Happy New Year!
Now, my initial plan was to get these next couple of chapters written for holiday gifts as we'll be getting into the holidays a bit in the story, but alas, life continues to life. Adulting sucks.
Oh well, better late than never LOL
Ron smiled as the cool October wind blew into the store each time it was opened. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes-Hogsmeade had never seen so much activity since it's opening day in late August. This was what Ron, as well as Fred and George, had been waiting for…
The first Hogsmeade Weekend.
As it was the first Hogsmeade weekend in over a year, the first since the war, and it was Halloween day, the shop owners and villagers of Hogsmeade had decided to make it a full-on festival of sorts, with merchandise out in front of the stores, street vendors milling about selling everything from candied apples to popcorn to Butterbeer, and games and activities for the younger lot.
McGonagall, who was so excited about the idea, did something Hogwarts had never done: with the express permission of parents, first and second-year students were allowed to leave the castle the morning of the festival. Unlike the older students, they were to stay in their assigned groups, which were led by sixth and seventh-year prefects from their house. Professors and the Head Boy—a Gryffindor that Ron vaguely recognized—and Head Girl—a Ravenclaw who Ron did not—were on hand to help keep them in line and escort them back to the castle after lunchtime. After that, said prefects were able to return to the village to enjoy their afternoon with the rest of the older students.
Ron spent the day fielding requests for items, restocking the shelves of dungbombs—which he assumed were being bought for Filch's "benefit"—and the different quills they had on hand—self-writing and spell-checking especially—which were being sold at record speed. Skiving Snackboxes, he noticed, weren't selling as much, which Ron took to mean that the students were less interested in skipping classes as they were just a couple of years ago when a certain pink toad was at the helm.
He did, however, overhear a conversation around the Patented Daydreams that mentioned one Professor Binns…he soon found that shelf needed to be restocked too.
Will there ever be a professor who breathes and bleeds teaching that class again? he wondered.
While Savy handled the registers and Sully manned the main floor of the store, Ron went back and forth between the inside and the outside, where Fred and George were doing what they did best—entertaining the students with explosives, tricks, and jokes.
"This is everything we'd dreamed about," George told Ron at one point during a lull.
"Been waiting for this weekend since we decided to buy this location," Fred added.
"Best decision ever," George said.
"Would do it again a million times," Fred agreed.
After a beat, George clapped a hand on Ron's back. "Thank you," he said simply.
Ron nodded, a lump forming in his throat from the pride and gratitude in his brother's eyes. This truly was their dream coming to life, and Ron was happy to be a part of it. "No need," he responded. "I'm happy to be here."
"Looks like Tomes & Scrolls got themselves a hot new employee," Fred said, smirking as he gazed up the street. Ron followed his gaze to find Hermione showing off a display of quills she'd set up in front of the store to a few young girls.
Ron hit Fred with a glare. "Watch it."
Fred covered his eyes from the sun and squinted. "Oh, dear," he said, "is that…my sister-in-law? Dear me, brother, I had no ide-." Fred's feigned shock was interrupted by a large hand swiping the back of his head. "So violent! Take it as a compliment!"
Behind him, George chuckled. "Now, now little brother, you know he only has eyes for one Ms. Bell."
"Whatever," Ron muttered, his gaze going back to Hermione. Just then, she glanced up as the girls ran into Tomes & Scrolls. Her eyes met his and she smiled and waved. He grinned and waved back.
"Alright," Fred said, shoving him back into the store. "Back to work you lovesick fool. Be useful and bring out some more of those Pygmy Puffs will ya?"
"Ever since McGonagall approved them on the pet list, they've been flying out of here like owls!" George exclaimed.
Ron laughed, shoving Fred back and then making his way through the store to the back room. As much as he loved the hustle and bustle of the day, he was also counting down the hours until he was done for the day. Then, he'd collect his gorgeous wife, and they'd make their way to The Burrow for their own Halloween Feast.
November came and went faster than Hermione had expected, with December moving just as quickly. While their schedules were busy, they'd fallen into a rhythm seamlessly. NEWT studies brought their odd group closer and forged new friendships as well as relationships.
Dean and Blakely had begun dating, while Justin and Susan seemed to be dancing around something themselves.
And for the first time in a long time, Hermione had close girlfriends aside from Ginny. She grew closest to Lisa, who'd begun working at WWW during the week, and thus was often around the village to have lunch with Hermione. And at Ginny's insistence, they had started to have a witch's night once a month to unwind, which Hermione found herself enjoying once she got passed all of the studying they could be doing that night.
"It's only one night," she'd finally mused. "We could all use the break, I guess."
"Happy to finally rub off on you," Ginny had said with a chuckle.
And so, Hermione—and Ginny—had kicked Ron out of the flat to go find the guys, then Susan, Blakely, Luna, Lisa, and Maggie joined them for an evening of snacks, drinks, pampering spells, and silly Witch Weekly quizzes and gossip. It felt good to do these 'normal girlie' things. Hermione was starting to realize just how much she'd missed out on throughout her teenage years and had decided to embrace these moments as much as she could.
They all celebrated when those who had been too young during Hermione's sixth year—Harry, Neville, Ginny, Susan, Blakely, Luna, and Maggie—became proud owners of their Apparition Licenses and otherwise continued with their study schedules. By mid-December, they were all ready for the coming holiday break.
In the meantime, Hermione had also learned to relish in the slow winter Sundays.
Sundays were the one day a week she allowed herself to be lazy and not rushed. Sure, she would likely do some reading at some point, and sure Ron would have to stop into the shop to make sure things were running smoothly, but she had made a promise that there would be no real studying or revising until closer to exams and, except for Hogsmeade weekends, they were both typically off from work.
As she lay in the soft, warm bed the Sunday before Christmas, Ron's arms wrapped snugly around her, she closed her eyes and reveled in the moment. She was careful not to breathe too hard or move so as not to wake him—so as not to break the spell that surrounded them. This was peace. A peace she hadn't felt for so many years. Even with the months that had passed since the fall of Voldemort, she still found herself marveling at the thought that they really were safe.
It wasn't until Ron's finger twitched that she noticed—his large hand was cupping her breast possessively. She chuckled softly. Even in his sleep, her husband was absolutely insatiable. She snuggled deeper into his embrace, completely undeterred by the way his fingers wrapped around her flesh.
Even on Sundays, Hermione was a planner. So, as she lay in Ron's arms, she mentally mapped out their day. Through the small gap in the curtains, she could see snow falling outside and took that into account. The snow didn't matter to wizards as much as to muggles, what with the Floo or apparition, but this did mean that she would need to consider her parents.
Hermione decided that they would Floo to her parents' new cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole around noon, collect them, and then Floo or side-along them to the Burrow. Likely Floo—no need to go out in this weather to apparate. Yes, that would be perfect—from one warm house to another.
Of course, Muggle dwellings were not supposed to be connected to the Floo Network, but as she was Hermione Granger-Weasley, she had been able to have the Department of Magical Transportation make an exception. Having a brother-in-law working in said office didn't hurt either. Although Percy was usually a stickler for the rules, he worked with Hermione and they came up with a good compromise—as long as her parents promised not to use the Floo without a witch or wizard present, and as long as it was only connected to the Burrow and Hermione and Ron's flat, it would be allowed.
Hermione's dad had laughed when she'd repeated the terms and he'd made it very clear that he had no intentions of touching the thing himself, ever. "With my luck, I'll show up to your flat burnt to a crisp! No, no. We'll happily wait for you magical folk to come and handle the powder and tell us when it's safe to step into the flames."
Hermione had rolled her eyes at her dad's antics. He could say what he wanted, but he was quite enjoying the magical world just as much as his new best friend Arthur Weasley was enjoying being so close to Muggles. Hermione could only imagine what the two of them would get into later that afternoon. Her mum and Mrs. Weasley had given up trying to control their husbands and warned them that if they blew anything up tinkering in Arthur's shed, neither wife would patch them up—not magically nor otherwise.
A sigh left her lips. A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was just short of nine—that meant they had three hours to enjoy a lazy Sunday morning. She had no doubt her insatiable husband would want to roll around in bed once he woke, then perhaps they would bring breakfast back to bed. Yes, that sounded perfect. Until then, they would have a lie-in.
Hermione was just dozing back to sleep when a low moan behind her woke her back up. Ron's arms tightened around her, his fingers closing in on her breast.
"Mione," he groaned.
Hermione stiffened. This wasn't his typical groan of sexual need.
"Mione," he said again, his tone frantic as he gripped her harder. "Hermione…no…Hermione! Hermione!"
With great difficulty, Hermione twisted in his arms to take his face in hers. He was pale—well, paler than usual—and already slightly sweaty. His face was scrunched up in panic and anger, his eyes still closed as he mumbled her name and other incomprehensible things.
"Ron, shhh, Ron, it's okay. Sweetheart, please wake up."
When his eyes jolted open, he stared at her in a panic.
"You're…you're a'right?" His voice was rough and hoarse from sleep and still held an edge to it as his arms gripped her tighter to him.
"I'm alright, love," she whispered. "You were having a dream—a nightmare."
Ron closed his eyes and relaxed back onto the pillow. "Yeah…a nightmare."
Hermione watched him for a moment as her hands ran through his hair. It had been some time since nightmares plagued them consistently, but they still popped up every once in a while. She wondered if they would ever stop, or if the three of them—Harry included—and perhaps even Ginny, would be plagued by their memories of the war forever. Neville, Dean, and the others had also confided to the group that the war had done a number on them—whether they had been on the run or at Hogwarts.
PTSD, her mind healer had told her. All of them would struggle for quite some time with their own versions of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Hermione knew what this was, of course, but it was not something talked about much in the wizarding world—at least not until now.
Now every Weasley was familiar with the term, and she was sure members of the Order and the DA were as well, as she'd learned that many of them were also seeing mind healers. A couple of the mind healers had even gotten together to create group sessions both at the hospital and at Hogwarts. She was glad that after everything their magical community had been through, mental health was becoming not only a conversation but a priority.
"What was your nightmare about?" Hermione whispered.
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Don't really remember now." Hermione nodded in understanding. "It's like, once I saw that you were safe, the nightmare disappeared. All I really know was that you were in danger and I couldn't get to you. So…it was likely—"
"Malfoy Manor," they said together.
Hermione ran a finger over his forehead to smooth the worry lines there. At her touch, he relaxed and sighed. Her fingers traced over his nose and then jaw next, before one fingertip lightly grazed his lips. He smiled, his eyes still closed and kissed the tip of her finger.
"I'm safe, Ron," Hermione whispered. "We're safe."
"We're safe," he repeated. He pulled her more fully into his arms and buried his face in her hair. She sighed with contentment. This was right where she belonged.
"So," he said after a considerable silence, "I'm assuming that you were up before me and already have our day planned out."
Hermione chuckled. "Perhaps."
"As long as there's no revising involved."
"No, Ron. I'll likely do some reading later tonight when we're back from the Burrow, but no real schoolwork." She went on to tell him what she mapped out for the day.
"So, breakfast first, yeah?" He pulled back and smiled. "And then second breakfast?"
"Second breakfast? What's for second breakfast?"
Ron shrugged. "I think I'm in the mood for eggs and bacon with some tea and toast. Keep it light. No doubt Mum will have a full spread later."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, then what's for first breakfast?" she asked with a chuckle.
Ron's smile turned into a wicked grin. "You." Hermione squealed as he flipped her onto her back and disappeared under the covers.
"Ronald! What are you—OH!"
Hermione loved Sundays.