Still the One

by iluvjames7

Hermione left a bewildered Ron for America years before...what will happen when their paths cross again?

Still the One

It was a warm, sunny day. Hermione was sitting in a crude wooden window seat she tried building herself. Though seemingly sunny and warm outside, the area surrounding their apartment building was in the bad section of town, with dirty cracked sidewalks, and a tree about every seven blocks. And if the physical unattractiveness wasn't enough to drive the inhabitants of Laramie Lane inside, the muggers and robbers waiting in the alleyways were.
Hermione was filling in yet another application for a job. It was incredibly difficult for her since she moved to America. Her first occupation paid rather well, but she had been forced to fake her school of education and place of birth on the form. The authorities found out about it, and this black mark on her record made it exceedingly hard for anyone to trust her. She had been through ten jobs in the past three months, and after being fired yesterday, she was currently filling in her resime to be hired at McDonalds. She didn't have a car, and she hated to waste money on public transportation, so she would be walking nearly four miles each way to work each day, not to mention for the night shift. She was worried about being out on the street at night, even more so about leaving Molly, her daughter home alone at that time, but she really needed the salary.

Ron sighed. Fred and Angelina were fighting yet again. Ron had been invited over to their house because Angelina's cousin, Opal, was visiting them. Fred was always trying to set Ron up with other women, but Ron automatically knew Opal wasn't going to work out. No one was going to work out. Hermione was the only one he could ever love, the only one he could ever think about. Why, oh why had he wasted those first five years at school not loving her? He wondered often. Of course, then he hadn't known he would lose her only a year after graduation. He still remembered their wedding...

fLaShBaCk

Ron and Hermione met in an everlasting kiss...they both knew then, that without telling each other, their hearts would forever belong to the other. The rest of the night, while everyone was congratulating them, they could hear no voices except the echoes of each others "I do" ringing in their ears.

PrEsEnT

Angelina sighed at her brother in law. Opal was at least trying to be friendly--Ron just murmured random words of agreement whenever she spoke.
Opal: So how are you? What do you think about those Wasps switching players mid-match?
Ron: Oh yeah.
Not that Angelina blamed him. She personally felt she was going to have to have a talk with Fred. She had only just remembered herself, but obviously Ron was perfectly aware. She would have to explain to Opal too that Ron wasn't usually THIS unfriendly with women, that this was a special circumstance.

Later...

"Opal, listen, there's something you have to know about Ron. I'm sure he didn't hate you. He's just been a little distracted today...you see, it's his wife's birthday."
"You guys tried to set me up with a married man?"
"No, no, listen. Ron's wife, Hermione left him, about five years ago now. They had a big fight, the two of them overreacted, so she left. Ron tried to find her later, but couldn't, she left abruptly and told no one where she went. They're still in love. Well, at least Ron's still crazy for her. Well, today's her birthday. There are a few times each year when he gets in this kind of funk, you know, her birthday, wedding anniversary, first-date anniversary, her leaving anniversary..."
"So they're still married though?"
"Oh yeah. She left, but it all happened so fast I guess, that they never had the chance to make an official divorce. I guess that means Hermione never got married again either, she would have had to contact Ron to sign the papers..."

"Happy Birthday mom! You're, you're, you're...how old are you now mommy?"
"Twenty-four honey."
"Whoa. How old is daddy?"
"Daddy? What do you know about daddy? You don't have one, honey."
"But mommy, Miss Kerrson said that everyone has a mommy and a daddy."
"Well, honey, you're not like everyone else."
"Mommy, you already told me that. I know I'm a witch, and that I'm so so so special and that I'm the best little girl in the whole wide world."
"That's right pumpkin. Now it's time for bed. You've done all your homework, right?"
"Mommy, we never get homework, you know that."
"I'm sorry, you're right, I guess I did know that. Now hurry off and brush your teeth, you need a good nights rest. We have to get up early again and walk to school again tomorrow."
"But mommy, it's such a long walk!"
"I know, sweetie, but it won't be for too much longer, I promise."
"Okay, that's fine then I guess. But will you tell me a bedtime story?"
Hermione glanced at her watch. "Okay fine, but just a short one. What kind of story do you want to hear?"
"Tell me one about my daddy."
"Sweetie...didn't I tell you already?"
"Mommy, your left ear always twitches when you lie."
Hermione winced. This child is way too smart for her own good.
Molly put on her pouty face. "Please, mommy, please? I promise I'll never ever complain about walking again."
Hermione sighed. Why not? Because he's stupid and you promised yourself you'd never think about him again. But her other self argued that Molly had the right to know. But what do I say happened to him? If I tell her he's not dead, she'll never give up until she finds him. She's stubborn. Like Ron.
"Okay honey, what do you want to know about daddy?"
"What's his name?"
God, she hadn't said it aloud in a long time. "His name? His name was...his name was...R-Ron. Ronald."
"Like Ronald McDonald!"
"Um, well, yes, without the McDonald. You know, he had red hair like him too."
This conversation was getting more and more awkward for Hermione. She was going to add "like you too" with the red hair, but she didn't want her child to feel that connection with him. It was odd also to use the past tense, she knew, but if she said "is," it seemed like, it seemed like he was still there, in reach. But he isn't, she said firmly to herself. He's not in your life anymore, and never will be. He's stupid, heck, he doesn't even know he has a kid.
"Mommy, why are you crying?"
Hermione looked up into the face of her daughter. Molly. She was beautiful, looked mostly like her, people told her, except for her hair. Hermione took her hand and stroked her child's wondering cheek. Hermione hadn't even noticed she was crying. She mentally slapped herself for letting herself fall apart in front of Molly. For letting herself fall apart over him.
"I'm sorry, honey, but don't worry, it's not anything you did. I love you very much, just remember that. And thank you, honey, I loved your picture, it was very, very beautiful."
"So I guess you're not going to finish the story?"
"Umm...not tonight, sugar, I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow morning though. Okay?"
"Okay. Good night mommy."
"Good night baby."
"Good night baby."
"Night Ronnie," she said, and chuckling in reply, Ron kissed her and held her in his arms.
Hermione shook her head. She had no idea why those words brought this mental flashback of Ron to her mind. She concluded she was overworking herself again. Like those illusions I had studying for the N.E.W.T.S., her mind couldn't help thinking. Hermione stopped to take in a deep breath to steady her mind, and then, exhausted, collapsed onto the couch.

Few days later...
"Ron! This is wonderful! Why didn't you tell us your team was going to the tournament in America?"
Ron turned to face his sister and shrugged. He remembered finding out. He was excited of course, but he was too distracted that day to remember to tell his family.
"Yeah, Ron! When do you leave?" asked Harry, joining his wife in facing his best friend.
"Oh, yeah, we leave next Saturday, and the tournament's on Tuesday. Should be back by Wednesday night."
"Well, that's great Ron, you and the team must be ecstatic! This is a huge tournament, and haven't you always dreamed of playing in America? They've got huge turnouts at the matches I hear, the stadium's rumored to be at least seven times the size of our world cup stadium."
"Yeah, I heard that too, I think."
"Cincinnati, eh? Never been there. Cool sounding name to add to the list of places I've been to..."
"Huh? You mean you're coming?"
"Course, Ron! We couldn't miss this!"
"Yeah, it's cool I guess, since with me you can get those free tickets..."
"Yeah, well, it's not just the free tickets Ron, don't you get it? We love watching you. You know how cool it is watching your brother—"
"—And best friend—"
"Playing in world cups and things like that? You don't give yourself enough credit Ron, you're an amazing keeper. We're really proud when we watch you, to know you."
Ron blushed slightly. He was feeling a bit queasy. "I-I reckon I should be heading on home now, thanks though for lunch. I'll be sure to c- come"—Ron felt like he was choking now—"come again soon, a time when m-my favorite nephew is here."
"Okay, well you'll probably see him in Cincinnati! We're bringing him to the match too you know!! Bye Ron!"
Ron smiled weakly and quickly apparated back to his penthouse.
It was a nice apartment, Ron had the whole floor to himself. He wasn't into homemaking, so it wasn't lavishly decorated, or anything. He had a nice kitchen, a few extra spacious bedrooms, a few rooms for daily living. The shiny pine floors were polished twice a month by a special service he had hired, but that was basically the extent of his spending money on his home. Not that he didn't have plenty of money to spend, being keeper for a major world league team.
Ron plopped himself onto his couch. He now knew why he was feeling so sick. He supposed he knew why all along, but was fighting the losing battle, as always, to keep Hermione out of his thoughts. It was just that, it shouldn't be Harry and Ginny always there at his games, with their son. It was nice that they came, and it made him happy to see how much they supported him, but...but...
It should be my family, there to see me. It should be Hermione and my kids.
Ron knew deep inside of him that Hermione was really the reason he still played Quidditch. He remembered the old Slytherin song, "Weasley is our King" and how on their wedding night, Hermione sang softly into his ear, "Weasley is my king."
And then, also, maybe it was because deep in there, he believed, that if he got his name out there enough, becoming famous as he had, and traveling everywhere for games, that Hermione would come back to him, that he would find her in one of those places.

Hermione yawned. She had no alarm clock, but she had trained herself to be able to get up with the sun. She stumbled around their shabby, small apartment, and went across the room to wake Molly. This, Hermione sometimes thought, was sometimes harder than finding work. She gently tossed Molly around, then had to resort to talking loudly to the air. She finally awoke with the blowing of her mother's breath on her cheek. Hermione told her to get dressed, and they headed out the door.
On the way to school, they stopped in a musty bakery, and Hermione bought her daughter a croissant. Molly was content to munch on her breakfast for the rest of the walk, while Hermione's stomach rumbled. She wasn't trying to diet, Hermione knew she was thin, but figured she could wait until that evening to sneak a few fries at McDonald's, with perhaps a few crackers at midday to tide her over.
Hermione and her daughter exchanged a quick kiss and hug as she dropped her off at kindergarten (Molly was almost five), and turned around for the trip home. It took the two of them about an hour and a half to get there, and the same for Hermione to get home, but the return trip always seemed much longer.
Once she got home, she set herself up to ponder her problem of leaving Molly home alone. She didn't know whether it would be safe enough to leave Molly alone. Yes, she could lock the doors and windows, but she had witnessed, in this very neighborhood, other ways people could break in. Molly was stubborn and steadfast and smart, but there was no way she could hold her own against a robber, not to mention an armed one. What if there wasn't anytime to call the police? Did Molly know how to call 911? If she managed to get out of the apartment if there was an emergency, what would she do then? She couldn't walk to the McDonalds. What phone could she use to call Hermione out on the street?
Hermione concluded that there was no possible way she could let Molly stay home alone. She would come with her to work. Maybe there would be some sort of cot they could set up in the back where she could sleep? Hermione was satisfied with this solution, and went back to sleep, to adjust herself to her new nocturnal schedule.
She slept mostly without worry, and awoke right on schedule for her to go pick up Molly. Hermione briskly walked to the elementary school and waited outside for the bell to ring. She was thankful for this school, being fairly clean as it was, and one of the best inner city schools in the state. More than anything, Hermione wished for her daughter to end up happier than her, and most of Hermione's goals were to make sure Molly had enough opportunity to succeed to get a college scholarship.
She saw her daughter happily skip out of the front doors of the school, glance around looking for Hermione, and then, once locating her, skipped over to join her. Hermione asked the daily questions expected from mothers, how was your day, what's new, and received the expected answers, fine, and nothing.

There was a large family get together at the Burrow on Thursday evening, to wish Ron the best luck in his match. He had, of course played in international matches before, but somehow this was different. Bill couldn't make it, but Fleur and the kids were there, as were Fred and George's families, and of course Ginny and family. Percy still wasn't supportive of Ron's career choice (nor was he supportive of Bill's, Charlie's, Fred's, George's, or Ginny's—none of them worked with the ministry) so he, Penelope, and Prudence were absent. Ron was glad to have a chance to play with all his nieces and nephews, who thought he was the coolest (after Fred and George of course) since he played Quidditch.
Arthur and Molly proposed a double toast at dinner that night. In honor of Ron of course, and then, as a surprise to everyone, that George and Katie were expecting a baby girl. The rest of the night, when people weren't psyching up Ron for the match, they were deciding on names for the baby.
"You should name her after someone in the family," said Ginny. "Hey mum, you still got that old book of our family tree?"
"Wait, no, I don't want to name her after some old hag that's a great aunt once removed or something, forget about the book, mum, we should name her after someone we actually know," George replied.
"Okay, well, Katie, anyone from your family?"
"Well, no, not really...everyone in my family's got really weird names... nothing I like...I was the first descendent who actually had a first name someone could spell..."
"Okay well then. Hey, Ron, you got any suggestions? Oi, Ron, you feeling okay?"
"What? Oh yeah...I'm fine...I'm just going to go into the kitchen and get some juice or something," staggered Ron, as he clumsily got up and left the room. He sat down on the kitchen and wondered why have I been thinking about her so much lately? He was happy for George and Katie, but he couldn't help feeling jealous. He had been remembering the night he himself had talked about what they might name their child someday.
"Hey Mione?"
"Hmmm?" murmured Hermione, half-asleep.
"Mione, wake up."
Hermione turned to face him. "I'm awake," she said.
"What do you want to name our kids?"
"Ron, we don't have kids."
"I know, but we're going to. What do you want to name them?"
"Oh, I dunno, Ron. Why?"
"Can we name them after you?"
"Well, first off Ron, you can't name more than one after the same person. Second, why do you want to name them after me? Hermione's such an ugly name."
"No, it's not. Besides, it's not the name, it's the kind of person the name belongs to. And you, you are my favorite person in the whole world, so please...can we name our daughter that?"
"If we have a daughter...well, I don't know, I always thought maybe we could name her after your mum, you know, Molly."
"Ehhh...but I like Hermione." He put on his puppy dog face. Hermione laughed.
"Well maybe we'll have two daughters...but why don't we talk about this a little closer to when we're going to have one...like maybe when I'm pregnant?"
"Okay, love."
"Goodnight honey."
"Goodnight."

Mrs. Weasley (the grandmother) found Ron with his head on the kitchen table, eyes looking tear-filled. Ron didn't notice her come in, and jumped slightly when he felt her hand on his back.
"Ron, dear, I—we—know you miss her. But we're sure she'd be so proud of you."

Suddenly Ron burst. "SHE'S NOT DEAD, YOU KNOW, WHY ARE YOU SAYING IT AS THOUGH SHE'S DEAD? SHE LEFT ME, OKAY, MUM? SHE LEFT ME, AND...AND...and she's never coming back." He said this last part in a whisper, and then the tears began to flow freely down his face. Mrs. Weasley had an odd combination of a look of pity and worry on her face as she watched Ron march through the door and disappear in the fireplace.

When Hermione and Molly got home, Hermione began making preparations for her first night at work. She had a uniform, so it wasn't as if she was going to try and dress up or anything, but she pinned her hair up nicely, and wore her best earrings, which, of course were the earrings she had been wearing the day she left. Molly listened as her mother explained how she was going to have to come to work that night with her. Molly, like Hermione, wasn't thrilled with the idea, but she was prepared to go along with it.
Once they got there, a few hours later, Hermione set Molly up in a booth within her range of sight with some Happy Meal toys to play with. Molly played with these and ate dinner and spent some time "people watching" before she lay on the cot to go to sleep.
Hermione, in the meantime, tried to ignore the asphyxiating wafts of grease floating behind the counter, while she took order after order. She had an hour break at midnight, when she wandered outside to get some fresh air. She was just wandering up and down the street when suddenly someone snatched her from behind and dragged her into an alleyway, muffling her screams with his dirty hand.
He put both his hands around her neck, threatening silently to choke her to death. She managed to gape out "Please...I...don't...have any...don't...have...money..."
"Well how 'bout that pretty little ring on your finger? That'll do just fine..." he said in a chilling, raspy voice.
Hermione, then, in a burst of strength she didn't think she had, kicked him hard with her knee, and fled back into the open street, and ran, heart rate soaring back into the McDonalds. She chose not to tell the manager, ignoring his questioning looks at her state of fear.
Once she calmed down, she took the last few minutes of her break to reflect on what had happened. What if she hadn't been able to break free like that? Would she have given him the ring? It was her wedding ring, the one Ron gave her, that he was talking about. It really was a pretty valuable one, pure gold and nice to look at, with its engraved swirls around the edges. Hermione knew she could have, maybe should have, sold it long ago, it wasn't as if she was with Ron anymore. The stupid git. But the fact was, whether consciously, or subconsciously, Hermione didn't know which, she had never given it up.
The hours passed by slowly after that, but finally, at five in the morning, her shift was over. Unfortunately, she was paid by the week, but at least to know that there was something coming was a relief. It was Friday morning now, so Hermione had to get Molly up for school, and surely enough, the task proved difficult. The good news was the McDonalds was closer to the school than their apartment building was, so they could take more time in the mornings now.
Hermione managed to fork over a few dollars so that Molly could have some orange juice and hash browns, and got her dressed in the clothes they brought in an overnight bag. Molly had time then to take a short 30 min. nap, and they set off.

Ron packed silently on Friday, half throwing stuff into his suitcase. The night before, he had just crawled into bed, half-ashamed with his behavior, half just feeling sorry for himself. Friday morning he had awaken not remembering how he felt last night, but it all came back to him as he was brushing his teeth and caught a glance of his ring finger wrapped around the toothbrush.
He was angry now, angry at Hermione. Why did she leave, anyway? Not that he hadn't asked himself this question before, many times. He thought back to that terrible day once more, the day when the fuel for his flame left.
She had just apparated home, into the kitchen, where Ron was sitting, waiting to tell Hermione his good news—that he had made the Quidditch team.

She saw him, and then her face grew red, very red, redder than even his got.
"Hermione, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, concerned.
"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG?" she practically yelled.
"Hermione, I, honey, what's..." he tried to finish the sentence, but she interrupted him.
"Ron Weasley, I am sorry I ever married you! I hate you and I'm leaving and I NEVER want to see you again. You broke my heart Ron, and I can never ever forgive you. That's right, Ron. I know all about it, so don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
With that, she waved her wand and disappeared. And no one ever heard from her after that.
The thing was, the thing that was so hard for Ron to live with, was that he didn't know what she was referring to. I know all about it, she had said. What was "it"? Ron wished he played beater, so he could get some good solid whacking in that afternoon at practice.
He did manage to send a note to the Burrow, apologizing for his behavior. He made no mention of his thinking about Hermione in it though, only said that he was sorry for the way he stormed out. He then did a very brave thing. A very brave thing indeed.
Since the day she left, Ron had kept all her stuff packed up in nice, clean boxes, which looked as though they were only waiting for their owner to come back for them. He had only one picture of her in the house, which was a small framed one of her, him, and Harry in their first year, but had many more recent photos in some of the boxes. He opened a square brown box in which he had her jewelry and some photo albums. He picked up an album on the top, looking for one particular picture he remembered them taking. Next to last in the book, he found it.
This photograph was taken of them about three months after they were married. They were in the backyard of the Burrow, Ron holding Hermione in his arms beneath an apple tree. Since it was a moving picture, Ron watched it for a long time, watching himself twirling around, Hermione's head back, laughing while her hair waved freely in the wind, wearing a light blue sundress and bare feet. Ron was staring at her and smiling so wide, absolutely taken with her and happier than ever to be there with the person he loved most. Their photographic selves seemed to never tire of this twirling and gazing and laughing, occasionally kissing each other and then laughing harder...
Before he knew it, Ron was crying again.

Hermione evaluated the situation at home, while Molly was at school. She figured out, on a napkin, that with her new earnings, she could afford to include some wool in their budget, and teach herself how to knit, which would be cheaper than buying sweaters and socks for the winter. She had a deal with the landlord, that as long as she didn't bang on the ceilings and floors like some of the other residents, or smoke, like all the other residents, she could pay a cheaper rent. So at least Hermione wasn't worried about that part of it.
But somewhere, in between giving herself a headache with financial figures, and racking her head for anything she could recall from her knitting lessons with Mrs. Weasley, she began to cry. Because all of a sudden, the one big question she always forced herself to ignore, broke free, and entered her conscious thinking. What if everything with Ron had worked out? She wouldn't be a single mother skipping meals and working ten hour night shifts at a fast food restaurant, friendless, family-less, and loveless. Maybe she was being delusional from lack of nourishment, but she allowed herself to wonder what Ron was doing. Probably perfectly happy, he was, ecstatic that she had left on her own.
Hermione loved Molly with all that was left of her broken heart, but she needed someone else. Even just someone else to talk to, older than a four year old.
Once Hermione pulled herself together a little bit, she took her daytime nap so she'd be rejuvenated for the night. Again, she knew that Molly wasn't going to be excited about being woken up at five-thirty on a Saturday, but even with the new salary, they just couldn't afford a babysitter now. Not that she would trust anyone in the neighborhood, or be able to persuade anyone else to come out there at night.
A few hours later, she awoke to pick up her daughter, and later still, they proceeded to Hermione's work.

Saturday morning, Ron was to report to their practice complex for a quick team meeting, before they apparated individually to their hotel in Cincinnati. When he got there, still sleepy-eyed and dragging his trunk, the coach was ready to make his famous pre-travel-for-a-match speech.
"Alright, Cannons. This is it. The big one. Now, we're making a long journey, so don't none of you splinch yourselves over the Atlantic, you hear? Alright then. Basic, rules, I've probably told you these before. But once you get there, check into your rooms and there should be the practice schedule for the next few days on your bedside tables. Directions to our practice field should be there too. Now, you'll have time to go sightseeing this afternoon, and over the next few days, but I don't want you lot to tire yourselves out. And eat right! Don't want to catch you stuffing you mouths with some o' that greasy American food. Downright awful for your health. And this is a big one. This is it. K? Oh, and if your families are checking in with you, there's an itinerary they can grab from the concierge. Hey, Weasley, you okay?"
Ron had become quite shaky after the family comment. "Y-yeah, I'm alright coach," he said.
The coach then made marks on his tally sheet that everyone was present, the players went to the next continent over with a series of pop!s in the locker room.
The city street outside their hotel was crowded, with yellow taxis and people and hot dog and pretzel stands. This wasn't that big a city, though, he knew New York and Los Angeles were much bigger, as was London, of course. But there was a strange atmosphere here, Ron noticed. He felt like, like there was a big secret in this city, a hidden room he had to find the key to, or like there was a password he needed to get into one of those muggle copmuter things. Ron shrugged it off, though, and went to the front desk to retrieve his room key.

Hermione struggled with the key to her apartment. She was feeling faint, but she didn't want to ask the creepy landlord to help her again. Thankfully, the key only needed one more good twisting, and the door creaked open.
There was a leak by the one window, the rain outside had somehow made its way in through the old, weak, building bricks, and began to trickle along the side of the windowsill. Hermione made a mental note to buy some gum at the drugstore to caulk it.
She then pondered what she was going to do the rest of the day. She had the weekends off from McDonald's, but knew it would be best if she could find some sort of other part-time job, maybe for the weekends only. Working at one of those lemonade stands would be perfect, but those were in the nicer part of town, closer to where a tourist might come, and too far a walk. But maybe she should just try it. See how it worked out.
At about ten o' clock, she woke Molly up from her nap, and told her they were going to take a trip into the nice part of the city today, so mommy could try and get another job so Molly could have new sneakers for the winter. Explaining things in one sentence without Molly asking first was a good tactic, Hermione had noticed, for Molly was up and ready to go in five minutes.

Once Ron had settled in his room, he decided to go out on a walk around town. Ginny and Harry weren't arriving until Monday, and he didn't feel much like socializing with the other team members. So he sent his suite's house elf to go have some fun (Hermione would have liked that, he thought), and apparated out onto the street in front of the hotel.
He made his way across the street, where muggles saw only a shabby Laundromat where the hotel was, and decided to go left. He passed many shops, vendor's stands, and restaurants, and just kept wandering, wandering, wandering. For all he knew, he was going in circles. But he wasn't worried about getting lost, only of keeping certain trains of thought out of his head.

Hermione led Molly briskly past her school and the McDonalds, then about ten more blocks, until they were in the hot dog stand district. Hermione was very hungry now, she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and that wasn't much. She had a headache, and was growing dizzier with each step. Molly somehow could sense her mother was a little off, and gripped her hand tighter. By one o' clock, they had already been turned down by two stands, who said that even if they were hiring, the hot dog selling season was almost over, she'd best try the roasted chestnut stands now.
So Hermione and Molly walked on, and on, until...

Ron was passing a Victoria's Secret, when he spotted a woman, holding a little girl, walking steadily slower and slower, breathing heavy, and holding her stomach with her free hand. He caught up to ask her if she needed some help, when, once he was directly behind her and about to speak up, she fainted and fell backwards, right into his arms.

Hermione had been feeling worse and worse, her stomach was rebelling against her, and Molly was casting her worried glances. Suddenly, the world started spinning around her, when everything went dark, and she lost herself.

And when Ron looked at the person whose head had just landed on his shoulder, he nearly jumped away and let her fall. It couldn't be. No, it can't be. Yes it can. Bloody hell, it's Hermione! He thought. It was hard to turn his gaze from her, but he had to ask the little girl... She was crying now. The little red-haired child was sniffling, and looking up at him with big, chocolatey brown eyes. Ron narrowed his own eyes. This girl looked just like...Hermione...which could only mean...... How dare she! I wonder who the bloody father is...
But Ron did his best to contain himself, and asked her, in a very shaky voice, "Excuse me, um, but is this your mum?"
The little girl looked up at him, scared. "I-I'm not...not s'posed to talk to...to...strangers."
"Oh...okay...uh...well, I uh, need to know, because, I-I think she's fainted."
The little girl looked up at him again, obviously terrified of him and what happened. Then a police man happened to be walking by, and asked Ron if everything was alright. He saw Molly's terrified face and said, "Alright, you folks better come with me. Taxi!"
A yellow car with black checkers on the edges came up and stopped for them. The police man told the cab driver to follow him, and then left Ron, Hermione, and Molly to get in the car while he hopped on his motorcycle.
Mr. Police Man told Molly not to worry, the man couldn't hurt her in the car. Ron regretted being treated like a criminal, because he was the one who caught her after all, and, although it was weird to think of it that way, he WAS her husband.
The three (four if you count the driver) of them sat through the ride in silence, Ron just looking at Hermione, and occasionally at the little girl, who was very pale.
He noticed that Hermione looked very thin under her somewhat ragged clothing. She was wearing a very faded dress, and still looked beautiful to him, though she did look different. There were a few wrinkles that definitely weren't there before. And the girl, who, Ron was assuming, was her daughter, looked just like her, except for the red hair...blimey, that's ironic, thought Ron. She was wearing too-small jeans and a thin lavender jumper.
Once they arrived at the police station, the officer got off his motorcycle and opened the car door for them. He and Ron carried Hermione into the station, where another officer took her into a small medical ward they had there. Then, Ron and Molly were led into a side office, where the policeman, Lyle Walnut, sat down at a desk.
"Now, you, there, sit in that chair, there's a few questions I've got to ask you. And you, honey, you can sit in that chair over there, and don't worry, everything's gonna be okay."
They sat down accordingly.
"What's your name?"
"Molly Granger."
"And you?"
"Ron Weasley."
"Was that woman your mother, Molly?"
"Y-yes."
"And am I correct in assuming you are not related to them, and aren't friends with them?"
"Uh...well...um...the woman...you see, she's my—my w-wife."
Officer Walnut looked at him suspiciously.
"Molly, is this man your daddy?"
"N-no."
"If you are lying to me, young man, I can assure you that is just another crime to add to your list for court trial."
"C-court trial? Wait, now, c'mon, what did I do?'
"Ever heard of a little thing I call...hmmm...how should I put it...sexual harassment?"
"What?! I wasn't h-harassing her, I-I was just walking up behind her, and because I saw that she looked sort of sick, and she just, just fell into my arms."
Lyle Walnut raised his eyebrows.
"And when I arrived, it appeared you had been in that position for some time...surely you should have sought medical help for her right away?"
"Uh...yeah...you see, I hadn't seen her in a very long time, but please, I'm not lying, she really, really she is my wife."
"Then state her full name for me please."
"Hermione Lynn Granger."
"Is that right, Molly?"
"Y-yes."
"What's her birthday? How old is she?"
"Her birthday is September 19, and she's twenty-four years old."
"Is that right, Molly?"
"Yes."
"And is this your child, then, Mr. Weasley?"
"Um...well...I-I don't think so," answered Ron, very slowly, because he hadn't even thought of that before.
"You don't think so? What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Weasley?"
"My wife, her, I mean, Hermione, she uh, she left me about five years ago."
"So this is not the first time you've sexually abused her?"
"No, no, that's not why she left..."
"And why did she leave?"
"Uh...um...we got into a fight."
"Very vague, Ron, statements like that will hardly get you anywhere in court..."
"Please, no, I swear, I was trying to help her, really, you have to believe me..."
"H-He's my—my d-d-dadd-dy," said Molly in a shaky voice.
"He is? Molly, didn't I already ask you if he was? You said no before. Why did you say no?"
"I-I lied."
Ron was puzzled. Grateful, but puzzled.
The officer sighed, like he was exhausted from trying to deal with them. "Alright then, you can go. Your story's a little hazy, and I'll have to take down your phone number so I can call you in a few days to confirm this." He took a piece of paper and a pen out.
"Alright, I'm ready, what's your number?"
Oh shit, Ron thought. What phone number could he give? He thought quickly and gave him the only phone number he ever memorized—Hermione's parents house.
"Uh three-four-one, seven-seven-two, eight-nine-eight-seven," he said.
"Very well, then, let's go see if Ms. Granger is awake yet," said the officer as he pocketed the phone number and lead them towards the medical room.
Hermione was awake, and looking much calmer, eating a banana and sipping some water. When she saw the officer bring in Molly, she sighed with relief and went over to hug her daughter. But then she turned and saw Ron, who had a sort of dreamy look on his face, and she nearly fainted again. Ron acted quickly. From here, he had it all planned out—he had thought for years of what he would do if he ever met up with Hermione on a trip. Of course, it hadn't included her daughter in the picture, but Ron still had his intentions.
By now, the officer had left, and the health technician had her back facing them, apparently filing papers.
"Uh, we're just going to go now, thanks for all the help, though," Ron said to the health technician. Once Ron, Hermione, and Molly had walked outside the building, Molly tugged on Hermione, who had a very confused and disbelieving look on her face, 's dress, saying, "Mommy! It's daddy! You didn't tell me daddy was coming today!"
"Yes, I-I kn-know s-s-s-sweetie, what has he told you?"
"Um....nothing really, but Mommy, mommy, it's him! Now you guys have to kiss!"
Ron knew he would like to do nothing more. Hermione put on a weak smile, which quickly faded into a frown.
"Ron... WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING HERE?" Her sentence started out soft, she said his name like she wanted to reach him, she said it fondly, but somewhere in that pause she seemed to remember everything, and hated, hated, hated him.
"Hermione...so...er...I'm here for a quidditch match...yeah...um...I was walking, and I saw you, I mean I didn't know it was you, but you looked like you were going to faint, and right as I was coming up to you, you did...so I er...the police officer came...well, he actually thought I was harassing you...but it's okay, we got it all worked out...and well, then we...your er daughter and I came to er get you..."
"Oh," was all Hermione could manage.
"Listen, why don't we just go into that restaurant there, huh...Mione? We have to talk. Oh God Hermione, I can't believe it's you!"
And with that, Ron, who was unable to restrain himself any longer, went over to her and hugged her deeply, the sort of hugs he had always reserved for Hermione. And in those olden golden days, Hermione would lay her head on his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek and ruffle his hair and whisper "I love you" into his waiting ear.
And for a second, Ron and Hermione both felt like they were living in that past, yet unfortunately Hermione stumbled upon reality again and slapped Ron in the face.
"Ouch, Hermione! What? Tell me, tell me, Hermione, I've been looking for you for five fing years, what happened? I know you must be married to someone else now, or something, heck, you have a daughter, but...but...I never stopped loving you Mione."
Hermione gaped; she looked like she didn't know where to begin or what to say or how to feel even. "She's yours," she whispered.
"W-what did you say just then Mione?" asked Ron, whispering as well.
Hermione then burst into tears. "She's yours, Ron, she's yours, and no I d-didn't get married, Ron! I know you're a different story, but I didn't! This is...this is...this is our daughter, Ron."
Ron looked like he had been slapped in the face again. He looked from Molly to Hermione and then back to Molly again. It was all starting to make sense...slowly...except for the reason she left..."
"Mione...did you leave...did you leave because you were...because you were afraid to tell me you were pregnant?"
"Of course not, Ron. And I know you must have thought I was stupid, all that time, you know, thinking you actually wanted me or loved me or whatever...but I figured it out. I saw you that day!"
"What are you talking about? What do you mean you saw me?"
"You remember that day? The day I left?"
Of course Ron did. He had thought about and replayed in his mind what happened that day so many times...trying to figure out what he did wrong.
"Of course..."
"I was dropping by the front desk to drop off some cookies for the secretary...her brother had died or something...but I saw you there, in the front hall of the ministry! Honesty, Ron, I knew you were stupid, but shouldn't you have remembered I worked in the Ministry? Shouldn't you have remembered that I might have been there? Well, I saw it Ron. You and Fleur, there, kissing, snogging, I should say, well, you know what Ron? I loved you. Okay? I really did. But it was only a matter of time, you had to know that...I suppose eventually you would have told me you wanted the divorce..."
Through this whole tirade, Ron just stood there, mouth hanging wide open. Molly was looking between the two of them, her brow furrowed, trying to make sense of all this grown up talk.
"Mione...what are you talking about? Me—me and...and Fleur?"
"Oh god Ron, you know what? I saw it. Okay? And you don't need to pretend anymore, okay, the secret was let out five years ago. I know. So you can just...just leave...or whatever it is you want to do. I'm sure Fleur is wondering what's taking you so long. Okay? And you can't have Molly. I know she—she deserves better than I can probably give her, but you can't have her. So just leave, now, Ron, just leave." And with that, Hermione buried her face in one hand, and turned around, taking Molly's hand in hers, while Molly looked back forlornly at her father, tears in her eyes too.
"Wait! Mione, no! Listen, I think I know what you're talking about!"
Hermione spun around, a disgusted look on her face. "You think you know what I'm talking about? Oh, I see, so you've just realized exactly which session with Fleur I'm talking about? Yeah, it must be hard to pinpoint which time I was talking about, it must have happened so often. Bye."
"No, Hermione, wait, listen! I—didn't—have—any relations with Fleur! Heck, Mione, Fleur is married to Bill now! Uh-huh, that's right, about two years ago. And when I say I know what you're talking about, that's cause you did see Fleur in the ministry that day, snogging someone. It was Bill, Mione, it was Bill, not me! Fred and George were hiding behind the fountain, they caught the whole thing on tape and showed it at their wedding! Guess you didn't check to see exactly which Weasley she was with!"
Hermione looked dumbstruck. She had dropped Molly's hand, and no longer looked like she was about to leave. She started slowly towards him.

"Oh my god. Ron..."
"Mione...and all this time, not knowing why you left...it's been killing me Mione, it's been killing me these past five years. I never stopped loving you...that thought never even crossed my mind..."
Hermione was closer to him now, only a step away, replying, not angrily, exactly, but in a soft, sympathy thirsty tone, "It's been killing you, Ron? Oh god, Ron, you have no idea. You have no idea, I've raised ou- our daughter alone...hiding from everyone the whole time...so afraid they would find me and I'd have to face you again...we live in a one room apartment Ron, and I can't even afford to feed myself...I'd—I'd remember how we used to be...and it killed me to know that it could have all worked out...we could have had this wonderful life together..."
"I'm so sorry, Mione, I'm so sorry..." and with that, he held her in his arms, her tear stained face resting on his shoulder, and him rubbing her back tenderly. And they rested in this position, while the world around them seemed to freeze around them, for they were once more oblivious...to everything but each other.
They broke apart for a few minutes, and Hermione went over and led Molly towards Ron. "This is your daddy, Molly. This is Mr. Ron Weasley, your father."
"And this is your mother, Molly, this is your mother who I know has taken very good care of you. This is my wife, Mrs. Hermione Weasley..."
At this, Hermione's face lit up, and glowed, her eyes fixed in Ron's, before they all joined in a group hug, each one of the three knowing that it was going to be okay from then on. Everything was going to be alright.

After that, Ron and Hermione and Molly went into a restaurant, so they could do their much-needed catching up. They got a booth, Hermione and Ron sitting side by side, holding hands, with Molly facing opposite them.
"You know—it's been the longest time since I was in a restaurant...besides McDonalds, I mean."
Ron suddenly felt guilty, him having lived in such luxury for the past years. But the feeling left him quickly, as Hermione had gotten to be with such a beautiful daughter all this time. He wanted to know everything about Molly. But first...
"Mione, why did you name her Molly?"
"Do you remember, how I told you, a long time ago, I wanted to name her after your mother? Well, I did."
"Okay, but we're naming our next one Hermione."
"Our next one?" said Hermione, in an expression of utter joy, sounding like a child finding out there was still another present left to open on Christmas.
Ron just smiled back at her. For the next few hours, as they munched on about five courses, they talked about Molly, and what they'd been up to.

"You play for the Cannons? Oh Ron..."
"Yeah," he said, grinning sheepishly, "I was—uh—going to tell you when you got home on...er...that day."
"Ron, I'm so proud of you! I feel...foolish now...I mean, looking at you...you've been so successful...without me..."
"Oh but Hermione, you've accomplished so much, too! Molly is beautiful, Mione, she's wonderful, you've done so well with her...and you've been so strong...the only thing that bothers me about your job is that you've been suffering...and as for me...being successful without you...yeah, I've been living in a bit more luxury...but there's always an empty space when you aren't with me..."
And with that, they locked their eyes upon each others and pulled into a deep kiss. Molly pretended to put on a disgusted face, and shielded her eyes, but really, she was very happy to have a daddy, and to see Mommy so happy.
"So......" said Hermione, once they stood up to leave the restaurant.
"So......I love you Hermione. And I love you too already, Molly. We're never going to be apart again, I'm not letting you out of my sight again, ever."
Hermione and Ron laughed a bit at this.
"So, why don't we grab a taxi and go to your...apartment...and you can grab your stuff...and we'll..."
"And we'll..."
"And we all will go back to the hotel and stay in my suite. And then, after the match we'll..."
"We'll..."
"We ALL will go back to my place, in England. Together. In the wizarding world, again, Hermione. Molly, you've got a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins to meet. And then..."
"And then..."
"And then we'll buy a house," said Ron firmly and decisively, smiling wide and broad. "And then we'll all be living together, husband, wife, and daughter, and we'll have more kids, kids who will play in the backyard together..."
"Oh, Ron..."
"Kids who will play in the backyard together, while we hold each other under an apple tree there, kissing, while all our kids make gross faces, and then they'll go to Hogwarts...and we'll be a family Hermione, the one we always wanted to be...and we'll...we'll grow old together, and Harry will come over with Ginny, and the four of us will sit in our living room by the fire...reminiscing about our school days...and then they'll leave, you and I there alone...the kids grown, and we'll be grandparents together, Mione! And we'll still be just as much in love as always, and we'll still kiss each other each morning, and call each other pet names..."
And Hermione, tears in her eyes she was so happy, laughed a little, and the three of them left the restaurant and called a cab, to begin that life.

You're still the one, Still the one I want, oh Still the one I dream of You're still the one I want For life...

They caught a cab and rode it into Hermione's neighborhood. All three of them sat in the back seat, with Molly in the middle, and Ron and Hermione's hands clasped around the others on Molly's lap. As they reached their neighborhood, Ron tried hard to swallow his surprised face. He had no idea that it had been this bad. They told the cab just to wait for them, that it wouldn't be long, and they entered the building. Up the crooked stairs they went, until they reached Hermione's corridor, and, again, she had trouble opening the door.
Ron placed his hand over top of hers, and together they opened it with ease.
Ron again had to hide his shock at the terrible conditions of the room. Hermione said that she had no attachment to any of the furniture in it, the bed, the couch, or the table. Most of the stuff had been left by the previous owner anyway. So she picked up some of Molly's things, her backpack and teddy bear, and Hermione's dust gathering wand, and they left. Hermione told the landlord she was leaving, and wasn't coming back, and gave him the last weeks rent, emptying her pockets.
Really, it was hard for Hermione to comprehend that she didn't need to worry about money anymore, pinching pennies and searching corners for the spare dollars. It still seemed like this was all a dream. Then again, for the past five years, she had felt like she was living in a nightmare.
They piled back into the taxi, this time with Ron and Hermione next to each other, and Molly sitting in Ron's lap. He twirled Molly's bright red hair in the hand that wasn't joined with Hermione's.
And when they arrived back at the hotel, they all walked in together, beaming. Some of the other team members were lounging in the lobby, and they gaped at Ron, who was, surprisingly accompanied by a woman and a little girl. Some of them who knew Ron well, and knew his story, slowly put two and two together, and understood what must have happened. Others were just in disbelief.
It was about eight at this time, and Molly was starting to get tired, and so they went up to Ron's suite. Molly had never seen such splendor in all her life, and Hermione gasped at the rich wine colored curtains and champagne bottle waiting in a silver cooler on a small table in the middle of the room, that came automatically with all the suites.
They put Molly to bed on the second bedroom attached to the little living/entrance area.
"So..." said Hermione, fully aware that there were only two beds, one of which was taken up by Molly.
"So...how about a glass of champagne? I think we have more than enough reason to celebrate."
"Oh...yes! You know, I don't think I've had any wine for years."
"Think you can handle it?"
"If I can handle you, I can handle anything," she replied, playfully.
Ron smiled and poured two glasses, and they clinked.
"To the start of our life together," Ron said.
"Again," Hermione added.
"And may we never mistake our brothers for ourselves ever again,"
"And if we ever happen to, may we realize quickly that none of us would ever cheat on each other..."
"...because we know we're the only ones for each other..."
"And may that love last for ever..."
And with that, they drank.
Afterwards, they were content just to sit on the couch, holding each other. The silence was interrupted with a loud knock on the door.
Ron got up, resentfully, and walked over to the door, peeked through the peekhole, and opened it.
"H-hello, coach," he said.
"Greetings, Weasley. Mind if I come in for a second?"
"Oh...uh...well...okay..." muttered Ron as he scooted over to let his coach enter the room. The coach saw Hermione on the couch, and looked slightly taken aback.
"Oh...well, hi there..." he said to Hermione. "Well, then Ron, I was just stopping by to tell you our practice will be at six tomorrow morning, not seven...so you'll probably want to get an even earlier start on your shut- eye...and uh, I know you might be...er...distracted, but, uh...just make sure you get some sleep." And with that, he offered a rare wink to Ron, and left.
"Well, then, I...uh...guess you better get ready for bed..."
"Yeah...you better start getting ready too..."
Hermione looked at him, questioningly.
"Listen, Hermione, you know, we're married. We are husband and wife. Would it be okay...I mean, I'd like to...pick up where we left off..."
Hermione just blushed and gave him a smile that told him she agreed. So Ron changed into pajamas that weren't too short for him, and Hermione borrowed a t-shirt of Rons. One that she recognized as having used before.

They got under the covers, and Hermione lay with her head resting on his chest, Ron's arm around her.
"Let's talk, okay?" she asked.
"Yeah..." he whispered. "Mione...how come you never got rid of our wedding ring?"
"Oh..." Hermione chuckled. "I guess there was always a part of me, really deep inside, that still loved you. That knew that no matter how many times I told myself I hated you, and you were awful, I couldn't help but love you. And...though I never admitted it to myself, I couldn't bring myself to let go of that part either. Does that make sense?"
"I don't think love makes sense, Mione. But me loving you, if there's only one thing I understand and know is true for sure, that's it."
They spent the rest of the night talking about how things used to be, and embellishing on their plans for the future.
"You don't think Molly will mind having little sisters and brothers, do you, Mione?"
"Oh, no, not at all. It's not as if she's been living a spoiled life or anything...I think she's going to be really happy from now on..."
"She's a great kid though, it doesn't reflect on her that she's been so deprived. Not that anyone with Hermione in their lives could feel deprived."
"You really think so? I mean, you really like her?"
"Mione, I only regret I haven't been able to spend any time with her these past four years. I would have loved to be there for everything, you know, her first steps, her first word...teaching her to ride a broomstick... I love her so much, Hermione. With all my brothers and Ginny having kids, you have no idea how painful it was knowing I would never have one of my own—because I always knew the only one I would have kids with would be you—and I thought maybe I had lost you forever. But now, knowing I have one! It's the greatest feeling in the world, after knowing I have you. And she's not just any kid, Mione, she's the most wonderful, funny, beautiful, talented, smart, and...wonderful of them all!"
And with that, Hermione gave him what seemed like the millionth look of admiration, gratitude, and fulfillment.
"And you want more, more children...with me?"
"I want nothing more."
And with that, they turned off the lights.

The next morning, Hermione awoke, thinking she was on the couch in her old apartment. She still had her eyes closed, and slowly remembered that she wasn't there anymore. She had met back up with Ron, he hadn't cheated on her after all, he still loved her, they went back to his hotel, and they were going to have more kids who were going to Hogwarts and they were going to grow old together in a pretty house in England. But what if that was all a dream? She could feel her brow furrowing and her heart rate rising. Please just let this fantasy last one moment longer... both her heart and mind pleaded. She was scared to open her eyes.
She allowed her left eye to open just a crack. Not enough to tell. She bravely opened both her eyes quickly before squeezing them back shut after a second. Her sleepy mind couldn't calculate the image that fast, apparently. She took a deep breath, and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, she opened her eyes. And she saw...
Heavily peeling walls that appeared to have been white a long time ago, a battered gray sofa with the stuffing coming out in the middle of the left cushion and both armrests, a McDonalds apron slung casually over the back of it. She didn't try looking left or right or up or down or anywhere else before she burst into tears. How could it all have been a dream? It had been so vivid...she could remember how she felt when he held her, Molly's exact expression when she introduced her father to her...
But when she put her hands up to her face to wipe her eyes, they came into contact with a thin film of a plastic like material. She quickly fumbled around with her fingers, and discovered that as she disturbed the layer, the vision of her apartment rocked back and forth unsteadily. She shook her head vigorously then and the layer was gone. She then saw a pair of glasses-type looking things on a plush bedspread, which she happened to be under. The film was in place of where the lenses would be, so they looked a lot like those muggle 3-D glasses they used in the cinema sometimes. And then she looked around her, and saw the same room she had seen last night, the hotel room, but with a deluge of morning sunlight flooding through the windows. She was looking around the room when Ron appeared.
It seemed that he had just come out of the bathroom, and was smiling as he saw her awake, but his joy quickly turned to worry as he came closer and saw that her face was blotchy and tear stained.
"Oh, Mione, what's wrong? What's wrong, Mione?"
Hermione pointed to the glasses. "Th-those were on my head this morning, I just woke up, and when I opened my eyes...I saw...my old apartment, and for a few seconds I thought...oh, I had thought it was a dream, meeting with you again!"
Ron sat on the bed next to her and picked up the glasses to examine them.
"Oh, Hermione, they're despairoculars. Oh, Fred and George must've sent 'em...you see, when you wear them, you see the place you...dislike the most. They're selling these things now, in their shops, for like three sickles each, bit of a rip off really, considering they're not re-usable, but you can send them off to someone while they're sleeping...I guess they figured I'd be the one in this bed. I'm so sorry, that must have been terrible...don't worry, I'll get back at 'em...course, they'll be jealous already that I still have the most gorgeous wife in the whole universe..."
She smiled widely, despair forgotten, and they hugged tightly.
"Oh, no, Ron! You've missed your quidditch practice...oh it must be way past six now...Oh, I'm so sorry..."
"Sorry? For what? Don't worry, Mione, it's about five after nine now, I already went to practice! I got in about ten minutes ago! I had left you a note, there, on the bedside table, in case you woke up while I was gone. I'm sorry I had to go though, in case you or Molly had woken up, I would have wanted to be here. But coach would've killed me, and you wouldn't have wanted your husband in pieces would you? Besides, it was only about an hour and a half long, and I put all sorts of tracking spells on you two in case you decided to leave, and an alerting spell that could sense if you got depressed or something..."

Earlier That Morning

Ron yawned as he woke up. He didn't need an alarm clock, his body had trained itself to automatically get up at these early hours. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure it hadn't all been another one of his dreams about seeing Hermione again, but sure enough, she lay there, facing him, her eyes lightly closed, her bushy hair fanned out on the pillow around her head. He kissed her cheek, and looked longingly at the empty space by her side as he climbed out of the bed. But he put on some clothes and brushed his teeth.
He grabbed a quill and carefully wrote out a quick note to Hermione on post-it-parchment on the little table by the bed.
Dearest Hermione,
Yesterday and last night were the greatest, don't think I forgot, I just really had to go to quidditch practice. If you find this before I return, know that I WILL RETURN to the room. I should be back around nine, or so, hopefully earlier. I am counting down the minutes until I can see you (and Molly) again. I love you. I really really love you. I'll catch every quaffle if I just pretend it's you I'm catching. Actually, that's what I've always pretended... Love, Ron, your loving husband, and co-parent of our daughter

Satisfied with his message, he left it on the table there, grabbed his Firebolt Fifty, studied the map of where the practice field was, and apparated away.

Hermione smiled at him sweetly once she read the note. She noticed her mouth ached a little—was it because she had been smiling so much?
"So, what do you want to do today?"
"Oh...I don't know...what would you like to do?" asked Hermione, just thinking that anything with him would be more than fine with her.
"Well...I guess we can tour around the city...that's not really my priority anymore though...should we ask Molly, maybe?"

"Yeah, you think she's awake?"
Ron and Hermione tiptoed together into her room. She lay peacefully, her arms neatly tucked over the bedspread, her face amused, as if something funny was happening in one of her dreams.
"Honey, Molly. It's time to get up, darling."
Molly simply stirred, groaned, and turned over, burying her head in the pillow. Hermione looked at Ron, and smiled, knowing just the trick.
"Oh Molly...guess who's here...it's daddy, remember yesterday?"
Molly frowned and squinted as she tried to remember, and then suddenly broke into a great smile and jumped up, with, "Where? Where, mommy, where is he?"
"Good morning...honey...I'm right here!"
"Daddy!!!" shrieled (shriekedsquealed) Molly. And Ron was pulled into a tight hug, in which he warmly embraced his child, a feeling that was so special, a part of being a father he wasn't going to have to get used to.
Eventually, after much hugging and gazing at each other, they decided to go outside. And Ron thought, maybe they could stop and do some shopping.
First, they stopped in a little jewelry store, Ron insisting on the need to get her a late birthday present. They decided together that they liked a pair of heart earrings, simple and elegant. But when Hermione looked at the price tag she wanted to protest. "But Ron—no, there's no way—''
But Ron quieted her and proceeded swiftly to the cashier, where he charged it without slightest hesitation or look of regret. Hermione paused to put them on, and they continued on.
By the end of the day, they had been all over town, taking taxis and walking, entering all sorts of stores. Ron had bought Molly and Hermione new clothes, accessories, anything he saw them even looking at. And he carried all the shopping bags. They made it back to the hotel and stopped in the gift shop to rent a movie for the night. They decided upon "My Best Friend's Wedding," which had a PG-13 rating they hoped wouldn't scar Molly too much. They ordered in room service, and sat comfortably under a big blanket on the couch of the suite, Molly in the middle again, all of them leaning on each other.
"You think Harry felt this way at all at our wedding?" whispered Hermione towards the end, once Molly had fallen asleep in Ron's lap.
"Nah...he was, still is smatter of fact, completely happy with Ginny, I don't think he felt—feels--any regret..."
"Yeah...he's always been such a great friend...you said he's married to Ginny now?"
"Yeah...with a son...they're really happy."
"I'm glad."
"Yeah."
And with that, they finished watching the movie in silence, put Molly to bed, and kissed goodnight as the ending to the perfect day.
The next day was Monday, and they woke up together, as Ron had afternoon practice that day. They got up lazily and headed down to breakfast together.
Halfway through his bite of his croissant, Ron remembered something.
"Hermione," Ron said, gulping down his food. "Harry and Ginny and James are coming today...for my game tomorrow, you know..."
"Oh..." said Hermione, not sure whether she should be happy about this, or disappointed because they wouldn't be alone all day together.
"So, they're staying here I think...so you'll get to see them...Molly, Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry, the people I told you about...and their son, your cousin, is James. That was Harry's dad's name. James is just a year younger than you."
"Cool!" said Molly, though you could tell she was a little nervous about meeting these great people.
Author's note: is sailor juno gonna get mad at me for using the word "cool" again?
Harry and Ginny grabbed their suitcase and one by one, the three of them stepped into the fire and took the Floo Network to the wizarding hotel where Ron was. They appeared in front of the hotel, where they sauntered in, Ginny commenting on how her brother would be the tall, lonely looking guy, the poor thing. About to go up to the front desk to check in and ask for Ron Weasley's room number, they saw three people enter the lobby from the adjacent restaurant.
One was short, a little girl, with red hair, wearing a flowery skirt and shiny red shoes, with a little white polo and red ribbon in her bright red hair. Holding her hand was a tall, red haired man in a T-shirt and khakis who looked anything but lonely, and was laughing and smiling as he looked between the girl and another woman. She was about average height, with light brown, only slightly bushy hair, in a pretty black dress and pale blue sweater.
"Ron!"
Ginny rushed towards her brother, as Harry blinked confusedly at the sight from across the room with James. But then he got it, and smiled. The two of them, he thought. We all knew they were going to find each other again. They needed each other. And he strode over and gave them all a hug. They decided to go up to one of their rooms so they could continue their little reunion without attracting the attention of everyone in the hotel.
The adults talked, Hermione and Ron relaying the story for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, while James and Molly went off to jump on the master bed; they had hit off together beautifully.
They had been talking for what seemed like a short time; in reality it had been four hours. It was two thirty, and Ron had to go to practice, so Harry and Ginny and James and Hermione and Molly went out for a late lunch to continue their chatting and recounting.
Ron returned to them with tickets to the play Mama Mia!, and so all six of them got ready and went together that evening, taking a taxi to the Cleverfield's Theater. They all enjoyed the show thoroughly, because even though James and Molly didn't really understand the plot line, they enjoyed all the singing, dancing, and bright lights on stage, it being both of theirs first big show.
Ron had to be back early, of course, the tournament was tomorrow, and so they promptly returned back to the hotel once the show ended. Molly pleaded with her parents to let her sleepover in James's hotel room, and Ron, who was having trouble saying no to anything his sweet little daughter asked him, and Hermione, so happy her daughter was getting to know the people she thought she'd never meet, said yes. And so Ron and Hermione were alone for the night.
The coach had left a note on the front door...
Cannon Team Member-
The Tournament Is Tomorrow. I WANT BRIGHT EYED BEATERS and A KINDLED KEEPER, CHEERFUL CHASERS and a STIRRED SEEKER. You show up tomorrow with sleepy eyes, and you're gonna hear it, from me. This is big. So get yourself a good sleep, hear? Good job in practice today, we'll give 'em a good run for their money. See ya at nine, tournament grounds.
--Coach

"Well, it seems you've got your orders," commented Hermione, as she lifted the note from its taped place on the door.
Ron casually opened the door and shrugged. "It's not like it's the first time I've got a note like this. But it's the first time I've had someone to share the burden with."
They entered the room, gently shutting the door behind them, and proceeded to get ready for bed.

Tuesday morning came with a pale dawn, at which Ron and Hermione were already up. Ron had already called his exploitation manager, who arranged for more Top Box tickets for his new found family. Hermione was wearing a furnace-fit orange dress, and was helping Ron change into his orange and black uniform, fastening the buckles and fixing the straps for him.
They were taking the limo always reserved for the keeper, leaving Molly to come with the Potters, who would meet them in the Top Box. Usually, the ride in this car meant a brooding session of jealousy, having watched the other team members enter their limos with their girl/boyfriends, wives/husbands. But now Hermione was there with him, and it wasn't even that he was concentrating on all those lonely times and comparing them to now...he was just so caught up in enjoying the moment.
Hermione, too, was adjusting. Having been ushered into the shiny stretch car and given a morning muffin basket with her name on it (All the Players' escorts had these privileges) to eat for breakfast on the early ride, she felt rather pampered. Not that she really was paying attention to these luxuries; she was busy smiling and wondering how she landed with such a perfect guy.