Oops! So sorry this is late, I totally forgot to edit it! Please be aware there is a lot of swearing in this chapter (mostly from Ron and his love of the F word! :p)

Thank you, as always, for your generous reviews. There are some lovely people here who kindly take the time to review each chapter - thank you!

Disclaimer: I'm not J K Rowling...if I was I might be getting paid to do something I love, instead of being broke and unemployed all the time!

Chapter Sixteen

We fixed lunch between us and soon sat down at the kitchen table to a hot bowl of tomato soup and huge slabs of crusty bread – the weather outside had turned decidedly cool and spring like again, and a hearty lunch warmed us through.

"Lavender," he suddenly muttered under his breath.

"What?" I asked, my full spoon of soup pausing half way to my mouth. Though, I had caught what he said really and knew he wasn't just commenting on the colour of the flowers on the china we were using.

"Lavender, erm…something. I went out with her, didn't I?" He asked me, setting his spoon down.

"Yes," I forced a smile, the soup slowly draining from my still paused spoon. "For a few months." I added and quickly scooped up another spoonful of soup and shoved it into my mouth, hoping he wouldn't ask anymore about it if I couldn't answer him.

He grinned wryly then, as though a sudden a memory came to him. "She was a bit of a nightmare," he laughed. "And I was a right prat," he shook his head at the images he was seeing. "Was I really like that?" He asked me, looking a bit mortified by whatever memory was playing out in his head right now.

"Obnoxious and rather public?" I asked, sounding a little annoyed. "Yes."

"Ah," he seemed to realise this might be a touchy subject for me. "Why on earth did I go out with her? I mean, when you were. We were, well, why weren't we?" He asked, frowning into his bowl.

I shrugged. "You tell me," I replied. "I think maybe you were trying to prove a point or something. And you and I, well, neither of us had worked up the courage to say how we felt about each other yet. So, I suppose we were as bad as each other," I sighed at the realisation he wasn't totally to blame for that whole débâcle.

Great, he'd remembered his ex-girlfriend. He'd remember her, a girl he'd once claimed had never meant much to him, someone he'd only been with for four mere months. And yet he couldn't remember much about me – the woman he'd insisted had been the only true love in his life. The woman he'd been with for 10 years before he disappeared. The woman he married. But, I suddenly realised, he had actually married me. We had children together, a life. I doubt he'd said more than five words to Lavender since the aftermath of the war.

He nodded thoughtfully and continued eating his lunch, every so often he'd laugh to himself and I couldn't help but wonder what he was seeing in his head and remembering.

"Can I ask you something?" He wiped his hands together to brush the breadcrumbs off when he was done.

"Of course," I nodded, pushing my own empty bowl away.

"Last night. That was real, wasn't it?"

I inhaled sharply, wondering when that was going to come up. "Yes," I confessed, still feeling a bit guilty, as though I had taken advantage of him. "And, I'm sorry I…"

"I thought so," he spoke over me. "I knew it couldn't have just been a dream, it was too real and the feelings were too...terrifying."

"Terrifying?" I squeaked. Kissing me had been terrifying?

"Yeah. I mean, you, you really were…tortured, weren't you? And I couldn't do anything to stop it. All that, it really did happen, didn't it?"

"Oh," this wasn't about the kiss then. "Yes. It, it happened." I whispered.

"Why?" he wanted to know. "Why was that sadistic bitch doing that to you?"

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. I was going to need a lot of those to talk through the memories of that year with him, to talk of things that had happened to us. "We'll…get to it." I promised him. "It happened in the year leading up to the final battle."

He began fiddling with the crumbs on the table, pushing them around with the tip of his finger. "Why do I get the feeling that all the other stuff we've talked about already, everything we already went through, that it's nothing compared to what you're about to tell me?" he asked.

"Because, it kind of is," I agreed. "I mean, we'd been through some horrid, frightening times already and lost friends. But that year, I suppose it became more personal. It wasn't just Harry going through the majority of it alone, it was the three of us. And what you remembered last night, those were some of my very worst memories." I confessed.

He gulped then, rubbed his hands over his face and stood from the table, busying himself with clearing away our lunch and putting the kettle on for more tea. He was definitely his Mother's son – she always seemed to have the kettle on, and I smiled briefly.

"We can leave it if you want to, I mean for now. I know it's already been a rough morning. So, we could do this another day or…"

"No," he turned back to me, shaking his head vehemently. "I mean, might as well get it all out there now – I'll only wonder and worry about it now anyway. It's just, I'm scared I'll find out the nightmares I've had…that they're not just you know, silly bad dreams," he shrugged. "That they're terrible memories. But, I need you to tell me Hermione. I have to know all of it now."

"Okay," I nodded. I could understand his reasoning – it wouldn't be fair to have him wait and worry about what else he'd find out. I just wasn't sure if he was ready to hear all this – his nightmare last night had been horrific for him, what if this stirred up more bad memories that taunted his sleep? But perhaps we needed to talk about all the bad things, so he could push past them and then maybe we could focus on the fun times more. That didn't mean talking about it was going to be any easier. "I suppose I should start with Horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" He looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes. "Isn't that like, really dark magic?"

I nodded. "Yes. And that's how Voldemort survived. How he was able to come back." I began to explain and continued with the reason we were on the run that year, how we were hunting for them, to destroy them in the hopes it would bring about his defeat. "Of course Harry didn't want us to go with him at first."

"He didn't?"

"No," I shook my head. "He always seemed to think this was his solitary battle and we didn't need to get involved. That we could stay safely away. I don't think it dawned on him that we had been involved the moment we became friends with him. Anyway, after awhile, I think even he realised he needed us, the both of us."

"Shall we take this through to the lounge?" he asked, nodding towards the teapot he has just brewed.

I nodded and followed him through. Once we were settled on the sofa again, cradling mugs of tea, I continued the story, starting from the very beginning. When we went to collect Harry from his Aunt and Uncle's house and how his brother had lost his ear, and how we'd all lost Alastor Moody that night. He said he'd had a few weird dreams about falling off brooms and wand battles in the sky, so maybe that's what he'd been remembering. I agreed with him.

"So, is that how I got this scar?" He asked, rubbing his shoulder absently as I'd told our story of our escape from the Ministry, after stealing the locket.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm sorry. I tried to fix you up as best I could, but…" I shrugged helplessly. I had only been an 18 year old girl doing the best I could with the knowledge I had. Despite what they both thought at the time, I didn't know everything and nor was I capable of doing everything.

"That's what you meant about me making a habit of splinching myself, wasn't it?" He recalled a conversation some weeks back when we'd still been at the farm.

"Yes. Although, technically you didn't splinch yourself this time. That was my fault, I panicked and, I'm sorry."

Ron laughed, as though I was being absurd. "I reckon you saved our necks, again. Why are you sorry?" He cocked an eyebrow and I smiled at him.

I spoke a little of our time living in the tent, how difficult it had been at times, we were tired, hungry and completely cut off from the world for some time. We'd managed to track down and successfully acquire one Horcrux, but were no closer to destroying it and all three of us were becoming despondent, something not helped at all by the effect of that damn locket.

"Harry had us all take turns in wearing it, to keep it safe. You know, after what we'd been through to get it. But, it was horrible. It was just so evil and I hated wearing it. It made things much more tense between us all and we argued a lot more. It was just…"

"I left, didn't I?" he asked, quietly. "I left you and Harry alone in that bloody tent?" He was avoiding eye contact, instead pulling at a thread on his socks, where his feet were tucked under himself.

"Yes." I whispered simply. "But...it, it wasn't your fault. You'd had that locket on all day and all of us were becoming increasingly frustrated that things weren't moving faster. None of us knew what to do next really. It seemed worse for you. It…"

He was shaking his head sadly. "Don't make excuses for me. I left you because I was a bloody spoilt, selfish idiot."

"No," I shook my head sadly. "I, I never thought that."

He looked up at me and merely raised both eyebrows, somehow knowing that wasn't entirely true.

"Okay," I sighed. "At the time I was so mad with you. I ran after you, calling your name and you just, left. Didn't even look back. I hated you and yet I was so sad without you, I missed you. Things were never the same while you were gone and I was so bloody angry when you turned up and acted so nonchalant about it all. Yet, secretly I was thrilled you were okay, that you were here, that you came back. And though it took time, I forgave you. I think the little speech about the balls of light helped," I smiled, wryly, remembering that.

"Balls of light?" He pulled a face.

"You don't remember that? The deluminator? It brought you back to us. To me. See, that's why I forgave you. You might have left us, but, you came back, and you didn't have to. You were safe, with your brother. Yet, you came back, you chose to return and help. Though, I'll admit, I was a bit of a cow to you at first." I confessed and we both smiled at one another.

"So, what was this delumin…thing?"

"Deluminator. It belonged to Dumbledore - he left it for you, in his will. I have never really figured out how it works. It can turn lights on and -"

"- off," he cut in. "It sucked the light out of things and could put them into other light sources?" he asked me. I nodded, with a smile that he was remembering something else. "I used to play with it, in my pocket?"

"Yes, you drove Harry and I insane!" I laughed.

"But, how did it bring me back to you?"

I shrugged. "You said you heard my voice say your name from it. That a ball of light appeared when you clicked it and it led you back to us, to me. I, I've always thought…"

"It... was because I loved you. Because my hearts desire was to be with you?"

"Yes," I gasped, noting that was the first time he had ever said anything about having feelings for me.

Ron seemed to have realised what he'd just disclosed and his ears flared up. I had to smile, I'd always found that adorable – the tell tale sign he was getting angry or embarrassed. "Erm…er, what, what did you mean before?" he stammered. "When you said that it was worse for me, with the locket?" He was fiddling with his sock again.

"Oh," I shook my head, realising we were back to this. "Well, you have to remember we were in a tent, a rather shabby tent with the barest of necessities and hardly anything to eat at all. You'd never had to go hungry before. I mean, you always had your Mum's good cooking or had three square meals at Hogwarts, and, with your appetite," I smiled at him. "Well, I just imagined it was harder for you to deal with."

"That's it? I left you both because I was hungry? Am I such a wimp that I can't make it on a hungry stomach."

"No, of course not. But it certainly didn't help your moods. You've always been rather...hot tempered and easily riled, so extreme hunger did nothing to help that. Plus, you know, my parents were safe out of the way as far as I knew, they were protected. Harry had no family he very much cared for and even then his Aunt and Uncle and cousin Dudley, had been moved somewhere safe. But you, on top of everything we were doing, you had your family out there to think about every day. A family that was known for being supportive of Muggles and Muggle-borns as well as being friendly with the most wanted person – Harry Potter. That can't have been easy for you to deal with, that constant worry. I mean, I know Harry and I cared for them and others too and he was probably just as worried as you about Ginny. But they're your family and they'd already been through so much." I paused.

"Yeah, I guess." he nodded thoughtfully.

"And of course that evil locket intensified all your most negative emotions. It was truly an evil piece of dark magic – it contained a piece of Voldemort himself after all. It took your worst fears, your inner demons and magnified them, played mind tricks on you. You always felt as though you weren't good enough, had terrible self esteem issues. So that damn thing messing with your mind, coupled with everything else you were having to think about and what we were doing. Well," I shrugged. "I always just assumed it was harder for you."

"Still, that's not a very good excuse for leaving you, surely it affected you both too? If it was so evil? The locket I mean. And, it can't have been much fun being cold and hungry for the pair of you either."

"No, it wasn't. And the locket did play with my mind. But, it's in the past now Ron, it doesn't matter – we know it was all lies. When you came back you helped, eagerly. You brought back vital information for us, information that prevented us from being caught or…worse. And, well, you did rescue Harry and destroy that blasted locket." I added.

"I did?" his eyes widened.

I nodded. "You pulled Harry from a frozen lake." I went on to explain how the sword of Gryffindor had finished up down there, and Harry had gone after it, but the locket fought back and almost drowned him. "Then Harry had you destroy it, he said it had to be you. And you did. I know it put up a fight, but…"

"It was horrible," he suddenly gasped, his eyes far away as though he was back in that frost covered forest, fighting with the locket again. "What came out of the locket I mean. It…it's like it read my mind. You're right, my very worst fears and phobias. There were thousands of spiders all over me," he gave a shudder. "And…and it told me things. That, my mother never wanted me, how she'd wanted a daughter and I was a huge disappointment when I was born. That I was the least loved because I hadn't been the girl she wanted. And that, that you preferred Harry over me. That you'd never want me. It spoke in your voice and I saw you kissing…him. I…I…" he stammered and broke off as tears came to his eyes. He sniffed loudly and turned his head to wipe his face on his sleeve. "Fuck," he hissed to himself, trying to regain his composure, feeling like a fool for crying about it.

"Hey, it's okay," I inched closer along the sofa and touched his back, rubbed his shoulder. "I understand. It told me some horrid stuff too. But, it lied Ron. It wanted to hurt you as much as possible and it found your deepest fears to taunt you with. But it was all complete lies." I tried to reassure him.

"What did it tell you then?" He looked up at me, using his T-shirt to wipe his face.

I bit my bottom lip, I'd never told anyone. I hadn't let on to Ron, but then he'd never told me exactly what had happened when he destroyed the locket before either. Not even after the war and we started on this relationship. Not even when things got serious or we got married. He never told me and I never asked, simply because he had never asked me. But now, I couldn't ignore his request when he'd confided in me.

"It said. Told me that…" I paused, took a deep breath and then started again. "It made me believe that I hadn't done the spell well enough on my parents, that they were wandering around Australia lost and confused. It tried to convince me I'd never see them again, that we'd never get through this and it would be all my fault because I didn't really know what I was doing and all my plans were useless. And, it said, you'd never want me the way I wanted you, played on all the worst things I thought of myself, all my flaws. How you could never want someone like me – a neurotic, control freak Muggle-born who thought she knew everything. You're right, it was bloody horrible." I shook my head and tried to smile wryly, before realising I was crying too. "Sorry," I sniffed and rushed off to find some tissues.

"I'm sorry," he muttered when I came back, wiping my eyes. "I, I shouldn't have asked. I know this is hard for you to go over."

"It's okay," I shrugged. "It's just...we've never really told each other what those bloody Horcruxes did to us."

"Never?" He looked utterly surprised.

I shook my head.

"Oh."

"I'll make us some more tea," I suddenly muttered, realising my mug had gone cold. I could have done a simple re-heating charm on the mugs, but I think we both needed a little breather. In the kitchen, I washed my face with cold water and I heard Ron bounding up the stairs, probably to use the bathroom and do the same thing.

When I returned, I glossed over a few unimportant details, though he chuckled when I mentioned Luna and her Dad. He seemed to remember the nargles, which amused him. "I sometimes call our son a nargle," I smiled fondly. "Luna said they're very mischievous, and well, you know what he's like." We both laughed.

And then I reached the part where we were captured by the snatchers and taken prisoners to Malfoy Manor. "This is when that…that bitch hurt you. Isn't it?" he asked, hesitantly.

I nodded, rubbing my arm, over the numerous scars she had left there, absently.

"That dream, last night. It was bloody horrible. I mean, just feeling that helpless and scared. I couldn't get to you, I didn't know how to save you and I just kept thinking I was never going to see you again, that I'd never bloody be able to tell you how much I loved you. I vowed if I ever got out of there, I'd make sure I told you," he gave me a brief, sheepish little smile. I returned it, wondering if he realised he'd just confessed he was remembering having feelings for me, that he loved me. "But…" he continued, "I reckon the actual event, it was a hundred times worse than that dream, especially for you. Wh-what did she do to you?" he asked, quietly, unsure if he really wanted to know or if I'd be able to talk about it.

I stiffened, not wanting to think about it all again. "She…tortured me," I answered simply. "She thought we'd been in her vault at Gringotts and stolen the sword. She wanted to know how we got it and," I paused. "She was an evil, sadistic bitch Ron. She was cruel and unhinged - she actually enjoyed the torture. As evil as any Death Eaters were, as evil as Voldermort was, Bellatrix," I shuddered at her name, "just enjoyed hurting people. I think it gave her a thrill. The cruciatus curse was her favourite," I muttered.

"She didn't?" He looked up sharply, hatred and revulsion towards her evident in his eyes. "She did that, to you? Fuckin' bitch," he hissed, shaking his head sadly. "That wasn't it though, was it? Those scars," he nodded to where I was still rubbing my arm.

"No," I shook my head, a lone tear dripped off my face and landed on my leg. "She cut me, kicked me, yanked me about by my hair. But, we got out of there," I was trying to steer the conversation away from this. It was still a painful reminder, even now. Just the mention of it was almost enough to feel her blade slicing into my skin again, to smell her breath on my face.

"How did you do it?" he asked, almost in awe. "I mean, not give in to her."

"You," I whispered. "Thoughts of you. I could hear you yelling for me and I just concentrated on that. Though, I knew even if I had told her, it wouldn't save me. I was a Mudblood, I was less than worthless to her. She'd have just killed me because she could. But, then Dobby saved us."

"The house elf?" He looked slightly amused at that.

I nodded, giving a little painful smile at his memory. "He unscrewed the chandelier which fell on her. Then he disapparated us out of there, only…only," I swallowed. "She threw her dagger at us as we left, it hit Dobby, and…he died." I whispered.

"Poor guy." Ron shook his head sadly. "Owe that little elf our lives, I reckon."

"We do. He's buried, near your brother Bill's house, which is where we apparated to." I explained. "We were there for awhile, recovering. Fleur patched me up and, after awhile, we went on to plan the next stage in our hunt." I knew I was being somewhat flippant about that whole situation, but I honestly didn't want to talk about it. It was too much for me to remember all that - the pain I'd suffered through after, the nightmares that had haunted me. And I realised one of the reasons I had kept putting off telling Ron any of this was because I still hated talking about it.

I explained all about the break in at Gringotts, how we knew after Bellatrix's irrational reaction that something must be hidden in her vault – possibly another Horcrux. And then how we escaped from that. Suddenly he'd remembered the dragon.

"Bloody hell! Does our son know we flew on a dragon?" He laughed. "Reckon that should impress him."

I smiled. "I've told him, but I think he just thinks it's a funny bedtime story I made up. I'm afraid your brother is the hero where dragons are concerned," I sighed.

I told him how we got to Hogsmeade, how Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, helped us and then got us into Hogwarts after Harry had seen into Voldemort's mind that another Horcrux was there. "And then of course, the big battle began."

I launched into the recount of the battle, trying to give him as much detail as I could, trying not to leave anything out so he could understand what we'd truly been through. As usual, once I got talking, he remembered a few things by himself – his family arriving to join in the fight and McGonagall evacuating all the students under age. I explained how Harry had gone with Luna to find the missing Horcrux, whilst the pair of us realised that, having lost the sword, we needed something to destroy them with. We'd ventured into the Chamber of secrets and retrieved fangs from the Basilisk, enough of its venom still contained within to destroy a Horcrux. How I had destroyed the cup we'd stolen from the vaults of Gringotts.

I didn't mention the kiss. Maybe it was childish, maybe it was just hopeful thinking, but I wanted him to remember that by himself. No, I needed him to remember that. Our very first kiss. The first time either of us had been brave enough to act upon our feelings. I needed Ron to remember that because it meant something to him. Not because I told him about it.

"Fuckin' evil git!" He suddenly hissed upon remembering Snape doing a bunk. "Bloody, fuckin' coward!"

"Ron…" I began. How did I explain that Snape hadn't been the man we'd all thought he was, that he had actually been on our side and everything he'd done had been in some way, for the greater good. Oh yes, he'd been a mean, spiteful and bitter man, I wasn't denying that. No matter his agenda, there hadn't been any need for him to have been so vindictive towards the students or hated Harry on sight simply because he'd reminded him of James. But, he had fought for us in the end, had been very brave. "He…he wasn't as bad as you think, he was a double agent. I know he was a mean old git, but honestly, he was on our side." I left it at that for now. If he didn't remember anything else, he could always ask Harry about it, he knew more than I did on that matter anyway.

I talked him through the whole chaos of teachers, students and family defending the castle. Students being evacuated, the gargoyles and suits of armour being brought to life to help the cause – the whole battle waging on us.

The moment I mentioned our venture into the room of requirement, for the lost Diadem, he remembered the scuffle and then the fire and our hasty retreat, and then, "Draco Fucking Malfoy!" He hissed with menace. "What the bloody fuck did we rescue him for?" he spat. "He was a complete tosspot throughout school, a right two-faced bastard and then Harry saves him? Why?"

"Because Harry isn't like Draco or all those others, he has morals and, look," I inhaled deeply and tucked my hair back behind my ears. "That really doesn't matter right now."

"Well, please at least tell me he got what he deserved? That someone at least smacked him one or he got thrown in Azkaban?" He sat looking at my face when I didn't answer him. "He didn't, did he?" he seemed to realise.

I shook my head. "They were brought before the Wizengamot and they were tried for their involvement. His father served a few years in Azkaban earlier. But, because they helped with the names of missing Death Eaters, they were given a pardon. Though, they pretty much fell from grace after that, lost their status in the wizard community." I shrugged. Even I felt that wasn't quite justice for their involvement with Voldemort, but I'd come to terms with all that now. I'd had to let it go.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed and rolled his eyes, knowing he got off lightly. "Anyway," he waved it away, before he became consumed with vengeful thoughts. "What happened then?" he asked, as thought listening to an interesting story, not something he had lived through.

"Then…then," I stammered, remembering what came next. "Fred…" I whispered, looking up at him with the threat of tears.

Ron's eyes widened as he looked up at me. "He died in the battle?" he whispered, reverently.

I nodded and then panicked as Ron seemingly crumpled in front of me. He gave a huge sob and drew his knees up to his chest. "Oh fuckin' Merlin," he whispered, burying his head in his knees. "Fuckin' hell…" he repeated. "I…remember," he mumbled, giving a shuddering breath. "I remember it…the wall, smoke, Percy screaming. Fuckin' hell." he clasped his hands tightly over his head and I heard him sniff loudly.

I was at his side in an instant, a hand gently rubbing his back as he sobbed for his lost brother. He turned his head then, dropped his knees and flung his arms around me, crying into my chest, clinging to me in the same near desperate way he had last night. I knew this was going to be hard for him. We'd all had years to grieve for Fred, to come to terms with losing him. For Ron, it was as though he'd only just lost a brother. He was seeing it all again for the first time. "I'm sorry," I whispered, rubbing his back, attempting to comfort him as I shed a few tears for his pain. "I'm sorry," I repeated, not knowing what else to say. I just held him and let him cry and grieve.

Some time passed as we each silently remembered the fallen heroes of the battle. After Fred, he recalled Tonks and Remus. Colin Creevey and seeing Lavender attacked by the great revolting werewolf, Greyback. At least I could tell him she'd made it. She was badly injured, she still bore scars and suffered some side effects, but she was alive. He merely nodded at that news, one life saved seemed too few out of those we'd lost.

Ron took himself into the back garden after awhile, he said he needed some air. I suspected he needed to go and rant and rage at the world for its unfairness and I didn't deny him his right to do that. It wasn't fair that we'd lost Fred, or Tonks, or Remus. It wasn't fair we'd lost so many innocent lives when people like the Malfoy's got off free. I knew that. But I'd had years to come to terms with everything that had happened and some therapy had helped. But, as he remembered these things, they were all fresh for him again and I knew he was going to be emotionally spent tonight. This was bloody rough on him.

Whilst he was outside, I made us some more tea, and found some of the cake we'd made for tea yesterday that was left over. Tea and chocolate cake were good for heartache, I decided. Ron seemed appreciative when he came back in and tucked into his slice silently.

Eventually, when he was ready, I continued the recount of that dreadful night. Our fight to find Nagini, knowing we needed to kill the snake – thinking he was the last Horcrux. And then Snape's death at the hands of said snake, ordered by Voldemort. "Did he know he'd betrayed him? That Snape had betrayed Voldemort I mean?" Ron asked.

"No," I shook my head sadly. "I don't think so, Snape's death was just a convenience for him. He thought Snape was the master of the Elder wand. He needed to defeat him, in order to gain power of the wand. That was the only reason he died at that time."

Ron shook his head, unable to believe anyone could be that cold and callous. That death and murder came so easily and were so natural to someone was scary.

And now we were down to the final hours. When Harry had learnt he was the last, though unintentional, Horcrux. How he knew he had to sacrifice himself in order to beat Voldemort. None of us knew he'd gone into the forest to meet his presumed doom. And then the moment where we all thought Harry was dead.

"Wait, so…Harry died. But then he came back?" Ron asked, scratching his head.

"No," I smiled patiently and touched his knee where his leg was folded underneath himself. "You see, when Voldemort used the killing curse on Harry that night, it destroyed the Horcrux that was in Harry. A piece of Voldemort's soul had latched itself onto Harry when he'd tried to kill him as a baby. He was the Horcrux that Voldemort had never intended to make"

"Oh. Right. So, why'd he fake it then?"

"He had to!" I almost squeaked. That was obvious, wasn't it? "If he knew Harry was still alive, he'd have cursed him again, and well…that time he would have killed him and it would have been all over for everyone. Harry had to fake it and wait until the right moment."

"Oh, yeah," he nodded, feeling foolish for not realising. "So, was that all the Horcruxes then? I lost count," he admitted with a wry grin.

"Just the snake to go. He had it protected in this magical bubble. Anyway, Neville managed to kill the snake in all the chaos of the giants and the centaurs arriving."

"Hold on…Neville? As in Longbottom?"

"You remember him?" I smiled. This talk may have been painful and fraught with emotion, but it was doing wonders for his memories.

"Yeah," he scoffed. "I remember him as a rather plump, totally insecure, clumsy kid. I mean, a lovely guy, good friend and a kind heart. But, well, not exactly a hero." He shrugged almost apologetically.

I half laughed. "He grew up Ron, I think our friendship and guidance in the DA helped his confidence. Don't forget he helped us that time in the Ministry. And he'd been fighting back all that year at Hogwarts whilst we were on the run. Protecting students and standing up to the Death Eaters in the school."

"Oh," he nodded as he gained some recollection. "Well, that was good. Good on you Neville!" He cheered for his old friend.

I continued with all the action that unfolded next. Hundreds of reinforcements arriving in the shape of family, friends, villagers of Hogsmeade, the house elfs and centaurs. The battle going on in the great hall, the duels happening everywhere. Death eaters trying to make a run for it. The Malfoy's searching for their son. And then Bellatrix advancing on Ginny.

"Mum killed Bellatrix." He remembered with awe. It wasn't a question, but a statement.

I nodded with a small satisfied smile. "Oh, she did. Quite spectacularly I might add."

"Way to go Mum!" He threw his fist in the air and gave a little whoop, pride evident for his mother. I smiled indulgently, thinking his Mum would be quite pleased with the comment.

Finally, after hours of wading through painful, gruelling memories, I was coming to the end of our story. Our story of the months, years we'd had to endure in the clutches of such evil. Of all the horrors we'd lived through. All the innocent lives lost and it had all come down to one thing. "And then Voldemort fell. Died a mortal man who never showed any remorse for his actions, so full of himself he never once saw the flaws in his plan."

"Just like that then, it was all over?" Ron looked at me. "All because of a bloody wand?"

"Well, yes," I shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, you have to remember that with all the Horcruxes destroyed, he was just as mortal as you and I by then. And Harry was, is," I corrected myself, "a talented wizard. I think he could have beat him if it had come down to a duel, if the wand hadn't failed Voldemort. And of course Harry wasn't alone. He never had been," I smiled.

"Wow," he whispered and slunk back in his seat.

"Yeah," I replied, suddenly feeling exhausted. It had been a long day and I felt an emotional wreck, so I don't know how Ron felt. I looked at him, the tracks of tears still evident on his face, his eyes red and puffy from crying and he looked how I felt.

"I don't get one thing though," he spoke up.

"What's that?" I asked him wearily.

"Well, if Dumbledore knew all this, about the Horcruxes I mean. He could have been tracking them down years ago and, well, maybe we'd never had to suffer those months,"

"But he didn't know, not really. He first suspected something when Harry destroyed the diary. But he still needed Slughorn's memory to be sure. Plus, as awful as it sounds, Harry needed to be old enough and capable enough to fight him – he would still have had to make that sacrifice either way. There was always that part of the soul inside Harry."

"Oh," Ron sat back heavily against the cushions. "Yeah, forgot that part."

"You did great today," I told him proudly, rubbing his shoulder over his soft cotton T-shirt in a sign of encouragement. Ron merely nodded at me, becoming lost in his thoughts. I wondered if he was coming up with more questions for me, but he remained silent.

We sat in silence for a while. I knew it was going to take Ron some time to digest all of this. Even though he had remembered a lot of it himself, many moments had been new revelations to him. And he'd need to grieve for his brother all over again. I felt a huge pang for him, he didn't deserve that. Quietly, I edged closer, so I was by his side and took hold of his hand, wanting to offer him some comfort. He glanced down at my fingers as they curled through his and he squeezed my hand slightly before giving a deep shuddering sigh and settled against my shoulder.

After some time, we sat murmuring about the people we'd lost, I shared some of my memories of them with him. Some he was able to recall as well. And we shed a few more tears for them all – Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Dobby, Fred, Tonks, Remus, Colin, even a little sadness was spared for Snape. I knew Ron didn't know the full story about him yet, all he remembered was him being a cruel and mean man, but I was sure he'd come to forgive him. As I had, in time.

"Oh Merlin!" I suddenly sprang from the sofa with a gasp.

"What?" Ron looked worried, glancing nervously around us.

"I didn't realise how late it was. It's almost dark." I looked out the window where the garden was already bathed in twilight. Neither of us had noticed we'd been sat in almost darkness. "I should go get the kids." I felt distraught that I had forgotten about them and began scurrying about to find my shoes and fix my face.

Ron inhaled deeply as he stood from the sofa, stretching out stiff muscles from our afternoon ensconced there. "I'll go," he offered, stretching his long arms over his head. "I want a quick word with Mum anyway," he added mysteriously. "You could make a start on dinner then?" he suggested.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked him. It had been a trying day for him and I knew his emotions were all over the place. And his eyes still looked swollen and red to me.

He nodded. "Yeah. Erm...I want. I want to see Fred's grave," he muttered.

"Oh Ron," I almost cried for him. "Let me come with you," I offered and reached for him.

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'll just ask Mum where it is and…I'd kinda like a few minutes alone with…him," he confessed.

"Well, okay then," I gave in reluctantly. I didn't want him to go through this alone, but he knew what he needed better than me. "You take as long as you want, okay?" I offered him a watery smile, when what I really wanted to do was hug him. It was bloody ridiculous after that scintillating kiss last night that I was still nervous about touching him. "I'll make dinner and keep it warmed until you all get back."

He nodded, whilst pulling his shoes on. And then with a quick squeeze of my hand, he stepped into the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder and with a clear call of 'The Burrow', he disappeared in a swirl of green.

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