A/N: An extra heap of kudos to my beta superfan24 for drying my tears over reviews for the last chapter and for pulling double duty and reviewing two chapters in one go.
Chapter 13: Heroes
18 December, 1998
Miss Hermione Jean Granger
We at the Ministry are delighted to inform you that in recognition for your services in the Second Wizarding War and in playing an integral part in the defeat of the dark wizard Tom M. Riddle, you have been selected as a recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. The award ceremony, along with a commemoration for those who gave their lives in the war, will be held the first of January at Bamburgh Castle at sunset, followed by a Ball in honor of yourself and your fellow recipients. We graciously hope you will accept this award and acquiesce to our request for your presence at the ceremony.
Forever in your debt,
Yours sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic
Tiberius Ogden, Chief Warlock, Wizengamot
H,
I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight. Mum sort of lost it a bit last night, and I wouldn't feel right leaving her. Hope you're not too mad. I'll make it up to you. Did you get a letter about this Order of Merlin nonsense? What am I thinking, of course you did. Pretty wicked right? I was thinking maybe we could go together. Unless some Bulgarian git already asked you?
Don't tell Ginny about Mum. I don't want her to worry.
R
Hermione had received the first letter the day before and the second one this morning. The first was unexpected, but not surprising. It had been three months since Rita's article lambasted herself and Harry, plenty of time for the public to forget any hard feelings toward their beloved darling heroes. With no trace of arrogance, Hermione had actually expected to receive the Order of Merlin at some point; she was just surprised that it had happened so soon.
The second letter was far more troubling. Ron had cancelled on her, practically at the last minute. At least back in sixth year he'd had the decency to give her almost an entire month to find another date; now she only had a matter of hours.
She ought to be furious at him. She certainly wanted to be. But how could she begrudge him for wanting to stay home with his mother when she'd spent two months in Australia with her own? It was actually painful to hear that Mrs. Weasley had been having a rough go of it; she'd looked so much better at the Quidditch match last month, certainly better than Hermione had seen her since Bill and Fleur's wedding, and she wondered what could have caused her to relapse.
So instead she tried to look on the bright side. She and Ron had been writing one-another since the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. True, Ron's letters were usually on the short side for her liking, and they kept to casual topics and light jokes and chitchat about the shop and lessons and whether Fleur was going to have a boy or girl, but at least they'd been talking. And she would be going to a Ball with Ron, something she'd wanted since she was fifteen.
She just had to get through tonight first, and then nearly two weeks with her parents, before it happened.
"Is that what you're wearing?" Ginny asked Hermione, doing a terrible job of hiding her disappointment.
Hermione considered her friend for a moment. Things were practically back to normal between the two girls. All it had taken was a little time…and Hermione's many offers to help with Ginny's Transfiguration essays. She glanced down at her clothes, not seeing what was wrong with them. "What?"
Ginny signed. "Hermione, did you ever think the reason it took my brother so long to notice you were a girl might've been the fact that you hid your best bits beneath your hair and baggy robes?"
"Ron noticed," Hermione huffed. "He just…he just didn't notice that he'd noticed." Ginny scrunched her face up, doing a very good impression of Ron when he was trying to parcel sense out of something confusing. They really were an awful lot alike. "Anyway, Ron's not coming."
"But, you told me you'd asked him after my match."
"I did."
"And you said he'd agreed."
"He had."
"So?"
"So something's come up and he won't be making it."
Ginny looked at her incredulously. "And you're okay with that? You're not going to send him a curse that'll make his bollocks shrivel up?"
"Ginny!" Hermione protested. "Honestly, your mouth is filthier than Ron's. And yes, I'm alright with your brother not coming. He gave me his reasons and I completely understand."
"So you don't like Ron's mouth?" Ginny teased.
"Wha-what?" Hermione stammered.
"Or does that mean you do like his mouth? Or maybe—"
"Ginny! Please."
"What? We used to talk about stuff like this."
"Not really."
"Well, no, I guess we didn't," conceded Ginny frowning, before her face brightened. "But we can start now."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we've got an hour before Harry's getting here, and I thought we could talk."
"About?" Hermione asked apprehensively, already not liking where the conversation was heading.
"Well…" suddenly Ginny was no longer the confident, headstrong woman Hermione admired and often envied for her looks and confidence; she was back to being the thirteen year-old girl that had confessed to her at the Burrow how jealous she was that she, Hermione, had taken not only her brother, but the boy she fancied all for herself. She was the girl who had accused her of lying when Rita's article came out saying she and Harry were a couple, crying all the while. She was the same girl that had come to her, confused, when she'd discovered Harry wasn't the only boy in the world, wondering what she should do. "…I think…I think I know what I'm getting Harry for Christmas." Hermione said nothing. She didn't understand why this was an issue, but remained silent. If only she could exhibit this kind of patience with Ron. "I think…I think I'm going to sleep with him."
Hermione was a bit surprised, not at the fact that Ginny wanted to sleep with Harry, but because they apparently hadn't already. She'd known the two of them hadn't done much physically when they'd first gotten together since Ginny had wanted to be absolutely sure it wasn't just Harry's hormones that'd led to their post-match snog back in sixth year, but surely they'd had plenty of chances since then. They'd been at the Burrow all those months until Ginny left for Hogwarts, and while Hermione guessed they hadn't jumped right into things after she'd left for Australia, she would've thought they'd progressed to that point by now. "Alright," Hermione said, somehow managing to remain patient and wait to see how she fit in.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione, I know you and Ron shagged."
"What! What gave you that idea?"
"You did kick Harry out of his room the night before you left. You don't have to be, well, you to put two-and-two together."
Hermione felt a warmth spread out from her middle as she remembered how that night had started, replaced quickly by a bucket of ice being dumped on her as she remembered how it had ended. That day was the cause of all her current problems and confusions and just because there were a few good bits mixed in, it didn't mean she enjoyed reliving the memory. "Ginny I know that's how it looked, but we didn't…we didn't."
"Oh come off it. I'm the one who brought it up. I know he's my brother, but you can—"
"Ginny, we didn't!" Hermione insisted.
"Really?" Hermione nodded and Ginny frowned. "Well why not? Didn't you want to?"
"No! I mean y-yes," Hermione squeaked. "I…of course I did."
"Well then why not?"
Why not indeed. Hermione had pondered this very question a hundred times that night after Ron had stopped things from going too far and a thousand times since. "Ron didn't want to. He thought…he thought that we'd…that I'd regret it."
Ginny's eyes widened in understanding. "Is that why you stayed in Australia so long? Because you thought he didn't-Hermione, you're off your rocker."
"Excuse me?"
"Please don't tell me you stayed away because you thought Ron didn't want to shag you."
Hermione bit her lip. "Not exactly," she said, though a part of her had thought that; a part of her still did in fact. On the other hand, he certainly hadn't minded getting off with her every other way imaginable. "Ginny I really don't want to talk about this. I mean if you want…advice or something, for Harry…"
"Right," said Ginny, seeming to sense how uncomfortable Hermione was. "Forget it." Hermione nodded and picked up her Arithmancy text, but noticed Ginny was still eyeing her warily.
"What?" Hermione exclaimed.
"I just don't understand why you and Ron make everything so hard. You fancy him, you know he fancies you. So what's stopping you? He's angry you left for so long, right? Well maybe if you remind him of how he left you and Harry last year, he'll shut up and realize at least you had a good reason; you had your parents to think about."
"He told you that he left?" Hermione said, astonished. Ron had refused to talk to her about his reasons for leaving, or tell her the truth about the locket, but had talked to Ginny? It was then she remembered finding the remains of the Horcrux in his room among his other valuables. With everything else going on she'd almost forgotten her curiosity over why he still had the thing after they gave it to Professor McGonagall.
"Not a lot," Ginny said, shrugging. "But it sounded like he was a total wanker."
"You don't understand. He had his reasons," Hermione said, struggling to control her anger at Ginny. Not that she understood Ron's reasons completely either, but Ginny hadn't been there when he left, hadn't listened to him apologize for leaving in the first place.
"But so did you, right? For staying away so long I mean. Look, all I'm saying is if you could forgive him for leaving, he can do the same for you. You just need to make sure he knows you're sorry. It's that simple."
Hermione agreed and Ginny let the matter drop. She returned to her Arithmancy book until Ginny finished getting ready and both went to meet Harry before heading to Slughorn's party.
As it turned out, Ron's absence and Hermione's lack of a date wasn't the end of the world she feared it would be. Professor Slughorn spent half the evening dragging her off to meet one of his protégés after another and she ended up talking to everyone from the owner of a chain of apothecaries to a vampire hunter to the owner of the Daily Prophet—the last being a rather short and very awkward conversation. She even had the chance to speak to Walter Portsmith, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures after Professor Slughorn introduced them.
"Set them free, Miss Granger?" the mustachioed wizard chortled after Hermione had said her piece. "Oh, to be young and still have your ideals. What I would give to be doe eyed and eager all over again, eh Sluggy?" he said, turning to the Potions master.
"Indeed Walter. Indeed. Though age does have its benefits," said Slughorn.
"Right you are," said Portsmith, still chuckling. "Like a house elf to pick up after you and plenty of insulation for the winter," he said, patting his expansive gut, before turning back to Hermione. "Ideals are fine things to have, but you might find the real world does a good job of grinding them out of you faster than you can say golden snidget. But if you're truly interested in joining the department, have Old Sluggy here set something up. I'd love to have you aboard."
Hermione held her tongue and nodded her assent, before quickly excused herself. She'd wanted to remind the man that she'd just lived through a war, fighting on the front lines and if that hadn't killed her spirit and convictions, she doubted the bureaucracy of the Ministry would be able to. But it didn't really matter what he thought. Portsmith had seemed much more interested in having an Order of Merlin recipient working in his department than in any of her actual thoughts or ideas.
As she spotted Harry and Ginny and made her way toward them, she thought about how strange it would be to work at the Ministry. After Fudge and Scrimgeour she'd been certain she would never trust the wizarding government ever again, let alone work for it. But Kingsley seemed to be doing his best to change things, and he probably needed help doing so in areas outside the Auror Office.
The best part of the night was of course catching up with Harry, who seemed to be doing a much better job of avoiding Slughorn than herself. Seeing as Ginny stuck close to him—a few times a little too close, even for Hermione—all night, she never got the chance to ask Harry how Mrs. Weasley was doing, and Harry for his part didn't comment on Ron's absence. But he did tease her about signing her up for a Stealth and Tracking course so she could avoid Slughorn as well as he seemed to be doing. Hermione also got to congratulate him for completing his training and hear how he'd spent his first few weeks as a Junior Auror.
And Ginny too was in an exceptionally good mood as Gwenog Jones had made an appearance and the two of them plus Harry chatted about Quidditch nonstop for over an hour. But as Hermione zoned out after the first twenty minutes, she thought back over the conversation she'd had with Ginny. She knew things weren't as simple as Ginny made them sound. It wasn't as easy as apologizing for leaving, for staying away so long, for never writing. Of course she was sorry for all of that, and needed to apologize for it. But it was everything else that was causing her uncertainty. The problem was she didn't know if it was better to rekindle a relationship with a lie or risk ruining the chance at one with the truth.
27 December, 1998
Hermione left Hogwarts by Floo early the next day and used the International Floo Network for the first time to arrive back in Australia. She'd been terrified, of going to stay with her parents for the first part of the holidays, worried over the state she might find them in. In fact she was probably even more worried about them than she was of working things out with Ron; after all, nearly all their problems stemmed from the fact that she'd decided her parents had needed her more than he did and had chosen accordingly.
Thankfully, both her Mum and Dad seemed just as happy as they'd been when she'd left them four months earlier. They'd managed to buy a piano in the interim and many a night was spent with the three of them taking turns playing their favorite Christmas songs while the others sang. And surprisingly, they'd both received invitations to the Order of Merlin ceremony as well and Hermione was especially pleased that she would have the chance to share at least one piece of her life as witch with them.
All in all, she considered it the best Christmas holidays ever; there was no half-cat Polyjuice fiasco, no confiscated Firebolt, no snake attack, no Yule Ball, and no Lavender Brown. And even if things were still a bit uncertain with Ron, she at least knew he was most likely at the Burrow, enjoying time with his family and she would be seeing him in a few days instead of wondering if she might die before ever getting the chance to speak to him again. She was a bit disappointed in his present though: a WWW Self-Writing Quill. It was quite practical and fairly expensive, but she didn't care about that. Sixteen year-old Hermione would've been quite pleased with a 'practical' gift from Ron, but her nineteen year-old self wanted sweet, even romantic—something like his gesture for S.P.E.W. or that gastly perfume. But she told herself she was only being critical because she was nervous about where they stood and because she'd put so much time and effort into his gift.
There was however Nathan. Her parents had never mentioned him in any of their letters they sent to her over the last term but she'd only been home two days before her mum mentioned how he'd asked about her several times since she'd gone back to England. Hermione had responded politely, but tried to seem uninterested and the matter had been dropped. Of course, her mother had quickly moved on to asking her about Ron instead. And seeing as Hermione changed this subject just as quickly every time it was brought up, she shouldn't have been surprised when he showed up at her parents' house two days after Christmas.
Her dad was busy in the kitchen and asked her to get the door. She opened it to find Nathan standing there looking very tan and very pleased to see her.
"Hi," he said.
"Nathan," Hermione gasped. "What are you doing at my…aunt's house?"
"Well at the moment I'm standing on the porch talking to you and wondering if you're going to invite me in or not," he said, grinning.
Unsettled, she moved to let him in. Her mum appeared seemingly out of nowhere as if by magic and insisted he stay for supper and Hermione scolded herself for avoiding the topic of Nathan with her mum instead of making it clear that she did NOT under any circumstance want to see him.
The meal was very polite and very awkward. He asked how she was enjoying Cambridge (apparently her parents had told him that's where she went to Uni) and she'd had to make up a great spiel about her classes and professors. Luckily she'd been rereading several Muggle novels over the holiday as a reprieve from schoolwork and had managed to rant on about Charles Dickens and Oscar Wilde long enough that she saw Nathan's eyes glaze over slightly and figured he had bought their cover story.
After supper, her parents retired to the drawing room for tea and to listen to some records while Nathan asked for her to accompany him on a walk around the block. She really didn't want to talk to him, but it seemed she didn't have much choice. They walked along in silence for almost ten minutes before one of them spoke.
"So you left."
It wasn't a question, but Hermione nodded. "Are you all finished up?" she asked.
"Yup. Graduated and got my diploma and everything," he said, grinning, though he didn't sound very enthusiastic.
"That's wonderful, Nathan. What…what are your plans now?"
"Not sure. Maybe do some traveling, find a University where I can teach a class once a week and spend the rest of my time researching." He paused for a second. "I hear the libraries in England are pretty well-stocked."
Hermione tensed a little. "Yes, I suppose they are."
Nathan came to a stop and she copied him. They turned and faced each other. "Hermione, I still like you."
"Nathan, don't…"
"Did you leave because of me? Because I…"
"No, it wasn't you."
"…I'm really sorry. I mean that night…I never meant…"
"Really, Nathan, it's fine."
"…I'm not making excuses. I wanted to, just not…"
"Please, just stop!" Hermione was in tears. The last thing she wanted to do was think about that night and what they had done. Everything with Nathan had been one mistake after another. "It has nothing to do with…with…all that. I knew things weren't right before then; I just…I couldn't ignore it anymore after that."
They were both silent for a moment. "There's someone else, isn't there? That…that Ron fellow?" Nathan was frowning. She'd only seen him frown once before: when she'd broken up with him. It didn't suit him in the slightest.
"Yes," she said, sniffling. "Yes it's him."
"You love him."
She nodded. Oh God did she love Ron.
"And he loves you?"
Now that was a question she was still uncertain of the answer. "I…I don't…I'm not sure. I thought…but now…"
She saw Nathan twitch as if he'd started to reach out to comfort her but thought better of it. She was glad. She didn't want him to touch her, not anymore, not ever if she was completely honest. There was only one person she wanted touching her like that, and Nathan's smile didn't hold a candle to his.
1 January, 1999
The hall where the ceremony was held was quite extravagant, though in Hermione's biased opinion it didn't quite compare to Hogwarts at Christmas. She sat in between Ron and Harry in the front row with Ginny on Harry's right and Neville, who was also being honored, seated next to her with Luna on his right. The Weasleys, her parents, Neville's Grandmother, various Order members and important Ministry officials filled out the rows behind them.
After a Ministry speaker opened the ceremony and talked at length about Merlin and the origins of the award, it was Kingsleys turn to speak. He cast Sonorous on himself.
"My friends, my fellow witches and wizards, we have spent years fighting, fighting a war that finally ended a scant eight months ago after decades of conflict. Many of us here tonight did our part in that fight, and many more are not here because they gave their lives in the service of peace. But one man, more than any other is the reason we are here, safe and happy. It is my great honor to award him with the Order of Merlin First Class and an even greater honor to call him my friend." Kingsley paused and extended his hand toward the front row. "Mr. Harry James Potter."
Harry rose and walked, rather stiffly toward Kingsley and she heard Ron snigger before she elbowed him to shut him up. She watched as Harry faced Kingsley and bowed his head as the older wizard slipped a large medal around her friend's neck. The entire hall erupted into applause and Hermione clapped along while Ron and Ginny whistled, causing Harry to blush at all the fuss. She couldn't believe Harry was willingly going through with this; it was so unlike him.
After the applause died down, she saw Harry take out his own wand and point it at his throat.
"Thank you. Uh," and this time Hermione couldn't help but giggle along with Ron at Harry's clear discomfort. "I just, I wanted to say that what I did, I only did because of the help of so many people. I wouldn't be here today, wouldn't have even had the chance to fight Riddle if it weren't for those people. My parents, they would've…" Harry choked on his words and Hermione felt herself tearing up. "But it wasn't because I was The Chosen One, or any of that nonsense you've read about," Harry continued after regaining his composure. "Albus Dumbledore once told me that all the nonsense about the Prophesy didn't really matter. I was able to beat Riddle because he singled me out as a threat, because he picked me to mark," Harry said, touching his scar instinctively. "Which just goes to show that we create our own destinies, our own futures. And just to prove it, we have Neville Longbottom." Hermione could feel her own eyes turn to Neville along with Harry's and everyone else around them. "I don't think he ever knew it, but it could've been Neville with this scar, could've been him who had to end things. It just turned out that Riddle picked me instead. But in the end it didn't matter. Neville fought just like I did. He destroyed a piece of Riddle just as I did when he killed the snake. He didn't even know about the prophecy or how close he and I came to exchanging places, but we both wound up on the same path. Which is why I'm honored to present him with the Order of Merlin Second Class."
Neville stood and strode up to Harry with the same confidence he'd demonstrated as he had when facing Riddle single-handed during the battle. Harry placed the medal around his neck as he bowed and Neville took his place next to Kingsley, grinning broadly as the hall once more erupted into applause.
When Harry spoke again, it seemed as though he was looking directly into Hermione's eyes. "Now, there have been loads of people who helped me. But there are two who have always been there for me. I would be dead a hundred times over if it weren't for them and if I had to, I'd cut this thing in three and split it with them," he said, lifting his medal. "But, Kingsley tells me we've got plenty so I guess that's not necessary," he joked. Suddenly she felt something grip her hand tightly and looked down to see Ron's large hand encasing her own and she squeezed back, awash with gratitude.
"I owe them everything. They were my first friends, my first family. I watched them willingly sacrifice everything again and again. I love them."
Hermione felt herself being pulled along as Ron rose from his seat at Harry's words and they both hurried toward their friend. They approached him hand-in-hand and she saw Harry glance down at their entwined fingers. "This looks a bit familiar, doesn't it?" Harry said, grinning as he tried to whisper, though the spell amplified his voice anyway.
"Oh just get on with it, Harry," scolded Hermione, though she was now crying and her words lacked any hint of anger. She and Ron bowed their heads, but when she felt nothing slide over her head and around her neck, she peaked up and saw Harry too was bowing.
"Alright, enough of that, you cheeky git," said Ron, looking a bit misty-eyed himself. He gave Harry a playful shove and grabbed the two medals. He turned toward Hermione and slipped one around her neck. She could feel her face burning as his fingers brushed through her hair, sliding across her bare shoulders as he smoothed out the band.
She stood up straight and he offered her the other medal. "Wanna do the honors?" he asked. Hermione grinned, and took it from him and slid it over his head as he stooped down. She didn't care if their behavior right now was juvenile or inappropriate for the occasion.
"You know I was suppose to do that," Harry said to them as the hall was filled with cheers, his voice now back to normal volume.
"Yeah, but you were acting like a total prat. Worse than Percy even," said Ron.
"And you got to do Neville," said Hermione, chiming in. "It's only fair."
"And I figured since you love us and owe us everything…" teased Ron.
"Alright, alright," said Harry, hushing them as the three of them finally came to stand next to Neville and Kingsley once more took center stage.
"These four young witches and wizards have done so much for us, but they are not the only ones," said Kingsley's booming voice. "Some in fact, have been unfairly mistreated and maligned for years. And as Minister, I believe it is my duty to both you and them to inform you of the truth."
"Sirius Black, a man this Ministry once condemned as a traitor and a murderer, spent twelve years in Azkaban, two years on the run and another in hiding because our government lacked the will to find the truth. We were so eager to point the finger that we put an innocent man behind bars, condemned him to a fate worse than death, a fate he barely escaped only to lose his life two years later in defense of the same people who punished him for a crime he never committed. He was never a Death Eater; he spent his life fighting Riddle and gave his life to protect his godson Harry. He deserves to be known as a hero."
"The other is Severus Snape. Unlike Sirius, Severus once was a Death Eater, and many of us believed him to be the murderer of Albus Dumbledore, myself included. But Harry Potter has given the Ministry proof that Severus Snape dedicated the last sixteen years of his life to the man we thought he had killed, and to the defense of peace. Dumbledore ordered him to kill him not only to earn Riddle's trust and to help put himself into a position to protect the children attending Hogwarts, but to spare a young man the pain of killing someone. And in the end, he died, alone and friendless for his troubles. In death, he too deserves to be called a hero.
"Both these men are hereby exonerated of all their accused crimes now and forever." The entire hall was silent, processing everything that had suddenly been thrown at them. Hermione looked to Harry, and hoped that this gesture toward Sirius gave him some small measure of comfort.
"But Sirius Black and Severus Snape are only two of the men who gave their lives in this war, a war that began in earnest on the twenty-fourth of June four years ago with the death of a young man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Amos Diggory, would you please join me."
Hermione watched as Cedric's father walked up to Kingsley and saw the Minister clasp the weary-looking man on the shoulder. "This year, in addition to the Order of Merlin, we are instituting a new decoration for all those who gave their lives in the war: the Cedric Diggory Sacrificial Star, named in honor of the first victim of the Last War. Would the friends and family of those who earned these Stars please come and accept them in their absence as I call their names?"
Kingsley then began reciting the list of names, clearly memorized as he did not read from any parchment. Hermione recognized many—either having known them personally or heard or read about them. She saw Andromeda Tonks holding little Teddy come up and accept two for her husband and daughter from Mr. Diggory. She saw Susan Bones come up with her parents to accept one for her aunt. Harry came forth and claimed Sirius's and, after a moment's hesitation, Snape's as well. Professor Sprout came forth to accept one for Charity Burbage and Kingsley accepted Moody's. Aberforth was there to accept on-behalf of Professor Dumbledore, his face missing any possible remaining bitterness toward his brother. And she held her breath and clutched her chest as she watched George Weasley rise alone out of the Weasleys and come and accept one for Fred. He was crying, something he hadn't even done at his twin's funeral, and she saw Ron move forward twice to comfort George, restraining himself both times. She took his hand and felt his fingers clench around hers tightly, squeezing until she feared he might break it. But she didn't try to move away or inform him of her discomfort. The pain was nothing compared to what he must be feeling for both George and Fred at that moment.
Many Stars had no-one to claim them, when entire families—such as the Crouches—had been wiped out completely. But as Ron continued to squeeze her hand, and Kingsley recited name after name, she became more and more aware of two names that were conspicuously absent.
Finally Kingsley finished and began his closing speech but Hermione didn't listen. Not once had she heard the names of Remus Lupin or Dobby said aloud. A quick scan of the crowd informed her of something she should've noticed right from the beginning; there were no non-humans present. No centaurs, no goblins, no elves. The closest anyone came was Hagrid and Fleur. Surely it wasn't Kingsley's decision to exclude them? He had known Remus, fought alongside him again and again, been members of the Order together.
As the crowd stood to applaud one last time she followed Harry—pulling Ron along behind her—as they made their way out of the hall so it could be transformed into a ballroom, she felt the happiness she'd first felt which had long since turned to sadness change once again to anger, at the fact that Remus and Dobby still weren't seen fit to be respected despite their sacrifices simply because they weren't human. It's not right, she thought. They'd suffered their entire lives—Dobby abused at the hands of the Malfoys, Remus ostracized by the wizarding community for an affliction outside of his own control—and were still treated unfairly in death. Dobby had died to save them, to save her. And Remus had taught her so much, had been her friend, had been willing to leave his son to go with the three of them to protect them.
In that moment, Hermione made a promise to herself that she would see that one day, the world would know their names, and honor their sacrifices.
Hermione was out of sorts. As if she wasn't bothered enough by the complete lack of recognition for Remus and Dobby, she was completely befuddled by Ron's actions. One moment he was acting sweet and the next he seemed indifferent. They'd danced once—exactly once—to open the ball before he'd passed her off to Harry so he could dance with Ginny. When they'd made their entrance into the hall together after the ceremony and started to dance, she'd been thinking This is it. This was how it was supposed to be four years ago. She might've been on the arm of a Champion at the Yule Ball, but tonight she was on the arm of a real hero—her hero. And she was there as a hero in her own right, on equal footing with Ron.
But then the dance had started and she'd been suddenly nervous. Yes they'd each kissed one-another on the cheek and she'd snuck a quick kiss that day in Diagon Alley, but those encounters had been brief. Now they were supposed to be pressed together, holding each other in their arms. And though Ron's arms were exactly the place she wanted to be, she didn't want to push Ron too fast. So she let him lead. Unfortunately he didn't pull her close like he had at his brother's wedding, but kept an inch between them. It was such a small distance, but to Hermione it felt like she was all the way back in Australia. It had taken all her efforts not to cry and let him know how much it hurt her to keep that gulf between them.
And then he'd shoved her onto Harry. Dancing with him had been fine, though he was obviously too concerned with not looking like a fool in front of everyone to relax and enjoy himself—not that she was one to talk about staying relaxed. And though she'd enjoyed watching Ron dance with Ginny in their own tribute to Fred, she couldn't help but feel bitter over how easy things between them were. She finally understood how Ron could've been jealous of her and Harry's relationship.
She'd thought when the dance ended they'd change partners again and she could try to get closer to Ron, do something to make him let his guard down a bit. She'd seen how he'd looked at her when they first met, how his eyes had popped at her dress. But he'd disappeared and when Ginny had come to collect Harry she'd told her Ron had just run to the loo.
That had been an hour ago. Since then, she'd been sitting alone at a table, drowning herself in flutes of champagne, though she was careful not to overdo it again. As she sat, clicking her tongue at ever couple that danced by, drumming her fingers on the table in between drinks, she grew more and more angry at Ron. It was one thing that he'd abandoned Padma at the Yule Ball; they hadn't even been friends and Ron was really just a clueless boy back then. But to do this to me!
She'd actually been approached by three young wizards offering to dance with her, but she'd turned them all down. A part of her felt it would only serve Ron right if she did dance with someone else. But the bigger part, the part of her that ached whenever she remembered she still needed to explain to him about Nathan, didn't want to do anything to further risk her relationship with Ron.
Finally, when she was beginning to think the best thing to do would be to find her parents and leave, she caught sight of Ron standing in the entrance to the hall talking to Luna. Her anger and frustration at him were immediately forgotten and she stood up, planning to go over to him and demand that he dance with her, even if she had to threaten to curse him. But in the time it took her to smooth out her dress Ron had apparently decided he'd rather dance with Luna and the two of them were waltzing about the dance floor.
Hermione felt the hot prick of tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She could've sworn he'd looked right at her for just a moment, seen that she had been waiting here alone for him all night. She didn't care if Ron wanted to dance with Luna; she wasn't that irrationally jealous. But it seemed clear that Ron didn't want to dance with her. So why had he asked her to go with him in the first place? Because it was expected? Because he felt sorry for her? Because he wanted to make up for cancelling on her for Slughorn's party?
"Excuse me?" a voice broke through her pitying thoughts. She turned and for the first time noticed a tall, blond fellow who looked to be a few years older than her. Hermione got the impression that he'd been standing there trying to talk to her for some time, but Ron's presence had distracted her.
"Yes?" she asked, feeling relieved that her voice sounded even and didn't betray her inner turmoil.
"I was wondering if I might ask you to dance."
She didn't know if it was the chance to get back at Ron or the champagne finally having an effect on her, but Hermione felt a soothing wave of tranquility slide over her as the young man extended his hand out toward her. "I'd like that," she told him, and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.
"I'm surprised you said yes," the man told her as they spun about the floor. "I mean you are Hermione Granger after all."
He didn't say it in a manner than was meant to flatter her; he actually seemed genuinely pleased and surprised that she'd accepted his offer. She looked at him. He would've been quite handsome but his pallid skin and dark eyes and slightly-sunken features gave him a somewhat sickly look, like he hadn't eaten or slept in weeks. "I know you, don't I?" Hermione asked.
He smiled briefly, revealing a very small mouth. "I was wondering if you'd remember me. Robert Quinn. I served on the Wizengamot during the trials for you and your friends."
"No, that's not it," she shook her head adamantly. "I mean yes, but you were at Hogwarts with us weren't you?"
"I was. I was in my seventh year when you were in your fourth I believe, the year of the Tournament."
"You were Head Boy that year, weren't you? After Percy Weasley; he's my frie—Ron's brother."
"Yes I know Percy. I was a prefect with him for two years and he and Kingsley work closely with the Wizengamot now. Good sort of fellow isn't he?"
Hermione nodded. "I suppose I have you to thank for the gaudy hunk of metal hanging around my neck, don't I?"
"I actually had nothing to do with that. And I get the feeling you wouldn't really be thanking me if I did, would you?"
No, she wouldn't. If Kingsley hadn't been the one to snub Dobby and Remus, it had to have been other high ranking members of the Ministry, like members of the Wizengamot. "Let's just say I don't find the Ministry's policy of excluding non-humans and half-breeds to be something I like associating myself with."
Quinn was about to respond when Hermione saw Ron come up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.
"Why don't you go get something to drink fellah?" he told Quinn. He looked absolutely furious, his clear eyes burning into her as he kept his gaze locked on her while he spoke. "The lady and I need to talk."
Obviously sensing that he didn't want to be in the middle of whatever was about to happen, Quinn excused himself and left the dance floor without a second look back at them.
The moment Quinn was gone and she turned back to Ron, Hermione felt her pain and anger returning. She didn't understand what right Ron had to be angry with her, not when he'd been the one to abandon her all night and chosen to dance with Luna Lovegood when he'd known she'd been sitting there waiting for him. She opened her mouth to launch into a verbal assault when Ron pulled her against him, shattering that last inch of separation between them.
He was holding her to him, his fingers digging into the small of her back. Ron leaned forward as they danced until their cheeks were pressed together and she shut her eyes. "What're you trying to pull?" he growled into her ear. She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. His mouth was so close she could practically imagine his teeth closing down on her earlobe, nipping at her the way she longed for and she felt herself shudder in pleasure.
"What?" she whispered, barely comprehending what he'd said, leaning further into him until the entire lengths of their bodies were pressed together. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. Or is that his, she wondered; she couldn't tell.
"Were you trying to make me jealous?" Ron growled again, the rough stubble on his cheek sliding over her smoothness until his nose was pressed against her hair and she was sure she heard him inhale, breathing in her scent the way she was breathing in his.
"Did it work?" she gasped. Ron had spun them around quickly and the shift in their bodies had allowed her to feel just how hard a certain part of Ron's anatomy was at the moment as it dug into her stomach.
"Yes," Ron moaned. At the sound of his voice Hermione couldn't help but slide her hands down to his hips, pressing them against her, needing to feel him against her. She was aware that they weren't really dancing in-time with music any longer, merely swaying a bit on the spot, but she didn't care. She felt Ron pull back from her and she finally opened her eyes to look at him. She reached out a hand to cup his face but he caught it, surprising her, and pulled her off the dance floor.
...
Ron led her by the arm and pulled her into a room off the entrance hall, turning to close the door behind them. She looked around and noticed it was the same room they'd waited in earlier as strangers came up to congratulate them on their awards and thank them for what they'd done while the main hall was changed into a dance floor. It was a library of some sort, and was quite dark with the only light coming through the tall windows.
She walked over to a bookcase and turned around to face Ron. She'd been so close to kissing him out there, so sure that's what he'd wanted as well. But now she could see the anger was still there in his face.
"What were you doing with him?" Ron barked, taking a few paces forward until she was less than an arm's length from him.
"I-I…" she stammered. She was so confused when she looked at Ron, losing not only all sense of herself, but of him as well. It was like they were different people, capable of anything. And for one moment, as he took one more step toward her in the dark and shadows, she thought if this were any other man looking at her like that, she would've guessed he'd be prepared to hit her.
But this wasn't any other man; this was Ron, and a moment later she saw his anger fade, his eyes changing to look at her with tender concern. "Why are you crying?" Ron asked her, his voice soft and sweet.
She raised a hand to her cheek and felt the dampness there. She hadn't even been aware of it until Ron pointed it out. "You…" she said, her voice cracking. It was all she managed before he stepped forward and touched her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
"There she is," Ron whispered. She looked at him, about to ask what that meant when his lips came down on hers, starving yet gentle, his fingers sliding down to dig into her hips. And she was kissing him back. Before she even knew why, before she knew what was happening, she was kissing him like her life depended on it, her hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she was pushed back into the bookshelves.
Hermione let out a squeak against his mouth as the wood dug painfully into her back and Ron pulled back a bit. Inwardly she cursed herself for letting a little pain spoil the moment. She opened her eyes and found Ron's staring back at her. Her gaze flicked down to his mouth, already red and swollen from their snog and then back to his eyes. Down, then back again. She bit her lip and her chin lifted, twitching to bring them closer together. And she saw Ron's last bit of resistance fall and he leaned in. And she shut her eyes as her hand went to the back of his head, running through his hair the way she'd so dearly missed, pushing their lips more tightly together. She felt one of his hands sliding up her body to cup her breast through her gown while the other squeezed her bottom, his fingers sliding into the crease as they dug into her plump flesh.
"No bra," Ron hummed against her, panting for air.
"The straps would've shown," she explained, surprised that her brain was still working. She didn't want to talk. She wanted…well she didn't know exactly what she wanted, but she knew she wanted more of it as she sealed her mouth around his once more, her tongue sliding across his and tongue, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his teeth bit down on her and sucked.
As they kissed, her small hands did their best to undo his robes, fumbling with the buttons. She needed to feel his skin again, trace the lines of his chest, touch the muscles in his shoulders, cling to the expanse of his back as they rocked together in ecstasy.
Ron's hand slid down from her arse to take hold of her behind her right knee, hefting her leg up till her foot settled on the edge of a shelf before sliding back up to cup her through her knickers. She was soaked, had been from the moment he'd pressed them together on the dance floor. Hermione rocked her hips, desperate to relieve the ache between her thighs, pressing herself into the hilt of his palm.
"Oh Ron," she gasped, thrusting against his hand as he pushed back. Her fingers gave up on his top and slid to his waist, undoing his belt and zip before delving inside to feel him. He was so smooth, so hot in her hands as she began to stroke his length.
"Want you," he mumbled, his lips warm and wet on her throat as he began thrusting into her hand. "Merlin I want you so much."
"Yes. Oh yes," she gasped as his hand slid the strap off her left shoulder and his fingers slid over her bare back, pulling her dress down with them, exposing her breast. His mouth descended on her nipple, already hard from the cold and arousal. And then his fingers shoved her knickers aside and plunged into the heat of her pussy and her left foot was lifted clear off the floor, her weight supported by the shelves behind her and Ron's two hands: one under her arse, the other buried in her fanny.
Their moves were erratic, each thrust of his fingers into her core had them both nearly toppling over and she reached one hand up above their heads to grab onto the bookcase for support, her knuckles turning white with the effort to keep balanced.
He had three fingers pumping into her, stretching her and shaping her to him, and her hand quickened over his silky length, desperate to give him the same pleasure he was giving her as she moaned and gasped over and over.
"Fuck," Ron groaned, as her hand tightened around his cock and his teeth bit down on her nipple, tugging on it with his mouth.
It was all too much: his tongue sliding over her breast, nibbling on her creamy flesh; his right hand kneading her bum; his left thrusting into her wet folds. She felt her back arch involuntarily. "I'm…I'm…" and then she was clenching down on his fingers, trapping them inside her as her body was wracked in tremors, and she continued to thrust gently against his hand, hearing the squelch of her fluids where they joined while her fingers worked furiously over him until he followed her in release.
She felt her body lower as Ron finally withdrew his fingers and he pulled her face to his in a searing kiss, one she barely returned as she continued to pant after her climax. She rested her forehead against his, continuing to languidly stroke his cock, pumping him slowly as he softened beneath her touch.
Hermione tried to open her eyes to look at him, to gaze at his beauty, to see him the way only she was allowed, her and no-one, but her eyelids were heavy from exhaustion and they fluttered in the darkness. She nuzzled her nose against his, as he peppered her cheek with tiny kisses. She was so warm; they both were. This was how it was meant be; how she always wanted to feel with Ron. And in her utter contentment she allowed three words to escape her lips and caress his face.
"I love you," she whispered, at long last.
A/N: The chapter's title comes from the song "Heroes" by David Bowie off his album 'Heroes'.
If this chapter feels like it's missing some parts or seems like I've skipped over bits, well…I have. Chapter 15 actually covers the exact same time frame only from Ron's point of view and should fill in the gaps from his perspective. And since I left you guys on something of a cliffie, I'll do my best to get chapters 14 and 15 to you as soon as possible.
Now, did that ending make up for some of the icky-ness in the last chapter? I know I liked it (btw, I used the library scene in the film Atonement for inspiration, in case anyone finds it familiar). And I know Balls are totally overused in Ron/Hermione stories, but I really do feel it's appropriate and even necessary. They may've missed out on the chance to make up for Slughorn's party in sixth year, but I always thought of the Yule Ball as the true turning point in their relationship and more in-need of rectifying. In fact, I think of this ball as the true turning point in my fic as well.
And finally, for those who don't remember, Tiberius Ogden was a member of the Wizengamot who resigned after Fudge appointed Umbridge High Inquisitor. I wanted someone from canon to head up the Wizengamot and figured he might be willing to return now that Kingsley's making an effort change things.