"Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in."

— Robert Frost

Bound To

Return Home

Chapter 2

2 May 2008

The Battle of Hogwarts

Hermione dropped to her knees. With hands to her chest, her breath became more and more ragged.

How do you breathe? She asked herself. I've forgotten how to breathe.

The sobbing of her comrades became a distant hum as a shrill ringing filled her ears. So loud, it made her vision blur — or were those tears?

She'd never felt so distraught. Even when she obliviated her entire being from her parent's minds, she hadn't been this devastated. They were alive, after all. Safe. But Harry was dead.

Rage filled her heart as her eyes landed on Voldemort. His cocky laughter was now all she could hear. His laughter and that of his fucking Death Eater sycophants. Savagely, they wielded the Dark Arts to kill innocent people whose only flaw in their eyes was being born without "pure" blood. Fear drove many of them, but violent bigotry also lived in each of their souls. While he had no choice but to defend his life and that of others, Harry was also fighting against Death Eaters' narrow-minded views. He died fighting against them.

And Hermione refused to let that be in vain.

She scrambled to her feet. Harry's last request of her and Ron was to kill Nagini if he couldn't. Hermione intended to fulfill his final wish.

Sometimes, she told herself, you have to fight fire with fire. She was one of the most talented witches of her age. She studied, all of her professors noted, more than any student they knew. And she found herself studying subjects far beyond what anyone might have fathomed.

Yes, Hermione had prepared to fight fire with fire — because, ahead of the war, she'd done independent research on every piece of magic she knew Voldemort himself had learned. That included the Dark Arts.

The Killing Curse wasn't difficult to perform when it came down to it. If the scorn and wrath were there, and you without a doubt wanted your opponent dead, it was pretty easy. And she had every intention of pointing the curse directly at what little heart Voldemort possessed, to annihilate what she imagined was a hardened and black mass. If her heart was broken, so too would his be.

But she had priorities, and killing Nagini was top of her list. For the gargantuan snake, The Killing Curse would have to do, too.

Hate coursed through her body. It rose from the tips of her toes and descended from the depths of her mind. She channeled it all through her arm until her wand pulsed in her hand. Hermione lifted it and almost uttered the curse when Neville stepped forward, Sorting Hat behind his back.

Panic crossed her face. What was Neville doing? "Neville!" she hissed, but he ignored her, marching downhill towards the reptilian despot. As the two exchanged words, Hermione couldn't let it continue. She refused to stand back in silence and witness Neville's murder. She lifted her wand again, pointing it this time at Voldemort before he sic'd Nagini on her friend. With hate filling her every fiber, her rage swelling, and wand pulsating, she began, "Avada Ke—"

Then from the Sorting Hat, Neville extricated the Sword of Gryffindor and sliced the snake's neck clean from its body. The earsplitting scream that exited Voldemort's mouth was trumped by the impossible.

Harry dropped from Hagrid's arms and onto his feet into a fighting stance.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. Harry Potter was still alive.

16 May 2020

The Burrow was just as she'd remembered. Rebuilt from the ashes of the fire set by Death Eaters, The Burrow stood again multiple stories high. When she first visited, she always feared it'd topple over with everyone inside, but the magic seemed to be as strong as ever.

She and Ron had apparated near the barn. Nostalgically, she looked around her surroundings. Gnomes still tore through the garden. Chickens still wandered around the yard. It was like nothing had changed… except Hermione.

She swallowed hard. Her anxiety was worse than it had been in years. Hermione thought she'd prepared herself for visiting the world she left behind, but she was mistaken. Regret that she left her anxiety pills at the inn washed over her. Why didn't she take more than two?

Ron gave her a sideways look — it slowly grew into concern. "'Mione, what's wrong?"

Hermione rapidly shook her head, plastering on the smile she'd had too much time to master. Sometimes she even fooled herself into thinking she was okay. "Nothing's wrong. Just a little nervous, being back and all."

He grinned. "Hey, nothing to worry about here! Everyone's glad you've returned home."

Home. What an intriguing concept. After her parents moved to Australia, the idea of home no longer made sense to her. Some said home wasn't necessarily a physical place, but a state of mind, something you carried with you everywhere you'd go. Others said home was the space you create with friends and family. But Hermione had neither. Not anymore. She had colleagues in the Muggle world whom she infrequently socialized with, and maybe one person she saw more often, but her life was a humdrum cycle. And, said as it was, she felt too empty to be at home with herself. Now, she occupied a mere house. She had no home.

Hermione shook her head of the thought. It wasn't the time to refute Ron's claim that she was home. Her purpose was to visit before returning to her life — returning to an empty house and a cyclical existence. It was better than confronting the world she departed.

Ron opened the door leading into the kitchen. Molly Weasley must've started cooking, or at least prepping, before the funeral because already multiple pots were stirring and an assortment of vegetables chopped midair. Mrs. Weasley was in the center of it all. She stood before a line of three turkeys, the first of which she was slamming her fist inside, stuffing it with various foods.

"Mum, look who I found!" Ron exclaimed as he burst forward into the room. Hermione took more timid steps as she crossed the threshold.

Mrs. Weasley snapped her head up. Hermione couldn't miss the cringe that briefly crossed her face. Replacing the cheeky look with a smile, Mrs. Weasley hurried forward and wrapped Hermione in a warm hug that almost crushed her body. The hug likely reflected Mrs. Weasley's conflicted feelings toward the younger woman. "Oh, Hermione! It's so lovely to see you again. You've been gone far too long. Come in, come in! Would you like some tea? A butterbeer? Perhaps wine? I have Elderflower and nettle. Oh! And elf-made wine, too. It's my favorite whenever I have a chance to take a sip. Not too much, though. Don't want to turn into a Mundungus."

A trace of a smile graced her lips. "I'm alright, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you. It's great to see you, as well. I wish it were under different circumstances."

She let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, me too, dear. Losing Hagrid is a huge loss. we all feel his missing presence. He sure could fill a room with joy, couldn't he?"

Hermione's smile widened as a fondness for the man entered her heart. "Yes. Yes, he sure could."

A silence fell between them all. Hermione didn't know what to say! Ron and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a look before the matriarch rubbed both of Hermione's arms up and down. "I'm so pleased to see you, but I have to keep cooking. Ron, tell Fleur to hurry in and help! And take Hermione to see everyone. They're in the sitting room."

With a vague smile, Mrs. Weasley turned back to cooking, whipping her wand to turn a radio on. Dancing helped her move fluidly as she juggled various tasks simultaneously.

Ron jerked his head towards the sitting room. She could hear the merriment and laughter, but Hermione's feet seemed stuck in place. Convincing herself to move toward the room full of people felt impossible. She didn't feel ready to face them all.

That concerned look flashed across his face again. "Hey," he said. "I'm right here. Remember, I'm banning George from playing any pranks! Besides, you have to meet the kids."

As she entered the room, Hermione saw far more people than she anticipated. Though her anxiety immediately intensified, she attempted to take deep breaths through her nose without notice. That practiced smile donned her face again.

"Won't believe who I found wandering the grounds of Hogwarts!" Ron exclaimed just as he had done in the kitchen.

A round of excited cheers erupted from the entire room as Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George led the pack to surround Hermione, lifting her into a bear hug. Her forced smile remained intact though she felt herself beginning to panic. Glancing around the circle, Hermione noticed Harry was nowhere in the group. Good, she thought to herself. I'm not ready to be near him.

"Hey, hey, let her breathe!" Ron said through a laugh, leaning in the doorway and watching the scene unfold. Hermione then noticed little kids surrounding her as well, tugging on the bottom of her skirt.

"Who's she? Who's she!" There must've been ten kids, all probably under nine years old, curiously staring at her.

"It's Hermione, William!" Bill exclaimed, lifting the boy who must've been three into his arms. "You've never met her, but she's practically your aunt!"

"Hi, Aunt Hermione!" The boy gleefully yelled, causing the room to coo and laugh.

Charlie wiggled his brows at Hermione. "If I'd known you'd become so fit, I would've never vowed not to marry."

"You can always break it," George offered.

"And be dead? No amount of beauty will have me trade my life."

"By all means, do it! We'd be so much better for it!" The room burst into laughter again at George's words, Angelina swatting his arm. It was good to see their relationship led to marriage. Neville was there, too, along with Dean and Seamus and Luna and Katie and a few other faces she didn't recognize. The newest members of the Order, she gathered. Her eyes wrapped around and landed on Harry. He was quiet, which wasn't too rare for the boy. He slowly was sipping his whiskey in deep contemplation, it seemed. Hermione averted her eyes, doing her best to ignore him and focus on the friends she'd all but abandoned.

"Come on, hurry. We're just drinking firewhisky, sharing stories of our dear Hagrid," Charlie insisted, pulling Hermione on the couch between him and Fleur. Which reminded Hermione.

"Fleur, Mrs. Weasley asked for you in the kitchen."

The veela descendant sighed, her lip slightly curling up in a sneer. How she managed to make the typically displeasing expression so beautiful was a gift Hermione once longed to have. As Fleur made her way to the kitchen, her intoxicating aura impacting all in the room, Ron hurriedly found himself sitting in her place. He leaned forward and poured himself firewhisky, then held his glass high.

"To Hagrid!"

"To Hagrid!" And everyone took gulps of their drink.

Ron poured another glass of fire whiskey and handed it to Hermione. She shook her head. "No, really, I'm fine."

"Nuh-unh. Hagrid would piss himself if he knew everyone wasn't drinking in his honor! So take this. And one more time, everybody. TO HAGRID!"

"TO HAGRID!"

Hermione feebly took a sip. Her crooked grin prompted the room to cheer. Ron pulled her in a half hug, leading the revelry.

"As a return gift, Hermione," George leaned forward from an overstuffed chair across the table. "Here's my latest invention, I call it the Topsy Turvy Jelly Bean Scurvy. Everyone's already had their share. Go on, take it!"

Ron intercepted and snatched it from George's hand. "Hey, no pranks, alright? The only condition Hermione came was that you played no pranks on her."

The room briefly fell into silence — she could've kicked Ron.

"Huh?" Charlie spoke first. "You needed convincing to come for a visit?"

Ron's mouth flapped open, "N-no, I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Ron," Hermione said with a laugh. "I just have to return hom… I mean, back to the Muggle world. I have work, and I need to get a few tasks done before I go into the office."

Silence reigned again - Hermione felt heat creeping up her neck. Then the four eldest Weasleys threw a barrage of questions her way.

"You're leaving so soon?!"

"What's so bloody important about work that you can't stay for a dinner or three?!"

"Do you think Molly Weasley would let you get away with not visiting?!"

"Well, maybe she would—" George snickered. "After she left so abruptly, Mum wasn't too fond of OUCH!"

Angelina had kicked George's shin, giving him a sharp look. He gripped his injured limb and looked at his wife. "What?! It's the truth!"

"If only you learned how to keep those flapping jowls shut — maybe you should vow never to speak again."

The room laughed once more as Hermione turned to the voice. It was Ginny. Beaming brightly at Hermione, the other girl flashed that brilliant smile. She was beautiful as ever, her bright red hair cut in stylish layers that perfectly framed her cherubic face. Then Hermione's gaze dropped to the girl's arms.

In them, she rocked a baby.

Hermione's smile slowly faded. She couldn't help but look at Harry, who sat beside her continuing to ignore his former best mate. Hermione wanted to do the same, but the baby had thrown her off. She should've known there was a child. Harry and Ginny had been married for five years, according to the wedding invitation Hermione declined. Still, seeing Ginny lovingly cradle the precious infant reminded Hermione of one of the biggest reasons she couldn't bear staying in wizarding London.

She looked back at the baby with a subdued smile as Bill asked, "So what've you been up to, Hermione? Ten years with no contact, we know nothing about you!"

She bit her lip. "It has been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"Uh duh!" George and Charlie said at the same time.

Hermione couldn't stop the grin. Maybe it was the fire whiskey that was putting her at ease. "I'm working as a human rights attorney and advocate."

"Just humans?" Luna piped up. "I'd think you'd want to fight for the rights of all magical creatures."

"Well, she doesn't work in the wizarding world, now does she?" Ron put in, pouring himself another glass of fire whiskey before passing it around. All the guests filled their cups as well.

"Hey, why can't you come back and do that here? You're bloody brilliant! I bet you'd climb the ranks at the Ministry without missing a step!" Neville exclaimed. Everyone voiced their agreement.

"We've missed you, Hermione. Now, coming back is an extreme request," Ginny said through a laugh, "but why not visit more? Harry and I miss you so much."

Hermione choked on the whisky sliding down her throat. Ron clapped her on the back unnecessarily hard as Hermione regained her breath. When Ron kept whacking with too much force, Hermione swatted his hands away. He raised his hands in surrender while she caught her bearings. Harry? Miss her? Please! How could she do anything but choke at the idea! Everyone knew the two were no longer on speaking terms after the huge fight they had years before. She had refused to tell anyone what happened. Only months later, she decided to leave the wizarding world to begin a new life in London. To this day, she never told a soul why the argument completely devastated their relationship.

"Well, I'm here for the day!" She put on a false grin, clapping her hands excitedly. She was performing, but it seemed to be the only way to divert attention from her. And she knew the perfect strategy. "Enough about me! TO HAGRID!"

Everyone grabbed their glasses with just as much zeal. "TO HAGRID!"

And the festiveness picked up again as conversations broke out amongst the group. Hermione noticed a few of the older members of the Order missing. So few had survived. Perhaps they'd arrive later. Or maybe it was as painful for them as it was for Hermione to lose another comrade.

"Nice move, there," Ron whispered in her ear. She turned to look at him and bumped her forehead against his. They laughed.

"You know I've never liked to be the center of attention," she whispered back.

He snorted. "Then thank Merlin you left. Your disappearance was the talk of the town. The Daily Prophet reported on it for two months before moving on to the next scandal."

Hermione raised a brow. "Scandal? Was my move really a scandal?"

Ron shrugged. "The way they spun it, it was. I mean, you did publicly reject my proposal."

She knew it would come up. Understood a conversation would have to happen. But she didn't expect to hear about it so soon. Hanging her head low, she sat in silence. Just as she opened her mouth, he shook her shoulder chummily. "Never mind that. We're here to celebrate Hagrid. TO HAGRID!" he shouted.

Obligatorily, all raised their glasses, "TO HAGRID!"

They passed whiskey around the circle again, and, having finished her glass, Hermione poured another despite being flushed already. As she settled against the couch, she noticed Ron subtly slide his arm behind her head on the couch's back.

Of course, George couldn't keep his trap shut.

"Ooooh! Have the lovebirds reunited?" He called across the room. Similar ooohs followed. Ron turned beet red and moved his arm away while Hermione brought whisky to her lips.

"I don't think Lav would be too pleased with the sight!" Charlie hollered, and the room broke into laughter again. The lot was thoroughly drunk.

"Ignore them," Ron ground out between clenched teeth, staring daggers at his older brothers. "They get off on making people uncomfortable."

"I remember," Hermione giggled, then looked up into Ron's blue eyes. "So you and Lavender? That's nice. Once I stopped hating her, I saw she was a lovely girl."

Ron looked down at his lap. "Yeah, she's great… We just started dating again. A few months, now."

"Why isn't she here?"

"Visiting her Mum. She's not doing particularly well."

"Sorry to hear that. Well, too bad I can't visit. I'm sure I'll be gone before Lavender returns."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Are you seriously not going to stay a few more days? We haven't even had time to catch up. A lot has changed, you know? You've changed… I've changed."

His words sent a wave of sadness through her chest. Pointed words, the way he stated he changed. Hope's feathery touch was between the lines. But Hermione couldn't let on she heard it. "We have changed, haven't we? You look like Bill in his heyday with that long hair."

"Heyday?!" Bill yelled as he leaned across from Ron. "Whatcha trying to say there, Granger? I'm on a downward slope since the days I dressed like a rock god?"

Hermione laughed. "No, no! You're still a rock god, I see it. Ron just bears a striking resemblance to a younger you."

He harrumphed. "Okay, I'll accept that. Just remember, I'm nowhere close to peaking!"

"Understood," she said through a giggle, turning her attention back to Ron's glare. "What?! You do look like a younger Bill. You're just missing an earring. Wait, your ear's pierced! Do you wear an earring?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Look at you. A certified badass."

"So I've been told," he smirked. "I traveled all over the world when you left. Europe, Africa, Asia, the States, South America — explored both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. They're fascinating. I never looked beyond the fence in my backyard. But there's a whole world out there I didn't know existed." Emotion entered his gaze. "I went after you left. Needed more perspective, needed to understand why you cared so deeply about so much. I think I understand, now."

She placed her hand on his arm. "That's amazing, Ron. What an amazing journey you must've taken."

"And I want to tell you all about it. But I can't do that if you leave. Call in sick! Mad as Dad is about Muggle inventions — he's at work, by the way. He'll be home for dinner, we hope — he has a muggle phone you can use."

"Ron—"

"Just think about it! You can even stay here instead of at that bloody inn. Can't believe a banshee hasn't attacked you yet."

"Don't speak too soon."

The chatter continued for the next hour as drunkenness claimed more and more people. Hagrid would never have gotten drunk on what the group was drinking, but they weren't half-giants. Hermione found herself giggling more as the alcohol coursed through her veins. She talked to Luna and Neville, learning they'd been married for two years. Her chat with Charlie revealed his many exploits and why he opted not to marry (he simply loved being a bachelor). As the music played in the background, she let little William pull her hand and convince her to dance. George moved the table that separated everyone with a quick charm, leading Angelina to the makeshift dance floor. Everybody soon was dancing, the younger kids taking center stage in the middle of the room.

Hermione looked around at all the familiar faces. She forgot that such love was possible. Feeling it again made her realize how much it was missing in her Muggle life. Yes, there was a lot of pain being back, but she'd forgotten that joy lived here too.

Ron grabbed one of her hands and smiled. The two danced together, reminding Hermione of all the fun times they'd had.

How could she leave her best friend the way she did? She gulped and slowed her dancing. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry."

When she pulled away, she could see the emotion in his eyes. But he shook it off and pulled Hermione in a hug, not caring that the whole room seemed to be watching as if their dancing hid their curious glances. Hermione wiped the tears that had managed to leak from the corners of her eye. "So many feels today. I'll be back. Just need to use the loo."

"Same place it's always been."

She nodded and made her way to the second floor. Just as she reached for the knob, the door opened. Hermione jumped back in shock as she came face to face with Harry.

"Oh!" She said, red immediately flushing her cheeks. "I-I didn't know anyone was up here."

"No, no worries." He cleared his throat, and for a few seconds, they awkwardly stood there. Then, "Alright, I'll be seeing you."

Hermione watched him walk away, hating what had become of them. The fight they had was awful. They'd said things to each other that could never be unspoken. Her throat tightened just at the memory of it. But Hermione knew she couldn't leave the wizarding world in good conscience without at least getting on cordial terms with her former best friend.

"Harry, stop." She said meekly, half hoping he'd hear her, half hoping he wouldn't.

His back stiffened and he stood frozen for a moment before turning to face her.

They stood there, staring at each other for what had to be an entire minute, neither of them speaking. Hermione remembered the day his lifeless body hung in Hagrid's arms; how she lost her inability to breathe. Just as she did then, she said to herself, How do you breathe? I've forgotten how to breathe.

He spoke first. "I didn't think you'd come."

She nodded, hanging her head again in shame. "Honestly, I almost didn't… but I couldn't miss Hagrid's going away. He meant too much to me. To us."

Harry nodded, avoiding eye contact. The silence came again. She looked around at anything but him, hating the pensile tension between them. Being together was once so seamless, so easy. Now, just being near felt more challenging than their D.A. training.

Hermione opened her mouth at the same time he did.

"Hermione—"

"Harry—"

They both stopped, then laughed faintly. The moment was enough. She trudged forward. "I… you understand that I had to go, don't you?"

He looked solemn but nodded his head slowly. "I do."

"I just… couldn't do it anymore. There was too much pain back then. I didn't know how to process it. I needed space to breathe. Being here felt—feels—so suffocating."

He paused then met her eyes. "It suffocates me, too."

His understanding didn't surprise her as Harry had always been an intense boy. And that intensity carried into his adult life. Whenever they were together back then, a seriousness tended to wash over them. In the safe space they'd created, they shared secrets no one but them could understand. Their hopes and dreams and the darkness others brushed off with positivity.

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. The safe space they'd created.

It was him, wasn't it? Harry had been her home.

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears pressing on the back of her lids. Harry was her home. But she no longer had access to it. While she'd thrown away the key, he had locked the door. He was married with a kid while she moved through life like a zombie, homeless in the metaphysical sense of the word.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Harry had closed part of the chasm between them.

Finally, she whispered, "How do you do it? How do you pretend you're not drowning?"

He shrugged. "A day at a time. A breath at a time."

Hermione leaned against the wall, partially to put a bit of space between them. His closeness was interfering with her breathing, as it always did since the day she thought she'd lost him. But the space wouldn't last long. He leaned next to her against the wall, then slid down to the floor.

Though she was hesitant, Hermione followed suit. "A breath at a time, huh?"

A ghost of a smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come. "That's what my therapist says, at least."

"Yeah, my muggle therapist couldn't believe the tales I told her. Like, literally. I tried to convince her I was soldier honorably discharged, but she thought I was a pathological liar when I told her what I'd seen…" She stopped, forcing herself not to relive it. "Suffice to say, I grabbed some psychology books and workbooks and treated myself as best I could."

Harry chuckled. She turned her head to witness it. It was a sad sound, but buried deep within it was suppressed joy that hadn't seen daylight in quite some time. The thought that she could pull any bit of it out of him gave her hope.

"Of course you did. You seem pretty well-adjusted."

"Hey, don't let looks fool you."

He nodded and stared down at his shoes. They were loafers, expensive ones.

As if it were old times, she knocked her heel against his shoe. "What, are you into fashion now?"

He smirked. "No. I could do well with a muggle hoodie and sweatpants. But Ginny likes to dress me up."

The mention of his wife made her heart sink. The silence had returned. She hated that this could still pull forth emotion from her. Over the last three years, she managed to release the lingering feelings she had for the boy she once knew. He was never hers, no matter how much she wanted that to be the reality. She cleared her throat, swallowing the pain to put on a facade. She had to get through this. When she did, she could go back to her house and move forward again, forgetting him and the people she'd left behind.

"Cute kiddo you have. Looks just like Ginny."

Confusion crossed his face before laughter replaced it. Hermione couldn't help letting a genuine smile brighten her face. She hadn't heard that laugh in such a long time. Probably Year 6 was the last time he'd expressed any happiness — when he finally was with the girl of his dreams, Ginny.

Push it down, Hermione. Push it down.

"No, no, no. That's Bill's baby. Fleur gave birth a few months ago. No, Ginny and I don't have kids."

She despised herself when flutters spread through her stomach, happy to know Harry had no offspring.

Hermione joined in his chuckling. "Oh, I guess it's hard to tell the Weasleys apart sometimes."

"Yeah." He quieted as if contemplating what to say next. Hermione waited patiently. "Listen… the way we left things was—"

"Hey, it was so long ago," she interrupted.

"But we said some… some pretty harsh things to each other."

She didn't want to rehash this. "We did."

"And… I'm sorry it had to come to that."

Hermione looked in the opposite direction. She really, really didn't want to do this. So she put on her practiced smile and turned back. "Hey, bygones and such, right? It's in the rearview mirror. I'm happy that you seem to be happy, or well-adjusted—" he grinned at that —"despite everything you went through. You've done good, kid." She feigned a punch on his arm.

He stared at her incredulously, as if he was seeing through her carefully constructed facade. Then a lazy smile spread from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Okay."

She nodded. "Okay."

He rubbed his hands together, changing the energy to circumvent the budding tension trying to reprise its role. "When are you heading home?"

Internally, she laughed at the word, having discovered only moments before that her home may've always been with Harry.

"Everyone's attempting to persuade me to stay for a few more days."

"It'd be nice." He moved his gaze back to his loafers. "I've… We've missed you."

A thrill she'd repressed the day of their big blow-up began to trickle from her heart. Uh-oh.

Swallowing, she made eye contact. "I've missed you, too… A-all of you."

They held each other's gaze as shared sadness settled between them. Despite making up, there were still so many unsaid words between the pair. As simple as they wanted to make mending their relationship, there was far too much history. Therapy had taught them both that they'd never reenter the garden of their friendship if they didn't first cut away all the weeds blocking the beauty. They had to confront what led them to this point before they could ever be close again. And Hermione wasn't sure if she'd be willing to do that work. By the look on Harry's face, she could see he was unsure, too.

"I take it you two have made up?"

They sharply turned at the sound of Ron's voice. Hands in his pocket, he looked back and forth between the two.

Harry grinned. She wasn't alone in mastering a practiced smile. "It looks like it. Hermione?"

It was her turn to display a studied grin. "I'd say so." She reached out and grabbed Ron's hand, pulling him down. He grinned and sat cross-legged in front of them. Hermione held onto his hand and grabbed Harry's, ignoring the spark she felt run from her fingertips to her palm. "I've made a decision."

Ron beamed. Harry raised his brows. "The two of you have convinced me to stay another day."

Ron whooped while Harry smiled softly at Hermione. "I can work with that," Ron said. "But mark my words, by the week's end, you'll be packing your bags and returning home… to us."

Hermione looked between her two best mates, reunited again. Warmth spread throughout her body. With them, she always came alive, always returned to herself. And even if she had unresolved issues with both men, she realized the three of them together were home. At last, she was finally home.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews and feedback are always appreciated over here :)

Next Chapter — Bound To… Make It Better