QLFC S3 Round 11. I'm actually so mad because the title of this particular story was meant to be 'And in the end, Everything comes a Full Circle' but it wouldn't fit so here we are.

Prompt: Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day?

The chilly spring morning is just beginning to give way to a brighter afternoon, chasing away the last vestiges of orange and pink lingering in the sky. Right before his eyes, the city awakens. Cars in silver and red and yellow pass by him, slowly at first, and then all at once. Pedestrians hurry through the narrow streets of London, paying no mind to who or what surrounds them.

At the very fringe of the bustling city, Ron huddles quietly in his seat outside a cozy cafe. Every once in a while, the door merrily jingles open, sending a warm brush of air across his numb, reddened cheeks. He absently scans the street, eyes jumping from object to object without seeing a single thing.

The person he's waiting for arrives in a flourish of activity. Hermione all but tumbles into the seat across from him, her bag making a loud clanking noise as it hits the delicate glass of the table. She gives him a harried smile, trying to smooth down her hair and stuff her coat into her bag at the same time. It doesn't work as well as she hopes.

Ron stifles a laugh and smiles warmly at her.

"Hello 'Mione," he says. "Busy start to the day?"

She takes in a large breath through her mouth. She holds it there for a second, two, three, before releasing it all in a long exhale. Ron waits. When she looks up again, the frantic energy dancing through her limbs has quieted.

"You have no idea," she says, shaking her head in amusement. "Shall we head inside?"

Hunched against the lingering cold, they escape into the heated cafe. Ron's gaze sweeps carefully around the room before heading over to a secluded nook in the furthest corner. Hermione has gone to order drinks for the two of them. Or, three, depending.

She finds Ron and drops into her seat with a, "Drinks will be here in a second."

Ron hums noncommittally, and then asks the question they're both thinking. "D'you think Harry will come?"

Hermione cradles her face and her hands and blinks slowly. She shrugs a shoulder. "You know how he is now. Can't stay still. I owled and texted him, so I'm pretty sure the message came through, but we'll see."

"Everyone thought after the war that he'd be the one to stay and become an Auror and raise a family," Ron says with a rueful smile. "They never would've imagined that he'd just off and travel the world alone. Funny how things turn out sometimes."

Hermione smiled at that. "And after all your talk of travelling, you ended up being the one to stay here in London."

Ron chuckles quietly like that. "Things have definitely changed."

A server comes around to their table and sets down a cuppa each in front of them. Hermione thanks him quietly, then stirs one, two, three cubes of sugar inside. Ron peers curiously at her from across the table.

"You're such a bad influence," she grumbles. "This is all your fault, you know."

"I put two sugars in my tea, not three," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Your fault," she repeats stubbornly.

His mouth opens to respond, but there's movement in the corner of his eyes and he watches as the door opens and:

"Harry," he says instead. Hermione turns just as a familiar stranger in green steps inside and heads straight for their table.

They move as one, to make room for him because it seems no matter how far apart they are, no matter how long it's been, they're still completely in tune with each other.

"Hullo," Harry says, his cheeks and eyes bright and glistening under the glowing light bulbs. He slides in next to Ron and across from Hermione and doesn't take off his dirtied backpack.

Hermione offers him her cup, and he takes a small sip before making a face.

"Did you always drink your tea this sweet?" he asks. "It's Ron's fault isn't it?"

Hermione sends him a smug glance. He throws up his hands in the air.

"Why does everyone always gang up on me?" he asks.

"Well, it is your fault most of the time," Harry says, grinning at him.

Ron purses his lips. "Is not. If you think back, most of our bad ideas were Hermione's."

"Like what?" Hermione challenges.

"Setting Snape on fire? Brewing an illegal potions in the girl's bathroom? Are any of these ringing a bell?"

Hermione turns a bit red as Harry chokes back a laugh. She coughs, and straightens her back.

"I'll have you know," she says primly, "that those were for the greater good."

"Right," says Harry.

"Right," says Ron.

She huffs at them, a slight frown settling across her face. It doesn't last though — quick as it came, it flits away until a small content smile is all that can be seen. She stirs her tea again.

Harry rises to grab his own cup of tea, and when he comes back, he breaks the comforting silence.

"Do you remember," he starts, stops. Ron and Hermione lean close.

"Do you remember those Sundays we had free?" Harry says haltingly, as if afraid they wouldn't.

But Hermione's eyes light up and Ron beams softly and oh, of course they remember.

"In the afternoon," Ron adds. "And 'Mione would fight so hard, saying—"

"—she had homework! From next week's classes!" Harry finishes Ron's sentence, the edges of his lips curling up into a smile.

"You both ended up dragging me out anyway," Hermione sighs out, but she's still smiling and beneath the table their legs are entwined together until there's no end and beginning to them.

They all smile warmly at each other. Ron thinks back— back to carefree days spend on the banks of the Black Lake. Back to their sun-warmed skin and arms hooked together. Back to lying sprawled on the scratchy grass with Harry in the middle the him and Hermione on either side of him. By the looks in their eyes, he knows they're remembering too.

Hermione moves to catch their hands and she grins at them. "My boys," she says quietly, the pride in her voice making his breath hitch. Ron gently squeezes back, sees Harry do the same.

The three of them remain in their corner of the cafe as the light outside brightens to a peak, and then begins its descent to darkness. From the windows, flickering shadows are cast on their animated faces. There one moment, gone the next.

Outside, the sun dies in brilliant shades of yellow and orange. Its last burst of colour before it goes pitch black. Harry stands and loosens his limbs from theirs.

"I have to go," he says. There's an apology in the furrow of his brow.

Ron stands next, and then Hermione.

"We know," he says.

"Have a safe trip," Hermione says.

At the door, words still linger unspoken between them. Harry smiles a little before he turns around and blends into the commuter crowd. Ron and Hermione watch his back until he's gone.

"Do you think he'll come back soon?" Hermione asks.

She's not asking about Harry's next visit, he knows.

"He'll come when he's ready," Ron says.

The two of them retreat back inside, with no more glances thrown behind them.