Ron awoke to the sensation of a brick being pushed into his skull. His mouth felt like he'd spent most of the night sucking on sweaty socks, and he really needed to piss. His bladder won the day and he got out of bed, but instantly sat back down. The room was spinning. He opened one eye and noticed Hermione's handwriting. 'Drink me' was written in her tidy script on a piece of parchment leaning against a small bottle. Ron opened the bottle and drank down it's minty contents. The relief was instantaneous. He loved that witch. He got to his feet, pulled on his tatty, orange robe, and headed down to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, he took a long, hot shower, had a good wank, thinking about Hermione, brushed his teeth, shaved and emerged from the bathroom feeling like a new man. As he walked downstairs though, the events of last night began to come back to him, so that by the time he walked into the kitchen, he felt like a complete git.

Harry, Ginny, George, Charlie, and Hermione were all sitting at the table eating breakfast. There was a place set for him next to Hermione, who was reading the paper. He sat down. Harry handed him a platter of eggs and bacon.

"I'm really sorry about getting so drunk last night," Ron said, as he put food on his plate.

Hermione lowered the paper. "That's alright. We've all been there."

All eyes turned to her with surprised expressions.

Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. "Perhaps not exactly there. I've never had to bury an ex-boyfriend, but I think we can all understand the impulse to get drunk under those circumstances." She raised the paper again and resumed reading.

"Right," Harry said.

"Sure," Ginny agreed.

"I've been a lot drunker for a lot less," Charlie said.

"Me too," George said.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" his mother screeched from the door, where she stood with a basket of eggs.

Ron cringed.

"You were entirely too drunk last night. Stumbling around and causing a fuss. You upset your father terribly."

"I'm sorry, Mum," Ron said, feeling his face go hot. "I'll apologize to Dad when he gets home."

His mother huffed. "See that you do." Her face softened. "I'm sorry about your friend though."

Ron nodded. "Me too. She was a great girl. Not the right one for me," he hastened to add with a glance at Hermione, but she was still hidden behind the paper, "but a great girl, nonetheless."

"I'm sure she was," his mother said, setting the basket of eggs on the counter. "I'm off to the market. I'll be back shortly." Charlie and George, after breakfast, could you boys muck out the barn.

"Sure Mum," Charlie said. His mother drew her wand and Disapparated.

A silence fell over the table as they finished their breakfast. George thrummed his fingers on the table. "So, Granger, when was the last time you were drunk?"

"A couple of years ago," she said from behind the newspaper.

"Oh yeah?" George said. "And why was that?"

Ron tried to feign indifference, but he was glad George was asking these questions because he really wanted to know the answers.

"No good reason," Hermione said, still hidden behind the Daily Prophet. "Just partying on the beach with friends."

"Really?" George said. "Which friends?"

"Know a lot of Muggles, do you, George?" Hermione asked.

"Not really," George said.

"Then I doubt you'd know them," she folded the paper and set it on the table. "I'm going to go get in the shower. We've got a funeral soon."

"Yeah," Harry said, rising. "I better get changed."

"Me too," Ginny said.

Ron grabbed another piece of bacon and followed them upstairs. After Ginny peeled off into her room, Ron followed Harry into Bill's old bedroom. "Can you believe that?" Ron said, as Harry got his funeral robes out of the closet.

"What?" Harry said, as he pulled off his pajama top.

"Not only did she date Muggles on hols, she got drunk with them!" Ron said.

"Yeah, well, she said it was a party," Harry said, dropping his pajama bottoms and pulling on his funeral robes.

"Yes, but we're talking about Hermione here," Ron said, exasperated that Harry didn't seem to recognize the significance of any of this.

Harry sighed. "What's your point?"

"My point," Ron sputtered. "My point is that if she dated Muggles and got drunk with Muggles, what the hell else has she done with Muggles?"

Harry frowned at him. "She's Muggleborn, so probably loads of things, but if you're talking about what I think you're talking about, then how is that any of your business?"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Because…"

"Because what?" Harry said. "As I recall, you two weren't dating two years ago. Did I miss something?"

"No, but…" Ron couldn't think how to say how he felt.

"But what?" Harry said, clearly irritated.

"But…she's Hermione," Ron said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said.

"Dunno, she just…"

"She's allowed to have a life that doesn't include us. In fact, she has had one. I'm not sure why you don't get that."

"I do get it," Ron said indignantly.

"Do you?" Harry said. "Because it seems like you don't. You should go get dressed."

Ron took the dismissal without argument. He didn't have anything left to say anyway. He went upstairs and cast a cleaning charm on his funeral robes, which were looking rough after yesterday's escapades. He got dressed and looked at the clock on his nightstand. They didn't have to leave for twenty minutes, so he locked his bedroom door, and pushed his bed over to reveal the loose floorboard, under which, he kept her letters. He wasn't sure why he'd kept them hidden all these years. They didn't have anything in them that would be inappropriate for someone else to read, but they were his, and he didn't want them falling into the hands of his siblings. There were six bundles of letters tied together with string and arranged by year. He pulled out the bundle of letters from the summer after fifth year when they'd both gone home scarred from the battle at the Department of Mysteries. It was the smallest stack of letters since they'd only been apart that summer for twelve days. Twelve days, he realized with relief, wasn't enough time to really get a serious relationship going.

He opened the first brief letter and skimmed its contents. Mostly, she'd asked after his injuries, but then there it was in the last paragraph. My parents are taking me to a beach resort because Madam Pomphrey told them the sun would help shrink the scar. He put the letter back in its envelope and reached for the next one. In this one, she talked about a dessert she'd had. She'd thought it was too rich, with four types of chocolate, but she was sure he'd think it was delicious. Then she asked how he was feeling and said she was feeling much better. Again, it wasn't until the very last paragraph, that she said there were a lot of kids her age at the resort, which was kind of fun. Kind of fun. That's all she'd said. There were no long descriptions of parties on the beach or dates with Muggles. He skimmed the two other letters she'd sent that summer before she'd come to stay with them and they were the same. She didn't talk about her Muggle life. He didn't know about it, because she didn't talk about it. On the other hand, he was fairly certain, he'd never followed up on any of the details she did give. He'd never asked what beach they went to. He'd never asked about those kids her age, never asked what they were like, or what they all did together. She'd opened the door a bit for him, but he'd never walked through, and now it was too late. The only time they'd ever really discussed her life among Muggles had been in the woods on the Horcrux hunt and she'd dismissed it as unimportant, because without her parents, that part of her life was over now. He sighed and felt like he'd failed her. He'd failed her two years ago and he kept failing her.

"Ron!" Harry shouted from downstairs. "We need to go!"

He put the letter's away and moved the floor board and bed back into place before hurrying downstairs.

xXx

The first three funerals went by in a blur. Ron didn't know any of the people being buried and so it felt like he was an automaton performing a rote set of condolences. The last funeral of the day was different and was for a centaur named Como. He was from the Forbidden Forest herd, so every non-centaur attending the funeral Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and then Hagrid escorted them to the edge of the forest. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and one representative from the Ministry of Magic were the only non-centaurs in attendance except Hagrid. Hagrid apparently knew Como quite well and wept openly into the largest handkerchief Ron had ever seen. As they passed the castle, Ron was shocked at the state of it. None of them had seen it since the night of the battle. He couldn't imagine how they were going to rebuild it in time for school to reopen in the fall. Harry looked stricken by the state of the castle. Ron noticed Ginny took his hand and whispered something to him. Ron glanced down at Hermione who seemed very sad as her eyes took in the ruins. He considered his options and decided to slip his arm around her and was relieved when she leaned into him as they walked to the edge of the forest. He couldn't help noticing that she didn't feel as skeletal beneath his hand as she had the last time he'd had his arm around her, and that eased some of his sadness over the state of the school.

xXx

The ceremony was completely different from any they had attended thus far. Firenze spoke the eulogy and then lit a massive funeral bier, at the center of which, was presumably Como, but he wasn't visible. The flame was magically enhanced and contained so that in twenty minutes the entire thing was ash and the herd rose as one and thundered into the forest.

Hagrid wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "He was such a good fella," he said sadly. "Would you lot like to stay for a spot of tea?" he asked the small group. The representative from the Ministry thanked him but declined and said he could make his own way back to the gates. The other four followed Hagrid to his hut. Fang came and rested his now graying muzzle in Harry's lap as they all took a seat around the table while Hagrid put a plate of rock cakes out and then proceeded to make tea.

Ginny reached for a rock cake, but the minute Hagrid's back was turned, Harry grabbed her hand and shook his head. She put the cake back.

"The castle still seems in terrible shape," Hermione commented.

"I know," Hagrid said, as he brought a large teapot to the table and joined them. "But they're working every day on the underlying magic of the structure. Nothing on top can be rebuilt until all that foundation work is finished."

"How long is that going to take?" Harry asked.

"Weeks, but once it's done, Professor McGonagall will likely ask for volunteers to help with the rebuilding."

"I'd like to do that," Harry said and the others agreed that they would too.

"I reckon it'll take everyone," Hagrid said.

They spent another hour catching up. Hagrid never asked where they'd been last year and they never offered to tell him, choosing instead to talk about mutual friends and changes in the Ministry.

xXx

They all had somewhat lighter hearts upon returning to the Burrow late that afternoon. Seeing Hagrid had been therapeutic. Harry and Ginny decided to take a walk through the orchard before dinner. Hermione looked toward Ron somewhat hopefully, but he announced that he was going to feed the animals and didn't invite her along.

She sighed and went to get a book to read. It was a nice day, so she walked down to the pond to read in the gazebo, but found herself too distracted to get anything out of it. She set down the book and stood at the gazebo railing and stared out at the pond. A pair of Mallard ducks were feeding. Seeing the state of Hogwarts earlier had been disheartening. She thought again of not finishing her education. Part of her was glad she'd never have to explain to her parents that she didn't graduate. They would be so appalled. Looking back, she realized that the last time she'd spent a significant amount of time at home was the summer after fourth year. After that, it was a couple of weeks at Christmas and a couple of weeks in the summer and then she was off to the Burrow to live in the Magical world where she belonged. At the time, she'd been so relieved to be back among her own kind that she didn't consider how her parents must have felt. She deeply regretted not spending more time with them when she'd had the chance, but there was nothing to be done about that now. All that was left was the guilt.

There were twelve funerals remaining and then she'd need to start looking for a job. She'd been perusing the want ads in the back of the Daily Prophet for the last week, but hadn't seen much that looked interesting. She didn't want to learn to drive the Knight Bus or become an apprentice baker at Madam Puddifoot's. Unfortunately, all the jobs that appealed to her required N.E.W.T.s. She knew she could get a job that would keep her fed and clothed, but she wanted more than that. Hogwarts aged out at eighteen though, and she would likely be nineteen before the castle was repaired, not that she could imagine going back and living in the dorms again anyway. She felt stuck, unable to go backward but unable to go forward either.

"Oi," Ron said as he came down the path to the pond carrying a fishing pole. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Hermione said.

He smiled at her. "That doesn't sound like you."

She tried to smile back, but didn't quite manage it.

"What's the matter?" he said, setting his fishing pole on the ground.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

He stepped into the gazebo. "Seriously? Who are you talking to?"

She sighed. "Right." She blew out a slow breath. "I've been looking at jobs in the paper and there just isn't anything—"

"Very interesting?" Ron said.

"No."

He shrugged. "I know, but I've been thinking, maybe I should just start applying for whatever I'm qualified for and then worry about what I really want to do later. I mean, right now, what I mostly want is to get out of here and I need money for a flat."

"Oh," she said. "A flat, right."

"Yeah, because, you know…there's no privacy here."

She smiled wryly. "Yes. I've noticed that."

"I need to talk to Harry though, see what he's thinking."

"Right," Hermione said, feeling her heart sink. Ron and Harry were probably going to go off and live in a flat together and she would be left to do what? Rattle around alone in her parents' old place. That sounded so grim.

"I just need gold," Ron said. "Can't do anything without it."

She shook her head. "We really need our Gringott's problem to be resolved. Harry and I have money in accounts that are still frozen."

"Well," Ron said sourly. "Lucky me then without a Knut to my name."

She sighed. She hadn't meant it like that. "All I'm saying is, for the time being, we're all kind of in the same boat."

"Are you out of Muggle money?" Ron asked.

"No, but what I have in cash is it. It's not like I can go to my parents for a bailout. I've got to be frugal with what I've got, and if I want to exchange any for Galleons, I have to have an intermediary do it for me. It's so frustrating."

"I can understand that," Ron said, "but at least you have money to be frustrated about."

"I suppose," she said.

"Besides," Ron said cheerily, "if I could get some money in my pockets, we could try dating."

Her eyes widened. "Dating?"

"Might be fun." He leaned against the railing. "I've never even taken you out to dinner."

She stared at him blankly. They'd lived together for most of the last nine months. She couldn't imagine what he expected to learn about her on a date that he didn't already know.

"I mean," Ron continued. "With a little gold in my pocket, I could show you a proper time, couldn't I? Do things right."

"Are you—?" Hermione started to ask if he was seriously asking her to start over at the beginning. How would that even work, were they just meant to play pretend?

"Oi, Ron," Charlie called from the path. "Mum's decided to make two pies so she sent me to help."

"Great," Ron said, smiling apologetically at Hermione. "Definitely need my own flat," he muttered.

"Yes." She was still stunned by what he'd said. "I think I'll go back up to the house."