A/N - I'm so, so sorry for the delayed update! Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, regardless. xxx
Chapter 33 - The Last Leg
Despite what they both had agreed about the calmness of their setting, Ron and Hermione were abruptly woken up by the birds' chirping in the early hours of Wednesday.
Assessing the light in the sky, Hermione assumed that it was around five or six in the morning. She smiled up at Ron as she recounted last night's events, as he was rubbing his eyes.
"We should go up to your room, before someone comes looking for us," she said gently, running her fingers along Ron's chest to coax him into wakefulness.
"Yeah, okay." The brief mental image of his mum coming out and finding him and Hermione… as they were, was something Ron hoped he'd never live to experience.
Hermione winced with the pain that came from sitting up, and Ron immediately asked if she was okay.
"I'm fine," she dismissed. "Just a bit sore; it's normal."
Ron carefully wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry, I tried to be as gentle as pos-"
"Shh," Hermione silenced him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "It was perfect."
Ron smiled lazily at her, before resting his head on her shoulder.
"Come on." She tapped his arm. "The sooner we get dressed and going, the sooner we can be back in bed - an actual bed," Hermione added, surveying the throw they had slept on.
It didn't take too long for them both to get up and dressed, and Hermione particularly enjoyed the fact that Ron had decided not to do up a single button on his shirt for the walk back to his bedroom.
But, once they had reached Ron's room, and slipped back into bed (Ron in just his boxers again, and Hermione in a borrowed t-shirt of his), Hermione found that all of the dreariness had left her, and she was as good as wide awake.
They were facing the same way: Hermione's back against Ron's chest as he dropped a loose arm around her waist. She knew that Ron would be back asleep in a matter of minutes, so decided to think of last night in an attempt to occupy her thoughts.
Wow, she had lost her virginity. Hermione wondered if it would change her, as a person. Don't be silly, she chastised herself. Although, she couldn't help but ponder it. Having sex was this massive craze, and Hermione never really believed anything could be that good.
But, my God, it was, she allowed herself the scandalous thought, squeezing her thighs together. Ron didn't seem to notice, although he did throw a leg over hers, which did nothing to abate Hermione's thoughts.
She wondered if it had been god for him, too. He seemed to rather enjoy it, and it was only their first time. Hermione grinned excitedly as she reminded herself that the first time was just the start of it, and that it was only meant to improve from there.
She earnestly tried not to think about it too much. The one side of her was admonishing herself for only thinking about doing it again, deeming her thoughts crude and unnecessary. But then, the other side of her, who was mostly thinking about how close Ron was, realised that he hadn't started lightly snoring yet, so he must be still awake…
"Ron?" She shifted onto her other side, arms going around Ron's shoulders.
"Mm?" he replied with eyes shut, but wrapped his arms back around her, nonetheless.
"D-do you want to do it again?" she asked, entwining their legs.
"What?" His eyes popped open now, to find a shyly-smiling Hermione looking up at him.
"You know, do you want to do it again?" she repeated, praying she wouldn't have to spell it out to him.
Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"
"Yes. Really."
Ron shook his head. "No." He began lightly stroking her thigh under the quilt. "You're in pain."
"It's really not that bad," she persisted, quite truthfully, but Ron didn't seem convinced.
Hermione moved herself up, pushing Ron onto his back as her legs straddled him. Ron groaned, as she began kissing him, cupping his face in her hands.
"Hermione," he mumbled against her lips. "Are you sure about this?"
She nodded fervently as she kissed him again, her tongue eagerly slipping into his mouth. Ron's hands had found her bum, and Hermione's head was so fogged with lust that she had no time to notice him flipping them over.
She grinned against his mouth as Ron became more and more enthusiastic, his lips starting their familiar trail down her face and neck.
"For a moment then...I thought that you… hadn't really enjoyed it...that much," she chuckled between sighs and moans.
Ron paused his actions to look down at her. "Sometimes I wonder if you really are the brightest witch of our age," he laughed, moving to kiss her again.
"Excuse me!" She swatted him between kisses. "Does that mean you did enjoy it, then?" She couldn't help but ask.
"Fucking hell, yes," he laughed again, moving down in between her legs. "What about you?" he asked, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her thighs.
"Okay; let's both agree we've asked stupid questions," she half-laughed, half-sighed pleasurely. As Ron's mouth moved lower, Hermione's need became more dire. "Ron, please," she sighed, trying to pull him up by his upper-arms. As absolutely wonderful and talented as his mouth was, Hermione craved to have him as close as possible, as quickly as possible.
Thankfully, Ron seemed to understand, and moved back up her body, settling himself in between her legs. He gave her one last meaningful look, which Hermione nodded at, before exclaiming, "oh! Wait!"
Ron froze immediately, looking back up to Hermione. "I thought the charm lasted for twelve hours?" he asked as she fumbled for his wand.
"As much as I'm impressed - and disturbed - by your in-depth knowledge about the charm," Hermione chuckled, "we've forgotten to lock and silence the door." She handed Ron his wand which was beside her on the bedside table. "I'd be mortified if anyone heard us."
Ron nodded, pointing his wand at the door and muttering the correct incantations. Once satisfied with their level of privacy, Hermione ran her fingers through Ron's hair, bringing his head down to kiss her.
She wrapped her legs around him as an invitation, which he greatly accepted, and they both moaned with relief as he entered her. Admittedly, another stab of pain came from his first thrust, but it had vanished nearly as fast it had come, and soon Hermione was moving her own hips up to meet his, her heels digging into his lower back.
Moans, sighs and whimpers were shared between them. Hermione didn't think she could handle it, until Ron reached a hand down to where their bodies met - and then, she knew she couldn't handle it.
Her moans turned into desperate gasps, and soon she was chanting Ron's name with her release. Ron followed shortly after, and lay his head down on her chest.
"Incredible," he mumbled. Hermione smiled, running her fingers through his hair again as they caught their breaths.
Eventually, Ron moved back off of her, pulling Hermione back into his side. She smiled contentedly, and it only took a few short minutes before they were both back asleep.
"What do we need these for if we're going by Portkey?" asked Ron curiously. He was sitting on his bed, watching as Hermione packed a suitcase, which would then be packed into the beaded bag.
"The hotel will need them, for starters. And it would be silly to travel across the world without your passport, even if you do go by Portkey." She had been answering his questions for the last half an hour, but Hermione could hardly say she minded.
Everything had been finalised in the last couple of days. The Portkeys had all been established; Australian ministries contacted; itineraries written. The only thing they'd have to do before leaving was check on the house in Henley, which Hermione tried not to think about too much, given the way her stomach would ache with nerves whenever she did.
It was currently Friday, and they were due to leave on Sunday. Ron couldn't believe the number of Portkeys they would have to take, so Hermione explained to him how they worked in terms of international travel, but she could tell Ron found it all a bit boring.
Hermione couldn't say she disagreed too much, but as long as it got them to Australia, she frankly couldn't care less.
"What's the weather gonna be like?"
"Well, it's just about summer over here. So it's nearly winter over there, but it never gets nearly as cold in Australia as it does here," she explained, folding up all of the clothes that Mrs Weasley had kindly washed for them.
"And the city we're visiting isn't the capital city?"
"No," she shook her head. "Although, even though I believe Sydney attracts more tourists than Canberra, it's not the capital."
Ron nodded in understanding, opening his mouth to probably ask another question, but Hermione stopped him by sitting beside him on the bed. "You have a lot of questions," she noted.
"Well, apart from Egypt, I've never left the UK. And, it's quite an important trip, so I at least want to know what's going on," he explained, wrapping an arm around Hermione, who rested her head on his shoulder.
"That's fair enough," she sighed, letting her eyes close.
"Tired, are we?" he smirked, rubbing circles on her back.
"We were up late last night."
"We were," said Ron thoughtfully. Hermione rolled her eyes at the dreamy note in his voice.
Last night, of course, they were up late sorting through the itinerary. Well, they turned into just Hermione by around 1am, but Ron was adamant to stay up with her, even if he was too exhausted to help.
Once they had finished, though, and gotten up to bed, they didn't actually go to sleep for quite a bit - Ron had conveniently found a new bout of energy, and Hermione certainly didn't mind staying up just a little bit longer.
But now, they were both paying for the late night. It wasn't often possible to have a lie-in at the Burrow - something Hermione had usually appreciated. But this morning she could've done with more time asleep, especially with all of the packing that they had been doing.
Only to add to their naturally later nights, Hermione was finding that she couldn't find sleep so easily at the moment. Ever since their plan for Australia had begun to materialise, her nerves about the whole affair had been steadily increasing.
First, there was simply finding her parents. And then she'd have to formulate a plan to be with them both in private. And then she'd have to perform the charm which would restore their memories - which the thought of had Hermione's stomach churning with fear. But what she was most afraid of, was her parents' reaction to what she had done.
The plans to find them and corner them alone could be devised thoroughly. The charm she'd need to complete could be studied and studied. Everything could be prepared for. Everything except her parents' reaction.
Hermione was so sure that what she had done was for the best. And a large part of her still firmly believed that it was the most efficient way to protect her parents. But, she knew her parents probably wouldn't understand. And even if they did, they'd surely be enraged that Hermione hadn't even told them before modifying their memories.
They had always been apprehensive about magic - well, her mother at least. And to then inform them that she had performed magic over them without them knowing… Hermione dread to think what was going to happen.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?" His voice was more serious as he noted the apprehension in her own.
"How d'you think they'll react. My parents, I mean. When they find out what I did?" she timidly asked.
Ron sighed, "I'm not sure, love. I know that once they hear you out, they'll understand, even if they are a bit… shocked, at first."
"How would you react?" she asked him. "Would you understand, if I completely altered your mind, without you even knowing?"
"I dunno, to be honest." He didn't want to lie to her, but Ron was also 100% sure that she had done the right thing, and didn't want her to forget. "Say if it were me you had sent to Australia and wiped the memory of, due to the circumstances of the last bloody however long, then I'd understand. You did the right thing, Hermione," he told her firmly.
"I know, but I just… don't think my parents will see that," she admitted.
Ron squeezed her. "They will," he reassured. "They'll just be happy you're okay and safe. You are still their daughter, after all, even if they don't get why you did what you had to."
"Thank you," she sighed, nestling herself closer to him. Critically, was it what she had to do? Yes, of course, Hermione, she told herself, wishing away the negative thoughts that were oh-so-quick to consume her mind.
Hermione exhaled anxiously as she and Ron walked towards the Burrow's wards, hand in hand.
They were about to apparate to Henley and visit her house. It was the last thing that they needed to do before leaving for Australia, but decidedly the absolute hardest.
She wasn't even sure what to be worried about. But, the greatest reason for sending her parents - mind-altered parents, no less - halfway across the world, was because Hermione had no doubt in her mind that Death Eaters would search them for information.
But, if the Death Eaters had taken an uninvited visit to Hermione's house, only to find it empty, what would they have done? She winced at the thought.
Harry had suggested that she and Ron ask for Aurors to go with them, but Hermione disagreed. If nothing had happened to her home, then she'd be mortified for wasting the precious time of the Aurors at the moment. Also, there probably wasn't going to be anything that they couldn't just clean up themselves.
But just the idea of having something to clean up frightened her. It was her childhood home, after all. Even if she only spent a cumulative two months there a year after going to Hogwarts at eleven-years-old.
Ron was apprehensive. Not only for the proposition of what state Hermione's house would be in, but because they hadn't even left the Burrow since the war.
He tried to remain positive for Hermione. But the nagging thoughts gnawed at him, nonetheless. What if remaining Death Eaters were waiting for her, at her home? He mostly doubted it. Mostly.
"Ready?" he asked once they had stepped outside the wards.
Hermione nodded, offering a half-smile before turning them on the spot.
Once they had landed on their feet, Hermione sighed with recognition as she looked around the abandoned remains of a school, that was tucked to the side of her hometown.
"This is where you used to practise magic?" Ron asked incredulously, inspecting the ground of debris, noticing odd piles of broken glass and various pieces of litter.
"Well, it was the most discreet place. No one dares to come up here, Ron. I'm very sure that any member of the village would tell you that this isn't actually part of Henley."
"Can't say I really blame them," he said absently, looking around the mess.
"Mind what you're saying about my makeshift classroom," she said cheekily.
"I just can't picture an eleven-year-old Hermione coming up here to do magic."
"Well, I didn't come here, specifically. It was more in the actual forest. But I thought that this would be the most distinct place that I could visualise to get us here," she explained.
"Forest?" Ron repeated.
"Yes, we've got a bit of a walk before reaching my house, I'm afraid." Hermione began walking towards the forest entrance.
Ron groaned behind her, before catching up. "It better be all down-hill."
Hermione chuckled, taking his hand again as they made their way down the old woodland that she used to wander up as a child.
Ron could hardly believe that her parents let her come up here all by herself, but Hermione explained that there was a park at the bottom of the woods, where her parents would sit whilst she ventured up here.
"Didn't really take you for an outdoorsy child," said Ron as they made their way, the odd stick snapping under their footsteps.
"I never was, really. I think it was the peace and quiet that I appreciated most, especially once I became aware of my magic."
"When did you become aware of your magic?" he asked, suddenly realising that he never actually knew of Hermione's first encounter with magic.
"Well, I only properly knew of it when Professor McGonagall paid us a visit, all those years ago. But, I suppose my first magical incident happened when I was six. My mum and I were arguing one day, because she had accepted an invitation - on my behalf - to a birthday party for one of the girls in my primary school-"
"Oh, the horror!" Ron teased.
"Shh, you. Anyway, as I was saying, my mum was insistent that I attend this party, but I had no intention of going. It was a swimming party, and I was a rubbish swimmer, even for a six-year-old. The girls at my school used to be quite mean to me for it, so I didn't want to go. My mum dismissed all of that, of course, and told me that I was being ridiculous. So, I became really angry and the next thing I can remember happening is the house being plunged into darkness. My parents thought it was just a power-cut.
"But it couldn't have been, because once I had become confused over the sudden loss of light in the room, I forgot about being angry, and the lights and that instantly came back on. Which shouldn't happen until the trip-switch is flicked back up. And then, five years later, when Professor McGonagall asked me if I could recall anything strange happening when I felt particularly strongly about something, that was the first thing I could remember, so I realised it must have been my first performance of magic."
"Bloody hell," sighed Ron. "Bet that taught your mum never to force you into a party again," he joked.
Hermione smiled at him. "I told you, she was never too pleased about my magic. She had so many hopes for me…" she trailed off. If Hermione thought her mother had been disappointed with her desire to attend a magical school, Hermione could only imagine the uproar once her mother's memory had been restored and she found out what Hermione had done
Ron squeezed her hand reassuringly. They had spoken about Hermione's mum and her dreams for her daughter also becoming a dentist, not too many nights ago.
Hermione smiled back at him, but changed the subject before the conversation could continue. Her guilt was climbing, already, and it didn't help that they were walking through her old village. But they had to do this; there was no point telling her parents that they were safe to come home now, if their home had been potentially ransacked and Merlin knows what else.
The mood uplifted as they strolled through the old village, Hermione smiling as she re-told stories of her youth. As they walked past her primary school, she delved into stories of all of the different subjects you learned as a muggle.
Ron thought that the quaint village suited Hermione and her parents quite well. It was quiet and serene. Nothing like the Burrow, for definite. As he thought more about it, Ron realised that he had never really considered the fact that Hermione had spent so long away from this town, more importantly her parents, for so many years.
The same was for all Hogwarts students, to an extent, Ron supposed. But, taking himself as an example: he had gone back to his parents most Christmases and all summers. Plus, as fascinating as Hogwarts was, he had always kind-of known what to first expect. His whole family were magical, and had attended Hogwarts, so all Ron had ever known growing up was magic.
Hermione, however, hadn't.
"Ron? Have you listened to a thing I've said?"
He looked to find Hermione appearing quite cross. "Yes!" he was quick to say. "You were on about 'maths' or something."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "What thoughts had you so preoccupied?" she asked expectantly.
"You, to be honest." The revelation seemed to stun her. "Well, you in Hogwarts, really. It's just looking around here… it must've been quite difficult, for you, to live such different lives, that's all."
He felt inclined to keep his voice down as they walked through the quiet streets, talking about Hogwarts and magic.
She shrugged. "I suppose. It was better, though, being at Hogwarts." Hermione bit her lip guiltily at the admission.
"Really?"
"Well, even though I love my parents more than anything. I never really felt at home, at home, once I had begun at Hogwarts. It was as if there had been a divide between me and my parents. I told them all I could about school - well, excluding the obvious - and they were always quite happy to hear it, but they clearly really didn't get it," she explained.
Ron nodded sympathetically, and they continued. He couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by the large and grand houses that made up the streets they went through. He felt as if someone like him didn't really belong there, which only made him more apprehensive that Hermione's parents, once all was said and done in Australia, would think much the same.
It didn't take too long before they rounded a corner with a signpost reading Stuart Avenue.
"We're here," she sighed. Hermione felt both weariness and excitement as they entered her street.
"Which one?" asked Ron.
"Oh, it's only about the third one along."
Her gaze was focused on the rest of the street. Although, of course, there was a tree planted in her front garden, so she couldn't really see much of her house.
"Ready?" he repeated his question from earlier, which Hermione gave relatively the same almost-reluctant nod to.
He squeezed her hand and strode purposefully to the third house along, and a part of Hermione wanted to close her eyes in suspense.
"This one?"
"Y-yes," Hermione confirmed, looking up at the house she hadn't seen in nearly a year.
Miraculously, it looked untouched. But, that was only on the outside so far, she reminded herself before becoming overly optimistic.
Ron decided that her house looked just as magnificent as the rest did in Henley. And he found it rather comical, how different their childhood homes really were, and that Hermione had actively left this house every summer to come and visit his.
"Shall we?"
She nodded again, glancing nervously up and down the street.
"I'll stay here and watch," he told her.
She made her way up the stone steps, as Ron turned back out towards the street. The view was lovely, too. The rest of the streets they had walked through only offered a view of the houses opposite, but Hermione's street was facing a hedge.
Hermione, as discreetly as she could, pulled out her wand from the beaded bag and muttered the spells to disperse the protection charms she had put up before leaving. She then brought out a key and turned the lock, the sound of which caused Ron to turn around.
She seemed frozen at the top step, so Ron walked up to her and took her free hand. Hermione smiled softly up at him, before taking the final leap and opening the front door.
Hermione let out a large sigh of relief at the untouched hallway, which she gathered was a good indication that the rest of her house would be okay, too. But she wouldn't be completely relaxed until she knew the whole building had gone scot-free.
After Ron had established that the hallway at least seemed clear and unharmed, he noticed that the house was certainly large on the inside, too.
They hesitantly walked in, as if someone might come and jump out of them at any second. Hermione led them through to the living room, which was also clear of any signs of events.
They walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. Ron was mostly silent as he looked around Hermione's house in complete awe. The dining room walls were a deep purple colour, which heavily contrasted the light walls and furniture of the living room. The kitchen looked almost futuristic, and was filled with about ten appliances that Ron either vaguely recognised from his dad's shed, or didn't know of at all.
"It seems fine, doesn't it?" asked Hermione as she peered around the kitchen, looking out into the back garden.
"Yeah." Ron's answer was quite absent, as he looked around fascinatedly.
He came to stand by Hermione, and was quite surprised to find her looking more crestfallen than anything else.
"That's a good thing, though, right?" he asked unsurely.
Hermione nodded frantically. "Of course it is, but, um, it does make me wonder if sending them… all the way to Australia… was just for nothing."
Ron sighed, before wrapping his arms around her. "Hermione, it wasn't just for nothing. What if something had happened while we were gone. You know you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you hadn't done everything you could - which you did, and more!"
Hermione nodded against him, wrapping her arms back around his torso. "I know, I'm sorry that I'm being silly."
Ron shook his head dismissively, but Hermione only clung closer to him. "We should make a start," she declared, resolutely wiping her eyes of the few tears she had shed. "We have a lot of cleaning to do."
Ron was about to suggest that they have a sit down or something first, as Hermione was clearly upset, but he knew better than to try and convince a determined Hermione to change course. So, they cleaned. And dusted. And washed. Until every spec of dust or dirt that had appeared from a year with no human activity had vanished. He hadn't truly appreciated how large Hermione's house was until they had to clean it. And they had only, so far, done the downstairs.
"I don't think I've done this much cleaning since Grimmauld Place," sighed Ron as they collapsed onto the living room sofa. Cleaning the Burrow was tiring enough, but his house had never been unused for more than a couple of months.
"At least the house will be as they left it." Hermione sounded oddly positive.
Ron nodded, yet he felt rather shattered. The 'duck-egg blue' sofa (as Hermione had described to him) was quite comfy, and the subtle tick of the clock that sat on the mantelpiece was sending him to sleep.
"Can we have a nap before doing upstairs?" he asked hopefully, trying to use Hermione's hand to pull her closer.
Hermione chuckled at him. "No, you're not that lazy."
"Lazy?!" repeated Ron incredulously, "I just cleaned half a house!"
She only chuckled again, before standing up off of the sofa, and taking Ron's hands.
"I know," she said, pulling him up into a standing position. "And I'm very thankful for it." Hermione kissed him once on the lips, but before Ron could get his hopes up, she added, "but we better carry on. Your mum will be worried if we're gone too long."
"She knows where we are!" But Ron's protest fell on deaf ears as Hermione all but dragged him up the stairs.
The upstairs was just as big as the down, Ron concluded, as Hermione gave him a swift tour. The visit to her parents' bedroom was especially brief, but she didn't have much to say about any of the rooms - which was very unlike Hermione.
They began at the family bathroom, although Hermione explained that she was the only one who used it, as her parents had an en-suite. Must be nice, Ron had scoffed. After that, they moved onto the study, which Ron joked was actually Hermione's bedroom (earning him a swat). Then, they ever so quickly hoovered and dusted her parents' room, and moved onto her bedroom.
It was quite Hermione-like, Ron supposed. The walls were a light-ish grey, and the furniture was very modest. However, there was nothing that made it distinct to Hermione, but he grasped that that was the idea, when she modified her parents' memories and removed any traces of her from the house. What did make him smile, however, was the bookcase which was completely stacked.
"Has this always been your room?" Ron asked conversationally.
Hermione shook her head. "No. When I was younger, the study was my bedroom - before it had been turned into an office." she was quick to add. "But when I was about eleven, I moved into this room. So I never really got to spend much time in it."
Ron nodded, although Hermione couldn't see him. She was quickly plugging in the hoover, which she gave to Ron to take care of, as she hastily dusted the furniture.
Ron wasn't sure if this sudden alacrity that she had adopted was just Hermione being Hermione, or if there was another reason why she was so keen to get all of the cleaning done.
"Right. I think everything's good to go, now," called Hermione, from the hallway, as she inspected all of the rooms one final time.
"Go? Can we just have a sit down first?" Ron called back, lying down on Hermione's bed.
"Ron! We only just made the bed, you'll mess it up!" she admonished, walking back into her bedroom.
"But we've been at it for hours." His groan was muffled by her lilac pillows.
"Exactly, we should head home."
"We're eighteen, Hermione. Not eight. Mum won't be that bothered."
"Yes, but we don't want to miss dinner, do we?" He knew what she was doing; trying to get him up by enticing him with food, but he hadn't fallen for it.
He shifted on the bed to face her. The nervous energy was practically radiating off of her.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, of course," she dismissed, crossing her arms impatiently as she waited for Ron to get off of the bed.
"Why do you want to leave so soon? We're not keeping to a time schedule. The best thing we can do at home is sit in the living room and listen to every bloody detail of Percy's day at work."
"I happen to find his line of work quite interesting," she countered weakly.
"Well," chuckled Ron. "You can ask him about work any time you like, I doubt he'd ever shy away from discussing it."
Hermione just shifted her weight from foot to foot.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron stopped beating around the bush.
"I don't know… it's strange being here when they're not, that's all," she admitted.
Ron heaved himself up into a sitting position. "They'll be back soon," he reassured.
"I know," she sighed, coming to sit beside him. "But I just can't help but think that they… won't want me to come back here with them."
"Well, that's mad," Ron dismissed. "They're your parents."
Hermione couldn't help but feel that they had gone round and round with this conversation, even though she knew it was her fault. As much as both she and Ron tried, she wasn't going to be convinced until they had found her parents.
"I know that it's a bit far into the future, but will you come back here with me to help my parents unpack? It'll be less awkward if you're there, too." She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Ron nodded, although he didn't think that Hermione should be so worried about it being awkward between her and her parents.
She tilted her head up to properly kiss him. After about five minutes, when they had come up for air, Ron suggested, "maybe we should go back home if we're gonna do this."
"And what, exactly, did you think we were going to do, Ronald?" she smirked at him. "And what would be wrong with here?"
"Well, y'know, it's your childhood bedroom."
"That never stopped us when it was your childhood bedroom," she reminded him.
"Yeah, but, imagine if we come here with your parents after, and they go 'oh, welcome to the house, Ron. I don't think you've ever been here before', and all I'll be able to think is that 'oh yeah, I have been here before; to shag your daughter'."
Hermione wrinkled her nose with distaste. "Why would you think about that around my parents?"
"It's nothing to do with your parents, Hermione," said Ron rather matter-of-factly. "I'm just thinking about it a lot anyway."
"Typical," she tisked, before getting off of the bed and yanking him by the hand, too.
By the time they had apparated home (which was much simpler to do from Hermione's house rather than walking all the way back to the forest), dinner was nearly ready.
They were having quite an early dinner tonight, as it was Hermione and Ron's last night before going off to Australia. Ron didn't see the point; they'd be back by next week, but his mum was making quite the fuss.
"And you know exactly where you've got to go for each Portkey?"
"Yes, mum," answered Ron exasperatedly, as he shovelled some potatoes onto his plate.
"Well, Ron," his mum began in response to his tone. "You can't blame me for being concerned. The world is still very much up in the air." Her voice depicted her worry. "And there's still time to ask for an Auror to help you-"
"No." Ron knew that he could take care of Hermione by himself well enough, thank you very much. Although, of course, he would never tell Hermione that.
"It was just a suggestion, Ron."
"Yeah but, Mum, we're leaving tomorrow. There'd be no chance of-"
"Yes, you're leaving tomorrow. There's no need to remind me," she snapped, and the atmosphere became incredibly tense.
Hermione was strictly focused on her plate, although she wasn't paying any mind to the food upon it. She suddenly felt incredibly ashamed that she was the one who was sitting beside Ron at dinner, instead of his mother, especially as Hermione had spent the whole day with him.
Ron stared widely at his mother. He was half expecting the same questions she had been asking all week. But he had in no way imagined that his mum still had an issue with him leaving. He looked to Hermione, and could tell exactly how she was feeling - even though there shouldn't have been a reason for her to feel like it.
As subtly as he could, Ron reached under the table to squeeze her hand, which was resting on her thigh, but Hermione didn't respond to the action.
He rolled his eyes. His mum had spent months on end without him whilst he was at school. And he'd be back in a matter of days - he optimistically believed. He then thought of Fred, and a wave of sympathy washed over him for his mum. But he couldn't let Hermione go alone. He wouldn't.
After dinner, Mrs Weasley left the kitchen without uttering another word. Hermione was quick to clean up after everyone, so Ron stayed to help in the hope that everyone else would leave them alone.
Once George, the last in the room, had left, Ron put down his tea-towel and walked over to Hermione.
"Hermione-" he began, but was immediately cut off.
"I'll go on my own," she said firmly.
"No, you won't!" Ron countered incredulously. He couldn't believe she'd even consider it.
"Ron-" but he was the one to interrupt this time.
"No, Hermione, you can't-" he stammered.
"Can't I?" she challenged.
"You know I didn't mean it like that; of course you can! But you shouldn't have to." He walked closer to her again. "I'll go talk to mum, she understands that I'm going," he maintained, but the statement didn't seem to placate Hermione in the slightest.
"I could request an Auror," she mused. Although Hermione knew there was no one else she'd rather go with than Ron. She was just trying to think of Mrs Weasley.
"Why does everyone keep fucking suggesting that an Auror tags along? We'd be fine!" he fumed.
"Calm down, Ron! You must appreciate where your mum is coming from." Hermione didn't want to say it in blaring words, but she knew Ron understood, even if only vaguely.
"I know," he sighed. "I'll go find her."
His mum had only moved into the living room. She was knitting away furiously, and Ron knew she wasn't in the most approachable mood when he had established that Celestina Warbeck couldn't be heard from miles away.
Evidently, the rest of his family knew better than to get in her way whilst she was in a mood, so thankfully the living room was empty.
"Uh, mum?" Ron cringed at his own tentativeness.
It had been a while since he and his mum had spoken as just the two of them. And that wasn't because they weren't particularly close, just in a family so big it's rare to find moments like these.
He knew his mum would've been worried sick about him when they left last year, but it wasn't as if he had meant to leave without saying goodbye. The Death Eaters' invasion at the wedding wasn't something he had thought would happen. And he had to go with Hermione and Harry; even if there was a choice for him.
However, Ron could feel more sympathy for his mum after the nights he spent listening to the wireless, living in perpetual fear of what was potentially happening to his family.
"Yes, Ron?" Her tone was cool, and her eyes didn't leave the wool she was aggressively attending to.
"C-can we talk? About dinner?"
She sighed heavily through her nose, putting down the severed… whatever it was that she was originally knitting.
Ron took this as the best invitation to come in as he was going to get, so slowly walked into the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa which was closest to his mum's armchair.
He didn't really know where to begin. But Ron knew he wanted to do this right. He was going with Hermione, but he also didn't want to upset his mum too much by doing so.
"Mum, I know-"
"No you don't, Ron," his mother snapped at him before he could even finish his sentence. "You don't know, you don't know at all! Do you have even the faintest idea of how worried I was after you left in August? The first thing I hear in weeks is that you've broken into the Ministry! And then nothing but radio silence for months!"
"I'm sorry, Mum, but you know we didn't choose to leave on the night of the wedding-"
"I didn't know that you were choosing to leave at all!" she cried.
Ron sighed guiltily. "I'm sorry for that, too. But we had to help Harry; he didn't ask us to come or anything, but we had to help him." His tone was weak, but the meaning behind it was strong.
"I understand that, Ron," his mum sighed. "But… after-after everything, I just don't know if I can bear to do it again. I'll have no way of knowing if my son and his girlfriend are safe for Merlin knows how long."
"Mum, it won't be like last time. We'll write to you whenever we can, and we're safe this time around. The Ministry knows exactly what we're doing and where we'll be going." But she didn't seem convinced by his reasoning. "I've got to go with Hermione," he added.
"But why, dear? Why not let Hermione go with an Auror? If the trip will be as short as you say, then you'll only have to spend a few days apart. And then we can all be sure that you're both absolutely safe," his mother reasoned, but Ron just shook his head.
"It's not just about the time apart, Mum." Ron sighed, leaning back into the chair and running his hands over his face. Was he seriously contemplating confessing to his mother his biggest regret? He still loathed himself for it, and never forgot how bloody lucky he was that Hermione had forgiven him. Because he definitely didn't deserve it. But that's why it was so important that he told his mother; he needed her to see why it was so crucial to him that he never leave Hermione like he had, again.
"Then what is it about, Ron?" his mum asked, on cue.
Ron tried to convey in his voice how much he deeply regretted what he had done, whilst also keeping his tone somewhat firm. But that hope was blown out of the window the minute he began retelling the story. His eyes welled up with tears as he recalled the incredible hurt and disbelief in Hermione's eyes, as he turned swiftly on the spot without a second thought, in the middle of that horrid night.
He didn't leave anything out. When bringing up Shell Cottage, he begged his mum not to be angry with Bill for keeping Ron's secret. By the time he had gotten to the part of the story where the deluminator had brought him back to Hermione, his mother had tears in her eyes of her own.
He emphasised, as best he could, the importance of never even potentially hurting Hermione like that again, and his mother nodded in understanding. Especially after he mentioned Malfoy Manor and how vital it was to him that he'd be there for her. His mother didn't tell him off for what he had done, like Ron knew he deserved. Instead, she nodded through her tears, communicating to Ron how much she knew he was sorry, and how much she knew that he loved Hermione.
They hugged, before his mother got up and called the rest of the family downstairs.
"We've got to say a proper goodbye to you and Hermione, haven't we?" his mum provided, as an answer to his risen eyebrow.
They entered the kitchen, in order to retrieve dessert and drinks for the family to share. Hermione shot up out of her chair, wearing an apologetic expression as Mrs Weasley came through.
But before she could say anything, Hermione was engulfed into a hug from Mrs Weasley.
"You'll promise to keep yourself safe, won't you?" she cried, releasing Hermione.
"O-of course, Mrs Weasley!" Hermione looked to Ron for confirmation of what she hoped was true.
She noticed, as he nodded, that his eyes were as red as his hair. As soon as Mrs Weasley had let Hermione to go bustle around in the pantry, Hermione went straight to Ron.
"What happened?" she asked, hardly expecting Ron to come out crying.
"I'll tell you about it later," said Ron, wrapping his arm around Hermione's shoulders.
"Are you both alright?" Hermione looked up to him concernedly.
Ron nodded assuringly, kissing her on the forehead. "Come on. Mum insists on wishing us a 'proper goodbye'." He rolled his eyes, before taking her hand and leading them into the living room, narrowly missing plates flying through the air; courtesy of Mrs Weasley.
The air was probably the most jovial it had been since their return from Hogwarts.
The family had spoken mostly about Australia, until Mr and Mrs Weasley left, and then the conversation turned to relationships, somehow.
Ron made an uneasy face at the mention of Harry and Ginny towards the end of sixth year, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him. But, she was smiling up at him nevertheless. Following his parents' departure, Hermione had moved off of the sofa onto the arm of the armchair that Ron was sitting in. Although, she had soon slid down onto his lap, curling up beside him.
The mention of sixth year obviously sparked the topic of Ron and Lavender, but it didn't bother Hermione at all, as she cuddled up to Ron, his arm around her.
What did bother Hermione was Percy - who had had a far bigger drink than Hermione had ever witnessed of him - and his next comment.
"Really, Hermione, how does someone as brilliantly intelligent as you, settle for… well… Ron?"
Ron only sarcastically rolled his eyes at the remark, but Hermione, for one, couldn't believe the audacity of Percy to make such a horrible comment like that, and then laugh it off as a joke.
"I didn't settle for anything," she snapped. "I love Ron."
The jolly mood quickly stiffened along with Hermione's tone. Most people, even George, knew not to poke the bear of Hermione. Percy, however, hadn't quite learned that yet.
"As do I," he said primly, "but we all know that he's not the brightest bulb in the box, yet you would outshine everyone."
"Well, what does that have to do with anything? And, for the record, Ron is incredibly clever!"
All five of Ron, Harry, Ginny, George and Charlie watched the pair nervously, eyes flicking between Hermione and Percy.
"Hermione," Ron squeezed her hip, "it's alright, it's-"
"No it's not, Ron," she countered.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to offend either Ron or you," Percy spluttered, but Hermione just shook her head.
"Then what else were you trying to do?" she asked incredulously, ignoring Ron's assurances that he was 'fine' and it 'didn't really matter.'
"Oh - uh - nothing. I really am sorry." He seemed to shrink with each stammered word.
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, to ask what good apologising did when he very clearly meant the nasty things he had said about his brother. But, Ron taking her hand and squeezing it stopped her. The action reminded her of the events of their long day, and she reasoned that her eagerness to retort came from how tired she was.
Although, regardless of her exhaustion, she completely disagreed with Percy, but didn't want to make any more of a scene than she had.
"It's fine, I know you were only joking," she lied, but it seemed to placate Percy well enough anyway.
After only about ten minutes of casual conversation, Hermione tapped Ron on the chest. "Can we go to bed? We've had a long day, and we're going to have a few of those coming up."
Ron nodded, and the pair bid good nights, Hermione rolling her eyes at the catcalls from George and Charlie.
After they had brushed their teeth, gotten changed, and slipped into bed, Hermione was still upset after what had happened downstairs. It was no wonder that Ron had problems with his self-esteem, enduring comments like that from his own family.
"Ron? I know that Percy was joking, although I didn't find it remotely funny… but, you don't agree with him, do you?" Hermione had been desperate to ask since they had left the living room. They lay adjacent to each other in his bed, but Hermione had propped herself up on one elbow to study his face.
"Well, yeah," shrugged Ron, as if it shouldn't have even been a question.
"Why?" Hermione demanded. "What he said was completely ridiculous!"
"Hermione," said Ron gently, shifting closer and taking her free hand. "You know that I'm always going to think that you deserve so much better."
Hermione just shook her head disbelievingly. "Why can't you understand, Ron? There isn't any better!" She wouldn't usually be one to indulge in self-pity, but she knew that Ron's was so much more than doing it for attention. He truly believed that he was so much worse than her, and she could never know why.
Ron pulled Hermione into his embrace. "I told mum," he announced.
"Told her what?" Hermione was fairly certain she knew exactly what, but didn't want to jump to conclusions.
"That I left you." Ron's voice was so sharp with self-loathing that Hermione found it incredible that his body could still radiate such warmth.
"I forgave you for that months ago-"
Ron interrupted Hermione's protest, "I'll never forgive myself. And I still have no sodding clue why you did."
Hermione shifted herself up to face him, cupping his face so he'd listen to her. "Because I know you, Ron. You made a mistake. And not once since you came back did I ever question how much you regret that mistake. Even when I was angry with you. In fact, it made it all the more difficult to stay angry with you," she smiled, but her levity didn't stretch across to him.
"I love you," he said suddenly, but Hermione smiled softly at him nonetheless.
"I love you, too." She snuggled closer to him. "And I'm so glad that you're the one coming to Australia with me, Ron."
Ron squeezed her. "What time are we leaving tomorrow?"
"The latest we should be going is around three," said Hermione.
"Mmm I'm thinking lie-in, then?" he proposed, and Hermione chuckled against his chest.
"Fine," she replied, and Ron sighed in relief.
"I love you," he said once again.
"I love you, too," Hermione answered, although she knew he would already be half asleep.
Despite her exhaustion, Hermione's mind raced with the prospect of the next few days. Portkeys and Parents. That was all she needed to focus on. Fairly doable, right?