Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Nostalgia
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It was a beautiful day outside; the kind of day that, years ago, would have drawn all of the Weasley children out into the backyard for a round of Quidditch. The Burrow seemed strangely quiet today, and when Hermione climbed down stairs, she came upon an empty kitchen.

As she opened the door and walked outside, she remembered the days when this act alone meant danger. Was it really only a few years ago that a door could be opened only after proper passwords and identification had been given? She went days, weeks, even months without thinking of Voldemort or the terrible battle at Hogwarts, but it had once consumed her. There was a whole generation of children, already alive, who would never know Voldemort's name outside of a history book. It was amazing how quickly everything could change.

Hermione saw Ron lying on his back in the grass. She walked toward him almost on instinct; she found it amazing that even after all these years, her feet could still know the way to him. He must have sensed her, for he opened his eyes and sat up as she approached. She took a spot beside him and ran her hands over the soft blades of grass. She could hear the sound of Ginny's squeals off in the distance as Harry picked her up and threw her in the water.

'How long have they been together?' she asked. It felt strange to have missed out on such an important thing in the lives of two of her oldest and closest friends. She wondered how many other things she had missed, things that seemed so trivial that they would never waste time telling her about; things that she was desperate to hear, to know.

'Who knows,' said Ron vaguely. 'Years.' He did not seem ready to speak to her just yet, or perhaps he was ready but was instead unwilling. She wondered if he would ever be her friend again. She was about to get up and leave when he made his peace offering: 'They're engaged, you know.'

She was not sure why this affected her so much, but she felt her throat close up and her heart begin to race. Would she and Ron have ever gotten there, if things had played out differently? And would it really have been the best thing for either of them? 'Are they?'

'The wedding's in October,' he continued. 'You could – I bet Ginny could find a seat for you somewhere. If you wanted to come. I'm sure Harry would like you to be there.'

Harry's wedding was something that should have been important to her. It should have been an event that she would not want to miss for the world. And yet, more than anything, she felt uncomfortable with the idea of attending. Harry was her best friend and she was certainly glad and grateful for his happiness. She knew that nobody deserved a happy ending quite as much as he did. But she had no desire to celebrate with him, or to witness the celebration even from afar. There had been a point in her life when she would have been Ginny's maid-of-honour, when she would have stood up in front of everyone and given a beautiful toast. And as she sat in the backyard of a home in which she was no longer entirely welcome, with a boy to whom she no longer belonged, she realized that time was long gone.

'I'd like that,' Hermione said, but only because she did not want to offend anyone. She longed for a welcomed place here, even though she knew for certain she would never again find herself at The Burrow's doorstep.

……………………………………………………………

'Dear?' said Mrs Weasley, pulling Hermione out of her daze. 'The car is here.'

'Right,' Hermione said. She stood from the table and began to gather her things.

'Let me help you with those,' said Mr Weasley. He wore a mysterious grin on his face, one that – if possible – made Hermione even more nervous. 'I think you're really going to enjoy the car I've got for you, Hermione.'

She felt her stomach sink. Arthur held quite a fascination for Muggle appliances, but despite his good intentions, it usually did not end well.

Mrs Weasley glanced out the window and gasped. 'Arthur! What in the world –?' Hermione looked out over her shoulder and saw a black limousine parked out front, waiting for her. The driver was chatting with Harry while Ron, looking rather amazed, repeatedly opened and closed the trunk.

'Mr Weasley!' said Hermione. 'You didn't have to do this. Really. But it's wonderful.' She hugged Ron's parents and did her best not to cry while saying her goodbyes. As Mr Weasley carried her belongings to the car, Ginny came down the stairs and approached her.

'If an owl ever comes to me with a letter from you, I'll respond to it,' Ginny said. 'And if you're ever in town and contact me, I would be glad to meet you for lunch. But if I never hear from you again … well, I'm fine with that, too.'

It was the best she would get from Ginny, and far more than she had expected. Hermione thanked her, congratulated her once again on her engagement, and left the kitchen without another word. This time around, she was careful not to make a promise that she knew she probably wouldn't keep.

'It feels like you just got here,' Harry told her as he walked her out to the car.

'Are you kidding?' Hermione said lightly, glancing at The Burrow over her shoulder. 'It feels like I've been here for ages. Like I never even left, maybe.'

'You never did,' said Harry softly, seriously. 'You don't realize the kind of presence a person has until they're gone. But you … you're still everywhere.'

Hermione smiled at Harry and felt a pang of guilt. How could she not have set aside time to write him, time to come back here and visit? She had been so preoccupied with staying away from Ron that she had forgotten about the others. How could she have done that?

'Ginny … Merlin knows she isn't a very forgiving person …' he admitted uneasily. 'But I want you to know that to me, there's nothing to forgive. You were there for me when nobody else was. You picked me up when I was at my lowest, when I thought there was no way in hell I could make it past seventh year. You were my best friend, even during times when so much as loaning me a quill meant Death Eaters might be knocking down your door. And there's nothing you could do to me or to anyone else that could ever make me forget that. I don't want to lose touch again, but I understand that this place and these people are just reminders of a life that didn't work out the way you needed it to. So if I never hear from you again, I'll miss you terribly, but I could never think less of you because of it. Okay?'

Hermione had no response. She pulled Harry into her arms and breathed in his scent. This moment had made all of it worth it. She would not attend Harry's wedding; she did not have it in her to step back into her old life, even for another afternoon. But this boy – this man – was her best friend and her brother, and he would always be. She remembered the time spent on the run from Voldemort, and how every moment she had been so desperately afraid that something or someone would take him away from her. How could she have learned to take him for granted?

'I love you,' she told him when they had separated. She knew she would never be able to say it enough. 'I'll see you soon. Really, I will. I promise.'

'I believe in you,' he said. She knew that he did, that he always had.

'Ready to go?' Ron said, approaching them.

Harry reached for Hermione's hand and squeezed it gently. 'Have a safe trip,' he said. 'You're always welcome here. Don't forget.'

'I won't,' Hermione said softly. She watched as Harry patted Ron on the back and left. 'I'd better get going,' she said awkwardly.

'Could I come?' Ron asked. It took her by such surprise that she did not immediately reply. 'I haven't been in a car in ages.'

'I'd like that,' Hermione said honestly. She climbed in, slid over, and Ron settled into the seat beside her. The driver began to pull away from The Burrow.

'Take one last look,' Ron said. He did not intend for his words to be rude or condescending, and she did not take them that way. Hermione twisted around and glanced over her shoulder. Harry and the Weasleys were standing in the yard to see her off. They all waved goodbye – even Ginny. Hermione leaned out the window and waved until they were so far down the road that she could no longer see the outline of their house. But she did not need to see them to know that they were all still waving too.

She noticed Ron watching her, and it made her heart ache.

'You still look at me the way you used to,' she said.

'And which way is that?' he asked.

'The way you used to. I don't know. You used to look at me like that and I used to think that there was no other boy in the world looking at any other girl in the world with quite the same look in his eyes.'

'There wasn't,' he said. 'It's easy to say that no other boy is ever going to love another girl the way I loved you, the way we loved each other. And in hindsight, we know that's not true – there are a million loves out there that are stronger, or better, or purer than ours was. But it never feels like that at the time, does it?' He sounded so much older, so much wiser. It made her feel sad and uncomfortable to know that his wisdom had grown out of his pain – pain she had caused him, pain they had caused each other.

'No,' she agreed, 'it never does. You were my first love, and it felt like nobody else in the world had ever felt quite as much for another as I did for you. I thought I was going to love you forever.'

'Forever turned out to be a lot shorter than we thought, eh?' He laughed, and then the look was gone.

'Ron,' she said. She grabbed his hand, needing him to know that she meant this. 'I was wrong about a lot of things back then. I can admit that now. But I was never wrong about us, or about loving you. I haven't stopped, and I can't imagine I ever will. I mean, is it even possible to really stop loving someone?'

'If I figure it out, I'll let you know,' he said. It was easier to speak, now, about the things that had gone wrong then.

She reached for the bottle of champagne. Once they both had a glass, she clinked hers against his in cheers. 'To love,' she said.

'Even when it isn't enough,' he added with a grin, and she smiled.

……………………………………………………………

When the limousine slowed to a stop and the driver came around to open Hermione's door for her, Ron felt incredibly rushed. The hour-long drive felt as though it had lasted five minutes, and now, suddenly too soon, it was time for Hermione to leave.

They got out of the car and Ron picked up her bag. 'Do you see him anywhere?' he asked, almost hoping that the dates had been mixed up and Hermione would have to stay an extra day or two. He was not looking for time in which to repair his relationship with her; but it had been so long since he had been able to call Hermione a friend, and now that she was again, he was not sure he wanted to let that go.

'There he is,' Hermione said. But instead of rushing over to him, she slowed her stride. 'Ron, I …'

She studied his expression, and Ron knew that she was trying to understand him. But he wasn't certain what – if anything – he was feeling. One part of him wanted nothing more than to leave now and spare himself the awkwardness of having to shake hands and make small talk with Jonathan. But another, larger part of him knew that he needed to meet this man. He could not let Hermione disappear again until he knew that she was not heading toward danger or disappointment or heartbreak.

'Ready?' he asked her, just to be sure. Looking at her now, seeing the way her bottom lip quivered, he was not sure that she was ready to leave him. And if the knot in his stomach was any indication, he was not entirely prepared for her departure either. Jonathan hadn't spotted them yet; they locked eyes, and for a fleeting second, they shared an incredible thought – we could leave, just the two of us, and be halfway across the world before anyone noticed. Images of what they'd once had – of what they could get back – swam through their minds in one hazy, endless moment. But then the moment fell away, and they remembered themselves. Hermione put on brave face, and Ron found that matching it was the least he could do.

'Let's get going,' she said after a long pause. Hermione had always been cautious – had always been the one to overanalyze every situation. If she was going to walk over there and go back to her other life, a life that did not include Ron or Harry or any of the rest of them … well, perhaps Ron would never like it, but he could at least rest assured that it was truly the best option for all of them.

He stayed half a step behind her and kept his eyes glued to Jonathan's back as they approached. When they were about twenty feet away, Jonathan turned around and spotted them. The change in his expression was immediate, and Ron recognized it all too well. They embraced in front of Ron, and he was not bothered by it; because he recognized the look on Hermione's face, too, and more than anything he was content in knowing she had found someone who could make her look like that again.

She introduced the two men hesitantly, but she had no reason to feel uncomfortable. Ron asked how Jonathan's journey to England had been, and Jonathan thanked him for taking care of Hermione. They spoke pleasantly for another minute or two, and then they all knew that the time had come.

Hermione looked at him with goodbye in her eyes, and even as she walked away for what was most definitely the last time, Ron found that he could smile.

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The end!