Chapter Twenty-One

April: 1999

"As of now, I officially hate Professor Flitwick," Ginny growled as she ferociously dotted a period into her essay. "That took about three hours!"

"At least we're done now," Hermione said soothingly. "We can go back to our dorms... go to bed... sleep for hours and hours and hours until we have to wake up, eat, and do absolutely nothing."

"Remind me again why we were working on this essay tonight? It's a Friday!"

"It's due on Monday- if we hadn't done it tonight we would have had to do it over the weekend."

"Oh, that's right," Ginny sighed. "Thanks, Hermione. I can't remember who I studied with before you came along."

Hermione laughed.

"Aw, you flatter me."

"I know I do, now let's get out of this library and go to bed."

The two girls gathered their books and hastily left the dark library, Hermione only slightly reluctantly tonight. They headed through the darkened corridors with a sense of purpose, trying to get out of them quickly. Neither could deny the fact that being at Hogwarts was harder this year, and not just academically. Everywhere they went were reminders of the war and what it had done to their world. Hermione didn't like looking around because whenever she did she'd see flashes of the final battle on the back of her eyelids, playing like a movie. Instead, as she moved through the school, she'd find other things to focus on. Distractions, really. Tonight she chose to think about Ron. Usually on weekends he was her wakeup call. She'd be lying in bed, wrapped up in the covers, and suddenly she'd hear his voice calling her name through floo powder, attempting to wake her up. Usually she responded to this, but once or twice Ron told her she hadn't woken up. He attributed this to lack of sleep. Hermione attributed it to the fact that she had been dreaming about him and hadn't been able to discern what was in her sleep and what was in the real world.

Upon reaching the Head Girls' dormitory, Hermione bade Ginny goodnight and began climbing the stairs. Anthony Goldstein, the Head Boy, was climbing the stairs to his own dorm, and Hermione waved to him as she headed up to her own section. The Head Girl and Head Boy shared a sitting room, but each had their own very small bathroom and both had their own fireplaces connected to the floo network. This had made her separation from Ron so much easier, and Hermione was infinitely grateful. Still, Hogwarts simply wasn't the same without him and Harry, and Hermione often found herself pining for the days where they would sneak through the corridors under the invisibility cloak or tease her about being too smart. Now the students were just in awe of her, which Hermione found both ridiculous and obnoxious. She had a feeling that if Ron were here he'd actually be enjoying the treatment, but then reminded herself that he was getting much of the same thing at his work in Diagon Alley.

Yawning hugely, Hermione put her hand on the doorknob to her room and entered. It was dark except for the roaring fire that a House Elf must have made. And in the center of the roaring fire was someone's head. Hermione let out a little scream and threw her books into the air in surprise, one hand searching for her wand and the other one resting on her frantically beating heart.

"Alright, I'm not that ugly," said the person in the fire, and Hermione's heart slowed slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Ron?" she questioned, moving closer.

"Who else would it be?" he asked rhetorically.

Hermione moved closer, and as she did so she was able to make out the outline of his face.

"Oh, hi," she breathed, sinking down onto the floor in front of him. "I just wasn't expecting you, that's all."

Ron looked sheepish.

"I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning, so I decided to speed up the process a little bit."

"I'm glad," Hermione said honestly. It was a long time since they'd last seen each other. As exams got closer, the Hogsmeade visits became fewer.

"So how have you been?" Ron inquired.

"Okay," Hermione told him. "Everyone's going into freak out mode over here- it's worse than O.W.L year. A little unnerving, as a matter of fact, but oh well."

"And you aren't in freak out mode?" Ron asked pointedly.

"No," Hermione said, puffing up proudly. "I've drawn a study schedule that has never failed me in the past, and I doubt it will fail me now."

"Aaaand you've already got about fifty job offers from the Ministry of Magic that will stand no matter what happens on your N.E. ," Ron teased.

"That's true," Hermione laughed. "Except, honestly, I don't think I'll be choosing to take any of those jobs if I don't do well enough on my N.E. . It would be completely unfair, wouldn't it?"

"You're barmy," Ron said admiringly.

"I know," Hermione chuckled. "That's why you love me."

"This is true."

"So how's everything at the shop? Still having trouble with the feather necklaces that turn people into birds?"

"Nope," Ron said proudly. "We got those fixed up the day after I talked to you, actually. Turns out the soothing charm on the necklace did make the boils go away. We put them on the market today."

"I'm glad I could help," Hermione said happily.

"Oh, by the way," Ron said, looking serious now, "if anybody offers you chocolates in the near future, don't take them."

"Uh... why?"

"George is insisting on this new adult product called Randy Candy. Seems to be the only thing that's keeping him happy of late, actually... not that we've eaten any or anything. But just the idea makes him snort with laughter."

"What does it do?" Hermione asked, not altogether sure she wanted to know.

Ron told her anyways.

"So just don't take any chocolate from anyone, because I'm not there to help you with that, so..."

Hermione laughed.

"I could always ask Professor Slughorn."

Ron looked completely aghast.

"Um- EW!"

Hermione burst into laughter, rolling around on the floor in the hilarity of the situation.

"I mean to brew an antidote, you idiot," she wheezed, clutching her side.

"Thank god," Ron breathed. "I don't think I ever would have been able to look at you the same way again..."

"You've got a very sick mind, darling," Hermione told him seriously.

"It's not like I made up the Randy Candies!" Ron protested. "Although it was my idea that for each one you'd have to do a different thing to-"

"Gottcha," Hermione said, effectively shutting him up. They stared at each other for a second, then burst into laughter again. "You know what's strange?"

"The fact that Harry always forgets that the bottom step of the second landing at the Burrow creaks and wakes mum up whenever he sneaks downstairs at midnight for a bite of treacle tart?"

"No..."

"The fact that you're in the same grade as Ginny?"

"No..."

"The fact that Harry sometimes moans Ginny's name in his sleep and one time I pretended to yell at him for saying Cho's name?"

"No."

"The fact that Charlie got something burned in Romania that really shouldn't have gotten burned?"

"NO!" Hermione shouted, laughing again.

"What then?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned for a moment, then said,

"Er- I honestly can't remember anymore."

Ron snorted.

"My work here is done."

They sat there staring at each other for a couple of seconds before Hermione shook her head.

"I miss you far too much."

Ron sighed.

"I know. Me too. It seems such a waste that we never get to see each other when it wouldn't be that hard for me to get to you."

Hermione frowned, seemingly musing.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Meet me at the Whomping Willow in fifty minutes."

The expressions that flitted across Ron's face were a series of comical looks. Shock, amusement, appreciation, and disbelief were just a few of the over dramatic contortions.

"You're... you're kidding," he said when he was able to talk.

"Want to make a bet?"

"You're willing to break a school rule to see me?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're amazing," he replied fervently.

"I know. Only because you tell me, though."

"Okay, I... I should go! Do you want me to bring anything?"

"The knickers you stole from me last Hogsmeade visit?"

Ron looked pained.

"Do I have to give those back?"

Hermione sighed.

"No, fine. Just the tent, then."

"Brilliant. See you!" She stood up and brushed off her knees. Just as she found her hand hitting the light, Ron's voice made her turn around. "Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes?" she said curiously.

He looked a little nervous, and had to swallow a few times before he spoke again.

"Could... do you think you could... I was wondering if you might wear your school uniform?"

Hermione smirked.

"Really, Ron?"

"Not the outer robe!" he said hastily. "Just the skirt..."

"Oh dear god!" Hermione giggled.

"Hey! That's the stuff fantasies are made of, and this is my last chance to fulfill it. That and you sneaking up on me in the Gryffindor Quidditch changing rooms while I'm showering."

"Let's leave it at the uniform for now," Hermione suggested.

Ron gazed at her lovingly.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Numerous times, and yet it never gets old. Love you, too, see you in a bit."

She flicked off the light and hurried down the stairs, out through the Heads' portrait hole. Silently, Hermione tiptoed along the corridors, her mind completely consumed with not getting caught. She took all the secret passageways she knew, ducked behind many tapestries to avoid Professors, and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the front doors. They were still slightly ajar, even though the sky was inky black outside of the castle. Hermione pumped her fist quietly in celebration.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see Professor McGonagall coming towards her, looking rather stern.

"Oh, Professor!" Hermione said, panic taking over everything else.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Er... I was just coming to close the doors."

"Strange. I thought that was my job tonight?"

"I was... um... trying to cut you a break. You work so hard, Professor McGonagall."

"Hm," McGonagall said, surveying Hermione closely. "And how is Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger?"

"Excellent," Hermione said without thinking.

"I see."

"I... I'll just be going, then," said Hermione as her heart sunk. She turned around to go.

"Oh Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see McGonagall looking at her with the stern expression slightly softened.

"Yes?"

"What will you be doing this weekend?"

"Er-"

"I expect you'll be up in your dorm studying the whole time, yes?"

"Er... yes," Hermione said, still unsure as to where this is going, but albeit having an inkling.

"So if I don't see you until Sunday at dinner, I shouldn't be worried, right?"

Hermione coughed loudly.

"N-no!"

"Good," McGonagall said loudly. She turned around and started walking away, then called over her shoulder: "Oh, and if you happen to talk to Mr. Weasley, do tell him I say hello, will you?"

"Of course," Hermione replied. "Professor, thanks," she said before she could stop herself.

"Whatever for?" McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrows.

"For... for letting me study."

McGonagall didn't say anything else, but in the years to come Hermione would swear she saw her mentor wink as she turned the corner. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione slipped out the doors and into the night. Almost immediately, she lit her wand, watching as the beams traced the path down to the tree. Even from a distance she could see a familiar red head there, and her heart sped up merely at the sight. Without thinking about it, Hermione broke into a run until she was right in front of Ron. She hadn't seen his actual face in such a long time, and now seeing him made her knees weak. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and allow her to just sit there and smell him for hours. Ron shot her a large grin as she got closer, and she saw him reach forward and press his hand on the knot. The tree stopped having a temper tantrum and Hermione was able to creep forward and rush through the branches to get to her boyfriend. Upon reaching him, she tackled him into an embrace and began snogging him with everything she was worth, unable to help making little whimpering noises in the back of her throat.

"Bloody hell," Ron said as he pulled back. "You really missed me!"

His voice sounded as though he'd just trekked across a desert. Hermione smiled and reached a hand up to trace the line of his nose, then his lips, then smooth back his hair. He sighed loudly.

"Where's the tent?" she whispered into his ear.

"I set it up in a forest across from the residential district in Hogsmeade."

"Perfect," she said, and then she closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her again.

"Mmm, alright, let's go," Ron said, pulling away.

He took her hand and together they walked through the passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack. Neither of them much fancied going this way, as it only served to remind them of Snape's death. But, to be honest, both of them would do basically anything to be with the other. And Hermione and Ron weren't going to let the ghosts of their pasts inhibit them from living. No, they hadn't moved on from the war yet. Not even close. But if they let everything bad about their lives affect their future, they knew they would never make it. So both Ron and Hermione gritted their teeth and moved about life as though nothing bad had ever happened. Still, they moved through the tunnel in complete silence, and were rather relived upon reaching the end. They quickly stepped out of the Shrieking Shack and Ron led Hermione off towards the tent. It was set up in the woods, hidden by a large thatch of trees. Hermione smiled at it- it felt like home- and hurried inside, where she collapsed onto the armchair.

"This is a great spot, Ron," she told him.

"Thanks," he replied proudly.

Hermione looked fondly around the tent.

"Is it strange that this tent feels more like my home than any place ever has?"

Ron gave her a small smile.

"It's funny, I feel the exact same way about it."

"It's our escape as much as anything, isn't it?" Hermione mused.

"Probably. It's also... ours. Our couple place. I mean, nobody has ever been here with us. It's just ours, you know?"

"Yes, exactly," Hermione said delightedly. She hesitated, then said, "What happens after I leave Hogwarts, Ron?"

He looked rather befuddled.

"You... you get a job?"

"No, I mean-" (Hermione turned red) "With us. Forgive me for bringing this up, but... are we going to live together?

Or are we just going to-"

"Sure," Ron said easily. "We can get a flat together if you want."

He didn't tell her that this was what he'd been planning all along. That was why he had been living at the Burrow since the war. He had been saving his money to purchase a flat with Hermione.

"Really?" Hermione breathed. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, of course," Ron said, unnerved by how surprised she seemed. "You want to, right?"

"Yes!" Hermione practically shouted. "Oh, but there's so much to think about! How big do we want it to be? Where do we want it? And then that, I guess, will all depend on price limits... I mean, we want a nice place, but I haven't worked yet, and we have to think about saving money for other things like- weddings and children -stuff. But, of course, I don't mind getting an ugly flat, it really doesn't matter to me, it's our first one. It doesn't have to be beautiful or big or anything. And, oh, then we have to think about-" She suddenly noticed that Ron's face had taken on a heartbroken look that twisted Hermione's heart. "Ron, what is it?"

He looked up, unable to rearrange his facial expression.

"Er- nothing."

"Ron," Hermione said gently. "It is something. Just spit it out."

There was a pause during which Ron struggled with his words.

"I want to make this good for you," he choked out suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, and when Ron looked up at her it was with eyes completely open. Every emotion he was feeling was lying out for her to view- sadness, anger, unworthiness, self doubt, frustration and desperation.

"Everybody in my family has had to make due with second best for all their lives. Bill and Fleur never got a honeymoon. Mum and dad eloped. George and Fred had to work their business up from the ground. We all had hand-me-down clothes and hand-me-down brooms and there was never enough for anyone. I don't want you to have to go through that with me! I mean, I know you're going to do so well for yourself, and you'll be able to provide for yourself easily, but... but I want to be able to provide for you too, you know? It's a man's job, and don't think I'm being sexist, Hermione, because I'm not. Well, maybe a little. I just feel like I have to be worth something to deserve you, and I don't want anything with us to be second best. I want us to have the wedding you've always dreamed of, and an exotic, romantic honeymoon, and if our children want clothes and brooms, by God I want to give them new ones! I want you to be able to be a stay at home mum if you want to, and if you don't want to I want to be able to afford to get a nanny... I just don't want us doing what my parents did. I want- I need- everything with you to be perfect, Hermione, because if it isn't I just... ugh!"

She stared at him with her mouth hanging open for about ten minutes, watching the wetness forming in his eyes, the

heaving of his chest, and the vulnerability on his face. For a second she had to cover her face in her hands to compose herself, to get the tears away from her eyes.

"Oh, Ron," she murmured, "Oh my God, Ron."

"That all sounded ridiculous, didn't it?"

"No, no it didn't!" Hermione promised hastily. "Ron it was... it was... oh my God," she said again.

"Just forget-"

"No," Hermione said sharply. "Ron, I will not forget you said that, because everything you said was" (she had to do it one more time) "oh my God!"

"Does that mean something different to you?" Ron snapped.

She stood up and hugged him in response, then gently lifted her lips to his mouth. Finally, she settled herself in his lap for the good, long talk they needed to have.

"Ron, it doesn't matter. There's nothing wrong with hand-me-downs. I mean, look at... Draco Malfoy. He's got everything in the world, but his relationship with his parents is less than satisfactory. They give him things as compensation for the lack of time he gets to spend with them, and he's a horrible, horrible person because of it. And then look at you. Yes, you grew up with second-hand things, but you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, so much better than Malfoy. And your relationship with your parents is so fantastic... you're close to everyone in your family. If I have a child, I want his or her relationship to be like the one you have with your father, not the one Malfoy has with his father. And, besides, who do you think is going to be a happier person, Ron? You or Malfoy?"

"Me," Ron said, "because I got you and he didn't. But that doesn't change the fact that I haven't got anything to give you."

"Do you really think that matters to me?" Hermione demanded. "I honestly couldn't care less... I just want you, Ron, because I'm in love with you and I love who you are and what you mean to me. I know you think it's your job to earn good money, but to tell you the truth, I disagree. I think part of being with someone is sharing responsibilities. I want you to do whatever makes you happy, and I'll do what makes me happy, and we aren't going to care about the money, because job satisfaction is probably more important than that."

"Seriously?" Ron said after taking a second to digest this. "That's really how you feel?"

"That's really how I feel, Ron. For richer or poorer. For better or worse."

He looked like he was going to faint, which was how Hermione felt, too. Never had they ever been so open with each other about commitment and what they wanted the future to hold. It was just that, with Hermione about to graduate, it seemed that everything was going full speed ahead, and it was hard to ignore it.

"Thank god," he whispered, kissing her.

"Ron?" Hermione said, pulling back.

"Yeah?"

"You... you really want to marry me? And have children with me?"

He looked at her like she was crazy.

"I would have thought that was obvious when I had sex with you."

Hermione's frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I suppose my parents brought me up with old-fashioned values, didn't they? Could be a pureblood thing, but... when you sleep with someone, it's because you intend to spend the rest of your life with her, isn't it?"

"S-s-so you knew, even all the way back then, that you wanted to marry me?"

Ron shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Bloody hell," Hermione said out loud for the first time in her life. "Bloody hell!"

"That's a good 'bloody hell', right?"

"Uh-huh," Hermione said, staring at him with shock still written all over her face. "Oh my God! You want to marry me! And have kids with me! Oh my God... I really didn't see this coming!"

"How did you not see this coming?"

"I don't know, I suppose I underestimated you. I figured you'd be one of those people who hated talking about this stuff, considering it took us about seven years to get together."

"Life's too short," Ron told her seriously. "If there's one thing this war's taught me, that's it."

"So how many kids do you want to have? Are we going to find out whether it's a boy or a girl before he or she is born, or will we wait? What do you want to name them? Do you think they should go to muggle school before going to Hogwarts? Will our family vacations be with Harry and Ginny, or just by ourselves? Should we have a dog or a cat? What will we name it? What are your opinions on child discipline?"

Now Ron was starting to look a little alarmed.

"Er- Hermione- I know I said I was okay with talking about commitment, but I am still a bloke."

"Sorry," Hermione said, dialing back.

"It's okay," Ron laughed. He gazed at her lovingly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. "I will tell you one thing, though, before we go completely off the subject."

"What?"

"Never in my life have I been so completely excited for the future."