Chapter 12

"Are you sure you need to move out so soon? Ginny's birthday is in a couple of days, and I think she'll be put out if you're not around for it." I know my reasoning is shite, but I'm going to miss having Hermione around every day. Honestly, it kind of worries me. Having her around means that I know that she is safe. Hermione moving back to her parents' house shouldn't be cause for concern, but after this war, we're all kind of spooked.

Ginny rolls her eyes at me across our breakfast on the table. "Like she would miss it. Besides, if anyone is going to be put out, it will be you. You'll miss her the moment she walks out the door."

Hermione laughs delicately. "You know that my mum was going to want to get things settled at home the moment she got her memories back. Now that Dad is awake, we have a lot of catching up to do. It makes sense for me to live with them in the last few weeks before school starts."

Much to everyone's relief, Hermione's dad woke up a little less than a week after he was admitted into St. Mungo's. Reciting the counter spell had the effect that Dr. Brown had hoped. By removing the false memories, the counter spell allowed genuine ones to return since his brain continued to be active in his sleep. Once they were restored, his brain didn't feel the need to go through REM sleep and consolidate those memories, prompting him to wake up. At least, I think that was how Hermione described it. I kind of got distracted by how radiantly happy she looked as she explained the process. At any rate, Hermione's mum settled last minute details at the dentist office in Sydney and flew over to England on a Muggle contraption called an "air plane." I don't know who was more excited: Hermione at having her family reunited, or Dad at having the opportunity to see the device in action when we picked her mum up from the airport yesterday.

"Well, dear, we will miss having you around. You're always welcome here!" Mum assures as she picks up Hermione's cleared plate.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replies with a smile. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish packing."

"I'll come with you!" Ginny offers as she stands from the table abruptly.

Even though the tense discussion regarding Harry's job offer happened over a week ago, Ginny still hasn't quite come back around to being completely normal with him. Although she is no longer outwardly aggressive, she still tends to avoid him if it is possible. Harry mentioned that he was worried that they wouldn't make up before she started school. Since he officially accepted the offer yesterday, I'm not sure if that's going to happen at all. Ginny can be bloody stubborn when it suits her.
When the girls leave the room, my dad says, "She'll come around eventually, Harry. You didn't read all of the letters she wrote us last year, worrying about you lot."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry mutters uncomfortably, his green eyes looking down at his plate.

Just in time to spare Harry from any other unsolicited pep talks from my parents, a loud bang on the window startles us. I look up to see Pidwigeon hurl himself feebly against the glass window. "You daft bird," I mutter as I move to open the window, allowing the confused owl to enter the kitchen.

He lands on Mum's shoulder. She removes the letter attached to his claw. "It's addressed to you, Ron."

I'm instantly curious when I notice the 'Ministry of Magic' seal on the letter. I take the letter and open it hastily. It says,

'Mr. Weasley,

It is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I am glad to hear that your trip to Australia was successful. Layla had much to tell me about your trip and how she was happy to experience your "passion" firsthand.

Forgive me, but I don't have much time for pleasantries. As you may know, Mr. Potter has recently accepted a slot in our upcoming Auror training session. Although we usually require a certain degree of academic success in our selection process, we are finding ourselves in desperate need of new recruits to help eradicate the remaining forces influenced by Voldemort. We at the Ministry believe that real life experience in war time can serve as an adequate substitute for these scores at this point in time. The training session, which is typically three years, will be accelerated to six months to reflect this.

We found your actions during the war to be courageous and honorable. Indeed, Mr. Potter told me that you were a vital asset to our success. Entering the Chamber of Secrets by mimicking Parseltongue, which allowed you to help Ms. Granger destroy a Horcrux, was a truly amazing feat. Based upon his recommendation and our own observations, we would like to offer you a spot in our upcoming Auror training session.

You will find that you will be in good company, including Mr. Potter and other classmates. Please let me know by September 1st if you intend to accept the slot.

Best Regards,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister of Magic'

Well, I'll be damned! I stare at Harry, who returns my stare with confusion. Harry never mentioned that he put in a good word for me with Kingsley. We never had much of an opportunity to talk about his acceptance of the slot, but I assumed that it didn't really go beyond an acceptance for himself.

"What was the letter about?" Dad asks, not looking up from his newspaper.

"I'm going to be an Auror." I'm in shock. It slips out before I could even think about it, but hearing it just affirms how right it feels. It has been a dream of mine to be an Auror ever since I was a kid, but I never thought that I would get the scores to be accepted. But here it is: an offer, unsolicited even. I can't comprehend it.

Dad drops his newspaper, his spectacled eyes looking at me incredulously. Harry's face breaks out into a grin. Mum, on the other hand, shrieks, "WHAT? It's too soon! I can't let you put yourself into harm's way again!"

But I'm not listening. I'm shaking with adrenaline. I start searching the kitchen frantically. "Mum, where's a quill? I have to respond!"

"Whoa, mate," Harry exclaims sardonically, his smile growing in spite of Mum's outburst. "Don't you want to give it some thought, first? It could be dangerous!"

"Harry," Mum seethes. I don't think I've ever heard her say Harry's name with such venom before. Harry's eyes drop to his plate, but the smirk on his face remains. "Ron, please wait! Give it some time to think it over."

"Your mother is right," Dad adds. My search in the kitchen slows to a stop. "At least give it some thought. There's no rush to respond."

"Why wait when I already know my response?" I mutter, but I return to the kitchen table.

"Because it's a huge commitment. Don't rush into a decision like this," Dad replies, his blue eyes regarding me seriously across the table.

"Better yet, don't reply at all! I couldn't convince Harry, but I could still keep you from making a huge mistake," Mum cries as she stands to wrap her arms around my shoulders from behind.

"Mum, all of your friends are Aurors. This isn't unusual," I mutter, my ears darkening. "Time isn't going to change my mind. I know I want this."

Her arms around me tighten. "Please, just give it some serious thought. Talk to someone. Maybe Hermione?"
I almost laugh at that statement. After all that she went through this summer, the last thing she needs is for me to tell her. Besides, she would probably use it as an excuse to bring back going to school, which was a matter that we finally settled. "I can't do that, Mum."

"Trust me, he can't," Harry adds, his smirk turning into a grimace. He is still having a hard time with Ginny, after all.
Mum releases her hold upon me and returns to her seat. "You mean to tell me that you don't intend to tell her? Hermione's a bright girl. She's going to find out."

"I know," I reply with a frown. "But that doesn't mean that I have to tell her immediately."

"Well, that is your decision, Ronnie," Mum says, suddenly sweet. "But perhaps it isn't the right decision if you can't tell Hermione about it? That seems unusual for you."

The self satisfied smile on Mum's face does prove a point. Telling Hermione will be nearly impossible.

0000

Two weeks pass and I still haven't responded to the letter. While I feel like I can't respond to the letter with good conscience without at least telling Hermione, that isn't a conversation that I want to have. She just settled back into her old home, which was renovated due to the damage the Death Eaters caused. Even though her parents understood its necessity, her family is still healing over what her parents deem as a breach in trust. With school starting in less than a week, she feels like she has barely had any time to spend with her parents and doesn't feel prepared for school - not that she ever does. The last thing she needs is for me to add more stress to her life.

With that being said, I know that I should tell someone. Although I have no desire to give Hermione one last chance to badger me into going to Hogwarts after all, I figured that coming with her and Ginny to Diagon Alley when they went school shopping would give me a chance to discuss this new development with someone. Namely, George. Although I had been planning on telling George that I wanted to help him at the shop, I also couldn't help but feel that this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. It was something I wanted my entire life, but I figured I would ask for George's opinion before making a decision. While the girls go to Flourish and Botts, I decide to push my way through the crowd at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, finding it to be as busy as ever.

"Hey ickle Ronniekins," George calls from the second floor, probably spotting our shared red hair from a mile away. I look up to see that he looks better than I ever have seen him since Fred's death. Although he doesn't look quite the same, I can see that he has been taking care of himself. I'm glad for this, since asking his opinion regarding my admittedly selfish decision would be a lot harder if he still looked completely devastated. As he descends the stairs, he asks, "What brings you here?"

I nervously run a hand through my hair. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something. Is now a bad time?"

"Does it look like a good time?" George responds with an eye roll as he gestures to the crowd of customers around us.

Despite this, he calls above him to the second floor, "Hey, Angie?"

Surprised by the name, I look up to see Angelina Johnson lean over the railing, her long arms adorned with various products. "What's up?"

"Would you mind stopping stocking inventory for a second to cashier down here? It appears Ronnie over here has something he would like to talk about, so we were going to go to the office," George calls, his voice lighter than it has been in quite some time.

Angelina smiles brightly at me. "Hey, good to see you, Ron! Sure thing, George."

I follow George to the back of the store and through a door that states "Employees Only." The door leads to a long hallway that ends with a staircase, which is the entrance to George's flat on the third floor. However, George simply takes me to a cramped room to the left of the hallway, which is littered with paperwork. "So, since when has Angelina been working here?" I ask.

"Since someone is taking their precious time in getting back to me about working here, I figured I would call in reinforcements. Angie needed some supplementary cash while waiting for the regional Quidditch draft results, so we figured she could work here for the time being."

George wasn't likely to have her for long. Angelina's combination of drive and competitiveness made her wicked on the Quidditch field. That somehow made the punch in my gut that his statement caused even worse. "Yeah, about that," I start, finding it incredibly difficult to speak. "Something came up."

"I figured," George replies while crossing his arms. "So, what is it? Don't tell me you knocked her up."

I choke on my own spit at this, causing me to cough harshly. "WHAT?" I manage between coughs.

"Our family is pretty much known for being akin to rabbits. It's not a surprise," George replies steadily, although I can make out through watery eyes that he is smirking.

"Bloody wanker, of course not," I say heatedly when I finally regain my composure. Over three months since the war's end, the closest to shagging that I can claim is the night on the beach that I completely screwed up. Given the fact that all of our snogging has been brief due to Hermione's insistence on respecting my mum's wishes while under her roof, I consider myself a lucky bloke for even being able to do that. Not that I plan on telling George any of that. "I just wanted your opinion about something."

"Well, come out with it, then. I don't have all day," George replies, although the remaining smirk on his face conveys more amusement than annoyance.

"Alright! Kingsley told me that I could join Harry in the Auror training program and find the remaining Death Eater bastards if I wanted to, but I know that you asked me to work with you here so I don't have a bloody clue what to do." It comes out so quickly that I'm not sure if he understood, but George's smirk drops. He doesn't respond for a few seconds, and I start to worry that this is bigger than the fact that I wouldn't be working with him. I hadn't thought of it until just now, but I could imagine that George wouldn't want another one of his family members fighting Death Eaters after what happened to Fred. Now it's all I can think of as the seconds drag on to half a minute. "George?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. Lost myself for a second," he replies. Unlike how he looked earlier, he now looks similar to the way he did in the first month of Fred's passing. Lost is a good description of it. I feel like an idiot for bringing it up. This isn't an issue of working with him or not - this is an issue of allowing me to face danger again of my own accord. Although I've wanted this all my life to prove that I'm worth something, I can see why George isn't taking it well.

"Look, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything," I mumble. I wish I could take the moment back.

"Don't be," George replies harshly with a shake of his head. A presence has returned to his eyes. "I'm tired of everyone treating me like a bloody mental patient. I should be happy for you, damn it! I shouldn't be having these damn flash backs every time someone so much as brings up the war, or Voldemort, or Death Eaters."

It takes me a couple of moments to process this information. I'm not sure what to say, so I just admit, "For what it's worth, I can relate. Maybe not to the same extent, but I still dream about it sometimes."

"Yeah, well, get back to me when it interrupts your daily routine," George mutters. He turns from me to walk around his desk. He grabs a key from his pocket and uses it to unlock the front drawer, which I realize contains a flask of something when he pulls it out and takes a swig of it.

"Really, George? I'm not Hermione or anything, but it is the middle of the day and you're at work," I say uneasily. In response, he pushes the flask into my hands. I smell its contents, and it's not what I expected. Instead of smelling of alcohol, it has a pleasant odor similar to coconut. "What is this?"

"It's a new potion that Angie and I are developing," he replies steadily, although he no longer looks me in the eye. "It's supposed to help treat anxiety and depression."

"Oh," I reply. It's the only word I can muster.

"Yeah. Well, the kinks aren't worked out yet, but it's getting there. Angie actually gave me the idea after a particularly bad episode a few weeks ago… If we can get it worked out, it could be part of a new 'feel good' product line or something. Non-addictive and healthier than alcohol. I feel like it could be a top seller." As George elaborates, his words become more lively.

Regardless of the kinks, the potion clearly works. It actually gives me an idea. "Maybe you could develop a variation of the Dreamless Sleep Drought that gives you good dreams?" I feel like we all could use that, and I wouldn't mind giving that to Hermione in particular.

"Yeah, I could definitely look into that! Hold on a second," George says as he puts the flask back into the drawer. After locking the drawer, he scribbles down my idea on one of the many pieces of parchment on the desk. When he finally looks up at me again, his face seems to have returned to its passively content state. "Now, back to our discussion. You're asking to shirk your brotherly duties to be a hero?"

"Well, I kind of sound like a prat when you say it like that," I reply cautiously. I would be more irritated, but I'm frankly still worried about George's recent behavior. I'd prefer not to set him off. "But yeah, basically. I would help you any day of the week, George, but you know how long I've wanted this. This is the only chance I'm ever going to get."

"Yeah, that's true. We both know you weren't going to pass all of those N.E.W.T.S," George states with a smirk. I can feel the tips of my ears burn, but before I can reply, he continues. "And since this is clearly the ONLY way you'll be able to achieve this dream, I'd be a bad brother if I didn't give you my blessing."

"One could argue you're still a bad brother if that's the way you give your blessing," I mutter, but I clap him on the back.

"But thanks, George. I'm sorry that I won't be working here just yet."

"It's okay," he replies with a shrug. "Just know there's a place for you here if you ever want it."

Well, despite a few bumpy moments, that was easier than expected. We walk back to the front of the store to see Ginny and Hermione at the entrance with bags of school supplies in hand. George ruffles Ginny's hair in greeting. "Shopping for your last year of school? You're growing up so fast!"

Ginny rolls her light brown eyes. "I just wanted to check out the WonderWitch section, George."

"Here, I'll show you some of the new products we have in stock," George replies.

As George and Ginny walk over to the violently pink part of the of the store, Hermione places her hand on my arm. I look down to see her looking at me expectantly. I ask, "What's up?"

"Since Ginny is having a rough patch with Harry at the moment, I didn't want to flaunt our relationship while we're here,"

She says quietly, waiting for George and Ginny to disappear into the crowd of shoppers. I swallow at that, considering that I have yet to tell her the news that could cause the same exact issue between us. My guilt increases when the hand on my arm slides down to my hand, intertwining our fingers. When they are far enough away for her liking, Hermione continues,

"Now that I'm settled at home, though, my parents wanted to have you over for dinner to officially meet you since we're in a relationship."

"I've met them before. Multiple times," I reply, confused.

Hermione's brow furrows. "I know, but it's different this time. We're together now, and they'd like to get to know you. Would you mind coming over tomorrow for dinner?"

Well, I reckon I should've known that this would have happened eventually. Hermione is practically a second daughter to my parents, but I've only met her parents briefly. The trip to Australia was the longest I've ever been with Hermione's mum, and that time was spent listening to the two of them catch up. "I suppose I can," I mumble.

"Well, nothing could parallel your enthusiasm," Hermione replies sarcastically, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.
I try not to laugh at the unconscious pout that forms on Hermione's face. "It's just a lot of pressure! What do they want to talk about? I don't really know what I would say."

Hermione lets out a sigh. "It really isn't a big deal, Ronald. It's just one dinner before I go back to Hogwarts, and then you won't see them again until Christmas break. Please?"

I let out a sigh of my own, trying to ignore the pit that formed in my stomach the moment she invited me. "Alright," I reply begrudgingly. "If it means that much to you, I'll be there."

Hermione smiles and stands up on her tip-toes to kiss me. Unfortunately, she pulls away before I can really reciprocate.

"Thank you, Ron. You won't regret it."