CHAPTER TWENTY: Not Quite Over You
It was fairly late when the Chudley Cannons match ended and Harry, Ron and Hermione caught the portkey back that landed them in relatively close proximity to The Burrow.
The night air was cold and trudging through the snow for almost twenty minutes was enough to make the three of them well aware of the freezing atmosphere surrounding them. But despite the cold, they were in high spirits.
Ron had originally devised a plan to trick Hermione into coming with them, but she had completely surprised him by agreeing to come along when he asked her on his first try. She said wasn't really interested if it wasn't him or Harry playing, but it was better then sitting alone in the Weasley home on Christmas Eve. Ron had mentally slapped himself for momentarily forgetting that she would not get to see her parents at all during the holidays.
Before going back to Hogwarts in September Hermione had tried to make her parents understand that it would be safer for all of them if she not have any contact with them during the school year. Her parents had considered pulling her out of Hogwarts completely when they had learned of the dangers she might be facing, and it was only through the assurances of Remus Lupin and Mrs. Weasley, along with a very persuasive letter from Dumbledore, that finally convinced her parents to allow her to continue her schooling.
So this year there had been no need for Ron to write his mother and ask if Hermione could stay with them. His mother had written him wanting to be sure that he was bringing Hermione to The Burrow, and then writing him a second time, outlining extensively the living arrangements Ron was to abide by during her stay there.
Though he knew it was not nearly the same as being around her own family, he planned on giving her a Christmas she would never forget. That would happen as soon as his excitement died down from the Cannons match they had just come from.
"Tell me that was not the best bloody match ever!" He exclaimed, thumping his fist in the air for emphasis. "Now that's the Cannons team I've been rooting for all these years."
"If the other Seeker hadn't been thrown off his broom by that bludger – "
When Harry caught sight of the dark look Ron was sending his way, as if daring him to ruin this moment of glory for him, he let the unfinished sentence hang in the air and shrugged.
"Is that the second match they've won all season?"
Ron turned his dark look on Hermione. "They've won more than two matches, Hermione!"
She arched an eyebrow up at him. "So exactly how many have they won then?"
"That's not the point," he answered, dismissively, wanting to avoid at all costs saying that the Cannons were having another dismal year. "The point is that people like you and Harry need to have a bit more faith in the Cannons. They actually have a chance at – "
"Finishing in the cellar like every other year," Harry interjected, smirking, and Hermione laughed.
Ron punched him hard in the shoulder and gave Hermione a wounded look. "I can't believe I hang around you nonbelievers."
Hermione stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "At least Harry and I are realistic."
Ron considered saying something, then thought better of it and closed his mouth. There was no way he could win this argument with Harry and Hermione siding against him like they always did when it came to his favourite Quidditch team. He concentrated instead on walking up the path that led to the front door of his home, grateful to finally be inside somewhere warm.
Hermione thought about teasing him some more – he deserved it, considering how often he did it to her about school – but she controlled herself. She and Harry had done enough Cannons banishing for one day. Besides, she thought she should do her best to keep Ron in a good mood. Tonight she was going to casually bring up the subject of Switzerland, and try to get a feel for what his reaction might be. Nothing was written in stone, but Harry had been right when he had she had done a bit more then consider the possibility. She really did want to go, and of all her options abroad, she was most interested in the Swiss ministry by far. Many of the magical positions there were not even available at the ministry in England.
The trio walked in the door and found Mrs. Weasley bustling around inside the kitchen with Ginny. She took in the sight of their three rosy faces and immediately summoned three steaming mugs onto the table.
"You three must be freezing. Have a cup of hot chocolate. I don't want any of you catching a cold," she said to them.
"Thanks, mum," said Ron pulling out a chair from the table. Hermione took a seat beside him, but Harry remained standing in the doorway.
"I should get going," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his eyes darting towards the door. "Sirius is probably expecting me."
He was able to talk his way out of taking the floo system in the Weasley fireplace back to his godfather's house, saying it would only be a short walk to Sirius'. No one seemed keen on the idea to let him walk home on his own, and Harry didn't have the heart to tell them he didn't think there would be any danger lurking on this particular night. He had to promise to contact them the second he arrived at Sirius'.
He'd only gone a few paces from the house when he heard the screen door open behind him.
"Harry."
He felt obliged to stop at hearing Ginny's voice. Especially when he turned to see she had only thrown an old thin robe on over her clothes and looked to be freezing. He would have offered her his cloak but that meant he was committing himself to staying longer.
"I was just heading up to bed. You don't have to leave," she said, running her hands up and down her arms in an effort to keep warm.
"I should get going anyways. Sirius will start worrying."
"Harry – "
"Ginny, we don't have to this conversation. Really, I'm fine." As strange as it was, he meant it.
She watched his face for any signs that indicated otherwise, but if there was he was keeping them well hidden. "We're coming to Sirius' tomorrow for Christmas dinner."
"I know," Harry said, his breath coming out in puffs of gray smoke. The prospect of spending a day with her was not nearly as daunting as it had been a week ago.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Tomorrow," he echoed, giving a slight nod of his head. "Goodnight, Ginny."
He started walking again, feeling as if an odd weight had been lifted off his shoulders. That was the first cordial conversation he'd had with her in quite some time. It hadn't been much; then again, he hadn't put a whole lot of effort into it. But it was a start. He couldn't hate her forever. He had already tried that with little success. He was through sulking around like some pathetic school-kid though. Ginny was completely out of his system – or at least as much as she was ever going to be – and that thought comforted him on the walk home.
After five minutes ticked by and Ginny had still not returned, Hermione began contemplating whether or not she should check on her. Since their breakup, Harry and Ginny's interactions often involved heated rows or looks of fury being thrown back and forth. Harry had finally started cheering up when they'd left Hogwarts for the holidays, that she was afraid he might completely lose whatever progress he had made.
For the moment, however, she had her own dilemma to focus on and pushed thoughts of Harry's well being out of her mind. Ron's mum had left them alone and now seemed to be as good a time as any to broach the subject of another country to him. She did not want to deceive him but she needed to get some feel for where he stood.
"What do you think of Switzerland?" She tried to ask as nonchalantly as she could.
"Switzerland?" He took a sip from his mug and regarded her oddly. "Sounds like a bloody cold place to me, with all that snow they get."
She chose her words carefully not wanting to give too much away. "I think if you lived there you would get used to it."
"It's pretty far," he noted offhandedly, before giving her another strange look. "Why are you asking me about it anyways?"
"Before I left for school my parents were thinking about taking me there when all this is over," she lied quickly.
A horrible feeling of guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. She had never lied to him before, and it made her feel awful, especially by involving her parents who he already knew she missed terribly. She decided not to pursue the matter further, not wanting to arouse any further suspicion from Ron. Then again, if she didn't get accepted she wouldn't have to tell him anything at all. Although she knew the chances of her being rejected were fairly slim.
They heard the front door open and Ginny walked in, looking absolutely frozen.
"I'm going up to bed," she told them.
"So, you saw Harry off?" Ron asked carefully.
She said nothing, but simply nodded her head, before climbing the stairs.
"Well, that's an improvement," said Ron, turning his attention back to Hermione. "I can't remember the last time a conversation between her and Harry didn't end in a shouting match or tears."
Hermione had to agree. Maybe the rift between Harry and Ginny had finally started to mend, but she figured it would be a long time – if ever – before things went back to the way they were. As hard as Harry had tried to cover it up, he had been extremely hurt by Ginny. Hermione started wondering if Ron would react the same way if she told him she wanted to leave. She made up her mind then that once they were back at school she would tell him. It wasn't fair to ask Harry to keep her secret any longer, but she didn't want to be the reason for ruining his Christmas, especially when this might be one of the few peaceful times they had left together. She was determined to make the most of the time they had left before returning to Hogwarts.
On Christmas morning, Harry pulled himself out of bed at eight thirty, and stumbled bleary-eyed down the stairs. Sirius was already waiting for him in the kitchen.
"Happy Christmas, Harry," Sirius said cheerfully from where he sat at the table reading the paper. "I hope you're hungry because I made a little bit of everything."
He wasn't lying. Waffles, eggs, sausages and bacon, were stacked a mile high on plates sitting on the counter. Harry grabbed an empty plate and started filling it up. "Invited the whole town for breakfast, have you?"
"With one grown man and another growing man in the house, too much food is not in our vocabulary."
Harry joined him at the table, eating hungrily.
"Most teenagers do presents first and breakfast second."
Harry shrugged. "I'm not like most teenagers," he said between mouthfuls of sausages.
"Well, there's no rush, but one of your gifts is sitting outside in the garage waiting to be opened," Sirius winked at him.
"It's that big?"
Sirius grinned mischievously at Harry. "Let's just say it doesn't exactly belong in the house."
After listening to Sirius' vague description, Harry found it difficult to sit still long enough to finish his breakfast. He began to run through the possibilities of what it might be, but kept coming back to a new racing broom. He recalled telling Sirius many times that he would never give up his Firebolt, but maybe his godfather had finally stopped listening.
After shoveling down the remainder of his breakfast, Harry threw his winter robe over top of t-shirt and jeans and followed Sirius out to the garage.
"Close your eyes," Sirius told him still grinning.
More curious then ever, Harry decided it was best to play along and closed his eyes. He felt Sirius grab his arm a second later and lead him forward.
"All right, open them."
Harry obliged, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dimly lit garage. He didn't see any boxes wrapped up, and he was about to ask Sirius where it was when his eyes fell on a relatively large object with a bow on its handles.
Sirius reached around and gripped his shoulder tightly. "Happy Christmas, Harry."
Sirius' old motorbike was resting on its kickstand, looking as if it had just been bought yesterday instead of over twenty years ago.
"That – that's mine," Harry breathed in disbelief.
"I think my youthful days of using it to pick up girls are over. It seems only fair that I pass it along to you."
Harry shook his head to clear it. "Sirius, I can't – that's your motorcycle."
"No, it's yours now. That means you're stuck with it – whether you like it or not."
Harry walked over and examined it closely. It looked as though Sirius had spent a great deal of time fixing it up. A new coat of black paint gleamed back at him.
"Your father tried so many times to buy it off of me, but I would never part with it. I think he was just looking for an excuse to show off in front of Lily. Of course what kind of friend would I be if I hadn't let him borrow it on certain occasions?"
"Wow, Sirius. I – thanks," Harry stammered, completely dumfounded. He was at a loss to find the right words that would show Sirius just how much this gift meant to him. "I think this is the first gift to top the Firebolt I got in third year."
That was all the appreciation Sirius needed.
Harry spent the next two hours in the chilly garage, listening to Sirius relay many of the 'encounters' he had had with his motorbike in his youth. Listening to him describe those joyful times made him feel closer to his parents, and that was better then any gift his godfather could have given him.
"Ronald Weasley, what's taking you so long? We're going to be late," Molly Weasley shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Shaking her head, she turned to Hermione. "Is he like this at school?"
"Actually, he's worse, mum," Ginny answered for her.
Growing more impatient with each passing second, Mrs. Weasley said, "Ginny, would you go get your brother. Tell him if he's not down here in the next thirty seconds he's going to wish he didn't have another week of holidays left."
Ginny wasn't in the rush that her mother was to get to Sirius Black's, but decided it was best to comply with her wishes. Before she had taken a step though, Ron came bounding down the stairs, looking flustered.
"Are you finally ready to go?" His father asked.
"I can't find Harry's gift."
Ginny rolled her eyes. Of course her brother would wait until the last possible second to look for it.
Mrs. Weasley frowned. "We'll you're just going to have to apologize to Harry and tell him you'll look for it later. We're already late."
"Can't I meet you all there? If I don't find it in the next ten minutes I'll come join you."
"All right, we'll see you there then," Arthur Weasley said, and swiftly steered his wife towards the fireplace before she could object.
"Can you help me look?" Ron asked Hermione.
"Fine, but don't try and blame losing Harry's gift on me like you did last year."
"But you did – "
Ginny took her turn using the fireplace after her mother and father departed, silently wondering if it was such a good idea to leave Ron and Hermione alone. They were well overdue for a row, and she could still hear them arguing over who lost who's gift last Christmas as green flames enveloped her and sent her flying through the floo system until she reached the grate that belonged to Sirius' home. She felt her father's hand reach out and took it gratefully, stepping out of the fireplace. Professor Lupin was already there, and Sirius was taking her parents cloaks. He greeted her enthusiastically, which was a lot more than she had been expecting.
She didn't see Harry anywhere around, but it was her mother who voiced the question that was on her mind.
"Where's Harry?"
At this, Sirius beamed. "In the garage, trying out his new gift."
"I'm almost afraid to ask what it is," Mrs. Weasley said, all to aware of the look in Sirius' eyes.
"Don't worry, Molly, it's nothing dangerous. I'm just passing on a piece of tradition to him."
"Sirius gave Harry his motorcycle," Lupin said, joining them. "If Sirius was barely responsible enough to have one, I'm sure Harry is," he added with a smile, seeing Molly Weasley's brow furrow in concern.
While her mother and Sirius debated the dangers of motorcycles, Ginny took the opportunity to quietly slip out the front door.
Her motto for the holidays was to avoid Harry at all costs, and since he wasn't interested in seeing her, it made it all the more easy. But last night she felt like something had changed. When Harry had left the Weasley home because he did not want to be in around her, she had felt compelled to go after him and convince him to stay. When he had looked at her, his eyes empty of their customary animosity that he generally reserved for her, they were filled with something else she had almost been too afraid to hope for – acceptance. Acceptance that they were both guilty of mistakes and that this was for the best. If he was finally ready to move on, that meant she could as well.
She tried not to dwell too much on the fact that if Harry really was out of her system, she wouldn't be following him outside.
As much as Hermione loved him she had never met a more disorganized person then Ron Weasley. He had her searching behind every piece of furniture the Weasley's owned in what she felt was an utterly hopeless search to find Harry's present. She didn't know why he couldn't have placed it in his closet like a normal person. They'd already surpassed their ten-minute time limit, and she was waiting for Mrs. Weasley to appear in the fireplace and tell them both to give up the futile search and get over to Sirius'.
"I found it!" Ron shouted from the top of the stairs.
"Finally. Can we go now?"
"I still have to wrap it. Want to come up here and give me a hand?"
Shaking her head with frustration she climbed the stairs. She should have known he wouldn't even have it wrapped. She reached the his room, with a very specific scolding in mind. "Ron, if it was under your bed this whole – "
Whatever telling off she was going to give him she forgot it the instant she entered his room. It was Ron's room all right, but it was almost as if it didn't belong to him anymore. For starters, it was spotless; no clothes piled in heaps on the floor, and none of his school things scattered around in a disorganized mess. But those rarities weren't what caught Hermione's attention. In fact, she didn't even notice the state his room was in because she was too busy gaping at the floating candles all around the room.
It was awhile before she trusted her voice enough to speak. "Ron, what's going on?"
"I was going to wait and do this at Hogwarts," he began with an embarrassed shrug, "since we've spent so much time there – and it is where we first got together, but I figured The Burrow was as good a place as any."
She couldn't let her mind conceive the possibility of what he was saying. But his shaking hands told her all the answers she needed. "Ron, I – "
"Hermione, this would be a lot easier on me if you didn't talk. I'm nervous enough as it as."
She knew what was coming, but knowing didn't make it any less shocking when Ron got down on one knee and took her hand in his, his eyes searching out hers.
"You have no idea how hard this is for me. I mean you're the one who's good at making speeches and lectures – many of which I have been on the receiving end of." He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I've never met anyone who can manage to both infuriate me and make me wild with desire at the same time. I used to hate the way you would nag me to do better at my studies and everything else in my life. I know now that it wasn't nagging, it was you challenging me because you saw a person with all this potential who had no idea what to do with it. You're the only person who thought I was capable of doing anything I wanted and all I had to do was apply myself. I've never wanted anyone to be prouder of me than you. I love you, Hermione – I always have. And I hope you'll give me the chance to make you proud. Will you marry me?" He pulled out a small black velvet covered box from his pocket and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful white gold diamond ring Hermione had ever laid eyes on.
Tears were glistening in her eyes. She was so moved by everything he had just said, she couldn't speak – she couldn't even breathe. She couldn't even begin to speculate as to how Ron could have afforded such a ring. She had always praised herself on being able to keep a cool head in any situation, but she found herself rapidly losing that composure. It was funny how when she needed her rational line of thinking the most, it was nowhere to be found. If it had been, it would have told her there was no possible way she could accept Ron's proposal. Not only were they way to young, but there were so many other things she wanted to do before settling down – like starting a career abroad for starters.
"I know we're not even eighteen yet," he plunged on, "but it's not like we have to get married tomorrow. We can wait – two years, three – it doesn't matter. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I can give you as much time as you need."
"Ron, I – " She wanted to make some heartfelt speech like he had just done, but just like so many times in the past Ron had left her speechless. She couldn't find the words to convey every single emotion she was feeling. But there was one word that would give him a pretty good idea. "Yes."
If he had told her to take some time to think about it, she didn't know if her answer would have been the same, once she had worked out everything logically in her brain.
His grip tightened around her hand. "Yes – yes? You said yes?"
She nodded, and felt tears of happiness falling freely down her cheeks now.
Ron was beside himself, sweeping her up in his arms and twirling her around before coming to a stop in the middle of his room – but he didn't let her go. He brushed aside the few loose strands of hair having fallen in her face. He had meant every word he had spoken. There was no one else he wanted to be with. No one else who made him feel the way she did. He felt her place a soft hand on his cheek,
"Ron, I am proud of you," she whispered fiercely.
There was nothing that could have made Ron happier at that moment. Even if by some miracle the Cannons won the world cup, it would be dismal in comparison to the gift Hermione had just given him. He showed her that by bringing his mouth down to hers and covering her lips with his own, pouring everything from his soul into that kiss.
Feet crunching in the snow, Ginny approached the garage, its door wide open. She had hoped the noise of her boots against the pavement would alert Harry to her presence, but he was completely absorbed in his gift from Sirius. It was up to her to announce her presence.
"It's nice," she said from behind him.
Harry turned, slightly startled by her appearance. "Thanks," he muttered quietly, and removed himself from where he was sitting on the bike.
"I never pictured you as the motorcycle riding type, though."
"Where's Ron and Hermione?" He asked briskly.
She tried not to let her disappointment show at the brush off he had just given her. Of course, she really shouldn't have been expecting any more then that. Harry was still deeply hurt and that wasn't about to disappear anytime soon. She was wrong to assume that his behaviour last night would have indicated otherwise.
"Ron's having some difficulties locating your gift. Hermione's helping him find it," she said simply.
Harry nodded and picked up a nearby rag, busying himself with wiping away imaginary grease stains on his hands.
Sensing the conversation was over, Ginny turned to head back in to the house. She didn't know why she had allowed herself to seek him out in the first place. The whole purpose of ending things with Harry was to create some distance between them – that was what Sirius had wanted from her – and here she was finding excuses to be near him. So much for her 'avoid Harry at all costs' motto.
She was near the front steps when she heard him following behind her. She made out as if she hadn't and kept walking. She almost wished he hadn't called out her name, forcing her to stop. Then again, if she really didn't want to face him she could have ignored him and kept walking.
Harry stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, and was looking like he was struggling for what to say. For some stupid reason he felt obligated not to let her walk into the house upset with him. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why – he didn't owe her anything. But now that he had stopped her, he had to say something.
He thought quickly. "Is Professor Lupin here yet?" Harry already knew that he was, but Ginny didn't.
"He was in the living room with Sirius when we arrived."
"I suppose I should head in too, say hello to your mum and dad as well."
Not sure what else to say to him, she gave a quick nod, and turned to begin walking again. She was wondering why Harry was making such an effort at being nice, when her foot crossed a slippery patch of ice, and her balance faltered. She felt herself falling when two strong hands grasped her waist and held her in place.
She was almost afraid to look up, out of embarrassment and because this was the closest she'd been to Harry in a long time. Those were not the only awkward factors at work. In her attempt to stop herself from falling she had grabbed whatever was closest to her, and now found herself still clutching the front of Harry's robes well after the fact.
"Thanks," she muttered, letting her gaze drop down to the snow so he wouldn't see her blushing. She hated how just by looking at him he could make her feel like she was an eleven year old again, with a silly schoolgirl's crush.
She released her hold on his chest, but he made no move to remove his hands from her waist, and she found herself not minding at all. It was with great effort that she forced herself to look up at him. Harry had always been able to say more with one look then any amount of words. The way he was staring at her then made her forget she was supposed to be staying away from him. She wasn't supposed to be thinking things like what it would feel like to kiss him again.
"It's freezing out here– oh! "
Harry pulled his hands from her waist and let them rest at his sides before the first syllable was out of Hermione's mouth.
She stood there on the front porch, her mouth hanging paritially open at the scene she had just stumbled upon.
"Oh, um, Sirius thought we should come get you. I'll tell him you'll be along shortly," she finished quickly and turned to go back in.
"That's all right, we're coming in now anyways," said Harry stepping away from Ginny. He avoided looking directly at Hermione, not wanting to see the inquiring look he knew would be present in her eyes.
"You might not want to stand there with the door open. You're letting all the cold air in," Ron's voice sounded from behind Hermione. He stepped out onto the front porch beside her, looking from Harry to Ginny, but doing a much better job then Hermione had just done at covering his surprise. By now, though, Harry had put a considerable amount of distance between Ginny and he.
Ron broke the silence by thrusting a rectangular box at him, with a rather poor wrapping job – even for Ron. "Happy Christmas, mate."
Harry took it saying, "what took you two so long?"
If he hadn't been preoccupied with trying to deflect the attention off Ginny and himself, he would have noticed their expressions falter momentarily, like they were hiding something.
"Ron hid your gift so well hidden it took us quite awhile to find it," Hermione explained matter-of-factly.
It was one of the many times Ron was grateful for her quick thinking abilities. They had decided it was best to keep their engagement a secret for the time being. They didn't need everyone they knew telling them they were too young to get married. Ron wasn't disputing that fact, and that's why they were going to wait, but he had the distinct feeling that wouldn't matter to his mother if he told her. Hermione also wanted to wait until she was able to see her parents again before telling anyone of their plans.
Harry was so distracted with his own thoughts – about what had just happened before Hermione had interrupted – that as he followed Ron and Hermione back in the house, he again failed to notice the glowing looks they threw each other when they thought he wasn't looking.