Ron was going to break the bones in her hand. She could feel the joints rubbing and cracking against each other, trying to accommodate to the pressure he was inflicting on them. Hermione did not complain one bit. Instead, she stood with him at her parents' door, reaching for the keys in her pocket with her free hand. She did not, however, try to unlock it.

"Go on," he said, "let's get this over with."

"It's going to be all right, Ron," she said in a low voice. "I promise."

"You don't know that."

"But I do! And you've met them before. I don't understand-"

"I know what you're thinking," he interrupted, his voice low as to not being overheard, "and this is not about confidence. This is about our future. If they don't like me for whatever reason, which could include, you know, me telling them to stop being mean to you when I can't stand it—"

"They're not going to be mean to me," she said in the same hushed tones.

"Or maybe the fact I can't really pretend to be a Muggle—"

"They won't—"

"If they don't like me, if they decide they don't want me to be with you, I'm going to stand my ground, Hermione. I'm not letting you go and they'll have to stuff their opinions up their—"

"Hey!" the door opened wide in front of them, with Hermione's mum appearing to greet them. "I thought I saw you and—oh, my, you're tall!"

"Hi, yes—I'm tall," Ron confirmed, nonsensically.

Hermione looked from Ron's face, a bit pallid, to her mum's, smiling, who offered her hand for him to shake.

"Very nice to see you again, Ron. Come on in," she said, moving away to let them in. "I saw you walking to the door, but the door never opened and I just wondered—Honey! They're here."

Hermione's dad came out from the kitchen.

"Hello, Ron," he said, offering his hand as well.

"Hello, it's nice to see you both," Ron responded with his most polite behaviour.

"How was the trip?"

"Good, good. Thanks!" he added as an afterthought.

Then they stood there, silence dense with awkwardness.

"All right," Hermione said, trying to end the moment. "I'll take Ron to my bedroom, since he's going to be keeping his things there. Then he can freshen up while I help you with dinner."

"Sounds perfect," Hermione's mum agreed.

And without further ado, Hermione lead Ron towards her room, not without first hearing her mum telling her dad, "he's so tall!"

"Why is she so stuck on my height?" Ron asked her softly as they crossed her door.

"Probably because she remembers you from five growth spurts ago."

He chuckled. "Well, at least that was... decent. Average. You don't think she heard what I was saying before...?"

"No, not at all. She was too chirpy," she explained. "Anyway, should I empty a drawer for you? I didn't think you'd bother..."

"No, I won't bother," he replied, putting his bag on a chair. Then he turned and, quickly peeking behind Hermione to make sure they were alone, stepped closer to her and surrounded her waist with his arms. "Hey."

She looked up at him, fisting his shirt at his hips. "Hi."

"I missed you," he said.

"Me too."

"I don't think we said hi properly when I arrived."

Hermione looked back, too, in case her parents were around. They weren't. She rose to her toes to kiss him, smiling against his lips when she felt his hands pulling her closer to him.

"I better go, my parents will wonder what's taking me this long," she said, but they stayed together for a minute more, his forehead against hers.

"This moment can be forever," was all he said.

Hermione's parents seemed to have a lot of questions. That much was clear to him, as soon as they sat down to eat dinner.

"You know, we were trying to remember when the last time was that we saw you," Hermione's mom said. Her parents looked at each other. "Was it when you came with your dad to pick up Hermione, before your fifth year?"

Ron looked at Hermione as if he could read her mind, or as if she would know the answer. "I think so... I remember because that summer we didn't stay at the Burrow the whole time. I'm pretty sure my dad went alone to pick Hermione up the year after."

"And the year after, last summer, everything was different. That summer… well, we all know what happened," Hermione's mum said.

The weight of that statement hung in the air; they all knew what it implied: that year was when Hermione had changed their memories.

Ron looked carefully at Hermione's parents, assessing whether he'd have to say something to appease them at best, or stepping up to defend Hermione at worst. Nothing happened and, after a moment, her dad tried to change the subject.

"Right," Hermione's dad said. "So, it's been three years. I remember that when you came with your dad, you and Hermione quickly went to get her things, while Arthur and we talked."

This had to be why Hermione said her parents were trying to work through their issues, too. They were also trying to keep things moving forward.

"It's so funny to me," her mom said, obviously unaware of Ron's train of thought, "that you have always seemed so close, but it's only until recently that you got together."

This time, when Ron looked at Hermione, he did so in the hopes she would take over. He had no idea how to respond to that.

"Uhm, yeah, lots of people think that," Hermione said, catching on to his silent plea.

Ron's insides twisted. What would he say if her parents asked about their history? How many details would he have to give? And if he had to say anything about all the times he failed Hermione, would they find it in them to be as understanding and forgiving as Hermione had been? Not that Hermione had been a saint, either, but he was sure her parents would only care about the mistakes he had made.

Luckily, they didn't.

"Hermione tells us you work with your brother, helping him with business," her mum commented. "What is the business about?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied, grateful that this was a topic he knew how to talk about. "It's a joke shop."

"What are you doing, there?" Hermione's dad asked.

"Uhm, a bit of everything, but technically I'm in charge of day-to-day operations, business and employee management, projections... all that boring stuff."

Ron, who had been busy focusing on cutting a piece of chicken breast now that his insides had gone back to normal, stopped to look up when he noticed his words had been met with silence.

Hermione's parents were looking at him with shock on their faces. Ron looked at Hermione, confused, wondering if she had any idea of why they were reacting like that.

They had to have noticed the strangeness of their reaction, for they began to explain.

"No, that's great! It's just we—we never realised you were in charge of the business." Hermione's mum said.

"It must be a rather small company, I wager?" Her dad added.

"We'll have ten employees by the end of the month, and have been growing in sales every week since we re-opened," Ron described. "We also just opened a mail service for national and international delivery, with mail orders. I don't know how that compares to a Muggle company, though."

"And you handle all of that?"

"Err... yeah," Ron replied, at a loss. He didn't know what was so shocking about it. "I mean, my brother is running the delivery service, but yeah."

"Is that normal in the wizarding world? To be so... entrepreneurial... at such a young age?"

Ron was still confused. What was so surprising about what he did? He had stepped up to do what needed to be done. He had happened to be good at it, and he had learned to enjoy the process. It was a simple thing, really, and he didn't know why Hermione's parents had reacted like this.

"Not particularly," Hermione said. "Ron's brothers, who originally started the shop—well, they were very entrepreneurial. They started selling things they created to other students about three years before they left school. They eventually left school to start the business, which quickly flourished."

"They tried to continue the business, at first, when the war started," Ron added. "They finally had to close it when our family was targeted for being blood traitors, whatever that means. After everything… the business was closed for a while. We reopened almost two months ago."

"Hermione has told us how horrible it all was. How difficult it has been, since then," Hermione's dad told him.

"Yes, it has been," was all Ron said.

"Well, from what Hermione tells us, your family is lovely."

Ron cleared his throat. "They are. And talking about that, they sent you something."

He got up and brought the gift.

"That is so nice of them!" Hermione's mum exclaimed as she accepted the box and began to unwrap it. Ron, who didn't know what it was, was curious, too.

Especially when they held it in their hands, because he had no idea what he was looking at.

"...a VHS tape?" Hermione's dad asked.

Ron noticed the confusion on their faces.

"Isn't that... a children's show?" Hermione's mum added.

Ron didn't need to hear more to realise it had been the wrong gift.

"I am sorry," Ron said, worried that the tape was inappropriate. "I didn't know what the gift was... my dad had the best intentions, I swear."

"He loves Muggle technology," Hermione added, "he must have thought this was fascinating, and I suppose he thought it would show they have no problems with Muggle culture..."

Hermione's parents looked at each other and, after a second, laughed.

"That is really sweet of them. Hermione told us not all wizard families are comfortable with or even like Muggles."

"There are people who hate Muggles, Mum," Hermione said. "It's what we went to war for."

Her parents mirth died down.

"Right. Well, Ron, you tell your parents we really appreciate the gift. It was very thoughtful."

"I will," Ron said.

"Now, tell us about how it was to grow up in a fully magical world. What differences do you find the most striking?" Hermione's mum said.

"Errrr..." Ron said, trying to gain some time. How was he supposed to answer that? He didn't know much of the Muggle world…

He took a deep breath. It was going to be a long dinner.

Ron couldn't sleep. He fluffed his pillow for the third time, kicked the bottom of the blankets to loosen them up, and resolutely closed his eyes. It didn't work. Giving up, he opened his eyes and resigned himself to look at the ceiling for a few hours.

Dinner had been torture. He thought he finally had a good understanding of what Hermione meant when she said things with her parents weren't bad, but they weren't good, either. He didn't know what made it so difficult to talk to them; was it their mistrust and nervousness, or something else?

Before sleep, while Ron collected his things from Hermione's room, he had asked her if he had done something wrong. Were they always this difficult to talk to? She assured him this had nothing to do with something he did; that this was the new normal.

Normal? It had been barmy! They had been incredulous that he would know so little of the Muggle world and, then, when he told them of their isolation from anything non-magical while growing up, they wanted to know if all Purebloods kept their distance from Muggles.

Hermione had come to the rescue, reminding her parents that they had discussed all of this before, and that Ron's family was the most Muggle-friendly Pureblood family she had ever met. She again pointed out that it was the reason why they had fought in the war; she reminded them what Ron's dad did for a living. Ron told them stories of growing up seeing the Muggle things his dad would bring home, the stories he would tell, and how both his parents had said time and time again that Muggles and wizards were equal. He thought that, by the end of dinner, Hermione's parents had a better understanding of it all but, if he were being honest, the whole conversation left him with an uneasy feeling. He wished he could talk about it to Hermione.

Maybe she had been feeling the same way, because she appeared in the living room with soft feet. She came closer to the bed, leaning down to check on him.

"Oh, good, you're awake," she whispered, before lifting the covers of his sofa bed and getting in close to him. She sighed, "oh, you're warm."

Her arm went around his waist, her head finding its place on his shoulder. He surrounded her with his arms, his head coming down to nuzzle into her hair.

"I hope you don't mind I'm sneaking to be with you for a while," Hermione said. "I just wanted us to get some alone, quality time together."

"Mind? Pffft. How dare you ask," he joked, squeezing her to him.

"So... I think my parents like you."

He scoffed. "I'll have to trust you, because all I saw was awkwardness."

"But I think the awkwardness was because of how things are, not because of you. They actually seemed pretty curious about magic, in my opinion."

"You think they would be okay with me doing a couple of spells?"

"I don't know. I mean, they might be more open to seeing a bit of magic from you, rather than from me… at the very least, they're not going to feel as comfortable telling you to stop."

"That's why you invited me, then? To use me to soften your parents to magic?"

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes.

He laughed.

"Shhh!" she admonished, reaching her wand to cast a muffliato. "I don't want to wake them!"

"I wouldn't worry about that, now that you cast that spell. We could get really loud, and it wouldn't matter."

"Don't get ideas in your head, Ron Weasley," she said, a finger pointing at him to make her point.

"Me? You're the one that likes to surprise me with a change in plans, if you know what I mean."

She gave him a mix of a smile and a smirk. "Of course I know what you mean. I remember it all quite well, thank you."

"So, are you going to tell me what made you change your mind? I thought we were waiting for France."

"You don't regret it, do you?"

"What? Of course not! How did you go from me asking what made you change your mind to me not liking it?"

"Oh, I know you liked it."

"Hermione Granger, I don't believe you. Dirty jokes, now?"

"Please," she said, dismissing. "Anyway, you don't mind I changed plans, do you? And you know what I mean by that."

"No, I don't mind. I told you before, as long as it happened with you, I didn't need anything else."

She sighed in contentment. "I know it could have been more of a romantic memory if we had had waited for France… but still, I don't care. Just like you said, it was about us being together like that. And to answer your question, that day I had been thinking, and decided we were already intimate and that my fear of losing control was pointless. I explained it to you that day."

"You did."

"Basically," she began, and in that single word Ron heard she was going to repeat herself anyway, and was ready to argue as if he held the same kind of power as the Wizengamot. "Sex is more than penetration. It is more than possible to have sex without it and it would still be sex. That's what we were doing. We were already being spontaneous and comfortable with each other. We were already doing what I was afraid to do—letting go of prediction and simply reaching out for each other with the purpose of intimacy and pleasure."

"Right," he said. If he thought about it, he could understand where she was coming from, so he agreed. Maybe he was old-fashioned, but he believed it would take him time to fall fully behind that logic. He knew she was right, but then why did he feel like there was a difference in penetration? Only because he had been taught that?

He shook his head slightly; he wasn't going to make sense of it all at the moment. To be honest, he didn't need to make sense of it. Whether they had begun having sex three weeks or three days ago, he didn't really care, because it had been with her. He'd got to experience all those things with her. That's all he'd ever wanted.

She reached with a finger to smooth the creases between his eyebrows; he hadn't noticed he had furrowed them.

She smiled. "I also think that it helps me—and us—so that, when we're in France, we don't have the pressure of when or how or what. We can just… go with the mood."

"I thought that was the plan from the beginning."

"Yes, but it wasn't that easy for me, was it? Because there were things I was nervous about and that would have gotten in the way of me just, you know, enjoying it."

"Right. Well, I'm glad, then, that this way we'll enjoy everything we do in France more. In a way, it's the second first time. Just like we had a second first kiss. Maybe that's how we're going to make things work for us—doing things once and then making it much better the second time. That's fine by me."

She gave him one of those sweet smiles that made him melt and want to kiss her.

"That's fine by me, too."

The next day they did the tourist stuff. Even though it was winter, the temperatures were quite warm for Ron's standards. Ron's favourite part was the beach; the sun gave the ocean a relaxed and leisure quality that the sea didn't seem to have back in England.

They were now having dinner in a restaurant near a famous place whose name Ron had already forgotten. Hermione's parents had suggested what he should eat, noticeably curious as to how far his unfamiliarity went. When the waiter came to get their order, starting with drinks, they chose cocktails for themselves and Ron, but suggested Hermione got juice.

"Alcohol is probably a bad idea with your medications," said her mother with a smile.

That was the first sign that something wasn't right. He looked at Hermione, who evaded his eyes. That was the second.

"So, what is your plan for when you go back to school, then?" Hermione's dad asked. "I'm assuming you'll go to the doctor before you leave, and ask them to give you enough medicine until Christmas holiday?"

"Yes," she replied. "I have enough for about two weeks, time when I'll go to the doctor to get more."

Ron cut a glance at her. She gave him a supplicating look. Please don't tell them, it clearly said.

"They're evidently working," her mum was saying. "You haven't had anything happen while you've been here, right? And you were saying nothing has really happened in the past few months, either."

Ron, still looking at her, raised an eyebrow in exasperation and disbelief.

"Everything has been fine," she replied to her mother, but the way she was looking back at him, he knew she was talking to him only.

"I am so happy about that, dear. We were so worried," Hermione's dad said.

"I know you worry," Hermione said, still looking at Ron, before looking at her dad, then her mom. "And I appreciate it. Things are in control and things are going to be all right. The war is part of the past. Now, we're looking to the future."

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, her mind exploded with thoughts and worries about what had happened at dinner. She could still see Ron's face, a mix of incredulity and irritation at discovering she had lied to her parents.

He had understood her request and hadn't said a thing during dinner. She knew he wasn't happy about it, despite his compliance. Even if she didn't think it was a big deal, she was finding it hard to rest knowing that the three other people in this house were not completely happy with her. It felt like her parents never were and, in a way, she had learned to navigate that… but for Ron to not be happy with her was too much.

She was debating whether to go check on him to explain her reasoning when her door opened. She looked in its direction to see Ron come in, closing the door behind him, and casting a spell—she assumed it would be muffliato.

"Hey," Ron said, coming to sit at the end of her bed. His tone was monotone, which concerned her.

"Hi," she replied, sitting up and bending her knees high, so that she could wrap them with her arms. "I was thinking of going to talk to you."

Ron rested his elbows on his knees, in a tired posture that told Hermione he was more upset than she thought. She pursed her lips and waited, squinting at him.

"Why didn't you tell your parents you're off the pills?" he finally asked, his body still but his face turned to her.

"You're not going to get into it gently, are you?"

"Do I have to? Don't you know exactly why I'm here?"

"Yes, I know why you're here," Hermione said, finding it hard not to get defensive. "It's my decision what I share with my parents and what I don't."

"Hermione—"

"They don't get to choose how I try to deal with this. They don't need to know about the medications I am taking—rather, not taking."

"That wasn't what you told them though, was it? You didn't say, oh, I'd rather not say or some bullshit like that; no. You pretended like you were still taking pills!"

Hermione was taken aback by his gritted teeth and bitten words.

"Why are you getting so mad?!"

"I'm mad that your parents believe you're still taking medication. It makes you vulnerable. What if something had happened? But, worse, I'm mad that you lied. Wasn't that the whole reason your relationship with your parents was so fucked up? Because you lied? And then you lied about this? This is your life, again, and your safety, and you lied again."

Hermione gasped. "How dare you say that to me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

She came to her knees, her body balancing forward in as much of a fighting stance as she could muster.

"Because it's a low blow! You're saying that the tension with my parents is all about what I have done!"

"I never said that!" he exclaimed, turning his body to her. One of his legs came up to rest on the bed, bent, his foot locking under the other leg's knee. His torso mirrored Hermione and leaned forward, a hand advancing on the bed to balance his weight, the other gesticulating wildly in the air. "Your parents are close minded and strong-headed—you definitely come by that honestly—but you have done everything you can to make them happy. Except for telling the truth about this!"

"It's just one thing! Don't I deserve to have one thing left only for myself?"

"This is not only about yourself. This is about something they were a part of and, you know what? This is about what would have happened if you had an attack. They wouldn't have known how to help you!"

"But that didn't happen!"

"It could have! And, worse—how do you think they'd react if they realised you lied about something important, something they care about?"

"They won't know, unless you tell them."

"I would never tell them!"

"But you're telling me!"

"Should I hide these things from you, then? Can't I have an opinion?"

"This is not an opinion, this is a judgment."

Ron rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Call it whatever you want, Hermione, but accept that you made a mistake and own up to it."

"A mistake?!" her voice was shrill to her own ears. "I thought you would be supportive of me!"

"I am trying to be, Hermione, but you're fighting me on it."

"You're not being supportive, you're being an arse!"

"And you're being stubborn as hell!"

Hermione sat back on the bed again, crossing her arms close under her breasts. "I can't believe you, Ron. You're saying you're trying to help me but all I hear are criticisms."

"Don't you get it? I'm trying to help you make things work with your parents! You say things are better but, fuck me, you all are stiff and barmy and dry and awkward. You act like you're still eight, afraid your parents will ground you if they discover you got a low mark on a test. They behave like they have a right to tell you what to do with your life. If you want them to treat you like an adult and forgive the decision you made because you were grown up enough to make it, then you have to be a grown up that can make decisions your parents may disagree with."

Hermione felt the truth of his words shock her. She tried to deny it to herself, to hide the impact his argument had on her.

She lost the battle and her arms loosened against her, her chin falling to rest between her clavicles.

He was graceful in his victory. He came to sit next to her, surrounding her shoulders with an arm and kissing her temple.

"You can't have the relationship you want with your parents if you lie to them," he told her in a soft voice.

"I know."

"They love you. They will be angry, but they'll get used to you making your own choices."

"I'm ashamed, Ron. I think… I would feel more confidence in my decision if I could also tell them that it's fully managed, but it isn't. They probably believe that what's happening to me is as fixable as adding a couple more compounds to my brain. Laura told me that even medication wouldn't guarantee that I won't have any more attacks or that life would be everything I wanted, but I don't know if they'll listen… and I don't know if I have the energy to have another fight with them, like it was when I first came here to find them."

"You are a strong witch. I'm sure you'll find the energy for it, and you know what? There is a big difference. This time you'll have me at your side."

Hermione sighed, her head falling to rest on his shoulder.

"They won't be happy with you, either, if you're a part of that conversation," she warned him.

"I know what side I'm on and that's yours, always. Even if that means they'll be pissed off for a while. I'm not afraid of a row if the payoff is worth it."

"Is that why you fight me all the time?"

Ron laughed. "I knew you'd figure that one out, one day."

They had cuddled on her bed for a while after their argument, talking about Ron's impressions about Australia. Afterwards he'd left her to sleep at the sofa, in the agreement that they'd talk to her parents during breakfast.

Now they sat around the kitchen table, while Ron gave her looks to encourage her to speak up. She took a big gulp of air and held it in, evaluating. How should she start?

"You two are very quiet this morning," her mum said.

"I want to talk to you both, if that's all right."

"It's important," Ron added, effectively blocking any attempt to make this look like an innocuous subject.

"Please let me do the talking for now," she whispered to him. He nodded.

"What is going on?" her dad asked, worry clear in his voice.

"You're too young to get married," her mum said this time, her fork frozen mid air ever since Hermione had announced she wanted to talk to them.

"What?!" Hermione and Ron exclaimed in unison.

"I've seen the way you look at each other and, after all you've been through, it would only be normal if you think—"

"We've talked about that in the long term but it's not something we're doing right now," Ron let out in rapid fire, as if he had decided to let them know of this very loose plan despite himself. Hermione almost got whiplash, she turned to look at him so quickly; she saw the red blush going up his neck—this was serious embarrassment, far beyond Red Ear Tips Level.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, shocked; he returned her look and she saw it—he had a plan. Somehow, her mum's assumption had given him an idea and, knowing him, she knew she should trust it. She looked back at her parents.

"I'm sorry I let that out without warning," he said to her, "but since it came up… well, I want your parents to know this is serious for me."

"For us," Hermione added, while her mind covered a thousand possibilities as to what he was planning, and how would this help her in the conversation they were to have with her parents.

"How long have you been together for? Two months at best? And you think you're going to end up married?" Hermione's dad questioned, his voice holding the notes of incredulity.

"We've known each other for seven years. Our relationship is built on the foundation of a long friendship," Hermione argued. "I know him better than anyone."

"But you're both still too young!" her mum exclaimed and, in that moment, she knew what Ron had concocted. By going about it this way, she didn't need to make this about how she had lied to them. She could use this conversation to bridge the gap between them, instead, while also letting them know the truth.

She felt a wave of gratefulness that made her smile, reach for his hand, and squeeze it tight. When their eyes locked, she was sure he knew they were on the same page. He smiled back.

"We've gone through things that no one goes through at our age," Hermione said, still looking at Ron. "We were forced to grow fast. I've known my heart for a long time, and what didn't change over the last few years won't ever change. I don't know when it'll happen, but I think… we both agree… it'll happen."

Ron smirked in a contained grin, but his eyes smiled and shone at her. Again they talked without words; even if this was part of a strategy, it was also their reality.

Ron broke their silent devotion for each other to talk to her parents directly.

"We didn't ask to have to mature fast to lead a war and yeah, we're young and old for our age. At some point, this means we're grown up enough to make our own decisions."

"Law says that's now," Hermione added. "Life seems to agree with law, for us."

"You have to admit this is shocking," Hermione's dad said. "You're telling us this to let us know this is serious?"

"Mum thought that it was what we wanted to talk about," Hermione replied. "We just let her know our thoughts on the matter. At the end of the day, all we ask is that you treat us as adults."

"Adults," her mum repeated. "Do you know what being an adult means?"

"That's our whole point," Hermione insisted. "We know about that much more than the typical 18-year-old."

"I am going to train to become an Auror, while working full time at the business with my brother. I live on my own with him, paying our bills and all."

"And me… I will go on to study to access a good job at the Ministry. Once I'm done with the school year, perhaps I will find a place on my own; I don't know, I haven't thought about it yet. I will follow an alternative treatment plan for my PTSD, as I don't want to depend on pills that are not easily accessible from Hogwarts. I plan go live my life in the magical world and, if Muggles don't have a good understanding of mental health, wizards are worse." She saw her parents wanting to interrupt, but she lifted a hand to stop them. "We have been terrified and overjoyed, we have lost and grieved. We have fought and endured. I think we deserve to be treated like people who can make their own choices."

Silence stretched for a moment. Hermione's parents shared a look, the same kind she and Ron had been sharing throughout breakfast: one of unspoken communication.

"It sounds like you really wanted to make your point; that you want us to see you as an adult," her mum began. "What brought this up? I don't understand. Do you feel we have been treating you like a child?"

She felt Ron's hand squeeze hers. This was the reason for the strategy, for her to be honest about the decisions she had made, and open about their relationship.

"I think we have been in limbo. All three of us have tried so hard to make it work… but I think I know why it wasn't working. We were trying to go back to how things were before the height of the war. We tried to go back to what we thought was normal; before Australia, before I was tortured, before we won, and before you knew of my betrayal of your trust. But all those things changed us and I think we knew, but didn't know how to fix it."

Hermione saw realization and acceptance soften her parents' face.

"Most parents—" Hermione's mum gulped, her voice breaking. "Most parents see their children grow gently; they have time to adjust. If they're lucky, there will be very few growing pains… they might not even notice when their children develop into fully functioning adults. With you… we didn't get that. You grew away from us, removed from our sight. Then the war happened—a war we weren't privy to; something tragic and fantastic that, to be honest, feels like a dream… hazy, foggy, outside of what we can understand. But to you two it was real, and it changed you, and we now must adapt our perception abruptly and, really…"

"In a way, we were holding on to the time when we were the ones to know what was best," her dad finished. "When our role was clear: to guide you and help you become a happy, fulfilled, and successful person."

"We don't know if there is room for us in your life, anymore," her mum said. "We know you don't need us at all, and that is heartbreaking."

Hermione's hands reached for one of each of her parents'. Ron's hand, now free, went to rub circles on her back. Tears were falling on her and her parents' faces.

"But I still want you in my life! I still want to hear what you have to say. I value your opinions! I simply ask that you let me decide what is right for me, even if I make mistakes sometimes. You still have a role in my life, and it's to support me, be with me."

"Of course we will," her dad said.

"We'll figure it out," Hermione's mum added, squeezing her hand.

A final, hopeful sob came out of Hermione's chest, taking with it the last crooked piece in her heart.

They were free.

AN: Extra long chapter to compensate for my absence?
I told you I wouldn't abandon this story /heart/. I can't believe it's been 3 and a half months since I last updated! Everything I've said before to explain my erratic posting continues to be true, but exponentially worse. On top of everything else, I need to study for a Terrible Exam. People, I'm stressed.
Good news? Next chapter is mostly about France and I CANNOT WAIT!
Hope you enjoy this new chapter. Please let me know if you do /heart/