ball. Hermione invited us."
Ginny squeaked. "Oh, that's lovely," she cried. "You're going to really enjoy it. Our friend Kingsley Shacklebolt is the new Minister of Magic and he's really springing for this thing. They've got the atrium in the Ministry all redone and everyone we know is going to be there. You'll get to meet all of our Hogwarts friends and professors. And the orchestra is supposed to be excellent. Oh! Do you have anything to wear?"
Hermione and her mother exchanged looks. Neither of them had anything close to appropriate, and the expressions on their faces were of mirrored mild horror. Ginny was a ferocious shopper.
"Guess you'll have to take us shopping tomorrow, Gin," Hermione muttered resignedly.
"Excellent!" she said, smiling even more broadly than before.
One by one, everyone went to bed. Ginny stayed the night, after Flooing her mother to tell her that Hermione and her parents had arrived and that they would all be going shopping first thing in the morning. Hermione showed her parents to their room before creeping back down the stairs, pretending not to notice Ginny slipping into Harry's room.
Ron was waiting for her by the fire in the library.
She stepped quietly into the room and shut the door behind her slowly. Almost immediately, he was by her side, running a hand through her curls, wild and tangled from a day of travel. She leaned up and he kissed her again, with more heat this time, his tongue dancing against hers. She let his hands wander for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of his closeness, enjoying that, at last, he wanted her too.
Then, reluctantly, she pulled back.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," she murmured, smiling at him.
He looked confused, but shrugged it off and reeled her back in. Laughing against his lips, she consented for a few long minutes before pulling back again.
"Ron," she murmured. "This is lovely, and I think..." She paused, and he met her brown eyes, curious. "I think I want us to give being together a go."
"Me too," he agreed, smiling.
"Good," she said. "But right now it not the time." He looked hurt. She felt guilty and reached up to run a consoling hand through his hair. "I'm just tired, and Harry said he's been saving up all my post. I really ought to go through it before I see everyone tomorrow night. Let me just get through the ball and Malfoy's trial and then..." She gazed seductively up at him. "I'm all yours."
"I understand," he said, tugging gently on one of her curls. She was glad he did. This was the Ron she loved, the sweet, understanding one. And so she rewarded him, snogging him thoroughly before sending him off to bed.
Harry had left her post on one of the end tables in the library. She picked up the stack ― frightening, over a foot high ― and started reading.
All sorts of letters, though a good portion of the stack was fan mail. It was odd. She was no stranger to the stuff, but it was unusual for it to be addressed to her. Typically, it was all for Harry. She opened a few of them, but they quickly felt redundant, and she set the rest aside. She had three letters from Luna, who had apparently been stuck in St. Mungo's with little to do except detail the lives of the people on her ward and their misadventures with various mythical magical creatures. There was one from Neville as well, mostly telling her about Luna. On lovely thick paper with handsome official purple seals was the invitation to the Victory Ball. "Formal dress," she muttered to herself, annoyed. Also on thick paper with purple seals was her summons to Malfoy's trial. (So far, it looked like the only one she was going to have to attend. Most of the other Death Eaters that she could have testified against had ended up dead.) There was an employment offer from an experimental potions lab in Wales and an application to the Healer Academy that she was quite sure she hadn't requested. A letter from Fleur inviting her over for tea sometime. And then, finally, on the very bottom, as if Harry had wanted to save it for last (or perhaps not wanted her to see it at all), the letter from Hogwarts.
Miss Hermione J. Granger
The Fifth Bedroom
Number 12 Grimmauld Place
Islington
She tore it open, hands shaking almost as much as they had been when she'd received her prefect letter. They hadn't shook at all when she'd gotten her first one, she remembered. She hadn't known what the letter was, after all. She had thought the post address strange, and mightn't have opened it, except that the ink was green and the parchment lovely. It had been a nice piece of mail, and this was too.
The letter inside was less official than she had been expecting. It had the letterhead, of course: Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, etc. (It seemed that everyone was an Order of Merlin these days.) But beneath the letterhead were just a few typed lines:
Dear Miss Granger,
It is our pleasure to inform you that all Seventh Years unable to complete their N.E.W.T.s last term will be able to apply to attend Hogwarts for an Eighth Year. All candidates desiring a place should reply by owl to schedule an interview.
Sincerely yours,
Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress
But beneath that, there was another, much longer note in Professor McGonagall's careful hand.
My dear Miss Granger,
I hope that things are progressing well for you in Australia. Mr. Potter told me of what you did for your parents when I saw him recently, and while I could not be more proud, I nearly Apparated to Australia to assist you. I think I would've, except that Potter did not know where you could be found. That's daring magic, reversing a Memory Charm. But I have faith in you, and look forward to hearing of your success.
I believe that the above offer will be pleasing to you, and that I can expect to see you for an interview this summer? Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have already informed me that they will not be returning. Both have offers from the Auror Office, and both are more than capable of accepting, and excelling at, such a job without the NEWT level certification. I imagine that you, however, will want to finish things up, and I can only hope that you will not let their decisions influence yours. I have a number of plans for this year. All rather inventive, if I do say so myself, but also the children of necessity, and it would greatly reassure me to have a student such as yourself present to assist in their execution.
Potter tells me that I can expect to see you at the Victory Ball. I look forward to it. Until then,
Yours,
Minerva
Hermione finished the letter to find herself a little giddy with excitement. Professor McGonagall need not have feared. She would be sorry, of course, to be apart from Harry. And she felt bad, leaving Ron alone, after the promise she had just made him. But she was Hermione Granger, bookworm and insufferable know-it-all, and she was going back to Hogwarts.
