Getting There

The next day at the Ministry, Hermione's schedule started with the senior Unspeakables meeting, which they had first thing every Monday morning to discuss upcoming projects, ongoing projects, and issues that might arise from either, along with any departmental problems that might be occurring.

When they had finished with the regular agenda, Thomas asked, "Does anyone have any other issues?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes," Thomas said.

"It's more of favor, actually," she said. The eyes of the five other Unspeakables turned to her.

"As you know, my son is the only remaining candidate in the trials and it looks very much like he'll go all the way."

"You know we can't confirm that," Ellis said.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "That's not the favor. It's to do with the lounge."

"The lounge?" Ellis said, arching an eyebrow. "What of it?"

"Well, assuming he passes his test today, he gets privileges to the lounge."

"What of it?" Seacole, the senior Unspeakable in the Love Division, asked.

"I was wondering if we might replace my picture on the wall of shame with a different photo."

"You can't choose your embarrassment girl," Seacole said.

Hermione bristled. "I'm not a girl. And I'm not asking to choose the replacement. I'm only asking that it be replaced."

"You are girl," Seacole huffed. "You're not even forty yet. You're practically still a child."

"Why?" Ellis said, cutting off Seacole, since he was prone to ranting at his advanced age.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, as you may recall, it's rather different from the other photos on the wall, and I'd rather my son not see it."

The other Unspeakables looked at each other.

"I mean," Hermione continued. "I understand the purpose of the wall. It's to keep us humble by showing us at our worst for everyone to see. I appreciate that. The thing is, that photo doesn't show me at my worst. Not even close and if, for example, I was with Ron instead of Viktor, it wouldn't bother me at all."

The other Unspeakables exchanged another round of looks.

Thomas cleared his throat. "It was challenging to come up with that one."

"What are you talking about? Hundreds of pictures of me have been taken over the years. Surely, there must be something else."

"Problem is, you always expect to have your photo taken," Ellis said.

"What?" Hermione said.

"You go out in public with the understanding that at any moment your photo could be snapped," Ellis explained. "None of the rest of us have that experience. Most of the other photos on the wall were taken of Unspeakables by Unspeakables."

"Either that, or they came from family or friends."

"Then why didn't—?"

"We tried," Thomas said. "You have extremely loyal friends. Not a single one came forward with a suitable photo, so we were left with what appeared in the papers."

"There have been loads of—" Hermione started to argue.

"Not really," Thomas said. "You always look, how to describe it?"

"Fiercely defiant," Ellis suggested.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She had adopted that air early on as a form of self-defense against the publicity. "No one else has one of their children working here."

"We can't take it down. Everyone has a photo on the wall of shame, even Seacole," Ellis said. They all looked at the old man who sat at the end of table in his pajamas. He had dozed off and was softly snoring.

"Alright," Hermione said. "What if I were to bring you something more suitable? Would you replace it?"

The others exchanged looks again.

"Yes," Thomas said.

"If it's suitable," Ellis said.

"Fine," Hermione said.

"Meeting adjourned then," Thomas said and they all rose, except Seacole, who they left to finish his nap.

Hermione left the meeting and went into the lounge. She stood looking at the wall of shame with her hands on her hips trying to think how to come up with a suitable picture. The photos varied from Unspeakable to Unspeakable, but most of them were of drink-fueled foolishness. In Thomas' he was passed out on the sidewalk next to a pile of his own sick. Ellis' was in black and white from ninety years ago. She was dancing on a coffee table in her bra and knickers. Seacole's was also in black and white. He was vomiting over the side of a luxury liner. The rest were mostly like that. The ones that didn't feature drunken shenanigans were of Unspeakables who'd Spliffed and fainted somewhere. The two outliers were her photo and Johnson's from the Time Division. In his photo, he was being punched in the face by someone he'd gotten shirty with in a pub. She looked at the photo of her and Viktor in the Mediterranean. He was chest deep in the water. She was in his arms and based on their movements it was clear they were having sex. It was pretty good sex as she recalled. The photo was taken in profile from the shore, and while it was clear what they were doing, nothing was visible.

She shook her head. Still, she'd rather Art not see it. She felt like he knew entirely too much as it was. She resolved to see Harry at lunch.

xXx

Harry was grading papers in his office at Hogwarts when Hermione stepped out of the fireplace. He looked up. Not many people knew the Floo address to this office and even fewer were allowed to pass through the wards that protected it, so it was rather surprising to see someone step in. "Hermione?" he said, as she dusted herself off.

"Hello Harry. Sorry to interrupt."

Harry set down his quill and came out from behind his desk. "What brings you all the way up here in the middle of the day?"

"I need a friend," she said.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Tea?"

"Please."

He flicked his wand at a tea pot on the other side of the room and then sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Hermione took the other. "What's happened?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to tell you something in confidence and then I need to rant a bit because I work in the barmiest place in the universe," she said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Alright."

"Art is trying for Unspeakable," she said.

Harry's mouth dropped open and he sat back against the chair. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was," she said.

"Ron must be—"

"He's not happy," Hermione said. "I'm not either, to be honest, but Art's doing really well and it looks very much like he's going to make it."

"Well," Harry said, getting up to pour the tea. "He's always been exceptionally bright."

"I know," Hermione said, taking the cup he handed her. "I just wish he'd go be bright at something else. Something safer. Something less…less…"

"Barmy?" Harry guessed, resuming his seat.

"Yes," she said. "And now he's going to have lounge privileges and I need an embarrassing photo and I'm really hoping you have one."

"An embarrassing photo?" Harry said, confused. "Why?"

Hermione sighed and took a sip of tea. "Because of the wall of shame."

"There's a wall of shame in the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione let out an even deeper sigh. "Yes. Apparently, two hundred years ago, Alistair Dibble decided that the Unspeakables were an arrogant lot and that the best way to deal with those egos was to put up a photo of each Unspeakable doing something embarrassing so that they would remember they could be as stupid as everyone else."

Harry pondered that for a moment. "Does it work?"

"Of course not, we're all still arrogant egotists, who think our projects are the most important. Although, honestly, the Space Division is the only one with practical applications."

"I assume that's where you work," Harry said dryly.

"Of course. I specialize in Apparition. I'm not likely to be in the Love Division, now am I?"

Harry snorted. "Well, you also spent an entire year with a Time-Turner, so I thought—"

"Well, yes, Time Division has some useful artifacts, to be sure, but—" she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The point is, there's a photo of me on the wall of shame and I'd rather Art not see it."

Harry arched an eyebrow at her and said anxiously. "A photo of what?"

She looked at him and then her eyes went wide. "Not that! Good grief, those were all burned. No. It's just Viktor and I having sex in the Mediterranean."

Harry's mouth dropped open.

Hermione sighed. "You can't see really anything. We're in fairly deep water. If it were a Muggle picture, we might just being hugging, but it's magical and the movement makes it fairly obvious what we're actually doing."

"Oh," he said quietly.

"Anyway, everyone else's photos are mostly just drunk pics. I got the others to agree to let me change it, but it has to be embarrassing. Please tell me that somewhere you have a photo of me doing something humiliating that won't make my son want to poke out his eyes."

Harry shook his head. "I can't think of anything like that. I mean, we don't really take a lot of photos among us. So many people take our pictures, well, we never really bother, do we?"

Hermione let out another deep sigh. "No. Bloody hell, Harry."

They both sat thinking for a time while they drank their tea.

"Hang on," Harry said. "How about a memory?"

"I need a photo?"

"Can't you take one in a Pensieve?" Harry asked.

She hadn't considered that. "I guess that's theoretically possible. Have you ever done it?"

"No, but since when has that ever stopped us?"

She chuckled. "Never."

Harry stood and began rummaging through cabinets. "I know I've got a camera in here somewhere." A few minutes later, he said, "Aha!" and pulled out a magical camera.

"How should we do this?" Hermione asked.

"You Impervious the camera so it can handle being in the Pensieve and I'll pull the memory and put it in." He touched his wand to his temple and pulled out a long silvery thread.

Hermione cast Impervious on the camera and handed it to him as he dipped the tip of his wand and the silvery thread into the liquid surface of the Pensieve. He went to put his face in but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Wait, which memory?" He opened his mouth to say but Hermione said, "No. Don't tell me. Just take the picture."

"Aren't you going to look?" Harry asked when she didn't come over to the Pensieve.

"I don't think so. It's better if you just snap the photo. I shouldn't have too much control over this. It's not fair."

Harry held the camera to his face and stuck his head into the Pensieve. A moment later he emerged, drew his wand, and pulled the memory out. Then he surprised Hermione by pulling out another memory and dropping it into the liquid surface. Then he emerged and put the second memory away. He held out the camera to her. "Do you know the development spells for film? Or do you want me to do it?" Harry asked.

"If you know them, go ahead. I'd have to look them up," Hermione said.

"Alright," Harry said. He held his wand over the camera, cast a darkening spell, and then removed the film. "What size do you want the pictures to be?"

"They're all eleven by fourteen," Hermione said. "Because apparently eight by ten isn't embarrassing enough."

Harry chuckled and found some parchment big enough to put the photos on and then cast the spell to cut it to the right length. "There you go," he said. "All set." He cast another spell and the film flew into the air, subdivided, and then dropped onto the parchment creating two perfect photos.

Hermione was surprised to be looking at two pictures taken just eight months ago. In the first she was face down on a table in the pub down the street from her home. There was a small puddle of drool next to her mouth and a mostly empty bottle of Jameson's in front of her. The second photo was taken on the street that ran in front of her house. She was vomiting on some shrubbery. Hermione stepped back from the photos. "I…I…"

"What?" Harry asked. "Won't one of these do?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I just didn't realize they'd be so recent."

"Oh, well, I could go back further. How far—"

"No, it's fine. These are…it's just hard to see…I mean, I know I have a problem…"

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, concern etched across his features.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, pulling herself together. She put the two photos in her bag. "Thank you. This should make them happy."

"Hermione," Harry said. She looked at him and he hugged her. "Take it easy, alright?"

She smiled and squeezed his arm. "I'm fine. Thanks for your help."

He nodded and she stepped back into the fireplace. A few moments later, she stepped out of one of the fireplaces in the Ministry's main hall. She took the elevator down to the Department of Mysteries and went right to Thomas' office in the Time Division. His door was open so she stuck her head in. "Do you have a moment?"

"Come in," he said.

She closed the door behind her, took the two photos out of her bag, and set them on his desk. "Will one of these do?"

Thomas looked at the two photos. "Sit down," he said kindly.

Hermione really didn't want to discuss this anymore, but he was the director. She sat.

"These look recent," he said.

"They're from earlier this year," she replied without meeting his eyes.

"I didn't realize you'd…slipped so recently," Thomas said without judgement.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It was a brief. I was still on injury leave."

"Ahh," Thomas said. "Who took the pictures?"

"No one," Hermione said. "They're photographed memories. I just got them from Harry."

Thomas' eyes widened. "You just popped out at lunch and got Harry Potter to take photos of his memories for you?"

"Yes," Hermione said flatly.

"My goodness, what a life you lead," Thomas said.

"It is what it is," Hermione said. "So, will one of those do?"

Thomas looked down at the photos again. "Are you sure you want to switch them? I imagine it will be much harder for you to look at one of these than it is to look at what's already there. You've never seemed particularly bothered by that photo until today."

Hermione frowned at him. "Why would I be? It's not like you can really see anything, although it's obvious what we're doing. Besides, we were on a private beach. It's not like we were in Black Pool in the middle of a crowd. I'm not some slapper. Viktor and I had been together for over a year then. We were living together. If you think I'm embarrassed at having sex with my fit boyfriend when I was in my twenties, think again. How many other Unspeakables have had a professional Quidditch player? None of you. That's how many." She glowered at him.

He couldn't have looked more sympathetic. "Then why change it to something that clearly upsets you far more?"

She sighed. "Because it's not about what's easiest for me to look at. It's about what's easiest for Art."

Thomas surprised her by asking, "Does Art know you have a drinking problem?"

"I think it's safe to say he does," she said quietly.

"And does he know that you used to be involved with Viktor Krum?" Thomas asked.

"Of course," Hermione said. "What's your point? Most of the pictures on that wall are of drunken stupidity. Another one won't matter."

"Neither of these pictures is of drunken stupidity," he said quietly. "They're just pictures of a drunk."

She winced as though he'd struck her.

"Personally," he continued. "I hate the wall of shame. It's stupid and pointless and does nothing to curb anyone's ego. A few more retirements come around and I'll do away with it entirely."

"Right, well, that won't really address the matter at hand," Hermione said.

"True," Thomas said. "Leave it with me then." He set aside the photos and pulled over a piece of parchment he'd been working on when she came in.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. She settled on "Good day" and left for her own office.

xXx

She went home early. Anxiety about the photo coiled in her stomach all day punctuated by the humiliation of Thomas calling her a drunk. The paradox of having anxiety about her drinking was that it made her really want a drink. The irony was not lost on her. By the time Ron came home, she was pacing the living room.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked as he watched her move anxiously around the room.

"I'm not drinking," she said.

"Okay," he said. "I can see that. So, what are you—?"

"That's it," Hermione snapped at him. "That's what I'm doing."

Ron stood very still in the center of the room. "What happened today?"

She turned around so quickly he thought she was going to snap at him again, but instead her face crumpled and she started to cry. The entire story came out in a weepy rush.

Ron put his arms around her. "That sounds like a rotten day."

"Thomas called me a drunk. How does he even know that? I never drank at work. Never, not once."

"But he was your partner for ages, luv," Ron said gently. "He's one of the few Unspeakables we actually socialize with. I'm sure he's picked up on things over the years. He's an astute guy. He's like you in that he's fiercely intellectual but grounded at the same time. He notices people. You said yourself that's why he was a good choice for director."

"I hate this," she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I feel like I've finally got a handle on the drinking, on what happened when we were apart, and then this happens. Which photo do you think Thomas will choose?"

Ron shrugged. "It doesn't matter which one he picks. Art's a big boy. He can handle it."

Hermione shook her head. "He shouldn't have to."

"It's the price of notoriety, luv. He deals with our lives a lot more than he would have if we'd been different people, but we're us. Nothing to do be done about that now."

"I feel sick," Hermione said, sitting on the sofa.

Ron sat next to her. "You'll be okay. No matter how this plays out, it's just a picture on a wall. It might be shocking the first few times he sees it, but then it'll fade into the background. It's why walls like that don't work. It's just background noise after a while."

"True," she said. "I just have to wait it out."

"Right," he said and kissed the top of her head.

xXx

The next morning, Hermione dropped her bag in her office and then walked into the lounge to get a cup of tea like she did every morning. There was no sense putting it off. Thomas had told her to leave the photographs with him and she was sure he would have made a decision already. He wasn't one to put off that sort of thing. As she walked into the lounge three Unspeakables from the Death Division were having tea and arguing about their latest project in the corner. She was somewhat shocked to see Art standing in front of the wall of shame. He was an inch taller than his father now and blocked her view of the picture of her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she went to stand beside him. She was shocked to see that the photo on the wall was no longer her and Viktor in the water, but also neither of the two she'd given Thomas yesterday. Instead, the photo was of her Spliffing at the World Cup ages ago and collapsing into a heap with a muddy splash.

Art looked down at her with a bemused expression. "How old were you then?"

"Just a few years older than you are now," Hermione said with utter relief.

"Nice Spliff. What caused you to over tap?" he asked.

"Oh, it was pouring rain and a terrible thunder storm. The stadium at the World Cup was struck by lightning and we were called in to reinforce it. I hadn't had enough to eat and I'd just had a blazing row with your dad, and well, you can see the result."

"What a mess," Art said, smiling.

"She was quite a mess," Thomas said, as he walked up and stood on the other side of Hermione. "Mud everywhere. I was going to cast Mobilicorpus to get her to the medical tent, but I guess your dad had seen everything and he just plucked her out of the mud and carried her all the way back to her tent. Very gallant."

"Seems excessive to carry you all that way," Art commented.

"Well," Hermione said. "Ron doesn't care for Mobilicorpus."

"No," Thomas said. "He snapped at me when I suggested it."

"He thinks it makes the person being lifted seem dead. He's a bit touchy about me looking dead," Hermione said.

"To right," Thomas agreed. "Shouldn't you be headed to training?" he asked Art.

Art looked at the wall clock, "Yes, sir." He nudged his mother. "Nice mud bath," he teased and left the lounge chuckling.

When the door closed behind him, Hermione turned to Thomas. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Thomas shrugged. "When you mentioned that Harry had photographed his memories, I realized I could do that too and then I remembered you Spliffed at the World Cup."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Very embarrassing that."

"Indeed," Thomas said nodding. He smiled at her and went to get a cup of tea. Hermione stood for a moment longer looking at her younger self faint into the mud over and over again. She smiled. At the time, it had been hugely embarrassing to her, but now, it was no more consequential than if it had been a photo of her stubbing her toe. She went to get a cup of tea. She had a lot of work to do.

When she got back to her office, there was a large envelope on her desk. She didn't bother opening it and just tucked it in her bag.

xXx

Ron arrived home at six o'clock to find Hermione in the kitchen having a snack and reading the newspaper. He noticed she'd discarded the Daily Prophet already and was now reading The Times.

"What are the Muggles up to?" Ron asked.

"More of this Brexit mess," she said, setting aside the paper.

"The what?" Ron said.

"Never mind," she said.

"How did it go today?" he asked. "Did Thomas change the photo?"

She smiled. "He did."

"Well?" he said, when she didn't elaborate. "Which did he pick?"

"Neither. He took a photo of his memory of me Spliffing at the World Cup and falling into the mud." Ron looked confused. "The one that took place shortly after we got back together. Remember, when the lightning hit the stadium?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron said. He pulled out a chair and sat next to her and took a biscuit off the plate in front of her. Winky didn't appear, but a cup of tea appeared in front of Ron. "Thanks, Winky," he said to the room in general. A few more biscuits appeared on the plate in front of Hermione. "So, what happened to the other photos?" Ron asked.

"Thomas left them in an envelope on my desk," she said, and took another biscuit. The new arrivals were Winky's homemade jammie dodgers.

Ron looked at her work bag which she'd tossed on the table when she came in. The edge of an envelope was sticking out. He tugged it free and said, "This envelope?"

She looked at him and they held eye contact for a long moment. "Yes."

He opened it and pulled out the photos. The top two were the ones Harry had taken. He looked at them for a moment and then turned them over, leaving the one of her and Viktor in the water. He grimaced and arched an eyebrow at her. "Did you two ever have sex in a bed?"

She let out a soft snort. "Once or twice." She turned over the photo and placed them all back in the envelope.

"What are you going to do with them?" Ron asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Burn them maybe. Or keep them in my desk as a cautionary tale."

"Never to leave me again?" Ron teased.

"Ha ha," Hermione said dryly.

Ron pulled her over to him by the seat of her chair. "That's good advice you know. Never to leave me again."

"I'll take that under advisement," Hermione said with a slight smile.

"Good," Ron said and slide his hand into her hair to cup her head and bring her in for a kiss. She made it easier by sliding into his lap.

He had his shirt off and was unbuttoning the top of her robes when there was a loud pop and Harry appeared in the kitchen. "Good grief," he exclaimed. "Don't you two ever have sex in a bed?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other and then laughed. "Once or twice," Ron said, pulling on his shirt.

Hermione just shook her head and started buttoning her robes. "What can we do for you Harry?"

"I'll make it quick," Harry said. "Ginny wants to have a bon voyage party for Denis on Saturday evening from six to nine. She's grown quite fond of him since he's been staying at the Broomsticks all summer. It'll just be family and the friends he's made since he's been here. Does that work for you two?"

"That's fantastic," Ron said. "We were just going to have him over for dinner, but a party sounds better."

"Good," Harry said. "Ginny's going to close the Broomsticks for three hours so we'll have it there."

"Perfect," Ron said. "Tell her since she's providing the venue, I'll foot the bill for food and drink. Open bar is fine."

"Even better," Harry said, smiling. "Alright, I'll let her know and you'll get an invitation tomorrow."

"Great," Ron said. "Thanks Harry."

"As you were," Harry said and Disapparated.

"That was sweet of her," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said.

She stood and took his hand. "Want to pick up where we left off? We could try one of those beds you people keep going on about."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah. I think you'll like it."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Hermione said and led the way upstairs.

xXx

The rest of the week went quickly for Hermione. There were several projects she had to review and on Wednesday she met Pietra for lunch and found that the years apart hadn't affected their friendship that much and they got on just as well as they always had. After a lovely lunch, they made plans to go shopping the following weekend.

xxx

Ron, on the other hand, was having a hard time with Denis' upcoming departure. "I feel like I've just started to get to know him and now he's leaving," he said as they were getting dressed for the party Saturday evening.

"I know," Hermione said. "Perhaps he'll come back or maybe he'll invite you to Kenya. Or to meet somewhere in the middle."

"You think?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Maybe. We'll just have to see," she said.

He sighed. "It's been really great having him in the shop this week. He's a natural with the customers and has a real affinity for charms. I mean, I've yet to show Art a charm he can't do, but he just doesn't enjoy it the way Denis does. I know Ester has that internship set up for Denis in their Ministry when he gets back, but he could do so well with charmed objects."

"Maybe he'll go that way," Hermione said. "You never know."

"I don't know how Ester would feel about that though," Ron said. "Government is kind of their family business."

"I'm sure she just wants him to be happy," Hermione said, slipping her feet into her sandals. "We should go."

xXx

The Three Broomsticks was already filling up when they arrived. Just family was a lot people and when Ginny added the other Gringotts interns and the friends Denis had made through his cousins, the inn was packed. As they made their way through the room greeting everyone, Hermione heard Molly say to Ron's Auntie Muriel, "No, it's Ron's oldest son that is going to Kenya, not Artie. Remember, I explained all this to you?"

"Who was Ron's first wife?" Muriel asked.

Molly sighed.

Hermione chuckled. Molly would be explaining the situation all night to Muriel.

Ron got them both pumpkin juice at the bar and then they caught sight of Denis and went to greet him. He was standing with some of his friends from work. As Ron and Hermione approached, Denis said, "This is my father, Ron Weasley, and his wife Hermione."

Everyone shook hands. The other young people were impressed since they'd grown up hearing Ron and Hermione's names. Growing up in Kenya, Denis had known who Harry Potter was, but he'd never heard of Ron and Hermione until he came to England.

As the evening progressed, the party naturally began to divide along age lines with the younger people congregating near the bar and the older ones on the other side of the room. As Hermione made her way back to the bar for some sparkling water she heard Denis refer to Art as his brother while he explained that he'd grown up in Kenya with his mama and baba and Art had grown up here.

Later, as Muriel once again mistook Denis for his cousin John, Molly thought someone ought to take a photo of John and Denis together because the resemblance was startling. The two young men thought it was funny and began posing and pointing at each other. After the photos started, they continued: Ron with his two sons, Ron and Hermione with Art and Denis, Art and Denis together, and then the entire Weasley clan, and then Denis with several of his friends. It was a fun night and it was hard when it was time for Denis to take his Portkey.

He'd already cast a shrinking charm on his luggage so it was in his pocket. At nine o'clock he said goodbye to everyone and went through a last round of hugs before he and Ron walked up to the roof of the Three Broomsticks.

"It's been wonderful having you here," Ron said. "You know you're welcome back any time."

"Thanks," Denis said, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check.

"And whatever career path you choose," Ron said. "I'm proud of you. I'd be happy to help with whatever you decide."

Denis nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Right," Ron said. "Well, you should be off then. Don't want to miss your window."

Denis nodded again before hugging Ron. Ron held him tight, but only for a moment and then let him go. Denis pulled his wand and touched it to the old shoe that Hermione had converted into a Portkey to Nairobi for him. In an instant, he was gone. Ron took a deep breath and stared out into the night for a long time before he felt together enough to go back downstairs.

xXx

By the time Ron got back to Hermione, the inn was open to the public and most of the party had gone home, but Art and Emma were still there talking with Hermione.

"Alright there, Dad? Art asked.

Ron nodded.

"Want a drink?" Art asked, holding up the ale he was drinking.

"No, I think I just want to go home. I'm knackered," Ron said. "Thanks for coming tonight."

"I wouldn't have missed it. Turns out, you were right. It is nice to have a brother. I like him."

"Me too," Emma said. "I'm going to miss him."

"Yeah," Ron said, sadly. "Me too. You ready?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes." She hugged Art and Emma, told them to come to dinner on Sunday, and then stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in the green flame. Ron hugged Emma and then Art. "Goodnight, son," he said.

"Goodnight, Dad."

Ron stepped into the fireplace and the Floo sent him rushing back home.

xXx

It was the following Friday morning, when the Verreaux's Eagle Owl arrived along with the other owls that brought the paper and the post. Ron gave the foreign owl two treats and a bowl of water before sitting back down at the kitchen table to read the letter from Denis. Hermione watched him open it. After a few minutes, he set down the letter and closed his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he's home," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, starting to get concerned. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, it's just…" he looked at her, his eyes glassy with tears. "The letter starts 'Dear Dad.'"

She reached across the table and took his hand.

"He says his internship at the Ministry is going well, but he's been thinking about how to charm an MP3 player and he's got some pretty good ideas."

Hermione smiled at him. "Of course, he does. He's your son."

Ron smiled and wiped his eyes with the edge of his hand. "Yeah. Yeah, he is. You know, I think this might turn out alright."

"Of course, it will," Hermione said, squeezing his hand. "One thing I know to be true is that one irresponsible moment can change your life, but it doesn't have to define it or ruin it. You handled this situation right and it's turned out fine. That's the trick. How you handle it."

Ron brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "You're wise, you know that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Slow is what I am, but I'm getting there."

~Finis~

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I have an urban fantasy, The 7000 Souls of Alma Drake, coming out February 28, 2023. It's available on Amazon Kindle pre-order right now for just $2.99, but it will be available on all digital platforms and in paperback for full price after 2/28/23. You might also like my books: The Annie Fitch Mysteries: Exposed Fury and Hidden Fury. Or my first book, a contemporary romantic novel, One Big Beautiful Thing, available anywhere books are sold and on all digital platforms. Enjoy!