Giant thank you to abradystrix and divagonzo for betaing and being so supportive and wonderful.
Previously, on 'Waking Up'
-Hermione struggles on her own with plans to get her parents back, eating, and nightmares
-She and Harry have a tiff over her putting silencing spells on herself (to keep anyone from hearing nightmares)
-Harry Ron and Ginny play quidditch- and afterwards Ron and Hermione have a all out fight about her lack of self care and his doting
-Harry has a panic attack from a loud noise Ron witnesses (Hermione sees from hiding)
-Hermione and Ron make up with some grinding behind the shed
-George comes back (had previously been drunk and arrested- but only Ron and Arthur know about this)
-The trio get formal invitations to the Aurors and Order of Merlin
-Ron and Hermione have a convo where she says how dumb she thinks it is for Harry to become an Auror
CHAPTER 4: THE VILLAGE
His stomach swooped like he'd missed a step. The blaring panic, the contraction of his muscles as he wildly tried to keep from falling, the disequilibrium... It was all there, only there was no missed step: just him following Hermione into the house for lunch.
He slumped into a chair and stared around him.
George mostly kept his head down, unable to look anyone in the eye and forcing his gaze up only when he had trouble focusing on a question. Harry was still pale and making little jerky movements when there was a noise. Ginny was putting on a smile and pretending everything was alright, but he saw her mouth twitching and faltering every time she thought no one was looking. Mum was trying to keep the conversation going with George and spectacularly failing. With every failed conversation she looked a touch more deflated, a touch more wane, a touch more close to saying 'I need to take a nap.' Hermione was barely eating her food again, staring at Harry with concern. And Ron couldn't find it in himself to do anything to help anyone.
He didn't have words anymore. He'd used them all up over the last twelve hours. He'd gone to the Ministry to get George, he'd talked to the Minister about his future, he'd talked to his Dad about his past, he'd gone to the hotel to deal with George's mess, he'd played Quidditch, he'd fought with Hermione, he'd tried to be there through Harry's panic terror, then he and Hermione had gotten off behind the shed in the most spectacular way, but George was back, and now Hermione hated the idea of Aurors and would think he was an idiot for taking up with them and... And he couldn't take any more.
He knew it was ridiculous. It was nothing! He'd basically done nothing all day, but somehow Ron felt close to passing out.
"Eat up," Ginny prodded him, giving his plate a quizzical look. Oh right…
Ron took a bite of sandwich and muscled it down his throat. He mournfully gazed at the sandwich. It had looked so appetizing before his talk with Hermione. He was relieved she had no interest in being an Auror, but he hadn't predicted everything else.
He'd thought she'd be proud of the idea. It wasn't an accomplishment that Ron had been asked to be an Auror, since everyone and their owl seemed to be getting asked, but wasn't joining the right thing to do? Wasn't it a career choice she should be proud of him for?
Apparently not.
She'd snorted and rolled her eyes at Harry joining. Harry! The Boy-Who-Defeated Voldemort! If she thought Harry couldn't handle it, he couldn't imagine her thinking any better of him. In fact, he knew she wouldn't like it.
He started to see why Hermione couldn't eat. Who could? Everything was so horrid it was through pure force of will that he was able to eat his sawdust sandwich and swallow each bite. His body felt jittery and weak, and every time he reached for his glass of water, he was less and less sure he'd be able to hold it without it slipping from his grasp.
"I'm going to go shower," Ron mumbled to no one in particular, pushing himself away from the table, surprised at how together he was able to sound.
"Don't you want to stay and celebrate the sandwiches you made?" George asked. He had a panicked look in his eye that plainly said 'don't leave me here alone with them!' Ron wavered in place. Maybe he could find it in himself if—
"He's ripe! Let him shower," said Ginny. "Why don't we put on the wireless and listen to the game? Kestrels and Harpies are the first pair doing a post war charity match. It's set to start in a bit."
Some of the tension in George ebbed, and Ron vowed to give his little sister a giant hug when he wasn't feeling close to unconsciousness. He discreetly picked his letters up from the table and without another word he dragged himself up the stairs, one plodding foot at a time. He nearly caught his foot on the final stair, but finally made it safely to the bathroom. He placed his Ministry letters next to the sink and as the shower water heated he dared to look at himself in the mirror. He was pale with great purple bags under his eyes, but other than that looked better than he had when on the run with Horcruxes. Good. He might not be able to feel good, but he could look the part.
He turned the spigot to the shower and as hot water hit him in the chest he let out a sigh. The shower was the only place that really felt safe from everyone. Keeping watch late at night always had the chance of someone coming upon him, but in the shower with the too hot water pounding on him, he could rely on at least a moment of being completely alone. Safe and alone. Never clean though. No matter how the water scalded him, or how hard he scrubbed his skin raw, he never quite felt clean anymore.
He bent at the knees and stooped, chin tucked to his chest, to properly wet his hair. Given how tall all the Weasleys were, he wondered at how they'd never gotten around to installing a higher shower head. After only a few minutes of scrubbing he was too exhausted to stand, much less stoop so low.
Not ready to leave his steamy sanctuary, he put in the plug, and sat in the tub as it filled with water.
He hadn't expected to see George there today. Maybe a few days out… The moment he'd seen him crossing the lawn he'd hoped George would lose his nerve and go away again. He knew it was awful to wish it. He couldn't feel any relief at George's return. His brother looked like a dead man walking, and still vaguely smelled of booze, whether it was sweated out from his binge the night before or from a fresh bout of drinking, Ron wasn't sure, despite George's reassurances.
He sat in the tub, letting the warmth lull him into a dozy calm state he hadn't felt in ages. It didn't matter that the water barely made it a few inches above his navel and his legs were bent at a funny angle to keep as much of him underwater as possible. He finally turned off the faucet and propped his head against the still cool tile, letting sleep cloud his mind.
"Got you to scream good and loud for me, didn't I?" came a voice. He could feel the hot breath in his ear, the weight on top of him.
"Ron?"
He kicked out but was paralyzed and unable to move. He shook, fear clenching at him, invading his pores.
"Ron, you drowning in there?"
Ron startled and began to sit up, hand slipping as he tried to gain purchase against white porcelain. His whole body shook. His arm was curled under him and throbbed. The comforting warmth of the tub water had turned cold, but he couldn't help but feel that his shaking was due to the half-formed memories bubbling to the surface as he slept.
"Ron!" his sister called, more insistent than before.
"I'll be a minute, Ginny!" he hoarsely called back, sitting up straighter and blinking his eyes, willing wakefulness back into them.
"You've been there well over an hour already."
He dazedly looked about for his wand to reheat his water, not ready to face anyone. What was the spell for heating up water again? The only one that came to mind boiled water.
He should know this! He had to use it in the shower when they were on the Horcrux Hunt every time. His mind remained blank.
With a resigned sigh he shakily removed the stopper. No more warm bath for him. Maybe he would go upstairs and nap. He hugged his long legs close to his chest and flexed his numb left hand. His fingers only partially complied.
"Stupid bloody arm."
He shook it and hit the side of his fist against the tiled wall a few times. The fingers stuttered and twitched but finally started to move. He let out a pained hiss.
"Ron?"
"What!" He bit out.
"It's been over an hour!" Ginny insistently cried out.
"If you need the bathroom so bad, use it!" he yelled back, fumbling for his wand on the ground before opening the lock with a twist of his wand. "It's unlocked. Have at it!"
He jerked the curtain more tightly closed and roughly scrubbed his face, shivering at the slight breeze the opening door caused.
She shut the door and he heard the telltale sniffing of Ginny trying to keep herself from crying.
"Alright?" he asked.
"Oh yeah, really swell," she shot back with a wavering voice. She wasn't all out crying, but she was close enough.
The curtain almost imperceptibly swayed, and he could tell she'd sat herself on the floor next to the tub.
"It's been really... really great down there," she said, sniffing even harder.
Ron leaned his head back against the tile wall. So much for naps.
"Give me a few minutes and I can meet you in my room."
"Yeah?" Her voice sounded small and young; that, along with the brittle hope he heard in her voice, made his resentment evaporate.
"'Course."
"I'll see you there," she murmured, quickly leaving the bathroom.
He wanted to sit in the uncomfortably cold cast iron tub well after the last of the water had circled the drain. No matter how jittery his guts were feeling or how his eyes were burning with fatigue, he knew he couldn't.
He hadn't heard her sound that vulnerable in so long, it was almost a relief. After Riddle's diary it took her years to find her footing, but when she finally did there were a whole lot of walls up. She'd always been chatty and excitable, but now there was a forced enthusiasm she'd wheel out that never felt fully authentic to Ron. She'd always had a wicked sense of humor, but now it was more barbed and defensive. She'd always been a tough little thing, but now she exaggerated it and laid on the sass and swagger thick
He hoped there'd be a day he didn't notice the toll Voldemort took on his family, but that was unimaginable at this point.
He Accio ' d some clean clothes from his room and changed. He glanced at the mirror and saw an imprint of the tiles on his cheek.
"Nothing for that…" he mumbled to himself, giving a yawn before going up the stairs to his room, Ministry letters clutched once again in his hand.
He had never particularly minded how many flights it was up to his room — it was one of the only reasons he was afforded any privacy in the overcrowded house— but lately he'd begun to hate how many flights of stairs he had to ascend. When he was bone weary, and not fully trusting himself to apparate safely, it was a real kick in the bollocks. He gave a knock on the door before going in.
Ginny sat on his bed, her face blotchy and red.
He sat beside her and waited for her to say something. When she stayed silent he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a one armed hug.
"It's just..." she said with a deep inhale, before a sound burst out of her, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She stifled it behind a hand. He gripped his shaking sister tighter.
"You saw George! And Mum is… I've never seen her so tired, so bloody old ." Her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears. "And Hermione is still acting off and Harry… I don't know what happened, but he's been shaking ever since Quidditch and his hugs have been too tight, and I don't… I don't know!"
Ron quietly nodded, as his sister turned her head into his shoulder and hot tears soaked through his shirt.
As children she used to cry all the time, half of the time just to get her way. After her horrifying first year there had been plenty of nights he'd found her crying. Those nights he'd stay with her until morning. Then the crying stopped. Her eyes might flood with angry or worried tears, but she didn't cry all-out in front of him after that. Ron caught her sniffing and trying to stifle her tears after Harry dumped her late one night. She never asked him to help her or to stay, but he stayed with her until morning that time too.
Minutes passed and finally her silent crying slowed.
"Sorry," she muttered into his shoulder.
"S'nothing," he said, gently patting her back in small circles, the same way their Mum did.
"I'm just glad you're doing alright. At least someone in the family hasn't gone completely mental on me."
Ron breath stilled a bit as he continued to consolingly pat her. He wouldn't think of the dream he'd had in the bath.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he choked out. He swallowed and hoped his voice would come out steady. "Tonight we'll go out and have some fun, yeah? I bet we can get some smiles on their faces, between the two of us."
She gave a watery laugh, pulled away from him, and wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands.
"Yeah, between the two of us," she said with a smile. It faltered and she looked at her hands. "But we won't be able to team up for much longer, will we?"
"Wha'dyou mean?"
She bit her lip. "You're going to join the Aurors with Harry, aren't you?"
Ron let out his breath between his teeth. "Yeah. Yeah I am," he said, bracing himself for a lecture. Instead he felt his breath squeezed out of him by a fierce hug.
"I knew you would!" She pulled back, smiling at him.
"Yeah, well, someone has to make sure Harry doesn't get blown up or something."
"Exactly! If anyone can keep him from that, it's you." She rubbed at her eyes again.
He didn't know whether to be flattered or offended by her response. He wanted someone to be happy for him, of course, but the way she was looking at him she seemed more happy he'd be there to keep Harry safe.
"Don't tell Hermione I'm becoming one." Ginny gave him a questioning look, prompting him to explain. "She's not too keen on the idea and I want to figure out a way to tell her myself."
"How do you know she's against it?"
"I felt her thoughts out for it, didn't I? She made a fuss over Harry becoming one, saying he was 'throwing his life away,' how it was a 'ridiculous choice.'"
"Well," she said rather slowly. "I can't say I entirely blame her…"
"How's that?" Offense rose inside him. Did everyone have a meeting to agree they thought he was weak?
"Oh come off it. Auror isn't exactly the safest of jobs, is it? And with the war we just went through and Fr—" Her voice stopped short. "With everyone we lost, it won't be easy for any of us knowing you're out there fighting Death Eaters again. Only this time we can't help you."
"We'll be fine," he said with a nonchalance he didn't feel. Ginny gave him a sharp look. "Don't worry. I'll keep your boyfriend safe."
"I'd like you to stay safe too, you know," she said, jabbing him in the side with one of her pointy little elbows.
"Aw, Gin. You do care!" he said with a forced laugh, hoping to prod her into better humor.
"Only for Harry's sake. He'd never function with you," she snorted and smiled fondly at him, before giving him a punch to the arm that would have hurt if her fists weren't so tiny.
"You'd miss me if a Death Eater spelled my brains out."
"You'd have to have brains in order for them to be spelled out!" she snickered.
"Well I'm sure the Ministry would be just as happy to have me be a human shield for Harry, so it doesn't matter if I have much brains or not."
She gave him a much less friendly strike to the arm before snapping, "Don't talk like that!"
Tingles erupted down his left arm where she'd hit him.
"Sorry," Ron said sobberly. He needed to stop making comments like that around his family. Gallows humor wasn't as easy to traverse as it had been before, or even during, the war. He massaged his arm where she'd struck it.
They looked at each other before she sighed.
"Better toughen up a bit before you join," said Ginny. She attempted to smile at him, but it was a miserable attempt. So much for cheering up his sister. She rose from the bed with a sigh. "I've been gone a bit long for a trip to the loo— not that they'd notice, they're all so out of it— You coming?"
Ron shook his head.
"I want to fill out my Auror documents before someone tries to talk me out of it."
Ginny gave an understanding smile. "Yeah, best to get it over with now. Gives Hermione less to hassle you about if there's 'Official Ministry Paperwork' already submitted."
"Cheers," he replied as she left.
He collapsed back on his bed and unfurled the Auror paperwork Kingsley had sent. Much of it was just forms he had to fill out, questionnaires, and towards the end was an outline of the program, pay, and signing bonus - information he hadn't even considered. Refreshingly, he'd be making his own way right off the bat!
He needed to get all sorts of documents sent in to them as well: permission for release of grades and medical records from Hogwarts, a written out CV of sorts, and he'd need to have medical and mental evaluations that would be arranged through the Auror office, as well as a final interview.
He dropped the papers on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. His chest tightened.
Kingsley hadn't said anything about evaluations or interviews…
Looking at it laid out in black and white made his decision become more tangible than before, and the thought of failing made his gut clench. So far no one seemed to think him capable of being a competent Auror. Maybe he'd not even be able to qualify after all. If his doubters were right about him it'd just be another time he'd fucked up and disappointed everyone.
Hermione might think becoming an Auror so soon after the war was stupid, but if he couldn't even get past the evaluations he knew she'd respect him less. If Harry failed an evaluation or utterly bombed an interview Ron had no doubt they'd still let him through. He was The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, or whatever it was they were calling him now. But Ron? He was a complete nobody. The only reasons Kingsley talked to him were because of the family connection and their need for warm bodies in the department. The bar was as low as it could ever be, and Ron could still fuck it up. It was one thing when he'd privately agreed to be an Auror, but now everyone knew he'd been asked. They'd all know if he fucked up.
He thought it was a guarantee, but now... Now it was this looming uncertain mass of chaos, where anything could happen. He could let everyone down, just like he always did. He could fail and not get in.
Or worse, what if they let him into the Aurors and he fucked up the same way he had in the war? He was so weak he'd just stood by while Fred died. He was so weak the Locket had almost made him kill his best friend. He was so weak he'd abandoned Harry and Hermione. He was so weak he'd been captured by Snatchers in minutes and they'd —
He fled to his wastebasket and gagged over it before he splattered sick into the container. The foul taste made him vomit again, making tears sting his eyes. He couldn't stop the retching and continued until it was nothing but dry-heaves.
"F-fuck..." he panted, and wiped at his eyes. He pushed the small bin away from himself, face curled into distaste. He spelled the sick away and did a quick tooth cleaning spell as well, which only helped remove the acrid taste from his mouth so much. The smell didn't entirely dissipate from the room either.
The Auror forms still sat on the bed.
Ron grabbed them and nearly shut them in his bedside drawer when his hand stilled. He laid them on his pillow, gently un-creasing them.
He'd told Kingsley he'd sign up. He'd told his dad. He'd told George. He'd told Ginny. His mother was expecting him to sign up. Harry couldn't go it alone.
He let out a trembling breath. He needed to get a quill and ink before he lost the will.
Finding no writing implements in his bedside drawer he looked about in his old Hogwarts trunk. After diving through old robes, essays, books, chocolate frog cards, and other detritus, he'd not found one intact quill. The only ink bottle he'd found was completely dried out, a large black stain beside it marring the bottom of his trunk's interior. He riffled through Harry's belongings and was still empty handed, only finding a very dull quill on its last legs, but no bottles of ink that weren't dried out with flakes of ink rattling in them.
How did two of-age blokes not have one quill and ink set between them? Giving up, he made his way to Ginny's room. He unsuccessfully poked about in her small roll top desk when he noticed Hermione's book bag.
Jackpot.
She'd been writing just earlier. He could nick what he needed and return them before she knew they were gone.
He gave a chuckle as he found numerous bottles of ink, and quills galore at the bottom of her stuffed bag. Only Hermione would have brought that many backups on her person to translate runes in a field. As he put everything back, her somewhat ratty copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard fell open, scattering parchments across the floor.
He gave a groan and stooped to the floor, trying to put the papers in some semblance of order. He'd read the book enough to know what order the stories went in at least. Her usual neat and ordered writing looked almost as loopy and sloppy as his, but after a tick he realized he wasn't holding translations at all.
There were haphazard notes and semblances of ideas, none about fairy tales or runes.
Portkey. (need to research obtaining one and cost) Taxi. ( £60?) Hotel. (?) Food. (?) Yellow pages. Government records. Private investigator. (cost?) Go to library? Research prices and conversion rate. Check on house. How many days would I be gone?
It took a few moments to decipher the cryptic list. Conversion rates? A portkey? Where was she planning on going? Then it hit him with all the subtlety of a bludger to the head. This was about her parents, and Australia.
He'd been so taken up with his family he hadn't really thought about Hermione's. They were safely away, and though Hermione had talked about them in passing, she'd never mentioned going to get them.
Normally he could imagine her dealing with this on her own. Her sharp mind always parsed problems with ease, and she was a bit of a genius to boot. Lately though… It wasn't like she wasn't still incredibly intelligent, but there was something off in just about everything she did. The way she ate, the way she talked, the way she slept… Her usual meticulous notes were haphazard and directionless, laid out in a mess like he'd never seen from her before.
Funds- £56 5 Galleons, 2 knuts. Sell jewelry from home? Get loan? Rent house? Ask Harry?
Get job- where? Muggle or wizard?
He wasn't exactly sure how much fifty-six pounds was in Wizard money, but he doubted it could be all that much, if the local Muggle market's grocery prices were anything to go by. He couldn't imagine her getting a job or sorting all the details out on her own in her current state.
Ron carefully tucked the pages back into Beedle and placed it in her bag.
Sure he'd put things back in their place, he bounded up the stairs and began filling out forms at a haphazard pace. Giving the forms a final once over, he called Pig over to deliver them. Before he'd even had a chance to attach them, his little owl excitedly chirped and flew straight into the window.
"Shit! Pig, you ok?" Ron asked, picking up the little owl. Pig shook his head and cheeped at Ron, eagerly cuddling up under his chin. "Alright alright! Calm down! Keep it together. I need you to deliver these for me. This goes to the Auror Admissions Office at the Ministry. Think you can find that and not fly into any more windows?"
Pig preened and twittered in confirmation as Ron tied the forms to his leg.
"You've got this, little guy," he said, before opening the window and watching his owl fly into the distance.
Hopefully the department would get him assessed quickly. Even with his starting money from the Auror program he wasn't sure it would be enough to cover a trip around the world to recover her parents. Maybe he could work somewhere to make some more money for her? If he started by the end of the week, perhaps he could save enough to get Hermione to her parents before Hogwarts commenced.
She didn't know where to find her parents, but he knew exactly who to seek help with for this. Percy had been put in charge of family reunification. Sure, Hermione had split her family up, not the war or imprisonment, but surely she'd still qualify for help. It was the least the Ministry could do for her after everything she'd gone through. When he went to the Ministry for his assessments he'd nip on down to Percy's office.
Semblance of a plan in place, he loped down the stairs.
In the living room the match between the Kestrels and Harpies was still playing over the radio.
George had nodded off in a corner of the sofa, while their mum sleepily knitted in her usual chair, looking a bit more herself. Ginny was seated on the other end of the sofa with Harry leaning against her legs. His friend looked thoroughly blissed as one of her hands went through his hair. She caught Ron's eye and gave him a small smile that he returned. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes seeing his best friend look like that with his baby sister, but he didn't have the heart when they looked so very calm and happy.
As pleasing as it was to see things had calmed down, none of them were the person he was looking for. Ginny caught his consternation and indicated her head towards the kitchen.
He spun and found Hermione putting some mugs on a tray. She turned to him and smiled. In a few strides he was behind her, putting his arms around her and kissing her temple. He reveled in the feeling of her relaxing into his chest and held her even tighter.
"Mmm I missed you," she said in a languid voice. Visions of her damned lists for Australia flooded his mind.
"M'sorry I haven't been here for you," he mumbled into her hair.
"I must admit, listening to a Quidditch game on the wireless is not exactly my idea of fun," she said with a small laugh.
"I'll make it up to you."
"Oh?" she asked, turning around to look at him, her full lips just barely turning up in a mischievous smile. Her hair was mussed with the ends of her waves fraying in several errant directions, just like they had earlier behind the shed. Her questioning gaze pierced right through him, making him feel ten feet tall and as small as a gnome all at once. Merlin, she was the prettiest thing he'd ever beheld.
He leaned in to catch her lips, hand grazing her soft cheek, before leaning his forehead against hers.
"You're being awfully sweet," she whispered.
"You need some sweetness," he said, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll get the tea, you go sit."
"I was thinking of taking a nap, actually."
"Yeah?" he asked, putting the kettle on the stove. "Would you mind some company?"
"I actually do want to nap, and not… Not the activities we did earlier."
"Activities?" he slowly repeated.
"Er… Behind the shed." A wonderful blush tinged her cheeks, making his own neck start to heat up.
"Oh right!" His voice embarrassingly cracked a bit. He grabbed a tin of tea from the shelf, before looking across to Hermione. "Well— well, as much as I enjoyed those activities , I really could use a kip."
"Wouldn't your Mum mind?" She bit her lip, looking far too worried about something as silly as a nap next to her boyfriend.
"Honestly, given her reaction to catching us snogging the other day, I don't think she'd much care, seeing as we're only napping…" He squinted and scrutinised her, before giving a cheesy grin. "Unless you were planning something else?"
"No, we are definitely only napping!" she primly replied, her little nose scrunching up to glare at him.
He loved it when she scrunched her face like that. He'd keep poking her until she'd be warring between laughter and throwing up her hands in disgust. She could scowl and pout and even stomp her feet saying he'd crossed some indecorous line— but after years of teasing her, he had a good sense for where the actual lines were drawn for her. Honestly, it was a bit thrilling to walk those lines, waiting to see how she'd react.
"What was that line from that Shaker guy… The lady doth protest too much?" Ron asked.
"Don't think Shakespeare will make me think you're less disgusting!"
"Hey, I just want to nap. You're the one who's inferring all sorts of filthy things."
"I'm not!"
"Who brought up our time behind the shed, and who brought up actually sleeping?" She rolled her eyes, but her flush deepened. His grin grew broader. "That's what I get for dating an older woman."
"Older woman?" she snorted.
"Older and wiser in the ways of the world. Trying to corrupt this poor youth," he said, giving her a pat on the head. She gave what was supposed to be an intimidating glare, then landed a playful swat at his arm, looking around to see if anyone had heard.
"We're only napping! Stop being such a troglodyte."
"I dunno… Are you certain you can keep your hands off me?"
"Quite," she muttered, though her mouth was twitching. "You'll be lucky if I ever want to look at you again, you prat,"
"Good thing, that, cause I am absolutely knackered," he said with a yawn that started feigned, but ended up rumbling through his ears and becoming quite genuine. "Couldn't keep up with you and your endless seductions if I wanted."
Her face was so flushed, he was surprised she hadn't broken into a sweat. Instead she hid her face in her hands and let out something between a groan and a giggle. "Sto-oop!"
"Fine, I'll stop." He leaned down and kissed her hair. "But only because you're cute when you blush."
She smiled in earnest at his compliment. He liked how bashful she got whenever he did it. He needed to do it more.
"I guess we'll meet in your room then?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'll meet you upstairs once I'm done serving this lot tea."
He watched her go with a look that had to be besotted beyond anything, but he didn't care. He was still shocked he got to kiss her every day. Not wanting Hermione to change her mind, he quickly got tea to the living room, finding Ginny was the only one left awake.
"Can you put a heat-preserving charm on the teas for when they wake up?" she whispered.
He silently fulfilled her request and headed up the stairs, muffling a laugh behind his hand. He'd remembered the heating charm for water! He didn't mind the stairs knowing he had Hermione waiting in his bed, and took them two at a time.
He gave a knock and opened his door to find his orange room didn't look the same as it had earlier.
"Looks nice in here," he said, looking around the room.
There had been bits of mess in all the corners when he left, but she'd tidied them all and spelled some curtains over the windows, making the room feel a whole lot less like a rank teenage boy's room and much more a cozy den for dozing. His bed had also been expanded by a few feet.
The best sight was her, though.
She was curled up in the corner of his bed, sleepily blinking at him, a little smile on her lips. He considered changing out of his jeans to be more comfortable, but maybe she'd been right about warning him from any activities. With her head on his pillow, hair enticingly falling around her shoulders, and her wrapped in his sheets… Yeah, it'd be best to keep the jeans on.
He slipped in beside her and felt a charge run through him as she snuggled up to his chest, her arm ribboning around his middle. The contented keenness he'd felt quickly faded as her breathing evened out and she quickly fell asleep.
Alone, and with nothing to distract him, his mind teemed with Australia, the Aurors, and about a million other things. He tried concentrating on the feel of Hermione in his arms, the whiff of vanilla lipgloss she always used, the cadence pattern of her breath. He closed his eyes.
Sleep gave him a giant middle finger as a feeling of dread settled in. Shit. He'd become such a fucking sad sack!
At one point in his life he had been able to silently sit with himself. He used to be able to lounge and happily daydream. He could allow his mind to blankly relax, and the only chatter would be that of Hermione's, spilling over him like a warm bath.
Now his mind was overly full, and Hermione silently held him. She hadn't excitedly gabbed about things in ages. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked so thin and fragile it made something deep in his chest ache.
If she could hear his thoughts she'd be berating him, claiming how very un-fragile she was. Until the past few weeks, he never would have dared to dispute it. She was tenacious and determined, using her brains and stubbornness to push herself beyond her comfort and limits all the time. Perhaps she'd pushed herself too many times. Maybe her body and mind had finally given out, like a Patronus when a herd of Dementors bore down on them.
His breath hitched as memories began to dredge up.
"You awake?" he whispered.
He felt her, rather than heard her, give a small irritated grunt that vibrated against his ribs.
"Right, sorry. You said you needed a nap…"
She nodded and squeezed him before going lax against him again. Minutes passed and he could tell she was asleep from her deep even breaths.
She was asleep. And everyone else too. No one was keeping watch.
If someone came to the house there would be no one there to stop them. They could push right in and blow the living room up without a second thought. Or a few well placed demolishing charm explosions could bring the whole place down if they wanted.
Mind rattling like a broom pushed too far and fast, a restlessness stole even the whispers of sleep from him. He tried to peer out the window without moving, but Hermione had done too thorough a job blocking out the windows.
He was being ridiculous. No one would wage an attack in the middle of the afternoon. Or would they try because it was less expected and there would be less people defending the house? Everyone knew his dad worked at the Ministry and could trail him easy enough, and there was still a long list of Death Eaters, political criminals, and even Snatchers on the run who all might want a piece of them. If he bailed now, then it only left Ginny awake. Did she even have a wand on her?
So many thoughts pressed against his skull that they barely felt his own. He knew what it was to share his mind with outside forces; to have thoughts not his own intruding, slithering between the cracks and widening them into chasms. He didn't need a locket to do it now, though. Worry after worry rattled at him until he couldn't lay still another moment. He had to check outside!
He did his best to gently extricate Hermione's thin arm, despite his anxiousness, and opened the window covering enough to have a proper look out. Nothing. There was nothing.
Everyone was napping and able to find some semblance of peace, but there he was with a rattling brain. No one was awake, and there was no way to force himself to sleep at this point.
He felt ridiculously alone, despite having Hermione just feet away in his bed. He hadn't felt nearly this alone in the tub, which made zero sense.
He went to the bed and gently pushed some of the curls away from Hermione's face. Her brows creased with worry even in her sleep. He knew what he could do to ease her worries. He brushed a kiss against her forehead headed for the garden. Eventually either people would awaken or someone would arrive— either way he could leave after and solve one of Hermione problems. After only a few minutes there was a 'pop!' of apparition.
"Dad!" he called out. They exchanged security questions before Ron said, "Didn't expect you back so soon."
"Well, even with things at the Ministry in such a mess, we need a bit of time off," he replied, looking every bit as tired as Ron felt. "It helps that Kingsley knew I could use some sleep after last night. Were you able to get a kip in?"
"A bit."
His father looked at him with concern, but said no more on it. "I didn't expect George to come home so soon. How's he been?"
"When he arrived I stopped him out here to make sure he was able to handle all of— of this..." he said gesturing to the house. "He thought I was saying he couldn't 'be happy enough' or something… Got a bit shirty, so there's that. "
Ron went on to explain the outing George and everyone were planning for the evening.
"Do you think that's wise, given what happened last night?"
"No, it's daft, but everyone could use it. Even bIoody Harry looked pleased about it. Don't worry, though. I can watch after George."
"You don't have to watch after your brother."
"Well if I don't then—"
"If he breaks his parole by apparating drunk again, that's on him. Not you," his father said with finality. "He's a grown man and he shouldn't have a child tending to him."
"I'm not a child. I'm eighteen," said Ron, drawing himself up, making sure his father could see how he had a fair few inches on him. "I need to go to the village."
"Oh?" He waited for an explanation but Ron didn't give one. "Get some bread and rashers while you're there?"
Ron gave a grunt, but grabbed some muggle money from a tin on the shelf.
It was a familiar walk he had taken many a time before. He could remember running alongside his much older brothers as they went on errands for their mum, and other times sprinting on his own to find the secret little spot he'd found hidden in the village.
In a house so crowded it was rare to find a moment to oneself. He'd been elated to find his own place to hide that no one knew about. A little spot all his own! How clever he'd felt to have a hideout no one knew of. There was a giant stump that must have been one of those old world trees, it looked so massive. Sunbeams would freckle the bit of earth and willows with sunlight, and the nearby bakery made it smell like Mum's kitchen.
The spot was abandoned and close to an apparition point. He could apparate there quite safely and save himself and his tired body the walk. It wouldn't be like last time. It would surely be safe to apparate there now. He would not be surrounded. He would not taste blood in his mouth. He would… much rather walk.
As he walked he felt the warmth of the sun penetrating his skin, most likely bound to give him a sunburn. Stupid bloody ginger complexion. Despite his ambling pace he reached the village in a short time and saw a familiar pub. He'd called Hermione from it enough times to know the help there by face, but never by name.
Stepping in he saw the most familiar face glowering at him from behind the bar. Ron ducked his head a bit, seeing the annoyance and recognition on the man's face.
"You come to yell into one of me phones again?" the broad man asked him.
Ron's ears burned. That wasn't very fair. He'd only screamed into the phone a few times. He'd learned since then and had done a pretty good job of volume control since. He was surprised he was recognized. He was over half a foot taller than he had been, and definitely wasn't as scrawny.
"I came to see if you have any work I can help with, or know of one hearabouts," he said rather stoutly.
"Just so happens we could use someone on the late shifts for a few pickup hours here or there. Bussing and washing dishes," the barman said, crossing his arms as he looked Ron up and down. "You have any experience?"
"I can clean and know how to drive," Ron ticked off. Ron had never driven a bus, but had enough experience washing dishes. Maybe not the Muggle way, or in a restaurant, but he could manage. "I live a ten minute walk away and I'll work real hard."
"What motivates yer then?"
"My girl," he answered simply, though it made his neck burn.
The man rolled his eyes. "Jaysus— I meant what can I say to make you move your arse."
"Oh! Well… Just tell me to and... and I will."
The barman kept looking him up and down with a surly expression on his face.
"Well, I'll think about it. I can call you later to give an answer."
"But I don't have a phone."
"Not at all?" the barman asked, his heavy brows scrunching even further together. "Just buy one at the shop around the corner."
"Well, we don't have el- electricity at our place," Ron tripped over his words. Electricity was one of those words so often said wrong in his house it was hard to remember the right term. "It's just an old farm."
Ron hoped it didn't sound too off to the Muggle man. He was looking oddly at Ron, as if trying to work out a puzzle about him, but was no longer scowling.
"If you're worried about giving me schedules or whatever, maybe you can put a note in the window with my hours?" Ron offered, filling up the silence, not comfortable under such direct scrutiny. "I can check it every morning and night to see if you need me."
"You're more trouble than you're worth," the barman sighed.
"I'd work hard, I promise!"
The man barked for someone to come out from the kitchen to cover the rather barren bar, and walked through a swinging door to the back, leaving Ron to awkwardly stand about, not knowing what to do with his hands.
"Well? You coming?" the barkeep growled.
"Oh! Yeah!" Ron said, following him. He wasn't that familiar with Muggle customs, so perhaps it was a thing to just walk off like that? He followed him past some metal tables and a giant metal door to a small humid room.
"This is the dishwasher," he said, pulling a lever to reveal scalding dishes and tons of steam. "Dishes and such get scraped and rinsed with the hose, put through this, then once dry you put 'em out for us to use. Easy enough?"
It was simple enough. His dad would be over the moon to inspect the shiny metal box and gadgetry. He was not looking forward to scraping plates if he were to be hired, but the Muggle didn't have to know that he'd just be scourgifying stuff in the back half the time. It was private enough back there that he could do it without being seen.
"You got any rubber shoes?"
"Rubber?" asked Ron, perplexed.
"So you don't scald your feet with hot water." he said, pointing at Ron's scuffed trainers that had definitely seen better days. They were a bit too tight and his toe almost popped out of one of them. His newer pair was buried on Dobby's tiny body. "Well?"
"Oh! Er… I have some leather boots or wellies I could borrow."
The man gave him the same studying look at Ron.
"That'll do. You come in tomorrow at two tomorrow afternoon."
Ron stopped short. "So… Does that mean—?"
"I'm not asking you to come use our phone, am I? This is a trial period only, but if you move your arse you get to stay and make decent wages."
"Right!" he said nodding before smiling. He hadn't realized the barkeep was the manager or whatever of the pub, and he most definitely hadn't realized he'd just been hired. "Thank you so much!"
"We still need to fill out your paperwork. How old're you?"
"Eighteen."
"This your first job?"
"Does that matter?"
"Cagey, you are…" the barkeep said with a scrutinizing look. "But long as you're on time I don't much care."
He was handed a form, which made it the seventeenth form of the day he had to fill out, but he couldn't mind. He now had a way to make Hermione money for her trip! This plus the signing bonus from the Aurors should cover the costs. He started to fill it out with a pen, but quickly found they wanted all sorts of numbers and information he couldn't give without thinking up a lie, or enchanting the paper to fool the Muggle manager. Making up his mind to finish it later, and find out what a National Insurance Number was, he took his form and left.
He found some of the restless tension he'd wrestled with since the wee hours of the morning had dissipated. He'd finally been able to do something right and took steps towards making a difference.
He turned the corner to grab some the groceries his father had requested when all the elation fled his body.
A fence had been torn down, because it normally wouldn't be visible from the small lane. He could clearly see the stump he'd apparated to all those months ago. His childhood safe spot that had been desecrated. Part of him wanted to go explore it, but the other wanted to burn the little area to the ground. Instead he stood and stared at it, completely frozen.
He wasn't sure how long he'd stood there staring, but by the time he came to himself the form he'd been given by the pub manager was wrinkled to shit, his nails had driven themselves deep into his fisted hands enough to bleed a tiny bit, and a clock was chiming the the hour, when he'd sworn it was a good thirty minute til.
He turned around and returned home, wiping the blood on his jeans.
As he arrived home, he saw Bill and Charlie setting up tables and chairs outside.
"Ron!" cried Charlie, a rumble of chairs and benches walking into place across the lawn. "Order of Merlin? And the Aurors! Brilliant!"
"Yes, well done," added Bill, giving Ron a nod and look of approval. At one point Ron would have preened at such attention from his eldest brothers, but he just felt raw and strange under their gazes.
"Not much of a surprise, though," said Charlie, giving Ron a thump on the back that nearly sent him sprawling. "After all you did the last year or so, they were bound to want you."
Ron tried to smile at them, though he knew it was more of a grimace.
"I'd better help Mum, if she's cooking for everyone."
"Don't worry, Fleur's got it," said Charlie, heading inside to get more chairs.
"How're you doing?" asked Bill. He had a discerning look on his face that Ron wanted nothing to do with.
"'M fine," he said with a shrug.
"It's an ok day, though. You got awards and job offers. And George is back, of course."
Ron gave a snort. "I guess."
"Well you've been doing a lot around the house. Glad you're going out tonight."
Ron gave huff. "I'm not exactly looking forward to it."
"Why not?"
"Just don't feel like it." He couldn't say how George would need babysitting, how Harry was one loud crash away from killing someone with a spell, how Hermione looked ready to keel over, how Ginny was almost crying all the time, or how he was so fucking tired. Bill was waiting for an explanation. "There's just… There's a lot going on."
Bill gave a nod. "If you want to get away from things for a bit, maybe you could come to Shell Cottage for a visit."
"I'm not running away to your place to escape my responsibilities anymore."
"Ron, that's not what happened."
"Don't tell me what happened!" Ron snapped. His fists clenched and he felt the raw crescent cuts in his palms sting.
"Fine then... Dad told me what all you've been up to, including George last night. It's great you're helping out everyone, but you can't keep running yourself into the ground."
"I'm not," he replied with a forced calm, "I'm fine."
Bill looked unconvinced.
"You look like shit. Maybe you should take a nap before going out."
"Cheers," Ron said with a roll of his eyes, pushing past Bill into the house.
As usual it was a crush of people inside. In the corner he saw Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson had joined their party as well, giving him even more cover.
No-one noticed another redhead amongst the lot and he was able to escape to the stairs without anyone the wiser. When he got to his room he found Harry, Ginny and Hermione convening, so he quickly stashed the form for the pub in his back pocket.
"Look who's back," said Ginny with a smile. Harry and Hermione both turned, Harry looking immensely relieved and Hermione looking worried.
"You alright?" Harry asked, as Hermione simultaneously asked, "Where were you?"
He stutteringly explained he'd gone to the village for some supplies, and though Harry and Ginny seemed to take this at face value, Hermione didn't look convinced. She didn't have time to question him, though, as they were all called to dinner.
"You don't normally go to the village alone for supplies," Hermione noted, as Harry and Ginny walked well ahead of them.
"Yeah, well, usually Mum's the one to get stuff, isn't she?"
She looked inclined to push him on it, so as they took their seats Ron wedged himself between Ginny and his Mum, knowing both would be too distracted by others to bother with him.
He was happy to not speak to anyone and just listen to conversations.
"Well, Percy couldn't come because of his work with family reunification at the DMT. His desk is just swamped with people looking for their families," Mum was explaining to Fleur.
"Weren't you playing Quidditch for the Bats?" Charlie asked Angelina.
"The Tornadoes, but you need peripheral vision and mine's a bit shit on the right side since the war."
Down the table Lee sat with George, whose smile almost looked genuine. Lee's hair was a bit lopsided where he'd had to shave it off. Part of it had burnt off, and he had a wicked burn scar down the back of his neck.
Ron couldn't help thinking how there were so many ways a person can lose things in a war: careers, body parts, dignity, friends, a brother.
"Hey, everyone, a toast!" George suddenly burst out. Ron winced, but everyone else seemed happy to raise their glasses. "To The Tallest of Little Brothers and his fine sandwich making skills, the Brain who set out the flatware so nicely for this meal, and The Boy-Who-Kicked-Arse at playing chess against Charlie, who sucks balls."
Everyone laughed and said cheers, with two exceptions. The first was Mum, who was chastising George for his language and 'not saying a word about what they'd actually accomplished,' though she had a bit of a smile on her face she was trying to hide.
The second was Ron, who wasn't sure if he'd ever feel like celebrating anything again.
Thanks so much for reading and all the support, lovelies! :D
If you like this, please leave a comment! :D They mean so much to me and motivate me so much as well.
Sorry it's been a while between updates. In a very intense grad school program :P
KEEP SAFE! KEEP IT MAGICAL! :)
-Hill