We danced around the fire that night
Holding our candles high
We wait to float off into the sky
Like lanterns burning bright
Valiant Hearts - "Medusa"
Ron believed that magic truly was everywhere, that even muggle houses could be steeped in magic. In this instance, he believed that this particular apartment building was cursed to the foundation, for there could truly be no other reason why the sun should miss the cheap blinds entirely and hit him directly in his eye so unerringly.
He groaned, rolling over and nuzzled against Hermione's soft skin, the overstuffed satin of her sleeping bonnet providing a comforting pillow to rest his forehead against. Sighing in relief and newfound comfort, Ron wrapped his arms around the sleeping girl, rubbing her soft belly where her tank top had ridden up.
It had been a long two days. The Grangers (or, the Wilkins technically) had taken the news that they would be forced to endure weeks of magical treatment in order to regain memories they hardly even believed were missing with about as much grace as could be expected. Which is to say that they demanded to go home and that the two teenage wizards who had just upended their whole lives not return with them.
Which was fair enough, in Ron's opinion. Not so in Hermione's, however.
The young woman, utter swot that she was, could not comprehend why her parents didn't want to know absolutely everything about what had happened. Ron expected the Grangers to be just like their daughter, wanting to spend hours talking about what they had forgotten, and clearly Hermione did too, to some extent, or else her sense of empathy simply didn't extend so far outside her sphere of experience, which was also a distinct possibility with Hermione. The rejection had hurt, though, was the thing. It had hurt, a lot, and Hermione had been inconsolable for some time after.
After an utterly draining morning that almost had Ron forgetting this was technically still the same night of his brother's funeral, the two had spent the afternoon talking to landlords about flats for rent.
Hermione had already been in contact with several of them back home, so they had gone from one appointment to another, touring a one-bedroom here and a studio there. This had gone on for hours while Hermione tried to deliberate between their temporary homes before Ron realised this was precisely why he had come along.
Taking her aside, Ron explained that they didn't need a furnished flat since the tent was still packed away in Hermione's bag, furniture along with it. With this bit of logic to hold onto, Hermione left the decisionmaking to Ron who quickly signed onto the cheapest bedsit from their list before his girlfriend could change her mind.
Ron did let her order in Thai food while he decorated their tiny, tile-floored hole in the wall with the tent's luxurious decor.
The two had eaten and fallen asleep shortly thereafter, physically and emotionally exhausted after two full days events.
Ron couldn't tell what time it was now, but the quality of sunlight suggested late morning, meaning they'd likely slept over twelve hours. Not that they hadn't needed it. Still, Ron felt his stomach knot with hunger, realising they had no actual groceries to speak of. They also needed to decide on a course of action now that the Grangers had essentially cut them off. Either way, it was time to wake up.
"Mione," he purred into Hermione's skin, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck and shoulders. He ran his hand tenderly up and down her side from hip to breast, gentling her awake.
"Mmm," the woman grumbled, fumbling blindly for his hand only to lace their fingers together and pull it to her chest in a cuddle. "Not yet," she begged, voice slurred and hoarse with sleep.
Ron nuzzled into her shoulder. "It's late, I think. We need to go buy food."
He felt her chest rise and fall in a sigh before she turned over. Nose to nose, Hermione lifted her hand to cradle his cheek, thumbing the soft stubble just starting to grow in. "It can wait," she implored, desperate in a way Ron couldn't remember ever seeing her, and Ron knew that while distracting her with sex wasn't exactly what he was there for, he also knew they could both use a little extra tenderness today.
"Yeah," he agreed and leaned forward to press his mouth to hers. He licked lazily inside, tasting the citrus and eucalyptus of their mouth-washing potion.
Hermione hummed in happy relief, her hand slipping to the back of his neck as she draped her bare leg over his own.
Ron groaned into her mouth as she pulled them together, his morning erection grinding into her wet heat through his shorts and her soft, cotton knickers.
Hastily, Ron reached for his wand, banishing their sleep clothes to the other side of the room before greedily pulling Hermione on top of him.
Hermione smiled into his mouth as she rocked into him. Her folds were hot against his skin, just starting to get slick. Ron nipped at her lip then suckled at the abused flesh as he pulled off her bonnet, his other hand coming up to palm her heavy breast.
He delighted at the weight of her breast in his hand, bringing his other down to pinch and rub at her opposite nipple, grinning at her gasp. Hermione had sensitive nipples, and it was just his luck that they were the quickest way to turn her on. Pulling away from her lips, Ron ducked to take one of her sweet peaks into his mouth, working her nipple with his teeth and tongue before sucking hard. Her grinding had become a definitive humping now, her clit riding the ridge of his cock and to be honest, Ron could get off just like that.
Hermione had other plans, though. Lifting off his lap, she reached down and positioned him at her entrance before smoothly bearing down to take him inside her. After a few indulgent rocks, Ron rolled them over, keeping them pressed flush together as he thrust slowly.
Ron spent minutes just rocking into her, sucking little kisses into the inviting brown skin of her neck before he finally couldn't take the teasing anymore. Sitting up on his knees, Ron held Hermione by the backs of her knees, keeping her thick thighs spread wide as he fucked her.
Hermione moaned aloud, her cry echoing loudly through the flat along with the obscene sounds of his hips crashing into hers. Ron was enraptured at the sight of her, her arm thrown over her head, braced against the headboard, her long, curly brown hair a riot against the pillows, tits bouncing mesmerisingly.
Ron knew he was going to cum soon, so he reached his hand down, spreading her smooth, swollen lips to thumb at her clit.
"Oh! Oh yes. Yes, Ron! Yes, right there- Yes! Yes, yes, God- Fuck! Yes, Yes!" Hermione babbled in praise and pleading as she arched her back into his ministrations. Freeing her leg to gain a bit of leverage, she met his thrusts with equal fervour as he pulled her other leg up over his shoulder, letting him hit the right angle inside her. Soon, though, it was too much for him. He pulled out, fisting his dripping cock once, twice before striping her chest with his cum.
Ron panted for several seconds before Hermione's whimpers hit his ears and he remembered that his girlfriend had been left unsatisfied. Not to be outdone by the likes of Viktor Krum (he really, really hadn't needed to hear those details about their sex life, it was hard enough not to be jealous of her past relationship when the Quidditch star's sexual prowess wasn't being shoved into his face), Ron slid three of his fingers inside her hot, grasping cunt. His fingers wasted no time in finding that soft spot and rubbing into it mercilessly, the heel of his hand catching just right against her clit.
Ron kissed her fiercely, sucking on her tongue as he drove her to her climax. His mouth muffled her scream as she clenched around his fingers, cumming suddenly as the tension within her finally broke. She pulled away, head pressed back against the pillow, body arching as she chased her climax, milking it as she humped his hand.
He only pulled away when she'd slumped back into the mattress, wrung out. With a flick of his wand, he cast a quick evanesco on them both to banish the cum before collapsing onto his stomach beside his girlfriend.
"You are such a tit man," she panted eventually, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Ron shrugged. "I know what I like. You've got top-notch knockers, what can I say?"
"Ugh," she rolled her eyes in false disgust then turning to smile softly at him.
Ron quirked a grin back, leaning over to peck her softly on the side of the mouth.
"Shower," she stated when he pulled away, levering herself upright. "Then groceries."
Ron rolled to the edge of the mattress and gracelessly scrambled off, following the vision of his girlfriend as she wobbled naked to the bathroom, using the toilet as he let her fiddle with the odd muggle mechanics of the shower. Ron climbed in, letting Hermione take her turn on the loo, pouring a palmful of Sleekeazy into his hand before lathering his sodden ginger hair.
He shivered when the curtain pulled open behind him, bringing with it the cold draft of winter air from the apartment.
"How are you feeling," he asked, switching places to let Hermione take the spot beneath the spray, watching worriedly as she worked the water through her thick hair.
"Don't think too highly of yourself," she answered wryly reaching for her conditioner instead of the hair potion he preferred, "I feel fine. You haven't broken me with your -"
"I mean, emotionally!" Ron hurried to cut her off, "With everything that's gone on. With yesterday and, well, the rest of yesterday, I guess."
He winced as she deflated. She purses her lips, looking away from him as she began to work the conditioner into her hair.
"I really don't know," she admitted. "On one hand, I understand where they're coming from; I do! Just, I don't know how to fix it. I didn't anticipate not being able to undo my charms. I thought they'd be angry, but I didn't think they'd refuse to know me all together. What if they decide not to get back in contact? What if they decide they'd rather forget they had a past life at all and just move on with their new lives? With their new son, God. Ron, they had another child while I was gone! What am I supposed to do about that? How am I supposed to feel? Obviously they thought they didn't have any other children, that was the whole point, but… I didn't expect them to replace me."
"They haven't replaced you," Ron reassured, coming forward to rub her slick skin with a soapy cloth. "They knew they were missing something important, is all. Probably they still felt like that something was missing even after baby Hugh was born, because a part of them knew he wasn't you."
"Hugo," Hermione corrected, letting him wash her. "I don't know. I feel like my parents just disowned me, except they're not my parents right now so I have no right to feel this way, especially since I am the one who disowned myself, technically."
"It's complicated, that's for sure. We're lucky the healer didn't call the MLE on us."
"On me, you mean," Hermione smiled weakly as they rinsed. "It definitely is complicated though, you've got that right. How are you handling it?"
Ron shrugged. "Tired. I see you struggling and I feel like I need to be doing more to help but I don't know how. I'm glad to be here instead of back home right now; this is definitely where I'm meant to be right now, but God, yesterday was too much. I don't know what we're meant to do now. That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, figure out a plan of action for us so we don't overdo it like we did yesterday."
Hermione nodded. "Yesterday was too much," she agreed as they stepped out, drying them both with a flick of her wand, causing them both to shiver compulsively with the sudden chill of the water evaporating all at once. "We should have just moved in here and gone to bed instead of doing everything all at once, but I was so determined to get everything out of the way first thing. Now I've ruined it."
"You haven't ruined anything. Let's give them some time to get their heads around things and then we can go back and try to talk to them again. They can't just go back to how things were knowing they have a daughter out there they've forgotten about. They're just overwhelmed right now. Eventually they'll be burning with curiosity, not to mention parental worry for you. They won't forget about you again. Just give them a little time,"
Hermione smiled tearily in thanks before they were interrupted by the tinkling of bella ringing throughout the apartment.
Hermione inhaled sharply, running out of the bathroom back to the bedroom where her prepaid mobile sat ringing on the table. Fumbling with the device she managed to answer it before it rang out.
"Hello!" She greeted breathlessly.
"Yes this is she,"
"Six o'clock. Tonight?"
"Yes! Yes we'll be there!"
"See you…"
Hermione stared at the mobile for a moment before raising wide eyes to Ron. "They want us to come to dinner."
Hermione was in a daze the rest of the day. Without Ron there, she was afraid she may have simply overthought herself into an abyss of anxiety. As it was, Ron handled the grocery list and the cooking until finally it was time to get ready for dinner.
They hadn't packed anything formal, but Hermione still pulled out their nicest clothes, which basically boiled down to their least-worn pairs of jeans and a blue checked button down for Ron with a bit of nice red tartan detailing. Hermione herself decided on a thin peplum floral top.
She spent a full hour on her hair and make-up, even with the help of magic, simply because she couldn't make up her mind, but as she ran out of time, she'd had to settle on a natural look and a fairly simple halo braid.
And then there was nothing left to occupy her.
Ron gently laced their fingers together as they waited on a cab. "It'll be ok," he reassured and Hermione nodded, determined.
"Yes, it will."
The sun was just starting to edge along the horizon when they pulled up outside the Grangers' - the Wilkins' house at just five minutes past six o'clock. Hermione smoothed the front of her blouse as Ron knocked at the front door.
Hugo didn't answer this time. Instead, Simone, or Monica answered the door in a smart red jumper with a crisp white shirt underneath.
"Hello," she greeted them warily.
"Hello," Hermione returned awkwardly, as Ron raised his hand in a half-wave. "We're very glad to be here. Um, we brought some wine!" Hermione pulled a bottle of Yellow Tail she knew for a fact that her parents enjoyed out of her limitless bag.
"Oh," her mother said, taking the bottle. "Thank you, that- You didn't have to go to the trouble."
Hermione waved the comment away. "We're really grateful that you're allowing us back here, it really is the least we can do."
"Yes…" Simone murmured, but Hermione couldn't tell which statement, if any, she was actually agreeing with. "Well don't stand outside in the cold. Come in," she stood aside to let them by, taking Hermione's jacket when she shrugged out of it to put on a hook by the door.
The inside was as clean and cozy as it had been the day before. It was a surprisingly spacious inside, or it seemed to be with the beechy wooden floors and functional furniture, most of which actually had come from their home in Leeds. It felt both startlingly familiar and starkly unfamiliar at the same time.
"Wendell's made lasagna. I hope that's all right with you both?"
"Lasagna is my favourite," Hermione admitted, trying to keep the sudden swell of emotion out of her voice.
"Oh…"
The open floor plan led them from the living room to the dining area, a galley kitchen visible from the large, round table where Wendell, or Winson - damn but this was confusing! - set a large steeming pan of lasagna. "Give me just one moment," he said without looking, "I've got garlic bread just about ready." He whirled around as she and Ron were seated by her mother.
Hermione was sat next to Hugo, already situated in a booster cushion with crayons and a colouring page, presumably to occupy him until it was time to eat. Simone took the toddler's other side, leaving the seat between her and Ron open for her husband.
"You weren't formally introduced to Hugo before, were you? He- we didn't have him until after we moved here."
"No," Hermione breathed. She shifted in her seat, squaring her shoulders as she put on her friendliest persona. "Hello Hugo, my name is Hermione. I'm your sister."
"I 'aven' got a sister," Hugo stated matter of factly, and in spite of the statement itself, Hermione knew this boy was definitely her brother.
"You have," she insisted, "only, I've been away for a while. But I'm back now, and I'd like to get to know you, to properly be your big sister like I ought to have been. If," she raised nervous eyes to Simone, who was staring with an uncomfortable look she didn't quite know how to read. "If that's all right with your mummy and daddy, that is." It was after a heartbreaking hesitation that Simone nodded, unsure; whether of herself or of Hermione, was unclear.
Winston returned with the garlic bread, sliced and arranged on a serving tray. "Well," he said, clearly forcing cheerfulness, "let's have it, everyone! Hermione, you first."
Hermione was hit by the ease with which her voice rolled off her father's tongue, but she did her best to hide it, holding up the ceramic plate for him to place a steaming square of lasagne and a slice of garlic bread. He also placed a tong-full of mixed salad into a small salad bowl and handed it to her as well before turning to Ron and serving him in the same way.
"So, Hermione," Winston said as he turned to serve his wife, "tell us about yourself. You say you're our daughter, and I mean, I saw the pictures and everything but we really know nothing about you, except that you're a witch. And you, young man! Your name is Ronald, is that right?"
"Uh, yes sir, Ron Weasley," Ron said, swallowing his mouthful of salad. "Hermione's my, well, I mean she's my girlfriend now, but really we've been best mates since we were eleven. Us and our friend Harry Potter. Harry and I, we've been best mates since the day we met, but we became friends with Hermione after we took down a troll together that went after her in the girl's loo, first year. Man, I tell you, there's no one can do charms like Hermione!" Ron boasted proudly, oblivious to Hermione's frantic cease and desist motions.
"A- a troll, you say?" Wendell said.
"Like a- a fairy, right?" Simone offered in desperate confusion.
Hermione closed her eyes briefly to breathe. "No, it's what you're imagining. A ten-foot mountain troll. In our school bathroom."
"And we let you continue going to this school?!" Simone asked, aghast, face pale in the terror she imagined she would have felt at the time.
Hermione shrugged. "I didn't tell you. And the school didn't release a detailed memo about the incident. Look," she put down her fork and knife, setting her hands on the table, "our headmaster was… he was fighting a war. Or, he was preparing to, anyway. And his main weapon turned out to be our best friend, Harry. He knew, even back then, that Harry would be the key to saving the wizarding world. To saving countless muggles like you and muggleborns like me. He knew that in the long run, it was the end that justified the means. To that end, however… he really… played it a bit fast and loose with the safety of the student population, and Ron and I, we didn't escape the indoctrination that Harry received from him. We were a package deal, so. So, if the headmaster wanted a Hero, well, he got three for the price of one. There was no way I was going to tell you about what really happened at school if it was just going to worry you, especially since I survived everything anyway, and there was no way I was going to tell you that it was our headmaster that put us up to risking our lives, personally."
"We've talked about it a lot," Ron said, "since his death and since the Battle of Hogwarts, last month. We didn't realise at the time what he was doing, how he was- was- was"
"Brainwashing," Hermione offered.
"Was brainwashing us! - Thanks 'Mione.- We didn't know. We were proud to do what we could to help people. We were happy to be the heroes, you know? It wasn't until, well, until Harry died that we realised we shouldn't have had to be."
Simone gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Your friend died?" Winston asked gently, reaching for the bottle of wine without looking.
Hermione nodded. "Temporarily, yes. But he martyred himself willingly, and that. That's when I realised that that was Dumbledore's plan all along. So, I'm sorry. Really, I am, for not telling you then what was going on. For, well for everything. Everything. I'm so-" her voice cracked and she couldn't stop the tears this time, sobbing into her hands, shoulders shaking.
She felt Ron lean over to wrap his arm around her, holding her as she cried. Then she felt a small hand tugging at the hem of her blouse. She gasped, sniffling and looked down to see Hugo standing by her chair holding a dinosaur soft toy.
The toddler held the toy out to her and she took it, giving him a watery smile. "Oh, thank you!" she said as he pats her knee consolingly like he'd seen someone do that on telly but didn't know why.
Hermione held the dinosaur in her lap, pushing her face into it for a moment to get her bearings. "Sorry," she said again. "This has been… you must know that I didn't do any of this with malicious intent. I was trying to protect you, and put myself in the best position I could think of to do what I had to do. I don't- I don't regret it," she admitted. "Even knowing what I know now, even if we could go back and change everything, I don't know if I wouldn't have done it all more or less the same. Dumbledore was right, in a way. The greater good was more important to him than the casualties along the way, and… and I agree, sort of. I shouldn't have had to do what I did at such a young age. I would try to save my friends what they went through, especially Harry. But me? I would probably do it all again. Every time. How could I not?" She shrugged, helplessly, unable to convey more clearly than that the responsibility she felt to do what she could, however she could.
Winston nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, and miracle of miracles, he looked like he actually did.
The rest of dinner went smoother. Hermione and Ron traded stories of the good times they'd had, what they'd learned at school. Hermione told her parents about all her favourite memories with them growing up.
She told them about finding out she was a witch, not from her Hogwarts letter, but because she'd read Matilda the year earlier, and when she tried to move her pencil the way the little witch in her book had, it had moved. She told them how homesick she was when she first got to Hogwarts, how she had struggled all her life to make friends until Harry and Ron had let her into their clique.
She told them about dating an international sports star her fourth year, much to Ron's chagrin (although she left out the actual details about the TriWizard Tournament), then about how Ron had saved them in the forest.
"There had been feelings before, but that was really when... "
Ron told them about Fred and George's escapades, and how his brother had died the month before.
"I really don't know how any of us would have managed without Hermione to rally everyone into order," he said, shooting her a grateful look. "That's why I'm here, really. I just wanted to give Hermione what she gave to me. I wanted to be something she could depend on through all of this." Hermione blushed and teared up again, reaching over to squeeze her boyfriend's hand.
They told them their stories, and in return, the Wilkins told their own. They told them about how they had come to Australia with a plan, with a house and job interviews already lined up. Hermione blushed at the mention of her manipulations, but they didn't say anything about it. They told them about making friends with their neighbours and coworkers, about how Wendell had determinedly learned to cook all the classic Australian dishes.
They told them about deciding on having Hugo despite their ages.
"We knew we were getting up there, and if we waited any longer we'd run out of time. Obviously, we didn't know we had a child back home in England, but it was something that we wanted, desperately. We took fertility treatments for months to get pregnant and when we finally did, we were just ecstatic. We couldn't have been happier. I'm glad now that we had a boy, too. You know we love classical literature, it's one of the things we've always bonded over. Well if we had a boy, which we did, I'd always wanted to name him Hugo, you know, after Victor Hugo. But if we'd had a girl, well… Wendell was dead set on Hermione, from The Winter's Tail."
By the end of the night the group was chatting freely, Hugo long since put to bed. The conversation had gone a long way in forging a bridge between them that they could use later in really repairing their relationship, she felt.
"Will we be able to come back?" she asked when they were at the door.
"Yes of course," Wendell assured.
"How about this weekend", Hermione insisted. "Sunday, after church. Come to our place and we'll make brunch."
Wendell - her father - smiled and pat her shoulder. "Sunday it is, then," he agreed as Simone leant in to give them both a brief hug.
"I can't believe it," Hermione said when the door was shut, as they made their way out to the waiting taxi. "We actually might be able to fix this."