Chapter 7:

Molly's Tale

Ron and Hermione sauntered into The Burrow's kitchen, hand in hand. Ron laughed at the way Hermione stumbled on the raised ledge of the doorway. "Oh be quiet," she hissed, though there was no aggression behind it.

The kitchen was occupied by his mother humming a tune Ron couldn't recognize. He noticed immediately that she seemed to be frying something up for dinner. "Hey, mum," he greeted. It was rare that she ventured so far out of her room these days.

"Oh, just in time," she threw the couple a small smile. "I was wondering if you two could help me peel the potatoes,'

Hermione immediately relinquished her hold on Ron's hand and aided his mother. It was endearing, really, that Hermione felt she needed to help out as much as possible.

She was very much like Harry, now. Nowhere to go - a new family found.

Except that wasn't true, he thought as he waved his wand to summon a large bowl for the potato skins. Hermione still had family, far across the world in a country he neither knew nor understood.

Hermione had yet to mention them in more than a few passing conversations. It was clear that she was still processing it. Mulling over a possible solution to the temporary grave she'd settled their minds in.

The only time she'd ever properly brought it up was six days after Fred's funeral. She'd been sitting in between Ron's legs, her back against his chest, her hair under his chin.

"What if they still wanted to have a family?"

It was an unprompted question. Their blissful ignorance found in silence shattered by the weight of thoughts she was too afraid to voice.

Ron hadn't known what to say. He'd chosen instead to wrap an arm around her middle and hold her there, safe and secure.

He knew she'd figure something out. She always did. So long as the memories she modified could be repaired, of course.

Though, and this was something Ron would never say aloud, he didn't know if returning their memories was a good plan, to begin with.

It's not that he didn't want to meet the Grangers properly, or that he had some selfish desire to keep Hermione his. It was the fact that he didn't think Hermione fully understood the weight of her actions, and if she did, that was likely the reason she hadn't gone out and discussed plans to venture off to Australia.

She hadn't asked them for permission. She hadn't given them any choice in the matter. She'd stolen their lives and modified them in a way to keep them far away from her. For their safety.

But from their previous conversations spent on long walks through empty corridors on those so-called boring prefect patrols, Ron knew that Hermione had never sparred her parents the details of the war.

That relationship was fractured. Held by a string ready to tear at any moment. He just didn't know if Hermione wanted to strengthen that string. If she would do it.

He wanted her to be happy. If mending her actions led her to that, he'd support it. No matter what his personal feelings were.

Hell, he didn't know them. Maybe they'd be more than pleased with Hermione's explanation.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked, breaking Ron from his wandering thoughts.

His mum let out a long breath. "He, well…" she cleared her throat. "He left,"

"He what!?" Ron yelped, dropping the peeler into the bowl, creating a resounding clang. "Sorry," he muttered at Hermione's exasperated look.

"Yes. I don't know why, but I suppose I don't need to," his mum spoke softly. Carefully.

"Are you sure he's gone? Like, gone, gone?" Ron asked insistently, stepping away from the bowl of potatoes.

"I'm quite sure of it, dear," his mum sighed laughing. "You can run up to your room. It's all gone,"

Hermione's brow furrowed, and she too stopped her work on the potatoes. She turned on the spot, looking for something. "Hang on…"

His mum stilled at the sink; her eyes closed.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione's voice was suddenly heavy with dread, and Ron could feel it too. His own, spreading from his belly to his fingers.

"She's gone with him," his mum announced, her hands once again in the motions of frying pork.

Ron shifted on his feet, disbelief evident on his face. "I'm sorry… and you're okay with that?"

His mum smiled, a glint in her eye that hadn't been there in a very long time lighting the way to Ron's subconscious relief. "I'm more than okay with it,"

Ron's jaw dropped, and he could tell from Hermione's mechanical movements that she too was thrown off. "So, Harry and Ginny have up and left, and you're fine with it?" Ron asked, rewording the question to make sure she understood.

His mum rolled her eyes in a very Ginny way and chortled. "I may not have wanted it. May not have thought this was how it would've happened, but I think it's good for her. For them,"

"So, they're together?" Hermione asked suddenly, picking up on the use of 'Them,".

His mum let out an amused sigh and shook her head. "I don't know, but between you and me," she smiled up at Hermione. "I hope they are,"

"You know they dated for a bit at the end of our sixth year," Ron said, picking up the peeler and trying to continue his work as though his mind wasn't reeling.

Harry had left.

This was a different kind of adventure. Not like that of the Horcrux hunt, but it was still their adventure to go on. The three of them. Navigating life in a world dominated by uncertainty. A future wide open.

He'd still left.

Just like Ron had.

"Yes, Ron, though I didn't find out until after you all got home," his mum explained quietly.

"She didn't write to you about it?" Hermione asked skeptically.

His mum shook her head. "No, she didn't. I believe that she knew it would be short-lived. That she was going to enjoy every second of it, not wasting any time writing to me about the details. Because she knew that no matter what, Harry wouldn't stay. That he couldn't,"

"Oh,"

His mum chuckled wryly. "I did question his… feelings for her, let's say,"

"How come?" Ron asked, focusing very hard on avoiding chopping off his finger. He didn't like to think about the aftermath of Dumbledore's funeral. Ginny was pretty good at hiding how she really felt most of the time, and it's not like she was a sobbing mess, but he could tell she was upset.

Which only managed to upset him.

He'd always had this strange guilt when it came to Ginny. Whether it stemmed from the Chamber or perhaps thanks to Hermione constantly pointing out the times he'd brushed her off or prioritized others when it could, or rather should, have been Ginny.

He felt responsible for a lot of what happened to her. All the time.

He just couldn't shake it, though he hadn't gone ahead and done anything to mend it either.

"She's beautiful, loud, popular…" his mum shrugged. "In a moment of weakness, let's say… I doubted him," she used the pan to flip the slab of meat cooking within it. Ron recognized the manual cooking as a sign of his mother's thinking. Normally, she would've let magic handle it. "But then I saw the way they looked at each other after George lost his ear. I saw the way Harry tried to avoid her. How he seemed… afraid of his feelings for her, almost,"

Ron nodded, not having picked up on that himself. The memory of catching the two of them snogging in Ginny's room, her legs pressed against her bed, ready to bring Harry down with her at any moment, flashed before his eyes.

Harry's seventeenth birthday.

"Then I knew that it was genuine. That he'd fallen for Ginny," his mum sighed again and sprinkled some chopped onions over the pork. "It was terrifying, you see. Harry is a marked man. He's dangerous and I knew that. I love him, that is true, but I didn't think Ginny knew what she was getting herself into,"

Ron continued to listen. His thoughts were silent as his mother's tale wound around him and Hermione. He noticed tears sparkling in his girlfriend's eyes, the light catching in them and highlighting their colour.

"That was the second time I learned that I shouldn't have doubted those two," she admitted, laughing to herself faintly. "I should've known that of anyone, Ginny was the one who could handle falling in love with Harry Potter. Her mind, her heart, everything that makes her who she is should've let me know that I was wrong. Eventually, it did,"

She let the pan lie on the stove uninterrupted and turned to Ron. Then, she withdrew a small slip of parchment from the pocket of her apron and extended it toward him.

Ron took it and unfolded the note. In Ginny's truly terrible handwriting, it read:

Taking a chance! – Ginny

"So, though I've come to stop doubting her and Harry, I do believe she has to come to that realization herself," her attention turned to Hermione for a moment, and then back up at Ron. "So yes. I'm glad she went with him. It could be days, months, or maybe even years until I see her again. Until I see Harry again… but I'm alright with that. As long as they took that chance. To be happy and to be free. That is what we fought this war for, after all,"

She turned away from Ron and Hermione then, wiped her hands on her apron, and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, presumably.

And then, like a key sliding into a lock and turning with that perfect 'click,' Ron came to the conclusion that perhaps this adventure wasn't one for the three of them. That a new day, a new world had presented itself to them.

One in which Harry and Ginny were one, and he and Hermione another. Two pieces of a puzzle that had to be solved individually before coming together.

So, in the end, Harry hadn't left.

He'd grown, just like Ron.

He smiled to himself and continued to peel his potato.

A/N: The actual new chapter isn't ready yet, so I wrote this because it came to me fast. The continuation of what happens with Harry and Ginny is next haha. It's just tricky, sorry. Hope you enjoyed this little one-shot though.

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