AN: hello again! I hope you guys like this chapter. Two chapters in one week, just to make up for the last.. year. Enjoy lovelies, I will (hopefully) see you soon!
"You have to flip the pancake, Ron, not toss it in the air like it's a quaffle!" Hermione walked over to where Ron was doing an attempt at flipping the morning pancakes muggle style, which he obviously wasn't very good at. Ron grinned, and stepped away so that she could take over. Instead of setting the table –Hermione was doing just that before she saw Ron's failure- he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Hermione flip the pancakes with full concentration. He still couldn't believe the change she had gone through. One day she was lying unconscious in Will's old bed, the next day she was happier than she had been in ages. Not that he was complaining. He loved the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes when she laughed, the little wheeze she made when she couldn't control her laughter anymore, the way her hair seemed to sense her happiness by leaving her bun in random curls, embellishing Hermione's delicate features even more.
It didn't really go better in only a day, but time didn't matter anymore. After being knocked out for nearly 2 full days, Hermione had woken up again. Ron still didn't fully understand what had made her faint like that, but Molly had muttered something that sounded like some sort of stress syndrome. Hermione had come out of Will's room that evening, to eat with them. She had been pale, and had avoided everyone's eyes. Ron couldn't look at it, so he had left the dinner table before he had even been finished eating. Instead of going to his room, he had gone outside. There were too many memories inside the Burrow. There were too many happy moments that had passed by in the blink of an eye. It still hurt Ron to think of how easy things had been before the war. Before Voldemort had changed their lives. Took his brother away. He had felt the by now familiar rush of anger wash over him, and he had clenched his hands into fists.
How many times had he imagined himself standing in front of that bastard? How many times had he imagined killing Voldemort with his bare hands, before he was able to do so much harm to the ones he loves? He had been feeling restless ever since he had stopped fighting. Not that he had ever really stopped fighting anyway. The real struggles had begun after the war. His mum, George, Harry, everyone had been so bloody fucked up. Ron had never been good with talking about feelings. Heck, it had taken him 4 bloody years to kiss Hermione! He did try to help everyone, but most of the time he just escaped to the back garden. A spot under one of the willows at the edge of their property had become his sanctuary, and that's where he was heading.
He had known he should talk to Hermione as soon as possible, because his opinion and his thoughts were probably the only ones she would really care about. But to talk to her, he had to understand what exactly he was thinking, and he was far from being there.
He loves Hermione, that was the only thing he had known for sure. He would do anything in the world to make her happy again, no matter what it took, she would be happy again in the end. Even if that meant that he wouldn't be with her, if she wanted to be alone, or loved someone else. As long as she'd be happy, he would accept it. Not that he thought she loved someone else. Thinking back to their kiss in the kitchen made him smile, no matter how shitty their situation was now. The feeling of her curls in his fists, her body pressed against his. Her lips, softer than anything he had ever felt before, working their way down his neck. The way she had nibbled his lower lip, bold in that moment of recklessness. He had thought about the kiss a hundred times, and he couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again. If only she would let him fix her.
Harry and Ron had talked a lot when Hermione was unconscious, and it had left Ron feeling a lot more confident about the cause of her fainting. First of all, he knew that Hermione hadn't fainted because of him. Harry had told him that he had seen Hermione fall down, or stumble, a couple of times before the accident. He had decided not to tell anyone, because he had thought Hermione would figure herself out soon enough. Obviously, that was not the case, but knowing that it hadn't been him, or the immensely awkward situation they had been in, showed that the cause was something deeper. It didn't make her prognosis look any brighter, but it had at least showed him where to look. He didn't want to admit it, but Ron thought it had been Bellatrix bloody Lestrange who did this. He still heard Hermione's screams every time he tried to fall asleep, and something as cruel as that had to have left some scars. Scars that, hopefully, were able to heal, with the right treatment.
"Ron, are you just going to stand there, staring into space, or are you actually going to help me make breakfast ready?" Ron snapped back to reality, and saw Hermione standing in front of him, hands on her hips, head tilted sideways. He couldn't stop his blood flowing to his face, and soon his head felt like he was going to explode. Hermione just rolled her eyes at him, and started setting the table. Just looking at her slim figure, he forgot all the worries that had haunted him just a minute ago. In two long strides he was standing directly behind Hermione, and his large hands found the dip of her waist without a single moment of hesitation. He heard Hermione sigh, and felt her body rest against his. The smell of her, warm and familiar, found its way up to his nose, and his intoxicated mind couldn't think anymore. Hermione slowly turned in his grip, so that she was now facing him. She was still holding a fork, but her other hand soon found his way up his body, to rest in the crook of his neck.
"This isn't exactly helping, is it?" Hermione said. Her voice was airy, as if she had just stepped off a broomstick after an intense game of quidditch. Her warm breath on his chest made his fingers tremble, so he dug them a bit deeper into the small of her back. "Do you want me to get the spoons?" He whispered, watching her. Hermione didn't say anything, but instead stood on her toes, bringing her face closer to his. "I think we can manage this breakfast without spoons, don't you? Unless you want to spend the last precious minutes we have alone by getting spoons no-one ever uses anyways.." Her face was now only mere inches away from Ron's, and he had found it hard to breathe. He took a shaky breath, and that was enough for Hermione to close the distance between them.
Her lips on his felt like coming home after a long day. They felt like seeing the Chudley Cannons win the world cup, like eating Molly's marinated chicken. They belonged right where they were now, her upper lip snug between both of his. He pushed her body even closer into his, not wanting there to be any air left between them. He wanted the distance between them to be the smallest distance between two points. He wanted to stay like this, forever. Hermione tugged the hair at the back of his neck, and he felt the points of the fork prick his stomach. He opened his mouth, and immediately Hermione adjusted, opening hers with a quiet sigh. The warmth of her mouth was amazing. Nothing in the world could compare to her, everything looked bleak, when compared to her radiance. Ron held Hermione's face, tasting her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He felt her relax in his arms and lightly bit her lip. She let out an unintentional moan, and Ron could help but smile against her lips. Hermione let out a silent giggle. "I think this kitchen does something to us. Maybe Harry hexed it or something." She whispered, her lips still connected to Ron's. Ron kissed her again, letting his hands wander to her bum. "I couldn't care less about what Harry might have done to this bloody kitchen. You look amazing right now." He stated, gently squeezing her bottom through her jeans. Hermione moaned again, closing her eyes for a moment. "I don't know what I would do without you, Ron. You look rather handsome yourself." She looked him in the eyes, and he could see everything left unsaid floating at the surface. He knew that she really meant it, and knowing that he was needed, that she needed him, filled him with warmth. "I love you, Hermione." He said, and he kissed her forehead, lingering for a second before untangling himself from their embrace. "I will always be here if you need me. Even if it's just to poke me with a fork while making out. Totally fine with that." He looked down at his shirt and saw three holes where the fork had been. Hermione noticed it too, and let out another giggle. "I could of course fix that, but let our muggle-breakfast continue, shall we?" Right at that moment, Ron heard the front door, signalling that George was back from his morning fly. He went out every morning since the war, got up at half past 5, and just flew until he thought breakfast would be ready. Normally he'd catch up with Molly and Arthur on the way back, who took long morning walks before breakfast now. Ron guessed everyone needed a bit of alone time in the morning, to let reality sink in again. Molly had been doing a bit better lately, by tending Hermione she found a bit of herself back. She smiled again, occasionally, although her eyes still had some troubles remembering how to be in sync with her mouth.
Breakfast went how every breakfast had been since the war. Molly got teary eyed as soon as a conversation started to get going, because she still couldn't believe the world kept on turning when she had lost so much. George didn't say anything, but shovelled down his food in record time, never looking up from his plate. Arthur, however, pretended to be oblivious to it all, rambling on about work, not sensing the awkwardness around him. The only difference was that Hermione, too, was trying to keep everything a bit lighter. She laughed about the silly muggle jokes Arthur made, and asked questions about Auror applications to Harry and Ron. Ron noticed that her eyes were getting weary, that she was straining herself to stay happy. So he helped. He asked Ginny if she was planning on meeting up with Luna and Neville soon, and soon they were having a genuine conversation, while Molly quietly left the kitchen. When Ron caught Hermione's eye, she smiled at him. Her eyes were teary, but the smile was real, eye-wrinkles and all. All of a sudden, Ron remembered a line from Dumbledore's speech in their third year. They were all so desperately trying to turn on the light, to let happiness back in their lives. Even if the war had been miserable, not a single soul fighting that day, wanted them to feel miserable after it ended. Ron stood up, making his chair shriek on the wooden floor, and Ginny, who was sitting next to him, cry out in surprise.
"Let's play a game of quidditch today." He exclaimed boldly, looking around the table. "We can call Luna, Neville, Seamus, the whole lot. Even Percy will manage to take a day of, I suppose. Hermione can keep the score, since she doesn't really like being up in the air.." he glanced in her direction and saw her beaming smile, making him continue with a grin on his own face. "Look at the weather, it's bloody summer! We shouldn't be roaming around the house all day, we should make the most of it! I will apparate to Seamus, Neville will probably be there anyways, and where we find Neville, we find Luna. If one of you could floo Percy, see if he's able to come?" Ron looked around the room expectantly, waiting for someone to speak up. Harry stood up and grinned his signature grin. "Guess we could ask Bill and Fleur as well, they're still around, aren't they? Gin, will you help me find them, and we should give the brooms a look-over as well. They haven't been used for quite a while.." Harry swallowed loud, trying to stop his voice from quivering. Ginny got up and walked over to him "It's okay, we understand." She whispered just loud enough for Ron to hear, and they disappeared outside. Harry hadn't been on a broom since the war, just like Ron hadn't. It held too many memories they tried to avoid, like the fire in the room of requirement, but also all of the happy memories they have from Hogwarts, all of them ruined by Voldemort. Arthur cleared his throat and glanced at the door that led to the living area, where Molly had disappeared earlier. "I will see what I can do, and get Percy home as well." He walked over to Ron and stood in front of him, his hands resting at his sides awkwardly. "This is a marvelous idea, son, really brilliant. I'm proud of you." He ruffled Ron's hair, and then stopped abruptly, as if he only then noticed what he was doing. He walked out of the kitchen, leaving George, Hermione and Ron behind.
"Shall we go fetch Seamus, Neville and Luna, Ron?" Hermione asked, while she was clearing the table with a flick of her wand. "Maybe you could see if Angelina wants to come as well, George? I bet she would love to come and see everyone." Hermione was looking at George with a mix of sadness and hope, but George was still looking at the place where his plate has been. "I'm going to head out to the shop later today. It will be more fun without me, and you both know it." He mumbled, and abruptly stood up, before anyone could tell him otherwise. Hermione gasped at the sudden outburst, and when they heard the crack of Fred apparition, she started to shake. Ron quickly engulfed her in a hug, and she held on to his t-shirt as if it were a buoy in a wild ocean. "It's okay, love, everything will be fine. You know George, he will get around eventually." He whispered, and Hermione let out a sob. "I just want everything to be okay again." She said. "I know it's only pretending now, but if we try hard enough, it will eventually feel real, right?" She looked at him with red eyes, tears descending her blotched cheeks. Ron kissed her then, he couldn't think of anything else to do. He wiped away her tears, using his shirtsleeve, and kissed her. He tried to say everything he wanted to say in his kiss, everything he had tried, but failed, to say for so long. How important she was to him, how she always knew exactly how he felt. How her knowing that everyone was still pretending, and her accepting that fact because it was the logical thing, made him feel like things were going to be alright. How he loved her so much it made him scared to blink sometimes.
Ron let go of her when he heard a sound coming from the doorway. Standing there was his mother, Molly, with her eyes still red and teary, but a smile adorned her face. She was looking at them with her hands clasped in front of her. Ron cleared his throat and rubbed his neck awkwardly, looking from an overly excited mum to a really flustered girlfriend. "Well.. A.. ar..are you up for a game of quidditch, mum? If it's too much we understand, but I think Hermione'd like some company while keeping the score.."
"I'd love to honey, we sure need some happiness in this house. Hermione, are you feeling up to it as well? Don't worry about George too much, dear, he's always been like that. Ron, would you be so kind to apparate to the shop before you go to Seamus'? I think he'll only listen to you right now. And Hermione dear, shall we make some lunch for the lads and ladies that will be sweating up in the air this afternoon? Yes, yes, let us do that now, shall we?" Her eyes were glistening with that sparkle Ron knew too well. It was the sparkle in her eyes that came there when she had planning to do. Normally it appeared when they went a day out, and every year again, a week before school started. It was something Ron had almost forgot about, but now that he saw it he knew it for sure; this was the best idea he had had in a long time.
AN: That's it! I hope you enjoyed this lighter chapter. I've decided to show you Hermione's troubles in a flashback kind of way, because i want to really show you how the things are being in the burrow post-war, and not focus too much on Hermione alone. I hope you don't mind that I'm leaving you in the dark for a bit, more will be made clear in the next chapters! AND THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GOING TO BE EXCITING! QUIDDITCH! LUNA X NEVILLE! SEAMUS! POSSIBLE GEORGE X ANGELINA?! YAY!