Chapter 55
Christmas Eve
Author's Note: The cemetery in this chapter is fictional. The Birth-dates of Hermione's parents are also fictional and my own guesswork as to how old her parents are. Prepare for a long chapter! Like my longest chapter ever. 7000+ words! My new record!
Warning: This chapter is extremely emotional. I write this warning as I write the cemetery section of this chapter, and tears are streaming down my face.
(Hermione's PoV)
On Friday, Hermione woke in her bed to what sounded like rain falling. She looked up at the roof above the bedroom, but saw no sign of raindrops sliding down the canvass. Also, it was much too cold these days, and there was always a better chance of snow than rain. She sat up and looked around the tent. Then she realized that the falling water was coming in the direction of the bathroom. She growled softly. How dare someone take a shower in there? This was her temporary bedroom and it had been made off-limits, ever since the number of the Burrow's inhabitants had temporarily grown in size.
On Wednesday afternoon, Bill and Fleur arrived, and they were not alone. Gabrielle, who now considered the whole Weasley family a big part of her own family now that her sister was married tone, had come along as well, and had replaced Hermione as a guest in Ginny's bedroom. Fred and George had arrived Thursday afternoon after temporarily closing their shop for the holidays. During dinner on Thursday evening, while everyone was in the kitchen enjoying dinner, Charlie showed up to the house. This surprised everyone, mostly his mother who had almost spilled her Onion Soup as she jumped up to hug her second-oldest son, because Charlie was never considered the type to come home too much, thanks to his job in Romania.
Ever since the arrival of these guests, it had been made a rule formed by Hermione and Mrs. Weasley that the tent's shower was off-limits, at least while Hermione was in there. As she wondered who could have possibly been thick enough to break that rule, the water slowed to a stop. A few moments later, draped from the waist down in a towel, Ron emerged from the canvas door that split the bathroom from the rest of the tent. Hermione felt warmth rise up her body to her cheeks as she looked at Ron. Thinking privately that it should be illegal to be that good-looking while soaking wet, she tried her best to look annoyed. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms for added effect, but she doubt this would help thanks to the blush that was filling her cheeks as she watched water droplets drip down Ron's abs.
"Good morning," Ron said, a smile crossing his face.
"What are you doing in here?" Hermione asked, still trying to feign anger, though she knew it was impossible; how could she be angry when her boyfriend was standing across the room with nothing on from the waist up?
"The shower in the Burrow is occupied so I came in here," Ron said. "I thought you would be okay with me coming in here."
"I – er – I – why would you be up at – what time is it?" she stammered, then glanced at her pocket-watch. "It isn't even seven yet."
"Have you forgotten what day it is?" Ron asked.
"Friday," Hermione said.
"Christmas Eve," Ron said, "Our six-month anniversary and the day you wanted to go see your parents. I told you I promised I would spend the whole day with you, because I knew today was going to be tough. But before I can do that, I need to get dressed. I'll just go back into the bathroom."
"Er – no need," Hermione said.
She took her wand and a moment later, the privacy curtain blocked her view of the rest of the tent.
"No peeking," Ron said, snickering.
"I already got a peek at you to last me for quite a while," Hermione said, blushing. "Have I told you that you have very nice abs?"
"Not in the past week," Ron said, chuckling.
Hermione grinned, though that grin didn't last for long. She sighed to herself and laid back on her pillow. He was right: she had forgotten what day it was. The six-month anniversary was something she and Ron both considered a big deal. The fact that it was on Christmas Eve was an added bonus. But she had forgotten that today would be the day she and Ron would visit Oxford Cemetery and see her parents' graves. She tried her best to hold back tears in her eyes right now, because she knew they would fall before the end of the day.
A couple minutes later, as she lay there, she heard Ron's footsteps walk closer to her bed.
"Do you want to get dressed now or wait for a few minutes?" he asked.
Hermione opened the curtains a bit and beckoned Ron over with a finger. He smiled and proceeded to lay down in the bed next to her. As she put his arms around him, she found that he was now wearing a buttoned down shirt and a pair of nice looking dress pants.
"You look dashing," Hermione said, "I almost feel guilty for inviting you to lay down in that outfit."
"Magic will fix any wrinkles so I'm not too worried," Ron said.
Hermione put her head in the crook of Ron's neck and casually slid her fingers down along the buttons on Ron's shirt. She could feel the muscles of his abs through the fabric, and she traced her fingers against the creases through it. His breath sped up a little, and Hermione could hear light moans escape his lips as her fingers grazed his skin through the thin fabric.
"Does your Mum know you're in here?" Hermione asked, in almost a whisper.
"I would think so seeing she was in the kitchen when I walked through it," Ron said. "But she knows how important this day is to you, so I don't think she'd bother us too much."
"It is important for both of us," Hermione said.
"You're sure you want to do this today?" Ron asked, "We could just spend the whole day in the tent. I'm sure the family wouldn't mind."
"I need to do this," Hermione said, "If I am going to be of any importance on our hunt, I need to get some finality, I guess you could say, between me and the loss of my parents. It will always be there, in my mind, but I need to push it back some so I can focus on other things."
"I'll be by your side today," Ron said, "I promise."
Hermione smiled and looked at him. "How did I get so lucky to ever meet you?" she asked.
He chuckled and she leaned toward his lips and grazed them lightly with her own. She rubbed her tongue along the edges of them, then kissed him softly. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she chuckled and backed away just enough as he tried to raise his head and return his lips to hers. She shook her head and sat up away from him.
"You're teasing me," Ron said.
"Good things come to those who wait," Hermione said.
"How long?" Ron asked.
"Impatient boy," Hermione said, chuckling, "But you must wait. I need to get ready for today."
"You better hope I don't splinch myself any today," Ron said. "I'm not going to be able to think straight when you just told me I have to wait to snog you. Can you give me any hints?"
"Let's just say I have yet to return my thanks enough for what you did for my birthday," Hermione said, "Now go, before your Mum doesn't allow you in this tent later tonight when it counts."
"Tonight?" Ron moaned.
"Mmhmm," Hermione said, "And if you behave, I'll give you my Christmas present early."
"Can I guess what it is?" Ron asked, "Because Ginny said something about lingerie yesterday."
"It is not lingerie!" Hermione growled, smacking Ron with her pillow. "You're lucky it isn't, because it was Ginny who had her eye on that store and not me."
Ron stared at Hermione for a moment, and his face glowed in recognition.
"I need to go check on Harry," Ron muttered.
He sat up and Hermione growled softly when he was able to get a soft peck in on her lips before she could get away. She smacked him with her pillow again, and he laughed and retreated from the bed in a haste.
"Remember to fix those wrinkles," Hermione reminded him in a sing-song voice.
She snickered when she heard Ron gasp and hastily mutter a spell, then she got up and proceeded to prepare for a shower and a nice change of clothes.
Half-an-hour later, she walked into the Burrow's kitchen, dressed in a black full-bodied dress that was warm enough for the winter season, but appropriately formal for a visit to a cemetery. Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, and was joined by his parents and Ginny and Harry. Hermione figured everyone else was probably still asleep.
"Good morning, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said, as Hermione sat down at the table, "Beautiful dress."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, "I bought it a few days ago while we were out. I had no outfit for this occasion and I wanted something appropriate."
"Do you need me there today?" Harry asked, "Because I would go."
"I'll be okay with Ron," Hermione said.
She smiled at Ron, and he smiled back, taking one of her hands under the table and squeezing it lightly.
"Remus is going along with you too," Mr. Weasley said. "For security. He says there is a chance Snatchers could be there waiting for you, but he doesn't want that to frighten you. He knows how important this is."
Hermione nodded, and as she picked up a breakfast bun with her free hand and bit into it, a thought came through her head.
"D-do you think, if any Snatchers are there," she said, "it would be the ones responsible for – for what happened to my parents?"
When she finished her sentence, she realized she shouldn't have said anything. Everyone in the room was looking at her.
"Hermione," Ron muttered, squeezing her hand again.
"I don't mean that in a way that I want to get revenge for what they did," Hermione said. "I just want to know who they are, and if someone else is responsible for their capture or –" she paused before she could say 'their murder' – "than I know they can't do any more harm."
"You shouldn't worry," Mr. Weasley said. "Remus says it is only a precaution. He expects that because of the holidays, the cemetery will have a few visitors, which is a good thing. Snatchers work in shadows and like to hide. Even though they have been known to hide amongst crowds, the cemetery would be far too open for them to do anything."
Hermione nodded. She was silent for the rest of the meal. After breakfast, Hermione sat in the living room with Ron, trying to prepare herself mentally as they waited for Remus. She looked around her surroundings, trying to calm herself down, but she felt so out of place dressed in all black. The living room had been decorated on Thursday, and everything looked so festive.
On the fireplace, hung a number of homemade stockings, each with names of every person that was currently in the house at this time. The large Christmas tree was real, and had come from the edge of the Weasley's lot near the lake. Every year, the Weasleys had a Christmas tradition. Just after Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would plant pine trees on the edge of the lake, with a bit of magic fertilizer. Whichever tree was the most beautiful by the following December would be chosen as the family Christmas tree. It was almost completely decorated, except Hermione noticed there was one thing missing.
"Where's the top decoration for the tree?" Hermione asked, nodding to the Christmas tree.
"You're really going to need to get used to some of our traditions, Hermione," Ron said. "We don't place the final decoration on the tree until Christmas morning."
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"You don't know?" Ron said, then a glow of recognition crossed his face, "That's right, you haven't been to a Christmas celebration here at the Burrow in a while. Guess you'll just have to wait and find out."
"Oh, I see," Hermione said, crossing her arms against her dress, "This is payback for me teasing you earlier."
"I'll get that payback tonight," Ron said, grinning.
"Oh, really!" Hermione said, laughing and slapping Ron's hand playfully.
Ron nodded and he pecked her on the lips. She scowled.
"You keep doing that and I'm going to forget how much you want to snog me," Hermione said.
"You're flirting again," Ron said.
She let out another scowl, but it was buffeted by the sound of a CRACK of Apparation in the distance.
"Remus is here," Mrs. Weasley announced from the kitchen.
Ron stood up and offered his hand to Hermione. She inhaled and exhaled, and took his hand and stood up, then allowed him to lead her outside. Remus was still waiting at the top of the driveway when they walked up to him.
"You ready, Hermione?" Remus asked, his face glowing in sadness for her.
"I'm going to try to be," Hermione said.
"We'll use Side-along Apparation today," Remus said, "Just in case. There is a small grove of trees just outside the cemetery we can use."
Hermione nodded and took Remus' hand in her free hand. Remus counted down from three to one as Hermione prepared herself. At one, she felt her lungs collapse temporarily, and she closed her eyes as blackness surrounded her. A few moments later, she opened her eyes and was standing just inside a grove of trees. Beyond the trees, and across a street, was a long iron, black fence, with a wrought-iron gateway that led into the cemetery. She had been here once before when her Daddy's own father had passed away a couple years before she started at Hogwarts.
It had been one of the last times she had ever visited her extended family. After her parents had realized she was a witch, it was agreed that they didn't want the secret of the wizarding world to be revealed to her other family members, so she mostly avoided them. It was hard for a while, but she had become used to it.
Ron squeezed her hand, and Hermione looked at him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and she nodded, ready to go forward. Remus walked ahead, and Hermione and Ron followed him toward the cemetery. It took a little bit of a walk to get to the small plot of land where the graves were. She felt her throat tighten as she saw a short distance away the headstone that belonged to her grandfather. She allowed Ron's hand to leave hers and she slowly walked forward, keeping her eyes on her grandfather's grave, not daring to look anywhere else just yet.
And then she saw it. One large headstone, made from a gray, black and silver marble lay just a short distance away from her grandfather's grave. It was big enough to allow two caskets in front of it. Hermione felt tears fall down her cheeks, as she slowly walked over to it and sank to her knees in front of the headstone. Her eyes slowly traced the etched words in front of her.
Richard Matthew Granger
BORN:: 16 January 1954
DIED:: 31 October, 1997
Loving Son, Husband And Father
Helen Jane Granger
BORN: 21 June 1958
DIED: 31 October 1997
Loving Daughter, Wife and Mother
Death is eternal life, thy shouldn't weep.
"Thy shouldn't weep," Hermione murmured, shaking her head, "Impossible. Not today."
She traced her fingers along the indentations of her father's and mother's names, tears falling to the earth below her knees.
"Mum, Daddy," she said, surprised she could talk over the sobs coming from her throat. "I'm trying to be strong for the both of you, but – but I don't know how I can. I don't know what to say, so please pardon me if I start to babble. I know you never approved of that because it was a sign that I was hyper. I don't feel very hyper right now. So I am going to try to get through this as best I can."
She inhaled and exhaled.
"Earlier this year, a few weeks after – after everything happened," she continued, "I came across this story in a book a wise man gave me. It talks about a gift from Death and – and a gift of resurrection. It - it scared me because I know even magic can't bring back anyone from the – from the d-dead. And today, as I sit here talking to you as if you were still here, I find myself wishing that I could talk to you – face to face. Even if it was just for a moment, I wish I could hear your voices. It is greedy of me. It isn't something I should wish for. The character in the story this gift of resurrection was given to – terrible things happened to him. There is a phrase I hear about a lot these days... and it goes 'there are some things worse than death' – but –"
More tears leaked from Hermione's eyes and she wiped her wet nose on the sleeve of her dress, and inhaled, trying to continue.
"- but how can that be, Daddy?" she sobbed, "How can that be, Mum, when I've never felt so bad in my life than I have these past few months? I wish you could tell me that. I wish you could tell me what is worse than death because I can't see it right now."
She cleared her throat and looked around.
"Um," she said, trying to find a way to say something else, not wanting this one-sided conversation to be over, "It's Christmas Eve."
She nodded and tried to smile.
"Remember what we always do on Christmas Eve?" she asked. "We set up the tree and the decorations in the living room and – and it always has to be perfect. It has to be the perfect tree, and the stockings have to be straight and ready for Father Christmas to fill them. You always clean the fireplace, Daddy, because I am always so afraid Father Christmas will get dirty, and he has so many more places to visit before he is finished, and he would be dirty the rest of his trip, all because of our fireplace."
She chuckled softly trying to make herself not cry any more; she wasn't sure if she had any more tears to spare. She looked over her shoulder and saw Remus standing near by.
"See that man?" Hermione, asked nodding to Remus, "He is one of my Professors and a very good friend of mine. He was the one who found you when – and he told me. I yelled at him, out of anger for what he told me – but he was there for me. You'd like him, Daddy, I think. He is going to be a Daddy soon too, so you have some things in common."
Remus smiled and he knew she had heard what he said. She then saw Ron standing there. His eyes were wet too, and she knew he had been listening to everything she was saying. She beckoned him forward and he kneeled down next to her.
"You remember Ron, right?" Hermione said, as she looked back at the headstone. "If there is anything I regret more in my life right now, it is that you only got to chance to meet him before he learned how I feel about him. I love him, Daddy. He is everything you are, and I hope you approve of him. He loves me and he has been there for me through all of this. I don't know what I'd do without him. He is the only thing getting me through all of this right now. I could never, ever repay him for that."
She looked back at Ron, and he smiled at her. She motioned to the headstone and he raised his eyebrows questioningly. Then understanding crossed his face, and he cleared his throat.
"I'll take good care of her, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Ron said, "She means everything to me, just like I know she does to you. My mother already sees her as a part of my family. I'm going to help her through this, but I hope you help me some. She needs you as much as she needs me."
He looked around and stealthily took out his wand, then pointed it at the headstone. Hermione's eyes filled with tears again as a Christmas wreath slowly appeared and formed in front of the grave.
"I-I'm not sure how long it will be until I can come back here," Hermione said, "But I will. I promise. I'll never forget you and I promise I'm going to be the girl you knew I'd be when I grew up. I have a lot of growing up to do. I know that. But I'm going to do it... for you."
She leaned toward the headstone and kissed the top of it softly. Tears leaked from her eyes and they dripped across the slick marble. She backed up and laid her head on Ron's shoulder, as she just stared at the grave for a few minutes in silence. After those few minutes, she pushed herself up off the ground and backed away. She took her wand from the pocket of her dress and made a small white rose appear.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy, Mum," she said, as she set the rose on top of the headstone, "I love you."
When Hermione and Ron returned to the Burrow, everyone was now awake and trying to get themselves into the cheer of Christmas. Hermione sat with Ron in the living room, and for a while she tried to participate in the discussion, but when Mr. Weasley decided to tell a tale of Father Christmas, and Hermione realized it was too different from the one her own father had told her around this time, she couldn't take it and she excused herself from the group. Everyone there looked was family, even Harry who considered the Weasleys his only family. And even though she was considered an honorary family member, this brought too many memories back of her Christmases with her parents.
She returned to the tent, and changed her clothes into something more comfortable that she could stay in for the remainder of the day. As she lay down on the bed, Ron walked into the tent and over to her. She patted her hand on the bed and he laid down and put his arms around her as she cuddled against him, pressing her back into his chest.
"I-I'm sorry," she said, "You promised to spend time with me all day, and I'm taking you away from your family traditions."
"Tomorrow is for family," Ron said, "Today is for you."
"If I fall asleep, will you stay with me?" Hermione asked.
"Always," Ron said.
Hermione smiled. "Even with the fact that your mother could see us?" she asked.
Ron kissed her on the cheek. "Always," he repeated, breathing the word into her hear.
"No flirting," Hermione said, "Tonight, I promise."
"I can wait," Ron said.
Hermione smiled and relaxed her head in the warmth of his neck and chest. She closed her eyes and fell asleep...
… and she was nine years old again. It was Christmas Eve, and she was wide awake in her bed. It was almost midnight, the clock read eleven fifty-five, and her Daddy had come in to her room three times trying to get her to sleep: first with a cup of milk, then with his own rendition of The Night Before Christmas, and finally his favorite lullaby. But she was still wide awake, staring at the red numbers on her digital clock. She knew what was coming at midnight, because he would always come at midnight. No matter how many houses he had to go to around Oxford, Father Christmas would always be at her house at midnight... but she had always fallen asleep by this time. Tonight, she wasn't going to fall asleep. Not until she saw him.
Eleven fifty-seven. Eleven fifty-eight. Hermione could feel her breathing intense as she stared wide-eyed at the clock. Eleven fifty-nine. Any moment now.
Midnight... and she heard footsteps in the house. She looked at the door of her bedroom. Her Daddy and Mum were always asleep at this time of night, and there house was safely secured from intruders... everyone but Father Christmas.
She gasped and slowly stood up from her bed then silently crept toward her bedroom door. She hissed slightly, as the door opened with a creak! She slowly walked down the stairs, her pyjama socks muffling her footsteps as she went down each step. She crept across the wooden floor of the entrance hall, and over toward the wall near the archway leading into the living room. She heard more footsteps and she muffled her hand over her mouth to hold a gasp. She inched closer toward the opening of the door and her eyes widened. Standing there in a red suit, his back facing her, was Father Christmas. She squeaked lightly... after all these years, she had finally seen him! That bully in her class at primary school, Jimmy Tolby, was wrong!
Father Christmas turned and his eyes widened as he saw her standing there. She gasped. He wasn't supposed to see the children! She wasn't supposed to see him!
"Hermione?" he said.
Her eyes widened "Y-you know my name?" she asked.
"I – um, yes, I know every child's name," he said.
"But there are so many!" Hermione said, "How is that possible?"
His eyes twinkled and his smile glowed through his beard.
"Your father said you were too smart for your age," he said.
"You know Daddy?" Hermione asked.
"He saw me when he was your age," he said.
"But Daddy never wants me to see you," Hermione said, "He always makes me go to bed."
"Shouldn't you be asleep now?" he asked.
"Um... oops... I guess so," Hermione said, timidly.
"Well, then, tuck in," he said, "Merry Christmas, Mione.
Hermione gasped softly. How did he know her nickname? Her father gave her that! She shook her head... he knew everything right?
"Merry Christmas," she said.
She backed away slowly and he winked, and she noticed his eyes were very blue... and it was only years later when she realized his eyes resembled that of her father's quite a bit...
Hermione blinked her eyes open and looked down at herself. Ron's arms were no longer around her. She sat up quickly and looked around. She was alone in the bed, and it was surrounded by the privacy curtains. She moved her hand slowly toward the curtain, and as she did, she was aware she could hear music playing somewhere nearby. She looked through the opening in the curtain, and found on the pocket-watch that it was past seven in the evening. She had been asleep for quite a while!
She turned her head toward the rest of the tent and saw that candles were sitting in the center of the table across the room. Her eyes widened and she stood up slowly, then walked over toward the table. The music was coming from a radio on the the counter near the sink in the kitchen, and she recognized Celestina Warbeck's voice. She heard footsteps crunching through the snow, and looked at the opening of the tent. Ron walked through the opening, carrying a tray, and she could see two covered plates, a jug and two glasses on the tray. He was had changed his clothes, and was now wearing jeans, as well as a Weasley Christmas sweater he had received the previous year, and it could still fit him. A golden 'R' glittered on the front of it.
"Oh, you're awake," Ron said.
"I thought I told you this was my night to plan for you," Hermione said.
"I know," Ron said, "But you had a rough day today, and you slept for quite a while. Mum was preparing dinner anyway, and I told her I wanted you and me to eat in here."
"I should be mad at you," Hermione said, "but this is too sweet of you."
"You can still punish me," Ron said, with a smirk, as he set the plates and glasses on the table.
"You're vile," Hermione said, then smiled, "And for that, you have to wait until after dinner."
"Have a nice nap?" Ron asked.
"I dreamed of Father Christmas," Hermione said, as she sat at the table. "Or I thought I did. I was nine in my dream, and at that time, I thought it was Father Christmas. But it was really my father."
Ron stared at her, with raised eyebrows, as he lifted up the lid on the plate. The meal was shepherd's pie and fixings along the side. One of Mrs. Weasley's favorite recipes.
"This looks wonderful," Hermione said, before taking a bite and moaning softly at the taste.
"No flirting," Ron said, chuckling, as he sat down with his own plate, "I want to do more about this dream."
"It was more like a memory than a dream," Hermione said.
"How do you know it was your father?" Ron asked, "Wait, you saw him?"
"Mmhmm," Hermione said, "At midnight when I was nine."
"You're right," Ron said, nodding, "It was probably your father."
"Of course it was," Hermione chuckled, "Who else would it be? Father Christmas. Not possible."
"You're right," Ron said, "Because Father Christmas puts Memory Charms on every kid who sees him so they don't remember seeing him."
Hermione paused, her forkful of shepherd's pie frozen in mid-air.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Didn't you listen to my father's story?" Ron asked, "You were there for a bit of it. Father Christmas is a wizard. He uses a Time-Turner so he is at every house at midnight, and he uses the Floo Network so he can get to every house – only houses with fireplaces of course."
"You're talking like he is real," Hermione said.
"He is," Ron said, "Everyone knows that. But only a few people in the world have ever met him and remember it. He has to introduce himself to every Minister of Magic in the world that gets appointed, so he can assure them he would never break the Statute of Secrecy."
""He's real?" Hermione asked.
"That's what I just said," Ron said.
Hermione went silent, as she finished with her meal. When she took her last bite, Ron stood up and walked over to her, then offered his hand. Hermione raised her eyebrows, then realized what he wanted. She blushed and stood up. He led her a bit away from the table and put his arms around her waist. She put her arms around his neck, and smiled as she lay her head in the crook of his neck.
"So... who did I see when I was nine?" Hermione asked.
"If you stuck around for my father's story, you would have heard that explanation," Ron said. "As my father says, every Christmas Eve 'if you ever think you see Father Christmas in your life, it is your choice to believe if it is him or someone posing as him. Just know that seven times out of ten, it is probably him.'"
"You need to work on your humor, Ron," Hermione said.
"Seeing is believing, Hermione," Ron said.
Hermione considered this. She had grown up for years believing the man was Father Christmas until one year when she had really come to the decision that he could not exist, and she had seen her father that night. He had called her Mione, hadn't he? His eyes were like her father's.
"Can I give you your Christmas present tonight?" Ron said, as he swayed with her on the spot.
"Only if I can give you yours," Hermione said.
Ron smiled. He led her over to her bed and she took a small bag from her trunk, where her present was hidden so it wouldn't reveal what she had given him until the moment she gave it to him. She then sat down on the bed and Ron sat beside her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that was hidden in his fist. He opened his hand and Hermione's eyes widened.
Until now, she had temporarily forgotten that moment in Diagon Alley when she had seen him in the jewelry shop, and the discussion she had with Ginny after they had seen him. Now that all seemed to come back in waves as she saw the small box, colored periwinkle-blue, her favorite color, in front of her. She looked up at him, and he opened it. She looked back down at the box, and saw a silver band with runes around it. Ron picked it up from the box and put it on Hermione's appropriate finger.
"It's -" Hermione said, "It's a -"
"Promise ring," Ron and Hermione both said.
Ron looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"You know about this?" he asked.
Hermione chuckled and Ron stared at her. She took out the small box, colored Chudley Cannon orange, from her bag, then opened it. It was almost identical to the one in the blue box.
"You got me the same thing," Ron said.
Hermione laughed, wiping happy tears from her eyes, as she put her gift on Ron's ring finger. Hermione studied the ring and she recognized the runes.
"I didn't realize this until now," she said, "The runes on these rings... they match and they're familiar. I'd have to check it Spellman's Syllabary, but if I'm correct, these rings are enchanted."
"Enchanted?" Ron asked.
"If we wear these rings," Hermione said, "And at any point or are separated from our soul-mate -"
She looked at Ron and he smiled.
"- we can find each other to the point where we're worried about them," Hermione said, "It is rumored the ring will lead us to them. If the runes really work. Or if we're in danger, it would somehow let us become aware of that. In theory anyway."
"How?" Ron asked.
"I guess we'd have to find out," Hermione said.
"No, thank you," Ron said, "Because I wouldn't dream of separating from you or putting you in danger."
Hermione grinned. She looked from his eyes to his lips and felt her mouth water as she looked at him. She leaned toward him, cupping his face in her hands and kissed him softly on the lips. He returned the kiss and she backed away.
"No-o-o," she said, in a sing-song voice, "What did I tell you?"
Ron chuckled and became limp against her touch. Hermione smiled and pressed her lips against his again. She pushed him back against her pillow on the bed and deepened the kiss, rubbing her tongue against his lips and gradually feeling them become numb against her touch. She straddled a leg over his stomach, so she was sitting on him. He groaned, and she scoffed.
"No noises," she said.
"You sat on my full stomach, love," Ron said, "That was an involuntary groan. My abs only go so far, you know."
"Mmm, how far?" Hermione asked.
Ron raised his eyebrows, and Hermione traced her fingers against his shirt, down the edge of the letter 'R'.
"Here?" Hermione asked, teasing her finger in the hole in the middle of the top of the letter.
She moved her fingers lower, toward the bottom of his sweater, tracing them along it. She moved long enough to lift his shirt toward his head, and when he tried to lift it, himself, over his head, she stopped him and kissed his lips through the fabric of the sweater. He chuckled and she pulled his shirt over his head and off onto the bed, then kissed his lips again. He immediately let her tongue enter his mouth, and she teased her tongue along the roof of his mouth, before she backed away and kissed his chin. She kissed his jaw and moved her lips to the top his chest. She only noticed then, for the very first time, that he had a very thin layer, like peach-fuzz of ginger hair on his chest. It tickled her lips as she grazed over it. She raised her head and lowered her hand to his chest, tracing her fingers along the lines of his abs.
"Tickles," he said, chuckling.
"Too bad," she said.
She traced her finger along the rest of his abs, allowing the edges of her new promise ring to graze the edge of his abs. Her hand then traveled down to his naval, and she moved her finger around it in circles. She chuckled when she heard him moan at her touch, and she leaned back toward him and kissed him softly again. He returned the kiss, but she moved her lips across his jawline and toward his ear, tugging slightly on his right ear with her lips. She grinned when she heard him try to hold back another moan, and she moved her lips to his neck in between his jaw and shoulder-blade.
"I thought – you said – no love-bites?" Ron said, gasping lightly, as her lips grazed his neck.
"Mmm, Fleur probably has a better cure than my charms," Hermione said, "I imagine this happens to Bill a lot."
Ron snickered.
"I'll have to talk to him tonight," he said.
She grinned and pressed her lips against his neck. When she was satisfied she'd leave her mark, she backed away and laid down against the bed, allowing him kiss her on his own free will. Only when he was out of breath from kissing her, did he back away, and she snuggled up against him.
"Mmm," she said, "I don't want this night to end. What would you say if I allowed you to sleep in here tonight?"
"That you would find out what our rings did under the threat of violence, thanks to my Mum?" Ron asked.
Hermione chuckled. She raised her hand to her face and looked at her ring. She put her ring finger on his lips and he kissed it softly. As he did, she, once again, recalled the conversation with Ginny. She released her finger from his lips and she kissed him softly.
"I have a confession to make," she whispered, backing away from him.
"Okay," Ron said.
"Me and Ginny saw you in Diagon Alley when you were purchasing this," Hermione said, "Though I didn't know what you were getting me."
"Harry let you see me?" Ron asked.
"Accidentally," Hermione said.
"Did you have any thoughts on what I was getting you?" Ron asked.
"Ginny did," Hermione said, "But – er – I'm not sure if I should say it."
"You can tell me," Ron said, "If you want it, I'll buy it for you. I'll give it to you tomorrow if you want it."
"She – erm – thought you were getting me a ring," Hermione said, "But – er – a different kind."
Ron stared at Hermione, his eyebrows raised in question. His face then glowed in recognition.
"Ginny thought," he said, "you thought -"
"For a moment," Hermione said.
"Did you want that?" Ron asked.
"I don't know," Hermione said.
"What would you have said if – if this ring was different?" Ron asked.
"I-I don't know," Hermione said, "You don't know how difficult it is for me to say that either. I'm not trying to say that negatively Because on one hand, we're far too young and my father would – well, you know what the locket said to me? I kind of imagined it like that."
"And on the other hand?" Ron asked.
"I remembered what happened when Bill and Fleur announced their engagement," Hermione said, "And what your mother kept saying... how they married young because of the war... and how Remus and Dora married two weeks after their engagement, partially because they're expecting, and partially, I think because of the war. And I wondered if that was on your mind. And then... I wondered if it was on my mind as well. And I remembered how I said I didn't want you to refer to me as a Weasley just yet."
"That's not really a definitive answer," Ron said.
"I think," Hermione said, looking into Ron's eyes, "I would have told you to ask me again at a later time when we both knew what my answer would be and neither of us had any doubts of that."
Ron raised his eyebrows, and Hermione kissed his forehead and then his lips briefly.
"But tonight," she said, kissing him again, "here – right now – I'm pleasantly happy and content at the moment to have this promise between the two of us. And that I'm happy to say I love you more than you could ever imagine."
She looked in his eyes, almost afraid of what his reaction would be, and she wondered if she should have never made the confession she had. What had it meant for him – for them?
He nodded, and she felt a wave of relief wash through her body.
"I love you too," he said, "that's my promise to you."
Hermione smiled and kissed him softly again. They cuddled there in each others arms, having small talk and snogs until Hermione was about to fall asleep, and Ron said he couldn't stay there any longer. She smiled, and told him the ring he gave her was enough to let her sleep that evening.
-
Whew this chapter was really long! I'm so proud of it. It is as perfect as I wanted it to be.
As I said in the beginning author's note/warning, part of the chapter made me cry while writing it. I'm sure a fair share of you now know it was the long speech Hermione had in front of her parents' grave. It was so hard for me to write, because I felt so many tears with many lines.
I'm sure to some of you it was rather obvious that the two gifts would be promise rings and they would match. You were right, but I love the "confession" discussion.
Hermione's dream when she was nine surprised me, and I only thought of it as I wrote it, because I wanted something between her nap and the dinner/dance/gifts portion.
Next chapter is Christmas, and for those who want more Harry, I'm going to focus the chapter more on him, since Christmas Eve was for Ron and Hermione. I really dislike writing Christmas parties and stuff, because I am horrible at it, especially presents, but I am going to try my best. It will definitely be shorter than this chapter. This is probably going to be my longest chapter of the story... or like ever! Since this chapter holds my new personal record for longest chapter ever. Wow!
Hope you loved this chapter as much as I did.
Note: The epitaph "Death is eternal life, thy shouldn't weep." is from a list of one of many common epitaphs in the world.
