Four Years After
Ron and Hermione threaded their way through the crowd in Diagon Alley. Seeing as it was around noon, many members of the crowd were carrying out their lunchtime errands. Hands clasped, they moved towards the small outdoors lunch spot that sat a few storefronts down from Gringotts.
When they finally arrived, Hermione glanced around. Their usual table was occupied.
"One over here, love." Ron moved towards a table that was significantly closer to the actual café.
"Did I ever tell you how I always thought Wizarding London was much smaller than it actually is?" Hermione asked. "Before I got my apartment here."
"Me too. Mum never let us wander very far, so we never got into the residential areas or the factories and all. Tip of the iceberg, I say."
As they seated themselves, Hermione looked around. "He'd better not eat in his office again. All he has are those cookies and crackers."
"Better than when we were kids, binging on candy half the time." Ron shuffled his foot. "I think I've got gum on my shoe."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "He'd better remember it's Thursday, too. He works too much."
"We all work too much. You finished your Sorceress degree in a year and a half, natch. Took Dad three years, and his Strength was Charms. You had three Strengths." Hermione glared at him. "And now you want a Professorship. Don't you want to tour Europe or something?"
"Of course. I'm going to Italy with my parents next month."
"Yes. For a project."
"Alright, now you're splitting hairs."
"I always find you two like this, you know," snarked Harry as he sat down in the third chair.
"Nice of you to show up," huffed Hermione. But she smiled.
A house-elf came by for their order. She still looked awkward when the trio said "please" and "thank you," but accepted it far better than she would have a few years ago. She even noticeably recognized Hermione and Harry, but said nothing.
"You're not tipping her," chided Ron when the server was gone.
"Of course I am!"
Harry wrinkled his brow. "I think the last time you did that, the poor guy had a seizure."
"Sorry, 'Mione. You've got to give them time though."
Hermione huffed again, but seemed calmer. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. The Wizarding world had had a "Voldemort backlash" after his defeat, and Hermione had been vocal in getting several liberal laws passed, including new graft and corruption laws and a strengthening of the General Assembly, the elected representatives of Wizarding Britain, at the expense of the Wizengamot, traditionally dominated by old Wizarding families. One of the new laws was the institution of a wage for house-elves. It had gone about as well as you'd expect, until compromises, such as established minimum hours and an Abuse Law, had been implemented to please the elves. It was still taking time for both parties to get used to it, though, and tipping was still completely beyond the pale.
However, both Hermione's best friend and her boyfriend had long agreed that her intentions were good, and had accomplished a lot.
"How's work, Harry?"
Harry sighed. "We're still having difficulty bringing some of the last few Death Eaters to trial. Lack of evidence."
"No Pensieve work?"
"Not for these guys. They left most of their victims…dead. And we keep getting Dementor sightings in Wales."
"Never quite done with them, are we?"
"We? I still can't deal with the bloody things as well as most Aurors. Weak spot of mine. They started Kissing Death Eaters near the end, you know. Even Voldemort couldn't keep much of a handle on them."
"Most of the last Death Eaters still deserve them." Ron shrugged. "Most."
"I don't think we'll ever trust them enough to let them back into Britain, let alone guard our prisoners," Harry said.
"That could backfire on us," Hermione piped up. "The way the giants did."
"This is quite the depressing conversation." Ron said nonchalantly, the way he tended to do when they discussed serious subjects.
"Why do you guys keep asking about my work then?" asked Harry with feigned annoyance.
"Well, we could always talk about Quidditch and leave Hermione out. Or the two of you could talk about different spells and politics and leave me out. Or Hermione and I could argue and leave you out. Frankly, your work is the best option we have, mate."
Then he looked past Harry. "But if you really want an interesting conversation…"
"Hello, Harry. I see you're letting your hair grow again."
"Hello, Luna" was the general chorus. She smiled.
"It's good to see I'm not interrupting anything. I feel the conversation had stagnated before I came over here."
"Not really, but you're still welcome," said Hermione happily.
"It's alright if I'm not. Harry already appears to be a fifth wheel, and I would hate to be a sixth."
Harry blinked. "I've never…"
"If Harry wasn't here, Hermione and I would fight all the time rather than most of the time," said Ron. Hermione gave him The Look again, but turned back to Luna when she sat.
"How are you, Luna?" Hermione asked.
Luna pushed back some of her scraggly hair. "I'm fine. Although reporting is tedious work, and the truth is more elusive than a Snorkack."
"Agreed," muttered Harry.
"I also haven't had sex in a while, I'm afraid. Ever since Rolf and I broke up, things have been quite slow on that front."
Hermione gaped. Ron smiled a little – having grown up with Luna close by all his life, he was used to it. Harry was trying not to burst out laughing.
"I'm…sorry, Luna."
She shrugged. "It's okay. I've already made you uncomfortable, so I won't talk about that anymore. Oh, do they have Reubens here?" She started sifting through the menu.
Ron was about to respond, but never got a chance before the explosion happened.
