In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 58: Funeral
Ron woke Friday to a nudge, red hair stood above him, Percy was in Gia's bedroom.
"What the—" Ron stammered as he opened covers, however, Ron's wand was already aimed at Percy in his work suit.
"What'd I tell you about performing magic among muggles?" Percy said, "Suppose that's why you needed the bed to vibrate last night, right?"
"Huh?" Ron muttered as he stood.
"It's showing up in the Ministry!" Percy said, "Warming charms, somebody else's problem, unlocking charms, cleaning charms, to start, along with the bed."
"I never vibrated the bed," Ron said, "What's the charm for that?"
"Then you do have a problem," Percy said.
Ron caught sight of the package on the bookshelf, next to Hedwig.
"What's this?" Ron asked.
"Need you to sign these," Percy said as he handed two sheets of parchment over to Ron.
Ron glanced at the top one.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Employment Contract to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon Disposal, LLC
"What?" Ron asked, as he leafed to the next one, a disciplinary note.
"Innovative," Percy said, "Hedwig's and Pidwidgeon's plans to convert surplus reading material into owl litter. Too bad their key employee has a habit of slacking on the job, but we're still confident he's up to the final task, and that he'll eventually get around to it."
Ron studied Percy's eyes, the importance of the hint could not be understated, a feeling of going out on a limb here, and this parchment was a cover.
"Alright," Ron said as he grabbed a quill, signed both sheets, "Nothing like starting off a job on the wrong foot."
"I already got their talon prints on the first page," Percy said, "You'll find these are on display in a locked cabinet inside Gringotts."
"Ta," Ron said, "I think."
"You'll understand," Percy said, "Be ready when I give the signal, you may only have minutes. Stay safe."
Percy disapparated as Richard came in.
Ron opened the package, revealed Ministry: Wards.
"What is it?" Richard asked.
A crack to the spine, Ron opened it to the page with a tab sticking out, read it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Concealment of Magic Use
Used sparingly when the use of magic needs to be concealed from the Ministry of Magic, this ward shrouds the use of magic, and requires more than one wizard to cast. Proper application is illustrated.
"It's…I'm guessing it's not going to be available in Flourish & Blotts," Ron said as he closed the book, "Forget you ever saw it."
"That funeral?" Richard asked.
"Yeah," Ron said as he put the book onto the shelf.
Ron set an owl treat into the dish, and went to his trunk. He opened it and began to search.
"Why'd you have to wear anything?" Richard said, "Bet she'd like you to go starkers."
"Likely," Ron said, "Gotta appear civilized."
Ron pulled out a wrinkled gray muggle suit, pulled it up to his chest, before the thought came to him. One arm into the sleeve, and another, and the thing wouldn't budge all the way up.
"I'd…" Ron started.
"Just a moment," Richard said, and left.
Ron thought for a moment about the right charm, it'd be in one of their spell books.
"Heard you had an issue," said Kurt as he entered the bedroom.
"Yeah," Ron said, "Been—"
"See if I've got something you can borrow," Kurt said.
"Ta," Ron replied.
Hermione stepped out of the dark sedan, walked up the cold stone steps of the church, Mark walked with her, and they entered the back entrance. They shuffled into the small side vestibule, shielded from the rest of the congregation by a heavy black divider. In the middle of the front stage were centered two coffins.
"Excuse me," said a man in gray as he entered, "If anybody needs to view—"
"Took me two bottles," Aunt Cheryl said, "You'd do nobody a favor to witness that."
Hermione stirred.
"Trust me Darling," Aunt Cheryl said to Hermione, "Look in a mirror if you're ever in the need."
The man in gray went over to the coffins, turned the latches to seal the caskets.
"Are we ready?" asked Father Dowling as he came in.
"Yes," Uncle Jarrod said.
Father Dowling walked out to the center of the stage.
…
Ron rushed up the front steps of the church, entered the sanctuary as Father Dowling made it to center of the stage. Ron glanced around, the pews were packed, so Ron stood in the back, to the left. While Ron figured Hermione might be in the warded off section, he didn't want to distract her, figured it to be the best. A glint of metal, he recognized Kristen a few pews forward.
"Dearly beloved," Father Dowling said, "We gather today to recognize the passing of two friends, two parents, two dentists, as they are now reunited with our Lord and Savior, in his name, we pray."
"Amen," came the chant.
"As difficult of a time—" the Father continued.
His eyes too distant for Ron to pickup if his hunch were correct, instead, he let his thoughts mull and dwell on Hermione's parents. As much as Charles had been a grizzly to make sure her daughter was treated well, Linda was nurturing and understood much. Ron's personal research had benefited greatly from Linda's guidance, one he'd miss out on.
"Let us sing," the Father said.
Everybody stood and the music began. Ron wished for the Weird Sisters instead, his Mum's favorite. Ron listened to the music, the sermon, and the final hymn.
"Family," Father Dowling said, "Please."
Suits in black and gray, and dresses, Ron didn't directly recognize the group, despite a vague similarity, figured them to be relatives. As the caskets began to move, Ron spotted her, the bushy brown hair above a dress of black, of Hermione as she walked out from behind the divider, behind the coffins being moved between the aisles, together. A suited brown hair boy walked next to Hermione, an early teenager. Ron stood, turned as the wooden chariots went past, Hermione kept her focus ahead, her brown eyes never darted toward him; and she left the church.
"A reception will be at the country club," the Father said, "Leave in peace."
Ron left the sanctuary, stepped out in time to see Hermione get into a sedan with dented panels, a sedan that left as it followed the hearses. Again, the cold air tried to invade the suit over his skin.
"Nice hat," Kristen said, "Walk you to the reception."
"Ta," Ron said as he adjusted the hat on his head.
"This lady appreciates thinking hats," the sorting hat whispered.
Ron walked the road, next to Kristen in her Muggle police uniform, with the chrome of Chief emblazoned on it.
"You made it," Kristen said, the row of shops to their right.
"Hermione's my friend," Ron said, "I wouldn't miss it."
"Harry's her friend," Kristen said, "Right?"
"He doesn't know, I don't think," Ron said, wanting to change the topic, "Ever figure out the cause to the fires?"
"That's privileged," Kristen said.
"Look up!" the hat snapped into Ron.
Ron glanced up, a flower pot hurled down toward them. Ron pushed Kristen to the side, into the road as the pot smashed onto the pavement, shards of dull orange ceramic scattered across the sidewalk.
"Hey!" came the shout, ahead from the Church Road Pub.
A man glared at another.
"Gunners took the win!" the second man shouted.
In near tandem, Kristen and Ron bolted toward them. Ron wedged himself between the two men, pushed them apart as fists kept swinging.
"Explain yourselves!" Kristen snapped.
Ron smelled the alcohol on these two mens' breaths.
"Gunners stole from the Boro!" the first man snapped.
Ron stared at the first man's eyes, the determination and the loyalty, he recognized from his own admiration of the Chudley Canons, except this was for the underwhelming muggle sport of ordinary Football. Ron stared at the second, the passion for his team, the Gunners, was strong over the intoxication.
"I'll handle this," Kristen said, "Go on ahead—need treatment?"
Ron relaxed as another officer came to assist her, and he walked along the road. It took a moment to notice a bit of blood coming from his nose. Ron held it, and kept moving, wondered about Hermione.
Hermione shivered as she watched the caskets being lowered into the ground beneath the gray sky above; her eyes focused on the burial, didn't notice the red haired Ron beneath a tree a short distance away. Instead, she felt unseasonably warm despite the frozen ground. No words needed as she took the first scoop of dirt from the pile, moved the soil and dropped it in; a tear flowed down her face.
Hermione returned to the sedan, the dents still there, and got into the still air. She brought her diary into her lap and put the muggle pen to the parchment.
"Ooh," Mark said, in the middle, "Your diary!"
"Shut it," Hermione remarked.
"You both were fast," Aunt Cindy said as she got in.
"I'm an icicle!" Mark said.
"I did what I was expected to do," Hermione replied as Trenise got in on the other side.
"I'm stuck next to him!" Trenise exclaimed as Uncle Jarrod put the crutches into the boot.
Mark stuck his tongue out at Trenise.
"Mum!" Trenise complained.
"Behave, the both of you," Aunt Cindy said as Uncle Jarrod got into the driver's seat.
Hermione, grateful for the heat of the vent, felt a bit warmer as the car crept out of the cemetery.
"Dunno if I'm doing alright by you," Uncle Jarrod said to Hermione, "My folks are still around, so, sorry, I don't really know what it's like—not yet."
"Love's the best medicine," Aunt Cindy remarked, "Remember the love your folks had for you."
"Ta," Hermione said.
They passed through the roads, went through the gates of the country club, and Uncle Jarrod parked.
"Coming?" Aunt Cindy asked.
"In a moment," Hermione said after Trenise and Mark got out.
"Lock the doors when you do," Aunt Cindy said.
Hermione brought the diary back up to her lap, the muggle pen a bit more convenient to the quill.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Friday, 3 Jan, 1997
Dear Diary
Buried Mom & Dad today. Sometimes I wish I had a brother or a sister, that Mom and Dad had given that, but alas, they didn't; I made do with Harry and Ron at Hogwarts—wish they'd write and show up, like Ron would even bother.
Hermione closed it, returned it to the duffel bag at her feet, and got out of the car. Cold of the wind got beneath her dress after the door latched. She pulled on the latch, it was locked, and her wand was inside her jumper inside the car. Hermione glanced at the front porch, and ran; up the steps, the steam billowed off her breath before she got inside.
Hermione glanced around, the wood paneling, the tables with people eating around them—funeral flowers everywhere. Hermione went up to the buffet table in the middle, grabbed a warm plate in her hands. It smelled good, and she wondered if her parents really would've wanted the fudge nearby. Her eyes went between the dishes, most full of meat like the meatballs, the lamb, and her hand was indecisive on what to choose, when she heard the new breath.
"Cheese seems popular," Ron stated.
Hermione turned her head toward him, the same boy she knew before. Red hair, blue eyes, an open muggle suit that showed no shirt beneath, trousers, black Hogwarts school shoes, and a light gray outback hat on the head that reminded her of the one Mr. Weasley wore. This was the boy she hadn't heard a peep from in weeks, now standing there as if nothing's transpired.
"Ron," Hermione said as her eyes turned back to the selection, "I wish I had more to say."
"I know people wear black to look ugly," Ron said, "But it didn't work on you. Can we—talk? Talk in private?"
Her plate still barren, Hermione set it down before she glanced back to those blue eyes. Ron's eyes, ones that seemed to be teasing for more out of her tongue.
"Please?" Ron asked, "Whether you're in or out for me, we still need to talk."
She glanced down the front of the black suit, his naval between the two open halves.
"Um…" Hermione muttered, before her eyes returned to his pleading eyes, "Guess so."
Hermione followed Ron to the back door.
"Freezing…" Hermione started.
"Forgetting your blood?" Ron said as he opened the door.
Hermione shivered as she stepped outside into the oncoming evening. A brief glimpse, for a split second, of a wand in his hand, and she warmed up.
"How?" Hermione asked, unable to follow the wand except that it vanished from her sight.
"Still not private enough for all but the most important question," Ron said as they began to walk along the idle golf trail, "Can you forgive me?"
"After all this—" Hermione started.
Ron turned to her, the blue eyes caused hers to glance down at the bare chest beneath the suit jacket, the stomach tightened.
"Blimey!" Ron said, "I screwed up and I'm sorry."
"Oh," Hermione uttered, not expecting the forthright apology.
"You know how thick headed and dimwitted I can be," Ron said, "I thought it funny, but I know better now. I didn't realize how much I had hurt you, and I missed you. I'm sorry we—was that a breakup?"
"Jury's still out," Hermione replied, not really wanting the groveling to stop.
"I panicked when I saw the house burning in the The Daily Prophet," Ron said.
"It made the The Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked.
"I came as fast as I could, but—I'm sorry about your parents," Ron said, "No matter how much I try to sweet talk it, it'll always hurt. Thought you had joined them, and I panicked cause I thought you were gone."
"Oh," Hermione said, her mind hadn't considered that, "Why didn't you write?"
"I tried—repeatedly," Ron said, "Your Untrackable Charm, remember? Woke up to a zoo—"
"Oh! I had totally forgotten—" Hermione said, "Of all the chaos…"
"Even got cited for misuse of magic trying to find you," Ron said, before his eyes pierced into her, "And…something else is bothering you, isn't it?"
"No…not really…I try to tell myself it wasn't important," Hermione said as her last memories of the fighting, her last words to them came back to her, the tears began to well, "But Mum and Dad—I didn't agree—we were angry the last time I…it's too late to make up."
"Here," Ron suggested, his hands motioned, drew her closer, until her head went onto his shoulder.
"So angry they sent me to Cardiff," Hermione said, hearing Ron's breath, heartbeat, the first time in weeks that things started to seem normal, "It's why…it's why I wasn't there."
Hermione's hands reached down, felt into the trousers at what she thought was there, his interest firm. Not that she needed an explanation, she was pressed against him.
"You're…" Hermione started.
"Smartest and brightest witch of the era," Ron said as his hand glided against her rear, "It thinks better than my noggin."
Hermione snorted, snickered.
"Though not as good as my hat," Ron said.
Hermione glanced up to it, a style similar to his father's.
"Now I know you're pulling my leg," Hermione said.
"Can do that too," Ron said, a grin to his face.
"So," Hermione asked, "Where's Harry?"
"That's complicated—best not discussed here," Ron said, "After the reception—come by, you know where, and we'll talk, in the study?"
"You mean at her—?" Hermione started, realizing he meant Gia's.
"Don't speak it," Ron said, as he nodded. She did.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"Since you've not read a single The Daily Prophet since you left, yeah, much to catch up on, but not here," Ron said, "Anyways, that boy at the service, your new boyfriend?"
Hermione plied her fingers into the fabric of the trousers, pinched.
"Ow!" Ron said.
"He's my cousin!" Hermione snapped.
"Seemed a bit young," Ron said, "Still, at least his parents already know you."
"You're—" Hermione started as she stepped back from him.
"Feeling better?" Ron asked.
Those piercing blue eyes on her, ones that beamed out from beneath the bangs of his red hair, and that hat. A smug grin to his face, one that hinted at his desire to simply want to cheer her up without having to resort to a cheering charm.
"They're going to start asking about me," Hermione said.
Ron turned, elbow out, and she grabbed it, they began to walk back to the club.
"I wasn't…faithful, if you're wondering," Hermione said, "There was this boy, JJ, in Cardiff."
"I had a boyfriend too," Ron stated.
"You're kidding," Hermione said.
"Never trust my brothers' potions," Ron said, "Especially before a muggle party. Woke up the next morning in bed with two other guys."
Hermione snorted, laughed at the thought, paused at the threshold to the country club, wind against them.
"You're funny," Hermione said.
Ron reached for the door.
"What is going on?" Hermione asked.
"Go in, flirt with your cousin," Ron said, "Unless you'd rather I hit on him?"
Hermione snorted, felt the warm air as she walked back into the social hall. She did wonder what had Ron in a panic though.
"Weasley did make it to the reception," Wormtail said to the Seeker, "Despite being detained by that muggle cop."
"Did you see those two muggles at each others throats?" the Seeker said as they hid behind the dumpster behind the church, "The suggestion worked, too bad I wasn't outside to witness the pot."
"Don't get too complacent," Wormtail said.
"It's perfect," the Seeker said, "Granger's parents are now buried—good riddance; Weasley's a troublemaker to the coppers; that leaves Potter no where near here to interfere. Nope, it's a good spot to dump the rubbish."
Hermione walked over to the growing pile of sympathy cards next to the guest ledger, most of the cards still loose in their envelopes. One, however, was in an envelope of parchment, and Hermione picked it up. This envelope was addressed using clippings from newspapers, to Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter. Hermione opened it, read the letter spelled in similar clippings glued to parchment.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
A toll has been exacted for misdeeds done, orphans.
Hermione's stomach dropped, along with the letter onto the table. She bolted to the ladies room, sat her butt onto the parlor's padded bench, began to cry once she realized the truth, that it was premediated murder.
"Wrong room," Hermione said as Ron entered.
"Was merely joking," Ron said, "About you and your cousin."
"Sorry," Hermione said.
"I don't own you, Hermione," Ron said as he leaned back against the wall.
Footsteps outside, Ron aimed his hand, the wand flashed for a split second before the knob was jiggled.
"Who'd lock the ladies' room?" said one female voice.
"Suppose it's closed for cleaning," said another.
"We've got…maybe a few minutes," Ron said, "Suggest we make use of it."
Hermione watched Ron.
"I read the letter," Ron said, holding the parchment out of the breast pocket, "Not…out of expectations."
"You expected this?" Hermione asked.
"Not exactly," Ron replied, "Rumor is it was a love potion gone wrong, that's why the house was destroyed and your parents are dead."
"What?" Hermione stammered.
"Anybody in there?" came the voice that accompanied the knock and a jiggle of the door knob.
"Sorry!" Hermione shouted, "Stunk the place up—five minutes!"
"Come with me?" Ron asked her.
Hermione stood, went for the door.
"I'm first," Hermione said as she unlocked the lever on the door.
Hermione opened the door, went out, and glanced around at the tables, all people busy talking and eating. She waved; Ron followed her out.
"Hungry?" Ron asked her.
"I'm fine," Hermione replied.
"Tell somebody?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Hermione said as she pulled Ron over to Aunt Cindy and Uncle Jarrod.
"Hermione?" Aunt Cindy asked.
"This is Ron," Hermione said.
"Hi!" Trenise said.
"She's told us all about you," Aunt Cindy said as she stood.
"We're going—home," Hermione said, figured a lie was best, "His place."
"Not too far," Ron said.
"We can drive—not an imposition," Uncle Jarrod said.
"You've been very generous," Hermione said, "But I'd rather you enjoy the reception, if that's alright."
"Something—?" Aunt Cindy asked as she came in close.
"I'm fine—better than fine," Hermione said, "I'll be able to get to school now—he knows the trains." She figured that lie was easier than explaining Portkeys. "Get replacement school supplies too."
"I let her do the thinking," Ron said.
"Good man," Uncle Jarrod replied.
"We'll swing by in a couple of days, visit," Aunt Cindy said, "Alright?"
"Um…sure," Hermione said.
Hermione turned.
"Keys?" Uncle Jarrod asked.
"I'll be sure to lock the door this time," Hermione lied.
Ron put a nook to his arm, she held it, and they walked out of the country club. She felt Ron's warming charm hit her fast, the light of the street lamps reflected against the clouds above. Hermione led Ron to the dark dented sedan.
"This?" Ron asked, his eyes on her. "Alohamora!"
This time, Hermione wasn't even certain if his wand was drawn, but he opened the back door.
"Learned that from you," Ron said as Hermione leaned in. She grabbed her pink jumper, with her wand, put that on, and zippered her diary into the duffel bag. "Looks good on you."
"You would!" Hermione said.
Hermione shut the door, duffel bag in her left, while her right removed her wand.
"Hermione!" Ron said as she aimed it at the large dents in the front fender.
"Reparo!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Lets hurry," Ron said.
Hermione stashed her wand, walked with Ron.
"It's okay when you do it!" Hermione snapped.
"And I've had penalties!" Ron said, "You know I don't mind breaking the rules, I mind getting caught."
"You and Harry both," Hermione said.
"Something else," Ron said, "That boyfriend—in Cardiff?"
Hermione picked up on the desire, went with it.
"JJ—understand I was mad at you," Hermione said.
"Understatement of the night," Ron said, "I worried it was permanent."
"Don't take me for granted," Hermione said, "Still could be."
"Want to go back?" Ron asked.
"No," Hermione said, "JJ was handsome and cute…" She went into the story, to the discovery with Alice. "You?"
They came to number twenty six, Oak Street. Ron turned the knob on the green front door in the brick, pushed it open.
"I'll be in the study in a moment," Ron said as he went for the steps, "Gotta return this suit."
Hermione glanced at the stairs, covered in dried red.
"What the—?" Hermione said, "Nobody's cleaned—?"
"Ant and Richard had a food fight," Ron said, "You know how busy Kurt and Kristen are. I'll be back in a moment."
Ron went up the stairs. Hermione walked toward the dining room, entered, took the hard right into the small room with a sofa facing the plants on the window sill. Hermione pulled the sliding doors closed, removed her dress along with her pink jumper, set them on the back before she sat on the sofa. A slide of the doors behind her, and a jump.
Meow!
"Crookshanks!" Hermione cried out as the ginger cat jumped up into her lap, "I thought…"
She held, petted the cat eager for attention.
"Found him a week ago, brought him here," Ron said as he came around sofa, placed a stack of The Daily Prophet onto the end table along with a few other items.
She glanced up on him, without any clothes on, along with the hair halfway up.
"Glad he was outside chasing—whatever," Hermione said.
Ron sat down next to her, reached over, rubbed the belly of the cat.
"Also got your trunk out of the burning house," Ron said, his blues on her, "Didn't want the muggles to find that."
"It survived?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Ron said, holding up the silver ring, the same one she had flung aside weeks ago, "Even when you hated me, I still protected you as best as I could, not knowing, even got citations for it."
Crookshanks curled up in her lap as she fingered the ring. She glanced at the boy, the one who faced his fears years ago to help solve the riddle of the basilisk, to help her. Didn't quite feel right.
"Not yet," Hermione said, returned the ring.
"Alright," Ron said, placing it back with the stack of newsprint.
Ron turned, right knee up with the foot going underneath his left foot, his arousal clear as he held up his right wrist out to her. She turned to her left, did the same with her legs, their knees touched, and Crookshanks returned to her lap.
"You've been wondering," Ron said, as his eyes focused.
Faster than fast, his wand materialized in his right hand.
"How?" Hermione said, "You can't conjure—"
"Not conjuring," Ron said, "Summoning, wandlessly."
"From where?" Hermione asked.
"Watch again," Ron said.
Hermione focused on the fourteen inch willow, and it vanished.
"Banished," Ron said, "Could you see the charm?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Here," Ron said, as he brought a brown loop of dragon hide to his right wrist.
She spotted it, the loop of red with two wands secured into it, on Ron's right wrist, a Hogwarts pin tucked in.
"That's Harry's—" Hermione started, her eyes focused on the Holly wand next to Ron's.
"He's the second story," Ron said, "As to these holsters, they are a gift from Mr. Ollivander, to you, me, and Harry, in exchange for defeating You–Know–Who. A Fidelius Charm protects them, any of our wands will hide in them, but they also need to remain a secret between us. But, you can only summon or banish your own wand, so, I can't accidentally bring out Harry's wand, only mine. Watch again."
Hermione watched, this time, she spotted the wand making the jump into Ron's hand, before it jumped back into the holster.
"You figured this out?" Hermione asked, holding Ron's wrist.
"Hermione, I'm thick headed but not a complete dimwit," Ron said, "I eventually figure things out, and without you or Harry around, had nothing else to do."
Hermione snorted.
"So," Ron said as he reached behind him, grabbed a brown loop, brought it to her, "Think Mr. Ollivander had these reflect our hair color so I could tell them apart."
Hermione snorted, again.
"So, need your right wrist," Ron said.
"Thinking of becoming left handed," Hermione said as Ron's left hand held her right wrist up.
"You're kidding?" Ron's right hand brought the brown loop to her wrist, it held on. "Easy enough to change."
Ron reached for her pink jumper, brought her wand down, point toward him as he threaded it into the holster. Her eyes, though, latched onto his naval.
"Had to sneak this out with Mum watching me pack," Hermione said, "They wanted me to abandon magic, they were going to withdraw me from Hogwarts."
"Oh," Ron said, his left hand reached along with his right, held her hands.
This was the concerned Ron, the one paying attention, the one she could trust, even with his interest showing as his eyes loitered on the brassiere in the middle of her chest. It was the idiot Ron she worried about surfacing again.
"I didn't want that, of course," Hermione said, "I even cursed Mum out at the station—my last words to her."
"So they sent you to Cardiff?" Ron asked.
Hermione returned to petting the cat in her lap.
"To chill the fight, yes," Hermione said, "They were going to come out for Christmas, try to renegotiate."
"Should I guess to why they wanted to withdraw you?" Ron asked.
A piercing glance from Ron's blue eyes and she stared down at his chest, Ron's bare chest, the one that moved in and out with his breaths, nipples to either side.
"What'd you expect?" Hermione said, "It's not like the owl about my suspension helped, or the trial they were informed about after the fact, or that I couldn't be safe attending Hogwarts, but they were killed at home, a spot that should've been safe. I know they're right, it's not safe to attend Hogwarts, not as friends of Harry."
"We're doing Harry good," Ron said, "You weren't there, the first Christmas at Hogwarts, where Harry was surprised he had presents at all."
"Really?" Hermione asked.
"And that committee had to go meddling in his affairs," Ron said, "Ordering him to breakup—"
"That was awful," Hermione said, "And he supposedly went through with it!" Though Harry didn't seem upset.
"He proposed," Ron said, "Him and Gia are engaged."
Hermione began to laugh, Harry was clever in a way she wasn't, she could connect the dots between the books she read, Harry had an intuition better than hers.
"I did the wrong thing for the right reason," Ron said, "I wanted to get that committee to back off, but the ends do not justify the means, and I'm sorry for how that played out. It's also why I've still got Harry's wand, I confiscated it while he was…drunk."
"It means he's defenseless," Hermione said, watched as Ron rubbed Crookshanks' belly.
"If I knew where he was—I would return it," Ron said, "But he slipped out of Hogwarts that night, Gia's missing. Upstairs I found his suspension letter, and one of the printouts we had done, a swinger's ski resort we passed over because it'd be too private. Where'd you think he'd go?"
"There, obviously," Hermione said.
"And Snape said Voldemort complained about muggle breasts," Ron said, "Harry is there, with her, skiing or playing around in the honeymoon suite. I burned that printout, so I can't get the details."
"You destroyed evidence?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, because Harry needs the time there over whatever prison Dumbledore intends," Ron said, "Because Dumbledore is getting pressured to hand Harry over to his committee, I mean, really pressured, so him and his gang have been trying to pressure me, even going so far as to try to induct me into their order."
"Order?" Hermione asked.
"Old crowd," Ron said, before he explained the order and the invitation to join.
"Surely, such a group, we're fighting Voldemort too," Hermione said.
"We're already a group—you, me, and Harry," Ron said, "Allied with this order, sure, but my loyalty is with Harry, and I don't want to be obligated to harm him. Anyways, it'd be moot, you'd need guardian permission—"
"Got myself emancipated," Hermione said, "I figured if you two blokes could manage it—"
Ron laughed, his smile on her.
"You're a smart witch," Ron said, "Happy to have you back."
"That part is—obvious," Hermione said as she glanced down below his stomach.
Ron yawned, stood up, and stretched.
"Anyways, read all about it, the papers are here," Ron said, "Let you catch up on how we're getting blamed for everything, including Justin Finch–Fletchley's disappearance."
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Vanished several weeks ago," Ron said, "Harry's impostor was spotted around the same spot."
"Great," Hermione muttered.
"I'll be upstairs," Ron said, his rear showed as he left the study.
Hermione glanced at the ring, on top of the top one, the reminder, and the question, did she want to pickup from where they had left off, did she forgive Ron?
"You can always take it back off," Hermione said to herself.
Hermione grabbed the ring, slipped it back onto the finger, where the small indent had remained. She picked up the top paper, from the date of their fallout the previous month, and began to read.
"It's done," the Seeker said to the Keeper, "He's cured of breathing while muggleborn."