Thank you all for reading this! This is the final chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Although it could probably continue indefinitely, I'll keep it as a Deathly Hallows AU :)
~Malfoy Manor, Spring 1998~
Ron had never felt so helpless. Even when he had been wearing the locket, he could still act. When he was splinched, he could hold her. He could use his other arm to save her life if needed. He would have risked completely losing an arm if it meant he could disapparate her away from here. Fuck, he'd sacrifice his own life to trade places.
Hermione's screams pierced the air, and Ron resorted to slamming his fist into the wall, repeatedly, until his knuckles bled. "HERMIONE!"
"That's not going to help," said Luna calmly.
"I fucking know that." How the bloody hell was she so nonchalant? Ron narrowed his eyes at Luna, who looked frail and thin. Her skin bore the same color as the grey-white walls of the dungeon, and her voice had less strength than a whisper. She must have been in here a while.
"We just have to form a better plan," she said. "Pause and think."
Luna's optimism was usually contagious, but not today. Watching her stare at the wall in despair made Ron realize he had mistaken her sense of defeat for calm.
Ron winced as Hermione screamed again, the sound even more blood curdling than before. Rather than punching the wall, he jumped into action, but he couldn't apparate into the drawing room where Hermione was being tortured and whisk her away. He needed a wand. He raced up the dungeon stairs toward the door to the dungeon, and with his non-bloody fist, he banged on the wood.
"What are you doing, Ron?" asked Harry from the other corner of the basement.
"Trying to get someone to open the door."
"That's not going to work," said Harry.
"Well, if you have a better idea then, I'm all ears!" Ron continued to bang on the door. "HERMIONE!"
"Harry, what is that in your sock?" asked Luna.
No one fucking cares what's in his sock.
"It's a mirror," said Harry, his voice growing frantic. "Not helpful now."
"Oh but it is," said Luna. "Ask it for help!"
Ron had no choice but to tune Luna out or else his rage would increase ten fold. Let her talk to mirrors, but Ron needed a real plan. He paused his banging on the door and put his ear up to hear the commotion in the drawing room. His heart raced in pace with the footsteps on the other side that seemed to be getting louder.
"Harry get over here, someone's coming."
Harry appeared at Ron's side. Their eyes met for a brief moment before the door burst open, and they sprang into action.
Wormtail entered the dungeon, his wand dangling from his four-fingered hand. He froze when he spotted Ron and Harry standing there, towering over him.
Ron crashed into Wormtail during his brief moment of hesitation. He reached for his shoulders and by summoning the remaining energy in his body, he threw him to the ground. Harry wrestled Wormtail's wand from his hand, and pointed it at him.
The man scurried back a few paces and made a lame attempt to rise to his feet, but Harry was quicker.
"Petrificus Totalus."
Ron and Harry watched as Wormtail's body hardened and crashed back into the cold dungeon floor with a thud.
A loud crack caused Ron to jump. He whipped around to see a house elf standing in the middle of the dungeon.
"Dobby!?" said Ron. "What are you doing here?"
"Harry Potter summoned me," said Dobby.
"I did?" asked Harry.
"With the mirror. You asked for help."
Luna was fucking right , thought Ron.
"Dobby, you can apparate without a wand! You can get us out of here!" exclaimed Harry.
Dobby nodded fervently.
"Take them to Shell Cottage," said Ron. "That's where my brother lives."
"Yes sir!" said Dobby, as he skipped over toward Griphook, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander.
"Go with them, Ron," said Harry.
At that very moment, another one of Hermione's piercing screams filled the room.
"No," said Ron.
"Go."
Ron shook his head. "I have to get Hermione."
Harry must have seen the pleading look in Ron's eyes, because he nodded calmly before turning back to Dobby. "Take them now."
With another crack, Dobby, along with the rest of Malfoy Manor's prisoners disappeared.
Everything else happened so quickly. As soon as Harry and Ron entered the drawing room, they took advantage of another moment of hesitation. This time, it was Draco Malfoy who paused. Harry used Wormtail's wand to disarm Malfoy and tossed it to Ron, catching both Wormtail and Malfoy's wands in the air as they flew to him. Ron snatched Wormtail's wand and pointed it at Bellatrix.
"Expelliarmus," shouted Ron, and Bellatrix's wand flew from her hand into Ron's.
Ron glanced at Hermione and his heart sank. She lay in a pile on the floor, looking limp and lifeless from a distance, but upon a closer look, he could see her chest rising and falling.
She was still breathing.
After casting body-bind curses on everyone else in the room but Bellatrix, Ron and Harry found themselves standing together on one end of the drawing room, Hermione and Bellatrix on the other.
Ron pointed his wand to stupefy Bellatrix, but she was too quick. She drew a knife from her pocket and held it to Hermione's neck. "You curse me, I kill her."
Fuck .
"Drop your wands," said Bellatrix.
At once, Harry and Ron dropped the wands they had collected from the remaining death eaters.
Time seemed to stop as Ron watched the knife that Bellatrix held to Hermione. How ironic that the woman who hated muggles would kill her with a non-magical method. Panicking, Ron tried to think of something he could do, but he knew if he even reached for one of the wands, Bellatrix would act.
Ron stared at Hermione, willing her to wake up so that she could fight back.
They were caught in a standoff, which had the potential to last a million years, and Ron's palms broke out in sweat knowing he was helpless. They needed an intervention, at the very least a miracle to get out of this.
Or, a house elf. A creak of wires caught Ron's attention, and he looked up to see the chandelier above Hermione and Bellatrix swaying, Dobby hanging on the top of it, unscrewing the lights from the chains.
Brilliant. Ron hadn't even heard him apparate in.
Bellatrix looked up just as the chandelier began to fall. She screamed, throwing Hermione as she dodged out of the way.
At that moment Ron reached for the wands and bolted over to Hermione. Harry ran to Dobby. As soon as they reunited, they disappeared into apparition.
Ron took a hold of Hermione and looked her in the eyes, where an almost imperceptible glimmer of life still flickered.
"You're going to be okay," he whispered to her as he pocketed the wands. He glanced at Bellatrix. She laid on the ground with her head in her hands, composing herself. He only had a few moments to act. A few feet away from her sat her knife, glinting in the light from the window. Without thinking too much about it, Ron scrambled for the knife and shoved it in his pocket, then cradled Hermione in his arms and disapparated.
~Shell Cottage, Spring 1998~
They landed on the beach, and Ron immediately flocked to Hermione. He pressed a finger to the side of her neck and felt for a heartbeat, breathing a sigh of relief when her blood still pulsed beneath his hand. The rest of the crew ran to them — Harry, Luna, Dean, Griphook, Ollivander, and Dobby.
"She needs pain potion and Skelegro," said Luna. "Do you have that?"
Ron thought back to the last time he was at Shell Cottage. Fleur had a pretty decent stock of medical supplies, which she had used to tend to the lingering pain in his arm from being splinched. "I think Fleur does."
Ron heard shuffling footsteps in the distance, and looked up to see Bill and Fleur running from the cottage.
"Is everyone okay?" panted Bill.
"Hermione needs help," said Ron.
Bill placed a comforting arm on Ron's shoulder. Ron wiped at his face, and realized the wet and salty sensation wasn't from the sea, but from his tears. He had probably been crying for a while without noticing.
"Let's bring her upstairs," said Fleur. "We need to assess her injuries."
Together, Bill and Ron carried Hermione back up the beach to the safety of Shell Cottage.
x
Fleur had taken Hermione to one of their guest rooms so that she could examine her injuries in private, and the others had collapsed onto pull-out beds in the living room, catching up on desperately-needed sleep. Bill sat with Ron and Harry at the kitchen table; the worry-lines etched across his face looked deeper than ever.
"What happened to her?" he asked gravely, his voice quiet.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, and managed to communicate a plan without words. Keeping their whole mission a secret meant staying hush about every detail, including what happened at Malfoy Manor, but Ron didn't want to. And by the permissive look on Harry's face, he didn't need to either. After all, Bill was a cursebreaker, he knew a whole lot about dark magic, and he could possibly help.
Ron sent Harry a pleading glance, and to his surprise, Harry nodded.
"She was tortured," said Ron. "By Bellatrix."
Bill's eyes went dark and he nodded in understanding. "Tell me everything."
x
For the first week, Hermione stirred in and out of consciousness, never for enough time to have a conversation. Fleur had kept her full of sleeping draught so that her body could rest enough to heal, and for that Ron was thankful. But he slept in the armchair by her bed every single night, silently wishing that she would wake up.
One night, Ron was awoken by the sound of rustling sheets. He glanced over to her bed to see her tossing and turning, a grimace twisting across her face. Ron's heart sank upon realizing what kind of horrors could be invading her dreams. Without thinking twice, he stood up from the armchair and crawled into bed with her. He wrapped her up in his arms, and her wriggling immediately calmed. Without waking up, she settled against him, and eventually, her breathing slowed and steadied until she fell back into a more peaceful sleep.
Ron kissed her forehead and allowed himself to rest too.
x
The following morning, a bright ray of sunlight pierced through the curtains and roused Ron from his sleep. It took him a second to remember where he was — every morning he woke up tense and on edge, his body stiff and rigid. But this morning, the sight of Hermione in his arms alleviated all his worries.
He pulled her closer and buried his face in her neck, once again wishing she'd wake up.
This time, she did.
"Ron," came her voice, soft and tentative. The last time he'd heard her voice was in the form of a scream, and this was a beautiful contrast.
"Hermione," he said. "You're awake."
She turned to face him, wincing in the process. Then she nodded. "I'm really glad you're here."
He kept his arm around her as she softened back into his body. Those three words had been living on the tip of his tongue since he'd first made his way back from Shell Cottage months ago. Was now an okay time to say them? Would there ever be a good time?
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?" she answered without opening her eyes.
Ron froze — why was it so hard to say those words? It felt wrong to bombard her with how he felt the minute she woke up from a near coma. But still, she deserved to know.
"I love you, Hermione."
Hermione's eyes shot open. "Really?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah. 'Bout time you knew that."
Hermione crashed her lips against his and tightened her grip around him. It felt like their first kiss all over again, but this time, instead of pushing her up against a countertop, he cradled her gently, as if afraid she might break.
He let himself get lost in kissing her, showing her his love with every playful bite of her lip and gentle caress of her hair. But, in the midst of the warmth she gave him sat a lump that grew in his stomach, which became more prominent with each passing second that she didn't say it back.
x
The following evening took on a different tone than the last. As everyone settled into being guests at Shell Cottage, embracing the hospitality that could only come from a Weasley residence, the anxiety of being imprisoned at Malfoy Manor started to fade. To add to the newfound lightness in the air, Remus Lupin had arrived to announce the birth of his son, Teddy.
The announcement had further shifted the ambience at Bill and Fleur's home to that of a celebration. Ron partook in a few shots of Firewhiskey in honor of the occasion, but he wasn't really in the mood to party. Not in the middle of a war.
Even Hermione had joined in for a few festivities, although she spent the majority of the evening curled up on the couch with a mug of hot tea instead of firewhiskey. Eventually, Ron joined his brother on the porch, who also appeared not to be in the mindset for a celebration.
"Hello," said Ron as he took a seat across from Bill.
Bill nodded and passed him a bottle of butterbeer. Ron's mind had already begun to spin with what was most likely a firewhiskey buzz, but he took Bill's offer up anyway. After all, he didn't get many opportunities to sit back and relax with a beer anymore.
"She looks a lot better," said Bill. He nodded toward Hermione, still on the sofa in the living room, curled up in a blanket next to Luna.
"Thanks to Fleur," said Ron. He'd be eternally grateful to his sister-in-law for what she had done for Hermione.
"She's amazing," said Bill.
On the topic of the women in their lives, there was one minor thing Ron wanted Bill's advice on. As if sensing Ron's question, Bill got there first.
"How did Hermione react when you returned?" he asked. "Angry?"
Thinking of the memory made Ron chuckle. "Angry is an understatement."
"She seems to have forgiven you."
Ron shrugged. "We slept together."
Bill raised an eyebrow. "With Harry there?"
"He was on watch. In another room."
Bill took a long swig of his butterbeer. "Teenagers."
Ron followed his lead and took a sip of his own, buying time to bring up the real reason he wanted to talk to Bill. "I think she's still mad at me, though."
"So it was angry sex, huh?" The wistful look on Bill's face made Ron want to change the subject fast, but he carried on.
"Not angry… just not fully forgiven."
Bill shook his head as though trying to erase an image from his mind. "Things are okay now though?"
Ron looked toward the living room, where Hermione sat, now next to Harry. Her face was bright and lively, her smile dancing in a way he hadn't seen in a while. And yet, the dancing smile didn't quite reach her eyes, which remained expressionless. "No, things aren't okay."
Bill raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Say more."
So Ron told him everything. About how she barely spoke to him when he returned. He detailed how they slowly progressed forward until they slept together every night, but they still wouldn't really talk in the morning. Even though physically they caught right back up to where they left off, even surpassed that, something was still off. And after the ordeal at Malfoy Manor, he worried it would always be off.
"I told her I loved her this morning. She didn't say it back."
"What did she do instead?"
"Kissed me."
Bill shook his head and laughed. "That's a good sign, Ron."
Ron shrugged, "I don't know, it seemed like a way for her to avoid saying anything."
"So she didn't say it back. Maybe she's not ready for that. You did leave her in the woods, remember?"
"I'll never forgive myself—"
"She almost died, Ron. She's probably not thinking about love."
Ron let that thought sit with him for a moment. When he was splinched, the last thing he thought about was love. Maybe that wasn't entirely the influence of the locket like he had thought.
"When you were recovering from Greyback, how were things with Fleur?"
Bill pointed the tip of his bottle at Ron, indicating he'd hit the nail on the head. "I couldn't think about her much at all. And we were engaged . I was doing my best to not die."
"When did that change?"
"It changed when I was healed. A few weeks before the wedding."
Ron looked back at Hermione. This time she caught his eye and smiled softly. He smiled back.
"She loves you, Ron. Just give her time to realize it."
x
Later that night, after the celebrations had died down and everyone had — for the most part — retreated to their beds, Ron found himself in Hermione's room. Her body was still except for the gentle rise and fall of her breath. It made sense she was already asleep, as she had crashed pretty much immediately when Lupin left. Ron smiled when he saw that she had positioned herself on the far side of the bed, leaving more than enough room for him to crawl under the covers with her.
So that's what he did. Ron settled in under the blankets and wrapped an arm around her waist. Even though she was sound asleep, she seemed to respond to his embrace. She leaned into him, and he buried his face in her hair, letting the sound of her rhythmic breathing lull him to sleep.
I love you, Hermione.
x
Day by day, Hermione continued to recover, and the trio began plotting their next plan of attack. Knowing that there was most likely a horcrux in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault, the next step seemed obvious. Break into Gringotts.
They had a Goblin's help, Bellatrix's wand, as well as a few strands of hair that Hermione had located on her robes. Harry had his invisibility cloak. And Ron had the ability to transfigure himself into anyone else. How hard could it be?
Ron's stomach dropped when he saw Hermione emerge from the bathroom. She was much taller than usual, her bushy brown hair had transformed to jet-black locks, and her face was lined with the stress of having spent many years in Azkaban.
"You look... great," said Ron, trying to hide disgust in his face.
"Oh really?" she asked. "Is this what you like?" Hermione took a twirl and flipped Bellatrix's hair over her shoulder.
"No actually, I kind of hate it."
"Are you calling me ugly?" asked Hermione. Her smirk looked so misplaced on Bellatrix's face.
"Only on the outside."
The door to the guest room burst open, and in came Harry. Ron let out a sigh, and was unsure if it was from relief or annoyance.
"Okay, let's get Ron transfigured."
"Right," said Hermione, before turning back to Ron and examining his face. "I think you'd look good with a beard."
"Noted," said Ron.
Hermione muffled a smile and got to work on his face.
"Make me look handsome," he whispered to her, hoping he was out of Harry's earshot.
"I'll do my best."
Ron did his best to sit still as Hermione transfigured him, while trying not to look her in the eye. Honestly, seeing Hermione as Bellatrix in front of him sent shivers down his spine, but not because of who she looked like, but because it was strangely fitting — a perfect representation of the distance that persisted between them ever since Malfoy Manor.
Just give her time.
Bill's words played in Ron's mind as Hermione continued adjusting his disguise. His only option was to be patient and honestly, after all this time, that was the least he owed her.
~Hogsmeade~
Ron had stopped trusting time, as the events of the past few hours might as well have taken place over months. He could hardly believe that earlier that day they were preparing for their break into Gringotts at Shell Cottage. Since then, they'd managed to secure their way to Bellatrix's vault, snatch Hufflepuff's cup, and escape on a dragon. Ron could count at least ten near-death experiences for each of them.
Now, as they sat in Aberforth Dumbledore's kitchen, all Ron could think about was how high the stakes were. All he wanted was a moment alone with Hermione. As Aberforth droned on, Ron caught Hermione's eye, and she sent him a soft, wistful smile. The same kind of smile she'd been sending him all along, the one that suggested hidden emotion brewed underneath. Her face was covered in minor cuts and scars, her hair was matted and frizzy, and yet she was beautiful. Ron wished he had a mirror to see the toll the day's events had taken on him.
"Ariana, go," Aberforth told the portrait of his sister. The woman in the portrait nodded and turned away down the long corridor behind her.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched the portrait in awe until Ariana came back. Upon her return, she reached for the side of the portrait as if it was a doorknob, and it opened. Out stepped Neville Longbottom.
"Neville!" shouted Ron, Harry, and Hermione in unison. The three jumped to their feet and ran to greet him.
Neville's face lit up the moment he saw them, but other than the sudden elation in his features, he appeared to be in rough shape. His gaunt face held shadows that signified Hogwarts was no longer a place of cozy evenings by the fire, great hall feasts, and quidditch matches, but something much darker.
"Are you okay, Neville?" asked Hermione. "You look—"
"Awful, I know," said Neville with a shrug. "The Carrows did a number on me. But all things considered, I'm doing great!"
Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look of concern, but Neville didn't seem to notice. Instead he beamed and motioned for them to follow.
"Let's go to the castle. Everyone will be so happy to see you!"
"Everyone?" asked Harry.
"Everyone," repeated Neville as he turned and made his way down the long corridor.
As if reading his mind, Hermione stayed back as Neville and Harry traveled further into the tunnel so she could walk next to Ron. There were no words to express what he wanted to say, so he slipped his hand into hers and hoped that said enough.
~The Chamber of Secrets~
"How did you know that?" asked Hermione, as soon as the door to the Chamber of Secrets opened.
Ron shrugged. "I just remembered, I guess."
"From second year?"
"Yeah."
Hermione shook her head and the pair continued through the chambers winding corridors. "You're brilliant, you know."
"I learn from the best," he said.
As they made their way deeper into the Chamber, the smell of the rotting Basilisk corpse grew stronger. The stench almost made Ron gag, but he powered on.
"We've got to be close," said Hermione.
And they were — a few twists and turns through the tunnels later, they happened upon the snake. Its fangs jutted out of its decaying mouth, still dripping with basilisk venom.
Ron continued to breathe through this mouth, wishing he could turn off both his gag reflex and sense of smell as he approached the snake's corpse. He reached for a fang and pulled. "Think this will work?"
"Only one way to find out," said Hermione. She rustled in her bag for Hufflepuff's cup. "Let's try it."
"I think you should do it," said Ron, handing her the fang. "You haven't gotten to do one yet."
Hermione looked apprehensive, but took the fang and nodded. "Okay. I'll do it." She placed the cup on the floor and lifted the fang into the air.
"Hermione, just be warned, it might fight back," said Ron, remembering with a knot in his stomach the experience of destroying the locket.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Just smash it as quickly as you can."
Hermione recoiled her arm and smashed the fang down onto the cup, but rather than shattering, just a small piece of the handle broke off.
Then, a cloud of black smoke emerged from the cup and formed a figure that hovered over Hermione; the smoke morphed and twisted into what looked to be an uglier and more terrifying version of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Ha!" said the projection of Bellatrix, her high pitched voice sounding more maniacal than ever. "You thought you could escape me, didn't you?"
"Hermione, stab it!" said Ron.
"Do you think anyone cared that I tortured you? Did you think your little friend over there did anything to stop me?"
"Hermione, you know it's not true."
Bellatrix sneered. "He almost let you die under my knife. He had every opportunity to save you."
Ron watched as Hermione glared at the figure, the basilisk fang trembling under her white-knuckled grip.
"This war could have been over if you hadn't taken so long to recover. If I had managed to kill you, things would have gone faster."
"Hermione, you know we need you."
Bellatrix cackled at Ron, then drilled her gaze back into Hermione. "When he told you he loved you, did you believe him?"
"You know how I feel, Hermione—"
"Silly girl," said Bellatrix, cutting him off. "No one could ever love a mudblood like you," she said, roaring with laughter.
In a fit of rage, Hermione smashed the fang into the cup, and it shattered. Bellatrix's laugh began to die down, growing quieter until the room became silent, and her smokey hologram faded away.
Panting, Hermione took a step back from the scene. She paused in reflection, then looked at Ron.
"You know she was lying, right?" he said, hating that he even had to ask.
Hermione was silent, her expression unreadable. Then, for the first time since Malfoy Manor, real emotion flashed across her face. Her cheeks filled with color, her eyes welled with tears, and slowly, she crouched down to the floor, just before sobs overtook her body.
Ron didn't have to think twice before rushing to her side. He wrapped his arms around her and let her bury her face in his shirt while he stroked her hair and held her close. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder and continued to sob. Her body heaved with each gasp of air, and he knew there was nothing he could do to make it better. So he just sat with her until every ounce of bottled up emotion from the last few weeks escaped through her tears.
It was awful to see her like that — every cry and heavy breath felt like a dagger to Ron's heart — but he couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over him. Witnessing the cathartic release of all the pain she had kept to herself since her torture meant he was he was getting the real Hermione back. She was done hiding in the dark shadows of her mind that Bellatrix had created.
He tightened his arm around her, and she melted into his grasp. He pressed a kiss to her temple and let her hot tears soak the skin of his neck. She buried her face into his shirt to muffle her sobs, and he vowed to hold her close and let her cry for as long as she needed.
After what had felt like an hour, her sobs began to subside, each breath grew deeper and calmer than the last. At some point, she had run out of tears, and they had just sat there, in each others' arms, with nothing to say.
She tightened her grip around him and pressed her body to his. Her hug felt different somehow — it held the tenderness that had been lacking from every half-hearted embrace since he had returned to the horcrux hunt. It also held the intensity missing from every time he'd wrapped his arms around her at Shell Cottage with the utmost caution for fear of angering her injuries or furthering her pain in any way.
"You're amazing," he said, mostly because he couldn't think of anything more eloquent that could accurately reflect how he felt. "Really."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm scared. I've been so scared."
Her admission shattered his heart. Fear was never something he could see in her eyes. Hermione was always clear-headed and prepared, acting rationally in the face of danger as though nothing fazed her.
"You are allowed to be scared," he said. "This shit is terrifying."
It was like saying nothing at all, but seemed to have the effect he wanted. She placed both hands on either side of his face and pressed her lips to his. Maybe she just needed permission to admit she was afraid.
They stayed like that, on the cold floor of the Chamber of Secrets, their bodies pressed together, lips locked, until enough time had passed that they could no longer justify it. The moment it started to feel like they were stalling, they pulled away.
With a sigh and one last longing look, she got to her feet, a newfound motivation shining in her eyes. "I want this to be over."
Ron stood up and reached for her hand. The look on her face felt like a wave of warmth to him. It was the look of fierce determination that was so very Hermione. Finally. "Then let's finish it."
~The Room of Requirement~
After winding their way back through the entrance of the Chamber, Ron and Hermione sprinted to the Room of Requirement, basilisk fangs in hand. Based on Harry's expression when he saw them, he'd been waiting a bit too long.
"Where were you?" he said through gritted teeth. "We sort of have a war to fight here."
Ron decided against telling him exactly how much time he and Hermione had spent in an embrace on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. "Sorry mate, it took some time to find the dead snake."
"Fine," said Harry. "Great idea with the fangs, by the way."
Ron beamed at the compliment. "Thanks."
"Okay, let's make a plan," said Hermione, and Ron couldn't help but smile as he watched her start listing possibilities of where to find and how to destroy the remaining horcruxes.
As they weighed multiple plans of action to finish Voldemort off while minimizing the number of casualties in the castle, Ron's heart grew heavy as he pictured how many innocent people were on site. All the students who couldn't evacuate before a battle descended on their school, the professors who were just trying to do their job. Even Hagrid's creatures and the elves in the kitchen.
"Hold on — shouldn't we stop by the kitchens? To make sure the house elves can get out?"
Both Harry and Hermione paused to consider Ron's question, but Ron's eyes naturally locked onto her expression.
There was a tenderness in her eyes and her cheeks flushed with emotion. Then, she threw the basilisk fangs to the floor and ran at Ron, flung her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth to his. He responded with enthusiasm and lifted her off her feet.
It was the first time Ron had kissed Hermione in public, without a care in the world of who was watching, and he was hyper-aware of Harry standing there, his mouth agape. Ron knew it was an act — there was no way Harry didn't know. No one in the world could be that oblivious.
Hermione deepened the kiss and Ron followed suit. Kissing her now felt like falling into a pensieve, and he was hit head on with the memories that led to this moment. The good ones flooded his mind — dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding, holding hands at Grimmauld Place, kissing for the first time on the kitchen countertop, exploring her body beneath the sheets. Then the others— the influence of the locket, and its voice telling him he didn't deserve her. The cold nights spent alone at Shell Cottage as he laid awake regretting everything he'd said. The hurt on her face when he'd returned, and the feeling of knowing he'd caused it. Malfoy Manor. The long, slow road to recovery at Shell Cottage.
Telling her he loved her and not hearing it back.
"Is this really the moment?" Harry's quiet voice came from the other side of the room. It blended into the background noise for Ron.
When their lips parted, Hermione pulled him into a hug — lips landed close to his ear. "I love you Ron," she whispered. "I love you so much."
Ron might as well have melted into a puddle right then and there. His eyes swam with tears and his face grew hot. Hearing those words from her made all of those memories fade. All he could think about was the future. They had a future. He knew that for certain — the war would end, and they would be together. She loved him, and she was his.
"I love you too," he said. "But you already know that."
The sound of her laugh was like music to his ears.
"Oi, there's a war going on here!" Harry yelled, frustration dripping from his voice.
Hermione whipped her head around to look at Harry. "Well, it's now or never then, isn't it?" she said, before turning back to Ron.
Ron beamed and tightened his grasp around her waist and met her with another enthusiastic kiss. Harry could wait. The war could wait. Ron held her close and savored the feeling of her lips on his.
"So, do you forgive me?" he asked the next time he came up for air. "For leav—"
"Yes," said Hermione before she cut him off with another kiss, and once again, the reality of the war faded away, but his motivation to continue strengthened. He didn't just have everything he ever wanted; he had something worth fighting for.
