Waiting For You
First let me apologize for the time between this chapter and the last. Things in the real world got entirely too real for a while there, and I couldn't see my way clear to my imagination. I hated not being able to write, but I think things are clearing up a bit now. I truly hope there are those of you out there that are still around to want to read the rest of this after our long separation (sniff). If so, you all know that you have my eternal gratitude for reading my hopes for the future of our favorite witches and wizards. Thanks for sticking around…
I own nothing but a few treasured possessions…and sadly none of them are the rights to these wonderful characters.
Also, I need to note that the chapters that came before were one for every year and event within that year. However, with this chapter, I have to split it in two for many reasons. One, they wouldn't cooperate with me and stick to what I had planned, making for a long chapter. Two, the longer I wrote, the longer the time it took me to post this so I decided to post what I have just to prove that I'm still around! The second part will still be in Hermione's pov, the same year and same event, so as not to mess that part up.
So, without further ado…
Chapter 4 – A Good Life
She couldn't help it; she had to look again.
She had promised herself – no, vowed to herself, that she wouldn't look. It didn't do any good, and had only caused her to feel her impatience transform her into a tight ball of nerves.
The more she looked, the more she thought, and that was decidedly a severely dangerous thing to allow herself to do at this point. Her over-analytical brain was buzzing with all the questions she'd forced herself not to examine, and her carefully controlled world blurred before her with no clarity in sight.
Six-fifteen.
The intricate numbers glared back at her as if to tell her the time hadn't changed much since the last time she'd tried to keep her word to herself. She didn't care, though. In truth, she was feeling a bit like a caged animal, waiting for the click of the lock to announce her escape from herself.
Where are you, Harry? She turned on her heel and reversed direction, giving the offensive clock her back.
Harry had told her six. She was used to waiting for him on more than one occasion, but she had thought he knew how anxious she had been all week for tonight to hurry up and get here. Tonight, of all nights, she really wished her best friend was more punctual.
And just like that her thoughts snapped, just like a rubber band, back to what she'd been trying to push out of her mind for the last fifteen minutes.
Her other best friend.
She hadn't seen Ron with her own two eyes for a little over six months. She'd seen photographs of his team in the Daily Prophet, heard his voice over the telephone – she assumed someone on the Cannons was from a Muggle home – a handful of times, and had read his illegible scrawl on countless letters delivered by Pig.
It wasn't the same, though. She needed to see his face…the way his eyes would light up if he was amused by something…the small lift of his chin when he was making an attempt to keep his opinions to himself…the ease of his smile that reassured her that he was happy…
She missed it all.
She missed him. Terribly.
She still couldn't imagine trying to repay him for how he'd seen her through everything that had happened over the last two years. He hadn't left her side if he could help it after Neville's funeral, and when she'd finally seen her way clear of her guilt and grief, he'd been there still. Making sure, as he'd always done, that she was enjoying her life.
Which is why their present separation was almost unbearable. For the last two years, she'd seen him every day, and for the eight years before that, almost every day. Heaven help her, she'd gotten used to him being around. And now that he wasn't, she felt his absence almost physically. It was as if she had a space inside of her that couldn't be filled with more hours at the hospital or hanging out with Harry and Ginny.
The space could only be filled by Ron, and if Harry didn't hurry up and get here already, she'd be forced to hex him into next week.
What would it be like to see Ron after all this time apart? The question had plagued her unmercifully ever since getting his letter inviting her to visit, and she wasn't any closer to answers now than she had ever been. All she knew was that it would be a severe test of her restraint and strength to not throw herself at him the moment she saw him. For the one thing she wanted most in the world was to feel his arms around her again.
The last time he'd held her they'd been in the kitchen of the Burrow on the night he left for Italy. She had clung to him as if she'd never let go, but when they had finally parted, the look in his eyes had reassured her that everything was going to be just fine. He had given her a slow, soft smile, but when she couldn't return it, it had faded from his face, replaced with an intensity in his eyes that she had never seen there before. Seconds later, however, he'd turned from her and said goodbye to his parents before apparating to the Cannons clubhouse to travel with the rest of the team.
Hermione collapsed into the armchair facing the kitchen and stared blankly at the tidiness of her living space.
The way she felt about Ron had shifted and changed so much over the course of their friendship that she was finding it hard to see what was real and what was just her wishful thinking. There had been a time, what seemed like forever ago, when they had both been incredibly close to admitting they felt more than friendship for each other. It had been the most confusing, frustrating, exhilarating time of her life…but it had been cut short by their search for the remaining horcruxes and their involvement in the war.
After that, their friendship had never been more solid. They depended on each other and needed each other more and more each day, but it came at a small price. Their other feelings had fallen to the wayside. It had been impossible to both heal properly and analyze their relationship at the same time. She didn't regret the road they'd taken, but she couldn't help feeling a bit sad when she thought of the opportunity that might not ever come again.
Now, she was embarking upon her career as a healer, and he was traveling the world with the Cannons. They rarely saw each other, and although they found a way to stay involved in each other's lives, it wasn't the same.
She couldn't help wondering if he'd found someone to keep him busy when the team wasn't playing. A small tug pulled at her stomach, making her realize that even if she'd shelved thoughts of the two of them long ago, she wasn't above the petty schoolgirl jealousy that reared its ugly head when it came to thinking about him and another woman that wasn't her.
Rubbing a hand wearily across her eyes, she chided herself for her silliness. Ron was her friend – her best friend – and if she didn't stop acting like a mindless twit, she'd ruin what little time they would have together this weekend.
And she'd missed him too much to waste one single second.
Just then, Hermione heard a key working in her lock and she whipped around to face the door. Harry entered a second later, looking chagrined and apologetic.
"I know, I know," he said by way of a greeting, letting his overnight bag fall unceremoniously to the floor at his feet. "I'm sorry I'm late, but there was a big blow-up at the Scotland game and neither side wanted to back down…"
He chose the armchair opposite hers and sank into it wearily. "I would have sent Hedwig ahead with a note, but that would have just wasted time I needed to spend dealing with overheated, opinionated Quidditch jocks."
Hermione stifled a giggle, opting instead to roll her eyes at him. "It wasn't long ago you were an overheated, opinionated Quidditch jock, so be nice," she scolded lightly, although there was no malice in her tone. She knew how hard Harry worked at his position in the Magical Games and Sports Division of the Ministry.
Harry huffed and ran his hands through his unruly hair, making it stick out in a hundred different directions. "I was never this bad. Want to know what the fight was about?"
She didn't, really. She wanted to get going so they could go see another opinionated Quidditch jock. It didn't matter what she wanted, though, since Harry had already continued talking.
"And then the captain of the Irish team said that the bludger wasn't even regulation size, so every goal scored after his injury should be discounted. I swear, Hermione, you're lucky I'm here at all," he said, leaning his head back against the soft cushioning of the chair.
Hermione was afraid he'd doze off right there and then. It wasn't that she didn't care about his day or anything, but if he decided to grab a quick nap, she'd have another hour or so to slowly drive herself mental.
"So, are you ready to get going, then?" she asked suddenly, pushing off of the armchair. Harry's surprised eyes met hers as she hovered above him, and after a moment, they softened into a look of understanding and amusement.
"Anxious, are we?" he teased, trying to stifle the grin that so evidently wanted to spread across his face.
"No," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "I've just been sitting around for two hours waiting for you to finish work, and I don't exactly fancy having to sit around for another two while you take a nap."
Harry laughed and rose out of his own chair, looking down on her from only inches away. He put his hands on her shoulders. "I've missed him too, Hermione," he said lightly.
She sighed, expelling the breath wearily. She should have known that Harry would understand. She had to stop letting her emotions run wild like this. It made her feel like a stranger in her own skin, and with another steadying breath, she allowed herself to smile back at him.
"Just let me splash some water on my face and we can get going," he said, releasing her and walking toward the bathroom.
As Hermione watched him walk away, her conscience pricked at her. "Harry, I was being silly. We have plenty of time…if you want, I can make you something to eat," she said, causing him to stop with his hand on the bathroom knob and turn to face her.
"No, that's alright," he said, his eyes still holding their amused look. "And it's not just because you're the world's worst cook."
He ducked into the bathroom before she could hurl an insulting retort at him, but it didn't matter. They would be leaving soon, and she would be seeing Ron again.
When they arrived at the designated apparition point, Harry said that they had to walk about a half a mile to the stadium through the small town of Napoli. Hermione was glad for it; her stomach had started knotting up again, and the walk would do her good.
The town was incredibly charming, and Hermione found herself getting lost in the Italian architecture. She knew from Ron's letters that the team spent a lot of time in the town, and she could see why. It had everything they needed, including a small, welcoming pub which Harry informed her was a local hangout and a favorite of the Cannons when they were here in Italy.
"Well, we're here," Harry announced, gesturing ahead of him at the massive structure standing before them.
"I can see that," Hermione fussed, her hands immediately going from smoothing her shirt over her jeans to her hair. "No need to state the obvious, Harry."
"Alright," he smirked at her. "Then I suppose I won't say that you look like you're about to be sick."
She spared a long-suffering look at him and he chuckled. "It's going to be fine, Hermione. He's missed you as much as you've missed him. Nothing's going to be different."
That was what she was afraid of…
They entered the stadium and instantly they heard the magnified voices of the Chudley Cannons. Hermione winced at the sheer volume of the noise and glanced at Harry, whose eyes had lit up upon hearing the very familiar Quidditch terminology.
"Why do they have to amplify their voices?" she asked, raising the volume of her own voice so she could be heard.
It was Harry's turn to give her a long-suffering look. "It's so the captains can talk to all the players, no matter where they are on the field, and they can answer each other without wearing out their voices."
"Oh." She steeled herself against the loud sounds bouncing around before her as they entered the main arena. They found a spot against the bottom row of benches where they could sit and wait for practice to be over.
Hermione's eyes immediately began searching for Ron. She found him almost instantly, and when she saw him perform a lazy loop around the posts as the Chasers were setting up some sort of rushing play, her pulse began thudding painfully in her veins.
There he was. He was less lanky than she remembered him being, but of course he would have filled out a bit after all the Quidditch he'd been playing, practically non-stop for the last year. His hair had gotten longer from what she could tell, and she wondered idly how he could even see the Chasers barreling down on him like they were now.
"He's looking good isn't he?" Harry asked, breaking her out of her close inspection.
Hermione blushed and averted her gaze. "Well, he certainly looks as if Italy agrees with him," she said, flustered that Harry would ask such a personally pointed question.
Harry looked at her quizzically for a moment, then barked out a short guffaw. "I meant he looks like he's gotten really good at Keeper in the past few months."
Hermione felt her cheeks redden even more, and she kicked at a large pebble by her foot. "Of course you did," she said, trying to cover. "And I meant that his training in Italy must be agreeing with him."
"Of course you did," repeated Harry, his voice laced with amusement. She shoved him with her side, and he laughed again. "It's alright, Hermione. It's not like I haven't been around the two of you for the last ten years or so. I'm not completely clueless, no matter what you and Ginny might think."
She didn't think her embarrassment could be any more complete than it was right now.
She was wrong.
"Hey, Weasley, are those the friends you've been waiting on?"
Whomever had spoken had forgotten to take the amplifying charm off his voice, and the words echoed around the stadium just as Ron tossed the Quaffle out to the waiting Chaser.
His head whipped around, and when his eyes landed on them, she could see the smile cross his face even from where she was sitting.
"Wait, is that Harry?" another man said, also forgetting to muffle his voice. "Heya there, Harry!"
Harry raised his hand in recognition of the other man, grinning at Hermione. "That's Marcus Felden. He's a legacy on the team…54 years old and still kicking around up there with the 'young bucks', as he calls them."
"Who's the pretty little lass you've got sittin' next to you?" the older man called back. Hermione fought the silly urge to duck behind Harry's shoulder as the amplified voice announced his question to the entire team.
Now all eyes were on her, and she felt like sinking through the bench. She saw Ron fly up to his inquisitive teammate, touching his wand to his throat as he moved. At least Ron had the sense to take off the amplifying charm.
"Hermione Granger, eh?" Marcus called out, waving now at her. "I've read about you young lady. Clever as well as pretty…what are you doing hanging around with these two knuckle-heads?"
Ron's captains obviously knew that regaining any semblance of control now would be a useless endeavor, so they dismissed everyone with a reminder about the practice game tomorrow morning.
Ron was the first to touch down, and Harry and Hermione were out on the grass before he could shoulder his broom.
Hermione's hands were shaking so badly she had to put them inside her pockets. As Ron approached, she couldn't help but take him all in. His hair really was longer than she'd ever seen it, but she loved how it curled over the back of his collar and fell across his forehead. He walked with a confidence in his stride that she'd never seen there before, and it set her heart pounding even harder than it was.
As he got closer, she could see his face clearly. There was an easy smile on his face and the only thought that was coursing through her spinning mind now was that her best friend had never looked happier. He had never seemed so sure of himself and his surroundings as he did now…here…
"Hey!" he called out, jogging the last few feet to them and dropping his broom before swooping Hermione into his arms. She barely had a moment to think about the fact that all the worrying she'd done about their first meeting after all this time had been for nothing. She let herself relax into his embrace and even allowed herself to enjoy it.
Ron was here, holding her, and it did in fact seem that he'd missed her as much as she'd missed him.
When he finally did release her, she stepped back so he could greet Harry as well. In truth, she wanted another minute to look him over and assure herself that he was in fact real.
His easy grin was still in place when he shook Harry's hand, clapping him on the shoulder soundly. "The boys are already talking about who gets you tomorrow in the scrimmage."
"I don't know," Harry said, clearly relishing the idea of playing again. "I think last time was enough."
Ron waved off his comment and turned to Hermione. His eyes glinted in the late afternoon sun, making him look positively mischievous. "I'm guessing we can't talk you into getting up there?"
Hermione laughed, finding his carefree attitude and happiness quite infectious. "Not on your life."
"Ah, well. You'll just get to have a bit of a lie-in then," he said, swooping down quickly to collect his broom. "Which you very well may need after tonight's pub crawl."
"Pub crawl?" she asked, her eyes shifting from Ron to a now-laughing Harry. "I'm afraid to ask."
"Good," Harry and Ron said at the same time, sharing a very wicked grin if she did say so herself.
"So I have to head back to the dorms to shower and change, but we can check you into the inn first if you want," Ron said to her, gesturing toward the bag over her shoulder.
"No, it's alright. We can walk back with you and then I'll pick it up after dinner."
Just then, a rather large man with a captain's letter on his cloak came striding up behind Ron, shoving him good-naturedly in the back.
"Next time you have visitors, Weasley, how about a little bit of warning?" the man said, his tone light and teasing.
"Sorry about that, Evan," said Harry, reaching forward to shake the man's outstretched hand. "Didn't mean to scare off your team."
Evan waved off his apology. "No worries, Harry. This sorry lot wasn't doing all that well before you arrived as it was."
Ron rolled his eyes at him, but Hermione could tell he held nothing but respect for the captain of his team. "Come off it," he said to Evan, who was now standing there grinning with his arms folded across his chest. "You'll have them thinking the trip out here was a waste of time. This will be the first time Hermione's seen the Cannons play, after all."
Evan turned to face Hermione and extended his hand. "I'm assuming that would be you, despite Ron's utter lack of introductory manners."
Hermione laughed and shook his head. "Nice to meet you. We really are sorry we stopped practice."
Evan's eyes glinted as he released her hand. "We were done anyway. I do have a word of caution for you, though. The boys are all extremely curious about you already, and since they've met Harry before, plan on being bombarded with about a million questions from a bunch of unruly ignorant fools."
Hermione looked over to Ron and Harry, who were both staring at her with barely contained grins. They obviously knew the men on the team well, and she didn't know whether they were smiling because what Evan had said was so ludicrous and out of character for them, or whether it was because what he'd said was true.
"I think I can handle it," she said, unsure.
Evan sized her up quickly. "I don't doubt that."
They began walking back to the dorms, and as Evan engaged Harry in an intense conversation about next year's scheduled World Cup tournament, Ron fell back a step and shortened his stride to match hers.
"How have you been?" he asked, grinning that same easy grin she'd seen on his face when he'd landed on the pitch. "Anything exciting at work lately?"
"I've been good," she said, returning his smile. "Work has been hectic, but nothing all that exciting. My boss said she's going to sign my application for early exams, so I'll be able to get out of the intern program within the next six months."
"That's fantastic," he said, pride shining in his eyes. "Of course, it's expected, but it's still fantastic."
She laughed, swatting him on the arm. "I've been much better lately with all of that. In fact, you'd be proud of me. Ginny was supposed to help me study for the last exam, but when she came over we chucked the whole thing and went out for dinner."
"Wild woman," he smirked, earning him another swat. "Is she still coming in tomorrow night?"
Hermione nodded. "She wanted to come with us, but she had a group of ambassadors to meet with early tomorrow morning that couldn't be rescheduled."
Ron tsked and shook his head. "Just like my sister. Putting foreign ambassadors before her own brother."
As Ron continued his fake rant against his sister, Hermione couldn't help but stare at his profile. He really was the most relaxed and happy she'd seen him. A surge of emotion rushed through her so quickly that it almost winded her. She loved seeing him like this. It was as if he was allowed, finally, to be himself in his entirety.
"What?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"What?" she echoed, embarrassed that she'd been caught in her careful perusal of him.
"You were looking at me funny," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Kind of like I had dirt on my nose or something."
Hermione laughed quietly at his little private joke, but all the sweet memory served to do was make the ache in her just a little stronger. She was afraid that if he kept this up, all of the thoughts she'd vowed to keep under control while she visited would be gone by the time they got back to his dormitory.
"I'm just happy to see you, is all," she said honestly. She could give him at least that much.
The other corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm happy to be seen."
She smiled back at him, unconscious of anything but his eyes on her face. He seemed to be looking for something only he could see, but after a moment, he let his gaze slide off her as they approached the pathway to the entrance to the dormitory.
"There's a lounge on the bottom floor that you and Harry can hang out in while I go upstairs to get changed," he said. "I promise I won't be long."
"Take your time," she said, following Harry and Evan through the door Ron was now holding open. "We're going to be here a few days."
"Yeah, you are," Ron said happily, shooting a wave over his shoulder as he and Evan entered the stairwell to the upper floors.
Hermione stood in the middle of the lounge, watching the door close behind them.
"They have these amazing inventions, you know," Harry said, breaking into her thoughts. "They're called sofas, and it turns out they're really good for sitting on."
Hermione turned to face him, her lips pursed. Harry was really enjoying every second of this, and if Ginny didn't hurry up and arrive to take his mind off teasing her, she would never forgive her.
"Very funny, Harry," she said, sinking down onto one of the sofas facing the windows.
"So what do you think?" he asked, sitting next to her on the sofa and putting his feet up on the low table. "He looks happy, doesn't he?"
"Yes, he does," she said, smiling without realizing it. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."
Harry laced his hands behind his head. "I know. Being out here with the Cannons really agrees with him," – he shot her a teasing look – "as you mentioned before."
"It's strange," she said, pointedly ignoring his remark, "I knew from his letters that he was having fun out here, but it's totally different seeing it in person."
"He deserves this," Harry said, dropping all hints of teasing now. "It's like he gets a chance to forget that the last few years even happened."
Hermione looked at the side of his face. "Is that what you do?" she asked, curious to hear what Harry would say. She knew that the war had impacted them all differently, but out of all of them, Harry talked about it the least. "Forget that the war happened?"
"Not really," Harry said, shrugging. "I mean, I don't think about it as much as I used to. I just meant that Ron went through a lot of stuff that maybe he wouldn't have ever had to go through under different circumstances, and now he gets to enjoy an actual life now."
"We all do," Hermione said, curling her legs onto the couch beside her. "But you're right. It's nice to see him doing what he's always wanted to do."
Not more than five minutes later, Ron bounded into the waiting area. Hermione couldn't help but watch him as he strode over, looking quite fetching in his jeans and a casual t-shirt.
"I don't know about the two of you, but I'm starving," he said as he reached the two of them. He looked to Harry for support in his efforts to get food into his mouth as soon as possible, to which Harry grinned and stood up as well.
"What do you say, Hermione?" Ron asked, turning his attention to her. "Ready to see Napoli?"
She got up off the sofa and didn't realize how close she was standing to Ron until she tried to move and almost tripped over his feet. He caught her arm and waited until she righted herself…as she died of humiliation. Now she was so disturbed by his presence that she couldn't even stand solidly on the ground?
"I'll take that as a yes," he joked, releasing her arm. "I want to show you the town, but it's going to have to wait until after dinner. I can't remember the last time I ate."
They made their way out of the dormitory, Harry making a smart comment about short-term memory loss, and Ron retorting with a wisecrack of his own. Hermione stayed silent, watching the two men she loved most in the world (besides her father, of course) and realizing that the emptiness she'd been feeling for the past few months was no longer there.
As always, with them, she felt complete. And Ron was the one who made her whole.
All throughout dinner Hermione kept lapsing into long bouts of silence, preferring to watch Harry and Ron as they joked around, shoveled food into their mouths and then joked around some more. It reminded her a lot of when they'd been in school together, before their fourth year when everything had started to get so…complicated.
She didn't want anything to spoil how right this all felt, and that included her own wandering thoughts. She would most definitely not dwell on the fact that Ron's hair fell charmingly into his eyes whenever he leaned over the table. She wouldn't let the tingling rush under her skin whenever their arms brushed get the better of her. She wouldn't give into the desire to simply stare at his profile and half-wish for, half-dread, the moment he'd look up and catch her staring.
No, things were fine just the way they were.
After dinner, they took a long walk around the village. Hermione and Harry did much of the talking, catching Ron up on news from home. When the sky started darkening, signaling the end of their perusal of the town and its surroundings, Ron suggested they head to the pub to meet up with the team.
"We don't have to stay long," he said, noticing Hermione's apprehensive look. "I see those guys all the time."
"No, it's fine," she assured him. "We're here to see you, and if this is what you do on nights before a scrimmage, than that's what we'll do, too."
He led them to the pub and the second he walked through the door, Hermione knew she was in for a long, stressful night. The team had already secured a long table to the back of the pub, and began singing chants at them the moment they spotted them.
"Ah, here's the gang now!" yelled Anthony, a burly, sandy-haired beater. "You lot are just in time. We have all these pints and no one to claim them!"
Evan slid his own pint over to Hermione as she took a seat at the table. Ron laughed, grabbing one from the middle of the table as he slid in next to her. "You guys don't waste any time, do you?" he said.
Evan grinned, sharing a look with his teammates. "That's just a small bribe for your friends to get them to tell some stories about you, Weasley. You know, from before you became a hero of the free world and an International Quidditch star."
Ron laughed and placed his arms across his chest. "See, that's the rub, mates. They're my best friends, not yours, and they'd never say anything to embarrass me. Especially Hermione here."
Hermione raised her eyebrows first at Ron, then at Harry, who had quite a wicked grin on his face as he turned to face the team.
For the next hour or so, Hermione and Harry took turns telling any story they could think of about Ron from the years since they'd first met him. With every story told, Ron would feign more and more disgust that his business was being broadcast to his teammates, but the wide grin on his face just egged them on even more.
Hermione leaned away from his arm and grabbed her pint glass. "Well, there was this one time when he hiccoughed slugs for about two days," she said demurely. "And then there was the severe crush he had on his sister-in-law when she first visited our school. Little did he know she was going to marry his brother in a few short years…he was quite taken with her," she said, only letting a little of the old jealousy she felt for Fleur creep into her tone.
Marcus slapped his thigh. "She wound up becoming your sister-in-law?" he asked, laughing. "You poor bloke."
"Yeah, well, she's part veela," Ron said, as if that explained anything.
"I don't know why you men find it so hard to resist them," Hermione sniffed. "Their beauty is based on very old magic."
Marcus leaned closer to her, to be heard over the other men's loud lists of all the reasons it was impossible to resist a veela. "What these young bucks don't realize yet is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What is beautiful to all is of course a pleasure to look at, but true beauty ensnares a man to the point where he can't ever see a woman the same way again." He nodded his head toward Ron and Harry and said, "I'm sure your friends think you are the prettiest thing in any room they're in."
Hermione snorted, pushing her hair behind her ears. "I doubt it. Harry's girlfriend, you know, Ron's sister…she's unbelievably beautiful, and whenever she's around it would be useless to even try and get Harry's attention."
"What about our Mr. Weasley then?" Marcus asked, raising his eyebrows. "Does he appreciate the stunning young woman I see before me right now?"
She averted her eyes, finding the channel the conversation had taken very unsettling. She didn't want to think about how Ron saw her. She didn't think she wanted to know. And it wasn't because of something as superficial as beauty – she didn't think she was all that horrible looking, after all. She had just always had a very set idea of what Ron's idea of beauty was, and she was well aware that she didn't fit it. She had heard him go on about it enough in school and had seen the women he'd always singled out as objects of his attentions.
"What do you two have your heads together about?" Ron asked, interrupting her conversation with Marcus. His eyes searched her face, and she tried to erase the contemplative look from it before he saw it and asked her what was wrong.
"We were discussing beauty and how it's different for everyone," said Marcus, leaning back in his chair. "How the way a man feels about a woman transforms her before his very eyes."
Ron stared blankly at Marcus, his brows drawn together. "Why in the world are you talking about that?" he asked.
"Because my proof is waiting for me at home," Marcus answered, standing up and tossing some coins onto the table. He signaled a goodnight to everyone, and, winking at Hermione, he left.
It was at that point that the rest of the team decided it was time to change locations.
"Off to Moritzio's then," announced Evan, collecting everyone's coins and placing them neatly in the middle of the table. "After you, Hermione," he said, holding out her chair so she could get up.
Ron groaned and shoved Evan's hand aside. "The poor woman has been asked to answer ridiculous questions, talk about things that happened over seven years ago, and has endured all of our loud obnoxiousness. Don't add getting hit on to the list of travesties of the night."
Evan laughed. "I was just being polite, Weasley," he said, jabbing Ron in the ribs. "No need to fear."
Ron rolled his eyes at him and put his hand on Hermione's back to guide her out of the pub. Her skin tingled where his hand rested, and she found herself reveling in the fact that it stayed there long after they'd cleared the entrance to the pub.
As they made their way down the cobblestone street, she shot a look at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him laughing at something Harry had said. Her physical reaction to him this time came swiftly and with the precision of a well-aimed spell.
His transformation into this completely charming, easy-going man was making her see him through fresh eyes. Her attraction to him had never been in question; but she'd always been able to curb the answer. Now, however, she didn't trust herself to be near him and not show, in some small way, what he was doing to her.
She put a little physical distance between them, but with the size of the group they were traveling in, he didn't seem to notice. When they finally reached the pub, she was grateful to see that it, too, was crowded and noisy. Maybe all the commotion would be enough to quiet her own wayward thoughts.
No such luck.
The second they got to the table, the team started filing in, filling up an immense amount of space. Harry slid into the booth, followed by Ron, and when Hermione sat down she realized she was practically falling off the seat. She straightened her back and made herself as small as possible so she wouldn't have to sit right up against Ron's warm, solid side. It was immensely uncomfortable, but it beat having to ignore the pulsing in her veins every time he made the slightest move.
His arm sprawled out against the back of the bench behind her shoulders, and although the action was completely innocent and done only to give him a bit more space, her heart sped up at the intimacy it created. All she had to do was lean a bit to the right and it would appear to all concerned that they were indeed more than good friends.
"Hey, Ron, isn't that the little chippy who's always flaunting herself around you?" Devin, the tall, dark skinned Chaser announced, leaning across the table toward him. "Sophia, isn't it?"
Hermione's eyes snapped to where Devin was indicating before she could stop herself. There was in fact a small, pretty brunette eyeing their table closely from her seat with about four other women. When her eyes landed on Ron, a smile broke out on her lovely face and Hermione's heart practically stopped in her chest.
She tried to keep herself from looking over to Ron to see his reaction, but it was a power greater than herself. His eyes were scanning the pub, almost in disinterest, but when they landed on the woman in question, the corner of his mouth lifted.
"She doesn't flaunt herself around me," he said, signaling to the passing waitress. She stopped and began taking their orders as Ron continued. "She's just a fan of Quidditch, is all."
Devin started laughing, slapping the table in his mirth. "Yeah, right. That's why she always ignores the rest of us and is staring over at you right now like she wants to order you instead of another drink."
Hermione shifted on her seat, giving herself even more room between herself and Ron, and practically falling off the bench as a result. Ron's arm reached over to steady her, and he pulled her closer to him. "Watch yourself," he said, shooting her a grin. "You don't want these blokes thinking you can't handle your ale."
Hermione tried to smile at him, but her insides felt twisted and heavy. She just didn't know what to think any more, and she hated that she was ruining what little time they had together by feeling so confused and unsure of herself.
She forced a smile onto her face and relaxed against the bench. She would not do this. She would not spoil the chance to spend time with him just because she couldn't figure out what was going on in her stupid, over-analytical mind.
"Are you going to order something, or have you had enough for the night?" Ron asked, pointing up at the waitress who was standing patiently by the end of their table.
"Oh, um, I guess I'll have whatever everyone else is having," she said, giving the woman a half-hearted smile. The waitress nodded and left to fill their order, and when she cleared their table, Hermione's eyes found the small brunette staring over their way again, her eyes pinned on Ron.
"Ron, I think that woman wants to talk to you," she said, forcing the words out of her throat. "She keeps looking over here."
Ron looked over at the table where the woman sat, and Hermione saw the woman wave casually at him. He lifted his hand in greeting, but turned his attention to Hermione. "I'm fine where I am," he said, smiling down at her.
Hermione's pulse jumped so quickly she was almost winded, and before she let herself get lost in his damned blue eyes she looked away. She did, however, shift almost imperceptibly closer to him on the bench, happy that he wasn't going to forsake his time with them for someone else.
They spent the next hour or so laughing at stories that the men told about their own schooling, and Hermione felt herself relaxing into the evening. Ron's teammates really were good guys, and she was happy that he had them. She had Harry and Ginny, and although they were usually together, she knew that she couldn't ask for a better support system when things went wrong. It made her feel better knowing Ron could go to any one of these men for help and they'd be willing to give it in a heartbeat.
After a few more rounds of drinks, she could tell that the evening was beginning to wind down. Some of the men with families started leaving, and those that remained were beginning to look a little tired. How they were going to be able to get up in a few hours and play a full scrimmage was beyond her.
When Evan stifled a yawn a few minutes later, Hermione knew they'd be leaving. As captain of the team, they all obviously took their cues from him as to when enough was enough. The group began to disband, tossing money onto the table as the scratching of chairs punctuated the evening's end.
Just as Hermione was sliding out of the booth, she caught the woman Ron had waved at earlier heading over tentatively. When she reached the table, she heard a few of the men greet her by name, indicating that she had indeed been introduced to them on more than one occasion.
"Hello," she greeted them with a generous smile. Hermione could tell that she was a native of Italy from the strength of her accent, but she appeared to be in complete control of her English. "There is a game tomorrow, then?" she asked, proving she was fairly well-versed in the Cannons little rituals.
"A scrimmage," said Evan, plunking down his own money. "The game is Saturday."
"Oh," said the pretty brunette, her eyes wandering over to Ron. Most of the other men had already started for the door, and Hermione felt wildly uncomfortable. Should she stand here and wait for Ron, when it was obvious that this woman had come over to speak to him in particular? She glanced over at Harry, who, true to form, looked to be oblivious to the situation at hand.
"Hello, Ron," the woman said, now putting full force into her smile. "How have you been?"
"I've been fine, thanks, Sophia," he said, smiling back at her. "How are things going?"
"Very well, thank you," she said, casting a quick glance at Hermione, who could do little else but stand there, watching closely for any sign that the two of them might have something more than pleasantries going on between them. "Are these your friends? I haven't seen them around before."
"Yes, they are. Harry Potter," he said indicating Harry, who had just come to stand next to Hermione. Harry smiled at her and received a smile in return. Hermione noticed that the woman's eyes didn't automatically glance to his forehead, and she didn't seem fazed at all by the mention of Harry's name. "And Hermione Granger," Ron continued, indicating her next. "Guys, this is Sophia Matteo."
Hermione smiled at the woman, hoping that it didn't appear as flat as she felt it was. Sophia smiled her, and it was then that Hermione saw the gauging reaction in her eyes. Hermione knew what she was doing. She was sizing her up, trying to figure out whether she was strictly Ron's friend, or if she was something more.
Every instinct within her wanted to move closer to Ron and put her hand on his arm, or something equally as possessive-looking, but she restrained herself. Instead, she cleared her throat. "It's nice to meet you," she said.
"Likewise," Sophia said, bestowing another quick smile before turning her attention to Ron again. "Are there still tickets available for the game on Saturday?" she asked, peering up at him through her thick lashes.
"I think so," said Ron, laughing. "We're not that popular yet."
"But you will be," Sophia said in her Italian-accentuated English. "You are very good."
Hermione squirmed where she stood and looked over at Harry again. She didn't want to be standing here, listening to this woman casually flirting with Ron right in front of them. Harry had finally picked up on the mildly awkward situation and to his credit, he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
"Thanks," Ron said, smiling down at her. Then he looked up to find Harry and Hermione watching him carefully. He tossed some coins on the table and gave Sophia one last smile. "I'll see you Saturday, then."
Sophia looked momentarily thrown, as if she wasn't expecting to be brushed off so quickly, causing Hermione to wonder even more than before about the depths to which the two of them knew each other. Her chest began to tighten, and she did her best to keep her face neutral as Ron moved to stand next to them.
"Alright," Sophia said, recovering quickly. "Good luck, Ron," she said, holding his gaze for a long moment before turning to rejoin her table of friends.
Hermione looked over at Ron to see if she could get anything from the expression on his face, but he wasn't paying the situation any mind. He was checking his pocket to make sure he had his wand. When he'd made sure it was where he left it, he signaled that it was time to go.
As they made their way down the street towards the inn she had checked into after dinner, Hermione felt as if the question she so desperately wanted to ask was burning in her throat. She silently prayed that Harry would remain true to his promise to never use Legilemency on her, since she was pretty sure he would be shocked at the things she was thinking right now.
They reached the inn in a matter of minutes, and she was surprised to find herself wishing, for the first time in their long friendship, that Harry wasn't around right now. She was so surprised by the errant thought, in fact, that she was barely aware of saying goodnight to either of them. The next thing she knew, she was watching them walk away as they made their way back down the street in the direction of the stadium.
She watched them go until they'd disappeared from sight, and with a heavy sigh of disappointment in herself and confusion at the whole thing, she turned on her heel and prepared herself for a rather sleepless night of unanswerable questions and confessions she wasn't quite ready to face.
Even though she had never understood her friends' obsessions with Quidditch, it didn't mean that she didn't enjoy a good game of it from time to time. Besides, watching Ron as he effortlessly looped his goal posts made her happy. She knew he was doing what he'd always wanted to do, and he was obviously enjoying every minute he was up there.
The scrimmage was an interesting one to say the least, especially since the Cannons had roped Harry into playing after all. They had split themselves into two teams, and apparently they had enough players to make the two full squads…minus an extra seeker. So Hermione's interest was doubled when she saw Harry take to the sky and do what he'd always loved best.
She lost herself in watching her two best friends have as much fun as she'd ever seen them have, tossing off comments to each other if Harry passed close enough. It made her heart swell with emotion to such an extent that when the game was finally over, she was almost glad. Any more of it and she would have most likely burst into tears and made a complete fool of herself.
As they flew back down to the pitch, Harry tossed the snitch he'd caught to Evan who was loudly trying to recruit him as backup seeker for the team. Hermione couldn't hear Harry's response, but judging from the look on his face, he was sorely tempted.
"I hope he has enough sense to say no."
Hermione jumped at the comment and turned quickly to see Ginny grinning out over the pitch as she watched her boyfriend and her brother walking toward them.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed as Ginny took a seat next to her on the bleachers. "I thought you weren't getting in until tonight."
"The meeting was cut short," Ginny responded, nudging her in the side. "Besides, I thought you needed me more than a bunch of old, stuffy ambassadors. It couldn't have been easy being the only female among this bunch last night."
Hermione laughed. "It wasn't so bad, but I am glad you're here."
Ginny turned her full attention on her then. "So, how was it seeing him after all this time? Did you fall into his arms? Or did he fall into yours?"
She felt herself blushing despite the fact that she knew Ginny was just teasing her. She always had when it came to her brother. "Neither of us did any such thing," Hermione said primly, although she averted her eyes. It was Ginny's turn to laugh, but to her credit, she dropped it almost immediately. It was just as well, since Ron and Harry had both spotted her by this time, and had increased their speed to reach them.
"Hey, Gin," Harry called out, dropping his broom and climbing the bleachers quickly. Ginny stood up in time to be engulfed in his arms, and Hermione could only watch on in amazement as the two of them carried on like they hadn't seen each other in weeks as opposed to a day and a half.
She swung her gaze away from them quickly as they leaned into each other for a kiss, and her eyes met Ron's. He rolled his eyes at their behavior, making her laugh, but she couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have someone miss you so much that a day's separation could feel like an eternity.
"Ginny, you think you could spare a hug for your brother? You know, the one you haven't seen in months?" Ron said sarcastically, swatting at Harry's legs with his broom.
Ginny detangled herself from Harry's embrace and threw herself into her brother's arms. "I've missed you so much," she said, disregarding his comment and looking as if she would squeeze the life out of him. "It's been so boring around the house without you there."
Ron released her, grinning. "I've missed you too. How are mum and dad?"
Ginny's eyes began to shine so brightly that Hermione immediately knew that something was up. She searched her brain trying to figure out what it could possibly be since she'd just seen Ginny a few days ago.
"They're fine," Ginny said happily, then she shook her head. "No, that's actually an understatement. They're beside themselves."
At Ron's confused look, she grinned even wider. "They wanted me to let you know that you're going to be an uncle."
For a moment, the words hung in the air around them. Then, with almost painful slowness, Ron's eyes lowered to Ginny's stomach, then snapped immediately to Harry.
Hermione saw Harry's face drain of color as he, too, looked at Ginny. "But that's not…we always…" he stammered, his voice hoarse and croaking.
Ginny rolled her eyes in much the same fashion as Ron had earlier and then looked back and forth between Harry and Ron. "No, you great prats. Bill and Fleur are going to have a baby."
Hermione laughed, breaking the tension in the air as Harry's face went from deathly white to bright red in a matter of seconds and the dangerous look in Ron's eyes faded and was replaced with wonder at the thought of a new generation of Weasleys.
"Really?" he asked, a slow smile crossing his face.
Ginny nodded, grinning back at him. "The baby is due sometime in December, just in time for Christmas," she said excitedly.
Hermione watched Ron's face closely as he digested the fact that he was going to be an uncle. If she had thought that being here in Italy playing Quidditch made him the happiest she'd ever seen him, this new look far eclipsed that. It made her entire body feel electric with longings that she didn't even know she had, and it embarrassed her to know where her thoughts were headed. Babies… Ron…the look on his face when he would finally be holding one with the Weasley red hair, smiling down on him or her…
She shook herself free from the vision just in time to realize that they were starting to make their way down the bleachers. Ron looked back at her, drawing his brows together.
"You coming, Hermione?"
She nodded mutely and got up, walking beside him as they made their way down the steps of the stadium. She heard Ginny scolding Harry in front of them – "Honestly… why don't you just broadcast it next time?" – and tried her best to push the random, confusing thoughts she'd just had out of her mind. It became increasingly difficult to do so, however, since Ron's arm kept brushing against her as they walked.
It seemed like the longer she was around him this weekend, the more her mind betrayed her. She had always been able to compartmentalize the feelings she had for him; to keep them in their places and let them be. Somehow – here in Italy – it was harder for her to do that. And that thought scared her most of all.
Ron ran in to change just as he had the day before, and Ginny was introduced to the straggling players by Harry as they entered the dormitory one by one. More than one of the men made comments about how lucky Weasley was to be visited by two beautiful women, causing both Ginny and Hermione to blush as Harry groaned at their attempts to flatter them. Still, Hermione noticed that Harry stayed right up against Ginny's side the entire time, even reaching out to hold her hand between them as the last of the players made their way inside.
Dinner that night was just as wonderful as the night before; even more so now that Ginny was there to share the evening. They laughed at Ginny's reenactment of her father's face when Bill had told him he'd be a grandfather, and Hermione saw the wistful look cross Ron's face briefly as Ginny went on to explain that the twins were also over for dinner when Bill had told them. Of course it had occurred to her that he would miss home after all this time, but when she'd seen how happy he was here, she assumed that he was getting along just fine.
"I'm sure mum had kittens when she found out," Ron commented lightly, although Hermione could see that he was still looking a bit homesick.
"She sure did. Started crying as soon as they told her and from what I could tell, she hadn't stopped when I left to go to work this morning," Ginny said, reaching for another breadstick.
"Did Fred and George at least behave themselves?" Hermione piped in, wanting desperately to erase the slightly lost look in Ron's eyes.
"Of course not," Ginny said, laughing. "The second they heard, they started taking the mickey out of Bill, telling him that it was definitely going to be a girl, and that she'd run away with a handsome stranger the second she got the chance."
Harry laughed, as always impressed with the ingenuity and levity of the twins. "I'm sure your mother stopped crying long enough to thrash them a bit for that."
"Not really. She heard the word girl and started crying even harder," said Ginny, shaking her head. "And I really don't blame her. If there's one thing this family desperately needs, it's another female."
When they'd finished dinner, Ron suggested that they take another walk around the town to show Ginny all of his haunts since she hadn't been around last night. The weather was unbelievably beautiful and it was still light out, so they decided to walk along the canals and watch the boats lazily drift by.
Hermione couldn't help but watch Harry and Ginny together. She had, of course, seen them as a couple day in and day out since the war had ended, but it never failed to amaze her how completely in love they were with each other. And here, in this beautiful country, that love seemed almost magnified. Her heart began to ache with such a deep longing to have even a fraction of what they had that the pain almost winded her.
She had never considered herself lonely before. She loved her job and she was surrounded by family and friends. Her life was a worthy one, and she felt that she'd accomplished more at her age than most people were ever blessed to achieve.
Still, as she walked behind Harry and Ginny, she looked at their entwined hands with an envy so strong that she eventually had to look away. Her eyes came to rest on Ron, who was also watching the two of them with an unreadable look on his face.
The question that had plagued her sleep last night came rushing back to the forefront of her mind. Had he found someone here that he could be like that with? The woman from the pub…Sophia…had he walked with her by the canals hand in hand, looking out onto the water on a beautiful night like tonight? Did someone fill his days and add to the happiness she had seen clearly written across his face?
She didn't realize how long she'd been studying him until he turned his head and their eyes met. Her first instinct was to turn away quickly and try to pretend she hadn't been staring at him, but her eyes wouldn't obey her. Her second instinct was to smile at him and play it off like she was simply happy to be with all of her friends, but that was also out of her control. So she stared back at him, trying desperately to read the expression in his gaze.
His blue eyes held hers steadily, not judging or examining, or even wondering. They were calm and peaceful, staring into hers with no motive or expectation. She wasn't quite sure how long they stayed like that, but it felt like a small eternity. Neither so much as blinked until Ginny turned back to Ron to ask him what the small boats with the long oar in the back were.
"Gondolas," he answered idly as he slowly tore his gaze away from her. "They're gondolas. It's how the Italian people get around the city."
Hermione felt her breath finally return to her as they continued walking, though this time she kept her eyes trained ahead of her. It was the strangest feeling, but she felt as if she had been marked in some way. Almost as if things that had come before were merely memories, and what was to come was terrifying and strange.
There had been a time before the war, what seemed like lifetimes ago, when she had been young and foolish enough to believe that she fancied her best friend. Things had gone unresolved between them for years, and then in their way they'd been resolved and that had been that. Still, in the darkness when she was alone, she would wonder if their chance really had passed them by. It was one of those questions she'd had no clear answer to, no way of knowing if there was even still the slightest hope of something more.
In this one quiet, private moment, in this foreign land where he'd carved a happy life for himself, she finally felt as if she'd answered that question for herself.
She was fairly certain that she was falling in love with Ron.
All over again.
Next chapter to come very soon. No more of this months off thing. The next one should be up in about a week, depending on how much time I have. As always, my faithful readers, thank you for the time and the interest. I hope I haven't disappointed.