A/N: Sorry about the delay with this chapter! It has cost me blood, sweat and tears but it is here now. Well... okay it cost me none of the above but it was still a pain in the arse.
Fun fact of the day: This was originally the plot bunny that started Seven Simple Years. It is really weird to have finally written it well over two years later.
Disclaimer: Still pretty sure than I'm not J.K Rowling. I'll let you guys know if anything ever changes on that front.
Ron pressed the button at the side of the door Hermione had shown him the few times he had been over while she was home alone and waited. Before the distant sound of a bell had faded, the door opened to reveal Hermione.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi." Her smile wavered as she played with her sleeve. It didn't help that her next words were "It's going to be okay."
Even though her voice was strong Ron could see the doubt in her eyes. Though she had tried to hide the details from him it was clear that things had been strained between her and her parents. She probably needed the night to go well more than he did.
"'Course it will," he told her with more confidence than he felt. He leant forwards and kissed her briefly on the lips. When he pulled back Hermione gave him a proper smile.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi."
A noise from within the house alerted them to their surroundings. With a slight start Hermione stepped back to allow Ron in. He toed his shoes off quickly and saw that Hermione was wringing her hands as her blush grew.
Their relationship was still so new to both of them that even simple signs of affection felt to Ron like he was being struck by lightning. It meant that being around Hermione constantly had him on edge as the nervous energy built around them. When they were alone it was worse with him being hypersensitive of his limbs and his head feeling as though it was filled with cotton wool. All the build up meant that when they were alone it was like a damn breaking.
While that was spectacular, Ron wished he could focus on something other than how her tits looked in that t-shirt while her parents were just a few feet away. He was sure if he mentioned shagging their only daughter to the Grangers then the evening would take an unpleasant turn.
"Hermione? Was that Ron?" Mrs Granger's voice brought Ron back to Earth and he stilled Hermione's hands with one of his own.
He tried to give her a look that told her he was ready for this while all his instincts were screaming at him to bolt. Apparently it worked because a few seconds later her found himself in the sitting room, face to face with Hermione's dad, determinedly not thinking about Hermione with no clothes on.
"Hello, Mr Granger. Thanks for inviting me," Ron said, hoping it didn't sound like he had spent two hours practising what he had just said.
"No problem, Ron," the older man replied, shaking his hand. "I'm glad you could make it."
Ron smiled. He had been so preoccupied with his opening that he hadn't thought of anything else to say. Fortunately, it appeared Mr Granger hadn't either. The three of them sat down, Hermione next to Ron on the sofa and her dad in an armchair, and shared a loaded silence.
Ron glanced at Hermione who was biting her bottom lip and eyeing her dad cautiously. Mr Granger wasn't a typically imposing man, with his lean form and glasses, but there was a commanding air about him. Something about the way he held himself gave off the impression that he wasn't one to suffer fools lightly. The whole effect had Ron casting around for something to say and only finding foolish things.
Before he could embarrass himself Ron was saved by Mrs Granger hurrying into the room.
"Sorry, the potatoes were boiling over," she rushed out as Ron shot to his feet. "How are you, Ron?"
"Er - not bad," he answered. After his stony greeting with her husband, Ron was caught off guard by Mrs Granger's overt friendliness. "Yourself?"
"Oh, you know, obeying gender stereotypes and slaving over a hot stove all day," she said lightly.
"Right." Ron didn't dare elaborate on his response as he was unsure whether this was a test or a joke.
"I offered to cook," Hermione's dad sighed. It sounded like they had already had this discussion. "You insisted so you can't complain now."
"Don't repress me in front of the children, dear," she replied, before turning back to Ron and Hermione. "So how was your journey, Ron?"
Ron noticed both Hermione and her father roll their eyes before he answered. "Good. Apparated so there wasn't a whole lot that could go wrong."
"Apparated? Isn't that what you passed a test in, Hermione?" questioned Mr Granger.
"Yes, it's much like a driving license really," she replied much like she used to back at Hogwarts. "You have lessons and can't take the actual test until you're seventeen." Ron smiled fondly. Seeing her demonstrate her knowledge always made him feel proud of her. Even something as basic as this she could make sound impressive by mixing it with the crazy Muggle version so her parents could understand.
"When did you pass, Ron?"
Mrs Granger's polite question brought any warm feelings of pride he had crashing down.
"Well," he began, noticing Hermione tense next to him, "I haven't technically passed yet."
"And by that you mean?" Mr Granger asked in a tight voice.
Ron's mouth was suddenly very dry. "I-I only just failed first time and then before I could retake it... Well... We went on the run," he finished at a mumble. He may not be an expert but Ron was certain the way into Hermione's parents' hearts was not by telling them he was a law-breaking fuck up who had spent the best part of last year as a fugitive.
"He's applied for another test," Hermione said quickly. "It's taking a while because the Department of Magical Transportation is still running on a skeleton staff and they have other priorities at the minute. He's excellent at Apparating so it's just a formality really."
His heart swelling at Hermione praising him, Ron watched a muscle in Mr Granger's jaw twitch.
"I'll check on those potatoes," he announced stiffly before leaving the room.
"So, Ron," Mrs Granger began in a slightly higher pitch than normal as she perched on the seat her husband had just vacated, "any other laws you've broken recently?"
Mr Granger stayed in the kitchen while Ron tried to make himself look like someone worthy of Hermione to her mum. Hermione did her best to help by mentioning how he had been part of the Quidditch Cup winning team two years on the trot and anything remotely kind he had done in the past week, but Ron got the impression that Mrs Granger was more amused by her daughter's words than impressed.
Ron took Hermione's hand to try and calm her down. It was hard enough trying to talk in a way that made himself seem halfway normal without her making his ears glow. Thankfully Mrs Granger excused herself and went to find out where her husband was hiding.
"Stop it," Ron murmured as soon as she was out of earshot.
Hermione frowned. "Stop what?"
"Saying all that stuff about me. It's making me nervous."
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione giggled.
"Seriously, Hermione, I can't think."
"Fine," she snapped. "I'll tell them about you getting into fights with Malfoy and all your detentions then, shall I?"
"You wouldn't?" Ron said. It wasn't until Hermione rolled her eyes at him that he relaxed with a loud exhale.
"I'm just trying to help," she said, looking at her knees.
"I know."
"It's not my fault you're so impressive," she mumbled.
Ron smirked. "Impressive?"
Hermione glanced at the door leading to the kitchen. Apparently satisfied that the coast was clear, she grabbed the front of his shirt that he had spent forever ironing and kissed him. The kiss was over before Ron had really noticed that it had begun.
"Wha-?"
"Sorry, I'm just nervous," Hermione cut in. "That normally calms me down."
Ron guessed she didn't mean that as an insult but he found their kisses did anything but calm him. "It's not going too badly," he reassured her.
"We haven't started dinner yet," Hermione reminded him, worrying her bottom lip.
Before Ron could give into temptation and take over her lip worrying duties, Mr Granger was back in the room looking remarkably like a man who had recently lost an argument. "Dinner's ready," he informed them. As he turned and left Ron noticed the back of his neck was red.
"Come on," Hermione sighed as she got up. "Please try to not talk with your mouthful," she added as Ron glowered at her. So much for being impressive.
The Grangers' dining room was much like the rest if the house: tastefully decorated and impossibly tidy. That wasn't to say that it felt like an impersonal showhome however. The dark wood sideboard was adorned with Muggle photos, mostly of Hermione, but also other family members he didn't recognise. As he sat down, Ron studied a photo of a gap-toothed Hermione grinning at him next to a blonde girl a couple of years older than her. It was unnerving the way she was frozen in time and Ron soon looked away as it reminded him of when she had been petrified.
"That was taken in France," Hermione said, nodding at the photo. "That's my cousin. I was only about 7."
"That one?" Mr Granger nodded towards the frame with an inquiring frown. "You were 5. I remember because your tooth fell out on the plane and you didn't tell anyone in case they had to land to sort it out."
Ron grinned at Hermione who sat up a bit straighter in her chair.
"How was I supposed to know?" she bristled. "I was five. Besides, that was when strange things happened to me all the time. I was scared a medical emergency would set one off."
"Medical emergency?" Ron scoffed. "You'd lost your tooth!"
Ron's good humour was soon lost when he caught Mr Granger's eye. "When you don't know about magic," he said quietly, "those incidents can be frightening, especially for a child." He stared impassively at Ron, causing him to forget most of the English language. Eventually he gave up and looked down, feeling rather like a small child.
Hermione was scowling at her father when her mother walked in carrying a plate in each hand. The distraction stopped her from saying anything but Ron could see by her pursed lips that she hadn't approved of the way her dad had spoken to him. Ron didn't know what to think. He had laughed at her, but she had known he was joking. Hadn't she? By the time Ron had resolved to ask Hermione about it later there was food in front of him and everyone had taken their seats.
Mrs Granger had mentioned the name of the dish but it had a foreign name that Ron had forgotten already. Asking for her to repeat it would make him look stupid so he copied Hermione as picked up the combination of what looked like bread, cheese and salad. As per Hermione's request, he only had a small bite and was relieved to discover that he liked it. On the walk here he had decided that no matter how much he hated any food he was given he was going to eat it anyway. Trying not to fuck this all up was going to be hard enough without trying to hide a look of revulsion as well.
The four of them were silent as they all began eating and Ron wished one of the Grangers would start a conversation. That way he could jump in rather than picking a subject that would offend them somehow. It was especially weird as he was so used to people around him discussing the war, efforts to rebuild and news on friends and family. With Hermione's family he couldn't fall back on topics like the ministry reforming or the plans for Hogwarts to reopen.
It all gave him the strange impression that he and Hermione were in a bubble, separate from her parents and their house. Even after a month Ron found it strange to be around other people. For so long Hermione and Harry were all he knew and adjusting had taken a while. Unlike his own family, Hermione's parents hadn't even been involved in the war so the feeling of disconnect was stronger. There were the people who had fought, had seen the horrors, felt the losses, and those that hadn't. It was like being a different species.
Ron glanced at Hermione and took in her stiff posture and the way her eyes kept flicking towards the door. They were her parents and this was the house she grew up in. Did she feel the same?
"So, Ron, Hermione was talking about your amazing sporting finesse earlier," said Mrs Granger. Hermione shot her an embarrassed look that she ignored. "Any plans to become the wizarding Michael Owens?"
"Owen," corrected Mr Granger with a sigh.
"Yes, him?"
Ron stared blankly at Mrs Granger's inquiring face. He could see Mr Granger busying himself with his food out of the corner of his eye. "I - er -" He turned to Hermione. "Who's Michael Owens?"
"Owen," bit out Mr Granger.
"Yeah," Ron mumbled, "him."
Hermione shook her head apologetically. "I have no idea."
"He's a famous footballer," explained Mrs Granger, taking a sip of her drink.
"Right, well, I don't know that much about football," Ron said glumly before remembering something Dean had mentioned last week when he had seen him. "I know West Ham did all right this season though."
Mr Granger eyed Ron and he wished he could read him as well as he could his daughter. Despite his features resembling Hermione's so much, he was much better at keeping them neutral.
"They did," the older man eventually said. "Signed a few useful players."
Ron scraped his memory for something interesting that Dean had said but could only remember the half-hearted smile of his friend as he had said it had been something nice to hear after all those months spent hiding from snatchers. "Yeah, they did."
Mr Granger raised his eyebrows, clearly seeing through Ron's lack of footballing knowledge and went back to his food. Ron couldn't decide if he was grateful or frustrated. That had almost been a breakthrough.
"Dad supports Spurs," Hermione piped up. Apparently she had seen the opening too. Ron nudged her under the table. He didn't know what a spur was. Continuing this conversation was only going to lead to him looking inadequate in her dad's eyes. However, Hermione gave him a pleading look and Ron felt as though he was watching himself walk into a small room with a murderous lion rather than a discussion about football with a middle-aged man.
"How did they do this season, Mr Granger?" he asked, hoping upon hope that the answer was in someway positive. Unfortunately Ron spotted his fingers twitch and the strained quality to his smile. It was the sort of giveaway a Chudley Cannons fan could spot a mile away seeing as they did a similar thing when asked the same question.
"Not too badly," Mr Granger said shortly. "Awful in the FA Cup and came nowhere near qualifying for Europe but it could have been worse."
Ron nodded as though more than three words of his response had made sense.
"Were you still able to get the results in-in Australia?" Hermione asked. The mention of Australia made everyone at the table tense a little.
"We could get BBC Worldwide on the radio so we could keep up with all the football and even some important news from home," Mrs Granger said with a smirk that Hermione returned.
The slight on his sport roused Mr Granger from his guarded mood. "Football is important!" he insisted.
Mrs Granger laughed. "To you. For the rest of us twenty-two millionaires and a ball is hardly the be all end all of the world."
"Neither is fourteen brooms and four balls," added Hermione nudging Ron with her elbow. He gave her an offended look but didn't mean it really. She finally seemed to be loosening up a little.
"You should be thankful, Hermione," Mrs Granger said fervently. "At least when you went away Ron didn't meet any Quidditch fans. About a week after we moved, we went to the beach and met not one, but two English families. Lovely people, but all of them were huge football fans. So, of course, when this one," she gestured to her husband who shook his head resignedly, "got talking to them..."
Hermione laughed. "Don't suppose he would have noticed if you would have moved back to England?"
"I'm not that bad," Mr Granger tried to say but he was drowned out by his wife and daughter's chuckling. Ron smiled weakly, not wanting to give Mr Granger more reasons to hate him.
"Oh, but you haven't heard the best part," stage whispered Mrs Granger to Hermione. "Out of the whole of Australia you had to send us to city with two English families of Arsenal fans."
"No!" exclaimed Hermione, looking to her dad who was frowning at his empty plate, as though wishing he had more food to distract himself.
"What's Arsenal?" Ron asked. It felt very weird asking Hermione about sport but he really had no idea what was going on.
"Oh, Arsenal and Spurs have this big rivalry," she explained, placing a gentle hand on his forearm that was resting on the table. "It's silly really, but they take it so seriously."
Ron saw that Mr Granger had noticed him and Hermione having physical contact and realised there was only one side of this debate he could take. "Sporting rivalries are a serious thing, Hermione," he said wisely. "There's loads of stories about Quidditch fans using the weirdest of curses on other teams' fans."
He looked to Mr Granger and hoped his mention of magic hadn't angered him. Fortunately it seemed like the Hermione had had the right idea after all and sport might be the subject that they could bond over. Ron wondered briefly if he would end up liking football just to keep Hermione's dad happy and hoped it didn't come to that. From everything Dean had ever told or shown him the game looked as boring as fuck.
"Well, at least we don't have that issue," Mr Granger said. "It was still very awkward when it came out who my team were. I mean, talk about being sent to Coventry..."
Everyone else around the table chuckled. Ron, however, felt as though he was missing something. Surely Hermione would have been distressed to hear that after all her hard work of sending her parents away her father had came back to Britain because of something to do with a sport she didn't care about? "Why did you have to go to Coventry?" he asked, wondering just how serious Muggles took football rivalry.
"I didn't," Mr Granger replied shortly.
"Oh." Brow knitted in confusion, Ron picked up his glass for something to do, the atmosphere awkward once more. The fizzy drink that had been in there was long gone and only the half-melted ice remained. He took a sip anyway. When he put the glass down, Mr Granger was still looking at him as though he had asked what two plus two was.
"It's a Muggle saying," Hermione explained, after noticing his lost expression, "meaning to be ostracised."
He gave a her a grateful grin. He'd been making an effort to learn more Muggle things by listening to Hermione, Harry and his dad (although he was starting to realise his dad's word shouldn't always be trusted) but it would have been impossible for him to know everything. "I didn't know there were many ostriches in Coventry?" he added innocently.
Hermione and her father both opened their mouths to explain his mistake, but were interrupted by Mrs Granger's snort of laughter. Nervously, Ron smiled at her and she nodded appreciatively back. Even though Hermione rolled her eyes at his poor joke, Ron still felt like he had accomplished something. Before he had thought Mrs Granger might have just been polite, but he was starting to hope that maybe she actually liked him.
"Funnily enough, the saying has nothing to do with massive birds," she said with a slight chuckle. "It actually started during the-" She stopped talking, her eyes wide as though she had accidentally said something offensive. Ron looked around the table to see that Mr Granger had froze as well, whereas Hermione was looking at her mother with her mouth pressed into a thin line.
"D-during the what?" Ron asked the table at large, completely unsure as to what had caused the atmosphere to plummet like this.
Mrs Granger was the first to recover. "It doesn't matter," she said cheerily. "How about-"
"During the civil war," Hermione interrupted defiantly, looking straight at Ron. Understanding flooded through him as he looked at her parents, concern etched on both of their faces.
"It's okay," Hermione insisted, finishing the last of her starter.
She missed the look her parents shared, both of them looking unsure and defeated.
"I'm sorry," Mrs Granger said softly.
Hermione placed her cutlery carefully onto her plate, looking intently at it as she spoke. "Honestly, it's fine."
Mrs Granger gazed sadly at her daughter, looking as though she was about to say something more when her husband took her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. Looking utterly helpless, she sat back in her chair as Mr Granger rose and took the finished plates into the kitchen.
With both of the Granger women staring in opposite directions, Ron fiddled with his sleeve. It looked as though being unsure around those who didn't fight in the war worked both ways.
When Mr Granger returned to the dining room with the main course Ron was pleased to see that is was roast chicken and vegetables. Admittedly the chicken was a little drier than mum's usually was and was covered in a sauce he didn't recognise and found a little rich, but food was food.
As he took his first mouthful he looked at Hermione and she gave him a sad smile. He pressed his leg against hers and returned her smile in the hope that she would understand that the mention of war was okay, especially if it was a Muggle war he knew little about. Again he wondered what it must be like for Hermione, trying to rebuild her life as her parents walked on eggshells around her. She had mentioned in passing how they would avoid sensitive subjects around her but seeing it brought it home for Ron. With the separation and the drama that surrounded the Grangers' return to Britain the last thing Hermione needed was another reason to feel apart from her family.
Once again it was Hermione's mother who started a conversation.
"So, Ron, tell us about your family," she said brightly, cutting into her chicken. "I've always wondered what they all do."
From someone else it might have sounded like an inquisition, but Hermione's mum seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him. He suspected that she knew the basics from Hermione already but he was happy to move the evening on from the horrible memories of last year.
"Oh, well, I've got a sister and fi-four brothers," Ron stuttered. His voice caught and Hermione had stilled next to him. His standard response about his family that had been rehearsed over the years was no longer true and it caught him off guard. Mrs Granger was tactfully pretending not to notice his apprehension while her husband was concentrating on his food.
He tried to block it from his mind, but the sound of the explosion and Percy's sobs were on him before he could. The walls were contacting and Ron could no longer think of what to say. The guilt of excluding Fred still felt like an insult to his memory but the alternative sounded just as wrong. To buy himself time, Ron coughed and took a sip of his replenished drink.
Under the table he felt something cover his hand and looked to see Hermione smiling at him. The whole incident had only lasted a few seconds but it felt like hours to him and she was bringing to an end like only she could. He gave her hand a squeeze, letting her know he was okay, that he was anchored in the present again, and turned back to her parents. She didn't let go of his hand.
"My dad works at the ministry," he continued, relieved that his voice sounded normal. "Bill's at a bank-"
"The wizard bank?" Mr Granger interrupted. "I've only ever seen goblins in there."
"He works more for them then with them."
"And it's normal for humans to work with creatures?"
"Well, yeah," Ron replied with a shrug, hoping Mr Granger was interested and not setting him up for something. "My brother, Charlie does as well."
"What does he work with?" asked Mrs Granger.
Ron was too busy trying to select a bit of chicken with the least amount of sauce on it to notice Hermione flinch next to him. "Dragons."
There was silence and Ron looked up from his food to see both of Hermione's parents gawping at him.
"Dragons?" Mr Granger said weakly. "In this country?"
"No," answered Ron, glancing at Hermione to see that she was cutting up a carrot into very small pieces, a task which apparently took a great deal of concentration. "Romania."
"So there are no dragons in this country?" Mr Granger's voice was back to its usual pitch but he still hadn't moved since the word 'dragons' had entered the conversation.
"No," Ron replied. Both of Hermione's parents visibly relaxed. "I mean," he chuckled, "where would we keep them?"
"Swindon?" suggested Mrs Granger with a straight face. Everyone at the table stopped eating to stare at her. "What?" she shrugged before adding under her breath, "It'd liven the place up a bit."
"I'm just grateful there are none anywhere near us," said Mr Granger. "All Britain needs is dragons roaming around."
Mrs Granger nodded in agreement and Hermione ducked her head so that her face was obscured by her hair.
"There are some in Wales and Scotland," Ron pointed out and soon wished he hadn't. The colour drained Mr Granger's face a lot quicker than was probably healthy.
He opened and closed his mouth several times before turning to Hermione. "Is that true?"
"Yes," Hermione replied in a voice that would have been casual is her face hadn't been so flushed. "On carefully managed reserves like the one Charlie works on. It's perfectly safe."
She went back to her dinner, pretending to be unaware that her father was still staring at her, open mouthed. He composed himself enough to pick his cutlery up again, but Ron could still see how uneasy he was. "Did you say Scotland?" he asked, sounding worried.
Hermione sighed and finally met her father's eyes. "Nowhere near Hogwarts, Dad."
"So you've never been near a dragon before?"
"No."
Ron snorted. "What?"
All of the Grangers were looking at Ron, making him feel uncomfortable. He turned to Hermione and was shocked to see her looking angry. He shrugged and she rolled her eyes.
"I saw a baby one years and years ago," she informed her parents dismissivley. "And some adult ones as part of the Triwizard Tournament."
Mrs Granger appeared to accept her daughter's words but Mr Granger was now scowling, a vein in his temple sticking out.
"So when you said 'no'-" he began through gritted teeth but Hermione interrupted him.
"I forgot." Her voice was harsh and Ron glanced from one furious glare to the other.
"Forgot about drag-" Mr Granger pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to contain himself. Hermione's determined expression didn't waver. "Anymore?"
"No."
"Yes."
Ron and Hermione had spoke at the same time. He gave her a questioning look and received an incredulous one in return. With her parents sat right in front of them Ron could hardly ask why Hermione was lying to them but he wished she would give him a sign. It wasn't exactly a secret about the last dragon. She had been to hearings about it and everything. Surely her parents had been told about it or at least had seen the owls she had been sent.
"That one we rode out of Gringotts last month?" Ron said, looking questioningly at Hermione's parents.
"What?"
Judging by the looks of shock and horror sat across the table from him, Ron concluded that Hermione hadn't mentioned breaking into a bank and escaping on a fire-breathing monster to her parents.
"A-as part of what we needed to do to defeat Voldemort," Hermione explained quickly, as though speed would somehow disguise her words, "we needed something that was in a vault so we may have-"
"You robbed a bank?" injected her father, looking as though Hermione had grown tentacles and had announced plans to live on the moon.
"We took one thing," she insisted, a slight wobble in her voice. "One very necessary thing."
"It was stolen in the first place, anyway," Ron added, sensing that maybe he had been in the wrong. His attempt to help Hermione earned him a glare from her father and he sat back in his chair, deciding that he would probably make things worse if he spoke.
"So... where does the dragon come into the story?" Mrs Granger asked. While her husband appeared angry, her eyes were still wide with shock.
"Before we could get out, they realised there were intruders," Hermione answered somewhat desperately. "The dragon was guarding the vault and – they were treating it terribly -" She trailed off an bit her lip.
Ron felt incredibly guilty for bringing the whole thing up. Hermione was the girl who probably apologised profusely for things she did accidentally and sent herself to bed without any supper. Her parents couldn't possibly have been prepared to hear about her breaking the law in such a dramatic manner.
"You robbed a bank," summerised Mrs Granger, her expression one of disbelief, "and used a dragon to escape?"
Hermione nodded. Her parents didn't show any reaction other than blinking, their meal forgotten in front of them. Ron glanced at his chicken longingly. He wasn't sure he was going to get to finish it if the Grangers were just going to stare at each other all night.
"How - how did you get away with this not being in the papers?" Mr Granger asked breathlessly. Apparently tackling the main issue of his daughter being a thief was too much so he went for the lesser issues first. "When was this?"
"The day before the battle."
"The battle that happened on the second of May?" He frowned. "So you robbed a bank on the May Bank Holiday?"
Mrs Granger came out of her reverie with a slight shake of her head. "There was a dragon flying over London and no one saw this?"
"There are teams of people working at the ministry who sort these things out, Mum," Hermione said calmly. "No one was hurt," she added as a second thought.
As Hermione went back to her food Ron frowned at his own. Rather than the remains of his food, all he could see were the pictures of the dead and tortured goblins they had been shown during their hearing. The goblins had blamed them for Voldemort's wrath and wanted the three of them punished for it. Even though he knew deep down there was no way they could have known that Voldemort would massacre the creatures and that was far from their intentions, seeing the photographs of the dead weighed heavy on Ron's conscience.
She was lying to them again. Obviously they wouldn't know about every aspect of her life in the magical world but Ron had never suspected how much she had kept from them. How much didn't they know?
"Well," Mrs Granger eventually said with a slight cough, "it sounds more interesting than any spaghetti western I've ever endured."
Ron looked at her questioningly. "What's a spaghetti western?"
"You're better off without knowing," she replied sympathetically.
There was a crash of cutlery as Mr Granger threw his down onto his plate. "Our daughter stole from a bank and that is all you have to say?"
"The war would still be happening if we hadn't!" Hermione fumed. "It was completely unavoidable!"
"Yeah," Ron agreed, "we're not going to prison or anything."
Mr Granger redirected his angry gaze from Hermione to Ron. "I wasn't talking to-"
"Well, I don't know about you lot," Mrs Granger interrupted loudly, "but I am ready for dessert." Ron ducked his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione glaring at her father. Whenever the man was blindsided by something he reacted badly. Ron couldn't blame him seeing as it wasn't exactly something small, but he wished that he wasn't the prime target.
Although, he reasoned glumly, he hadn't exactly helped himself on that front when he had almost attacked him.
Mrs Granger made her way around the table, collecting the plates. When she reached Ron she stopped.
"Would you like to give me a hand, Ron?"
Startled, Ron nodded and stood up, knocking his knee painfully against the table in the process. He followed Hermione's mum into the kitchen, trying not to limp as his knee throbbed with each step. As he went through the door to the kitchen, Ron looked back at table to see both Hermione and her father shooting him curious glances as though wondering why he had been chosen over one of them. He couldn't help but think the same thing.
The moment the door closed behind, Mrs Granger sighed dramatically as she scrapped the leftovers into the bin.
"Sorry. I know it's rude to ask guests to help," she said, moving to take the plate Ron was still holding. "You don't have to do anything."
"Oh." Without anything in his hands to distract himself, Ron shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, subtly trying to pull them down a little to make them look longer. Somehow during nine months of malnourishment he had managed to grow enough for all of his smart clothes to be too short for him.
"I just thought it'd be a good idea to get you out of there," Mrs Granger called over her shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher. "Hermione is the only one who could possibly convince him you weren't breaking the law for the wrong reasons," she added, her voice shaking a little. What happened the last time Ron and Mr Granger had got into an argument went unsaid.
Realising that Mrs Granger was struggling with all of this just as much a her husband, Ron pushed aside his own nerves. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to have let her daughter wipe her memory and then go off and fight a war. She was handling it a lot better than he would have done.
"We honestly had no choice. I swear," he said, moving to help her retrieve four bowls from the top shelf of the cupboard.
Mrs Granger nodded as she took the bowls from him and placed them on the island in the middle of the room. "I believe you. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you've done that sound terrible out of context, but were wholly justifiable," she said as evenly as possible, bending to get something out of the freezer.
She straightened up and made her way back to the island with a tub of ice cream. Ron's heart lept until he saw it said sugar free on the side. Hermione had warned him that dessert wouldn't be like he was used to, but couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
"We avoided all that kind of stuff the best we could," Ron told Mrs Granger, but it sounded as hollow it was. For that year existing alone had been incredibly dangerous.
"And yet you still ended up riding a dragon," Mrs Granger sighed. "These things happen. Apparently," she added, not meeting Ron's eyes. She busied herself in a drawer for a moment before pulling out an ice cream scoop that looked a little bit like the ones he had seen in Florean Fortescue's. The only difference was that is was much smaller and it looked as if you had to scoop the ice cream out yourself.
Ron couldn't think of anything to say. She was clearly more upset than she was letting on but he was bad enough at cheering people up when he knew them. There was nothing he could say that he hadn't said before. He had apologised in Australia and she had dismissed it as unnecessary.
"I don't hate you, Ron."
He started, noticing that he had been staring into space as she had begun scooping the ice cream. It had always struck Ron as strange how little Hermione looked like her mother, with her straight hair and hazel eyes, but she was looking at him in a way that told him she could see right through any excuse he could come up with. It was a look that Hermione had perfected over the years and suddenly the relation between the two women was undeniable.
"Wha- I didn't think-"
"You look terrified," she smirked, going back to the ice cream. "I know as well as anyone that if Hermione wants to do something, she will do it. I know you didn't drag her into this." She paused for a beat, apparently debating whether or not to continue speaking. "If anything I'm glad someone was looking after her," she finished sadly.
"I was," Ron promised. "Best I could."
"Good." Mrs Granger gave him a kind smile and Ron felt the tension that he hadn't realised had been in his chest lessen. "I don't trust that Harry though," she added under her breath.
Ron caught her eye and burst out laughing. She handed him two full bowls of ice cream. "He's not too bad," he told her, still smiling.
He watched as she gathered up four spoons and the other bowls, knowing that he had somehow managed to at least not screw up his chances with both of Hermione's parents. Admittedly he hadn't pulled a wand on this one, but at this stage in the game he was willing to take any victory he could get.
"Come on," Mrs Granger sighed. "They should have changed the conversation to something much more intellectually stimulating by now." She rolled her eyes and waited for a moment with her ear angled towards the door to the dining room. Ron silently joined her and listened.
"The man will bring the country to its knees," Ron heard Mr Granger say with certainty.
Hermione scoffed. "I suppose you have already forgotten the miner's strikes?"
Ron had no idea what was being discussed. He shot a questioning look at Mrs Granger, but she had her eyes closed, apparently begging for patience.
"You're far too young to even remember the miner's strikes!"
"They still happened!"
Mrs Granger exhaled loudly. "Of course," she muttered, barely audible over the raised voices in the next room. "They've gone for the well-known safe topic of politics."
With the air of someone going into a war zone, Mrs Granger shouldered open the door and marched towards the table and Ron followed. Neither of its occupants noticed their return.
"You only like Blair because he is friends with Oasis," Mr Granger said shortly, folding his arms.
"Dad, I found out who Oasis were three weeks ago!"
"And then everyone lived happily ever after," Mrs Granger nearly shouted over her husband's retort. "Wasn't that fun?"
Both Mr Granger and Hermione gave her an offended look before staring in opposite directions with an air of dignity. Mrs Granger gave Ron an exasperated look as she handed out the bowls in hand. As Ron placed a bowl in front of Hermione she gave him an inquiring look, clearly eager to know what had happened in the kitchen. He smiled and she almost sagged with relief as she picked her spoon up. Ron would have been offended by her lack of faith in him if he hadn't been so terrified before he had left the room.
"Sorry about the unimaginative dessert, by the way," Mrs Granger said, gesturing to the bowl in front of her. "I'm terrible at desserts."
"And not from lack of trying," added Mr Granger. He nudged his wife and smirked. She shot him a look that would have passed for scandalised if it hadn't been for the wide smile that followed. They shared a look as though they were both remembering the same incident and Ron averted his gaze. He was used to his parents doing this all the time. While it was less disgusting when it wasn't them, it was only marginally less awkward with Hermione's.
He glanced at Hermione to see how she was taking her parents flirting and saw that she her brow was furrowed.
"So –er – how's dentisting?" Ron asked once Hermione's parents had finished. The talk with Mrs Granger had definitely helped his confidence around them.
"Dentistry," Hermione corrected under her breath.
"That."
"Fine, thank you," Mr Granger replied sortly.
Ron waited for more but it never came. Although, with all he knew about Hermione's parents jobs, he doubted he could've said much more. How interesting could teeth be anyway?
"That's... good," he said and Hermione gave him an encouraging smile. Even though it hadn't really gone all that well she appreciated him trying. Suddenly he didn't feel like such a failure.
"Obviously it's not as exciting now I'm not around," Mrs Granger said pointedly at her husband who rolled his eyes.
"Obviously," he sighed. His wife grinned and ate another spoonful of ice cream.
Ron looked around at the other three people at the table as though he had missed something. He turned to Hermione, who was deliberately avoiding his eye. While he was shocked that Hermione hadn't metioned anything about this he decided against asking her about it because everything about her was uneasy at the minute.
"Are you not a dentist anymore?" he asked Mrs Granger who shook her head.
"No. Teeth and I had fun together, but I have decided to move on," she replied solemnly.
Ron glanced at Hermione who was still not looking at him. Apparently it wasn't just her parents she had been keeping things from. "What do you do now?"
"Oh, just your bog-standard nine-to-five in an office," she shrugged. "Nothing as fun as a dentist's drill to play with but the people seem nice."
Ron laughed. "What did teeth do to make you move on?"
She shook her head vaguely and failed to meet his gaze. "Just fancied a change," she answered in a slightly higher pitch than before.
So that's where Hermione gets her atrocious lying skills from, Ron thought. He looked to the girl in question and saw that she was eyeing her mother suspiciously.
"Anyway, who wants to talk about work at the dinner table?" Mr Granger interrupted with a forced laugh. "Surely there are more interesting things?"
"Other than football," added Mrs Granger.
Hermione's dad gave his wife an incredulous look that she raised her eyebrows at. The easy back and forth with the smiles earlier was nothing like the rehearsed quality of the words now and Ron wondered if that was how he and Hermione appeared to his family when they told them they were fine.
"Ooh I know," continued Mrs Granger with a cheeky glance at Hermione. "Tell us the story of how you two met."
Hermione blinked, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "You know how we met. On the train?"
"Yes," Mrs Granger chuckled, "but how did you become friends? We didn't hear about the famous Ron and Harry for weeks after you started Hogwarts."
Aside from the strange feeling of pride at hearing his name before Harry's, Ron was mainly shocked. The story of how they had became friends was fairly memorable. How had her parents forgotten it?
"Well, it was the mountain troll thing, wasn't it?" he laughed, scooping more ice cream. Unaware of the silence that had fell around the table, Ron ate his ice cream before he realised that the two people opposite him didn't know about the troll thing.
Slowly, he turned to face Hermione, his stomach sinking as their eyes met.
I've done it again, haven't I?
She scowled. Yes, you have.
"Y'see, our first Halloween at Hogwarts," Ron began in what he hoped sounded like a happy voice, "a mountain troll was let into the school and me and Harry accidentally locked it in the same room as Hermione and had to-"
"I'm sorry," interrupted Mrs Granger weakly, "but what do you mean by 'mountain troll'?"
Ron opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out. Thankfully Hermione came to his rescue.
"Well," she started shakily, "a- er - mountain troll is – wait…" Her nervous mumbling ceased as her whole body froze.
Having been busying himself with his food, Ron had looked away from his girlfriend. When her tone changed and she stopped talking he looked back and saw that she was slowly turning her head towards him, her expression thunderous.
It was then Ron realised that a vow he had made with Harry nearly seven years previously had just been broken and their deep, dark secret had been unleashed on the one person they had sworn to keep it from. With stomach somewhere near his ankles and his voice a thing of the past, he could gawp, open mouthed at Hermione and hope he lived to see another day.
"What do you mean," she all but growled through gritted teeth, "locked in?"
"I am sorry."
"Seven years."
"I'm sorry."
Ron kicked a stone and watched it skit across the pavement. The past hour hadn't been so bad. With dinner finished, he'd been able to talk to Hermione's parents, once he had finished the now infamous troll story some more. They'd even been able to mention a bit about living in Australia without anyone getting angry.
Well, Hermione had spent the whole thing quietly seething next to him but he didn't suppose he could blame her. It wasn't every day you found out your two best friends had almost killed you and hadn't had the decency to mention it once in-
"Seven years. Not one word in seven years."
"Technically Harry did the locking. I was the swish and flick bloke," he reminded her with a grin that she glared at until it faded. Ron suspected the only thing that stopped her shouting at him at her house had been the look on her dad's face. He'd looked just as angry as Hermione at the news that her boyfriend had once locked her in a room with a murderous beast, but what father wouldn't? Thankfully she had joined in with the retelling, making sure sounded as though she was fine with it all and that it had been a fun day, really.
However, for the rest of the night she hadn't held his hand or even looked at him so when she said she would walk him to his Apparition point, he had a feeling it was more to shout at him than anything else.
They reached the park at the end of her street, made their way past the swings and hid amongst the trees. Even in the moonlight he could make out her scowl.
"Anything else you've kept from me?"
"You look amazing tonight?" he tried.
She folded her arms and tried to hide her blush. "Are you saying that to get out of trouble or because you mean it?"
"Both?"
Almost reluctantly she stepped forward and hugged him around the waist. They stood there for a while, the soft sounds of the leaves and the distant rumble of traffic the only thing telling them that they weren't alone in the world.
"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed.
"What for?" Ron ask, bemused. Last time he had checked it was him in the dog house.
"Dad being difficult."
Her voice was so quiet that Ron could barely hear her. He kissed the top of her head and she squeezed him.
"This went better than the first time we met," he reasoned. Other than the odd bit of rudeness and him being standoffish in general, Ron hadn't thought it had gone too badly. Although, Hermione obviously knew he father better.
Hermione pulled back with a sniff and shook her head. "It shouldn't be like this," she mumbled and Ron could hear that she was close to crying. "I think you would really get on if it wasn't for-"
She trailed off and looked at her shoes.
"Australia?"
"Australia," she agreed at a whisper.
Their eyes met and Ron could almost pretend he was back in Adelaide, trying to pull himself together in the Grangers' garden. He'd been tempted to run and keep going until he couldn't anymore but his legs were lead and he was shaking too much to stand without leaning on the tree behind him anyway. Before he could choose his course of action he had heard Hermione's raise voice coming out of the still open front door.
"You have no right to speak to him like that! You don't know what he's done, what he's been through!"
"He doesn't know what we've been though," her father had fired back just as loud. "How dare he walk away from me, the coward-"
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that coward," Hermione had screeched. Against his better judgement, Ron had looked around the tree, into the front window. Mrs Granger was by her husband, crying silently, while Mr Granger looked halfway between anger and nausea. "That coward, who three days ago buried his brother and... I thought you would understand."
Hermione had left her father in the front room looking stunned and hurt. Ron hid himself behind the wide trunk of the tree again, still reeling from his actions and the mention of Fred. He was so preoccupied with trying to control his heart rate that he didn't notice Hermione had left the house until she was stood in front of him. Before he could speak, apologise until his throat gave out, she had pushed him against the tree and was attacking his lips with hers as though it was her last moment of Earth.
As his world had begun to right itself he had noticed how much she was shaking and he knew they were both as far from okay as they had ever been.
Looking at her in the low light now, so small she was almost childlike, Ron had the feeling she was remembering the same thing.
"It'll get better," he reassured her but she was shaking her head before he had finished speaking.
"He's my dad, Ron, and I-" Her voice broke and she closed her eyes. "We act like strangers half of the time."
Having spent the past couple of hours with them, Ron had to admit she was right. She could talk to her mum but everything with her dad had been forced and overly polite at best. He couldn't help but feel like he was to blame for it all. If he hadn't fucked up in Australia then maybe he would have reacted to the move better?
He pulled Hermione towards him but she resisted.
"It'll be all right. Promise," he said with a smile.
She looked up at him with a look of defeat that he despised. Hermione Granger never gave up. "You can't promise things like that," she dismissed.
"Well, I am," he told her stubbornly.
She went to respond and Ron knew he would never beat her in a battle of words so he dipped his head and kissed her. What started out as a peck to shut her up, quickly morphed into fingers scraping scalps and soft moans. As with every other time they were alone like this Ron forgot about bodies and explosions, caskets and gleaming read eyes, and let his entire existence become about Hermione. As long as they had this they would be okay. They could get through everything if she kept doing that thing with her tongue.
"Go on," Hermione said as she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, "or your mum will have a fit and I'm sure your dad is desperate to hear everything about my house."
In spite of her words, she continued to cling to him. With this and most of his blood being further south than it should have been, Ron was almost too lightheaded to change his features around in order to look serious.
"Do I start with the lightbulbs or the dishwasher?"
Another giggle and they were kissing again. Too soon, Hermione had broke it off again, this time stepping back as well.
"Go!" she laughed.
"I'm never going to be able to leave if you keep kissing me like that."
Hermione's expression went from shy to coy and this, mixed with her swollen lips, pink cheeks and messy hair, made Ron decide that this was as attractive as she could be and if he was wrong he was a dead man.
She stepped back into his personal space, threaded her hands into his hair and pulled him down so he could feel her breath on against his lips.
"Like this?" she whispered with a quirk of her eyebrows.
Yes, Ron thought, pulling her flush against him, they were going to be okay, as long as they had this.
