Setting: Takes place after Ron and Hermione's sixth year. Rating: PG-13 for language Disclaimer: I own nothing. I could only dream…

A/N: Thanks to B Bennett for the beta. She corrected a lot of punctuation mistakes and helped make this story a lot better. Thank you so much!

Winding the Clock

"I don't want to believe that summer is past,

And it's time to leave.

But I fear it is so.

How do I know?

I saw the loons face the wind

And with the clumsy slapping of water,

With wings and feet,

They lifted into the air

Spiraling high and higher over the lake

Until they disappeared into the gray sky.

Are they coming back?

I think not.

I too must leave.

But before I go

I will wind the clock

So the tick tock can fill the silence

When I close the door

And when the clock runs down

And it tick tocks no more

The summer will be filled

With silence."

-Charles Lentz 1972

Prologue

The clock chimed five. Hermione sat quietly on the wooden steps of the cabin. The gentle tick-tock filled her ears again. She pulled her knees to her chest and gazed at the poem on the wall before her. A creaking sound from the bedroom at the top of the stairs didn't even make her budge.

The glass sliding door was open, allowing a cool breeze to enter the room. Strands of honey brown hair broke free from her ponytail to take flight with the wind. A mourning dove cooed from somewhere outside. The smell of mucky water reached her nose. Everything was so familiar but it seemed so different.

A hand on Hermione's shoulder made her jump. She turned and looked into a pair of blue eyes.

"You're still here?" Ron asked.

"Where else would I be?"

Ron ran a hand through his bedraggled, red hair. "But you were sitting here when I fell asleep…"

"I know," She whispered.

"You've been sitting here for two hours?"

She looked away from him and back at the poem on the wall.

Again, all that was heard was the clock. Hermione sensed that Ron was uncomfortable, "You don't have to stay."

Ron laughed. "I have the Floo powder, Hermione. I can't very well leave you behind."

"I meant that you could go outside or do whatever you want. I'll stay here."

Ron stood up and held out his hand. "Let's go for a walk."

"I really don't feel like it-"

"It'll be good for you."

Hermione looked at him closely and nodded. "All right."

Ron pulled the girl to her feet and stepped outside into the afternoon air. Hermione could feel that evening was coming upon them; the wind was dying down and the air smelled like charcoal. At the cottage evening started at four when the lake started to look as though it were glass.

Hermione put her hands in the front pocket of her sweatshirt and followed Ron down the hill to the shore. She walked directly to the end of their dock and sat down and put her bare feet into the warm water. Ron rolled up his trousers to his knees and waded in the shallow water in front of her, up and down the shoreline.

"How did you do it?"

Ron looked up at Hermione's abrupt question. "Do what?"

"Get over Percy's death."

Ron's always amused expression melted into a look that Hermione had not seen for months. His eyes grew sad and serious. I didn't. I think about him everyday. You can't lose someone and not think about them."

"Oh."

"But I've got to the point where I can laugh again."

"How?"

He smiled warmly. "You and Harry. My brothers, Ginny, Mum and Dad."

Hermione's shoulders slacked. "I feel so awful, you lost your brother and I'm whining about my grandfather."

"It doesn't matter who you lose. You were close to him."

A sunfish nibbled on Hermione's toe, she moved her foot scaring it away. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't lose this place, too, Ron."

Ron looked up. "Maybe it won't sell."

Hermione snorted, wiping away her tears. "Yeah right. Do you know what this land is worth? Quiet lakefront property? It'll be gone in a heartbeat."

"Okay, that's true." He waded toward her. "But you have picture and memories and - ow!" He grabbed the edge of the dock with one hand. "Bloody hell!" He peered into the crystal clear water, then reached down for something.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Ron climbed onto the dock and sat next to her. He opened his hand revealing a small, silver ring. Hermione's brown eyes went wide with realization. She snatched it from his hand to study it.

"Do you know whose it is?"

Hermione's mouth was dry. "It's mine," she croaked.

"A little small, don't you think?

Hermione felt tears well in her eyes again. "I got it when I was seven! I lost it when I threw it in the lake for a wish…"

"A wish?"

Hermione smiled at Ron and rubbed away some of the slime on the ring. "My grandpa told me to make a wish and throw this into the lake. He said if I ever got it back, my wish would come true."

Ron nodded. "What was your wish?"

"I can't tell you."

"Okay, we can play that game."

"Ron," Hermione sighed. "You know the rules: no telling people what you wished for."

"You can't possibly have the same wish from when you were seven."

"I never said I was seven when I threw it in."

"When did you throw it in?"

"When I was ten."

Hermione slipped the ring onto her pinky finger; for the first time in three days she smiled. Maybe she was wrong about her wish. It was possible that her grandfather was right about believing in fate. "Do you think my wish came true?"

"How the hell should I know?" Ron huffed. "I don't even know what the damn wish is." He put his feet in the water, not noticing that his trousers had rolled back down and were now getting soaked.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You're really bothered by this aren't you?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm not bothered by some wish, it's rubbish."

"Then watch your mouth."

Across the lake a loon dived beneath the surface of the water. The sun was already setting and the sky was beginning to turn orange. Hermione looked at her watch. It was almost six o'clock, which meant they would have to leave soon. She had forgotten that she and Ron needed to be back at the Burrow before seven, when his parents were due to return.

"You know what you should do?" Ron interrupted her thoughts.

"Hmm? What?"

"Bring something home from your cabin to remember it by. That's what I did." He reached beneath his T-shirt to pull out a plain silver chain, which glistened in the sunlight. "This necklace was Percy's, it's an ugly old thing, but it makes me feel better."

Hermione was surprised that she had never noticed the necklace before. "That's a good idea."

"I thought so."

Hermione thought about what she could take home to remember the cabin by. There were so many things that she had to leave behind… It was impossible to choose.

A fish jumped in the lake making a small ripple on the glassy water. Across the lake near the island a small fishing boat floated silently, the man inside waiting patiently for a bite.

"I wished for you," Hermione blurted.

Ron's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Hermione blushed deeply. "I've never really had friends, Ron, and I wanted one. That's what I wished for. Someone just like you."

"What about Harry?" Ron asked with a frown.

"He and I aren't as close as we are. He's your best friend. But you're mine. Don't get me wrong I love Harry but… Do you believe in fate, Ron?"

Ron frowned, "I guess so-"

"That ring was fate."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you didn't like this divination stuff…"

She groaned. "I thought my grandpa was the answer to my wish, my friend, but he's not. Or wasn't… I mean he was but- Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Uh… sure?"

"Now that he died, you found the ring. As if to say you've been here the whole time."

"I have…" Ron said slowly.

"I know," she smiled and placed the ring in Ron's palm, closing his fingers around it. "This is yours."

"What?"

"You found it. So you deserve to keep it. It'll remind me that you're here."

He laughed at her. "This northern air must have done something to your brain." He stood up, trousers dripping, and held out his hand for her. "Let's get out of here."

She took his hand and stood up. "Don't you want it?"

He smirked and looped the ring through his necklace. "What do you think?"

She smiled. "I know what I want to take home."

"What's that?"

She broke into a run up the sandy steps that led to the cabin, Ron running behind her. Hermione pushed through the sliding door and moved to the end of the stairs. On the wall was the poem. She lifted the small frame into her hands, "I'm keeping this."

Ron looked at the poem and smiled. "It's just the thing, now let's go home."

Hermione nodded and locked the sliding door. She followed Ron to the fireplace and looked back at the cabin. She was leaving her favorite childhood memories behind her. She took in everything from the ugly brown tiles to the wooden steps. The white curtains and the old couches were collecting dust, her grandmother's rock collection was waiting on the table for more additions. And Hermione was leaving.

She sniffed, pulled an old sweatshirt off the wall and put it around her shoulders. Once more she looked at the empty spot on the wall where the poem had been then looked at the small frame in her hand.

"You coming?" Ron asked as he held the pot of Floo powder to her.

"Yes," she said uttering a quick goodbye before throwing the powder into the fireplace, "The Burrow!"

Ron sighed and stepped into the fireplace. "Don't worry old chap," he said to an unseen ghost. "I'll take good care of her." Without another word he let go of the Floo powder in his hand, "The Burrow!"

With a flash of green fire the cabin was empty except for the gentle tick-tock of the clock to fill the silence.