Part two! Enjoy and review!
PART III
TALES OF ETERNAL FIGHTS
Chapter 36
A Tale of You and Me (I)
"Odd, wasn't it?" Harry asked, looking at the door as if he could still see Sbalkal there.
"Very odd," pointed Hermione.
"Hermione …" Harry started, but she interrupted him.
"Let's get out of here, OK?"
"Yeah."
"Hermione," said then Mrs Addler, and she turned round to look at her. "I need you to finish a few things so we can put an end to this nightmare, and then you can go home. You've earned some days off. All of you," she added, looking at Harry.
"You don't need to thank us."
"I do," she replied. "We all do, specially to Ronald, but, well, I suppose that's one of the reasons he's not here," she commented. "I need to talk to Arthur, see you later in Level Two."
Hermione exited the room with Harry, both quiet. None of them said a word until they were in one of the lifts.
"Don't think about what he said," Harry said suddenly. "It's a lie."
"What, that thing about him not being able to hate me?"
"No, about the possibility of you not being enough for Ron. You've always been enough for Ron, Hermione, and you know it."
"I was, Harry. I don't know anymore. You didn't see him last night, it's a bit like being with a stranger."
"Well, I was planning on going to your parents' with you, see him and talk to him. I want to ask him to come back to the Auror Office," he confessed as the lift stopped.
"I don't think he wants to be an Auror anymore," Hermione told him as they walked towards the entrance.
"But I need to ask him," Harry insisted, almost pleadingly. "After all those deaths, the Auror Office feels so strange, and I admit I feel a bit lonely. I miss him."
"Believe me, Harry, I'd be happy if he came back, it would mean some normalcy after all this craziness, but — don't let yourself hope too much."
Harry sighed and nodded. "OK. Come to my office when you leave. I'll send a message to Ginny and we'll meet at your parents'."
"See you later, then," she said, and they parted ways.
Two hours later, Hermione met Harry at the entrance of the Department. Mr Weasley was also there and when she approached them she heard them talking about the rebuilding of The Burrow.
"Things are going well," Mr Weasley was saying. "With all the help we've got I think the house will be as new tomorrow — what can be repaired, at least."
"Those are fantastic news. Sorry I couldn't help, Arthur, I wanted to, but —"
"Don't worry, Harry," Mr Weasley said dismissively, "you had loads of things to do here." He turned towards her and smiled. "Hi, Hermione. Ready?"
"Yes," she nodded, and smiled at him. "I'm so glad The Burrow will be all right so soon," she said.
"Me too, dear, me too."
From the Atrium, they Apparated into a secluded part of the Grangers' backyard and went in the house. Mrs Weasley and her parents were already there, and so was Ginny, who was sitting on the couch next to Ron with Albus in her arms. James was playing on the floor next to them. All of them were having tea.
"You're home," her mum said, grinning at them. "You must be tired. Want a cup of tea?"
"I'd love to," nodded Mr Weasley, smiling. Hermione wanted one, too, but Harry declined. He kissed Ginny and his sons and then looked at Ron.
"How are you?" Harry asked.
Ron shrugged, and Hermione thought he looked a bit distraught. "Fine, I think," he answered. "More steady," he added.
"Good," said Harry, examining him intently.
"How went the trial?" asked her dad.
"You'll be glad to know he'll spend the rest of his days in Azkaban," Harry responded, smiling at Ron. Ron, however, just gave a slight nod and lowered his head, focusing his gaze on the carpet. Harry's smile faltered. "Aren't you pleased?" he asked.
"Not specially," was Ron's answer, his eyes still fixed on the carpet. Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick look. As her mum gave Mr Weasley and her their cups of tea, Harry spoke again.
"'Not specially'?" he repeated, shocked. "You hate him!"
"Part of me hates him, yes," Ron said, finally looking up at Harry. "I mean, the things he did — Voldemort, the attacks, all those deaths … but for a brief time, Harry, he and me were one, and though I don't share his views, I understand him, why he felt the way he did … it's hard to hate someone when you understand them completely."
"But you stopped him!" Harry exclaimed, taken aback.
"Yeah, but not because I hated him, but because I had to."
Harry looked lost at words for a moment, but then countered again, saying, "he doesn't have a problem hating you, though, despite that connection you shared."
Ron shrugged. "Well, he's not me. And I am not the person I love most in the world, am I?" he said shrewdly, and Hermione was instantly reminded of Sbalkal telling her he couldn't hate her.
"Oh," said Harry, also understanding. He exchanged another look with Hermione.
"What?" Ginny asked, looking at them in turns.
"Sbalkal said, after the trial, that he couldn't hate me," Hermione explained. She looked at Ron. "It's because of what you just said?"
"Yeah, I think so," Ron said. "He saw you the way I see you. All of you," he clarified. "That's why he didn't kill you when he attacked The Burrow. He tried to, but in the end, he couldn't."
Harry just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Hermione took a long gulp of her tea. She couldn't help but remember the interrogation after having captured Sbalkal in February, the way Ron had reacted then. Seeing him now, so calm, so understanding towards his former enemy was a painful reminder of how things would never be the same.
"Well, he's locked up, isn't he?" interjected Mrs Weasley. "We don't need to talk about him again."
They fell silent, and for a while, the only sounds were of them sipping their tea. Hermione saw Harry fidgeting nervously on the armchair he was sitting on. Finally, unable to contain himself anymore, he looked at Ron and said, a little too casually, "Your cubicle in ready, for whenever you want to come back."
"What?" Ron asked, frowning at Harry. "My cubicle?"
"At the Auror Office," Harry clarified. "You can come back when you want."
"Who told you I was going to go back there?" Ron asked. He turned to look at Hermione, and she shook her head.
"No one," said Harry. "I just — I mean, you're no longer a Master of Essence, aren't you? You'll need a job, and, well, you've already got one. And frankly, with all the loses in this last year, you'll be more than welcome." Ron kept staring at him, without answering, and so, after a minute, Harry sighed and said what he really wanted to say, "I miss you there, Ron. The office is not the same without you."
Ron averted his gaze and said, "I'm not going back, Harry. I can't be an Auror anymore."
"Why?" Harry asked. "Why not? You were a good one!"
"Before," Ron said. There was that word again. Everything seemed to be divided between 'before' and 'now'.
"Your Magic will get better," Harry said, encouragingly. "You can practise at the Ministry; we can train together if you want."
"It's not that, Harry," Ron said.
"Then what is it?" Harry asked, almost yelling in frustration.
"I'm afraid, OK?" Ron blurted out, angry. "Happy?"
"Afraid?" repeated Harry, bewildered. "What do you mean?"
"I cannot heal myself, can I? And I cannot predict what's gonna happen, Dark wizards could hide, set up a trap, and I wouldn't know …"
"It was always that way, Ron!" Harry replied, not understanding.
"Yeah, but I hadn't had those powers, I didn't know what I was missing. But now I know, and I cannot forget it. I don't think I can be a good Auror now, and even if I wanted to go back, I couldn't, knowing I'd be putting people in danger."
Harry was staring at Ron, open-mouthed and speechless.
"But then — then what are you going to do, Ron?" his mother asked him. "You are planning to get a job, aren't you?"
"I don't know, OK?" he answered, his temper raising. "I don't know what I'm going to do, it's only been a day, give me a fucking break!"
Mrs Weasley shut her mouth, stunned by Ron's angry outburst.
"Ron, don't talk that way to your mother!" Mr Weasley scolded him.
Ron just snorted and leaned against the back of the couch, folding his arms, his head bent backwards and looking up at the lamp.
"Let's calm down, all right?" interjected Ginny in a conciliatory tone. "We've all been stressed. Ron is right, Mum, it's so soon, we need time to get accustomed to normalcy, all of us."
I wish time would be enough for that, thought Hermione.
"We should go home, Harry," Ginny continued, getting to her feet.
"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Hermione's mum asked them.
"Thank you, Mrs Granger, but I've got to feed these two, and they gave us quite a night, so I'm very tired. Harry?"
Harry seemed to get out of a daze, and stood up, nodding a bit absentmindedly. It was clear for Hermione that, despite her warning, he had really hoped Ron would come back to the Ministry, and his response had been a hard blow for him. "Yeah, we should go. Good — good evening to you all."
"See you tomorrow, Harry," said Hermione, smiling sympathetically at him. Maybe only she could understand how the idea of not working with Ron anymore affected him.
"I've resumed my paternity leave, so I won't go to the Ministry," he told her. "We'll go to The Burrow to help."
"It's not necessary, Harry," said Mrs Weasley. "You two take care of my grandchildren."
"We'll go anyway, to see how things are going," replied Harry. "Well, goodbye," he added, and, with their children on their arms, they walked out of the house and Disapparated from the backyard.
Hermione walked to the couch and sat down next to Ron, who looked very sad. She put a comforting hand on his thigh, and she saw his eyes moving to look at it.
"Ron, are you all right?"
"Yeah. Don't worry."
"You know me, Ron, I always worry. And you look — well, troubled."
"It's been a tough day, I won't deny it, but it was to be expected, wasn't it?" he said, looking up at her. "Time will make things better."
She looked at him questioningly, because he didn't look convinced. "Sure?"
"No, but I've got to hope, have I?" he replied, and she had to agree with him.
Later that night, as she got ready for bed, Hermione kept watching Ron, as she had done since she had come back. He had barely talked after Harry and Ginny had left.
"Ron, are you all right?" she asked him when she had put her nightdress on. Ron was sitting on the floor, next to Ron's cot, staring at her and playing with his wand.
He looked up at her. "Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?"
"You're too quiet," she answered, parting the blankets and getting under them.
Ron shrugged. "Nothing to say, I suppose."
"Did you practise magic, as you had planned?" she asked him.
"Yeah, a bit."
"And …?"
Another shrug. "It was OK."
Hermione slid down the bed, putting her head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling, feeling her frustration grow. Ron was not one to be quiet, that was never a good sign. A minute later, he got up and walked towards the bed, sitting on his side and leaning against the headboard. He let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
"You keep telling me you're all right, but I get a feeling that something is wrong," Hermione commented, propping herself on one elbow and looking at him.
He stared at her for a moment and then said, "Rhoda and Antoine came to see me today."
"What?" she asked, sitting up. "Those two wizards that lived with Anwar?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"In the afternoon, a bit after your parents went back to their practice."
"Are they all right, then?"
"Yeah," nodded Ron. "They were happy for the defeat of Sbalkal, but, at, the same time, sad that it meant the end of the Masters of Essence."
"How did they know you were here?" she asked after a minute of silence.
Ron didn't answer. And when Hermione was going to ask again, he moved his left hand, reached into the left pocket of his trousers and took out an object that looked like a coin.
"With this."
Hermione leaned towards him to examine it more closely. "What's that?"
"Something I gave them before I left that place to fight Sbalkal for the first time. By themselves they couldn't come back, and if I died, they would be doomed. This object allowed them to Apparate back to Earth. It is also a way to find me, if they ever needed me. And now is practically the only thing that proves I once was a Master of Essence," he added in a very sad tone. "You know, all the Masters left something here, usually something great, helped make great advances in science or Magic, trained other Masters, or even several of those things. But, in my case, the only thing I leave is a stupid coin with the ability to find me, because it can't even help anyone to get back to that haven …" He made a pause, and then, struck by a sudden idea, added, "Well, this and the Deluminator."
Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "The Deluminator? What do you mean?"
Ron turned his head and looked at her intensely. "During my last encounter with Dumbledore, we talked about the things he was going to give us and — well, I knew what I was gonna do, didn't I? Leave you and Harry. So I gave the Deluminator the power to lead me back to you when you said my name."
Hermine just stared at Ron, awed, unable to speak.
"So you see, twenty-four years as a Master of Essence and my only legacy are a coin that can help find me, and a Deluminator than can help find you."
"If it weren't for that Deluminator, Harry would have died that night," Hermione pointed. "You may not value it, Ron, but I do. It brought you back to me."
"Yeah, well …" he said sheepishly.
"And you defeated Sbalkal, Ron. The world is free thanks to you. Can you imagine a better legacy?"
He shrugged. "Anyway, those objects are useless now," he said, changing the subject, apparently keen in not accepting compliments for what he had done. "If at least you all had kept your invulnerability …"
"Yes, about that … I don't get it. I mean, the coin kept its power, why did we lost the protection you gave us?"
"I changed the Deluminator and the coin," Ron explained. "But I didn't really change your bodies. Well, I did, but I linked you to my power, so I could reinforce the protection as necessary. I know it's not a good explanation, it made more sense when I did it. Anyway," he continued, "the consequence was that, when I lost my power, you lost the protection. Well, to say the truth, you didn't lose it, but as I no longer have the power that sustains it, it's completely useless."
"Makes sense," she said.
They fell silent once more. Hermione lay down and put her head on the pillow. They kept quiet for a few minutes, until Hermione spoke once more.
"Ron, your parents will move back to The Burrow tomorrow if everything goes as planned, and, though I don't mind being here, I'm too old to be living at my parents'. What — what do you want to do? Have you thought about that?"
"Yeah, a bit," he said, fidgeting with the blankets. "I suppose we should go home."
Hermione sat up again, a bit surprised.
"Really? You — you want to come home with me?"
Ron turned his head to look at her. "Yes. It's our house, isn't it? Did you think I wanted to live here for the rest of my life?"
"No, of course not, but — I thought that you might go back to The Burrow, or — don't know, somewhere else," she said shrugging. "I mean, I don't even know if we're together or not."
"I think I'm too old to live with my parents, too," he said. "And regarding our situation …" he made a short pause. "Well, it's complicated, isn't it? I love you, Hermione. I know it and you know it. But it's too soon. To tell you the truth, I don't think there are words to define what we are. But, in any case, that's our house and we've got a daughter. In a way, I missed the first two months of her life, and I don't want to miss a single day more. And I'd never take her away from you. So I suppose we'll have to take things slowly — between us, I mean." He looked away. "That's it, if you want that — having me there while we work things out."
"Of course I want that, Ron," she said, eager and more than a bit hopeful. "If I can get just a shadow of what we had before …" she made a pause, contemplating the possibility of being with Ron again. "I think I'd be more than happy."
"Me too," he said. "Me too." He grabbed her tiny hand in his big one and squeezed it affectionately, smiling at her. "I cannot promise anything, though. I don't want to lie to you."
"I understand, Ron. This is an unprecedented situation, but I can wait. We waited years for our first kiss, didn't we? I can do it again."
He squeezed her hand once more. "Thank you, Hermione."
"What for?"
"For being you. For being understanding, and patient, with me. I know I'm not being the easiest person to be with."
"Ron, you're my husband, despite our difficulties. And even if you weren't, you're my best friend."
"I know," he said, smiling. "And I know you want to talk, and for me to talk. And I promise you we will. One day I'll tell you everything. Hopefully, sooner rather than later. I just need more time, you know? To sort out my ideas and put order in my mind."
"You're right, I want to talk, to ask you a million questions, in fact. But I can wait, Ron, until you're ready."
"Thank you," he said again, giving her a sheepish but full of affection smile. "Now you better sleep. It's been a long day."
"Aren't you tired?"
"I took naps during the day," he said rather casually. "I'm not that tired. Besides, you know that I still can't bear darkness. Can you put that thing over Rose's cot so she can't see the light of my wand?"
Hermione nodded and did so before lying down again. "Good night, Ron," she told him, grabbing his hand once more.
"Good night, Hermione," he said back. And, with his hand in hers, she fell asleep.
"Here we are," said Hermione with a sigh, opening the door to Ron's and her house, having just Apparated there with Rose. As expected, the rebuilding of The Burrow had finished the day before. Mr and Mrs Weasley were moving to The Burrow today, and so Ron and she were moving back to their place, too. It seemed right in a way … Friday, September the first. Fifteen years ago, Harry, Ron and she had met.
The fireplace lit up, and, an instant later, Ron came through it, coughing. He tripped on his own feet and stumbled onto the floor, swearing loudly.
"Ron!" Hermione yelled, running towards him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he said grumpily, getting to his feet and brushing the ashes of his robes. "Fucking magical transportation," he swore. "Someone should invent a good way to travel, not this shit."
"Don't you prefer it to Apparition?"
"The lesser of two evils," he muttered. "Anyway, here we are," he said with a sigh, unaware that he had used the same words as Hermione, and looked around. "Good thing I cleaned the entire house that last day we were here, or —" he fell silent, remembering, just like Hermione was doing, what had happened that night. "— or it would be full of dust," he finished after a moment, looking away from her.
"I agree," she said, acting as if there hadn't been an awkward moment at all. "Well, I'd better get ready Rose's things."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Let me hold her meanwhile. Want me to prepare some tea?"
"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, giving him Rose, and then went to Rose's bedroom, her mind filling with memories at each step. In the room, she found all the things she had bought in Diagon Alley, with the help of Fleur, that afternoon after work. With a few spells she got the cot ready and the clothes in the wardrobe. She looked at the room for a moment, and then went downstairs. She heard Ron in the kitchen and walked towards it. He had Rose in his arms, and was finishing preparing the two cups of tea.
"Everything settled?" he asked, and she nodded. "Can you take the tray to the living room?"
She nodded again and took it there. They sat on the couch, and, in silence, they took a few sips.
"Well, we're back," he said after a bit.
"Yes," she nodded.
"It feels odd, doesn't it? After everything."
"More than odd, I'd say."
Silence fell once more, and they just stayed there, doing nothing, until Ron asked suddenly, "What do want to have for dinner?"
She looked at him and smiled. "Are you offering to cook?"
"I'm not that bad at cooking, and I've learned something during this time. I used to create meals for Antoine and Rhoda, and though I no longer can do that, I think I might be able to prepare something. It's only fair, isn't it?" he added. "I mean, you've got your job and did all the shopping in Diagon Alley so I wouldn't have to go there."
"All right," she accepted, smiling.
"Tell me, then, what do you want?"
"Just surprise me, Ron. Anything will be all right."
And so, after finishing her tea, Hermione took Rose upstairs, to feed, bathe and change her. Rose always become sleepy after being feed and bathed (in that order!) and so Hermione put her in the cot and covered her. She watched her for a bit, making sure she was asleep, and then she cast the Sensory charms and exited the room. She went downstairs, to the kitchen, and found Ron there, preparing sandwiches and looking infinitely sad. It was rather obvious, seeing the pots and pans piled in the sink, that he had tried to cook something and had failed.
"Ron …?"
"Sorry," he said, avoiding her gaze. "I tried, Hermione, and I thought I knew what to do, but then — then —" he shut his mouth and shook his head.
Hermione didn't say anything, thinking that it would be better if she let Ron explain at his own pace.
"— Then I couldn't do it," he finished. "I was suddenly overflown with ideas and memories and couldn't think straight, and — I'm sorry. I suppose I'm completely useless now," he added dejectedly. "I haven't got a job and can't even prepare a decent dinner."
"Ron, I don't care you can't cook."
"You should," he said. "I do. I feel so — so —" he stammered, looking for a word to describe himself.
"I wasn't that hungry," she told him, trying to make him feel better. "And the sandwiches look delicious. It'll be enough."
"It won't," he replied, stubborn, and Hermione had the sudden impression he wasn't talking about dinner, or just about dinner. She approached him and put his right hand over his left one.
"Don't do this to yourself, Ron," she said softly. "It's our first day home. Our family is alive and unscathed. You know you always underperform when you doubt yourself. With time, you'll regain your self-confidence, and everything will be better. Let's take each day as it comes, all right?"
"I'm trying," he said, looking into her eyes. "I swear to you that I am, but it's — it's so hard sometimes …"
"I know," she said. "Well, I don't," she rectified, "but you know what I mean."
He sighed once more, lowering his gaze to the table.
"Let's eat, Ron," she said, grabbing his hand in hers.
They ate in the living room, in complete silence. Ron seemed to be deep in thought, eating his sandwich absentmindedly; and, meanwhile, Hermione ate hers, just watching him. She knew that they needed time, and hoped that things would get better, because having dinner and not talking at all felt odd and completely unnatural. Ron and she just weren't like that.
"It was good," she said when she finished, breaking the silence.
"Eh?" he asked, startled. "What are you talking about?"
"The sandwich," she clarified, giving him a reassuring smile. "It was good, Ron. Delicious, even."
But Ron didn't smile back.
"Well, it's difficult to fuck up a sandwich, isn't it?" he spat, suddenly angry. "If I couldn't make something as simple then I should jump off a cliff and be done with."
Appalled by his bitter comment, she just shut her mouth, not knowing what to reply. In other times, she would have argued back, and maybe they would have ended having a row (that would probably end up with them shagging) but in their present situation …
Ron, however, seemed to notice her expression, and sighed.
"I'm sorry. I already told you that I am being an arse most of the time."
"No, you aren't," she denied, though they both knew she was lying; he was being an arse, even though he had reasons to be angry and harsh.
Ron let out a mirthless laugh. "You're lying, I know how I'm behaving, Hermione, but I can't help it sometimes. I'm sorry. This is not your fault, and you've got to put up with me."
"I'm not putting up with you!" she practically yelled. "I am here because I want to be here, Ron! I want to be with you, always have!"
"Maybe you'll change your mind," he replied. "When you've been here for a few days just with me and my misery. I just want to tell you that — that I won't blame you if you want to split up. I'll understand."
"Well, we've already split up, haven't we?" she said, rather fiercely. "We're — we're like flatmates who have a daughter, so you haven't got to worry about me wanting to split up with you."
Ron just stared at her, and then let out a laugh, a true laugh this time.
"Flatmates with a daughter …" he repeated, shaking his head at her. "Interesting choice of words … but accurate, I think." His smile vanished, and he turned serious once more. "Then, instead of splitting up, you'll want to move out, or for me to move out."
Hermione scowled at him. "After everything we've been through?" she said, looking at him with incredulity. "Do you think that, after our history, I'm going to give up on you because you feel bad after having sacrificed part of yourself to save us all? Do you really think that? You're supposed to know me perfectly, aren't you?"
"Well, when you put it that way …" he muttered, his ears turning pink. "I mean, it sounds pretty impressive, the way you say it. But I don't feel impressive, Hermione. I feel rather pathetic, to say the truth."
"Ron Weasley, you're anything but pathetic!" she scolded him. "Two days ago you were the most powerful being in the Universe, of course you feel that loss, but you are extraordinary, Ron!"
"I was extraordinary, Hermione."
"No, you are," she insisted, incensed. "It has nothing to do with powers, Ron, or knowledge! It has to do with your heart, with your soul!" He opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione didn't let him. "I don't care your soul lost that vibration! It's full of love, Ron, and kindness! You gave everything to protect Rose, to protect me. Nobody, ever has proved to love me more than you do, Ron. And you think I'll give up on you?" she shook her head. "No way, Ron. I'm determined to be with you, difficulties and heartache have never deterred me — us — in the past, and they won't now, either.
"If in six months, or a year," she continued, "things have not got better, then we'll talk and we'll see, but right now I'm willing to fight, Ron, for us. And if you're moody or sad and don't want to talk, I'll keep you company in silence; if you do, I'll listen to you; if you want to cry, I'll lend you my shoulder; and if you behave like an arse, as you put it, then I'll just tell you off, as I always have. Did I make myself clear?" she finished, red-faced, her fists tightly clenched and resting on her legs.
Ron just stared at her open-mouthed.
"You're simply amazing, you know?" he said after a bit. "It's no wonder I fell in love with you."
"I could say the same about you," she replied, still a bit flushed due to the intensity of her previous speech. "I've just did, in fact."
They fell silent once more for a few minutes, until Ron sighed and got to his feet.
"I should clear the mess I made in the kitchen, I think."
"It's not necessary, Ron. I can do it in second with magic, if you're not comfortable doing it yourself."
"I know, but I need to do it, Hermione. I need to find myself again, and being useful is the first thing, even if it's something as boring as house chores."
"OK," she said, nodding. Ron took the tray and carried it to the kitchen. Hermione followed him there, and leaned against the doorframe, observing him while he rolled up his sleeves and opened the tap. He took a scrubber and began to wash the pots and pans. As she watched him, Hermione realised it was the first time she saw him doing something like this as a Muggle. She found it rather endearing, and couldn't help but smile a little at the way he worked.
When he finished, he just stared at the sink for a bit, as if pondering something. Then, he took his wand and muttered a Drying Charm. It worked as expected, and a smile formed on his face.
"You see?" Hermione commented, feeling happy for him. "You're getting better, Ron, even if it's something easy."
"Yeah," he nodded. "A good thing, 'cause cleaning the dishes the Muggle way is rather tedious, to tell the truth."
"It is," she said, though she didn't mind sometimes. "Ron …" she started to say, and he looked at him with a questioning look. "I've meant to ask you for a while, and now I see you with your wand … Why did you keep it? I thought you had lost it, or left it, as you — as you didn't need it anymore."
Ron looked at his wand thoughtfully for a moment, and then back at her. "I don't know. I suppose it reminded me of my old life," he explained. "Oh, I lost it — broke it, more precisely, a few times, during my fights with Sbalkal, but well, I just repaired it the same way I repaired my clothes and body. Now I'm glad I did it. Doing magic with it still feels odd, but it helps that it's my old wand."
"Yes, I suppose. I remember how good was to get my wand back after the battle of Hogwarts."
"Yeah, for me too," he said as he put the pots, trays, plates and pans in their places. "Well, chores done," he stated, turning to look at her.
"What — what would you want to do?" she asked him. She knew exactly what she wanted, but didn't dare to say it, because a) she didn't know whether he would want or not, and b) she wasn't sure if it was a good idea, so soon, when there were so many issues in the air.
He thought about it for a moment, and then looked at the window. Night was falling. "Can we just sit in the backyard?" he suggested.
Hermione stared at him, surprised by the unusual request, and then nodded. "OK, Ron. As you want."
They both went out to the backyard, secluded by trees and Anti-Muggle charms, and stood outside the back door for a moment, taking in the sight. The grass needed a good mowing, and Hermione noticed that several gnomes had settled there. It looked somewhat abandoned.
"Tomorrow we've got to go to The Burrow for the Rebuilding Party, but on Sunday we should tend to this, don't you think?" commented Ron. "Make it habitable again."
"Yes, we should," said Hermione.
A few weeks after moving to the house they had had a wooden bench placed next to the back door, and they loved to sit on it in warm days to enjoy a bit of sun and fresh air. Usually, Ron just lay there lazily, having a drink or reading a magazine, while Hermione enjoyed a book; but there were other times when they both talked and laughed, and even (twice) made love on it, with Ron sitting while she rode him …
Hermione looked down, glad for the growing darkness that would conceal her blushing face from Ron. Despite all the unresolved issues, her body craved him, that was undeniable. And being there, in their home, where there wasn't a corner in which they hadn't made love, seemed to have intensified her desire, or, at least, made her more aware of it.
After a bit, when she felt rather confident that she wasn't blushing anymore, she turned her head to look at Ron. He was almost lying down, his long legs extended before him while his hands rested on his chest. His gaze was lost in the distance, and Hermione wondered what he was thinking about, but didn't dare ask.
"Do you want to — talk or something?" she asked him after a while, taking him out of his reverie. "If not, do you mind if I get a book?"
"Not at all," he said. "Go for it."
Nodding, she got up and went inside, to the study, and while she was there, thinking about what to read, she remembered that here was where everything had started. It had been in this room where Ron had healed her after the first attack. It had happened just ten months ago, and yet if felt like a lifetime. She picked one of the few books she hadn't read and walked back to the back garden, where she sat next to Ron, who hadn't moved at all. She used her wand to conjure a little floating ball of light and opened the book.
After a while, when she had managed to concentrate on the story, Ron spoke, startling her.
"This feels odd," he muttered. "Odd and strangely familiar, at the same time."
"Yes, it does," she agreed. "Sitting here carelessly, after all that has happened … is like waking up from a very long a vivid dream."
"Yeah."
"And if it feels that way for me, I — I cannot imagine how it must feel for you. For you it's been so long …" she trailed off. It was the first time Ron's age had been brought up in conversation since he had lost his power, and Hermione feared he wouldn't want to talk about it.
Ron looked down, at his hands, thoughtful.
"Not really," he said, after a while.
"What do you mean?"
"When I was a Master of Essence, I didn't remember things like you do, Hermione. We can — could," he corrected himself, "perceive the past, we could see it, almost touch it. We did not really need to remember, even if we did. And besides, during all that time I watched us, so, in a way, it's as if I had lived my life twice. Just in a way, remember I couldn't perceive myself clearly due to the fact that we shared the same power. Now that I'm not a Master, all those years … sometimes they seem unreal. Anyway, I don't really feel as I had spent twenty-four years there. I mean, I don't feel like I'm twenty-six, but I don't feel like fifty-one, either."
"Oh," she said, glad that he had opened up to her. "That's good, isn't it?"
"I think so," he said, though he didn't sound very sure. He shuddered suddenly, looking uncomfortable, and commented, "It's cold. How do you stand it? It's so — unpleasant."
Night had fallen, she noticed, and it was a bit chilly.
"It's not that cold," she told him. "A bit chilly, yes, but not bad for being in September. And you usually prefer cold to heat."
"Not now, I think," he said, grimacing. "Can we go back inside?"
She stared at him, and though his answer was logical, she couldn't help but notice how his eyes were moving all around, scanning the now dark backyard. She suspected it wasn't just cold what made Ron want to go back inside.
She closed the book, vanished the light ball and they went to the living room. Once there, Ron took out his wand and, after staring at him for a few moments, pointed it to the fireplace and lit a fire. He got closer to it, shivering a bit.
"This is better," he muttered, and sat on the floor while Hermione sat on the couch, with her legs tucked under her body. He put his legs against his chest and rested his chin on his knees, his face towards the flames. Hermione stared at him for a minute, and was opening her book once more when he blurted out, "How did I do it?"
"What?" she asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
He turned his head to look at her. "I used to sit there, beside you, doing nothing. How could I?"
Hermione blinked a few times, not understanding what his point was. "Ron, you've been doing that for as long as I've known you."
"I know," he said. "I remember doing it, and I watched myself doing it, but I cannot understand how I didn't bore myself to death. Staring at something for so long, without being able to perceive how alive Essence makes things … Don't you think it's terribly boring?"
Hermione didn't know how to respond to that.
"Ron, I — I've never perceived Essence, so I can't know."
"Yeah, I know. I was just thinking out loud."
"Before all this, you hadn't perceived it, either, so maybe that's why you could do it. Although, if I am sincere, I've never understood how you could sit for hours doing nothing, either."
"Laziness, I suppose."
She stared at him questioningly. "And you're no longer lazy, then?"
He shrugged sadly. "Dunno what I am, do I?" he responded. "In a way, the idea of just sitting doing nothing feels horribly tedious, but, on the other hand, doing things with Magic or the Muggle way takes too much bloody time, so — I don't know."
"Well, three nights ago you didn't sleep. Weren't you just doing nothing?"
"Yeah, but I had lots of things to think about, didn't I? So I spent the night doing that — and watching Rose, of course. And it was rather boring after a while, mind you."
"I don't know what to tell you, Ron," she said after a few moments of silence. "I suppose you can read, or could watch TV, if you want.
"Yeah," he said, not very enthusiastic. He had never been very fond of TV.
They fell into a comfortable silence, a nice change, Hermione realised, and she began to read once more. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ron move and looked at him. He sniffled himself and grimaced. He got up.
"I think I'm going to have a shower," he announced. "I no longer can be clean just by wishing it."
"OK," she said, nodding. He disappeared upstairs, and Hermione continued reading. Half an hour later, she heard the bathroom door open and turned her head to look at the stairs. Ron was climbing them down, dressed in the blue pyjamas she had gave him for his birthday the year before. It was the first time she had seen him in other attire than his black robes and cloak since March.
"Blue suits you much better than black," she commented.
Ron looked down at himself, a bit sheepishly, and shrugged. "I thought the usual attire of the Masters of Essence is not appropriate anymore," he said, and Hermione could perceive some sadness in his voice. "Besides, even if I wanted to dress like that, I haven't got another set of robes like those. An advantage of being a Master of Essence is that you never have to wash your clothes."
"I assume you haven't showered in all this time, either?"
"You're right," he said. "But a good shower is OK. I think I can get accustomed to it sooner than to washing the dishes or cleaning the house," he joked, and grinned at her. And though there was a sadness there that she could see, she felt grateful towards him, because he really was trying, and gave him a bright smile that soon turned into a yawn.
"I think I'm going to bed. Are you coming?" she asked him.
"Mmmh …" he said. "I don't want to disturb you with the light, Hermione, and I'm not ready to be in the darkness."
"I understand, but — do you mind coming with me? Until I fall asleep? I don't want to go to our bed alone, Ron. It would remind me of the time after you left, and I don't want to think about that."
"Sure," he nodded.
They went to their bedroom in silence. Hermione changed into her nightclothes and got under the blankets, trying not to think about the last night they had spent there, because, on one hand, the memory made her wet, but, on the other hand, it was incredibly sad. And besides — she tried to convince herself — what had happened that night belonged to another life. Now they were starting something new, weren't they?
"Ron …"
"Yeah?" he said, sitting on his side of the bed and looking at her.
"Thank you for opening up to me earlier. I know it's difficult for you."
"Hermione, I told you I want to talk to you, to tell you everything. Some things are more difficult to talk about than others, but as soon as I feel comfortable, I want to talk about them with you. You haven't got to thank me."
"Even so, I'm thankful, Ron. It felt good, talking like that."
"Yeah, it did. Now sleep, OK?"
"You should, too, or you'll fall asleep at your mum's table."
"Don't think so," he said. "Now that I feel hunger again, I don't think I could sleep through a meal at The Burrow."
Hermione laughed a bit. "That's the Ron I love," she said, smiling. He looked into her eyes, and then lowered his gaze, smiling, too, though a bit awkwardly.
"Hermione Granger saying she prefers my manners at the table than me having an insatiable thirst for knowledge. I never thought I would see the day."
"I just prefer you," she confessed, "with your virtues and flaws; the whole, unadulterated, Ron Weasley package."
"Oh, so you want my package?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "Now you're making dirty jokes … who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"
Hermione felt her body heat up at the sexual innuendo and stared at him intensely. "I love you, Ron."
"And I love you too. Now sleep, OK? You look knackered," he said, putting an end to the moment.
She felt disappointed, but decided to let it pass and smiled at him. Things were better, it was not necessary to force them.
"Good night, Ron."
"Good night, Hermione."
— — o — —
"Come in," Hermione said, raising her gaze from the paper she was revising, her proposal for a new Law concerning the appointment of high-ranked officials, and looked at the door. It opened and Harry walked in. He smiled at her.
"Hey, Hermione."
"Harry, what are you doing here? And on a Friday, no less."
"There is an applicant for a position with the Aurors, and I had to interview him. Giving how little resources we've got, I didn't dare wait until my paternity leave is over. But as the appointment is in ten minutes, I decided to pay you a visit, we haven't seen each other since last Saturday at The Burrow. How are you?"
"I'm fine," she said, leaning against the back of the chair to look at him properly.
He raised one eyebrow. "Just fine?"
She shrugged. "Some days are good, some are bad. Today has been … not so great, to tell you the truth," she confessed, sighing.
"Why? What's happened?" he asked, worried.
"Ron was very moody this morning," she explained. "We had a row during breakfast."
"Well, Hermione, you two having a row —"
"It wasn't one of our typical rows, all right?" Hermione cut him in. "Things have been going steadily better since last week," she told him. "He's more quiet, that's true, and sometimes I notice he's surly and a bit angry, but he usually keeps it to himself. But most of the time he's better. He does things at home, he talks, he even laughs and jokes a bit, you know." She made a pause. "As you know, he doesn't sleep well at night. On one hand, it's good for me, as he feeds Rose when she wakes up and so I can sleep a bit more. Then he lies beside me and is usually there when I wake up. But on Monday morning, when I woke up he wasn't there, and when I went downstairs I found out he had prepared breakfast for me, and has been doing the same the entire week. But, today ..." she trailed off.
"Today what?" he asked, serious.
"Today, when I entered the kitchen, it smelt of burnt toast, that were scattered all around, there were eggs on the floor … well it was right mess. I asked him what had happened and we — we ended up rowing and he stormed off to the backyard," she finished, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Hermione …"
"He w-was so angry, Harry …"
"Well, let me tell you he didn't look angry when I saw him earlier, so you can relax. I'm sure it was just a bad moment."
Hermione stopped sobbing at once and stared at him, surprised. "You saw him? Where?"
"At yours. As I had to leave and come here, I decided to go and visit him, to see how he was doing. He was mowing the grass manually when I got there. Quite a sight, I've got to say."
"Yes, he discovered last Sunday that he likes doing that. He says it relaxes him."
"We went to the Muggle pub in the village," continued Harry. "He wasn't like before, of course, but well, he didn't look angry. A bit sad, a bit distracted, but not angry. We had a pint and then went back to your house. It felt good, having a drink with him. I missed that."
"I imagine. And he didn't mention anything? About the row, I mean."
"No," Harry said. "Well, not that Ron and I talk about you or Ginny. We prefer to avoid that subject."
"Why?"
"Well, Ginny's Ron's sister, and you're the closest thing to one for me, so —"
"Harry, Ron probably has seen you and Ginny have sex, so …"
Harry's face went pale. "Oh, fuck! I hadn't thought about that! Thank you for that unnecessary bit of information, Hermione," he groaned, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. It felt good. Harry stared at her with a mortified expression that only made her laugh harder. After a moment, Harry started to laugh too.
"Thank you, Harry," she said once she managed to stop laughing. "For visiting Ron and taking him out. Anything that makes him feel normal is welcome."
"He's my best friend, Hermione, you haven't got to thank me. I enjoy spending time with him. I missed him." He checked his wristwatch. "I've got to go. Come and have lunch with us on Sunday, will you?" he told her.
"I'll tell Ron," she said. "We'll send you an owl. I'd love to see how little Albus is doing."
"Good," he said, standing up. "See you, OK?"
She nodded and Harry left.
Once she was alone again, she closed her eyes and thought about last week. Despite his mood changes, Ron had got steadily better, becoming more like his old self. The day before he even had asked her not to take Rose to The Burrow before going to work, saying that he would take care of her for the day. And then, out of nowhere, that row, which kept playing in his mind again and again …
She stopped dead in the entrance to the kitchen when she saw the disaster: burnt toasts scattered all over the floor and the table, a smoking pan in the sink and even three or four eggs on the floor. She surveyed the scene for a moment, before focusing on Ron, who had his hands on the windowsill, facing away from her, his head low.
"Ron? What's happened? Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he responded curtly, without moving or looking at her. "Everything's fine, don't you see? I just fucked everything up, but nothing's wrong!" he shouted, angry.
She gave a step into the kitchen and sighed. "Ron, don't worry, I can clean it up in a sec—"
"DON'T!" he yelled as he turned round, making her jump on the spot. He looked beside himself. "STOP DOING THAT!"
"Doing — doing what?"
"Trying to fix everything!" he answered, still shouting. "You can't fix everything, Hermione! I think I can clean the kitchen without your help, thank you very much!"
Hermione blinked a few times, bewildered, and reminded herself that, actually, Ron wasn't angry at her.
"I know you can," she said, trying to sound calm. "I know you feel frustrated, Ron, and I understand it."
"YOU DON'T!" he yelled, furious. "Even if you're the fucking brightest witch of your age, you can't understand everything!"
Rationally, she knew that his outburst wasn't really directed at her. But rationality, which was one of her main treats, had never been useful where Ron was concerned. She felt tears prick her eyes and scowled at him.
"I told you I would tell you if necessary, and now it is: you're being an arse, Ron!"
"Good!" he yelled, throwing his arms into the air in mocking celebration. The only thing I'm good at now, being an arse! At least I excel at something!"
He made a quick half-turn, and his extended left hand hit the fridge. He yelled in pain. "Bloody fucking hell!" He took his left hand in the other and closed his eyes, a painful expression etched upon his face.
"Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?"
"No, I'm yelling because I like it," he answered sarcastically.
"I'm only trying to help, Ron! But if you don't want my help, I'll just go to work and leave you here!"
"Good!" he said, still in pain. "I suppose you don't want to be with an arse."
"No, I don't!"
"Then I'll leave you alone while you have your breakfast, don't wanna impose my disturbing presence on you!" he shouted, and, turning round, exited the kitchen through the back door.
Hermione stared at the empty kitchen for a moment, and then, with tears in her eyes, not feeling hungry at all, walked into the fireplace to go to the Ministry …
She opened her eyes and leaned forwards, putting her elbows on her desktop and burying her face in her hands.
At least he seemed to have calmed down, according to Harry. Sighing, she looked at the papers she had been reading. She had no strength to go through this today. In fact, being Friday it was a good day to go home early. After all, the only reason she hadn't taken the whole week off to be with Ron was because she knew he needed time alone to find himself again. The whole family knew that and they hadn't been flooded them with visits. She realised she had already made a decision, so she got up and left her office, wondering what awaited her at home.
In a bit, you'll get the answer to that question, in the last part of this chapter (the longest!) that is the truly end of this story.