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Chapter 3

An argument broke out the next morning before breakfast, and it was over Ron and Hermione. Molly, who had woken up at four, had decided to distract herself from her thoughts by doing everyone's washing. She had washed, dried with her wand, folded, and was sneaking into everyone's rooms while they slept to hand-deliver them a neat pile of clothes.

An innocent enough task, one she had apparently thought wouldn't cause any distress. But upon entering Ron's room, she'd gotten more than she bargained for.

Thankfully, much to Ron's relief, he and Hermione had actually been sleeping at that time, and everyone was fully clothed (a different story to a few hours earlier), but the sight of her youngest son sharing his bed with another person had been too much for Molly. Her gasp had startled them both awake, which was then followed by Ron swearing at his mother and telling her to get out. The row had woken the rest of the house, which was now taking place in the kitchen, involving the rest of the family as well.

What should have been the perfect morning for Ron, waking up feeling good about him and Hermione, was now one of misery for everyone.

"Under my roof!" she bellowed at Ron, who shrunk into his chair despite the intense frustration surging through him at the same time. "Honestly, I thought better of you. Sneaking around, not even bothering to tell me… again… more lies..."

"Mum," Percy said calmly, sitting a little straighter in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose. "Mum, Ron is a legal adult and so is Hermione. They are at perfect liberty to —"

"Under my roof!" Molly said, ignoring Percy. "The pair of you… sneaking around..."

"They were just sleeping," Ginny said, and both Ron and Hermione flushed a horrible red.

Molly turned to Ginny, her eyes furious. "I suppose you knew about this! Encouraged it, even. Oh, and poor Harry. Where on Earth did he — " If possible, her eyes narrowed even more. Steam was almost coming out of her ears. "You," she cried, and Ginny shrunk away as well, turning back to the bench she'd been making her breakfast at.

"Molly, dear, I think you're overreacting," Arthur said. "As Percy pointed out, Ron and Hermione are both of an age where they're capable of making these decisions for themselves. If they wish for their sleeping arrangements to be… different, then I think —"

"Under my roof!" Molly said for a third time. "Neither you or Percy look surprised by this, Arthur. I suppose you knew of this arrangement our children had made?"

"Well," Arthur spluttered, "I didn't know, per se, but I —"

"No one bothered to tell me! How do you think it feels to be the only one to not know when her own son is… when her daughter…"

"Mum," Ron said, his voice weak, "I said yesterday… you saw… we just thought… it would be too much for the moment."

"Well, I know now!" Molly cried. "Is that how you wished for it to come out, Ronald?"

"Well, obviously not…"

Molly looked between everyone, having their full, terrified attention. "I am deeply hurt by this," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "From all of you. Even those of you who thought you'd keep it from me, thinking I wouldn't be happy for my own children, even in this time, to see that they were… happy." And she stormed from the room, leaving everyone behind her, speechless.

"Oh, I just feel awful," Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping in the chair.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled, rubbing her back comfortingly. "In our defence, though, she told me off just yesterday about it being too soon, so I don't think she would have been happy for us."

"Ron —"

"No, he's right, Hermione," Ginny said. "But… maybe we should have… been a bit more direct about it."

"We all thought it was for the best," Arthur said, his eyes following where Molly had gone. "I do think it was just the unexpected shock of… finding the two of you…"

Bill appeared in the kitchen suddenly, his clothes covered in soot and Floo powder. "Everything alright? I just saw Mum in —" He stopped, looking at everyone's ashen faces. "What happened?"

"Mum found Hermione in Ron's bed and lost it," Ginny said.

Bill turned to Ron, eyes wide, and Ron felt himself go red, imagining what his brother was thinking. "We were only sleeping," he mumbled, turning away.

"Yeah, she carried on about being hurt no one told her, saying she would have been happy — though we all know she wouldn't have been — and stormed out," Ginny explained. "Was pretty bad, but at the same time, she has no right to be carrying on as she has about it. We're all adults here."

No one bothered to point out that Ginny wasn't quite an adult just yet.

"I'll… go and see her then," Bill said. Ron heard him suppress a sigh.

Everyone moved to busying themselves with breakfast after that, but the room was very quiet. Ron had never felt such guilt before, mixed with a burning anger. He got it, and it was why he'd tried to keep things from his mum for so long. Everyone got it. It seemed no one had anticipated the fall out of when she would find out. And Ron certainly hadn't anticipated her to walk into his room at five in the morning to drop off clothes. Usually, she used magic for that kind of thing.

Still, he refused to feel guilty for having Hermione there. She was the best thing to happen to him since the end of the war, and he wasn't going to let his mother dictate that small bit of happiness for him.

Last night had gone better than he'd hoped. The small moment he'd spent with Harry, having his mind off it, believing that it wasn't going to happen that night, had reduced his nerves. And then when he'd seen her and felt that overwhelming love for her, he hadn't cared about anything else.

It had made the moment a whole lot easier, a whole lot more enjoyable, and he'd discovered with much satisfaction that he liked it.

They may have fumbled their way through it, but that was over with now, and there'd been next to no awkwardness. It had felt right, like she'd always been more special than a friend to him; like he'd always known this was where they'd end up one day.

Like he'd always loved her.

He'd never kissed someone so much or loved someone so much in his life. Even now, hours later, he could still feel her lips against his, the way she had felt in his arms, the way she had looked… the way she had whispered his name...

And she had seemed rather happy afterwards as well, so it mustn't have been horrible for her either, which was good to kno. He'd been worried about her expectations and not fulfilling them.

"You alright?"

"Hm?" Ron looked at her, realising she must have said something and he hadn't heard.

She looked concerned. "I said, are you alright? You seemed to go somewhere else for a moment."

He smiled, nodding. "I'm alright. I was just thinking about… you."

She returned his smile, flushing, but said nothing else on the matter.

The rest of breakfast went by in a blur. Molly and Bill had not returned, and everyone else ate in silence. Once finished, they hurried away to get themselves ready. They'd taken yesterday off, but today would be another day at the school.

"I was thinking," Hermione said, coming to sit beside Ron on his bed just as he was putting his shoes on, "that I don't think it's a good idea to rub it in with your mum at the moment. I think we should —"

Ron kissed her, silencing her. He brought his hands to her face, deepening the kiss. She didn't fight him, didn't push him away, but when he looked at her, she seemed to be fighting an internal battle with herself as to whether she should throw herself at him or ask him to stop.

"She can't tell us what to do. I'll… apologise for keeping it from her, but I'm not going to stop being with you because she doesn't like it. I love you too much for that." He kissed her again. "I've wanted this for too long." Another kiss, and he felt her smile against him. "And you're the one bit of happiness in this dark time."

"I just feel so awful," she said. "She was so upset, and can we blame her? I mean, Fred's funeral is in two days…"

Ron let his hands fall into his lap, guilt creeping up on him. "Yeah, I know. I'll talk to her at some point today."

"Do you think maybe I should say something?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not," Ron said. "It's probably best if it's just me."

She nodded. "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I ever am to set foot in that castle again." Which was not much.

She offered a hand, smiling. "In this together, remember?"

He accepted it, squeezing her fingers tightly. "In this together," he repeated.

…

Going back each day to the place where so many people had died was not what anyone wanted to be doing. The memories were so raw in everyone's minds that it couldn't be helped to stop and lose oneself at a place where they had witnessed death.

Many tears had been shed over the week, yet people kept showing up, day in and day out, almost as if it were their duty to help with the restoration of Hogwarts.

Students, former and present, staff and Ministry members, attended every day, working tirelessly to move or repair crumbled walls, fix leaking plumbing, or trying to retain the magic that had once filled every nook and cranny. But magic could only do so much, and there was much physical exertion used on top of spells.

Ron found himself in the Gryffindor common room today, one place that had remained fairly intact throughout the Battle. Stepping into his old dormitory hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn't expected to feel. It had been more than a year since he'd last slept in his bed. Much had changed since then; he'd grown up so much in such a short time. It didn't even feel right being there; like he no longer belonged at Hogwarts at all. The reality of war had taught him more than what any schooling could do.

"Feels weird, doesn't it?"

Ron spun around."Hi, Neville," he said.

Neville had been one of the hardest working among them, showing up every day and giving his all to this place. Ron admired his dedication.

"Almost like this was another time." He came to stand beside Ron, who'd been staring at his four poster bed. "I guess they're someone else's beds now, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess they are," Ron said. He watched the bed for a few more moments before Neville spoke again.

"We're all about to head to the Great Hall for a break. Are you coming?"

Ron nodded, and without another word, he followed Neville down the staircase and into the common room.

The portrait hole swung open before they had the chance to leave.

"Mum!" Ron said. "Wh—what are you doing here?" Molly had not been to the castle once, the place where she had lost a son. No one had asked her to.

"Come to see you, Ronald. If you'd please." Her tone was neutral.

Ron really didn't wish to have another argument, not in front of Neville, but he couldn't say no to her either. "I'll see you soon, Neville," he said instead.

Neville nodded and disappeared from the common room, leaving Ron alone with his mother. It was the first time it had just been the two of them in almost two weeks. He shuffled his feet.

"Why don't we sit?" Molly suggested, indicating the armchairs by the fireplace. It had been their favourite spot over the years — Ron, Harry's and Hermione's.

Ron shuffled over to them and sat down. He stared into the unlit fireplace, wondering just what she was going to say to him. Her stony expression didn't bode well.

She sat beside him, her eyes boring into him, as if waiting for him to say something. He kept his gaze on the fireplace. Eventually, the silence must have become too much, because she spoke, and her voice was filled with anguish. "Horcruxes?"

Ron winced. He'd had a feeling, a part of him had always known, that Hermione had had nothing to do with his mum's anger. It had been this; them leaving so abruptly after Bill's wedding and not telling her where they were going. For going off the map for months, leaving her to worry. All to search for seven Horcruxes, the darkest of Dark magic.

"All those months!" Molly went on. "All those times I forced myself to check that damned clock to make sure your name hadn't ticked over to 'dead'. Not even a message, a note, anything… Horcruxes, Ron? All three of you? Really?"

Ron sunk low into the armchair, wanting very much to disappear. His mother had a way of making anyone feel small, despite her own small stature. He had no desire to relive those horrendous months spent in a tent, the memories of Voldemort's soul speaking to him, preying on his deepest fears, and how worthless it had made him feel to the point where he couldn't take it anymore. It had been a truly awful time in his life.

"Harry was instructed by Dumbledore to not say anything," he said weakly after a moment.

"And yet he told you," Molly said.

"That was another instruction from Dumbledore." Ron sucked in a breath and braved a look in his mother's direction. Her expression had softened slightly, though he still wouldn't want to have crossed her.

"It wasn't some big camping adventure, Mum. No doubt Bill has told you that I wasn't exactly the best person during that time. We found them all, we destroyed them, but not before they almost destroyed us. Me. We had to do it. You know that, right? If we hadn't, we wouldn't be here, free of him."

"Fred would still be alive," Molly said, her voice barely audible.

Ron looked away, unable to bear the look in his mother's eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe we'd all be dead. Maybe he would have won the fight."

"You were barely of age," Molly whispered. "Ginny isn't of age."

Ron swallowed. He was so uncomfortable. His mother was on the brink of bursting into tears, and he'd have no idea what to do if she did. Usually, someone else was around to comfort her if that happened. His dad. Bill. Someone who was much better at dealing with these sorts of things.

"It… just shows, I guess…" he said. "The way you've raised us all. What you've taught us. Never to back down from a fight."

It had been the wrong thing to say. She burst into a wail of tears, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, Ron," she sobbed. "Oh, Ron. How could you?"

Ron watched her, completely lost for words. He shifted, contemplating whether to hug her or not. He settled for patting her shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Molly started crying harder. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For… leaving like I did. For not being able to tell you. For… Fred."

"Sorry for being brave?" Molly wailed. "For doing what is right? Don't be sorry for that!" And she threw herself into Ron's arms, hugging him so tight that she almost suffocated him. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Er… thanks." Ron patted her back.

"My children," Molly sobbed. "All true Gryffindors, if I've ever seen one. Brave, loyal, and stupidly careless about their own mortality. The Sorting Hat never gets it wrong."

And there the two of them sat, Molly sobbing into Ron's shoulder, mumbling words about being proud, about how stupid they all were, but emphasising how she was still 'so proud' of him. Ron could only sit there, allowing her to cry, as uncomfortable as it made him.

After what felt like forever, Molly finally pulled back, wiping her red eyes. Ron looked away again; he was really bothered by seeing her cry so much.

"Just no more secrets, Ron," she said after a while. "I don't care if you thought you were sparing my feelings; no more secrets. If something — or someone — makes you happy during this time, then I want to know about it."

Ron nodded, but said nothing.

Molly started sobbing again. Ron stared at her, wide-eyed. What was it now?

"You and Hermione," she sniffed. "How lovely. Such a nice, young woman… so lovely..."

At the same moment, the portrait hole swung open again and Hermione climbed through. Spotting Ron and Molly by the fireplace, her calm expression changed to one of alarm, and it looked as if she'd much rather be out there hunting for Horcruxes again.

"It's alright," Ron said, standing up and going over to her. "Mum's got it all off her chest now. Everything's fine."

Hermione eyed Molly nervously. "Mrs Weasley, I just want to say I'm really —"

"Oh, it's Molly, dear!" She jumped to her feet and took Hermione into a crushing hug.

"Alright," Ron said after a moment. "I think maybe we should, er, go and get something to eat. I don't think I could lift another boulder — magic or otherwise — without food."

Molly let go of a startled Hermione, smiling between them.

Sensing she might start crying again, Ron urged Hermione through the portrait hole and into the corridor, whispering, "She's a bit sensitive at the moment. Was very uncomfortable."

But at least one good thing had come from that discussion. As they walked through the corridor, his mum trailing a little behind them, he slipped his hand into Hermione's. He no longer had to keep his feelings hidden. If he wanted to hold Hermione's hand, sure as hell no one was going to stop him.

Thank you once again for all of your kind words and encouragement on this story, either via reviews, or messages on IG. So very much appreciated! I hope you liked this chapter!