Thank you SO much for all your amazing reviews - really appreciate you taking the time to leave comments :) And I'm glad you seem to like it. I shall confess that writing that last chapter actually made me cry...I drew on my own experiences with grief and it wasn't easy.

But, hopefully things are going to be quite as depressing now...there's still a difficult time ahead though.

Here, I give you chapter three. Usual disclaimers apply - I am not JK Rowling, just borrowing her amazing world for a little while :)

Chapter Three

"What," I swallowed. "What do you mean?" I asked, starring at him in shock. My heart felt as though it was going to burst out of my chest. "Have…have they found his…his…"

"No," Harry quickly shook his head before I finished that thought. "I mean, he's alive."

"What?" I yelped the word and shot up in my seat, knocking a whole bottle of ink over, not that I noticed. "No…I mean…how can he? Who saw…what?" I just looked at Harry, dumbfounded, not really understanding what he meant. This was impossible, wasn't it?

"I'll explain," he began and quickly got up to fetch me a glass of water and flick his wand towards the door to lock it so we wouldn't be interrupted.

"I don't…I don't understand?" I looked up at him pleadingly as he handed me the water, telling me to take a few sips. He seemed worried that I might pass out or something. "Please," I set down the glass, "tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

Harry sat down again, removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Kevin, from the Magical Creatures department, you remember Kevin, right? Works in the Pest sub-division?" I just glared at him to continue. "Yes, right. Well, he came to see me about an hour ago. Apparently they had some trouble, a couple of Muggle houses on the Lincolnshire coast got a pretty bad doxy infestation. He's just spent the entire weekend there clearing the houses and then overseeing damage control with the Muggles who lived there. Anyway," he shook his head, when he saw I was getting impatient with this explanation. "Whilst he was there, he says that he swears he saw Ron. Walking around, large as life and seemingly living in this village."

"He's…okay?" I asked, eagerly.

"Well, yeah, if this really is him. Kevin reckons he spoke to him a few times and Ron just looked right through him, didn't show any recognition, even though they worked together on a case of abuse against Hippogriffs a few years ago. And that he didn't respond to his name at all. He stood yelling him across the street for ages, he said. Yet, Kev says he'd swear on his mother's life it was Ron."

"Do you think he's telling you the truth?" I asked Harry, trying to keep the pounding of my heart under control. I drank some more water.

He shrugged. "He's got no reason to come and tell me some story for no reason. I believe he believes what he saw. Whether he really saw Ron though…I don't know," he shook his head.

"Did he tell you where this village was? How to get there I mean?" I asked, beginning to pack my books up.

"Yeah. Should be easy enough to find," he nodded. "Wait…you want to go there?" He realised.

"Yes," I replied, looking up at him briefly as though that was the stupidest question in history. I went to grab my bag and cloak from the hook by the door and then just looked at Harry who still hadn't moved from his seat.

"You want to go now?" he realised. "But…Hermione. What if it isn't him? I don't want to drag you out there and get your hopes up for nothing." He spoke gently to me.

"I don't care," I shook my head. "Don't you see Harry. I have to go. I have to go and see for myself. Because if I don't, I'm just going to sit and wonder and…I need to know. I have to know. Didn't I always say that I felt if he was truly gone, I would know. That I'd feel it, inside?" I reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but," he shrugged again. Obviously he, along with almost everyone else, had just thought that was the nonsense babble of a grieving widow.

"And I never really did feel it. Please Harry. Just take me there. I have to see, for myself. And if it's not him, then, I...I'll deal with it."

"And if it is, I'll kick his ass for putting you through all this," he muttered. "Fine. But…just calm down a few minutes. I need to go let my staff know I'm going to be away from the department. And you should clear it with Kingsley and then there's Rose and Hugo to deal with as well." He reminded me.

"Yes, of course." I felt guilty for not thinking of them, for wanting to rush off blindly in some crazy crusade to find my assumed dead husband.

"Just give me ten minutes, okay? And we'll meet at my house and decide where to go from there. I should let Ginny know as well," he added, whilst leaving my office and heading off to deal with things.

"Harry, what the hell is Hermione on about?" Ginny whispered furiously to him and dragged him through the doorway the moment he opened the door to the kitchen at his house. I'd got there before him and after they'd all got over the surprise of my being back early from work, I'd pulled Ginny into the kitchen and told her the earth shattering news.

Harry sighed. "Nice to see you too Gin," he rolled his eyes at his wife before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"She's babbling on about Ron being alive and going to find him or something. What is she talking about?"

Harry glared at me across the table. "Cup of tea would be nice, darling?" he smiled up at her, taking a seat at the table.

"Sod the damn tea!" She waved her hand in the air. "Tell me what she's talking about." She demanded, slamming the same hand down on the table.

Harry sighed again. "Before anyone rushes into anything, this might be a false alarm."

"What might be? Harry, I swear to Merlin if you don't explain right now…" Ginny warned him, fading off on what her threat would be.

He took his glasses off, laying them on the kitchen table for a moment as he rubbed his face and began to tell her everything that he'd already told me. Whilst he explained to Ginny, I made a pot of tea and brought it to the table, along with three cups just as he finished his story.

Ginny was quiet when he finished, letting everything sink in as she silently poured herself a mug of tea, added sugar and milk and stirred her cup. "Why?" She then simply asked.

"What?" Harry put his own mug down, confused by his wife's question.

"Why has he been living in this Muggle town? I don't understand, why didn't he just come home?" She looked at both of us in turn.

My head shot up at her words with a jolt, almost knocking over my cup of tea I'd just poured and spilt the milk onto the table rather than pouring it into my mug. I jumped when it trickled from the table onto my lap and I realised what I'd done with a gasp. They both turned to look at me in concern as I righted it and cleared up the mess I'd made, using my wand.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, taking my hand.

I just shook my head, I couldn't voice the thoughts going through my mind yet. I'd been so excited and beyond hopeful when Harry had first told me he'd been found that I hadn't even considered the whys and how's. But now…it didn't make sense. Ginny was right, why was he living in some Muggle town just a few hours away, seemingly fine? Why hadn't he come home to his family? Was it possible he'd done this on purpose? That he'd ran away and started a new life without us? Did he really think that little of his family? Had life really been that bad for him that he felt he had no way out?

I tried to think back to the couple of weeks before he'd disappeared, recall any signs that he'd been unhappy. Sure, we'd argued a few times – but nothing major. Hugo had been teething and Rose had been having bad dreams, so neither of us were getting much sleep when we were up half the night with them or trying to share a bed with both children. But…things hadn't been that bad, had they? Suddenly, I was angry with him. For the first time since he'd been gone, I almost hated him. How dare he put us through this! These last two years of pain and suffering just because he was missing out on a few hours of sleep? The stupid, selfish cockroach!

"…don't even know if it's really him," I suddenly realised Harry was talking again. "I mean, Kev' did say he seemed a bit, well, weird. That he wasn't himself."

"Yeah, probably embarrassed he got caught," I muttered, tersely.

"What did you say?" Ginny asked me.

"Oh come on. Why else would he be hiding out in some small Muggle town in the middle of nowhere? He left us, and now he's pissed off that someone from his past has caught up with him. The stupid git obviously tried to make out he didn't know him to shake him off."

"Hermione…you don't mean that?" Ginny looked appalled. She knew how utterly distraught I'd been without him and couldn't seem to believe I was suddenly calling him names or talking about him with such contempt.

"Don't I? He left us Ginny, let me think he was dead. He left his two kids. What kind of bloody swine does that?"

"Hermione…it might not be him." Harry again pointed out, looking to his wife for support. I knew he didn't want to think the worst of his best friend.

"Yeah," Ginny voiced. "I mean…this Kevin bloke, he may have worked with Ron once, briefly, but he doesn't really know him, does he? He probably got confused or something, he had been working all weekend, none stop, clearing that infestation."

I picked up my mug and shrugged nonchalantly, listening to her try to dissuade me. And now I didn't know what was worse. To think that he had really left us, but he was alive. Or that it wasn't really him and my husband was indeed dead. Ten minutes ago I'd been all set to run off after him, not caring how or why, I just wanted to hold him in my arms again. Now, I didn't know what to think and unexpectedly, my eyes filled with tears and my hands shook, spilling tea onto the table again.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny spoke softly and taking the mug from my hands, she pulled me towards her, hugging me.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told you at all," Harry apologised, taking my hand across the table.

I wiped my eyes and gave them both a watery smile, feeling not for the first time so grateful for the pair of them. Over the last few months they'd always been there for me and I knew I couldn't ask for better friends. "It's okay," I sniffed. "You had to tell me."

"James, not right now sweetheart," I heard Ginny say quietly. I looked up to see their almost six year old son peering through the kitchen door. He looked a little worried, but hardly surprised to see the adults sat solemnly around the table. I realised, sadly, that this scene had probably become a frequent occurrence for him.

"But mummy…" he began to protest.

"James," Harry warned him lightly not to argue with his Mum.

"I'll bring you all some pumpkin juice and a biscuit shortly. Just give us a few minutes, okay sweetie?"

"But it's Hugo. He, he found your wand…and," he grimaced, not wanting to have to tell us. "He's got…bugs crawling out of his nose." He screwed his face up in disgust.

"He did what?" Ginny sounded horrified.

"Oh, no. That son of mine," I sighed and shook my head. "Can't leave him alone for five minutes," I rolled my eyes and made to get up.

"No, I'll go sort him out. It's okay." Ginny insisted.

"Thanks." I smiled at her. "If he's upset though…"

"I'll bring him through," she added, following James back to the front room.

"Just like his dad," I commented with a wry shake of my head.

"Remember the slugs?" Harry asked me, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile.

I nodded. "Hard not to remember those."

"I'm sorry Hermione. I've just upset you all over again, haven't I?"

I shook my head. "It's always there Harry. Sometimes I just hide it better."

He gave me another sympathetic smile and squeezed my hand again. "Hermione…I don't think Ron would really do that to you." he began hesitantly, as though he was afraid of making me cry again. "And I don't think you really believe that either. He adored you, and the kids, you know he did. He was so in love and I haven't seen him happier than when you were all together."

"But why else would he have stayed away for almost two years? I don't understand," I shook my head.

"I guess…I don't believe it's him. I'm sorry Hermione, but I just don't." He added when he saw my pained look. "I want to believe it…I mean, not that he left you, but that he's alive. I really do…I want my best friend back. And I want it to be real for you. But, I can't see it. Maybe I just haven't known enough happy endings." He wondered more to himself, than to me.

I nodded, knowing where he was coming from. "We still have to go and see though. Just in case." I mumbled quietly, clearing up the mess I had made on the table and pouring myself a fresh cup.

"Do you think that's wise?" he asked. "You've already been through so much, and…I don't want to see you hurt again."

"I have to Harry. I have to just see. If it's not him, I'll deal with it. If it is and he left us, he'll find himself hexed to next year," I threatened. "But, I just, I have to know." I shrugged one shoulder.

"Hermione's right," Ginny returned, obviously having caught the tail end of our conversation.

"Was Hugo okay?" I asked her.

She laughed. "A little stunned I think, but he thought the bugs were great fun! He was playing with a worm when I went through."

I rolled my eyes. "What am I going to do with him? Did you tell him off?"

"I told him not to touch things that don't belong to him and that you'd be along to have a word with him."

I nodded, satisfied with that for now.

"Ginny, do you really think she should run off there in hopes it's him?" Harry returned to the subject at hand.

"Yes," she nodded as she sat back down. "Because I know if it was you Harry, I'd want to know. I'd need to check."

He looked at his wife in surprise, obviously he'd assumed she would support his view.

I smiled gratefully at her. "So, we're going?" I asked, hopeful. Even though I was slightly terrified of what we may find there.

"I'll watch the kids, don't worry." Ginny immediately offered and Harry glanced at her.

"Fine," he gave in, removing his glasses again to clean them on his jumper. "We're going."

"Thank you," I patted his hand. "I don't know how long this will take," I turned to Ginny. "I mean, I could be away a couple of days."

"Whatever it takes. Mum can help out with the kids if I need it. Just…go, and if it's him, bring my brother home. So I can wring his skinny neck," she laughed once before hugging me.

With that decided, I disapparated home to pack some things for the children to stay with Ginny, and a bag for myself to take away. I didn't know how big this village was, it could take us a few days to track him down, especially if he heard we were in town and hid from us. Before closing up my bag, I glanced at the photos on my bedside – one from our wedding day – the happiest day of my life. And another, the last photo we'd had taken together as the four of us. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed the both of them and placed them in my bag, before closing it up.

Almost an hour later, after a tearful goodbye with my children. Harry and I both disapparated away. Rosie hadn't wanted me to go at all. Obviously I couldn't tell her where we were going or why – it wasn't fair to get their hopes up after all. But she'd only just accepted me leaving her to go to work for a full day without tears. Telling her I'd be gone for at least a couple of days had been a bad idea. I felt so guilty leaving them both and for leaving Ginny to cope with them. Hopefully this would all be over with quickly and we could put it behind us.

We apparated into an empty field, surrounded by trees. I could smell the brine of the ocean not far away and hear the seagulls screeching overhead. Between the trees I could see evidence of this village – there wasn't all that much to it with about 40 various buildings and that was about it. A few more houses lay scattered on the outskirts, but it appeared very small and secluded – right in the middle of nowhere.

"Ready?" Harry asked me, pulling his rucksack onto his back.

"Ready," I nodded, hanging the little shoulder bag I'd cast an undetectable extension charm on, over my arm and following him. We tramped across the field, scrambled through the trees and came out on a quiet country village square that consisted simply of a notice board littered with local announcements and a bus timetable, a phone box and a bench, that seemed to double as a bus stop. Well, I looked around at the sparseness of the place, it shouldn't take us long at all to find him, if he's here, I thought to myself.

"So, now what?" Harry looked to me, expecting me to have a plan the way I used to meticulously plan everything when we were in school.

"I don't know," I sighed, looking around for a sign of life anywhere. So much for our plan to ask around, the place seemed almost deserted. "Did Kevin say where he spoke to him?" I wondered, figuring that was a good enough place to start.

"The pub," Harry shrugged. "But, I doubt it's open yet." He looked down at his watch as I did the same. It was 3.30 in the afternoon now – too late for the lunch crowd and still a few hours off for the evening patrons.

Just then we both spotted an elderly gentleman leaving a tiny corner shop with his daily newspaper and shuffle off back up the street. "Do you have any Muggle money?" Harry asked, quietly.

"Erm," I rummaged around in my bag, before I came up successfully. "I've only got £10," I handed it to him.

"Come on, we'll go ask in the shop." He decided, already headed towards it, I followed behind slowly. Now that we were here I was almost scared of what we were going to find.

In the shop, Harry picked up a couple of bottles of pop, some crisps and a packet of biscuits. Smiling, he set them down on the counter and waited for the young girl to ring them up.

"Hello," she smiled, politely, though looked utterly bored in her work. I suppose when you stood here all day and your only customers were a few little old men buying their newspaper, I'd be bored too. "Haven't seen you around here before. Passing through?" she wondered, trying to make conversation. "I expect you're heading up to Skegness or something."

"Actually, we're looking for someone." I jumped on the chance she'd left open.

"Yeah, someone told us a friend of ours lived around here." Harry jumped in. "Don't suppose you know him? His name's Ron. Tall guy, ginger hair, kinda skinny?"

"Oh," she nodded and blushed. "You mean Roland. Yeah, he lives out at the farm with the old Bridges couple, think he helps them out with odd jobs. Not seen him in the village for a couple of days though," she sighed. "That's £4.38," she added, having rang up the items and held her hand out for the money.

Harry paid her, thanked her for the information and took our shopping.

"If I see him I'll let him know you're looking for him," she called as we walked out of the shop.

"Well," Harry muttered, heading back to the square to take perch on the bench. "At least we know there's someone who matches his description around here." He handed me a bottle of cola as we sat down.

I sighed, fiddling with the lid of my drink. "Yeah, someone called Roland though."

Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say. "You are sure you want to go through with this? I don't want you to get hurt anymore, Hermione," he added, considerately.

"Thanks Harry, I know you care and you're looking out for me. But…I have to find out. I have to know."

"Okay, just checking." He took a gulp from his bottle and then opened a packet of crisps. "I guess we just wait for the pub to open then?" he asked, to which I agreed. Besides the old man, and a cat wandering across the street, we hadn't seen anyone else about – we didn't have much other choice but to sit here and wait. There was nowhere else in the village to go.

Screwing up my empty packet of crisps, I took a biscuit Harry offered me. I hadn't realised how hungry I'd been until we started eating – we'd missed lunch in all the excitement.

"At least we should be able to get something decent to eat when the pub opens." Harry mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate digestive.

"Hello," a car stopped beside us and wound the window down. "If you're waiting for a bus, I'm afraid the last one left about an hour ago." The helpful stranger leaned across the passenger seat to tell us.

"That's okay, just sitting and enjoying the weather," I smiled. I then noticed him look towards the sky, I followed his gaze and saw the big rain cloud looming. "Oh, erm…" I coughed.

"We're actually waiting for a friend," Harry spoke up, having swallowed the biscuit. "Tall guy, ginger hair, kind of skinny."

The man nodded "That would be Roland. Helps out old Mr Bridges at the farm up yonder." He nodded in some vague direction.

"Do you know if he comes into the village much?"

"He sometimes goes to the pub with the old man. Might be in tonight if you're lucky."

"Great thanks. I…don't suppose there's anywhere to stay in town, is there?" Harry wondered.

"There's a caravan site a few miles that way," he pointed down the road.

"Nowhere in the village?"

"Well, sometimes Mrs Wilson takes in bed and breakfast guests. You could try there. Last house on the street – red door, you can't miss it. I'd best be off."

"Right, well, thank you very much for your help sir."

"You're welcome. Hope you track down Roland. Seems a kind of troubled fella." And with that, he continued on his way.

Harry and I looked at one another, before he started to laugh. "Enjoying the weather," he shook his head.

"Well…it was the first thing I thought of. We must look rather strange to the locals sat at some old bus stop long after the last bus has gone."

"What do you reckon about this bed and breakfast? Shall we check it out? I mean," he looked around, "there's a few farms up yonder," he laughed at the word. "We can't very well go knocking on every door. I suppose we have to wait for him to come into town. And we don't know when that will be."

"I should have just brought the tent," I mumbled.

"That might look even more weird than us sitting here. Come on, we'll go see about this B&B, because that rain cloud is getting closer and I don't fancy getting wet." He stood and put our empty food packets in the bin, before heading up the road.

Mrs Wilson was a plump, stern looking old lady with glasses so large they covered half of her face. A head full of grey curls bobbed when she spoke. "You married?" she asked, standing on the doorstep with her arms folded under an ample bosom, leaving us outside with the threat of rain imminent. "I don't let no couples stay 'less they married."

"Oh, yes. Course we are." Harry grabbed my hand and offered her a huge grin.

"Humph," she grunted. "Rates £30 a night. Breakfast at 7.30 sharp. And the door is locked at 9pm." She added gruffly.

"Right. Sounds perfect," I smiled at her, hoping to appease her a little.

"This way," she turned and headed up the stairs.

Harry and I followed, arguing in hushed whispers. "I don't have any more Muggle money on me."

"Don't worry, I'll disapparate to Diagon Alley and go to Gringotts once we're in the room." He whispered back.

"I just hope she doesn't want cash up front." I whispered back as she stopped and opened the door.

"This is the room. Bathroom across there," she pointed, handed us a key and left us to it.

My heart dropped as I stepped inside. Well, it was hardly The Ritz…it wasn't even the Leaky Cauldron. There was one sorry looking double bed, a rickety looking old chair by a rather dirty window and the ghastly flowered wallpaper, that had probably been up since the 1950's was pealing from the walls. In the corner there was a grubby looking sink with a tap that dripped constantly.

"Lovely," I turned to Harry as he closed the door. He grimaced at the room himself. "What did you tell her we were married for? You know I love you, but not like that…and I think Ginny will kill me if we share a bed." I looked at it, not relishing the idea of sleeping in it at all, let alone with Harry.

"You heard her, she wouldn't let us stay if we weren't. And, I think we need to keep up this pretence of hanging around to find our friend. Don't worry about the bed though, I'll just disapparate home and sleep there and come back in the morning."

"Lucky you," I mumbled, daring to sit down on the bed and squealing as the springs gave way so I was practically sat on the floor.

Harry laughed, helping me up. "And I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of her age," he added when I scowled at him. "Best in our year at Transfiguration if I'm not mistaken. I'm sure you can make the room look a bit better, a little comfier." He suggested, raising one eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes at myself and searched in my bag for my wand.

"Right, I'll just nip out to Gringotts then and get us some Muggle money. We should have thought of that before," he commented, before turning on the spot and disapparating away.

I turned to look at the room, trying to decide what to change first. Everything?

"Do you think he'll come in tonight?" I asked, setting my glass back down on the table and glancing around the near empty, though quaint, country pub.

Harry shrugged, shoving another chip into his mouth. "I hope so, for your sake," he added when he'd swallowed. "Do you want dessert?" He asked, pushing away his now empty plate that had been scampi and chips.

I shook my head, too nervous to eat anything else. I jumped every time the damn door opened and it was still early yet.

"Well, I'm gonna go order some fudge cake." He set the menu back down. "Sure you don't want anything?" He asked as he stood up.

"Just some tea?" I requested.

Whilst Harry was stuffing himself with gooey looking chocolate cake, that I knew Ron would have loved, I noticed an elderly man enter the pub. He walked up to the bar and the man who had stopped by the bus stop earlier went over to speak to him. He pointed in our direction and I quickly looked away. Moments later, the old man approached us.

"'Scuse me," he began. "I'm Mr Bridges, Pete Baggin's just told me you've been asking questions about some bloke who looks like the young man that works for me. Is that right?"

"Erm, yes," I replied, nervously. He was a rather large, gruff looking man.

"We think he might be a friend of ours." Harry added, setting his fork down.

"I see." He took a sip of his beer. "Mind if I sit?" he nodded towards the space beside Harry on the bench.

"No, please," he slid up the bench to make room.

"So," he began after another swig of beer. "What makes you think he could be your friend?"

"Oh, well. He's been missing for a couple of years you see, disappeared during a, erm…altercation with some bad guys. We never knew what happened to him. Then, this past weekend, a work colleague was out this way and said he thought he'd seen him here. As you can understand, we simply had to come and see for ourselves. I mean, we were very close friends."

I sat watching Harry and the old guy talk. He knew something, there was something he was holding back, I just couldn't put my finger on what it was.

"Where you from?" He then asked, gruffly.

"Erm…just outside London." I replied.

"Long way to come just to see if this bloke is your friend." He commented, drinking his beer again.

"Yes, well…"

"Look," he lowered his voice. "You two don't have to pretend with me. I know you're magical folk. Can see it a mile off."

"You're…you're a wizard?" I whispered.

He nodded. "Not been part of the magical world for a long time tho. Me wife's a Muggle-born you see. So when all that trouble with Voldemort started up again, we came here into hiding. Figured they wouldn't bother with some tiny little Muggle village. And it worked, we went through that war unscathed. So, why don't you tell me a bit more about your friend?"

"Okay, yeah…" Harry looked rather shocked to find out this old, extremely normal looking guy, was a wizard. "Well, our friend was an Auror, worked with me at the Ministry. One night, almost two years ago, we were on a mission, a problem with a small band of pure bloods thinking too much of themselves and trying to continue Voldemort's insane ideas. It happens occasionally," he brushed it off with a shrug. "Our friend, Ron, he went missing during the battle that ensued. We searched for him 24/7 for weeks, but…we found nothing. In the end we had to declare him missing, presumed killed."

My breath caught in my throat. Hearing Harry speak of that time again brought it all flooding back – how every day I had lost a little more hope of them finding him safe. Of hearing those dreaded words. Of having to tell our children their daddy was never coming home. It still hurt, just as much today as it did then.

The old man, Mr Bridges, nodded solemnly and drank some more beer. "That sort of ties in with what I can tell you. Though, you might not like what you hear." He added.

"Please…anything you can tell us. I just…we'd really like to find him." I tried not too sound too desperate.

"Fair enough. Well, almost two years, probably about the same time your friend went missing, I got the fright of my life one morning when I went to the barn for some eggs. This bloke was lying there, on a pile of straw, unconscious and obviously badly injured. Looks like he'd fallen through the roof too – a beam had come down and hit his head. Anyway, I took him back to the house. Me wife, Mildred, she has a healer background you see, so she was able to patch him up. Well, as best as she could anyway. Afraid there wasn't much we could do for his memory."

"His memory?" I asked, stunned, holding my tea cup half way to my mouth. "What do you mean?"

He grimaced a little. "When he came to…it was a few days later. He seemed confused and frightened. I tried to explain things, but…well, he didn't know who he was. Somehow the only thing he knew was that he was a wizard, must be some inborn thing, I don't know. But, he knew nothing from his past, couldn't tell us where he came from, his name or anything. I have to say, I was a bit concerned about having him in the house, he could have been dangerous, ya see."

"And now?" I asked hesitantly. "Has…did…does he remember, now?" I bit my bottom lip, afraid of his answer.

He shook his head. "Afraid not. He still can't remember anything from before he woke up in our spare room. Nothing at all…Mildred tried everything she could think of to get his memory back, but…I don't think it's magic that damaged it so I doubt magic can repair it. He says he has dreams sometimes and he wonders if they're glimpses of his past, but as he doesn't know his past, he can't compare them. Anyway, I'm getting on a bit, and the farm is a lot of work. So, since he had nowhere to go, I offered to let him stay with us in return for helping out around the farm. He's been here ever since."

"He knows nothing?" Harry asked, almost as alarmed as me.

"Not a thing. Just that he's a wizard. Oh, and he was wearing a jumper when we found him, had a huge letter 'R' knitted in the front. Figured that must be the first letter of his name, it's why we call him Roland."

I nodded sadly. "His Mum knitted him those jumpers, every Christmas. His name's Ronald, Ron to most people."

Mr Bridges laughed. "We weren't far off then, same letters an' all." He downed his pint of beer. "Certainly does sound like it could be the same bloke."

"It does," I whispered. I felt so incredibly confused - a million emotions were rushing through my head at the same time. If we'd found it wasn't him, I'd been all prepared for the disappointment and the resulting depression that would inevitably follow. No matter what I told Harry, I had let my hopes get built up. If we'd discovered it was him and that he'd ran out on us, hid away from his family like a coward, I would have been hurt and angry with him – I don't think I could have forgiven him for doing that to us.

But now…I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. It was him, I knew it was. He hadn't left us and he wasn't dead…he was alive. Alive, but with amnesia…everything from his past, from our past, was gone to him. Our history together, our relationship, marriage, our children – we'd all be complete strangers to him. How was I supposed to deal with that?

I was disturbed from my inner turmoil, suddenly as Harry, who was sitting facing the door, jumped in his seat and his eyes widened slowly. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost. "Bloody hell," he whispered.

I turned to see what he was looking at, and almost fainted. He might as well have seen a ghost! Ron had just walked into the pub – undeniably Ron. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might leap out of my chest and my head felt dizzy. "Oh My God," I whispered to myself, clutching my hand to my chest. Tears were pooling in my eyes and I couldn't look away from him. He looked a little different – his hair was shorter than I'd seen it in a long time, he was skinnier than I remembered, but not quite as pale – must be from all the working outside – and he had some facial hair, almost a goatee. But it was undeniably Ron, my husband – alive.

He turned his head then and I quickly looked away.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, he looked so concerned I knew I must have looked a complete state.

I nodded and wiped my eyes, trying to force a smile for him.

"Well, that's all the evidence I need." I'd forgotten Mr Bridges was still sat with us. "Listen, can you do me a favour? Don't tell him anything yet, give me time to have a word with him and prepare him. This is going to be a shock for him. Like I know it's been for you." He looked at me kindly, offering me a smile and I suspected he knew there was more to this than him just being an old close friend of ours.

I nodded and dared another peak back at him. Oh Merlin, he was heading this way. I looked to Harry panicked.

"Hey Max," Ron spoke. "Who's your friends?" he looked from Harry to me, offering me a brief smile.

My breath almost stopped…you have no idea what it was like to hear his voice again after all this time. The very same voice that had been such an integral part of my life for 17 years, before I'd lost him. A voice I never expected to hear again. Hearing him and seeing him standing larger than life less than a foot away from me was killing me. I had to physically restrain myself from throwing my arms around him and never, ever letting him go again.

"Ah, just discussing some business. Is the match starting yet?" Max asked Ron.

Ron glanced back towards the bar. "Yeah, think they're about ready." He grinned.

Sweet merlin, his grin, it was still the same. I wanted to cry, this was so damn beautifully painful.

"I'd best go. We're on the dart's team," Max explained. "Got a match tonight."

"Excuse us," Ron smiled at us again and headed back to the bar.

"I'll speak to him in the morning. Okay?" Max whispered before he left our table, and joined Ron at the bar.

I sat staring at Harry in stunned silence after that, not knowing what to say. Harry just looked at me, stunned himself. And then, quite alarmingly, but hardly unexpected, I burst into tears. I was just so overwhelmed with emotions.

"Hey, hey," Harry got up and moved beside me, patting my back. "Come on, let's get out of here before we gain an audience," he suggested. "We'll go back to the B&B and talk." He got up and pulled me after him, leaving a pile of pound notes on the table for our meal.

We walked past Ron on the way out, I tried to stifle my tears as I chanced another look at him. I hadn't expected it to hurt this much.