1-17-11 Important A/N: This chapter was not originally included in this story. In fact, it was complete in it's four happy chapters one day less than a year ago. Many flames have graced its presence and through them all I have still found a few precious, well meant criticisms. Off of them, I have come to realize that the transition was a bit too abrupt for many readers, and so I add this very optional chapter. Hence, the chapter title. Enjoy!
Harry slipped back to sleep beside his best mate, and almost laughed at the ludicrousness of the fantastic sentiments that had flitted through his mind. In love with Hermione? Sexy? Hot? Ever since Voldemort's death date, Harry's brain had been absolutely intolerable to all-nighters… and now, with water and Hermione's advice running through him, he knew that everything was going to be all right. Everyone found their own way to grow up in seven years, faster than most adults ever did… and now… and now… and now…The thought finished itself in a snore.
For Hermione, however, sleep was once again not immediate. This time, rather than impatient frustration, Hermione gloried in the glow of warm night around her, as tangible as the sleeping bag crumpled over her knees.
"I remembered my mother's once cryptic advice to never make decisions when horizontal, even alone, and it seemed to make sense now, because your mind was much closer to extreme states in this position –depression, dreaming, insanity."
Sitting up in the same warmth she had lain in, she thought of the muggle ABCD's high thoughts. "It's called reading. You should try it sometime." How could she have been depressed in the precious present, dreamed of any sexual attraction to a friend who was no less of a sibling than her own sister, been insane enough to consider redacting the post-war peace for a distant possibility? She closed her eyes, her back very straight against Ginny's sturdy wooden desk, and remembered…
When it actually started to work, they thought she might have been developing a higher tolerance for him and learning to accept that his mouth worked before his mind could rectify it, or that his mouth was slowing down and he'd finally learned some people skills. Then they decided that there was no use quantifying growth, because it was happening, happening, happening… Their faults were their communication, their way of accepting themselves and everyone else. Except, of course, that now when they felt the need, they could cut short the tirades by otherwise occupying their mouths.
"I've never really been on a date before," she confessed to him, noting that his face was a paler hue than usual. "I mean, Viktor took me to the Ball fourth year and the library and his ship, but our choices were rather limited." It wasn't real, she was saying. Forgive me for not being impeccable.
"Er, same here, actually. I mean, with Lavender we mostly just… yeah." Why were my decisions so stupid? So I could learn how to kiss you better… The pensieve helped: he showing her everything because "I'm not that good with words for feelings and stuff, but I still think I'm a little more impressive than a teaspoon."
"What should we do, then? You're the one who's taking me out." Of course, Hermione would want structure.
Ron smiled at the idea of her asking him a question. "What we've always done, I guess." And then he turned to face her as they continued to walk, trusting her to lead him through the mob traffic safely. "And… what we've always wanted to do." Shyly, a large warm hand snaked around hers, and bright red had never seemed so sweet.
It was funny they bothered with the dates, as it had already been set that one day. As the adrenaline faded, perhaps the longevity just needed assurance. In the chaos after the battle, Ron had somehow gotten her alone. He hugged her, he said urgently, "Did you mean it?" and she could say yes without a second thought and already he was proposing another question "Would you mean it for the rest of my life?" and where on earth had he found the time to get a ring and it wasn't ugly like she would've expected and the second yes was easier, swifter, lighter, stronger than the first and for the second time that day he swept her off her feet.
Seventh year had been erratic, unable to be classified. Three teens in a tent- who was responsible that brilliant plan? Voldemort, no less. At first, it was fast- one Horcrux retrieved, one man injured, one house locked off. Then it slowed down, and one man injured became one man departed. The tears were first of fury, but eventually it was just the pain of missing him, not tempered by anger that was long worn out. Smiles were seldom, his name was avoided, and spirits alternated between determination, frustration, and nostalgia… until he came back. "I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice came out of this… My name. 'Ron.' …So I took it out… I was sure I'd heard you… It sort of floated toward me, right to my chest, and then –it just went straight through. It was here. I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I knew it would take me where I needed to go." He came back for her, because her voice went through to his heart, inside, hot, like that nervous flushed face.
How did people usually get married? Your spouses weren't typically your beaux from school. People met, dated a few years, survived a few hardships together and then figured "This is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with." And when they found out that their spouses, when they were children, acted like children and made mistakes like children and ran like children, it was a peripheral concern which dissolved when you opened your eyes again to observe who they were now. So –she knew how he'd been like, and she'd been the little girl he accidentally made cry: Was it any different, now that he'd apologized for it, grown past it, and made amends to that selfsame person and learned to look so far beyond her bushy hair and buck teeth that he could kiss away her tears after nightmares of Bellatrix Lestrange and tell her that she was perfect?
"Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right," she herself had told Harry and Ron, nearly two years ago, even before Ginny-and-Harry happened. She turned her head to regard the peacefully sleeping redhead, a hand pale in the darkness curling into a fist and releasing again as her mind ran through impossibly far dreams... Ginny, who harbored monsters in a past that did not follow theirs to the T and could give Harry a family by blood in more ways than one.
Her back, leaning against Ginny's desk, gradually slumped down to a lying position, and sleepy hands, as sleepy instinct drove, pulled the sheets around her to suffocate her limbs completely. Her mind was set with smiles against the world, and against the next day, and like the obligatory two feet beyond her homework assignments, it had finally given her leave to rest.
A/N: That chapter was basically for two amazing recent reviewers who actually motivated me to improve:
Moonspinner: I've all ready had some amazing PM-conversation with you, and this is how the whole thing turned out. I ended up not changing any previous chapters, just adding this in to try and smooth out the transition. Also, it includes some random HG/RW fluff that I couldn't avoid- after all, this is "the good parts version" because it's her wedding night and you can't wed in sadness (well, you technically can, but that's in a tragedy.)
Rick Peterson: Good point about the sister. Oh well. I guess that's my random AU component of the story. I'm glad you seem to have found my story "believable," and it was your positive review that catalyzed me to actually shove this thing in there, though you are actually the one person who seemed to be satisfied with the way it was.
Also, random acknowledgments to mentioned works: Ashley Wilkes from Gone With the Wind, whelmed from 10 Things I Hate About You, and the quote in this chapter was from Born Confused.