Chapter 21

It had been nine days. Nine jam-packed days of rehabilitative routines from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning to the second he closed them again at night. They'd been able to keep everything private, with only the small group knowing about Ron's recovery. That first morning the healer had proposed a rigorous rehab schedule. Ron literally had exercises planned every minute of the day except for eight hours of sleep at night and a two hour rest period from one to three each day for some recovery time before the afternoon exercises began. Even meal times were part of his rehab – swallowing, drinking chewing, holding utensils, cutting his meat, spreading butter on his bread – all of those requiring certain muscle movements to be successful.

But, they'd all agreed they wanted to aim for the challenging goal: leave St. Mungo's within ten days.

Ten days would be long enough to do the rehab, but it would be short enough that they had an actual shot at keeping everything a secret, ensuring no one – including the rest of the family – would know about the change in status until he was home. And it had bloody well worked. He could sit and stand up on his own. He could walk very short distances and had even managed a shower on his own, which in many ways he decided was the tragic side of the week. But, he could do it. He could piss and poop on his own like an actual toddler, and he could eat. That had been bloody brilliant. His mind and mouth wanted to eat everything he had been craving for nine months, but then his stomach protested, insisting on time to adjust to digesting actual food again.

Ron could even speak some. It took a lot of work, and his voice didn't really sound like himself, but he was able to communicate some basic things. He'd been frustrated that his voice hadn't come back as quickly as the other skills. But, the healer assured him that his voice was unique as that it wasn't simply one muscle to re-engage. She helped him learn to press on his throat some to ease the scratchiness in his voice. And the most bizarre thing was how they insisted it would be easier to sing than speak, and they were right. And while he had initially tried to whisper to avoid the weird sounds, the healer and nurses were adamant that he either speak properly, sing or write on paper, but he was not under any circumstance to whisper as it could make it worse. But now, they had made it to their last night in the hospital room.

While Ginny, Neville and George helped by being with Ron through different cycles of exercises, Hermione and Harry had been able to find a small bungalow in a London suburb. It was a muggle neighborhood, which helped them all feel like they had a shot at privacy, though with them, it was never guaranteed. It was small, but Hermione was thrilled to find a place that was only one level so that Ron wouldn't have any stairs to navigate at home. The whole place was wheel chair accessible, even the kitchen and bathroom. While Ron was able to walk now, he had limited stamina and was still using the wheel chair at times. The house wasn't large, but there was a nice master bedroom, a small office and a tiny guest room. But, Hermione's favorite part was the small walled-in garden area out back where Ron would be able to do his exercises out in the sunshine without nosy neighbors watching. The previous owner had been a retired veteran who loved gardening, so the backyard had several raised platform gardens full of gorgeous rose bushes and other rambling plants.

While Hermione didn't go crazy decorating everything, she did make sure to get some simple kitchen items and a very comfortable muggle recliner. Then Harry helped her move some basic pieces from her parents' home including their bed, a dining room table and chairs, a couch and coffee table. This also left plenty of space for the various pieces of exercise equipment Ron was using for his rehab. When everything was in place, the two of them had looked around at the new place, and Hermione slumped at the blandness of it all.

"It doesn't really look like a home yet," Hermione sighed.

"Hermione, give yourself a break. You've only had the keys for a couple days," Harry said.

"Maybe once we are home he can do his exercises while I paint the walls and add some life to it."

"Do you want me to paint the walls before he comes home?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that, Harry."

"I know, but I want to. So, Chudley Cannon orange in all the rooms?"

She punched his arm.

"Well, how about I'll just get Gin to pick."

"OK – but, make them light or cheery colors, ok? Nothing dark or dreary. Pale yellow or pale blue, or – well – just cheery, ok? We've had nothing but charcoal grey hospital walls for a long time."

"Sure," Harry grinned. "No dungeon colors."

She smiled at him.

"It'll be brilliant," Harry said.

"Hard to believe we will actually be here soon," Hermione said, the wonder evident in her eyes.

"You won't just live here," he said. "This will be your first real home together."

She smiled, the tears streaming down her cheeks as Harry hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. She cried happy tears a bit longer, and then finally she'd flooed back to St. Mungo's, and Harry set off to find paint.

Ron looked up as the hospital room door opened, already having heard Hermione's unique footsteps coming down the hall.

"How has the afternoon gone?" she asked as she took off her jacket.

"Best rehab I've gotten to do yet," George grinned. "The assignment today was eating and playing board games. Literally. Apparently it helps with manual dexterity or pincer grip or who knows. But, I get good brother points in your eyes while I got to hang out with Ron, eat good food and get my arse kicked at chess."

Hermione grinned and glanced at the grinning ginger brothers. Then Ron stood up, slowly walked over to Hermione and kissed her.

"Well, hello to you to," Hermione said aloud as she also quickly cast the legillimency spell.

"Missed you, but loved being able to welcome you back properly," he said silently.

George watched the two of them make eyes at each other and then quickly announced, "Well, that's my cue. I think my duties here are done for now. But if anything changes and you need me to come back, just let me know."

"Thanks, George," Hermione said.

"You are most welcome."

"Thanks," Ron scratched out, reaching his hand out to his brother.

George was caught off guard as it was the first time he had heard Ron speak. He clutched Ron's hand and pulled him into an embrace, not saying anything as he gently hit Ron's back in that way grown men awkwardly attempt to show each other affection. Then without another word, George turned and left.

Ron slid his arm around Hermione's waist as she leaned into him.

"Good day, huh?" she asked softly.

Ron simply nodded in response.

"Can you believe it's our last night here?"

He smiled thoughtfully and silently said, "Part of me can't wait to get out of here and back to the real world. But part of me will remember this little room as our first home together."

"I hope you'll like our new home," she offered.

"I know I will, Hermione. You managed to make this sterile room a comfortable home with books and a couch and that amazing muggle chair. I am sure whatever you arranged will be more than wonderful."

"Well, either way you'll see tomorrow."

"Yes I will."

"So, is it just the two of us for dinner?"

"No, actually. I asked Neville and Alice to join us for dinner. I hope that's ok?"

"That's brilliant," Hermione grinned. "I'll just enlarge the table for us. Should I ask Essie for help with the food?"

"No, Neville is bringing the take away."

"Thanks. A really perfect plan for the evening."

He kissed her cheek, and then they prepared for their guests to arrive.