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You're going places, Hermione
Chapter Twenty-One: The healing
Two children stood illuminated against a light blue background. They looked straight ahead, each with two small brown dots for eyes and red-orange hair that seemed very out of place. Hermione bit her bottom lip and carefully applied a thin paintbrush to the children's faces, giving one a wide smile and one a scowl. She pulled away from her pot with a flourish, grinning at her completed work.
"That's very good, sweetheart," Mr Granger complimented. "Is it someone we know?"
Hermione's grin faltered. "Dad, it's Morgan and Paige. Notice the red hair…"
"Ah." Mr Granger nodded. "That's right, I see it now. What do you think of mine?"
He held up his own pot and smiled broadly.
"Oh yes, that's nice." Hermione squinted at it. "It's very cute."
"Do you even know what it is?" her father demanded.
"Um, a porcupine?"
"No! It's a dragon!" He looked at it, frowned and then started chuckling. "Well, I suppose it looks a bit like a flying pig really."
Hermione laughed and placed her pot in the sun to dry. She had dreaded the prospect of helping her father decorate some pots for the garden, but it had actually ended up being quite enjoyable. Painting was relaxing and the fresh air outside had lifted her spirits, distracting her from more than unpleasant thoughts.
"Juice, anyone?" sang Mrs Granger. She swung the back door open with her hip and placed a small tray with a jug of juice and some glasses on a nearby table before proceeding over to the newly finished works of art.
"That's lovely, sweetie," Mrs Granger told Hermione. "You've got Morgan and Paige just right. But I don't know what to say about your dog, dear. What is that thing in the middle of its back?"
"They're wings," Mr Granger explained.
"So it's flying dog?"
"No, a dragon."
"Oh." Mrs Granger wrinkled her nose. "That's nice, then."
Hermione smiled and walked over to the table, lifting up the jug to pour herself a drink. She curiously watched her mother, who was examining the painting of the twins again with her head cocked to the side thoughtfully.
"Something wrong, Mum?" Hermione asked.
"No, no, not really," Mrs Granger replied. "I was just wondering, do you miss the twins terribly?"
Hermione shrugged and took a small sip of her drink. "A little."
"Just a little?"
"Well, it'd be nice to talk with Morgan about the latest book he read, and have him ask me what I thought of the fashion tips in Wizards Weekly. And I wouldn't mind listening to Paige explain some new Quidditch moves and act out the latest match she saw," Hermione considered, glancing at her painting and heaving a great sigh. She knew she missed them much more than that.
"Haven't taken her to one of them, lately, have we, dear?" Mr Granger said mildly, determinedly trying to make his dragon look more like a dragon.
"We've been busy," Mrs Granger told him.
"What?" Hermione frowned, eyeing them. "Are you saying that you take Paige to Quidditch?"
Her parents smiled and nodded.
"Fascinating game, Quidditch." Mr Granger sounded amused. "Never imagined I'd actually see a witch on a broom. But they get a bit violent, don't they? Beats wrestling."
His wife gave him an appraising look and turned to her daughter. "We take Paige to games as often as we can; it's nice to spend some time with her, because we see Morgan a little less. He doesn't like sports much, so we buy him a book instead, to make it fair."
"Sounds exactly like him." Hermione laughed, trying to hide the bitterness. Mrs Granger caught it and walked past her, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze and observing the painting again.
"You've captured them quite well," she said.
"It took me a long time to finish it," Hermione told her.
"So you've painted just the one?"
"Well…"
"She's got one of Ronald somewhere up in her room," Mr Granger piped up cheerfully, "with little hearts around it."
"Dad." Hermione blushed. "That's not funny!"
"I thought it was." Mr Granger shrugged
"Leave her alone, dear," Mrs Granger chided.
Hermione huffily sat back down where she had been painting previously and picked up a blank pot. She grabbed a paintbrush and shoved it into a jar of black paint before applying it in copious amounts to the orange pot. Hermione's mother watched her carefully and then, with a slight smile, tapped her husband on the shoulder.
"Come on, dear, it's nearly one o'clock," she informed him. "Time for us to get going."
"Where?" Mr Granger appeared confused for a moment before something seemed to click. "Oh, yes. Right."
"We'll be back later, sweetie," Mrs Granger told Hermione. "If you need us, you know your father's mobile number."
"Where are you going?" Hermione demanded, her paintbrush hovering above her art.
"Just out. Do a bit of shopping and such." Her mother bent down and kissed her on the top of her head. "Be good, and remember your manners."
"Um, okay."
"Bye, sweetheart." Her father waved and winked at her before following his wife into the house with a definite skip in his step. A few minutes later, Hermione heard their car reverse out of the driveway and eventually disappear down the street with a screech. Her dad must be driving.
She had strange parents; there was no doubting that.
Hermione put the pot she was painting down and considered it. So far, it was a dark splash of paint, forming no shape in particular. But, if she added a little brown, and bit of pink and yellow, extending the shape a little…
"Looks like Sirius, when he was in dog form."
Hermione shrieked and spun around, brandishing her paintbrush like a wand. She found herself facing Ron, who looked bemused as he glanced at the paintbrush and then back at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Not that I am an attacker, but if I was…" He shook his head. "I don't think that would do much."
Hermione gradually lowered her arm, but was unable to slow down her beating heart. She stared down at her paint covered overalls and attempted to smooth down her hair. Why had she decided to not brush it that morning?
"Er, juice?" she asked.
Ron frowned, "Sorry?"
"Do you want a drink? There's juice…"
"Oh! No, thanks."
"Okay."
They looked at each other and Hermione felt an embarrassed flush begin to creep up her cheeks. Two weeks ago she had told Ron she loved him, in which he'd rejected her, broken up with his girlfriend and disappeared from everyone. Now he was standing before her, with his arms folded casually across his chest as though his being there didn't mean anything.
"So, how are the twins?" Hermione finally asked, proud she had managed to say something.
"They're okay. Miss you a bit."
"I miss them too." She paused. "Could I, if you don't mind, see them sometime or something?"
"Yeah." Ron looked baffled. "Of course!"
"Oh, I just thought that because of when…you know…you wouldn't want me seeing them…" She trailed off, feeling like an idiot. Ron also looked at a loss for words.
"I don't know if I told you," Hermione said suddenly, "but that spell I put on myself wore off."
He nodded. "Yeah. Gin told me."
"Oh, okay."
They smiled politely at each other, both searching for something to say.
"Your parents not here?" Ron wondered, glancing everywhere but at her.
"They left just before you came, to go shopping or something."
"Oh, 'cos I told them I was coming over at one…"
Hermione smacked her forehead with her hand. No wonder they'd been so strange when they left! They'd wanted to leave her alone with Ron for some privacy. It was nice of them to do. However, she didn't know whether or not she'd be thanking them or reprimanding them for it.
"Would you like to go inside?" Hermione asked Ron, smiling.
"No!" He seemed startled. "This won't take long."
Her smile faded. That didn't sound very good.
"Well…okay. What is it?"
Ron cleared his throat.
"I dunno how to say this, I'm not that good with words, you know that-" He stopped and paused, as though carefully considering what he was going to say next, "You remember how much I liked Quidditch when we were in school?"
"Um…yes." Hermione was puzzled. "But what does that have to do with-"
"Well I had to give it up when Paige and Morgan were born, right? I borrowed some money off Fred and George and bought the house we're in now and spent the next few years after that looking after them. And then when they were three I put them into childcare and got a job at the Ministry and I've been working there ever since. Earning money, and still raising the kids and stuff." Ron sighed and nervously ran his hand through his hair. "Well, I've been too busy to play Quidditch at all and haven't even flown on a broom since we were at school."
Hermione lowered her eyes so she wasn't looking at him. She didn't know where Ron was going with this, but it felt like a guilt trip to her. He'd been tied down since he was eighteen because of her.
"Listen," Hermione said quickly, "I'm sorry about that. But I don't know what more I can do than apologise."
"No! I'm not…it's not that," Ron said earnestly. "I forgive you for that, really. What was it Dumbledore was always on about? Second chances?"
"Yes," she murmured.
"Well, there's something to that, isn't there? So I reckon if Paige and Morgan can forgive you, then I definitely can." He said with a shrug.
"Thanks Ron." Hermione gave him a watery smile. If she loved him before, she definitely loved him now. Not that it really did her any good.
Ron grinned and ran his hand through his hair again. "But anyway, back to Quidditch. You get that I had to give it up right?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"And I haven't played it since school?"
"Yes."
"Well…" He paused. "It's like this. Er, just because I never played it, doesn't mean I didn't miss it. And I still love it."
He stopped then, watching her carefully for the impact of his words to sink in. But for all the life of Hermione she couldn't grasp what is was he had told her. He couldn't play Quidditch, but he still missed it? She scrunched up her face in confusion.
"Bloody hell," Ron cursed, seeing she didn't understand. "See? I'm no good with words!"
"No, no, it's all right," Hermione held up her hand, still thinking. "Just give me a moment."
Ron sighed, "Okay."
So, Hermione thought, Quidditch. He'd missed it, but that didn't mean he'd stopped loving it. What in Merlin's name did that have to do with her? Or was it not even meant to do with her? Perhaps it was like a riddle. A metaphor or something…
"Ron," Hermione said slowly, looking up at him as something clicked into place, and hoping beyond hope that what she was about to say wasn't going to be thrown back at her. "Am…am I Quidditch? Is that what you meant?"
Ron's face brightened. "You're still as brilliant as ever."
Hermione broke out into a thoroughly relieved smile and all the unhappiness that had filled her moments before washed out in a single second. She gazed across at Ron and found herself suddenly speechless.
"Never kind of stopped loving you, you know?" Ron said, the tips of his ears darkening. "I realised that when you came back. But I didn't think you felt the same. Plus, you were with Harry and I was with Caddie."
"Um, about that-"
"Don't bother, Harry's already told me it was an act." Ron narrowed his eyes briefly. "And a bloody stupid one at that."
"Sorry," Hermione apologised with a strained smile.
"Yeah, you should be." He was grinning again. "But it worked didn't it? I woke up to myself."
"And Caddie got hurt." She didn't want to bring her up, but the words leaked from her mouth before she could stop herself. "I feel awful about that."
"Me too, but it'll be for the best," Ron admitted and frowned briefly, momentary guilt etched across his face.
"So." Hermione bit her bottom lip. "What happens now?"
"Well, if you wanted to go out-" he began.
"Yes!" she replied immediately, interrupting him.
"Good. I'll get Ginny to babysit and we'll go to dinner or something." Ron looked as happy as Hermione felt. "But we'll have to take it slow, all right? No mistakes this time."
"I wouldn't dream of jeopardising it for anything," Hermione told him fervently, "Not for a million scholarships to Sister Salem!"
She smiled so widely that it hurt her mouth, but refused to remove it. Everything was going to be fine. Great. Perfect. She had Paige and Morgan in her life, and if she was careful, she might eventually have Ron too.
Hermione was mentally swearing to herself that she was never going to leave England again when she noticed Ron looking at her strangely.
"What? Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly.
"No…" Ron edged a bit closer to her, extending his hand. "It's just…you've got a little paint…right there."
He touched her cheek softly and rubbed it. Hermione flushed.
"Oh, silly of me, I should be more careful," she muttered nervously.
"Yeah." Ron nodded and moved closer still.
"So, is it off?" Hermione felt her knees going weak; she hadn't been this close to him in years and could clearly see the two different shades of blue in his eyes.
"Just a little bit…more…"
His warm breath made contact with her face and Hermione inhaled sharply, her heart beating wildly. He came closer, and closer, until he was only half an inch away, still rubbing her cheek absently with his finger.
"Ron-"
Hermione was cut off as Ron cupped her cheek and pulled him to her, putting his lips to hers and kissing her roughly. She threw her arms around him and when one of his hands slid down to the dip in her waist, she pushed herself closer to him.
If she had felt happy before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Hermione mused momentarily over how miserable she had been a few days before, even a few hours before. It was amazing how easily something could change.
"Do you want stay for dinner?" Hermione gasped when they pulled apart for some air. Ron's brow furrowed in thought and she was haste to add something.
"But of course," Hermione said quickly, "you don't have to. After all, you said you wanted to take it slow and I'm a very willing to do that. Say no if you want and don't feel any pressure at-"
"Shut up." Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course I'll stay for dinner."
"Are you s-"
"Yes!" he said firmly. "I'm just thinking about what to do with Morgan and Paige."
"They can come too, everyone can come! Just as long as you're there…" Hermione grinned at him and Ron smiled back slowly, before nodding his head.
"C'mon," He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the back door. "I've known you for nearly twenty years and never once have I seen the inside of your house…"
Hermione allowed him to lead her and didn't once think about what might lay ahead. For the first time in her life, she was ready and willing to let what might come, simply come. What would happen, would happen.
She'd just meet it when it came.
!!!
A/N: Sorry guys! I'm haste to update this again! I've just been so busy, and this was the soonest I could get the chapter up!
It's nearly over! Only one more to go!
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AngelEyes