Life can be strange sometimes. Something obvious can become clear in a moment with barely any connection. Something that you knew for the longest of times can be revealed as if it was something you never knew. A life changing something, realized in the most inconsequential of moments. But, realized from the most consequential moments.
Emerging from the claustrophobic darkness, Harry appeared on the front step of number 12 Grimmauld Place and felt someone grip his upper arm, steadying him so he didn't stumble backwards down the steps.
"Blimey, I'm out of practice apparating here," he commented after finding his footing.
"No kidding," Ron dropped his hand with a playful grin and looked over Harry's head to see the street behind him. No passerbys seemed to notice anyone appear out of midair or wonder at the lack of building 12 in the row of houses. Harry reached past him and opened the door into the old Order's Headquarters. A musty smell filled his nose before he had even entered the corridor, followed by the smell of ash.
Without a word, they both started down the narrow hall with Ron closing the door behind him. Someone had definitely been here since their last visit after the run in at the Ministry. No furniture was left standing and everything was thrown about the house without a care, most likely searching for clues as to where they had gone. The walls were singed black and a heavy layer of ash carpeted the floor, their shoes leaving distinct footprints. With only a backward glance to Ron, Harry frantically sprinted up the stairs to the fourth floor at the top of the house.
He stopped in front of an open door granting access to Sirius' teenage bedroom and pushed it open without hesitation. Harry let out a heavy breath as he stood on the threshold.
"Wow," Ron muttered softly. "That's… lucky." Harry entered slowly and he felt the fear that had settled into his stomach ease slightly. The carpet was burnt to a crisp, but the fire seemed to burn out at around the knee level, so the wall decorations, bed, desk, and drawers still stood, covered in ash, but still stood.
"Tell me about it," Harry whispered as his fingers gently traced a dust covered picture of the teenage Sirius with his three friends at Diagon Alley together. The four of them smiled with their arms around each other, clearly too young to know what was in store for them. Naturally, his eyes fell upon James in the middle with his matching untidy hair and a smirk that seemed far too familiar. Harry made a slow circle around the room, kicking burnt parchment and unknown possessions out from under his feet.
With far too few words exchanged, the pair peeked their heads into Regulus Black's room across the landing which was in a similar state of disarray. They made their way down to the next floor and saw the peeling wallpaper covered in scorch marks and the bedspreads burnt to a crisp. The lower levels were in the most horrendous states of destruction with the entire rooms covered in soot and the cupboards smashed before being burned. When they reached the drawing room, Harry couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction erupt in his chest that the Black family tree had finally been defeated. The horrid painting of Walburga Black was silenced at last and he knew that Sirius would be smiling alongside him.
"Well, at least something good came out of this," Ron commented with a cocked eyebrow and a faint smile painted on his lips. Harry nodded silently, finally tearing his gaze away from the spot where the tapestry used to be.
"It's safe to say we have our work cut out for us," Harry stated in an overly cheery voice. They made their way to the last room of the house- the kitchen- and weren't surprised at the table now barely resembling a charred plank of wood. Harry pointed his wand at the tabletop and cleaned off the dust while Ron managed to conjure two chairs for them to sit on. They both set their wands on the surface next to them and Harry couldn't help but run a hand through his dark hair and let out a deep breath while simultaneously making a split-second decision.
"Kreacher?" He called into the quiet room. The hunched over figure of the house elf appeared on top of the table beside them.
"Master Harry," he croaked with a respectful bow. "And… Mr. Weasley." Harry ignored his still hesitant address towards Ron and pressed on.
"Hello, again. So, Kreacher-"
"The house! My poor mistress' house! What happened to the most noble house of Black!?" He screeched with his eyes wildly darting about the room from under his thin hands. He squatted and began to rock back and forth, his Hogwarts cloth scraping the table.
"It was searched and pretty much destroyed, Kreacher. And set on fire," he added absentmindedly.
"Probably fiend fire," Ron clarified, the bright orange flames burning through the Room of Requirement seering at the back of his mind. Somehow, the two Gryffindors were far less preoccupied with the house being burnt than the house elf who worked there.
"Look, Kreacher," Harry began again. " Ron and I want to move in here in a few weeks. Can you help us fix the house?" Kreacher stopped rocking and peered through his hands at Harry, eyes even wider than usual.
"You want to… to fix the house?" He asked incredulously.
"Yes. But, not so it's exactly like it was before." Kreacher's hopeful eyes drooped slightly, but he said nothing. "Except for the fourth floor. We're going to leave those two rooms just like they are." The house elf was slightly reassured and straightened his knees to his typical hunched position.
"Very well, Master Harry. I will start cleaning and restoring the noble house," he said with a gleeful tone. He bowed again so that his long and crooked nose scratched the table. "Out Master, out! I will clean the kitchen first!" With his small hands on Harry's legs, he pushed him out of the room and Ron followed, clearly amused. The door closed after Ron passed the threshold and they both stood in the hallways stunned and frozen in place.
"Well. He seems excited to help us clean," Ron commented after getting over the shock of Kreacker's odd behavior.
"Seems like it." Harry shrugged and pointed his wand at the ash covered wooden floors. "Scourgify." The ash and dust were wiped off the surface so that the panels could be seen again, even if their usual pristine brown had turned black. Ron pointed his wand at the walls and muttered the same incantation. They made their way back up the house, through every room and every floor, continuously saying the same spell over and over again at every object they could see. Back on the third floor, they examined the somewhat cleaned master bedroom. The large room had a canopy bed in the center where no distinguishable color remained; the sheets had holes singed through them and the edges were crispy to the touch. Gingerly, Ron tugged on the bedpost nearest him and it came clean off without a fight. The curtains hanging around the bed came crashing down and the bed essentially collapsed in itself.
"Whoops," he said lamely without backing away. A new cloud of dust engulfed the room, finding its way into their lungs. Harry began swatting at the air in front of him and he coughed loudly until the dust had cleared.
"Sorry," Ron said weakly after he stopped coughing too.
"I don't reckon there's much use for this, huh?" Harry asked, kicked the edge of the poor excuse of a bed.
"Probably not, no," Ron agreed. "Doesn't look too comfortable in my opinion." He gazed at the pile of burnt wood, crispy sheets, and partially flattened mattress seriously, before looking up to see Harry watching him with an eyebrow raised and a smile threatening to engulf him. Harry shook his head and let out the laugh he was holding back. While Ron's laugh joined Harry's, the latter vanished the bed, leaving a dusty rectangle underneath which they scourgified easily.
When they were done vanishing anything they determined to be useless in the first bedroom, they moved on to the next and continued making hasty decisions on the random things that they could make out amongst the charred remains.
"I wish Hermione was here," Ron confessed as he attempted to repair a nightstand that refused to cooperate with him. The ash seemed to not want to leave its surface and the leg was bent the wrong way. "She could do this so much better." He looked at his wand with slight disappointment before giving up and vanished the rickety table anyways.
"I bet you wish she was here for other reasons too," Harry filled in smugly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron blush profusely before regaining his composure.
"Yeah. I wish I could snog her in front of you, just like you used to with Ginny." Now it was Harry's turn to blush, but he did not look away.
"At least I didn't kiss her in the middle of a battle!" Ron just chuckled and smirked.
"At least our first kiss wasn't described as, and I quote, 'wet'." He crossed his arms and stuck up his chin in victory, forcing Harry to turn an even darker shade of red.
"Damn it, Ron. I thought you would have forgotten about that by now!"
"Never!" he cried with a large smile and triumphant laugh. Harry shook his head and turned away to examine what he thought was once a water pitcher, but now resembled a slightly melted flower vase. After their chuckles had died down and they finished another room, Ron followed Harry out of the threshold and into the next.
"Are you still… you know…," Ron started pensively. Harry stared at him blankly, having no idea what he was getting at. "Interested in Ginny?" he finished awkwardly and as if every word was causing him pain.
"Oh… er…," Harry looked at Ron curiously, trying to predict a reaction out of him. "Yeah, I suppose. But, I'm not going to… to ask her out or anything yet. Not after… everything that's happened. I think I just… need some time. She probably does too." Merlin, why was this so hard?
Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Well, for what it's worth… I think she could do a lot worse... than you, I mean."
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said ruefully, a slight smirk dancing on his lips.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I meant…" he sighed heavily and massaged his forehead. "Bloody hell, I'm bad at this. Okay. I know you don't need my permission, or whatever, but… if and when you do give it another go, just… don't hurt her, okay? I mean, she's my sister, and I know that she can make he own decisions and she can take care of herself and neither of you need my-"
"I get it, Ron," Harry interrupted, saving his friend from continuing down the awkward rabbit hole. The redhead looked up from his shoes, clearly relieved. "And I won't hurt her. But, don't hurt Hermione either, because she's my sister." They locked eyes and Ron nodded firmly.
"Trust me, I won't." Harry nodded, clearly satisfied. But, before he could turn to vanish something else, Ron continued in a soft voice. "I… I think I love her."
He smiled, remembering the feeling of her beautiful bushy hair tickling his neck as they held each other before falling asleep. Her adorable victory dance when she beats him at Wizard's Chess (they're pretty evenly matched, even if he is still slightly ahead). Her tensed arms around his midriff whenever they're on a broom together. Her messy handwriting writing him letters as her brain worked faster than her hand. The warm feeling in his stomach whenever her letters arrived. Their endless conversations when Harry was in one of his many detentions or Quidditch practices and they spent the night talking together, well after the stars blinked at them. The blaze in her eyes that appeared when she stood up for what she believed in. That small kiss on the cheek she had given him before his first Quidditch game.
"I think she loves you, too," Harry replied confidently. He smiled at the thought of his two love-struck friends and how ironic it was that Hermione couldn't see how much Ron loved her. Especially when just the thought of her could make him into the Ron that was under the powerful effects of a love-potion back in sixth year.
"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, And I don't want to go home right now." Hermione softly sang along to the radio under her breath while sifting through puzzle pieces, looking for the one that would fit into a gaping hole in the puzzle, just teasing her. "And all I can taste is this moment, And all I can breathe is your life."
"So, this Ron bloke," Curtis began awkwardly, running a hand along his scratchy chin.
"Dad," Hermione interrupted, dragging the word out in annoyance and she let the song fade into the background.
"Now hang on a minute." He dropped his puzzle piece onto the pile to join the others. "He's good to you, yeah?"
"Yes, Dad." She rolled her eyes and turned back to the puzzle.
"Really, though. He's your first major boyfriend, as far as I know," he protested, trying to make his daughter take this seriously.
"Really," she confirmed without looking up.
"Hermione," he said gently, pulling her eyes back up towards him. "I know that I don't know a lot about how things work in your other world, but I just want to make sure that you're happy and taken care of. That's what all fathers worry about."
"I know, Dad. And I am happy with him. And he takes care of me when I need him too." She met his gaze with a watery smile and tried to force the pink tinge in her cheeks to disappear.
"Okay. Good. And he can keep you safe, if you need it?"
Oh, if only he could know, Hermione thought. Without Ron running straight for the falling chandelier at Malfoy Manor, it would have crushed her. Without Ron, those Death Eaters would have hit her in the café. Without Ron telling her to take a break, she wouldn't have a life outside of studying. Without Ron holding her before bed, she would never sleep without nightmares. Without Ron, she wouldn't have laughed and danced the night away at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Without Ron, she would have no one to challenge her ideas. No one to make her laugh at any moment of any day. No one to cuddle with on the couch when everyone else was out doing something. No one to call her bushy hair beautiful and mean every word. No one to stand by her side no matter what. No one to write letters to even if they just saw each other the day before.
"I… I love him, Dad." Her voice was firm and definite, leaving no room for him to doubt or question her.
"Then I'm sure he's a good man," he agreed finally.
"He is." She finally found the one piece she was looking for. It was naturally hiding from her in plain sight, right in front of her and it snapped perfectly into place.
And I don't want the world to see me, 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand, When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.
Thank you all for reading this far! I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Please leave reviews, they are always appreciated. And get ready for the next chapter 'cuase it's back to Hogwarts!