Chapter 2
Two hours and a roll of parchment later, Hermione stretched and glanced at the clock. Ron only stayed out longer than an hour once a week or so, and on those days, Seamus generally came over to visit for a while. She had better be wearing more than a robe when company arrived or Ron would be angry and she'd be embarrassed. Although, in the state they would be in, she doubted Seamus would even notice.
She slipped into jeans and a shirt she'd had since Hogwarts, twisted her hair into a bun, and curled up on the lumpy couch. She was still thrilled to think about her new job and kept running over her ideas in her mind. Mr. Tiddlywink had given her a folder full of his plans and propositions, and she'd spent the rest of her workday reading through the information. She could hardly wait to tell Harry and Ginny about it, and the rest of the family. Ron, she expected, would be upset, not because of the travel or because she hadn't consulted him, but because she was achieving a dream. He barely spoke to Harry since he'd become an Auror or to Ginny when she'd accepted a position as Chaser for the Cannons. Fred and George had offered him a partnership in their joke enterprise, which was growing by leaps and bounds, but he had said he didn't need a sympathy job from his brothers and kept his place at the Ministry. She didn't have the heart to tell him Percy had pulled strings to get that job for him.
She wondered sometimes if his lack of recognition for his efforts in the war all boiled down to the final battle. Wormtail and Crouch had been sent to wipe out most of the Order, whom Voldemort had imprisoned. Harry had been expecting something like that and they had made a plan for Ron to go take care of them and for him to stay and battle Voldemort. They didn't know that she was with them in Godric's Hollow as well. She had followed with Moody's Invisibility Cloak, knowing she'd be needed, even though they'd both wanted her to stay behind. Ron had Apparated and she didn't know where he'd gone, or she would have gone to help him. Harry realized she was there when his injuries appeared to keep healing themselves, thanks to her murmuring the many healing charms she'd memorized from under the cloak. Voldemort had believed the miraculous healing to be more of Harry's love magic. Without her, Voldemort would have sliced him up, bled him, and let him die slowly, instead of the quick, convenient Avada Kedavra. In the end, Voldemort had cursed Dumbledore, layered insult upon insult upon Harry's beloved headmaster, and given Harry the boiling hatred he needed to work the killing curse.
At the time, Rufus Scrimgeour was still Minister and wouldn't acknowledge anyone's part but Harry's in the downfall of the Dark Lord. For a long time, Ron hadn't believed that Hermione had been there, despite Harry's insistence that she'd saved his life. Ron had never been the same since the night he'd begrudgingly accepted that his wife and his best friend had defeated Voldemort without him. He had saved all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix that night, and received a medal and a nice reward from the Ministry, but he still felt as if he had missed out on the glory. After the initial interest had died down, the Ministry and the public had forgotten about both him and Hermione.
When she considered it, she supposed that everyone but him was achieving their dreams. She couldn't help but think that if he would stop feeling sorry for himself and moping over what he couldn't change his life would improve a great deal. He was getting to the point that even his family could barely tolerate him. She didn't really blame any of them; he used his tongue like a razor to everyone who was happier than he was. He was terribly rude and rather mean. She wished he could be happy, but she had realized a long time ago that his happiness wasn't anyone's responsibility but his, not even hers.