"Oh my god, did you kiss him? Did he kiss you? Oh god this is so weird, he'd my dorky big brother!"

Hermione pulled a face and reached for the jam.

"Nothing happened."

Ginny snorted.

"No really, nothing happened."

"Oh." Ginny blinked, crestfallen. "Really? 'Cause when I saw you in the hall, you said he slept in your-"

"Really," Hermione said, watching her hands as she spread butter and jam on her toast. She never ate jam. Well, nearly never.

She only really ate jam when she was thinking of him. He liked jam.

What the hell happened last night?

Hermione sighed.

"I really don't know what happened. I thought- I don't know. When I came back he was asleep on my bed and…" she trailed off, remembering and feeling confused.

Ginny narrowed her eyes over the top of her steaming coffee cup.

"And then what?"

Hermione eyed her toast sadly.

"He woke up, we sort of - talked - a bit. About nothing really. And it sort of fizzled out. And he asked if I'd like him to stay, and I said yes, and then we went to sleep on opposite sides of the bed like there was a blast-ended skrewt between us."

She took a bite of toast and thought it was pathetic that she was eating jam as a substitute for Ron.

Ginny frowned and turned her coffee cup around in her hands.

"Hmmm,"

"I am so confused. What he said about- I don't know why I didn't think about it before- I guess I just- Damn it. I don't know if I'm mad at him or- or sad or- gah! I just- I'm so confused."

"I see that," said Ginny. She took a swig of her coffee and stole a piece of Hermione's toast. "The lads'll be down in a minute,"

"The who?"

"The lads," said Ginny, through a mouthful of toast and coffee, "It's what I'm calling them. Better fit than boys or men. This way they can be 'wee' or 'strapping' as the occasion requires," she gestured with her cup, "Not one of mine. Can't remember who said it. Might've been Hannah Abbott."

"Hey," Harry wandered into the kitchen, running a hand through his rumpled hair.

"Right on schedule," said Ginny, meeting him half way with a kiss. "Don't worry about it," she said over her shoulder to Hermione, "You'll get it all sorted in Australia."

"What's this?" asked Harry, helping himself to a slice of left over fruit cake, one arm still tucked around Ginny.

"Nothing," said Hermione, sighing, "Just… Ron."

"Oh," Harry looked wary.

"It's fine. We're not fighting. It just- It's fine."

Harry stared at her.

"Right. Good." He frowned, "I didn't think you liked jam,"

Hermione sighed.

They hadn't talked about that night. It was… un-talk-about-able. Like they weren't admitting he'd said what he'd said, and they weren't admitting she'd freaked out.

They were really… quiet. With each other. Like some kind of strange calm had descended. Hermione wasn't sure what to say. She was tossing up between walking straight into a Ministry job or accepting one of several very flattering university scholarships. Harry was registered for Auror training. Ron was… planning on helping George out for a bit. According to George.

Hermione repositioned the textbook on her knees and gazed out to sea. She'd had to do some complicated magic to eradicate the glare from their little carpet of towels on the sand. On the towels, you could sit and not get sunburnt. She raised her face to the sun and took a breath of salty air.

Even if they couldn't bring her parents back, it was nice to get away.

Harry and Ginny were splashing in the knee deep waves close to shore. Shouts of laughter drifted back down the beach… Cute couple. Him with his messy black hair, her with her orange plait and rainbow bikini… a tiny couple built for flying… they looked energetic, coiled, alive. Ready to spring into action.

She never felt that way.

The last seven years felt strange now. Like they were draining away. All that adrenalin… Kept her pumping, kept her going all that time… and now she just wanted to read books. Just… read.

And him.

But if that wasn't on the cards, the books would do.

She stared out to sea, out behind the breaking waves to where George floated on the swell. A white stick figure with a mop of dark orange hair floating in the big green sea.

Molly had almost stopped them taking him. Nothing George or Ron or Ginny or Harry had said had made any difference. Arthur had said nothing at all.

"We'll look after him, Mrs Weasley, I promise," she'd said.

Molly's eyes had filled with tears.

"I know, dear. You always bring my boys home."

The weight of that nearly crushed her.

"It was just luck," she'd said.

"Yes, dear. They're very lucky to have you,"

Hermione shook her head free of that memory. So unnerving.

So was George, come to think of it. Ron seemed to handle him best. That was why he was there with them in Australia. Ron declared it would be good for George to get some sun. George declared Ron was turning into a broody hen and slipped a canary cream into his dessert bowl. And everyone had different opinions and no-one listened to George, when he said, eyes glinting dangerously, that he'd like to visit the land down under, if only for the punch lines.

Hermione thought they had a lot in common, Ron and George. Both overshadowed…

She closed the textbook on her lap and gazed down the beach to where Ron was ambling, loose limbed, hands in pockets, head down, puzzling out the sand.

Ron and beaches, she thought idly, there's just something about that combination… She'd struggled to sit up in bed, fighting off nausea and faintness, just to watch him walk down that stony beach outside Shell Cottage… those long legs… like the beach was his and they would go on forever…

She smiled and patted the towel beside her and he sat down wordlessly and peered over at the book in her lap.

"Just catching up," she felt herself blushing.

He gave her that lopsided smile in place of an affectionate 'know it all' comment, and picked up a small stick from the sand and began drawing patterns in it.

"You've read that one at least three times already," he said, talking to his own feet, "You're not going to bring them back unless you can do it without any damage, are you?"

He'd always been smart.

"No."

He inhaled sharply.

"Why not?"

And this was the price. He'd told her about his future, the one he'd believed was his and now she had to tell him her past, the one she kept for herself.

"We talked about it."

His head whipped round to stare at her.

"You what?"

"Hypothetically. It was a hypothetical. We talked about a lot of things, hypothetically. I think they would have pulled me out of Hogwarts if they could have."

He was frowning at her. His nose was sunburnt. She'd told him how many times that sun blocking charms wear off? At least he was safe now, away from the dangerous rays of the sun…

"I wasn't the easiest child," she found herself saying, "There was a lot of accidental magic," which she had never told anyone about, "I think that's why I don't have any siblings," oh god, why am I telling him this? "They knew exactly how risky it was- what we were doing with Harry- but they also knew I didn't really fit in the muggle world. We always talked about it hypothetically… so they knew, but they didn't know, if you see what I mean. They always knew this was a possibility. After all the magical accidents I had when I was little, I think they were just so relieved that I could have a suitable education- learn to handle it- even if it came with entanglement in a warzone. God, they were so proud of me…"

Hermione trailed off, staring out to sea again.

Ron felt like his world had tipped upside down and righted itself again.

"I really can't imagine you losing control," he said lightly

She cast him a look, serious grey eyes under her lashes.

"Can't you?" she asked, softly, voice tinged with melancholy.

"Well," he said, panicking, realising all at once that he had in fact seen her lose it, "Not magically- Unless you count Draco with a bloody nose as magical," he grinned as she rolled her eyes and smiled, "Gotta admit, that was a pretty magical moment. Ah, the look on his face,"

"It was pretty satisfying," she admitted. Her smile faded and she was gazing back out at the water again.

"So, we're not bringing them back this time," he said, nudging her with his elbow, "Get rid of that damn book. Start a campaign to get funding poured into memory research and come back when you've got it worked out."

She let out a little huff of laughter.

"Got it all planned out now, have you?"

"Yeah," he said, turning his decision over in his mind, "I'm going back,"

She blinked at him, confusion rippling across her face.

"What?"

"Back to Hogwarts,"

"What?"

He grinned.

"Bet of the three of us you never thought it'd be me,"

"That's not- what- Ron-"

"The way I see it, I need more time to work out what I want to do, George needs help with the shop, McGonnagall needs help rebuilding and this way I get to finish school as Head Boy and Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," He grinned at her, "Which is pretty much what I wanted when I was eleven before the whole Voldemort thing happened. Tell me how that's not a good plan,"

Hermione spluttered at him.

"You- you-"

"Plus, I'll be worshipped like a god without you and Harry stealing all my thunder," He cracked his knuckles in satisfaction.

"You're unbelievable, you know that,"

He chuckled.

"Yeah, reckon I might be. C'mon, let's drag George back in and dunk him a few times before he starts thinking we'll let him float out to sea,"

"Fake shark?"

"Even better. We should put you on the books at Wheezies."