Chapter 2: Dinner Guests

Ron squirmed as his mother fussed over his head wound.

"Honestly, Mum," he said in exasperation. "It's only a scratch. You don't need to use so much dittany on it- Cor! That stings!"

She ignored his protests and continued to swab the greenish-brown potion into the large cut above Ron's left eyebrow.

Across the room, a bespelled pair of rubber gloves was washing the luncheon dishes while an enchanted knife busily peeled potatoes for supper. The Burrow's kitchen was filled with delicious aromas, but Ron could only smell the sour odor of the healing potion.

"Why don't you just stay inside this afternoon, Ronnie?" she cooed hopefully. "You've been home nearly a week, but you've been kept so busy with congratulatory visitors and Ministry personnel. I feel as if I've hardly had any time with you!" She held up a well-worn copy of Charm Your Own Cheese, "Stay in with me and I'll let you eat the rinds off the Horklump Havarti."

Ron raised his eyebrows and his stomach growled.

Harry burst through the back door, his jeans covered in grass stains and the beginnings of a magnificent black eye puffing up purple on his face. "Had enough, eh?" he taunted Ron playfully, "Blimey, Weasley, I can't believe you were knocked off your broom by your little sister."

"She cheated!"

"Tell 'King Weasley' to come out here and say that!" Ginny bellowed from across the garden. "If he can't defend against a Bludger Backbeat, then I can't imagine how he ever made it onto the House team!"

Ron leapt from his chair and bolted through the door while Harry roared with laughter. Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue and set about tidying up the kitchen table.

"Thanks again for letting me stay at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, as he watched Ron and Ginny zoom past the window on their broomsticks, shouting jinxes at one another.

"Of course, dear." She replied, pouring him a tall glass of pumpkin juice. "I'm glad to have you all here for at least a little while longer." She smiled wistfully. "I expect I shall have an empty nest quite soon, what with Ginny coming of age this year and George so keen to have you and Ron come live with him in his Diagon Alley flat." Mrs. Weasley's hands shook as she arranged a vase of flowers. Harry wondered if she was thinking of Fred.

He thought briefly of the public funeral that Hogwarts had hosted the week before. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and the others who had lost their lives during the Battle of Hogwarts had been laid to rest under a small grove of laurel trees on the castle grounds. George seemed to be taking his brother's death especially hard, and Harry wondered (not for the first time), if it wouldn't do George some good if he had a few flatmates.

Harry wanted to comfort Mrs. Weasley, but before he could think of anything to say, Hermione entered the room. Her long hair was pulled into a messy topknot, exposing her ears that were wiggling uncontrollably.

"Twitchy- ears hex," she said to Harry, looking woozy. "It came in from the bedroom window!"

"One of Ginevra's jinxes gone astray, no doubt," Mrs. Weasley said sagely, " I swear, she becomes more like her brothers every day…" She took Hermione's hand and reached into her frilly apron pocket for her wand, happy to have someone to fuss over.

Ron and Ginny barged merrily into the kitchen a moment later, still jostling one another. They sat down at the table with Harry, and Mrs. Weasley set out a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Harry stole a glance at Ginny's rosy face, and smiled to himself.

Ron scooted down the bench to make room for Hermione, who sat down gratefully, still looking a little cross-eyed. "Has there been any word from Headmistress McGonagall for us today, Mrs. Weasley?" she asked, smiling at Ron as he poured her a glass of juice.

"No, dear, I don't think so." Mrs. Weasley answered, looking up to the room's rafters at the sleeping forms of Pigwidgeon and Errol. She picked up a stack of dirty cauldrons from a countertop and headed out into the scullery across the yard.

"I don't understand," Hermione puzzled, "Ginny received a letter days ago about her cancelled exams. How are we supposed to pass our N.E.W.T.s if we don't study by correspondence this summer?"

"Maybe old McGonagall's decided to exempt us from our seventh year studies," Ron suggested hopefully. "As acknowledgement for finally doing away with Voldemort."

"Ron!" Hermione chided him, "Education is important!"

"I'm not saying it isn't," Ron countered, rolling his eyes. "But maybe they've just officially checked us off as drop-outs? Even you have to admit, 'Mione, it would be grand if-"

"Drop-outs?"

Harry chuckled as he watched them squabble, but when he turned to Ginny, his smile died on his face. She was suddenly quiet, and looking at him strangely. He realized with a start, that if he didn't return to Hogwarts again next fall, they would be forced apart for another entire year. The prospect was extremely unappealing. It had been less than a fortnight since the Battle of Hogwarts, and though he and Ginny hadn't had much opportunity to be alone together, they had made excellent use of the few stolen hours they had been afforded…

"Here," she murmured, lifting her wand and breaking Harry from his reverie. "Let's see if I can take care of that black eye."

Harry closed his eyes as she waved her wand, whispering a healing charm. He opened them again and smiled at her rakishly. "Thanks, Red."

She returned his smile and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Broom shed. After supper. We really ought to polish your broomstick."

Harry choked on his juice as she drew away and whisked upstairs, calling over her shoulder to Hermione that she was going up to their room to change out of her Quidditch clothes.

"You all right, mate?" asked Ron, coming around the table to thump Harry on the back.

"Yeah." Harry sputtered, his eyes wide.

*******

An hour later, Ron and Harry were sent up to the attic bedroom to change into something appropriate for supper. "Mr. Weasley's bringing some important guests home tonight," she said, ushering the boys upstairs. "Hermione, dear, will you help me set the table?"

"More stuffed-shirt Ministry bureaucrats coming to ogle at the Chosen One, I expect." Ron teased, elbowing Harry in the ribs as they entered Ron's bedroom.

"Naturally," Harry answered snootily, puffing up in mock arrogance.

Chuckling, Ron shrugged out of his muddy jumper and turned to scrutinize his face in the small, cracked mirror sitting on his bureau. Lying next to the mirror was a crumpled square of white linen. He picked up the handkerchief and unconsciously pressed it to his lips.

They had been walking as part of the funeral procession in the Hogwarts laurel grove when Hermione had wordlessly slipped it into his hand. He remembered mopping his eyes brusquely before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He had reached out then and grabbed her hand, pressing their palms together and gripping her fingers tightly with his own.

" I feel like a right git, Harry."

"Understandably so."

"Sod off!" Ron laughed, throwing the wadded up pullover at his friend. "I was thinking about Hermione."

"Of course you were," said Harry, still smiling as he attacked his hair with a comb. "It's a day that ends in 'y', isn't it?"

Ron snorted. "Look whose talking. Every time Gin walks into the room you fall all over yourself."

"I thought we were talking about you and Hermione."

"Right." Ron yanked a grey shirt over his head and ran a hand through his own messy hair. "Enough of this. I'm going to speak with her tonight. I'll ask her to go for a walk with me out to the orchard after supper."

"Excellent." said Harry. "Just stay clear of the broom shed."

*******

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley took her husband's coat and hat as he stepped through the front door and kissed her on the cheek. She turned her attention to the people still standing on the porch outside. "Minister Shacklebolt! Professor McGonagall, welcome!"

"I hope it's not too much trouble, Molly," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he and Minerva McGonagall entered the foyer. "But we've brought a surprise guest along with us."

A stocky, dark-haired boy followed them into the house shyly.

"Neville!" Ginny cried. She come into the room to help her mother hang up the guests' coats, but instead ran forward to embrace her friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley interrupted hurriedly, filling her daughter's arms with coats. "Hang these on the closet, please. Come now, Neville dear. Everyone will be in the kitchen."

Puzzled by her mother's behavior, Ginny headed to the closet as Neville was ushered into the kitchen. As she hung the coats, she could hear Harry, Ron and Hermione's surprised exclamations upon seeing their dinner guests. Kingsley was laughing when she finally slid into her seat at the kitchen table beside Harry.

"Time is limited," he said in his deep voice, "but we are not so hurried that all propriety is abandoned." He smiled broadly as Mrs. Weasley heaped boiled ham onto his plate. "Thank you Molly."

Everyone smiled politely and stopped talking for a few moments. Mr. Weasley raised his wine goblet in a toast to the guests, and they all began to eat.

Ron was tucking into his dinner with his usual fervor, but Harry and Hermione had trouble focusing on their plates. Finally, Hermione could stand it no longer.

"Professor," she began urgently to McGonagall. "I've been hoping to speak with you regarding our N.E.W.T. exams."

"Of course, Miss Granger." replied the Headmistress between mouthfuls of black pudding. "Forgive me for not responding to your letters earlier." She turned to Kingsley. "I think the Minister will be able to shed some light on the situation."

The large man coughed and looked down at his food. "Yes, yes of course." he said, putting down his fork regrettably. "During the last week, we at the Ministry have come to a political impasse. There remain many Death Eaters who have yet to surrender themselves to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Despite Lord Voldemort's defeat, these people are still to be considered extremely dangerous. Our Auror department has been seriously depleted over the past year, and the Ministry is failing to mount a proper manhunt to apprehend these Death Eaters."

The room fell silent as they all contemplated the danger posed to the Wizarding World with Death Eaters still at large.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry said. "But you mentioned a political impasse?"

"Yes," Kingsley sighed. 'It seems a civic group has come forward to protest the actions of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"How can that be?" Ron asked, aghast. "The Death Eaters are murderers. How can anyone oppose their arrest?"

"Murderers they may be, Ron," the Minister continued in passionate agreement, "But this civic group has grown quite powerful. Some very well connected wizarding families run it. They are applying a great deal of opposition to my fledgling administration. In recent days, their leader, Lucius Malfoy, has grown bold enough to propose his own appointment to as Head of the Aurors."

There was a collective gasp.

"Malfoy swears their campaign's only goal is to obtain amnesty for former Death Eaters, but I believe their interests lie infinitely deeper." Kingsley leaned forward, his tone grave. "I have been Minister of Magic for less than a month. The public is afraid to put their faith in the Ministry after the events of the past years. I have a duty to protect Britain from the fugitive Death Eaters, but I lack the manpower to do so."

McGonagall cleared her throat. "We are offering you three a choice tonight," she said, looking squarely at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You may elect to return to Hogwarts this fall, and complete your studies in full, as would be appropriate-"

"Or," Kingsley interjected. "You may join the Ministry as Aurors. Tonight."

Ron looked over at Neville. He looked pale, but his eyes contained resolve. Ron remembered seeing that look on his face when the D.A. fought in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries so long ago.

"Neville's been recruited already." Harry stated approvingly.

The Minister nodded. "Yes. You four are of age. You've had more experience fighting Dark forces than most senior members of my current Auror squad."

Ron nodded. "Count me in."

Harry smiled and clapped Ron's shoulder in exhilaration. "Me too."

Ron turned to Hermione expectantly. She didn't return his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Minister," she said slowly. "I must decline." She looked to McGonagall. "Professor, I want to go back to Hogwarts."

McGonagall smiled gently. "I am glad to hear it, Miss Granger. Though not surprised."

"If you ever change your mind, Hermione," Kingsley said. "My offer stands."

"Thank you."

"I'm afraid our time is limited," Kingsley said apologetically to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as he stood. "I must return to the office now to begin the necessary paperwork." He nodded to Harry, Ron, and Neville, "I'll expect you three by Floo in the Ministry at midnight." He bowed to Professor McGonagall, who had also risen from her seat. "I'd be honored to escort you back to Hogwarts, Headmistress."

The room erupted into excited chatter. Mr. Weasley absently patted his wife on the back, "My son, an Auror!" he exclaimed proudly, as Mrs. Weasley sobbed. Neville and Harry shook hands, talking excitedly as Ginny smiled radiantly at Harry.

Ron couldn't tear his eyes from Hermione. His chest suddenly ached and he gasped for breath. "I'm sorry, Minister. I must decline." He couldn't imagine what the year would be like without her constant presence. Didn't she know how he and Harry had come to depend on her? Didn't she know how deeply she would be missed? Ron continued to stare at Hermione in disbelief until she finally turned to face him.

"Honestly, Ronald," she snapped nastily under her breath, "Stop looking at me like that!" She sprang from her chair and rushed upstairs. Ron called after her wordlessly, half-surprised she did not audibly hear the roaring desperation in his heart.

*******

Hermione's exit had not escaped Ginny. She looked from her friend's retreating form to her brother's sullen face and shook her head.

Then, under the table, a hand slipped into hers. Harry continued his conversation with Neville, but Ginny could see him shiver slightly as their fingers entwined.

A pang of sadness hit her as she realized how long she and Harry would be parted this time. She tightened her grip on his hand, and tried to infuse the clasp with all her emotions that went unsaid.

*******

Hermione lay face down on Ginny's bed, sobbing quietly into a pillow. Crookshanks curled up next to her, purring as comfortingly as he could.

She sat up and wiped her eyes hurriedly when she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

Harry opened the door and came over to sit next to his friend. He was dressed for traveling in a brown jacket and a tweed cap. A rucksack was slung over he shoulder.

"Mr. Weasley reckons we won't be able to leave London during our Auror training," he said, as he noticed her looking at the rucksack. "Then we'll probably be sent abroad as we begin tracking the Death Eaters."

Hermione nodded miserably. "I expect it will be a long time before we see each other again."

"I hope not."

She held out her hand as if to shake his. "Don't be daft!" Harry laughed, as he pulled her into a bear hug. "We'll miss you. I don't know how we'll ever get along without you."

She pulled away, blinking back more tears. "Nonsense. You'll get along fine without me and my silly books."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "We'll miss much more than your cleverness, Hermione."

The bedroom door creaked again as someone shifted on the other side of it. Harry stood up. "See you," he said, as he left the room.

"See you, Harry."

Hermione heard a muffled voice out in the hall, and then a nervous cough. Ron opened the door and popped his head inside.

"Can I have a minute?" he asked, stepping through the doorway.

"Of course."

"I just wanted to say that I think your making a huge mistake," he said roughly.

His crass tone was shocking, but she understood. "No," she shook her head, looking at the night sky beyond the window. "This is the right choice for me."

"It isn't!" Ron said. "You'll- you'll regret it." His voice broke. "You'll miss us."

Fresh tears began to run down Hermione's cheeks. "You're right," she said wretchedly. "I will miss you, Ron."

"I'm sorry," he stammered, kneeling before her. "Please don't cry, 'Mione. I didn't mean to be such a prat."

"I know," she said, smiling weakly.

He reached out to take her shaking hand into his gloved one. Like Harry, Ron was dressed in a jacket and cap; he too had a rucksack hanging from one shoulder.

They sat still for a moment, settling into their customary awkward silence. Then suddenly-

"Bugger it," Ron muttered, and he drew Hermione abruptly against him. His heart thudded in his ears when she leaned down and kissed him. He held her closer as she stroked his face, his neck, his chest. Her lips were salty from her tears, and Ron traced his thumbs over her wet cheeks, murmuring sweetly against her soft mouth.

Hermione's stomach sank when she heard the clock downstairs chime half-past eleven. She shifted to lay her hear against his shoulder.

"Come down to see us off?" he whispered against her hair.

"Okay."

After they went down into the living room, Ron moved to embrace his parents, then his sister. Harry shocked them all by impulsively kissing Ginny full on the mouth before he ducked into the waiting fireplace. Blushing, Neville waved and went to stand by Harry. Ron kissed Hermione shyly, chastely on the cheek, but his blue eyes burned with desire and sadness.

Ginny leaned her head against Hermione's shoulder as they forlornly watched Harry, Ron, and Neville vanish into the black and green flames. Mrs. Weasley patted both girls comfortingly on their backs while Mr. Weasley coughed gruffly, hiding his bemused smile.