Ten

WAKING LATELY

The bed dipped as someone settled on the edge of the mattress beside him. He opened his eyes, peering up through the dark to see long hair, frizzy and wild, framing a face he could never forget.

"Changing things already, Ron?"

"That's what I'm here for." He frowned at her suddenly, then looked around. He was in the dormitory at Hogwarts, the other beds filled with sleeping eleven-year-olds. He looked back at Hermione, who looked all of her almost-twenty-five years. "How are you here?"

Her lips curled upward in a smile. "I'm just a dream, my love."

She bent closer until her hair hovered around his face, brushing against his cheeks. Her brown eyes gleamed with what looked like magic. He lifted his head up, pressing his lips against hers. His mouth burned with an incendio, his mind bursting like he'd just been hit with a cheering charm. He smiled against her lips. "You're the best kind of dream."

She pressed her lips briefly to his and he was sure he could taste magic. When she pulled back to look at him, her eyes were dancing with laughter. "It's time to wake up now, Ron. You're late."

Ron blinked open his eyes. The room was bright with magic, particles floating lazily through the air. He blinked. Particles of what? He stretched out his arms, reaching for Hermione, only to meet empty air.

He rolled over, wondering if she had gone to the office to do some research, and saw an eleven-year-old Harry lying in the bed across from him.

He was at Hogwarts.

He was eleven.

He looked out the window and saw the sun sitting high in the sky.

He was late!

He scrambled out of bed, tangled himself in the bed sheets, and tumbled to the floor. The word he said then didn't belong in the vocabulary of any eleven-year-old.

"Whassagoinon?" Dean Thomas asked, lifting his head from his pillow to display a puddle of drool where his face had been.

"We're late!" Ron snapped, kicking at his sheets and scrambling to his feet. "We need to get down to breakfast."

"Forget breakfast. Sleep."

"We have class after breakfast, Dean." He grabbed his clothes out of his trunk and began to strip, yanking on fresh clothes with the speed of someone who knew McGonagall's standards.

Dean ignored him, rolling over and going back to sleep.

"Dude, why are you changing in here?" Seamus yelled, covering his face with his hands. "I don't need to see your ass."

Ron ignored him. He pulled on his shirt and then threw his robes on over top of them. He turned to wake Harry, only to find the other boy had apparently heard them talking and woken up. He was in the process of getting dressed himself.

Running his fingers through his hair to try and turn it into some kind of decent, he hurried over to Neville's bed. He was the only boy who hadn't woken up to Ron's flailing escape for his bedsheets. He shook the boy's shoulder. "Come on, Neville, we're late for breakfast."

Neville sat up so fast they almost cracked heads. Ron leaned back just in time to avoid starting his dead with a headache. "What?" Neville asked, breathing heavily as though he had been running.

"We overslept," Ron said gently. He watched Neville blink away the remnants of whatever nightmare he had been trapped in. He had learned about Neville's parents in his sixth year, around the same time that he met his grandmother for the first time. The reasons for Neville's lack of confidence became clear pretty quickly. Ron hadn't been friends with Neville the way he had been with Harry and Hermione. They knew each other from being in the same House and having the same classes, but Neville had always been someone who messed things up, it seemed, or fell prey to other people, like Malfoy.

Things probably would have been better for him if he'd had people to turn to consistently, rather than living on the fringes of life at Hogwarts. Ron could help with that, too.

"They hand out our class schedules during breakfast. If we don't hurry down, McGonagall's gonna come looking for us, and I don't want to be here when she does."

Neville scrambled out of bed and grabbed his clothes from his trunk, rushing to the bathroom to change. Ron returned to his bed, grabbing the sheets and yanking them into some semblance of order. He half expected to see Scabbers roll into view, disturbed by his movements of the sheets, but that wasn't going to happen this year.

He'd wanted to get rid of the rat completely, call the Aurors and hand him over to them. It would get Sirius out of Azkaban, and that was a good thing, but as he and Hermione had discussed before he came back, it would also change the timeline too much for his foreknowledge to be of any use. He could change things, but he would have to be careful.

Despite his agreement with Hermione to hold off on dealing with the rat, he could hardly stand to look at the creature, knowing it was a Death Eater. When Percy had solemnly bequeathed the rodent to Ron, it had taken all of his self-control to avoid yanking out his wand and sending a cutting curse at the rat. He had managed to take Scabbers from Percy without throwing up, but he had quickly transferred the rat to a cage he asked his mum to transfigure. He had used the excuse that he was concerned about the owls from Charlie and Bill wouldn't know not to eat him and Ron would lose his new pet. In truth, he employed the lock on the cage with severe prejudice, though he was careful to keep his true feelings hidden from the rat. Best to act the doting owner who was scared for his new pet. He couldn't ask his mum for an unbreakable spell on the cage without sounded suspicious, especially with Fred and George whispering plans to each other every time they were just far enough out of earshot to avoid being overheard.

He'd thought long and hard about what to do with the rat. On one hand, he didn't want to let the creature out of his sight. On the other hand, close proximity and constantly seeing him would very possibly wear down Ron's willpower until he accidentally let Scabbers get eaten by one of the other students' pets. Lee Jordan had a pet tarantula. Would Peter Pettigrew being in a small form make him more affected by spider venom? If not, Ron knew where to find a nest of hungry Acromantula.

That was delving too close to Voldemort's way of doing things, and though the war would coming, it hadn't reached them yet. Ron had to be careful not to act on things that hadn't happened yet, though he would agree that Peter Pettigrew had paid for whatever would come to him. But not yet.

In the end, he had left Scabbers at home, citing concern that he might have a roommate with a cat, and asked Ginny if she would feed the rat for him. It would give her something to do and a set of eyes on the rat, though he had been concerned about leaving his little sister alone with a Death Eater. Even a coward of a Death Eater. He was limited in what he could do for now, though, and better to have Scabbbers none the wiser than in the dorm with him, slowly catching on that something was up.

Still, he felt off kilter, not having the rat there, and worried for his family, alone in the house with a rat he knew was actually a Death Eater. As he put his bed to rights and gathered up the books he would need for the day, he also made sure to grab some extra parchment. He'd write Ginny a letter during breakfast. He did promise, after all, and it would make him feel better to hear that she was doing well.

Neville came back into the dorm a few moments later and, he, Ron, and Harry all ready, they made their way down to breakfast.

"There you are!" Hermione said, standing up from her seat as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. "I was worried you were going to miss getting your class schedule."

And McGonagall was passing out their schedules, he could see. She came over to them as they took the empty seats Hermione had saved around her. She moved to one side to make room for Neville, who she hadn't expected, and a new plate popped up in front of him. The three of them began putting food on their plates.

"Good morning, Misters Weasley, Potter, and Longbottom." She waved her wand and three pieces of paper rose from the pile in her hands, hovering in the air in front of them. "These are you classes schedules for this term. I suggest not losing them, but be sure to memorize them, regardless. And you'll want to hurry up and eat so you can get what books you need from your dorm." She turned and headed off. "See you all in class."

Ron grabbed his schedule and shoved it in his pocket before going back to eating his breakfast. Hermione, after years of marriage and more years of friendship prior to that, had finally bullied him into having some manners. He still ate fast, but at least he had learned not to talk with his mouth full. Mostly he didn't talk much at all.

It was strange being eleven again, for a number of reasons. As an adult, he still loved to eat, but he hadn't realized until he came back how little he had been eating in comparison to when he was a child. He was lucky his mum was used to feeding growing boys, because at home, he had kept going for another helping of food, and it was the same in the Great Hall. He finished the sausages on his plate and piled on another helping of bacon, eggs, and a chocolate muffin as someone down the table called them to pass the plate.

"Um… Ron," Neville said, uncertain, "we have to go get our books."

Ron waved his hand at them. "I already brought mine. I'll catch up." He shoved another forkful of eggs in his mouth. Why was he so hungry?

Hermione hesitated as she rose from the table. "How did you know what classes we would have?"

Ron stilled. Um… how did he know that?

"Why, we told him, dear girl." Fred sidled up on Hermione's one side, giving her a grin when she looked at him, startled.

"We nabbed the schedule for McGonagall ages ago."

"Well, we say ages."

"More like hours."

"Only been here a day, after all."

"We're not that good."

"Yet!" they both said together, then grinned down at her.

"Um…" She looked completely flummoxed. Not a common look for Hermione.

"Gred, Forge." The two of them looked delighted that Ron had used their nicknames.

"We're Ron's very attractive old brothers. I'm Fred."

"And I'm George. Pleasure to meet you, Miss…"

Hermione blushed as George grabbed her hand and bent over it in a very traditional Lord-greeting-a-lady form. "Granger Hermione, I mean… I'm Hermione." She gave an embarrassed smile. "Hi."

"Hi, indeed, dear lady."

Fred smacked his brother. "Stop it, you're making her nervous."

"Your face is making her nervous."

"You're both making me nervous," Ron spouted, brandishing a fork at them. "Thanks for letting me know what classes I had, not that I wasn't worried you might be pranking me."

"Us, prank our dear little brother?"

"Perish the thought, Ronniekins. Surely you think better of us than that."

Ron pointed the fork at them and they laughed. "Fine, we'll go." George detached himself from Hermione, giving her a wink before wandering off.

"Enjoy Potions!" Fred declared, taking off after his brother.

"Enjoy Defense!" he shouted back, then chuckled to himself. He turned to find Hermione watching him. He eyed his plate, shoved the final piece of bacon in his mouth, and stood. "Don't worry about my brothers. They're weird and they might turn your hair blue at some point, but they mean well."

Hermione smiled softly. "There are weird."

"Yep! But it's definitely going to keep Hogwarts interesting."

They met the others as they stepped into the Common Room. Harry and Neville was coming down the stairs with their bags, a still-half-asleep Dean and Seamus stumbling behind them. Hermione raced up to her room and came down a few minutes later with her own bag thumping against her hip.

"Are we late?"

Ron pulled out his wand and did a tempus spell before he even thought about it, then stared at the glowing numbers in the air so he couldn't meet Hermione's curious eyes. He didn't learn that spell until third year, but…

"My brother Bill taught me an alarm spell, too, but I didn't remember to set it this morning."

"Oh, that will be helpful," Hermione said. "It was hard to wake up without my alarm clock."

Ron breathed an internal sigh of relief, glad that she hadn't caught on. He knew, even without her having warned him, that she would be watching his every move the moment he proved to be someone she needed to struggle to keep up with academically. Even more than Quirrell, who despite having Voldemort attached to the back of his head was an idiot, she would be his biggest concern as he tried to adapt to being younger again.

Then again, they had both been certain he would arrive sometime in his third year. At least this is how this Hermione knew him from the start. It would hopefully make things a little easier.

"We still have half an hour," he supplied. "But I don't want to be late to Snape's class." He moved toward the portrait hole and the others followed him. Dean and Seamus muttered something about breakfast and went a different direction while Ron led them toward the dungeons.

"You seem to know a lot about the professors here."

Ron grinned at Hermione. "I have five older brothers." He saw Hermione's eyes widen. "Yeah. You met Fred and George. Percy's one of the Prefects. Charlie works on a dragon preserve in Romania, and Bill is a cursebreaker in Egypt."

"You told us about Bill on the train," she remembered. "Five? Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, and a little sister. She starts Hogwarts next year. But my older brothers have all told me a bit about the professors, except for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, since he's new, but they only after last a year at most and they're usually… the best that Dumbledore can find." Which didn't say much, really.

"So what do you know about Professor Snape?" she asked. Good. Exactly the discussion he wanted to have. He glanced at Harry and Neville to make sure they were listening. Now, how to say this diplomatically...

"Professor Snape is very serious about Potions. They're dangerous to fool around with, because one wrong move and things can explode." Which really, if you looked at it from that perspective, it made sense that he would be so strict. A pity that wasn't consistent. "But he's biased for his own House, so even if they do something wrong, he doesn't punish them for it."

As the end of the war grew nearer, Ron, Harry, and Hermione found themselves working with the other Houses. Not just Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but also Slytherin. It had been difficult for Ron at first, and he hadn't made it easy for anyone else, jumping to conclusions and calling every one of them a Death Eater. He assumed each one of them was exactly like Draco Malfoy, and he'd made absolutely no secret of it. He didn't want to admit that they were human, even as he learned more about them. Although he accepted the necessity of working with them, he kept them at arm's length, refusing to trust them completely. Of course, everything eventually came to a head during the Battle of Hogwarts. It was Daphne Greengrass, one of those mistrusted Slytherins, who died defending a younger group of Hufflepuffs, and Astoria, her younger sister, who killed Bellatrix Lestrange in a fury after her sister's death. She'd nearly died in the fight, her magical core rupturing from the use of more powerful magic than her still-growing core could handle. Tracey Davis recovered from her physical injuries, but she never emotionally recovered from the death of her girlfriend. They lost contact with her after the battle. She didn't even stay around to finish her education.

After the war was over, the only Slytherin that Ron and Hermione kept in contact with was Blaise. Astoria had left Britain with him for a country with better views of "dark creatures," and they learned from him that though she never recovered her magic after her core's eruption left her little better than a squib, she met and fell in love with a half-merman. Last he'd heard, she had three beautiful quarter-mermaid daughters, one of whom had displayed magic and would likely be invited to go to Beauxbatons. That would tip the world on its head.

Ron could honestly say that Blaise had turned out to be a friend. A good friend, even. He fell in with a vampire coven that migrated across a vast area and would send Ron and Hermione letters of his efforts to come to terms with his new condition. They learned a lot about vampires that way and had even gone to visit him at one point - a visit which culminated in Hermione interviewing the clan's leader. With his permission (and, quite frankly, pleased approval), Hermione published a book on the true nature of vampires. It was scoffed at by many, but some schools outside of Britain had picked it up and added it to their curriculum. Hermione also received a heartfelt thanks for her kind and true portrayal from the clan leader, and an offer to turn the both of them, if mortal life ever left them bored and they hoped to try something new.

They had both declined, but Ron recognized that look in his wife's eyes. Thirty or forty years down the road might have had them accepting, and Marius had time to wait.

"That seems unfair," Hermione said, drawing Ron out of his thoughts. He turned to look at her, thinking about what he had been saying. Oh. Right.

"Yeah, but he's got a good reason for it. Listen to the way the other students, and even the teachers, treat Slytherin. They're constantly seen as being the House of Death Eaters, even though that's not true. Everyone thinks they're evil and treats them that way. So it's not really any surprise if they become exactly what they've been told they always were, is it?"

He didn't know for sure, but he and Hermione both suspected that if they hadn't been so reluctant to consider the Slytherins potential allies, they might have been able to keep some of the others from turning toward Voldemort. Draco Malfoy had been a lost cause from the start and Pansy Parkinson would follow the ferret anywhere, but as he understood it from Blaise, Theodore Nott had been conflicted about where his family stood, until he was given an ultimatum. It was when he had nowhere else to turn that he accepted to Dark Mark and became their enemy, but before that, he had been just a boy.

An eleven-year-old boy , Ron reminded himself. Even Malfoy, evil as he was, was only eleven.

"That's not right," Neville said, his face screwed up in thought. "Why do the teachers treat the students like that, too. Shouldn't they be unbiased?"

"Probably," Ron said, "but they were affected by the war, too, and they're only human. It's not an excuse for failing to be proper teachers, but they can't really jump on Snape's back for being biased against the other Houses when they're guilty of the same thing."

"So he's strict and biased toward Slytherin. What else?" Harry asked, as though ticking off notes.

Ron hesitated, wondering how to put this. "He tends to choose who he wants to answer a question for a reason. He doesn't like when other people jump in to try and answer for them." He didn't look at Hermione. "It's best to just sit quietly, pay attention, take notes, and only talk when he speaks to you."

Hermione looked horrified at not being able to ask questions. "What if I don't understand something?"

"If it's not something that will have your cauldron blowing up if you don't have an answer right then, I'd research it yourself or ask an older student."

Neville frowned. "I don't know… I'm really not very good at magic. I'm practically a squib. What if I melt my cauldron because I don't understand?" His face was white with nerves.

"You won't , Neville. You said you like plants, right?" Neville nodded even though Ron knew he hadn't told him anything about liking plants. "So Potions uses a lot of plants. It pairs well with Herbology, and you know a ton about plants. You'll be fine." Neville looked dubious. "Besides, Snape let's up sit in pairs. Hermione can sit with Harry and I'll sit with you. Between the two of us, we won't blow anything up."

"O-okay," Neville said, unsure.

"What do you mean about not blowing anything up?" Hermione asked sharply. "It's our first class! We're not just going straight to brewing!"

"You read your Potions book, right, Hermione?"

"Yes. Of course."

"So you know how to brew Potions." He grinned at her as they arrived at the corridor outside the classroom.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, but Ron just continued to smile. He wasn't concerned. The three of them had practiced Potions independently as the war raged and even after. Ron would never be a Potions Master, and he'd certainly never be as good as Hermione, but he could still brew all his first year potions without a problem. If he was honest with himself, he was almost looking forward to it.

That probably should have been his first clue that things wouldn't go as planned.