Bastille Day

When he was awoken by his mother calling up the stairs to "hurry up and get a move on before Fleur comes!" Ron found himself missing the days when his future sister-in-law was barely tolerated in the house. At least then he'd been able to have a bit of a lie in. Now Mum seemed determined to make up for her past frostiness by getting everyone involved in the wedding preparations and for some reason, choosing to celebrate a French holiday today. Mum'd mentioned it last night, but he hadn't been paying attention. He made a mental note to ask Hermione later in the day.

If she'd tell him anything.

Hermione had arrived late in the evening four days ago. Four hours late. Late. Hermione Granger, who had once had a Time Turner to have extra classes and still managed to make it to them on time was inexplicably tardy. Over the ensuing four days, Ron had avoided asking her the reason for the tardiness (and the ensuing rise in his blood pressure as he imagined all the terrible things that could be happening to prevent her from making it to the Burrow) having hoped that she would tell him when she was ready. So far, she wasn't ready.

In the moments when he was alone, this frustrated him. After everything with that stupid git Boot at the end of last year, and Hermione insisting that he was important to her on the train, Ron thought they were further along than this. Thought she'd know by now that she could bloody talk to him. But no. Not that she was really talking to anybody. Perfunctory conversation at supper. Time spent poring over books in the evening when she could have been playing Chess with him, or going for a walk with him, or…

Okay, so maybe part of his frustration had more to do with her not seeking him out, than wondering what was the matter with her.

To make matters worse, he had now vowed to do something he thought he'd never do. Take Fred and George's advice. Well, not their advice per se, but the evening he'd come home from Hogwarts he'd rummaged through his trunk and pulled out 12 Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches. It turned out to be the most useful book he'd ever read. A couple of chapters were about actual charms (how to make a bouquet of flowers appear, tying pretty ribbons, illuminating a room in candlelight and stuffy romantic shite like that) but the vast majority of it was practical advice. That he should be complimenting Hermione more, showing her more outward forms of affection. One chapter was all about listening, which Ron thought he'd had down. But evidently just watching her as she spoke did not lend itself well to being a potentially good partner.

And, as Fred threatened, there were diagrams. He was thankful he'd read the thing late at night so his face and ears had time to return to their normal colour before having to interact with anybody. Who knew female anatomy was so bloody complicated?!

Even days later, the mere thought of doing anything in those pages with Hermione was enough to bring heat to his face.

Nevertheless, Ron was determined. He was going to show Hermione that he was in fact worthy of being someone important to her. He'd had a whole speech planned for her arrival, sending the others out of the kitchen so that he could be the only one to greet her. Then she was late. And when she did come in, she was nearly sobbing. Ron had done his best to make her feel better, told her that he'd be around to keep her safe. All it had accomplished was her nearly burrowing herself into his arms, which felt incredible, but she wasn't speaking.

Other than that brief moment of joy when she'd found his stupid old necklace, Hermione wasn't smiling much either. He'd chalk it up to her being in preparation mode for their mission, but it wasn't like her. No bossiness, no spark in her eyes.

Ron missed that spark. As he got ready to head to breakfast, he decided that today would be the day. He'd get Hermione to talk to him no matter what it took.

…

This was easier said than done. When he got down to breakfast it was to discover that Mum had sent Hermione to the village to get the ingredients to make some fancy French pastry Ron had never heard of. He'd barely had time to eat a couple slices of bacon before she sent him out to muck out the vegetable garden. While digging in the dirt, he'd accidentally hit a gnome, which then meant he had to degnome the garden. Upon realizing he had more work to do, Ron let out a few choice words. Mum picked that moment to duck her head out and heard his tirade. After threatening to make him wash his mouth out with soap, she then made him promise to go and scrub both bathtubs after he finished. Cursing her and gnomes, these tasks took him to lunch.

When he arrived starving and sweaty to the kitchen, it was to see Hermione deep in thought, piling small balls of dough on top of each other with lazy flicks of her wand.

'What are you doing?' he asked. This startled her, and she jumped back. The dough she'd been levitating fell to the ground with a splatter. Thick cream burst out.

'I didn't hear you come in,' she exclaimed, hand over her heart. Ron pulled out his wand and helped to clean up the mess.

'Must have been focusing on this…pyramid then.' He gestured to the counter.

'Crocquenbouche.'

Ron stared at her, dough halfway to the rubbish. 'Is that a new spell?'

She gave a short laugh, pushing her hair behind her ears. He felt a swoop in his belly. There had been too few laughs from her over the last few days.

'It's a dessert,' she explained, opening the rubbish bin as Ron sent the little dough flying. 'Your Mum's making it for Fleur.'

'Right,' Ron said, although this provided him with no further explanation.

'For Bastille Day,' Hermione continued.

'What is Pasty Day?' Ron asked her, dusting powdered sugar off his hands and onto his trousers. Hermione laughed again, making him feel more accomplished than any of the work he'd done that morning.

'Bastille,' she pronounced. 'It's a French Holiday to celebrate the fall of the French monarchy. Well, the ancien regime.'

Ron stared at her. Hermione gave a small smile back.

'Think Guy Fawkes day, but French.'

'What day?'

'Do wizards not celebrate Guy Fawkes day?' Hermione asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. 'How fascinating.'

'You've completely lost me,' Ron admitted. He moved around her to get a glass of water, taking a moment to inhale the scent of sugar that surrounded her.

'I think your Mum is trying her best to make Fleur feel at home.'

'Yeah, I got that much,' Ron told her, filling his glass in the sink and taking a big swig. 'but why does it involve this sort of dessert?'

'That's my fault,' Hermione admitted. 'She must have overheard me talking to Fleur about eating it when I was in Dijon with my…' she trailed off, the veil of sadness dropping once more over her face.

'Parents?' Ron supplied.

Hermione didn't answer. Ron didn't have time to press the matter. Mum came bustling into the kitchen, complimenting the pyramid and busying herself making sandwiches.

He thought about her sadness throughout lunch. Had something happened with her parents? She hadn't mentioned them since her arrival. Not that she'd mentioned them much in the years he'd known her. Still, it definitely felt like it might have something to do with them.

Ron wanted to stay and offer to help finish piling the dough balls onto the pyramid, but Mum wasn't having it. She insisted he needed to go out and check the pond for algae blooms. Ron had no idea what an algae bloom even looked like, but Mum had moved off so quickly that he didn't have a chance to ask.

As he faced the shining sunlit water, his lack of awareness as to what algae was came to the surface. To him, the pond looked no different than normal. There were the reeds sticking out from the far end, near the little dock they'd put in to jump off of. A frog dozed in the sunlight on a lilypad out in the middle. Seemed good to him.

Really, if anybody was going to know what an algae bloom was, it was going to be Hermione. He figured if he could get her to the side of the pond, then maybe he could get her to explain what was wrong. Buoyed by this thought, he went off in search of her.

He didn't go far. Hermione was seated underneath the big oak tree with a book in her hands. The tome was open, but she wasn't flicking the pages-instead her gaze was focused somewhere in the distance. Ron turned to look at what she was staring at, but nothing jumped out at him. He walked to her side, plonking himself down against the same exposed root she was sat against. She didn't seem to notice him.

'Hermione?' he asked tentatively. She seemed to startle slightly, and reached up a hand to brush away tears that had accumulated beneath her eyes.

'Gosh, that's the second time today you've caught me unawares,' she said, forcing a laugh. It sounded nothing like what he'd managed to produce in the kitchen earlier. 'I really have be better at being aware of my surroundings.' He could hear the fake joviality in her tone. He was going to have none of it.

'What's going on?'

Hermione took a deep breath. 'Doing some reading about the founders. It occurred to me that if we knew more about what objects might have been important to them, we could potentially discover what Ravenclaw's artifact might be.'

'You reading through absorption then?' Ron asked, folding his arms. Hermione frowned and turned to face him.

'What do you mean?'

'The entire time I walked up to you, not a single page of that book was turned. You were staring at something. Out there.'

'I was pondering possibilities,' Hermione retorted, snapping the book shut. He realized he was going to have to switch tactics.

'And Ravenclaw's possible artifacts make you weepy?' Ron pushed back.

Hermione pursed her lips. He could tell that she knew he had her there. It didn't give him much satisfaction.

'Can you please tell me what's wrong?' he asked, settling down an inch closer to her. 'And don't say nothing, because I know you better than that.'

Hermione's shoulders sagged a little. 'I know you do.'

'Brilliant. So can we skip that part and instead you let me know what's got you so upset?'

The wind picked up, whistling a tune through the branches. It caught a few strands of her hair, blowing it in front of her face. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were focused on him, dark and impenetrable. Even though he prided himself on knowing so many of her facial expressions, this one was mysterious.

Another beat passed, and she still hadn't said anything. Ron reached out a tentative hand and brushed the offending curls away from her cheek. She flushed as he trailed her tear-soaked skin with his fingers. He watched her swallow hard. She shut her eyes as he wiped a remaining tear away.

'I don't want you to hate me.' Quiet, almost a whisper.

A surprised laugh escaped him. She blinked her eyes open, searching him. 'Hate you? Have you gone mental? There's probably nothing in this world you could do to make me hate you.'

She dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes.

'Hey,' he continued, daring to tuck his thumb under her jaw and bringing her back to face him. 'I think I know what this is about.'

That did it. She brought her eyes back up to his, and he could now see the flash of panic inside the depths. Her lips parted, and he pressed on, praying to Merlin that this would work.

'I mean, I get it. After a few days back in the muggle world, you've finally come to your senses and realized that Bill isn't the most attractive Weasley.'

The panic vanished, confusion and laughter now brimming in her eyes.

'What?' she asked, half-chortling on the sound.

'I know,' Ron continued. 'I don't know how Fleur can resist me either but…' he sighed for dramatic effect. 'We all have sacrifices to make.'

And just like that, the pain was back. She was shaking her head now, dropping her gaze once more. He noticed she wasn't trying to remove his hand though, which he took as a positive sign.

'Hermione,' he begged. 'Please, talk to me. Otherwise I'll keep making stupid jokes.'

'That was a stupid joke,' she agreed, still not looking at him. 'Especially since…' she trailed off.

'Since what?'

'Never mind.'

Ron bit back the urge to swear. Sometimes it was like talking to a beater's bat with how little he got back from her.

'Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise I won't hate you.'

Hermione sighed. 'You say that now Ron, but when I tell you what I've done-'

'Did you hurt Harry?'

This snapped her eyes right back to his.

'What? No, of course not.' Offense dripped from every word.

'Have you given away any secrets to Death Eaters?'

'No, I-'

'Am I still important to you?' he dared to ask.

'The most,' she blushed.

'Then I can't hate you.'

She didn't answer for a moment. But she did look at him, eyes searching. He felt like she was examining him like a rune, digging in to find out if he truly meant what he was saying. Which he of course did wholeheartedly. The idea of hating Hermione was so at odds with how much he fancied her that it was ridiculous.

'I modified my parents' memories.'

It came so suddenly it seemed to have surprised her too. She half raised a hand to her lips, as though wondering if she'd really spoken the words aloud. Ron took a minute to process what she'd said.

'You did what?'

'I modified my parents' memories,' she repeated, tears trickling out of the corners of her eyes. 'That's why I was late. I wanted to make sure it…worked.'

Thoughts began to swirl in his mind.

'You…you know how to do that?'

She nodded miserably. 'Taught myself from a book in the library.'

'Merlin,' he muttered, impressed. 'That's high-level magic.'

'And terrible magic!' Hermione countered, more tears leaking. 'I'm just like Lockhart.'

It took him a moment to make that leap in thought with her.

'-because you modified someone's memory?' she nodded again. Ron resisted the urge to laugh, figuring she wouldn't take too kindly to it at the moment.

'Hermione, you're nothing like Lockhart.'

This made her wrench her chin away from his thumb.

'Yes I am! I did it without their knowledge, without their consent, without-' Her cheeks were beginning to flush.

'And why did you do it?' Ron cut in, staring at her as if daring her to keep going. 'To steal their ideas? To take credit for something that you had nothing to do with?'

'Of course not,' Hermione scoffed.

'Are you planning on writing a bestselling series about Bentists?'

'Dentists,' she corrected. Ron waved a hand.

'Are you?'

'No.'

'Did you do it because you wanted to protect them?'

She nodded.

'Then you aren't Lockhart.'

Something in her seemed to relax. Not entirely, but enough for Ron to feel some relief. They sat in silence for a moment, punctuated only by a pathetic sniffle. Ron realized as she did that he had to know more. That the only way to help her was to understand.

'What did you modify?'

Hermione looked at him once more, wiping her eyes.

'I gave them new names and made it their life's goal to move to Australia.'

'Australia?' Ron repeated.

'I thought the other side of the world would be safe.' She looked concerned now, as though Australia might not be far enough away.

Ron nodded, impressed by this logic. He certainly felt Australia was a long ways away. 'But won't they be worried about you, Australia or not?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No. I…I made them forget about me.'

Ron felt his eyebrows lift nearly into his hairline.

'What?'

'If they don't know me, then if any Death Eater manages to track them down, they won't be able to tell them anything. They won't have heard about any Hermione Granger because they've never met anybody by that name.'

The tears were streaming down her face now, and she sniffed miserably.

'Merlin,' Ron managed.

'I didn't know what else to do,' she continued. 'There's bound to be records of my address from Hogwarts and when we leave with Harry, it's only a matter of time before they come looking for me and…' A sob interrupted her train of thought.

'Hey,' Ron started, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'That's brilliant.'

She shook her head through her sobs.

'No really,' he continued. 'You've kept them safe. That's all any of us can ask for at this point.'

Hermione kept crying. Ron felt a strange mixture of pride and sadness. He didn't want Hermione to feel guilty for what she had done. Merlin knew he'd never be a good enough wizard to make his parents forget about him, even if it was an excellent way to protect them. Didn't know if he was emotionally stable enough to do that. The idea of Mum and Dad out in the world, not knowing that he existed? It was…an awful thing to think about.

'You're amazing, you know that?' he whispered. She seemed to hear him. She offered no resistance when he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her shaking form.

'The most brilliant witch,' he continued, placing his head atop hers. It helped to cage her in, prevent her from shaking her head in disagreement.

So instead, she just cried. Long gone were the days when Ron was terrified of her tears. It wasn't that he now welcomed them exactly, but he'd take crying over silence any day. Sobbing meant that she trusted him. Crying meant that she cared, that he could show her he cared. He could be there for her in her pain, as long as she let him in.

And as she exhausted herself that afternoon, Ron realized that he needed to take a leaf out of her book. It was time to figure out how to protect his own family.