"Good morning, dear," his mum said as soon as Ron had crossed the threshold to the kitchen. "Would you like some breakfast?"
Ron smiled from ear to ear, this time not because of the impending blessing of a full stomach, but because his mum had felt well enough to get up early and fix the meal for the family. "I'd love that, thanks, Mum," he replied and, after looking around, he asked, "where's today's Prophet? I want to check the ad I requested for today".
"Take a seat," she said. "Your dad has it. He'll come downstairs soon; you can read it then."
As if summoned, his dad came into the kitchen. "Hi, Ron? I think you should see this," he said cryptically, a concerned look on his face.
"What? Did they get the ad wrong?" Ron asked, confused, reaching for the newspaper his dad was handing to him.
"I didn't check the ad, but that's not what I meant," he explained, pointing to a short article in the Social section.
Ron began reading with trepidation.
H. Granger and R. Weasley Visit St. Mungo's
The pair, who were seen holding hands, visited a Healer yesterday morning for private reasons. Ms. Granger, having been abroad in foreign lands until recently, is said to be suffering from an unknown health condition. A source confirms that proper treatments are underway. It is suspected that Mr. Weasley accompanied her to offer his support in these trying times.
"Wha... Who..." Ron blurted, too confused by his own angered reaction to find the proper words.
"First of all, is Hermione all right, son?" his dad asked, reaching for the newspaper and giving it to Molly, who then read the few lines that were being discussed.
"Yes, she is!" Ron exclaimed. "She's... dealing with some stuff. Like we all are," he automatically defended her, although it was clear that his parents were more concerned than judgemental.
"Can we help her in any way?" His mum asked, giving the newspaper back to Ron.
"No need, Mum," he replied, running his hand through his hair. "She's going to be fine. This... trash is just trying to make news out of nothing!"
George came into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" He asked, concerned at Ron's words.
"This." Ron shoved the newspaper for George to read. "It's nothing, but they're making it sound like it's a big deal. I can't believe that every damn time I open this bloody excuse for a newspaper, I end up raging because of a stupid news article!"
"Well," George began in a calm voice, handing the newspaper back to Ron, again. "At least it implied you two are together, if that helps."
"Why would it?"
"Because it means now everyone knows she's your girlfriend. Should keep a big number of vultures out of your hands."
"Great," Ron said, "so now my relationship with Hermione is going to be public, as well?"
"Try to ignore it, son," Arthur said, a hand patting Ron's shoulder. "Kingsley said this would happen. Better not show them you care, and it'll hopefully calm down in the future."
Ron scoffed. He shook his head, upset. He wondered if maybe he should go to St. Mungo's and confront the nurses, to try to find out who had leaked the information.
"Don't do anything rash, Ron," his mum said, as if reading his mind, while setting a few plates on the table with a swish of her wand. "Listen to your dad. Ignore it."
"All right, I'll try," he promised, taking a seat next to George. "I just hope Hermione doesn't see it before I'm there to deal with it. She's not going to be happy."
"So when are the interviews starting for the job?" George asked as they Flooed in to the flat above the shop. Ron had decided to follow him instead of Apparating, once George explained he didn't think he had the energy to do it and refusing to Side-along Apparate.
"Well, I paid for ads to be run for three consecutive days," he explained as he swatted some ashes off his shoulder. "If we get any answers today, maybe we can interview them starting on Friday?"
"Sounds good," George said. "We're just hiring one person to help for now, right?"
"Yeah. I thought once they're well trained, we can think of adding someone else if we need it. That way this person could act as a supervisor when we get too busy to pay attention to the training," Ron argued.
"Good thinking," he praised again, and Ron couldn't help but think it was strange to hear him giving compliments instead of just teasing you. "So do you have any idea when you might start training to become an Auror?"
"I asked Kingsley to let me know when each of the training groups begin. He said the last one will probably start in September, so that's the group I'm thinking to join." They went down the stairs to the main floor. Ron shrugged. "I think that'll give us enough time to get the business into a good routine that we can maintain despite everything."
"Yeah, about that," George said, serious, as they reached the office. Ron stopped in his tracks and turned to have a good look at George, concerned. George rolled his eyes. "Relax and listen. I'm actually hoping that what I'm about to say will lead to something good. Let's sit."
Ron did, still worried. "Are you sure it's not bad? It's scary to see you serious like this, you know?"
"Sorry for not being my usual self yet, then," he said, sarcastically, "but I don't have to be the clown for anybody just to make them feel better with thinking I'm better."
Ron lifted his hands defensively. "I never meant that, calm down. Let's... just go back to what you wanted to discuss, before we end up fighting and regretting it."
George scoffed. "Why did you have to mature? I used to enjoy making you angry."
"Ugh, no. I want you feeling better, but no, thanks. Instead, just talk. Quit stalling."
They sat across each other, one on each side of Ron's desk. The looked at each other for a few moments, silently challenging the other.
"Fine, I'll talk," George finally conceded. "The thing is... uhm, have you noticed how I've been mostly handling the payments lately?"
"Yeah?"
"Seeing all the products and what people prefer and everything, well, it has made me get a few ideas for new products, is all."
"But that's great! Why would you want to piss me off before telling me that?" he asked, genuinely curious, and glad to hear the news.
"Because I didn't want you too happy and getting your hopes too high," he argued.
"It's not like I'm pushing you," Ron said, offended, but adding no heat to his words.
"That's true and, although I thank you for that, maybe you should."
Ron was perplexed. "I'm sorry?"
George sighed. "Look, I'm only saying this because you caught me that day up there in the flat, and because I realise you're keeping track of me, as infuriating as it is."
"I'm only doing it because I care. I thought you knew, but if you don't, then it's about time you got that into your skull."
"I know, I know. But it's not only infuriating because it makes me feel like I need babysitting, but because I think I'm forced to agree that I maybe need it."
Ron felt dread and bile rise in his stomach, knowing before any further words were exchanged were this was going. George wouldn't be circling the issue if it wasn't major, and it being George immediately brought to mind some of the things only Ron knew about. Why else would he be talking to him about it, and hesitating so much all at the same time? No, Ron's gut had to be right. An involuntary chill went down his spine.
"I wouldn't even mention this, but I thought a lot about it last night, and where I would have talked to Fred about this, I evidently can't now. You found me that day and I ended up telling you things I haven't told anyone else yet. That puts you in the position of being the only one I can possibly talk to about what's going on, as much as I hate it and as much as I want to avoid it. And now I want firewhisky to help me get through this."
"I'd rather you don't go down that route, George. No firewhisky to make things easier," he suggested in a low, still-scared voice.
"Aaaanyway," George said, elongating the word, "don't distract me."
"I'm not trying to distract you!"
"Shhh! Just let me..."
Ron closed his eyes, trying to gather the little control he had. He needed to hear what George had to say, even if it took some time, even if waiting was heightening his fear. He needed to let George say the words, so that Ron had something to grasp and use in his answer.
It took George a moment to gather his thoughts, but he finally did.
"Like I said, I don't want to talk about this. I'm only doing it because I realise I need it and because I promised dad that I would reach out for help if I thought I needed it. That I would force myself to do it. So I'm forcing myself."
Ron wanted to ask, to tell him he was afraid, but didn't. He had understood that interrupting George right now would just make him avoid what he needed to say. After a moment, George looked back into the shop to make sure they were still alone, to then reach for his wand to charm the door closed.
George sighed. "I don't want to take too long, because I know the girls are coming soon and I don't want them overhearing this. I know Ginny is naturally nosy and Hermione's your girlfriend, but don't tell them what I'm about to say, all right?"
"I promise," he said without a doubt. He knew it would be difficult to not tell anything to Hermione, but he had to be true to his brother in this.
"I've been... having these thoughts... along the lines of not wanting to be here anymore. Remember what we talked about that day in the flat? How I didn't have the energy to be alive anymore?"
Ron's hairs stood on end, just as terrified of those words as he had been the first time. He didn't reply.
"It appears that now I do have a bit more of energy, but not the will. It's... fucking infuriating, it's what it is, and scary. Coming to the shop has been helpful; with time I'm starting to find it easier to have a normal day, even if I still get exhausted suddenly or wanting to sleep half the day. But with that new energy, my mind is getting more active and with that a lot of... intruding… concerning thoughts... have appeared." George shook his head, trying to clear it up of the dark cloud that Ron couldn't see, but could clearly sense was surrounding his mind. "It's like... it's like having now more energy to be active is giving me the energy to imagine how I would like to disappear."
"George..." Ron began, frightened, but George lifted a hand to stop him.
"Don't worry, little brother. You don't know it, but that night after we returned to the Burrow, I thought about all we had talked about here in the flat. I kept coming back to your question, what is keeping me here? And after much consideration; after thinking of all the reasons why I should stay here even if I don't want to, I promised myself that I would do my best to keep myself alive. Between all the things you said and the promise dad clawed out of me, well... that's why I'm here, talking to you."
At a loss, Ron couldn't think of saying anything but, "How can I help?"
Ron knew he had said the right thing when George nodded twice, still serious. "How long do you think until we can afford to pay ourselves a salary?"
Ron, who had not expected that question at all, took a moment to think of the answer. "Uhhh... well, we've been open for less than a month. I haven't looked at the numbers quite that way. But I did look at them carefully yesterday, to see if we could afford hiring someone."
"And?"
"We already surpassed this month's goal," Ron explained, "but that goal didn't include a salary for anybody."
"All right," George said, drumming his fingers in consideration on Ron's desk, "then here's what I'd like to do..."
Ron had a lot to think about. Although he had managed to work through his task list for the day, he had been distracted, trying to digest his conversation with George.
It had been terrifying to know George was still thinking of dying. Ron had seen him doing better and had thought that, although still depressed and grieving, he had overcome those thoughts. To know he had been so mistaken despite having been trying to pay attention horrified him and ashamed him.
At least, George had said that he was actively trying to not do it. That was good. But the plan he had come up with to achieve it was... unexpected, at best.
Merlin, he wanted to talk to Hermione about it. The part that he was allowed to discuss with her, anyway.
They had said hi that morning in a rush, for his sudden meeting with George had taken a long time; time he had thought he would use for something else. So when Hermione had come in that morning, Ron had kissed her quickly and asked her out for lunch. She had barely told him yes before he had moved on to work.
And now, as lunch approached, he realised that it wasn't only George's plan that he had to think about. He should also take some time to think of Hermione's revelations from the night before and stop avoiding the issue.
Really, that's all he had done to date. Avoid it. He had avoided it again the night before, and he didn't like doing that. Yet he had done it, just like he had done ever since she had returned, and ever since they had gotten together. It had been a nagging little voice in the depths of his mind, being relentlessly pushed back any time it dared peek into Ron's awareness. But now he couldn't pretend he was blind to it anymore, not now that Hermione had put words to it.
Come September, chances were they would be apart. After more than a month of being separated after the war, he knew how difficult it would be to be away from her, especially now that they were together. Adding to the problem, was that the idea of them being apart and of him training to be an Auror was causing Hermione anxiety. What were they going to do? What was he to do?
"Ron? Are you ready?"
Hermione's arrival signaled that time had flown faster than he thought, and they were set to have lunch.
"Yes, give me a minute," he requested as he took a couple finishing notes before taking the break.
Hermione sat in front of him on the other side of the desk. "By the way, I totally forgot to tell you. The Healer's mother? She gave me an appointment for tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah, I meant to ask you- sorry, I've been all over the place," he said. "Look, can we buy something somewhere, to go? Do you mind if we go to your house? I need to talk to you."
"Oh God," Hermione said, her eyes open wide. "It's true what they say. Those words are scary. But yeah, sure, let's go..."
They came to Hermione's house with their take-away food and two butterbeers, and decided to settle outside on the deck. They sat side by side, eating in companionable silence for a while, their legs crossed and resting on the step below, very much like they had on the day they had first kissed. Or second-kissed, to be more specific. Ron must have been thinking about it, too, for he turned to her after drinking some butterbeer, giving her a bright smile. "I think this spot is always going to make me think of the time I finally had the bollocks to tell you I'm in love with you."
"Why, Ron," she replied, looking for a light-hearted comment; a joke that would keep the relaxed feeling they had kept since leaving the shop. "Had you been waiting for a long time or what?" She chuckled.
But when she looked at Ron and saw his serious face, she knew she had missed the mark.
"Well, yeah," Ron said. "I've known I'm in love with you for a while now, but I reckon I always fancied you, to a degree."
She saw him swallow, a clear sign that he was nervous and feeling vulnerable.
"Even during first year? If I recall correctly, you thought I was a nightmare," she said, finding it impossible not to question him, her voice exposing her true curiosity.
He half scoffed, half laughed. "I suppose not. I truly disliked you back then. All my fault, though. To my benefit, I'll say I quickly changed my mind and, by the way, have I told you that I love you?"
Hermione laughed. "All right, good. I guess I can forgive you for calling me a nightmare, then, seeing as you have so clearly changed your ways."
Ron leaned down and kissed her. "You've had to forgive me for a lot of things. I know I've cocked up plenty. I'm sorry."
She hadn't been expecting the obvious heartfelt apology. She lifted a hand to his face. "Hey, it's okay. I haven't been a saint, exactly, either. We've dealt with everything, haven't we? And we're still learning how to make this work. I'm sure there's going to be plenty to be forgiven in the future; we're far too strong-headed and stubborn to expect otherwise. Let's take everything else as practice for the future."
Ron laughed, leaving his sandwich to his side on top of its wrapper. He reached out for Hermione's, leaving it next to his own.
"What are you doing?"
"I need to snog you," he replied, surrounding her face with his hands and pointing it to his. "You're too brilliant to believe and I don't have the words to explain just how much that thrills me."
He kissed her again, his words still ringing in her ears. She dove into the moment with glee. She didn't know exactly what she had said to cause his reaction, but she was glad those words had come out of her mouth. Who would have thought that once Ron stopped fearing her reaction so much; that once he told her exactly what he was thinking about her, he would be so endearing? Wanting to repay him in kind, she refused to second guess herself or to wonder about how Ron would react to her being forward. Feeling happy and dizzy, she surrounded his neck with her arms, to then give in and pull him back with her to rest on the patio, the moment so delightful to her that she didn't mind the hardness of the wooden planks under her back.
Ron seemed to be happy with the new arrangement. He mumbled his appreciation against her lips, shifting around until he found a somewhat comfortable position. Now his legs were going down the steps, tangled with hers, and if the weird angle was uncomfortable to him, he didn't show it. He simply kept on kissing her, carrying the weight of his torso on his bent elbows, his hands still around her face.
The moment broke suddenly when he lifted his face with a chuckle. "I'm sorry," he said, "I just thought... How did I think it was a good idea to get an egg sandwich? I must taste horrid."
"Shut it," Hermione replied, reaching up to pull him down to kiss her again. "You have nothing to worry about. You actually taste like butterbeer."
He resisted her pull, maybe still self conscious about the way he tasted, shifting around so that his weight was supported on his right elbow alone. His left hand now free, he lifted it to her face. "You like my kiss, then?" The tip of his index finger touched her cheek, then softly touched her jaw and down her neck, resting on her clavicle. He looked slightly smug as his eyes followed the path of his finger.
She shivered. "Yes," she simply said, liking this new development.
His finger traveled slightly further, down the edge of her v-neck shirt. "How much?" He asked, still smug, and she understood it was that complacent, self-assured feeling that was fueling his advances... and his sudden dexterity. She needed to file that for future reference: as with Quidditch, confidence made him really good at what he did.
"Loads," she replied in an excitement-induced uncharacteristic manner.
He bent to kiss her neck as his fingers left the hem of her shirt. His hand now hovered down to her waist, the softest touch on the side of her breast as it did so, subtle enough that she wondered if he had done it on purpose, or had noticed at all. She herself couldn't focus on it for too long, or wondered about his intentions, because the warmth of his breath and the tickling of his lips on the soft skin below her ear made her quiver and forget everything else.
"Bloody hell, that's hot," he exclaimed at noticing her reaction, the warmth of his words promptly causing another ripple. "You like this?" he asked again, blatantly amazed this time, to then bend down again and breathe on her skin. She shuddered once more.
She chuckled despite being short of breath. "I'm guessing I do, by the looks of it," she conceded. "If only we weren't on the deck..." she added self-consciously, her eyes looking around her house's garden. She didn't think anyone could really see them, but it didn't change the fact that she thought they weren't at the point of getting frisky outside.
"Crap, yeah, I guess you're right." He lifted his head to look at her, and his sheepish looks made her curious. "Sorry, I got a bit lost after you told me you like my kisses. I just need, err... a minute, here, to... uhm, well, to calm down a little," he finished, pursing his lips into a thin line that barely bent up in the corners in a self-deprecating smile. "I guess you could, uhm, say that I... liked it, too. Your reaction, I mean. Anyway..."
Hermione giggled. "You liked it, huh?" She angled her head to reach for his neck, kissing his own soft skin. He groaned.
"Fuck," he said, and noticing the hitch in his breath filled her with the desire to gloat, to say, here, look, I can do this to you, too. "You're not helping my situation here."
"All right," she said as she pulled back, "I'll be good. Only because we're outside."
"Thank Merlin," he said, rolling back to rest on his own back. "Good thing that you remembered where we were, because I was quickly forgetting, myself."
Knowing that Ron had been affected by their short-lived explorations, Hermione couldn't help herself and tried to peek down to his groin as he laid on his back. She was curious and nervous at the prospect of what she might see, but couldn't notice anything from her angle on the patio. She let out the air that remained in her lungs.
"Good, fine," he said, sitting up after a moment and lifting his hands to somewhat tidy up his hair. Hermione sat up next to him. "Might as well just talk. I'm dying to tell you about my morning." He reached for their food and gave Hermione her sandwich.
"Yes, so what happened?" She asked. "When I got to the shop you were already in that meeting with George." She bit into her food.
Ron waited to finish swallowing his bite before answering. "We were discussing plans for the business. Turns out, Fred and George had a bit of money turned aside to invest in it. He explained to me that after the family went into hiding, when they studied the list of clients that had continued to order products by mail, they had a lot more customers than before, considering the context of war and all. Some of them were even new customers from other countries in Europe! So what he's thinking, is that we should invest that money into hiring a couple of extra hands, perhaps around three people, so that we train one of them to work with George in handling the shop's mail service, we train another to work the floor properly, and the third to fill in wherever is needed. Meanwhile, George is going to try to create new products, some of which are going to be sold exclusively by mail. You know, to encourage people to try the service. I'll be handling most of the rest, still with George's help, of course. That way, we hope we'll be ready to handle the surge of business we're hoping to generate, even once I start Auror training, and even when you and Ginny leave to Hogwarts."
Even though a part of Hermione wanted to ask him about that, about the conversation they had avoided the night before, she decided she should let him have the time he needed to think about it. So, instead she said, "That sounds like a very good strategy!"
"It does, but you never know with business. I don't want to grow too fast; I dunno if our current success is more than just the novelty of having Wheezes open again."
Hermione nodded her head from side to side, amazed at him. "Did you know you had such a good head for business, Ron?"
Ron laughed self-deprecatingly. "I don't think that's necessarily right. It was the tw- the twins area of expertise, really. All I did was listen to George, and use that for a strategy. It's still what I'm doing, to be honest."
"Don't, Ron," Hermione said warningly. "You're good, and I'm not going to let you bring yourself down anymore. You take the compliment you deserve, or else..."
"Or else?" Ron imitated her, and this time he laughed. "I don't know why it's such a big deal; I'm just being honest."
"Honest, but wrong," she insisted. "You've never realised quite how clever you are."
"If you say so," he said, shrugging dismissively, clearly just trying to appease her. "You're the genius, after all."
"If I am that, then trust me when I say you're smart, Ron."
He cocked his head to the side, with a soft smile. "All right, I'll take it."
"Good," she said, satisfied, and putting the remaining bit of her sandwich in her mouth. She glanced at Ron, who had finished his a few bites ago and was now drinking a bit more of his butterbeer. "Anyway," she said, "I'm so happy that George is feeling better."
"Well, about that, uhm," he began, taking a breath and clearing his throat. "He's... fine... but he thinks he needs to keep himself busy. That's why he's going to try to... uhm, to focus on the mail service and on creating new products if at all possible..."
It was clear that there was a lot that Ron wanted to say, and was trying to figure out how to say it. Hermione got nervous with anticipation for what he was going to tell her, and forced herself to not say anything and let Ron figure out the words he wanted to use.
"The thing is, he also thinks that it would be good for him to move into the flat above the shop. He thinks that it'll help him get his mind into business mode, like it was when he and Fred were living there. That way, if he wakes up in the middle of the night and feels like working, he can just go down to the shop instead of getting up and using the Floo to go there, in a house where everyone is still keeping tabs on him. He says that, that way, nobody would freak out if they wake up to not find him at home, and things like that."
"But they're keeping tabs on him for a reason," Hermione argued. "He shouldn't be living alone if he's not fully himself yet. He needs to have people to rely on when he's feeling down, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, and he knows that." He bit the inside of his lips. "That's why... that's why he's asked me to move in with him."
That was a shock. She didn't know what to make of it. When she finally got her mind back in order, she asked, "and what did you say?"
"I said we have to think about it, him and I," Ron said. "I reckon Mum is going to hate it, but George is serious about this. He says he really needs to get out of the house, that he can't handle being in the room he shared with Fred when they were little. He says that in the flat, because they didn't share a room and all, they had begun to have more independent lives, in a way, even if still joined at the hip and all that. He thinks that'll help him heal better. So he wants to use some of the savings for us to have a living wage and move into the apartment together."
"I guess that makes sense, but you're right, I don't think your mum is going to like that one bit."
"I know. But if that's what George needs, then we'll have to make it work and... if he moves to the flat... I think I should move in with him, too."
Hermione took a sip of her own butterbeer, trying to mull things over.
"I was thinking, too," Ron continued, "that, let's say we do move out and my mum handles it well enough, considering Ginny and Percy are still there. There's the matter of what Harry is going to do..."
"Harry," she said, knowing Ron was right, and thinking about their friend. "He's going to want to move out, too."
"Yeah, you know how he is. He's going to say that since I'm not there anymore he should leave The Burrow, as well. It won't matter that I tell him he can stay as long as he wants, or that everybody else tells him so, either."
"Maybe he'll stay, since Ginny is there..." Hermione suggested with no strength, knowing Harry like she did.
"Nah, you know he won't. He was already talking about moving out after the Battle, but Ginny and I argued him out of it."
"Where will he go, do you think?" Hermione asked, absentmindedly reaching out to hug his arm and rest her head on his shoulder. "Grimmauld Place?"
"I don't know. I reckon it's too big of a place for a single bloke, and so gloomy. It probably reminds him a lot of Sirius and those first weeks after we escaped the wedding. Then again, it's Harry, and it's the closest he has to a home, so I don't know."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Yes, we'll have to see."
Ron checked his watch and sighed. "We should get going."
"Yeah, we should," she said reaching for her wand and vanishing what was left of their lunch.
Ron got up and offered a hand to Hermione to help her stand up. She didn't expect him to use the movement to pull her in into a hug.
"We still have loads to talk about," he said into her hair.
"I agree," she said, resting her head on his chest.
"Why don't you come to The Burrow tonight after you're done talking to your parents? I'll save some food for you."
AN: Are you guys loving Romione HPShipweeks on Tumblr as much as I am? GOOD. Even if I can barely be on Tumblr anymore and I'm afraid I'm missing tons of wonderful romione content, I'm still loving it, all right?
I want to thank Otterandterrier, Jenahid, and Honouraryweasley12 for their constant help, cheering, support, trouble-solving skills, and general awesomeness. This story wouldn't be what it is without them!