Chapter 33

Ron propped his free arm behind his head — his other arm being wrapped around Hermione's shoulder as she slumbered next to him against a soft pile of down pillows. He stared at the ceiling, pondering a sliver of golden light slashing across it in the darkness, filtering in through a gap in the curtains from the streetlight outside 29 Rue du Refuge. He was beyond tired — boggled, really, by the whirlwind of events that unfolded in just the previous 24 hours or so, from the panic of learning that Hermione had been attacked to the agonizing Portkey journey to Marseille to the downright surreal revelations in Madame Odette's laboratoire. He and Harry and Hermione had stayed up for another several hours after the others had retired, pondering all that they had seen and experienced, and gaming out what would happen next with Dolohov in custody.

Now, Ron was exhausted. And yet, sleep eluded him.

In a sense, the Dynatótia learnings had settled certain puzzles in Ron's mind and put to rest questions and conjectures that had niggled at him since he had first spied Hermione so long ago from that park bench in Sevenoaks. To some extent, the sense of connection that he — and even Harry and Ginny — had felt with Hermione from the very beginning had now snapped into place and made at least a small amount of sense. They had indeed recognized each other from one another's future — déjà connaissance, as Fleur's tome on Elemental Magic had termed it. It was a realization that warmed Ron from the inside out. It had been shown, now beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he and Hermione indeed had a bond that predated their acquaintance — or perhaps, as Madame Odette had tried to explain, that existed outside the limits of time altogether. He still didn't fully understand what caused that bond to form — but then, he reminded himself that there were full-fledged Abreists who had dedicated their lives to studying pretty much that very thing, and none of them had all the answers either. He chuckled to himself. Did it matter how or why it happened? It just … was. That was going to have to be good enough for him.

As he laid there with these thoughts spinning in his head, he hadn't noticed that he'd started quietly humming an old song — from one of those muggle musicals that his Mum quite liked — which had somehow wafted into his conscious mind from somewhere deeper down, a memory of his childhood and the records that used to play in the lounge as his parents relaxed at the end of their busy days. He couldn't remember the name of the show the song came from, but the lyrics had drifted into his head again regardless: "Some enchanted evening," he sung to himself silently, "when you meet a stranger, you may meet a stranger … across a crowded room …"

Hermione stirred slightly in her sleep, making him aware that he'd been doing more than remembering the song — he'd actually been humming more than a few notes. He stilled and looked her over in the dim pre-dawn light. She sleepily burrowed her cheek more deeply into the nook between his shoulder and his neck and, within a moment or so, her breathing evened out and her face relaxed. He wondered if she was dreaming, and if so, what about. Was she reliving all she'd seen that day? She had faced down a ruddy Death Eater and lived to tell the tale, after all. Bloody amazing, she was. He thanked Merlin or whatever force could be credited for it that she hadn't had to deal with more danger than that, at least in *this* life. Though she proved today she would most likely have been more than capable of handling herself if she'd had to survive the war alongside him and Harry. The thought of it sent an involuntary shiver through him nonetheless — he was quite sure he would have been an overprotective berk if she'd been along for the Horcrux hunt.

There was so much still to sort out. Dolohov would have to be prosecuted, of course. He didn't have to ponder what Dolohov had meant by finding and attacking Hermione. It was blindingly obvious. Dolohov was seeking revenge on Ron for the arrest of his own woman, and sending a message loud and clear: The Death Eaters were far from vanquished. The thought of that, of what was at stake now that Hermione was in his life, only steeled his resolve. There's was no choice but to keep fighting. The world had to be made safer for Hermione, for their friends and family, for their children. That was all there was to that.

Letting out a long sigh, he reckoned all that would have to wait for another day. For now, it was enough to have her in his arms, to know she was safe. He brushed his fingers over her shoulder, marveling at how soft and warm and real she was, and silently wished never to be parted from her for so long again.

Tuning in to the rhythm of Hermione's breathing, Ron felt himself beginning to float toward slumber. Snippets of long-past conversation and sights and sounds entered and exited his brain — Fleur, leaning toward him conspiratorially at the dinner table in the Burrow … "You felt it when you met, then — le coup de tonnerre, how you say — the thunderbolt?" … Kissing in the Aurors' gymnasium ... Harry, giving him the mickey outside the Hog's Head — "So, have you two decided how many kids you're going to have?" … The sight of his Dynatótia self along with Harry and Hermione studying in the Common Room … Hermione surreptitiously casting a Drying charm on her pink sweater, his first clue that she was magical ... Hermione's face breathing in the scent of the flowers he'd brought to her at her little maisonette ... The creamy paper upon which her long-lost great aunt had scrawled a note of love … Was Margaret Farley part of the circle of souls that Ron and Hermione had discovered they were a part of? Yes … the word yes floated into his head … it felt right.

His scattered thoughts, which had been twisting and bobbing like fallen leaves dotting a bubbling creek, now poured toward a serene pool. He didn't have all the answers. The answers didn't really matter anyway. He had knowledge. He had belief. He was hers and she was his. She would be his, now and forever. As his eyes drifted shut, a small smile came to his lips. "Who can explain it, who can tell you why," he hummed absent-mindedly. "Fools give you reasons, wise men never try…"

Hermione's eyes winked open hours later to the sight of Ron's Adam's apple, rising and falling reassuringly to the soft sound of his breathing. Daylight was seeping in from around the curtains, and yet Hermione wanted nothing more than to remain where they were, sunk deeply in the feather bedding of the Institute's guest quarters. Her cheeks flushed as the memory of the previous night came to her. She had thought, prior to the previous evening, that she couldn't feel any closer to Ron than she already was — and yet, the discoveries she had made in Madame Odette's laboratoire, the insights she had gleaned about the tie that bound the two of them together, had stoked a flame in her heart for him, and the reckless abandon with which they had come together in the privacy of the guest suite was unlike any she had experienced before. She had been utterly and totally free of restraint, unable to feel shame or reticence about showing him how very much he meant to her, how thoroughly she felt that he belonged to her and she to him.

The memory of the way he had looked deeply and frankly into her eyes as he moved above her hours earlier caused her to shiver slightly even then. With the distance of several hours' hindsight, it struck her anew that he had essentially proposed to her, right there, while they were making love. Well, she conceded to herself, it hadn't been a proposal so much as a declaration: "We'll get bonded when we get home, love," he'd said as he pulled back slightly to study her face. Without even thinking, she had felt herself replying to him, biting her lower lip and nodding, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

He'd seen her tears then and lowered his face to hers, kissing them away as he added in a husky whisper, "I can't wait another day. I won't wait." He rained kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her eyelids as he spoke, never breaking the slow and forceful rhythm of his movements. "I want you," he'd continued as he brushed his lips against hers. "I want you forever. You and me. Now."

She had crested over at that moment, her body quaking with the combined effects of his steady, thrusting motions as well as his passionate words. Even as her arms and legs had gripped him tightly in a vise-like grip, her inner core had melted as she rode the crest of wave upon wave of warmth, a buzzing hum of pleasure rippling deep in her belly. He had quickened his pace then, plunging deeper, until he cried out, at first a sharp shout, then a low, guttural moan as he sank his face next to her neck. He'd remained there, in suspended animation, for a few moments before seeming to find the ability to move again. "Oh gods, Mione," he'd panted, pulling back to look her over and take her face in his hands. "Sweet Merlin, I love you so much."

She felt tears rise to her eyes again at the memory. She had no doubt how dear she was to him, and she wondered if she would ever be able to properly tell him how deeply she returned the feeling. Perhaps it didn't need to be said anymore. Perhaps the truths revealed in Odette's laboratoire were self-evident. Was their meeting Fate or Fortune? The answer hardly mattered anymore. They were meant to be. That was that.

Hermione smiled and felt a flutter in her chest at the thought. Pressing her cheek more firmly against his chest, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to overtake her yet again.

~~ FINIS ~~

Well, dear readers, this is pretty much where I had hoped to end up when I first began this story so long ago.

I want to once again thank kjc1123 for the original inspiration. Even more than that, I want to thank the many, many readers who reached out to offer support, especially when the going got tough. I wouldn't have made it to the finish line on this story without your encouragement, believe me. I owe a special debt of gratitude to chemrunner57, who has been such a steady champion of my work. It means the world to me, chem, it really does.

I hope this story finds you well, happy, safe and sound wherever in the world you may be.

Please take a moment to review. I read each and every review and revel in them all. And if you enjoyed this story, please share it with your fellow Romione lovers.

My next project: Finishing "The Way We Will Be." Stay tuned!

In the meantime, all the best, dear readers …

Holly.