Harry found himself the recipient of an entirely undesired taste of what Hermione must have gone through after he was attacked by Nagini back on Christmas.

He'd gotten them back to the truck, and into the not-a-tent in the back of it after enduring no small amount of resistance from Hermione.

After the blast, and exhausted to the point of near delirium, she stumbled and leaned on Harry heavily. She rambled barely coherently about how she'd had things under control, and he should not have stepped in when he did.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he screwed things up.

If that was the case, he'd apologize, but he was confident in his assessment of things and his actions. He'd rather have her upset with him than have something horrible happen to her. It wasn't even a question.

She'd run out of words and energy about half way back to the truck, and he'd carried her the rest of the way.

The housing inside the truck was larger than he'd imagined. It was on par with some of the nicest tents he'd caught a glimpse of at the World Cup. He didn't have the time or interest to explore it though, he just needed to find a bed and get Hermione comfortable so she could sleep off what looked like a major case of magical exhaustion.

Thankfully, the lights in the dwelling were automatic. When he entered carrying Hermione in his arms, the entry way had lit up, as well as the first few rooms he could see from the doorway.

There was a small foyer area immediately adjacent to a large kitchen that was open to a cozy looking sitting area. There were windows somehow, too. He'd have to look at those more closely once Hermione was squared away and resting.

Walking further into the house, he set Hermione gently down on a couch in the sitting area, figuring it would be easiest to figure out where he was going without carrying her around. It didn't take more than a minute or two for him to find what must be the main bedroom, and he went to retrieve her, finding that she hadn't moved a muscle since he left.

Her clothes had been singed by the blast, and he carefully slipped her out of them, so she was wearing only the swimsuit she'd been in earlier, and tucked her into bed.

It was only then that he first had the opportunity to take a deep breath and try to uncoil some of the tension he'd been carrying ever since she started the ritual. He was tired, but too worried and wound up to sleep, so he took a chair from the small writing desk in the bedroom and set it next to Hermione's side of the bed.

She was breathing slowly and looked to be comfortable. That was a small weight off of his shoulders. He'd feel much better when she woke up, but that might not be for a long while.

She'd relayed to him as they were driven to the restaurant for their date the conversation she'd had with Milly while he was recovering after his procedure. She'd explained how if her magic had been fully depleted, it would have been the end of her.

She also explained the dangers of the process she'd be undertaking. How doing something wrong, or overexerting herself could significantly hurt her or worse.

He knew her well, and he knew that she was more hurt than she was letting on about her magic. It was classic Hermione, trying to remain optimistic and be a light in the world regardless of what she was feeling.

Even after all they'd been through, she was still trying to protect him, to shield him as best she could from her pain, in an effort to not burden him further than his own lot already had.

It would be work, but he needed to convince her he could handle it. After all, she was the one that had come to him about secrets and his track record of hiding how he was really feeling. She wasn't wrong, and he knew when he was doing it, she wouldn't appreciate it, but he'd elected to carry the burden on his own, anyway. She was only doing the same thing, and he couldn't really blame her for it.

It warranted a conversation, though.

He watched her rest for a while, still breathing slowly and steadily, with her hair a wild nest around her face. It seemed she'd be out for some time, and he'd do well to learn the layout of this new mobile flat of theirs.

He stood and gently kissed her forehead before quietly stepping out of the room, leaving the door open only a crack, and wandered out to the kitchen. He set a kettle to boil and walked around the flat. There were three dedicated bedrooms, the seating area next to the kitchen, and a small office with a desk and some bookshelves. Each bedroom had an en suite bathroom, and there was another one off the kitchen.

He could easily picture the two of them, perhaps even with some friends, traveling and enjoying some time together in this portable flat of his.

Checking the pantry, he found a small variety of tea already stocked among all the other essentials. Grabbing some chamomile and a bottle of honey, he went to settle in and try to slow his mind down and ease his nerves enough to lie down.

—X—X—X—

Confident Hermione was resting soundly, Harry made a run back out to the clifftop to ensure he'd not left anything behind. It was a good thing, because he had indeed forgotten everything other than Hermione herself in the wake of the blast. When he returned to the flat in the truck, it came to his attention that the first mug of chamomile hadn't quite had the soothing effect he'd been hoping for.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up to him as well, and he decided he may as well get himself ready to turn in for the night. He was sore. On a typical day at his baseline, he wouldn't have had any issue carrying Hermione the short distance from the clifftop to the truck, but after almost a year of malnourishment, and with a still-healing hole in his abdomen, it was only a bit of adrenaline that let him get her back on his own. The rush of adrenaline was fading, and combined with the fact that he was nearly due for another potion, he was feeling his injury.

He'd brought his rucksack inside with him and opened it to get at his toiletries and some sleepwear, then made his way to the bathroom.

He was surprised to learn he'd picked up a bit of color in the sun, and less surprised to learn that his clothes were a bit of a mess after spending a good portion of the afternoon lying on the ground. Taking his reflection in, he noticed something that sent a chill down his spine.

There was a circle on his left side that looked to be damp.

Carefully lifting his sweatshirt, he saw the skin-like bandage still in place where it had been for the last week, but around it, there was a purple ring slowly seeping red.

"Fuck." He sighed.

Perhaps the wave of ambient magic was enough to feed his curse for a few moments. It fed on magic, after all. Grounding his own magic out was effective, but perhaps the blast of power from earlier had been enough to cause something of a resurgence.

He checked his watch. 3:34 am. His next dose should be in the cabinet in the truck around four.

After he finished changing, brushed his teeth, and bandaged himself up as best he could with the first aid supplies he kept in his backpack. Next, he grabbed his notebook and decided to write Erica a quick update to keep himself awake until he got his next dose arrived.

—

Erica,

Well, our first stop is done. Hermione's part is, anyway. It started out well but didn't end that way. The potion let her engage the circle we found. It went well at first, but after some time, it looked to me like it was overwhelming her. When she dropped to a knee, it scared me - we were playing with large amounts of power and I didn't want her to be hurt.

I broke the circle. It sort of blew up. We're fine, I think. I got knocked down and blown back a little, and Hermione was practically knocked out and exhausted. I got her to a bed, and she's resting now. I'm doing alright, but noticed my wound worsening slightly. I'm not sure it's anything to be overly worried about, though. If the curse fed on my magic, I don't think it's much of a leap to think it might have gotten some power from what she was channeling from the environment when I broke the circle early.

I'm writing early this morning because I want to take my 4am dose before I sleep. This thing is making me nervous.

On a different note, I think she might be cross with me. She was barely conscious, but already kind of yelled at me that I shouldn't have done what I did when I did it. I'm not sure what to make of it honestly. Maybe I was premature. Maybe I did more harm than good, but I'd rather that than see her hurt herself seriously. I know she desperately wants to get her magic back, and I certainly understand it, but I don't need her accidentally killing herself in that pursuit. Any insight you can provide into what this "should" look like would be appreciated.

I told her today about my issues in the dark. She hadn't noticed I'd kept leaving the lights on low at night. I'm still working through that, but feel like it's getting better. We sat together under the stars tonight and I didn't have any issues. Maybe that means I'm making progress. Maybe it's just because I was with her. Hard to say really.

Anyways, thanks for listening, or reading as it were. I'll check for a response when I wake up. Please include your input as to when I should start worrying if she's still sleeping. I don't want to be alarmist, but I'm worried about her.

Many thanks,

-Harry

—

When he finished the note, he closed the book and walked out of the flat. Stars lit the sky, and he opened a door to the back seat to access his vanishing cabinet. The rhythmic sound of the surf in the dark was soothing, and it wasn't long before he heard a gentle clicking sound from the cabinet.

Right on time.

He grabbed the bottle and went back to the flat. Pulling his shirt up, and his bandage down, he saw the angry purple and red circle again. It was much smaller than it had been last week, but it was a little bigger than it was that morning. Perhaps as big around as a golf ball.

Grabbing the stopper in his teeth, he opened the bottle and downed the potion. The slightly sweet, slightly herbal flavor was growing on him somehow, but that was far from his mind as he looked down at his injury.

Just as he'd hoped, the effect was fast and significant. The darkness faded significantly, but not entirely. Apparently, the bandage was meant to shrink and not expand, because there was still a faint ring of irritated red skin around its circumference.

Satisfied he'd done everything he could for the time being, he made his way quietly to the bedroom, and checked on Hermione once more. Her breathing was still slow and deep, and she looked reasonably comfortable.

He reached down and pulled the covers up snug over her shoulders and kissed her forehead, to which she sighed softly but didn't move, and he tucked himself into bed.

—X—X—X—

Harry woke with a start later that morning. The room was mostly dark, but there was light peeking through the crack under the door.

Carefully, he felt for Hermione next to him, and immediately found her. She'd moved slightly, rolling toward him, which he took as a good sign.

There was nothing apparent that would have woken him, so he decided to have a quick look around. Perhaps it was just being in a new environment causing him to be restless.

Getting out of bed quietly, he went to check his dressing, and found it in need of changing before he went back to sleep. It was only 8am and he'd been up until after four. More sleep was definitely in order.

Before he turned back in, he checked his notebook for a reply from Erica, and found one.

—

Harry,

It certainly sounds as though you've had an eventful evening. I'm glad you're both safe.

From your description, it sounds like she may have been pushing too hard. She's lucky to have you with her. Breaking the circle was a little dangerous for both of you but if she was overstretching it was probably the best thing to do at the time.

The news of your wound opening up is concerning, but I suspect your logic is sound. I'll speak with Healer Tolliver and send word if there's anything in particular to worry about. Let me know if it continues to worsen - that's important. It should continue to heal as you keep taking your potion.

About Hermione, I'm sure her gut reaction was just that. Once she comes around, I'm nearly certain she'll understand and not be upset with you.

To answer your question, when the process is done, ideally the circle will just fade out and dispel on its own.

I'm glad to hear you were able to open up about things, that will be good for the both of you. It's plain to see you care deeply for each other, and as I've told you before, finding normal after everything you've been through won't happen overnight. You're doing just fine, Harry.

Thanks for the update, and I'd say that if Hermione hasn't stirred in 12 hours, it might be cause for some concern. If you wouldn't mind sending me a quick update when she comes around, I'd appreciate it.

Stay safe and have a good day.

-Erica

—

Twelve hours. It had only been a little over four at that point, so Harry was able to breathe easier having read Erica's message. Not only the part about Hermione being alright, but also about what Hermione had said as he was walking her back to the truck.

Having read her assurances, Harry could rest easier than he had earlier, and he left his notebook on the counter in the kitchen and went back to bed.

Sometime later, he awoke to find more light in the room than there had been before. The first thing he noticed, was his side still throbbing and aching more than it had for the last few days.

As he stretched his arm to the other side of the bed, the second thing he noticed was that he was alone.

Hermione was gone.

Any semblance of grogginess left him in an instant, and he sat bolt upright in the bed, eyes darting with blurry vision around the room.

A soft, pained noise escaped him as he slid his legs off of the bed, and he made his way to the bedroom door after grabbing his glasses of the bedside table. It was then that his lungs filled with air once again, when he saw Hermione standing at the stove on the kitchen island, leaning over a hot pan with a steaming cup of tea next to her. He also noticed a few bowls out on the counter.

His involuntary sigh of relief got her attention, and she turned toward him, smiling.

"Good morning, sleepy head." She said warmly.

"You're… Alright?" Harry asked quietly, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

"I am." She replied, she turned a burner down and took a few steps toward him, looking concerned.

She didn't understand why he was so tense.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Harry closed the distance between them at a run, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Oh, I am now." He answered, relieved. He kissed the side of her head through her bushy mane and leaned back, lifting her feet off the ground for an instant.

"Well good, then! I'm making us breakfast." She said as they separated. "What's wrong, sweetie? You look tense."

"It's just… What do you remember from last night?"

"Well, I remember everything up to when I got in the circle pretty clearly." She was calm and thoughtful, easing Harry's initial fear she'd be upset with him in the morning. "Things get a little foggy after that."

"That might be for the best." Harry said seriously.

"What happened?" She was suddenly looking worried. The realization that she didn't recall part of the night startled her.

"Well, you started doing whatever it was you were doing in the circle, and it seemed to me to be going well at first." He looked off to her side, avoiding eye contact, and she shifted to maintain it.

He sighed and continued "After a while, you sort of stopped and hunched over. Hands on your knees, head down and all that."

"I sort of remember that. It's not clear though." She was looking more concerned.

"I almost broke the circle immediately, but didn't because I know how important it is to you, and you didn't look overly distressed, just tired out." He trailed off, and she prompted him to continue with a look.

"All I could see through the light of the circle was your silhouette, and you dropped to a knee, looking like you were about to pass out. I'll admit that terrified me… I didn't know what would happen if you did, and I could tell there was a ton of energy around, so I broke the circle."

Her eyes went wide.

"Gods, Harry. I'm sorry" She asked, regret taking hold in her features. "I assume that's when I passed out or something? That must have given you a bit of a scare."

"A scare and then some, Hermione." Harry said seriously, but with a lopsided smile.

"How do you mean?"

"The circle kind of erupted." He said lightly, trying to not make it sound as horrifying as it was.

"Erupted‽" She asked, incredulous. "That means I must have…" she didn't finish her thought.

"Must have what? Been pushing too hard?" Harry offered.

She nodded, and moved in to hug him again. "How bad was it?"

"Not great, but I suppose it could have been worse." He answered. "When I got to you, you were-"

"Hold on. 'Got to me?' What does that mean?"

"Well, I was blasted back a little bi-" He wheezed as she held him entirely too tight at that. "Easy, I'm alright. You're alright. We're fine, okay?"

He shifted her arm to get it off of his aching side.

"Sorry." She mumbled into his chest.

"It's alright. I'll be fine and you were out less than 12 hours. Erica said I shouldn't worry until then."

"You talked to Erica?"

"Well, wrote in my notebook before I went to sleep. I was up a few hours ago again and she had replied."

"I see. When did you finally get to bed? You don't normally sleep this late."

"A little after four. I wanted to get my potion before I rested." He explained. "And before you ask, I'm alright, it's just that the little surge of raw magic hitting me seems to have aggravated my injury. Erica said so long as things keep improving it shouldn't be anything to worry about."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean for that to happen, or for you to get hurt again." She buried her head in his chest.

"It's okay, really. I'm just glad you aren't upset with me." He countered. "When I was getting you back here after everything you were mostly dazed and incoherent, but seemed insistent that I shouldn't have stopped the process and that you had it all under control."

"I'm… Sorry." She said again. "Doesn't really sound like that's the case, does it?"

"No, but stop apologizing. We learned something, right? A few things really." He rubbed her back and she hummed against him. "You need to pace yourself, and there's nothing wrong with that. And also, this blasted curse can feed off of large quantities of ambient magic."

"I'll try to stop, but make no promises." She smiled and finally separated from him, walking back over to the stove. "I just want to get through this and get things back to normal, you know?"

"I do." Harry answered. And he did. He understood quite well how integral magic was to her, it felt the same way for him too.

"What are you cooking over there, anyway?" He asked.

Hermione was spooning something out of a large bowl onto a pan on the stove.

"Pancakes."

"Brilliant." He replied enthusiastically. "Those look a bit thicker than the ones I've had before."

"They're American style." She replied, looking thoughtful. "My parents took us on a trip to New York when I was little… One morning at breakfast, my dad got a plate of them and sort of fell in love with them. He's made them for us almost every Saturday morning since."

"And you learned to make them too?"

"I always liked to help him. It became a sort of family tradition on the weekends." answered, looking nostalgic and wielding her spatula with a practiced hand.

After a moment, a smile lit up her face as a new thought crossed her mind. "I remember I was so excited the first time he let me try to flip one."

Harry smiled warmly. "How'd that go?"

"Not bad, actually. It didn't stay nice and round, but it cooked evenly."

"Well, these look perfect." Harry said, looking at the small stack she had on a plate next to the stove.

She didn't have much batter left, and Harry took the opportunity to set up plates and utensils on the kitchen island for them.

She was tending the last few pancakes when Harry turned the kettle on to get a fresh pot of tea going, and he started cleaning up at the same time.

They enjoyed their breakfast, and while they ate, Hermione shared a few more details and memories of her family. As she was settling in, coming down from the tension of the last few weeks, she was becoming noticeably more comfortable talking about them.

Not only that, but she was bringing them up more often, and was less tearful and more optimistic when she did.

—X—X—X—

They enjoyed their breakfast and a quiet morning together.

Harry remembered to write Erica that Hermione was doing well, and found confirmation from Erica that as long as his wound continued to improve, he didn't need to worry.

Hermione's spirits were noticeably higher than they'd been previously, and when she came out of the bedroom having showered and changed to meet Harry in the kitchen, he could guess why.

"Do I notice a little extra spring in your step today?" Harry asked from his seat at the kitchen island.

"Maybe a little." She replied, beaming. "It worked."

"It worked? What worked?"

"Last night. The circle."

Harry lit up at that. "It worked‽ How well? What happened?"

"Well, it's not much… Hardly anything really." She hedged, "But after my shower I was able to use that charm to dry my hair."

"That's brilliant!" Harry said, louder than he'd intended. He got up and hugged her excitedly, inhaling the smell of her shampoo. "I'm so glad you're already seeing results!"

"Me too." She admitted. "It still took entirely too much effort, and it's not exactly advanced spell work, but I was able to do it."

Harry sniffled, and she took a step back.

"What's wrong sweetie?"

Harry removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "Not a thing. Really. It's just a relief, you know?"

"I'm relieved too." She tugged at the hem of her shirt, a habit she didn't seem to notice. "It feels like something real. Actual progress. Are you sure there's nothing else?"

She was happy, but the way he was reacting to her small victory felt... off. Bigger than she expected.

"It's just…" He paused, inhaling deeply as if bracing himself. "When I learned what happened to you, I was so damned scared. You know, I grew up not knowing about magic too. I understand what it means to you—how it's a part of you. The thought that my actions, incidental though they may have been, could have cost you that…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "It was absolutely killing me."

"Harry, it's not your fault," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You know that, right?"

"It doesn't matter if it's my fault." His shoulders sagged under the weight of the admission. "I'd blame myself anyway."

That wasn't news to her. It wasn't news to anyone who knew Harry. But hearing him say it out loud—that felt like progress.

"Before you got sorted," he continued, his voice quieter now, "the healers told me they couldn't be sure you'd ever be able to cast again. At all." His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room, unfocused. "That day, Hermione... I felt so helpless."

She swallowed hard. "Well, Milly, Morris, and Erica are great, aren't they?" She smiled, hoping to nudge him toward lighter thoughts.

"They certainly are," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a half-hearted smile. "But still... I'm relieved this whole thing seems to be working. At least we don't have to move to plan B."

Her brow furrowed. "Plan B? What's 'plan B,' and why am I only hearing about it now?"

Harry took her hand, his gaze steady. "Now that we're through the worst of it, I need you to know where my priorities lie. I've thought a lot about this, and... you mean more to me than anything else. Really. And I'm not just saying that."

"I know you're not, love." She squeezed his hand, warmth in her voice.

"I don't have anything tying me to the magical world—or the Muggle one, for that matter. No family. No obligations. Just you."

Her voice softened. "What are you getting at, sweetie?"

"If this didn't work out for you…" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't going to go through with the second surgery."

Her breath caught. When she finally spoke, her words were barely a whisper. "Harry, you know I'd never want that for you."

"Probably not." His tone was gentle, and he cupped her face in his hand. "And I wouldn't want that for you, either. But think about it. If it took every penny—or every knut—I'd make sure we find your parents. That stands, no matter what. I promise."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb.

"But honestly, if the worst happened, and you were without your magic forever…" His voice cracked slightly. "I'd rather live with you in the Muggle world than face any other alternative. That's all there is to it."

Her lips parted, but no words came. Finally, she whispered, "I... I don't know what to say to that."

"You don't need to say anything." His hand lingered on her cheek as he pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

Then, his tone shifted, lighter now. "Now," he said with a grin, "what's the plan today? Where are we heading next?"

—X—X—X—

More greenery flew past Harry's window as they made progress further west. There was one more point on Milly's map that they were very close to, so they made a quick stop.

A brief hike on a loose gravel path led them to the top of a striking limestone arch, partially protecting a large cove from the sea.

Approaching the arch, Harry could practically feel the vibration of wild energy in the air. He kept his distance while Hermione did what she needed to.

Without a circle, the effect would be a fraction of what they'd experienced the night before, so he wasn't worried about any problems at this stop. Plus, they'd talked and agreed that this entire process was more of a marathon than a sprint, and that while Hermione's fire and drive were admirable, it was dangerous for her to push too hard. She'd promised to take it easy.

The temperatures that day were much more seasonal. The air was cool and felt damp, like a rainstorm might roll in at any moment.

Harry had brought his notebook and during the hour Hermione was busy, took the opportunity for a little back and forth with Erica. She had a way of asking questions that prompted him to think about his experiences in ways he'd never previously considered.

By the time Hermione was done, Harry was sitting cross-legged just off the trail, looking over the cliff side at the water below.

The rugged southern coast of England really was a sight to behold. Choppy surf buffeting jagged shoreline and boulders. The sky was overcast and gray, and the wind atop the cliff was erratic, constantly shifting directions and intensity.

Harry was bundled in a thick sweatshirt and a stylish coat Hermione had picked out for him. Dark leather with crimson stripes down the arms, and chunky steel zippers on the pockets and the main closure.

"You're looking pretty Zen over there." Hermione called out, speaking over the sound of the crashing waves below.

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"'Zen' eh?" Harry turned his head to watch her approach. "I might just be for once."

Hermione plopped down heavily on the ground next to him, stretching her legs out in front of her and resting her head on his shoulder.

"You feeling alright?" He asked. "Did that take much out of you?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. A little winded, but I don't think it'll be long before I'm just fine."

"Perfect." He said, kissing the top of her head. "Pretty little spot, isn't it?"

Hermione was staring absently over the water below them just like he'd been for the last hour.

"It is." She said contentedly.

"So, where to next?" Harry asked.

He was leaning his head on hers, still looking out over the waves.

"I had a thought about that. How do you feel about taking it easy after the night we had last night?"

"I sure won't fight you on that one." Harry chuckled, thinking of his broken sleep and how stressed out he was the previous night. "What do you have in mind?"

"Do you want me to tell you, or do you want it to be a surprise?"

"Ooooh, a surprise, eh? What sort of surprise do you have in mind?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"One that might feel like we're getting back to normal." She answered as she nestled more comfortably into his shoulder.

Harry sighed, relaxed. "That sounds pretty great, actually. Sure. Surprise me."

"I will then."

—X—X—X—

Later, back on the road, Harry had finally torn into the fruit pastilles Hermione picked up at the petrol station the day before.

He had picked out and reserved the red and green ones for Hermione, which she thought was adorable, but she insisted he try them all.

Their drive eventually pulled them away from the coastline, and the landscape gave way to lush green fields.

"Is it far?" Harry asked after an hour more on the road.

"No, we're almost there." Hermione answered.

She turned off of the A road at a nondescript intersection lined with trees, and proceeded a few more miles to the south before stopping.

Harry looked around, not seeing anything in particular that would be cause for them to stop. Just as he was about to ask her what was going on, she spoke.

"Alright. We're getting close." She said, as she pulled a lever on the lower part of the dashboard next to the steering column. She then turned them onto a barely visible trail.

The truck shuddered, and she turned the wheel, guiding them off the road. The terrain wasn't entirely rugged, but the ride was bumpy without a paved road beneath them. She continued in what felt like a random direction, until Harry noticed her course correcting based on the map in the dashboard.

The surrounding area looked remotely familiar, and just as he was about to ask where they were going, he saw it.

Harry sat up eagerly. "The Burrow‽"

Hermione shot him a smile.

"Are you sure it's not going to be... awkward?"

"You mean with Ron?"

"Yeah. You told me you got into it a bit while I was in surgery last Monday."

"I can be civil, Harry. Yes, I'm still angry, but I think it will do us both some good to be with friends. And the Weasleys are practically family."

"I agree, but can you pull over for a minute?"

She did. "What's up, Harry?"

"Before we show up there, I want to talk about Ron, just briefly." He said.

She sighed. "I said I would be civil, Harry. I'm not looking for a fight."

"Look, I know you're angry with him, and I understand it. Hell, I am too. I know he left the both of us in those woods in December."

"It sounds like we're on the same page then." She said dryly.

"Almost." He hedged. "I also know you're perhaps extra mad at him because of my state of mind last winter."

Her face darkened. "You really don't need to remind me, Harry."

"I know, I know. But please, just hear me out." He pleaded with both his words and his eyes, and saw the corners of her mouth turn up.

"Alright, put the puppy-dog eyes away." She smiled after a moment, and he reached over to put his hand on the back of her neck, rubbing it gently.

"Just before Milly's infusion fixed your mind in the hospital, Ron and I talked."

"I know. Ron mentioned seeing you when we had our little conversation."

"You also told me you didn't really let him say much. I don't blame you for that at all. I can imagine you were incredibly stressed out at that moment."

"There were a few things on my mind that day, yes." She admitted glibly.

"All I ask, is that you give him a chance to say his peace, Hermione."

She looked away from him, out her window. "I'm really not interested in listening to his excuses. I'm just not." She exhaled shakily.

"I know, but I can tell you, after I talked to him, he was beating himself up pretty horribly. Maybe I'm just a softie, but even as mad at him as I had been when he left us, and then he came back and didn't hardly have a word to say about it, I didn't enjoy seeing him ripping himself up like he was."

"He should be." Her eyes hardened to flint.

"Maybe." Harry answered softly. "But look. I'm still not interested in ending my friendship with him. He was the first family I ever had, Hermione."

She studied his face for a moment. He was sincere and calm, but also hopeful. He didn't need to tell her that he wanted them all to get along again at some point, she could see it on his face. She wasn't about to move forward with Ron as though nothing ever happened though, but Harry's argument had been successful. She could at least afford Ron the opportunity to say whatever he needed to. From there though - well, it would just depend on what he had to say for himself.

She smiled softly at Harry sitting in the passenger seat. Those piercing green eyes of his really weren't fair sometimes… "Okay, Harry. I'll let him say his piece… And I'll keep an open mind."

Harry beamed, letting out a gentle laugh. "Thanks, love. I appreciate it."

She nodded, and put the truck in gear.

As they approached The Burrow, the patchwork tower the Weasleys called home looked different from the last time they'd seen it. It looked like during the attack during the wedding last summer another fire had been set, but the home had been returned to its normal state with a few modest updates.

It still had its signature, nearly charming, cobbled-together look, but it looked less run down than it had previously. The garden looked like it had recently been fertilized, and the soil was rich and dark.

When they got within a hundred meters or so of the property, a ward of some kind must have triggered, notifying the home of their arrival.

The kitchen door flew open and a wary-looking Molly Weasley emerged, scanning the surrounding area for an instant before she saw them. It wasn't long before they were close enough that she recognized them, and she must have called into the house, because a moment later a few red heads popped out of various windows, and one or two joined Molly in the yard.

"No backing out now." Harry said with a chuckle.

"I wouldn't dream of it. We both need this, don't we?"

"As usual, I think you're right."

13