Hermione caught Dedalus Diggle's eye and waved him over. The last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had just concluded with the dissolution of the Order, and one of the items of business had been preparing the Dursleys' home for their return from hiding. Mr. Diggle spoke to an older woman who stood and joined him, and Hermione had to admit Harry was right: Mrs. Figg was the exact image of the classic crazy cat lady with her tartan slippers, fur-covered clothes, and vacuous demeanor. At least she wasn't wearing a housedress.

"Mr. Potter." Mr. Diggle beamed, shaking Harry's hand so vigorously he nearly shook Harry. "A great pleasure to see you. A great pleasure."

"Thanks, Dedalus," Harry said, looking as uncomfortable as he always did when someone responded to his fame.

"I'm very glad to see you, Harry," Mrs. Figg said.

A genuine smile this time. "Hullo, Mrs. Figg. Do you know everyone?" Without waiting for an answer, he introduced Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville.

"What time should we meet you on Friday, Mrs. Figg?" Neville said.

"Oh, let's start early and get it done. Eight o'clock? I'll fix breakfast."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—" Hermione was not being polite. Harry had shared little about his childhood and summers, but from what she could remember, Mrs. Figg's cooking was not a highlight.

"Rubbish. I haven't had anyone to cook for since Harry got big enough to stay by himself."

"Well, I think I'm going to leave it to all of you, if that's all right," Harry said. "I, uh, I don't really want to go back."

"Perfectly understandable, Mr. Potter," Mr. Diggle said gently.

"I hope—" Harry hesitated, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I hope they didn't give you too much trouble."

Mr. Diggle smiled. "We muddled along. They're doing well. Eager to go home, now that it's over."

"Can they, though?" Ron said. "I mean—" He turned to Hermione. "If you think the Death Eaters may have cursed your parents' house, they definitely cursed Harry's."

Harry winced. "They knew where it was too. They were waiting for us, the night the Order moved me to the Burrow."

"We've thought of that, Mr. Potter," Mr. Diggle said. "I mentioned it to Professor McGonagall, and she referred me to your brother." He nodded to Ron. "Bill, I believe?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, Bill's the one you should talk to."

"Perhaps you could introduce us?"

Ron left with Mr. Diggle, Mrs. Figg excused herself, and Fleur dragged Harry away to meet the friends she'd recruited from Beauxbatons. Neville was chatting with Aberforth Dumbledore and Luna had drifted … somewhere, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked her.

Ginny started, looking away from Harry to face Hermione. "Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. You're just very quiet."

Ginny had said nothing about going to the Dursleys, neither volunteering to help when it came up during the meeting nor participating in the recent discussion.

"Busy day." She began clearing the table.

Hermione stood to help. "Friday will be too, I expect."

"Mmm."

Well. It looked like Ginny's devotion to Harry had limits, after all.

()()()()

Hermione stared out the window of the Burrow's sitting room several minutes later, listening to Harry and Ron argue about when to start Auror training and trying not to cry. Kingsley had just offered all of them a position in the Auror Academy without their N.E.W.T.s, and Ron and Harry had accepted. She shouldn't be surprised that Ron didn't want to come back to Hogwarts, but she had been hoping she could persuade him over the course of the summer. She hadn't expected this decision to come so soon.

"Hermione?" Harry said tentatively.

"I can't believe you two don't want to go back." How could anyone not want to go back to someplace as wonderful, as incredible, as magical as Hogwarts?

"Then you weren't paying attention the first six years," Ron said. "You're the one who likes school, not me and Harry."

Hermione turned, not bothering to hide her tears.

Harry hurried across the room towards her, obviously alarmed, and Ron put an arm round her shoulders.

"You're both smart and talented," she said, the old frustration of watching two capable wizards blowing off their education rising to the surface. "You would pass your N.E.W.T.s with no problems, I know you would. I'd help!"

"Hermione, Ron and I wouldn't even have been able to take Potions last year if Slughorn hadn't accepted Exceeds Expectations," Harry said. "What if we went back and our marks weren't good enough? You know we've wanted to be Aurors since fourth year."

She remembered that exact conversation with not-Moody. "I know, but—"

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Hermione," Ron said earnestly. "I can't turn it down. You can understand that, can't you?"

"But—" Her lip trembled, and she realized she was going to have to spell this out for them. "But I've never been at Hogwarts without either of you." She glanced at Harry and back to Ron, trying to remind him without words of the difficulties she'd had the first few months of her first year.

"You won't be alone," Harry said. "You'll be in Ginny's year— and Luna's! You know lots of seventh years from the DA."

"But I want you to come with me," Hermione said, looking up directly into Ron's face.

"Hermione…." Ron placed both hands on her upper arms, rubbing up and down.

She heard the front door close softly behind Harry but didn't break Ron's gaze. She could see all she needed to know in his eyes. He hated to disappoint her … but he was going to do it anyway.

"I don't want to go back," Ron said. "I know Hogwarts means something special to you because it was where you learned about the magical world for the first time. But after this year, I just can't picture myself going to lessons and mucking about in the common room, buying sweets in Hogsmeade or revising in the library. Not when there are still Death Eaters on the loose. Not when there's so much work to be done outside of it. Please, try to understand."

She stepped forward and rested her cheek on his chest. "I do understand. I just don't like it."

Ron's arms wrapped around her, and Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into him more fully. Safe. She relished the sense of safety she felt in his embrace, and it made her feel brave. Like she could do anything.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, tightening her grip on his back. "I don't want to think about being separated from you, not when— when—"

"When we've finally found each other."

She leaned her head back to smile up at him and accepted his kiss. Four months. She had almost four whole months to spend with Ron this summer, and she wasn't going to spoil it worrying about school.

()()()()

The suffocating compression eased and Ron opened his eyes, pleased to find himself exactly where he'd deliberately determined his destination to be: across the street from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He spotted his brother at once; at over six feet tall and with the same flaming red hair as Ron, Bill stood out in a crowd even before the scars from Greyback caused strangers to give him a wide berth. Moving quietly, Ron approached from the opposite direction Bill expected and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Bloody hell, Ron!"

Ron grinned at the (admittedly impressive) scowl, pleased to have got the drop on Bill for once.

He glanced over Ron's shoulder to the Apparition point. "Is that even legal?"

"Freshly minted as of Tuesday," Ron said, pulling the license out of his pocket and showing it off. "What are you doing out here?"

"Reckoned you'd need an escort," Bill said. "I thought Hermione would be with you."

"Nah, too much to do so we split up. She's home packing, I'm stuck with a list of errands. I have to meet Percy after this."

Ron followed his brother as he took the white stone steps two at a time and nodded to the goblin at the door. Ron noticed the goblin seemed even more suspicious than usual, then realized the last time he'd been here, he'd flown out on the back of a dragon. They stepped inside the marble hall, busy with customers and tellers, a far cry from the empty, echoing cavern it had been just—

Had it really been only a fortnight since he, Harry, and Hermione had broken in here only to break out again?

"Ron?" Bill was ten feet in front of him.

"Coming."

"I've been getting the evil eye all week," Bill said, leading Ron past the tellers, opening the half-door at the end of the counter, and turning right down a hallway of offices. "You, Harry, and Hermione are seriously personae non gratae around here, and the goblins are convinced I had something to do with it."

"Sorry about that," Ron said, dodging a goblin levitating a tray of bullion who made no pretense at hiding his dislike, even turning to continue his glare.

"Are you kidding?" Bill said, entering his office and waving Ron towards a chair. "My kid brother getting past all the goblins' security?"

"We had help."

Bill snorted. "That was obvious even before you left Shell Cottage. Still, I'll have bragging rights for the rest of my career."

After a moment, Ron realized Bill wasn't baring his teeth but rather exposing them in a smile, and his eyes twinkled. He wasn't angry, he was—chuffed?

"Every time someone tells that story, which I reckon will be a hell of a lot, I'll get to say, 'yeah, that Ron Weasley? I'm his brother.' "

Ron flushed, stunned at the idea of Bill identifying himself as his brother rather than the other way round.

Bill performed a complicated set of wand movements before opening his bottom desk drawer. "Charlie's dead jealous, you know."

Ron laughed. "I know. He asked me about it a couple nights ago."

Bill pulled an envelope and a money bag from the drawer and laid them in front of Ron.

"What's this?" Ron picked up the envelope, which was fat but light.

"Half of Hermione's Muggle account in Australian dollars," Bill said. "There's a card in there too. I included a receipt so she knows how much is left in the account."

"It's paper?"

"Muggle money is, yeah. At least the larger denominations. This—" Bill pushed the money bag forward, its clinking coins revealing its wizarding contents— "Is your share of Fred's estate. I cashed out the whole thing, but I strongly recommend you open an account in your name and redeposit at least half of it. You can access a Gringotts account anywhere in the world."

Ron stared at the bag, unsure how he felt about it. All he knew was he didn't want to touch it—not to hold it, and not to spend it.

"It's yours, Ron," Bill said quietly. "Fred wanted you to have it."

"It should belong to George. For the shop."

"He did leave some for the shop. This is what he left for you."

Ron clenched his jaw and looked away. He didn't want to cry in front of Bill, not here, not after what he just said.

"What are you doing with yours?"

"Fleur and I haven't decided yet. We're thinking maybe a honeymoon, or … saving it for a little niece or nephew."

Ron forced a smile. "Fred would go for the honeymoon."

"Yeah. I reckon he would." Bill picked up the moneybag and threw it at Ron, fast enough he didn't have time to think, just catch. "Like I said, I'd save at least half … but Fred would be disappointed if you didn't blow some of it on something ridiculous in Australia."

"And Hermione," Ron said, considering this for the first time. With the weight of the coins in his palm, he could buy her something really nice. Something she wouldn't buy for herself. Something a boyfriend would buy.

"And Hermione," Bill agreed.