Chapter 25 – Brothers and Sisters (and Bookshelves)

Shortly after receiving the troubling information about Draco, Harry got an owl from Luna Lovegood telling him Hermione showed up at her house all alone and barefoot. There was something about worms and slime, but Harry just skimmed the letter and then Apparated straight to the Lovegoods.

An hour or so later, he and Hermione arrived back to the flat with Hermione carrying more books in her arms than the time she went to the Hogwarts library.

"So what happened?"

Hermione sighed deeply as she set her armful of books down on the coffee table with a thud. She thought of dismissing the subject, not talking about it at all, forgetting the whole damn thing entirely.

Maybe it was the conversation she had with Luna that made her crave nothing but honesty.

"Ron and I..."

Harry went red in the face, not sure he wanted to hear details of their previous night, which they had obviously spent together.

"We had a big fight. A bad one," she added and wiped her eyes. "He found out about the engagement before I could tell him and he lost it."

"Oh. Yeah, I can see how that has upset him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, back before you guys were together, he had terrible insecurity when it came to you. He thought you fancied me, or anyone else for that matter, and it was always difficult for him to handle doubts and fears of losing you. I think he thought you didn't tell him because you don't really care for him in that way."

"That's ridiculous, I do care for him that way, and I couldn't have expressed that more clearly, especially last night!" Hermione snapped, flushed in the face, but feeling angrier than she was embarrassed. "Why is that not enough for now? Why does he have to ask me to marry him when we just-"

"He did what?"

"He was fuming," she said as she crossed her arms. "But then he asked me if I still wanted to marry him, basically gave me an ultimatum. Marriage now or nothing."

"Blimey," Harry said quietly, torn between shock and nervous laughter.

"And I said of course not!" Hermione went on, throwing her arms up in the air. "I like him, so much, and I've been wondering about this engagement and relationship for days now, but we can't just jump into it, we need to take our time."

"And did you tell him that?"

"No," she said gruffly, crossing her arms again. "I don't need to explain myself to him. He should know better."

Harry groaned inwardly. It was insane that his two best friends were back at it again – falling into ridiculous misunderstandings and refusing to break the chain of miscommunication because of their stubbornness. It made him feel irritated and oddly young again.

"I need to leave," Hermione blurted out.

"What?" he snapped. "No way."

"Harry, I can't stay...I'm so tired," she said and Harry realised that she looked it too. There were dark circles under her eyes. "I need time and space. I want to be alone. I don't want him to find me here, although I'm not sure he will even try," she added with a tang of bitterness to her voice.

"I can't let you go anywhere on your own. It could be very dangerous." Harry felt himself going pale, slightly shaking.

"I'll go to a hotel. Put protective enchantments on me, I have a list of some that you can use, I found them in my old notebooks."

"You seem like you've thought this through," Harry said, sitting down on the sofa and running a hand through his hair. He knew he couldn't let Hermione go. He also knew that if her mind was made up, it would be difficult to stop her.

"I'm going whether you like it or not," she said quietly. He heard in her tone a plea to understand. Still he couldn't relent so easily and kept an impassive face.

Hermione sighed and went to the fireplace, watching the moving photographs of the Weasleys, Harry and Ginny, and also of herself. The happiness and comfort radiating from them almost reached out and touched her.

"It's like being suspended in between,"she said. Harry looked up at her. "My life before doesn't matter since it didn't even exist. I feel nothing, no connection to that. It's actually quite funny to think that had it not been for Ron and that accident, I'd have kept living like that for the rest of my life. Scary." Her voice trailed off before she started speaking again. "With you all, there is a connection. There has been from the start and maybe I can build on that, but..."

Harry joined her by the fireplace and observed the photographs as well. They stood just like that for a time, two best friends sharing a moment, Harry wishing he could share the load. He would never forget the time they had spent travelling the country, hungry, exhausted and hopeless, and what was worst of all, without Ron. She had been the only one back then that he could lean on. A sister he never had. She was one of the strongest people he had ever known, and he ached to see her so vulnerable and lost.

"All I'm asking for is a little time," she whispered.

Harry let out a sigh of an argument lost. "Show me the list of enchantments."

That evening Ron was finally looking at some of the things that Bill had brought a couple of days ago. The chest was full of letters (with a pang he realized that most of them were from Hermione over the summers when they were still at Hogwarts), old school documents and qualification papers from his Auror job.

Arthur was with him in the sitting room, helping him sort through it all. A plate of home-made Victoria sponge was on the table between them, along with two mugs of tea.

He tried to keep his mind blank, but he couldn't help being angry with himself as well as everything else.

The afternoon kept replaying in his mind - how he had walked away from Hermione, how he was torn between feeling guilty and feeling as though she had deserved it, how he had idiotically asked her to marry him, and how she had refused.

Ron felt again that hollowness in the chest and tried to shake the thoughts of it away.

Just as he put Hermione's letters somewhere out of sight so that his insides wouldn't churn so much, he took a scrap of paper with a tall bookshelf design drawn on it. There were measurements as well as a very detailed drawing of a hammer, and notes explaining where to hold it and how to hold it, as if that was the thing that needed clarifying.

"What is this?" Ron asked Arthur, who peered at the paper through his glasses.

"Ah, that was fun. That, my boy, is a hammer and you use it to put together Muggle furniture. And not only that, if you don't like the location of a nail, you can use the other side of the hammer to pull the nail out. So nifty! I have a couple in the shed if you want to take a look," Arthur said in a low voice.

Ron looked from the paper to his father with amusement. "Thanks, dad, I am familiar with hammers, having lived like a Muggle for the past three years. Can't you just build a bookshelf using magic?"

"Of course you can."

"So why did I need this?"

"Oh, you wanted to build it by yourself for Hermione when you moved in together," Arthur said and immediately went red around his glasses. "Um, I mean..."

"Save it, dad, I know about us," Ron said glumly. He was about to stuff the papers away with the rest of Hermione's letters, but suddenly his mind underwent that familiar sensation of being tugged into the past, into visions and memories he couldn't remember but believed now were real.

He was in an airy room, see-through white curtains rippled in the breeze. An array of wooden pieces, flat and rectangular, lay in front of him on the hardwood floor. Kreacher's quilt and the rest of his and Hermione's stuff was still huddled on the side of the bed. They had just moved in, terrified and excited to finally live together and be engaged.

Ron still couldn't believe Hermione had said yes. They had been together since forever it seemed, yet sometimes he was still thinking she was too wonderful for him and too mental to actually want him.

But here they were, in their new house. Hermione had loved it and the only thing she had complained about was the lack of shelf space for her ever-growing library. Ron also knew that she read a lot before bed and in the morning before getting out of it, which resulted in stacks of books gradually growing into towers all around the bedroom. And so he resolved to build her a bookshelf because she often talked about how her father had built one when she was a child, and how much she had loved him doing it.

If Ron was to do it right, he had to do it the Muggle way. He gripped the hammer, a most curious instrument, and set to work.

"Ronald Weasley!"

Ron was immediately brought back to the present by the loud voice of his mother. He was dizzy from the sensation of what felt like actual memory inhabit his mind.

"What's wrong, Molly?" Arthur asked in alarm, but Molly was only staring daggers at her son.

"He kicked Hermione out of the house, that's what happened!"

Ron dropped the bookshelf sketch on the floor and stood up abruptly, red colouring his cheeks.

"You did what, son?" Arthur asked incredulously, turning to face Ron.

"I didn't-"

"Yes you did! I know you were arguing, but I didn't want to interfere, of course. I thought you would either sort it out or at least you'd make sure she got home safely through the Floo. But now, I just heard from Ginny you let her walk away, out of the Burrow's protection, all by herself, incapable of doing any magic. Do you realise how dangerous that was?" she asked angrily, walking around Arthur's armchair and slapping Ron with her dish towel in frustration.

Ron took three quick steps away from his seething mother. The truth was, this really hadn't occurred to him. Very quickly, he gulped down the sudden flood of shame.

"I thought she would just get back inside and use the Floo," he said desperately. "Is she alright?"

"Yes, thankfully she found her way to the Lovegoods and Harry took her from there, but to hear my son treating the woman he's supposed to care about this way..." Molly pressed a hand to her forehead and took in a breath.

"She lied to me! Just like all of you did," Ron spat, but in a shaky voice. His rage was still there, but the sudden worry about Hermione overwhelmed everything else.

"Never mind that, Ronald!" Molly shouted. "You don't throw out anyone over an argument. I will not have this!"

She strode toward him and Ron looked to his father for help, but Arthur seemed to be very interested in the bookshelf sketch and shrunk into his armchair as Molly chased Ron around the sitting room. She finally grabbed a hold of him and dragged him to the fireplace. "You go and apologize to Hermione now!"

"What? No, she doesn't want me to have anything to do with her, she made that pretty clear. And I didn't throw her out, she walked away herself."

"Because she's not okay! This must all be so confusing, and especially for Hermione who is struggling with magic and has lost her parents on top of it all. If you can't find it in you to understand that and deal with problems between you two, how do you ever hope to be a good husband to anyone?" Molly asked, her last words ending in a shrewd little laugh.

"So this is how women always act? It doesn't end when they finally grow up?"

Molly narrowed her eyes as he winced after realizing his very untimely 'women are crazy' reference.

"I am going to pretend I didn't hear that. No more talk, go!" She grabbed a handful of Floo, threw it in the fire and pushed Ron into the green flames without another word. Ron's head was spinning from the travel. At the sight of Harry's living room, he lunged forward and stumbled in. Crossing the room and the hall, he spotted Ginny's red hair in the kitchen, so he went there.

She was working quietly at the counter, making sandwiches with a grim look on her face.

"If you're looking for Hermione, she's gone," Ginny said quietly, not lifting her eyes.

Ron stood transfixed in the doorway as his knees buckled. He was still angry, and still couldn't figure out all the feelings of resentment and guilt he had, but the fact that she was really gone now struck him unexpectedly.

"What? Where? What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, Harry took her. She'll be safe wherever she is, but apparently she wants to be left alone for some time," she said and looked up at Ron with a hint of reproach in her eyes.

"Bloody hell," he said, leaning against the wall.

"I honestly don't get you...did you expect her to just throw herself at you and beg to be your wife again when she hardly knows you, given the circumstances?"

Ron mouthed empty words for a second. It seemed a bit unfair, his mother and sister ganging up on him like this. Maybe he had gone a little too far, but his anger was justified to a certain extent, and he knew that.

"She knew we were engaged for days! And she didn't say anything, even though we…uhm…" Ron went suddenly red in the face and his ears looked ready to emit steam.

"You what?"

"We might have gotten closer. A little bit. I dunno. The thing is," Ron went on, waving his hand and trying to get rid of the awkwardness in his voice, "we're in this not-knowing-our-past mess together! She found out something pretty significant about our past, not her past, but our past! And she kept it a secret! I mean, why didn't you tell me anyway?"

"I don't know!" Ginny said, setting the knife on the counter with a clatter. She turned to Ron and crossed her arms. "I'm a little angry with myself about that one, but it seemed too overwhelming in combination with everything else. She forgot you, okay?" Ginny said, a little too loudly, her face contorted with sadness as she looked at Ron. "It's terrible, but she did, and so did you. And I would love to tell you to go after her and just talk, and sort everything out, but…maybe you shouldn't. At least not for a while."

Ron wanted to argue but realized he had no words to say. He slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I guess I screwed up."

"Which part?" Ginny asked with raised eyebrows. Ron hid his face into his hands and groaned. "It's just..." Ginny was struggling to find the right words. "You have this crazy insecurity that makes you act like a fool sometimes."

Ron looked up at her with red tired eyes.

"I get it. I also had to compete with all you guys as my brothers. And then becoming Harry's girlfriend, I wasn't sure I could ever mean the same to him as you and Hermione did. I can see why you were jealous sometimes. And yes, pushing Hermione to give you an answer about your engagement was stupid, and I guess you did screw up, but you'll fix it. You're a Weasley and my brother, and you're a great guy even though sometimes you go to great lengths to hide it. And we'll pretend I never said this," Ginny added hastily when she spotted the small grin on Ron's face. "Here, have some dinner," she said, setting the plate with sandwiches on the table. "I reckon Mum punished you with no food this evening."

Instead of eating it, Ron pushed his sandwich all around the plate, supporting his chin with his hand, his elbow propped on the table. "The thing is, I'm not even sure if I can or want to fix it anymore. She said things along the lines of our relationship being in the past, one we can't even remember. Maybe only the existence of it once is not enough at this point."

Ginny placed a hand on his arm. "I thought you felt differently," she said sadly.

Ron imagined Hermione's face and how horrified she looked after he had asked her if she would still have him.

"Well maybe I was wrong."

They ate in silence as more words of regret hung in the air around them. Ginny watched her brother out of the corner of her eye, unconvinced by the forced smile he sometimes sent her way. Still, he seemed grateful he had found some understanding, and she was glad she could offer it to him. It was moments like these when she realized, again and again, just how much she had truly missed Ron.

All the bickering and arguing over the years just went out of the picture, and she could see all their shared time before Hogwarts. They had to stick together since they were both excluded from games of their older brothers because she was a girl and Ron was the youngest. Ron was actually the first that ever showed her how to fly a broom, although he would never admit to it in front of his brothers. And she was the one that got rid of all the spiders when they were near, never making fun of him for his phobia.

"Hey, enough with the sulking," she said suddenly, kicking him swiftly under the table. "I don't have Quidditch training tomorrow, what do you want to do? Practice magic or something?"

Ron thought about that for a minute. He could go to the joke shop or stay home and try to reason with his mother. He would mostly like to talk to Hermione, or maybe he wouldn't. He couldn't really tell. He had been so wrapped up in her and all the issues surrounding them both that he forgot about many other things. Perhaps Hermione was right that it wouldn't be the worst thing to set some things straight, things they left behind rather hastily after they had discovered the truth about themselves.

"I want to go to Edinburgh."

"To see Hermione?" Ginny flung her arms into the air and gave Ron an exasperated look. "Were you even listening to me? She's not even there."

"No, to see Chelsea."

Some time later Ron was lying in his bed at the Burrow, but the comfort of his old room eluded him. He felt silly for staying there still, like a lost little boy.

His fight with Hermione still left a horrible feeling in his stomach, but it put a lot of other things into perspective. He had to get moving. He would go to Scotland the next day, see Chelsea and finally talk to her, if she would listen. He would move out of the Burrow and start work again. He would focus on getting his life and mind back together because he was starting to feel he was not in a state where he could be who Hermione needed him to be. It was not only about her, though. He needed to be a better man, not a jealous and demanding one, but for that he needed time.

If Hermione needed space, he would give it to her, he would stay way.

Ron blinked at his ceiling, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, but he hastily rubbed his eyes, pushing down the heavy breath fighting to escape his lungs.

Ginny had told him that things will get better, but presently he couldn't see that happening after this afternoon and the things that were said. Hermione's answer rang in his ears as something irrevocable and final. And his pride didn't see a way back from that.

He glanced to his bedside table and at the vial of dream potion swirling inside. Ludwig had ordered them to take five drops before sleeping to stimulate their dream activity in the hopes of recalling real memories as well. Ron took the bottle and gulped down the full contents of it.

While he realized he needed to move on for the time being, a small part of him couldn't let go of the thought of Hermione, and he hoped to at least dream of her.

The potion began its work almost instantly, pulling him away from consciousness faster than ever before.

Ron was in the airy room again, trying to put planks and nails and beams together, and failing miserably. The bookshelf was somewhat coming together, although it was lopsided on one side and looked as though any increased weight could easily collapse it as if it were made from matchsticks.

He heard the faint pop of Hermione Apparating in the downstairs kitchen. Ron began scrambling around the room, attempting to find something to hide his lousy and unfinished project. He grabbed the quilt from Kreacher and hastily threw it over the bookshelf just as Hermione walked in.

As Ron turned to look at her with a grin, she fixed him with one of her suspicious stares. She was wearing her work robes and her hair was in a bun on her head, but it was messy from the travel. Loose curls hung all around her face.

"What are you up to?" she asked, walking immediately to the disfigured shape under the quilt.

"No, wait." Ron stepped between her and the bookshelf. That seemed to work because Hermione suddenly looked up at him and smiled with one of those smiles that made him shiver all over still. "It's a surprise."

"Okay." Hermione perked up an eyebrow but didn't inquire further. She was staring first at his bare shoulders and then her eyes settled on his lips.

"Welcome home," he said, wrapping his hands around her. "It's so good to have you here."

They had both been practically living together after Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts, either at her or his place, but this house was theirs officially and them both calling it 'home' had a nice ring to it.

He noticed she was wearing the engagement ring. Again he was sweetly reminded of the fact that she would be his wife soon. It was what he had wanted for longer than he would care to admit. Overcoming all the post-war trauma, rebuilding the Wizarding world, moving on to a life without the constant presence of danger, he felt they were both finally ready to build a life and family of their own.

Every day she was more and more beautiful to him, more brilliant, funnier and stronger. Just standing there in the centre of their messy bedroom, he was overcome with a hunger and desire for her.

Ron leaned down to kiss her passionately on the lips. Hermione moaned sweetly under his touch. She flicked her fingers and when Ron opened his eyes again, the Ministry robes were gone and she was standing there only in her underwear. His stomach fluttered and he felt himself going hard.

"I like this welcome," she whispered.

"I like the attire."

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the ground. He felt her demanding to be held, to be loved, to be swept away, and he would always oblige. "I'm so excited," she mumbled into his neck as he trailed kisses down her shoulder.

"About?" he asked, pulling away to look at her.

She laughed softly and kissed him. "To be your wife. To be Mrs. Weasley."

"Granger-Weasley surely," he said, "Hermione Granger is a famous and respected name. You've earned it and you should keep it."

Hermione didn't say anything to that, but her glowing eyes told him how much his words and respect meant to her.

"I love you, Ron."

His heart still lost control of itself whenever she said those words.

"I love you too."

Ron woke up to a quiet and dark room, his head aching, mind exhausted from the intense foray into the subconsciousness, retrieving a memory that had the ability to save and kill him at the same time.

The dream was real and there was no doubt about it in his heart.

The vial was still clutched in his hands, but it was empty, just as his heart was empty. That was the last of it. He turned on his side and buried his face into the pillow, drifting uneasily into a dreamless sleep where the thought and memory of Hermione could no longer find him.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and please i hope you review