Chapter 5: The Funeral

The next morning, when Ron stepped out of the shower, Hermione was leaning against the vanity waiting for him. She was wearing her dressing gown, and looking…he wasn't sure. She had a very strange expression on her face, although given what the day held, he supposed that was to be expected.

"Ron," she said softly as he toweled himself off.

"Yeah?" She was worrying her lip, which was a sure sign of uncertainty.

She reached out and touched his beard. "Have you ever considered…never mind." She turned to leave, but Ron caught her by the belt of her dressing gown.

"What?" he said as pulled her too him.

She didn't turn around. "I like the beard, but sometimes, I really miss your face."

He looked past her at his own reflection in the mirror. He'd grown accustomed to his whiskers. He's grown accustomed to not seeing the scar that ran along his jaw. The hair, of course, wouldn't grow there, but if he kept his beard long enough it covered the thick ragged scar.

He leaned down and kissed her neck. "I'll think about it."

They finished getting ready and then Hermione performed the complicated spell to turn a teacup into a Portkey.

Ron felt the familiar tug behind his navel as the Portkey activated. He was relieved they finally landed outside a small white house with a red door. He took him a moment to gain his bearings. Next to him Hermione was doing the same.

She touched his arm. "All right?"

"Yeah," Ron said and followed her up the sidewalk and waited as she knocked on the door.

An elderly man answered. "Hermione," he said. The old man continued talking but Hermione's name was the last thing Ron understood.

Hermione stepped into the foyer and Ron followed. She said something in Bulgarian and gestured toward Ron, the man held his hand out and Ron shook it. This is going to be a very long weekend, he thought. He hadn't considered that everyone here, including Hermione, would be speaking Bulgarian.

Hermione turned to him. "He said Viktor will be along shortly to show us to the hotel."

An old woman came out of a back room with two glasses of water and handed them to Ron and Hermione. The old woman's eyes took in Ron and she gave Hermione a less than favorable look, so Ron guessed she was Viktor's mother. Hermione introduced her as such.

Ron drank his water and tried not to feel too awkward standing around in the foyer of Viktor's parents' house. No one invited them to sit down. As he finished his water and wondered what they were supposed to do next, the telltale popping of Apparition sounded and Viktor appeared in the living room. He walked toward them, saying something that sounded rather harsh to his parents as he did so. He came over and hugged Hermione. She told him how sorry she was. Ron pushed down the surge of jealousy that came from seeing Viktor's arms around her.

"Thank you so much for coming," Viktor said as he released her. He held his hand out to Ron, who shook it. "Really, it means a lot to me." He glared at his parents. "I'm sorry they didn't ask you to sit down, they–"

"We just got here," Hermione said. "Don't worry about it."

Viktor sighed. He took their water glasses and handed them back to his mother with another comment Ron didn't understand, then he turned back to them. "Come on, I'll take you to the hotel."

Ron noted that Viktor's English was much better than it used to be, but he still had a heavy accent. He followed Viktor and Hermione back outside. A small blue car was parked in front of the house and Viktor led them toward it. Viktor opened the passenger side door for Hermione. The interior of the car was quite spacious despite its diminutive exterior.

"New car?" Hermione commented.

Viktor nodded. "Got it last month, the old one just wouldn't hold a charm anymore."

"Did you charm this one yourself?" Ron asked, feeling as though he should contribute something to the conversation and thankful that it was in English.

Viktor shook his head. "My father is very good with mechanical charms, so he did it."

"He did a nice job," Ron said.

"Thank you," Viktor said grimly.

The drive to the hotel was mercifully brief. When they turned into what looked like a burned out garage, Viktor got out of the car tapped twice on a wall with his wand and said something in Bulgarian. The wall melted away. He got back in and drove them into a spacious car park. Clearly the hotel, which towered above them as a gigantic stucco structure, was one end of the Bulgarian equivalent to Diagon Alley. Ron followed Viktor and Hermione into the hotel. As they were checking in, Ron heard someone shout "Viktor!" in a French accent from the entrance.

Viktor turned around and blur of silver and blue threw herself at him. Viktor hugged Gabrielle fiercely as he spun her around. "You made it," he said, holding her face in his hands.

"Of course, I made it. I told you I would," she said, touching his face gently. "I wouldn't leave you alone to face this."

He kissed her forehead. "But such a long way and so much trouble to get a last minute Portkey."

"Please," Gabrielle said. "What good is Fleur working for the Ministry if she can't get her sister a Portkey?"

Viktor hugged her close to him again. "I must send her a thank you."

Ron looked at Hermione and frowned.

She smiled weakly at him and shrugged. She cleared her throat.

Viktor and Gabrielle looked up as if they suddenly realized they weren't alone. "Hullo," Gabrielle said amicably.

"Good to see you," Ron said. "Wish the circumstances were better."

Gabrielle nodded. "Indeed."

"We should get changed," Hermione said. "What time should we meet you back here?"

Viktor looked at his watch. "In an hour."

"All right then," Hermione said.

Ron followed her upstairs, reaching for their bags in his pocket. Once inside the room, he cast the charm to enlarge the luggage. "I told you they would hook up."

Hermione sighed. "So?"

"So? So? They'll probably get married now and we'll have to go to the bloody wedding, and then he'll be part of the family."

"The very extended family," Hermione said. "And I didn't see a ring. Let's not put the cart before the horse, alright?"

Ron shook his head. "You just wait, we're going to be toasting their happiness in no time."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm taking a shower," Ron grumbled.

As he stepped into the hot stream of water and let it sluice over him, he started to reconsider the Gabrielle/Viktor situation. After all, if he was with Gabrielle, chances were that he was over Hermione. That was a good thing. And Hermione had a point, even if they did get married, it's not like they would be spending Christmas at the Burrow or anything. Ron turned off the water and toweled off. He caught his reflection in the mirror and stared at his beard. On impulse, he reached for his wand.

A few minutes later, he stepped out of the lavatory clean and clean-shaven with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hermione had her back to him pulling on heavy black robes. Ron stood quietly watching her dress. As she was buttoning up her robes she turned around and screamed.

Ron laughed as she clutched a hand to her chest.

"You scared me to death," Hermione panted.

Ron grinned at her. "I thought you said you missed my face. I guess you forgot what it looked like."

"No," Hermione said, approaching him. "Just, a little warning would have been nice." She reached out and ran her fingers over his smooth cheek. "You look…younger."

Ron shrugged. "I feel kind of naked. Was my scar always this big?"

Hermione had both hands on his face now, and as her fingers traced the scar that ran the length of his jaw a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Oh, come on, now. None of that." He pulled her into a hug. "Shhh."

She pressed her face into his chest then pulled back. "I'm sorry." She wiped the tears from her face. "I just wasn't expecting…" She shook her head. "You should get dressed, we need to leave in a few minutes."

"I'm sorry." He pulled on his pants. "I should have warned you. It looks pretty bad, yeah?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "No, no, it's not that at all. You're just so…" She touched his face again. "Beautiful."

Ron could feel himself blush. "Come on. I'm sure you mean that in a very manly, beefy bloke sort of way." He flexed his muscles.

Hermione nodded, running her hand over his chest. "Absolutely, you're a very beautiful, very manly, beefy sort of bloke."

Ron smiled and winked at her, but he finished getting dressed.

A few minutes later they met Gabrielle and Viktor in the lobby and Viktor drove them all to the funeral.

xxx

Ron tried not be in the way, and told Hermione she needn't bother trying to translate everything for him. There were a lot of people at the service and everyone was very upset. Todor had apparently been well loved and his sudden death at such a young age had hit everyone very hard. Viktor and Hermione both gave eulogies. Hermione's was very brief, and Ron was pretty sure it had been a poem, but since he didn't speak Bulgarian, he couldn't be sure. Finally, everyone filed past the grave. Those who knew Todor well picked up white roses from a basket, and as they passed, they would drop the flower on to the coffin. Many of them said things as they did so. When it was Ron and Hermione's turn, Hermione said softly, "You should have asked me first," and dropped her rose into the grave. There were tears streaming down her face as they walked back to Viktor's car. The ride to Pietra and Todor's house was silent. Ron spent the next two hours in a daze as everyone around him spoke Bulgarian. Even Gabrielle seemed to know enough to get by, although she didn't speak much and just stood next to Viktor, holding his hand, as others spoke to him. Hermione talked to Pietra for a long time, both of them crying. Ron was relieved when Viktor finally suggested they go back to the hotel. He and Hermione hugged Pietra one last time before they left. The cold night air was a relief. The house had too many people in it and was stuffy and hot. The ride back to the hotel was as silent as the ride from the funeral had been, the only difference being that Gabrielle was pressed tightly against Viktor and he had his arm around her. Ron and Hermione in the back seat were in much the same pose.

As it turned out, they were all staying on the same floor of the hotel on opposite ends of the hallway. At the top of the stairs, before they parted ways, Viktor said to Hermione, "I'm glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad I came."

As they walked back to their room, Ron felt a curious sense of closure, as if Hermione had buried a bit of her past today.

He was barely inside the room before she turned to him, her hands sliding up his chest and pulling him down into a kiss. Ron knew this dance, this sex as an expression of living, that sadly they'd played out many times in their relatively short lives. He knew she'd want it faster than she was really ready to take it, so he worked to slow her down. He stilled her hands and undressed her, pacing himself. She calmed down somewhat when she saw he was determined to take it slow and let him lead. Ron let his hands and mouth take a thorough tour of her body. He brought her off with just his fingers as his mouth lavished attention on her breasts. She shuddered against him, but recovered quickly. "That was fast."

Hermione shrugged. "One of those days." She pushed him over on his back and straddled him. "My turn."

She started with just a soft kiss against his lips, but instead of deepening it, she began to pepper his face with soft kisses on his forehead, his eyelids, his nose and chin, finally she reached the scar and ran her tongue along the length of it. A shiver ran through his whole body.

"Blimey," he whispered, "that was intense."

Hermione nodded. "Every time."

Ron closed his eyes, realizing that he frequently ran his tongue along one of her scars.

He looked up at her and ran a hand along her thigh. "Let me in." She scooted down his body until she could shift her hips and get him inside. He thrust up into her and smiled as she took his length. Suddenly, he wanted to say a million things to her. He wanted to tell her how happy he was to be married to her, how much he loved her, how much he loved having his cock buried inside her, how impressed he was with everything she could do, how proud he was that she picked him, how sorry he was that he'd ever let her go, but none of the words would form. So he gripped her hips and started to stroke in and out of her in a slow rhythm. She let him go for a moment and then began to match him stroke for stroke, and he wanted to tell her how no one had ever been as good with him as she was. He wanted to say the other women could never really get in sync like her, it was always just a little off, or they'd just lie there and let him do all the work, but all that came out was, "I love to fuck you."

She smiled down at him. "You say such sweet things, Ron. The feeling's mutual." She clenched herself tighter around him.

"You're bloody brilliant," he groaned.

"That's what they tell me," she quipped.

"Oh," Ron growled. "For that you're on your knees." He slipped out of her and dragged her to the side of the bed.

She let out startled squeal. He slid back in and wrapped his arm around her hips pulling her tight against him. Her protest dissolved into a stream of nonsense syllables. He wasn't going to last long like this. He cupped her sex with his hand and just pressed, all his finesse long gone. She didn't seem to mind. As she started to fall apart, Ron pounded into her, letting go of rhythm in favor of need. He spilled into her and they both collapsed on the bed. Ron leaned over and kissed her back, then reached for his wand and cast a cleansing charm on both of them. He stretched and looked at Hermione.

She reached out and placed a warm hand on his chest. "I love you so much."

He picked up her hand and kissed it. "The feeling's mutual." He stood and pulled the sheets back and she rolled over and under them. He got in on the other side. As her breathing evened out to a slow deep rhythm, Ron realized he wouldn't be able to sleep.