As per usual, I am immensely grateful to my beta reader Abradystix. Sorry for the delay- between a death in the family and school starting up it's been rather busy lately. Hope you like this new chapter!

Previously in Waking Up:

Hermione dealt with her growing depression and while cleaning Ron's room discovers he's going to become an Auror, and had never told her.

He comes in and a huge row breaks out- he claims she'd not be a good Auror, and she prods at his time away from the Horcrux hunt calling it a 'little Holiday'

Upset by the fight, Hermione goes to her parents' house. Fleur meets her and does some booby trap spells before disarming them. Fleur gives her a brown paper package, and it's revealed that Ron had been tortured by Snatchers- the back of his clothes tattered and stained.

Eventually she and Harry find Ron working at a pub in the nearby village- she finds Ron and apologizes. They make up and they agree to meet back in Ron's room.

Chapter warnings: ptsd therapy notes, negative self-talk, fleeting disturbing implications/imagery, mildly suggestive thoughts

CHAPTER 11: COMBAT READINESS EXAM #2 - PART 1

When Ron finished his shift, he hung up his apron and opened the back door to a rush of wind and water.

"Great," Ron said to himself as he eyed the storm. From inside his loud dishwashing room he hadn't known it had started coming down. Stinging memories of splinching left him never fully trusting himself with Apparition on a good day. Haggard after a long day, he definitely didn't like his chances of keeping his fingers and other pieces intact. He felt like freshly fleshed leather.

He'd seen leather being made at a local faire once. The 'fleshing' process was gruesome to watch. The gross skin they'd been marinating in chemicals had been stretched thin and they scraped off the muscles and tendons leaving only the thin bit of hide to go on to de-hair and tan. It had been disgusting and made quite the impression on a six year old. He'd cried and sworn not to eat animals ever again, and of course had been laughed at by his brothers for being a crybaby, blubbering over something like leather when they regularly ate their own chickens and the neighbours' sheep.

That night his Mum had made a roast dinner and the smell had been so intoxicating he left his very principled vegetarianism at the faire. But the vivid image of hide being pulled taut and scrapped out had stayed with him. Anymore Ron felt that was all that he was — tenetized, scraped and stretched until there was nothing inside. He was just so tired…

His miserable state of mind must have shown on his face because Paul soon joined him. "Nice weather for ducks, eh?"

Ron gave a small moan of ascension.

"You live near here?" he asked, putting his apron on the hook. "I can give you a lift if you like. Car's round the corner."

It was tempting, but not sure what sort of magic they might run into at the Burrow, Ron shook his head. "That's okay. It's not a long walk. Maybe ten minutes?"

A moment later Ron felt something strike the back of his head and fall to the ground. He whipped around and saw Eckles had chucked an umbrella at him from the lost and found.

"Fucking idiot," Eckles snorted.

Ron quickly retrieved the striped umbrella from the freshly mopped floor.

"Thanks."

Eckles gave a grunt before putting on an oversized raincoat that could probably house a family of four. It barely fit around his wide frame. "Now you two, piss off. I need to lock up."

The two shuffled out of the way under the roof's overhang for their manager to lock up. Paul quickly ran for his car with his t-shirt up over his head, while Ron fiddled with the umbrella, his left hand shaking a bit as he tried to open the fiddly thing. He'd just managed it when Eckles gave a bark of, "Weasley. You don't need to come in tomorrow."

Ron looked at him with raised brows. "But… But I'm already taking hours off for my exams. Can't I—"

"No. You can make up for it later with more shifts, if you need."

"I don't need the time off," Ron insisted. He might have the Ministry help to pay for Hermione's Australia trip, but that didn't mean he wanted to skip on having his own money altogether. There could be all sorts of stuff they needed that the government wouldn't cover. Plus he didn't trust bureaucracy to help as much as Percy did. "I don't have exams tomorrow, Sunday evening, Monday morning or Tuesday evening! I have loads of times I can come in—"

"You're wrung out. Go concentrate on exams," Eckles said in a way that broached no argument. "If I see that freckled mug of yours anywhere near here before you've finished exams, you're fired."

"Alright, then, I won't come in!" He exclaimed before muttering, "Fucksake…"

Eckles gave a deep growl, and stomped off into the storm.

Ron stepped out from under the roof and his trainers uncomfortably squelched into ankle deep mud. He could feel the slurry running under socks and gave a shudder as he trudged through the sludge. Not far down the street he found the usual path flooded. Nearby daisies had water rushing half way up their little green stalks. He swore under his breath.

He knew the drier path he could easily take. It would wind him back on the packed dirt path home and only take a minute or two longer.

But he hadn't been there at night since last winter.

It had been raining that night too. Hermione was sobbing after him to come back when he Apparated away. When he had reappeared it had been frigid with mist and misery everywhere, but not much rain. His mind had immediately cleared from the locket's claws and he wanted to go straight back, but...

Ron shook his head. The thought of facing it in the dark by himself quickly made him run straight through the deep water.

Despite the umbrella and a few spells to dry himself along the way, he was wet through again by the time he got home.

All the lights were out, save a small light in his window.

Hermione.

He liked knowing she'd be in his bed. She'd probably find it primal and sexist— but he liked how thoroughly it made her his. She was in his bed waiting for him and had let him do all sorts of things with her in that bed a few times now.

But anything like that would have to wait for when he no longer smelled like he'd been lying on the floor of a tavern after wallowing with feral hogs.

He went to the bathroom and took out paperwork from his back pocket. Aarti had given it to him for homework. It was only a little bit creased thanks to some spells he'd thought to do on it before his shift began.

As the water heated up, he thumbed through the packet reading snippets of it.

Post Trauma reactions that lead to PTSD [… ] Emotions of anger, fright, horror, shame and/or sadness can lead to thoughts and beliefs that become reinforced 'stuck points' […] The above turns into a cycle that leads to actions of escape and avoidance […] For your first assignment please write at least one page on why you think this traumatic event occured. You are not being asked to write specifics about the traumatic event, but—

Ron put the packet on the counter with a slam. The steam was starting to make it hard to read the print anyway.

He peeled his stiff jeans from his legs, before stepping into the shower to scrub beer, sweat and mud from himself. Once he smelled like himself again, he wrapped himself in a towel and headed to bed.

The sound of the rain grew louder as he got nearer to his room, and a symphony of rain noises greeted him when he opened the door. There was no Harry in sight. Hermione was dozing in his expanded bed,

His room was in neat order and his Auror packet was proudly displayed on his bedside table, propped against the wall so the logo was faced out. He quietly put Aarti's paperwork into his bedside drawers then changed in the corner, making sure to turn his more indecent bits towards the wall in case Hermione woke up. No matter how intimate they might have gotten the past weeks, he doubted she wanted to get an eyeful of anything flaccid or wrinkled.

Finally changed, he approached the bed.

He'd put their fight aside in his mind throughout his shift. Sure he'd been a moody bugger about it, but he hadn't dared to think about the actual words that had passed between them. He'd felt rather good at the end of their make-up, but that seemed to wear thin as he stood in front of the bed.

"Hermione?"

She gently stirred, barely opening her eyes before shifting and leaving a broad expanse of bed.

"I know it's late, but… Do we… Do we need to talk some more about… things?" he asked.

She opened her mouth then hesitated before shaking her head. Her not wanting to talk things to death was both a relief and a worry. He was frankly exhausted of talking between his therapy session, conversation with Percy, and the fight with Hermione. But it was incredibly uncharacteristic of her to turn down a play by play… Surely there was more to it they should hash out? Or not… He didn't know. They'd both apologised, so he supposed there wasn't much use in talking it to death. They'd not been a couple long. Is that what proper couples did? Have a row, apologise, then let it go?

He let out a sigh before reaching over to turn out the light. "But we're good, yeah?"

Hermione took his hand in her much smaller fingers and pulled him into the bed beside her.

Her hand abandoned his then quickly caressed the side of his face. She bit her lip as her eyes travelled over his face before she gently kissed his forehead, his eyelids, then his nose, finally ending at his mouth. The final kiss was chaste, but warm and gentle, ending too soon.

She gave him a warm sleepy little smile before patting his chest and rolling over.

"Guess I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled.

She gave a blind squeeze to his hand behind her before she settled in, curling up and cuddling the blanket around her ears like a tightly rolled hedgehog.

In minutes he could see her breathing become steady, but the rain was so loud he couldn't hear her.

Sleep didn't come as easily to Ron as it had Hermione.

Now that he was in bed and unoccupied, the fight kept netting him. It had been brutal. He couldn't remember everything that was said in the blindingly paced fight. The parts he could remember, though, stood out sharply and sawed away at him.

Which was ridiculous. It was just a fight. They'd had plenty of those over the years. And she'd apologised for the first time after a fight since third year— that had to count for some sort of minor miracle. He should be over the top happy and contentedly spooning his girlfriend lulled by the storm.

He couldn't.

He sat up and went to wrap his arms around his knees when his shoulder gave a nasty twinge that almost made him cry out. The stupid left arm's muscles twitched and his hand spasmed. Normally he'd hit it a few times to will the muscles to get under control, but he didn't want to disturb Hermione's sleep. He settled for cradling the hand and rubbing it before working his fingers all the way up to his aching scar.

As he thrust his thumb deep into the muscle between his shoulder and neck, words came to the forefront of his mind.

Little holiday.

He gave a hiss. He wasn't sure if it was from the pain as he massaged or the thought.

Their make-up was a bit of a mush of words too as he tried to remember it. In her apology she'd mostly concentrated on why she didn't want him to be an Auror, but nothing had been said about his time away… What could she say? What could he?

He could do a million things right, but he wasn't sure he could ever really make up for leaving her and Harry. He didn't like her acting like he'd been on holiday during their time apart, but didn't he deserve that? She didn't know any of what had happened. Even if she did, when it was time to really test his mettle he'd cracked and crumbled— and no Horcrux could really be blamed for his… What had Aarti called it? 'Pattern of negative self-talk.'

He'd had a pattern of it his whole life. The Horcrux wasn't making up random thoughts— all it did was enhance what he'd already thought and twisted it to its worst iteration. If he hadn't given the Horcrux so many negative thoughts to feast on, he wouldn't have been so affected. Well, that wasn't quite it… He wasn't passing out from Dementors… Harry had to have a myriad of horrid Dursley memories and Sirius's death and Dumbledore's and his parents' and Cedric's to dwell on— but he hadn't been broken by the locket. Perhaps it was because Ron had so many meaty insecurities. Harry was quite secure in himself, somehow, and hadn't ever abandoned them. He wasn't some jealous git who'd let a little hunk of metal turn his brains to mush.

'Aaaand you're doing it again,' he thought to himself, chagrined.

He supposed the one thing he'd learned from all the Mind Healing was that it was no good poking at old memories alone without purpose. With no one or nothing about to keep him distracted from his more self-loathing tendencies all it did was make him miserable. This knowledge didn't do him much good when darker thoughts haunted him as he sat up at night. They did nothing when he had the occasional nightmare.

Ron needed something to do.

He looked at his bedside drawer. Inside were his papers to fill out for Aarti. He carefully slid from the bed and took the papers, along with ink and quill, to the kitchen and reread the instructions.

Please write at least one page on why you think this traumatic event occured.

Thoughts already bleeding into the forefront of his mind, he wrote.

—-

Ron woke to Hermione crawling up from the bottom of his bed. Their bed. The corner of his mouth twitched up. Having her cuddled up beside him, even with her elbow poking painfully into his ribs and her hair making its way into his mouth a few times, had made everything feel a touch more settled after the blazing row they'd had the day before.

The tinges of early morning shone behind his curtain, its colour cool and grey, telling him it was still early.

"You going back to sleep?" Ron asked in a hushed tone.

"I guess I shouldn't," she said with a yawn. "With you going into the Aurors we need to spend as much time together as we can before school starts."

"I'd like that." He put an arm around her and squeezed. Her arm felt so thin and fragile he paused. Being so busy the past week he hadn't been able to encourage her at meals. "Harry's off to his Duelling C.R.E. today. How about we make some breakfast together, then maybe you can quiz me on spells."

"Alright," she said with a small smile, before she rolled over and curled up to him, her head nuzzling into his chest. She always loved a good study session. "But let's stay in here a little longer."

"Long as you like," he replied, adjusting himself to accommodate her elbow again. "Your spell on the bed held up."

"Mm-hm," she hummed. "I was rather distracted last time, but I think I know the trick of it now."

"And what's that?" he asked, gazing down at her.

"Not to transfigure when I've just been flirted with by you!"

"I'm that distracting?" he grinned at her.

"Don't act cocky," she said primly, pursing her full lips and thrusting her nose up like the adorable swot she was. Her eyes flashing in annoyance always did him in, because damn she was pretty when he provoked. She'd squint those eyes and take every ounce of her considerable passion and focus them on him. Sure, if she was on a rampage it'd make his balls curl up and run for cover like a pair of skittish rabbits, but he'd found no matter how angry she was, or how many spells she'd throw his way, it was quite worth it. In a way it made him feel invincible. Every other person would shrivel and burn up or flee for the hills when Hermione lit up, but he could get closer than anyone and bask in her warmth and fire.

"I'm not cocky," he insisted. "And even if I was, what's so bad about that? I should be cocky if I can turn the head of the ever brilliant Hermione Granger."

Her fiery expression inexplicably began to crumble. "I'm not."

"You're joking!" Ron let out. "You got eleven O.W.L.s!"

Her rapidly deflating posture curled inward and she had somehow transformed back into a wane slip of a thing that so little resembled the Hermione he knew it physically hurt him. "That was two years ago. I haven't done much since then."

"Your grades in sixth year and the amount of crazy advanced spells you managed last year say otherwise."

"Hm." She sounded unconvinced somehow.

He crooked his head down and pressed a kiss atop her forehead, curious to see her even remotely insecure in her intelligence. "C'mon, you gotta know you're smart."

"I do know that," she said, finger ghosting along his chest. Her eyes stayed downturned as she grazed her fingers back across the bit of chest hair that had begun to sprout over the last year. "It's just… I'm beginning to understand how little I really do know… And how I don't put the pieces of things together well enough… And how utterly lost I feel on how to tackle everything."

"Everything, hmm?" he said, looking at her downcast eyes and thick eyelashes.

"Yes," she sighed, brows furrowing with worry.

"How 'bout breakfast? How are we gonna tackle that?"

"What?" Her body stiffened against his.

"Break it down for me. How are we going to make breakfast?"

"Oh, making it," she said, body narrowly loosening again. Was she really that tense about him scrutinising what she ate? He wasn't sure, but it broke his heart thinking that the very idea of talking out eating made her react this way. She stayed silent.

"So Harry'll need something before his C.R.E.," Ron noted. Perhaps if he could redirect the food talk to being about other people instead of anything close to the topic of her eating she wouldn't feel so pressured. She loved doing things for other people. "Plus I need to carb-load before tomorrow's exam. Who knows what they have in store."

As predicted Hermione perked up at the thought of helping Harry.

"Harry usually only eats a bit of toast before games, so he might not want all the other breakfast things."

"Yeah, but he needs the protein so we should at least have eggs."

"If you cook the eggs, I'll cut up the bread to toast it," said Hermione.

"And we have some sausages I can cook up," he said, giving her a squeeze. "And while I do that you can pretty up the plates a bit."

She snorted. "I'm sure that will aid with digestion."

"Course it will! People eat with their eyes," he assured her. "Ready to make breakfast?"

She nodded in agreement, so the two of them rolled from bed to get dressed. Ever the planner, she had the foresight to bring a change of clothes to his bedroom.

As he wriggled into a pair of jeans he caught her in the mirror staring at his back the same way she studied a new tome from Ancient Runes.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, flusteredly looking away.

"Were you ogling my backside?" he asked, standing a bit taller, a playful grin on his face.

"No," she declared, flushing and straightening the sheets behind her with more sharp tugs than necessary.

"I wouldn't mind if you were, Miss perv," he teased.

She almost smiled then looked at his back some more and her face turned to worry. "You have bruises on your back."

"Oh," he said, posture slumping as he looked at them in the mirror over his shoulder. Sure enough, he had a series of bruises skittering across his ribs. "Yeah, I got my arse kicked around a lot with the exam."

"I think I saw some bruise removal paste in your drawer. I can put it on for you," she said, quickly moving to his bedside table. "Mind if I take a closer look?"

At one point in his life the thought of Hermione Granger wanting to rub his bare back would have elated him.

But now, seeing her curious stare, a loathsome shame welled in him. He wanted to run for it. It felt like a raw burn when someone grazed his back. Each time irrational fear would close in on him and he'd feel the press of bark into his cheek and the smell of that man, and the sound of his own screams…

Ron shook his head.

He didn't want her getting close to those memories. The stain would never come off.

"Ron?"

He should tell her no… But then she'd push… And he'd have to come up with a reason for being stubborn. Then it would become a point she'd bring up in front of people at breakfast and then he'd have multiple people moving in, perhaps wanting to touch him in comfort and… It was probably better to just get it over with now.

Unable to think of a valid excuse, he nodded his consent and grit his teeth together in anticipation.

She inspected him like she would any book she picked up; hands carefully traced along him like the edges of a book embossment.

Besides scrunched up eyes and a tightly held breath, he managed to keep himself from outwardly reacting.

Her cold hands stroked down his back, back and forth, gently rubbing the salve into his bruised back. He grit his teeth hard enough his jaw gave a small pop.

How could something so innocuous and loving feel like fucking torture?

"All done?" he gritted out.

"Almost. Just want to check for other injuries," she said. Her hands grazed much of his back outside the bruises and it took every bit of his willpower not to wrench himself from her.

"Looking good back there?" he insisted.

"Yes… Just freckles and bruises," she replied, sounding very much like she had when she tried to make sense of her copy of Beedle the Bard; confused, frustrated, and almost disappointed? That was odd. "You're all healed."

As he put on a t-shirt, he saw she was watching him again in the mirror, studying his back before hastily looking away, her expressive eyebrows pulled together.

"I'll make some tea at breakfast," she said. The tone sounded light, but her expression looked worried and dour.

"Perfect," he replied in just as light a tone. He wouldn't be surprised if his expression was a mask of worry too.

They went downstairs in silence. Ron grimaced as he passed Ginny's door, earning him a playful swat from Hermione.

"Be nice."

"I'm always nice!" he protested.

"You've got to stop making faces every time they do anything coupley."

"It's an instinctual response! I can't help that they're disgusting."

"They are not disgusting," she lectured. "Besides, you were pushing for them to be together all the way in 5th year!"

"Yeah, because I'd rather Harry be my brother than some other sod. Doesn't make it less gag inducing. They need to keep it behind closed doors."

"They literally are behind a closed door! And you're still making faces!"

They squabbled the rest of the way to the kitchen, which was a wonderful reset. A good squabble could set anything right.

Ron took charge in the kitchen, leading them through his somewhat practised breakfast cooking routine while she set to work cutting some crusty bread.

They cooked beside one another in an easy rhythm. Without a Horcrux around to egg them into distemper, they made quite a good team in the kitchen. Over the summer Ron had found cooking to be something he wasn't too bad at. He also had a knack for picking out good extra bits to put with the meal— in today's case some jarred calabrian chiles his mum used in her meat pies. Hermione was good at the little touches to make a meal look nicer, like making sure the serving plates somewhat matched or little sprigs of green herbs to make it look fancy. She also made an okay pot of tea.

By the time the house had all awoken and come downstairs the fare looked rather appetising.

"You cooked again?" asked Ginny, making a face.

"Sorry if it's not to your standard," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"It's not that! Just, weren't you out pretty late yesterday? You have tests and—"

"S'fine, Ginny," he replied, happy to pile his eggs and toast high, running the crusty bread through the perfectly runny yolk.

Mum and Dad asked him and Harry quite a lot about Auror stuff. Ginny was putting too much calabrian chiles on her eggs, while Harry wasn't eating all that much.

Despite Harry's great amount of skill he looked nervous. That was one thing Ron could appreciate about his best friend— he might be 'The Chosen One' and be seen as some Defence genius, world hero, and Quidditch star, but he'd still be nervous before tests, speeches and Quidditch games.

Hermione was eating even less than Harry. She'd spent a good part of the meal carefully buttering her toast, spooning out a touch of chiles to try, cutting up her eggs, and generally doing everything one does in a meal except eat.

"Have you tried it with chiles yet?" Ron asked her. She quickly forked some onto her eggs.

"No, not yet."

He bit back a 'they go onto your fork then into your mouth!'

"They're good," Ginny said, giving a sharp inhale through her nose to keep it from running.

"Not when you burn out your tongue with too many," he replied.

Ginny scowled and scooped a tablespoon full onto her toast and ate them with a dramatised 'mmmmmmmmm' before coughing and sending some flying onto the tablecloth, leaving an oily orange red stain.

"Ginny! Must you?" Mum cried out.

"I must," she said under her breath to Harry who bit back a laugh.

Mum waved her wand but the stain didn't fully remove itself. "Drat! Ginny, get the St. Hunna's stain remover."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but quickly complied.

"This is quite good, you two," Dad said, holding up one of the crusty pieces of toast.

Ron gave his thanks, but Hermione was staring at the stained cloth, eyes wide. He gave her side a small tap with his elbow.

"Huh?" she asked, blinking.

"Dad said he liked the food," he said quietly.

"Oh! Thank you Mr Weasley, but it was basically all Ron."

Hermione still hadn't eaten any of it. She'd always been a somewhat persnickety eater— avoiding sweets, being particular about just how many scoops of things went onto her oatmeal, never eating past seven— nothing very extreme, but Ron had never had the luxury to be picky so it was strange to him. Now though, no food seemed to entice her to eat enough.

She had a few forkfuls of egg and nibbled at her toast enough that it looked like she'd properly eaten… but she hadn't. He was the only one to see it, of course. It felt like no one ever noticed when Hermione was acting off.

It was like their Third Year. She was scattered, disappearing and tired all the time, getting more emotionally erratic, skipping meals and missing classes— but no one beside him really noticed until she finally stormed out of Trewlawney's class and slapped Malfoy (still a Patronus-worthy memory).

She was in much the same state now as then— but there was no time turner. Ron wasn't sure what he could do to fix it besides wait for Percy to give him news of Australia and watch her every meal.

"We'll clean up, since you cooked," Harry said, starting to pick up plates alongside Ginny, who was scrubbing at the stain. Reaching for Hermione's plate he asked, "You finished?"

"Yes," she replied with a polite smile.

Ron waved Harry away from his own plate, wanting to eat a bit more, and hoping later he could wheedle Hermione into eating one of his toasts later.

As Harry and Ginny cleaned, an owl arrived with a package and Dad excitedly put his hands together. "Ah! I'd hoped it'd get here!"

"What is it?" Mrs Weasley asked, looking at the package with a dubious stare. Ron couldn't blame her— half the time a package would come it'd be some bit of Muggle detritus a friend had found and sent his father's way.

"It's something for Ron and Harry," he said, a wide smile creasing his eyes.

Interest piqued, the boys came near as he undid the brown paper packaging and revealed a set of books.

"You didn't!" Ron let out, immediately recognizing them.

"What?" Harry asked, adjusting his glasses.

"They're books to help us with our C.R.E.s," Ron said, immediately reaching for the plum covered book titled 'A Recruit's Roadmap - Volume 1- Dynamic Duelling.' It was more worn than Ramona Higgins's copy, but looked to be the same version. "How'd you know about them?"

"I asked a few Aurors I knew about what we could do to help you out and they recommended it. Proudfoot said he'd send along his copies to borrow since it isn't easy to find in shops."

"Brilliant! Thanks, Dad!" said Ron, before handing the first volume to Harry. "You'll need this one for today. I can help you study."

Ron grabbed the second volume, 'Tactics and Manoeuvres' and thumbed through it. There were flying and battle stratagems of all sorts to pour over.

He expected Hermione to be staring at the books, but instead she raptly stared at the brown paper abandoned on the table.

"Here, have a look," he said, scooting close to Hermione and shoving the book her way. She blinked as if to clear her thoughts, but it only took a moment before she was intensely reading the tome and flipping between pages, looking much more herself. "I figure you and I can glean the good bits while he's gone and we'll catch Harry up this afternoon when he gets back."

"He could do the flying drills with you, and I can catch him up on what he missed after," she said, showing a page with various applications of flying skills for defence and offence. "This could be easy enough to set up with a bit of transfiguration. And there was a spell to make a dummy that fires low level spells to practise with as well."

"I like it! Maybe we can go and practice duels with him for a bit?" he asked, putting a hand round her shoulder as she excitedly came up with different ways to test their skills. Hermione's eyes were bright as she found a new passage to babble about, Harry was intensely reading and mostly ignoring them, while Ron was just happy to be swept up in between his two friends spending time with them, studying be damned. It was like before the war. It hadn't been like this for almost a year.

"Hogwarts all over again," Ginny said with a shake of her head, seeming to read Ron's thoughts. Harry's mouth turned up a bit.

"Oh, there's a letter stuffed in here," said Hermione, handing it to Dad.

All were quietly reading when Dad let out a small gasp that turned everyone's heads to him.

"What is it?" Mum asked, voice tremulous.

Dad put a hand out to allay her fears and smiled. "Good news!"

He read a moment longer then raised his glass of pumpkin juice.

"Congratulations to Ron for acing his first exam!" He toasted, shortly followed by Mum loudly exclaiming, "You didn't tell us you'd passed! Oh, Ronnie!"

She immediately clutched onto him with a strangling hug at his side. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Well done!" Dad said with a clap on his other side.

"Mum gerroff!" Ron mumbled into his mother, though he couldn't deny he was chuffed to have this moment celebrated by them. It was the first time that was truly just his to celebrate since his birthdays before Hogwarts. "I didn't ace it. I barely—"

"Proudfoot said Auror Musaad was going on about it and called it 'the most innovative duelling he's seen from a recruit in over a decade,'" his father read to the room.

"I knew you'd nailed it!" Harry said, looking smug.

Ron's whole face had to be the colour of one of his maroon jumpers, it was burning so fiercely.

"Are we sure he meant Ron?" Ginny teased, receiving glares from both their parents and raised eyebrows from Harry. She leaned in and in a low voice said, "but, well done!"

"It's only the first exam. There are two others and a final interview thing, so please don't think it's all in the bag or anything."

"Oh tosh!" his mother said.

After some more congrats, Mum had the letter read out in its entirety. Ron's ears burned so red he was surprised they didn't start to sizzle like bacon. He was so unused to this sort of attention it made him feel sick. He'd done one exam, yes, but there was no guarantee of anything. If anything this just made the pressure worse.

"Let's get you ready for your test, Harry," said Ron, wanting to leave the table.

Hermione quickly grabbed the first volume to help when Ginny asked "Are you both going to help Harry?"

"Yes?" Ron dubiously asked upon seeing her furrowed eyebrows.

"Don't you need to prepare for your own exam?"

"Well, yeah, but Harry hasn't done the first, and—"

"And you did it without a book. He has one. I can quiz him if he needs the help, but… I don't think you need to sacrifice your own revising time, Ron."

There was an uncomfortable moment as the trio looked at one another. It had always been Ron and Hermione helping Harry.

"It's alright," said Harry. "You should look after yourself this morning. I can catch up later. Plus Strategy will be your best subject, I bet."

Uncertainty gnawed at Ron. Perhaps Ginny's interference came from wanting to spend alone time with her boyfriend. Or perhaps she thought her fool brother needed extra time and help… Either way, it made him feel uneasy. It felt like going to the Prefect's carriage for the first time or Hogsmeade— he didn't like leaving Harry behind.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

He could tell when Harry lied. It wasn't hard, as he was a fucking bad liar. Ron wouldn't necessarily know what the truth was, as Harry was excellent at shutting down— but he hadn't been fooled more than a time or two in all their acquaintance. Harry had dozens of tells, from becoming very still, to that wooden grimace he thought was a smile, to the way he'd give too little or too much eye contact.

"Course," said Harry with a perfunctory smile, before flipping through the book; it hadn't been his grimace-smile though. He wasn't standing stock still like a deer caught in wand-light; he was actually looking through his book and not pretending to read.

Permission given to cadge off, Ron grabbed some toast and turned to study with Hermione at the kitchen table. Ginny led Harry to the living room to do last minute cramming for his duelling exam.

"Are you sure he's okay?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I think so. He didn't do any of his tells."

"I don't know how you're always so certain!" she fretted. "It feels like Third Year's Hogsmeade again…"

"I was thinking the same thing," he said, hand playing with some of the curls on her shoulder before returning them to his book. "But back then, he was left alone in a castle while we were off having fun. Here he's with his girlfriend and we're studying different subjects, so… I mean he'll have to get used to things like this…"

"We'll have to get used to it too," she nodded. "Eventually we won't all live together, we'll have separate lives… We can't very well have Harry going on all our dates and living with us 24/7."

"Poor man can come visit our place when he gets lonely," Ron snorted.

"Our place?" Hermione asked. Ron's fingers pressed into the cover of the book so hard its spine gave a small squeak.

"Yeah, our place," he said, hoping he sounded casual and not like his heart had begun to nervously vibrate. "You know… If you'd like to do that with me."

"When?" she asked, giving a discerning eye.

"I dunno…" He roughly swallowed. "Maybe after you've finished Hogwarts?"

She nodded before— thank Merlin — smiling. "Yes… I think that would work well. You and Harry can flatmate while I'm at Hogwarts, then when I graduate you and I could get a little flat?"

"I could go for a little flat," he said, compelled to sit closer to her. "Course it'd be stuffed to the walls with your books."

"And your orange Cannons paraphernalia!" she laughed with a giddy smile.

"Of course! Only the finest for you!" Ron declared. "London? Somewhere else?"

"Maybe near my parents so they could visit easily?" It took a moment before either realised she'd brought up her parents, but quickly Hermione's smile began to fade. "If they'd want to."

"They'll want to," he assured her, taking her much smaller hand in his own. "The Cannons paraphernalia alone would draw them right in."

She gave a small smile at his lame joke, but kept her eyes trained on her lap.

"I like speculating about having a place with you," he said, rubbing his thumb against the top of her hand.

She gave the tiniest squeeze to his hand in return.

"Just imagine, no one to interrupt us," he whispered.

"Making it our own…"

"Getting to kiss you anywhere I like and not worry about being caught," he said leaning in to catch her lips in a small peck. "Having you all to myself."

"Mmm, yes that sounds very pleasant," she murmured back, about to kiss his lips again when the flames in the hearth suddenly flared and turned green. Moments later Kingsley stepped through, long purple robes fanning behind him.

Ron stood up so fast from the table he felt a small wave of dizziness. "Everything alright? Is it George?"

Guilt flared in him. He hadn't bothered to ask about him since the club incident, but George hadn't bothered to apologise… He could be the bigger man, but frankly he didn't want to. Now he wasn't sure he'd make the same decision.

"Nothing wrong that I've heard of," said Kingsley, spelling off the ash in his shoulders. "Congratulations on your first C.R.E., by the way. There's quite a lot of buzz around it in the Auror offices."

Ron's face blazed.

"I'm here to escort Harry to his first test to avoid a scene. Now that he was spotted the other day the press has been looking for him, camped out all over the Ministry."

"Oh he'll love that," Ron chuckled. "I'll get him."

He fetched Harry and Kingsley explained how they would enter the Ministry.

"I won't be able to do this tomorrow, though. You'll have to use the guest entrance," Kingsley explained. A pale-faced Harry followed him to the fireplace.

"You got this," said Ginny.

"The test or the press?" Harry mumbled.

"Both, I imagine." Then she kissed him. Ron caught Hermione's eye and pointed a finger at the couple, his most faux-outraged glare firmly set in place, making Hermione bite her lip to stop from laughing.

"See you on the other side," said Harry to the group before following Kingsley to the Ministry. Ginny watched the flames sputter out with a frown on her face.

"Here's your book back," she said. As she returned the volume to Ron she took his hand in hers, something she hadn't done much of since she became a teen. "Look, I know you're used to always backing Harry up… but going into the Aurors isn't like all the other times where it was about Harry versus Triwizard Tournament Tasks or Harry versus Tom… You and he are on equal footing now."

"Okay?"

"You need to look after yourself."

"What, do you want me to abandon him?" Ron shook off her oddly firm grasp. "I'd think you'd want me looking after him— he's your boyfriend after all."

"I didn't say abandon him!" She crossed her arms looking every bit the brat sister. "Just make sure you revise too, okay? You've been doing a lot around here."

"I literally have the book in my hand!"

"Urgh! Forget it!" she said as she stalked outside muttering about going for a fly.

Content to ignore his sister, Ron began revising with Hermione, a task which gave him an immediate triumph. Distracted by books she was much easier to ply with food; he got her to eat a slice and a half of toast as they took notes.

Studying with Hermione also meant he got to indulge in a favourite hobby; Hermione-watching. It had become a cherished pastime long before he knew of his feelings for her. He could spend hours watching her expressive eyes dance between emotions as she studied. For some Hermione-watching might be a distraction from learning, but he'd found it dead useful a few times.

The Extinguishing Charm was branded in his mind because that was the day Hermione had worn her hair up, which she rarely did. The room had to have many flames for students to extinguish and she transfigured a quill into a hair tie, revealing her slender neck. A tiny curl, wet with perspiration, clung to her neck in a pattern eerily similar to the one he had to do with the spell itself. Each time he just thought back to that little ringlet and the spell would work perfectly.

He remembered the difference between bombilla and bombulum quite well from Hermione's reaction in the D.A. Neville mixed the humming hex with the farting hex, bombulum. Sure, that was memorable in its own rite- but seeing Hermione, who usually scoffed at 'bathroom humour,' with tears in her eyes as she tried and failed to hold back laughter? Seeing her shoulders shake at the high pitched flatulence issuing from Terry Boot branded it in his mind.

The adhesive spell Epoximise stayed put because she'd used it to keep a bra strap in place. The summer before Fifth Year, as they cleaned and sprayed the different rooms of Grimmauld Place, her bra strap fell down multiple times. As it fell a fourth time she grumpily mumbled the 'Epoximise', despite being underage. Her breaking rules to do a spell was one thing, but her doing it on a bra was another tier altogether. He had never thought of Hermione's bra before this or the fact that Hermione needed to wear a bra. He also had not daydreamed what she would look like without a bra… or without clothes… or without clothes on his bed—but he thought about ALL those things with far too much regularity afterwards. Epoximise was adhered to his memory quite well after that.

This Auror study session he'd already found several ways to recall spells and tactics — ways he would never divulge to a soul. Maybe someday he'd reveal it to Hermione when they were married with kids and it'd be too late for her to toss him off for someone less weird and perverted.

Hermione-watching was far from the only way he remembered things when studying with her, of course. That would be a bit mental if it was the only way he recalled spells!

There were the traditional advantages of working with her; improved productivity and focus, gained insights, translations of some of the denser texts, and the company of someone in it with him made it much more enjoyable to study. That the someone was Hermione made studying all out enjoyable.

That afternoon they set up a course in the field similar to the training Aurors went through, according to their manuals. Hermione was able to create a training dummy like the one in the book. The dummy fired benign curses for Ron to avoid as he ran drills. Ginny joined them and hurled less than benign curses his way as she flew impressively tight circles about the pitch.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he squawked as a curse whizzed past him and set a part of the field on fire.

"I'm just making sure you're prepared!" she smiled back.

Later Harry arrived. To the surprise of no one, he passed his Duelling C.R.E. Ron didn't bother celebrating beyond a quick 'well done!' and a clap on the shoulder as Harry was more eager to practice for the second exam than bask in a victory. They did drills well into the night, just in case they were tasked with combat in the dark. By the time they were finished and showered Ron felt unsteady on his feet and his left arm ached. He swore his arse would be a giant blister the next day; it was a long time to be on a broom after taking a year off from any meaningful broom riding.. They ended up studying in Ron's room as the adrenaline left their systems, and Ron did his best to not give away how frissons of pain were making him feel nauseous.

"So the captionem deprehensio spell can be used to find a variety of traps and reveal their origins… That could be handy," said Hermione, writing the spell down into her notes.

He leaned towards the book and practised the movements. There was a momentary pulse of white-blue light that flickered across the room before he could blink.

"Did I do it right?"

"I guess we can't know unless there are traps set up. If it's the spell I'm thinking of, I believe it should have a sort of web-like pattern that will light up when there are threats. In this case the pattern surveyed the space and shut down before it could detect anything. Colours can stand for different types of traps."

Ron grinned at her. "I swear you know about every spell there is!"

"I don't."

"Who else would know that about some obscure booby trap spell? The details of what it looked like were not in the book!"

"Fleur and Bill would, as curse breakers."

"Fine, but I still am dating the most brilliant woman in England," he said, leaning close to kiss her cheek and beaming when he saw her cheeks flush. She looked over to Ginny and Harry, who frankly he had forgotten about. Despite his tiredness he was certain he could spend another few hours that night snogging Hermione.

"We should go to bed. You both have a big day tomorrow," Hermione prompted, turning Ron's wrist to see the time in his watch. He winced at the sudden awkward move of it.

"So… Where are we planning on sleeping?" Ginny asked Harry. Harry looked to Ron, and Ron looked to Hermione.

As much as he wanted the room for himself and Hermione, he wasn't about to act as if he had a say in the matter with Harry and Ginny. The moment Ginny got a whiff of him 'giving permission' all peace would evaporate.

"We should sleep in the places your mother expects so everyone actually sleeps," Hermione said, standing up from the bed. When no one moved she gave a huff and pulled Ron down for a quick kiss on the lips, before turning for the door. "Sleep well you two."

Ginny kissed Harry and slowly followed Hermione out the door, looking agitated.

As soon as Ron heard the muffled sound of Ginny's door closing he turned to Harry.

"Mate… You gotta not look at me when it's about you and Ginny."

"But she's your—"

"Deadly little sister who will hex my asshole shut if she thinks I'm trying to make decisions about you two." Harry gave a fond look towards the door. Disgusting. Ron shook his head. "Hermione's right. We need some sleep. I'll set a clock early so we have plenty of time to eat and study a bit, yeah?"

Harry nodded and reached for a Dreamless Sleep bottle.

"Wait—" Ron called out. His friend froze, hand stretched in mid-air. "You need to take cold medicine. You took Dreamless Sleep four nights already, remember?"

His friend looked longingly at the deep blue bottle, but opened his drawer and fished around until he found the medicine.

As Ron changed he heard Harry give a sigh before slowly saying, "maybe you should take some Dreamless Sleep tonight, Ron."

Ron's movements ceased. "I don't need it."

Harry sat up a little straighter and steepled his fingers. Christ, he was going to try and 'be a good friend' again. "You've been doing a lot, and have not been sleeping well…"

"How would you know? You're passed out on potion every night," Ron quickly deflected, feeling a bit guilty for his harsh phrasing.

Harry's brows furrowed and he gave a sharp look that most people would scramble from.

"You've been overdoing it," Harry continued, surprisingly not taking the bait Ron had laid. "We've all noticed you're not sleeping much, and we've been worried."

"Oh, well if we all noticed. You and Ginny can stop talking about me any time, because I'm fine" Ron protested, feeling his ears begin to redden. Stupid fucking ginger complexion.

"You're not," Harry firmly, but quietly, stated.

The wildest urge to cry unexpectedly poked at Ron. He quickly squelched it with a sharp inhale through his nose.

"Look, I get that you don't have Voldemort to chase around anymore so you're bored or something, but you can stop with the whole concerned act you've been doing every other night"

Harry's brows shot up into his fringe.

"Act? Ron—"

"You've never given a shit before, so why start now?"

"Because you're obviously—"

"Obviously what?"

"You're being an idiot!"

"Oh yeah, that's me, Ron the fucking idiot," he growled. He forcefully gave a fluff to his pillow that looked more like a punch and laid down with his back to Harry. "Take your medicine, Harry."

He listened until he heard the telltale pop of the cork from the bottle and the sound of Harry taking a sip. Within ten minutes Harry was asleep. Despite the bristling annoyance and worries roiling in Ron's stomach, the work of the day left him tired enough to drift off without leaving his room.

The next morning as the sun was just peaking its rays into his room, Ron woke Harry. At first he gave a perfunctory smile of thanks, but then Harry seemed to remember himself because his eyes fell and his expression closed. He gave Ron a wide berth as they dressed and ate. The two didn't speak a word all through breakfast as Mum and Dad carried a conversation about the Ministry's rebuild. Harry kept his gaze on 'A Recruits Roadmap- volume 2: Tactics and Manoeuvres,' though Ron caught a few surreptitious looks shot his way.

Tired of the tension, and knowing it wouldn't help them on their exam, Ron stood and motioned Harry to come with him outside. He followed, but had a watchful cautious look Ron had seen too many times before. He sat in one of the sun bleached chairs and Ron took the seat across from him.

"Sooo," Ron said, ruffling the back of his hair. "I'm sorry. I was an arse last night."

Harry's expression didn't change. "You need to sleep more."

"I know," Ron sighed, looking away. He scratched his chin and felt the rasp of unshaved stubble. "I have some things to work on… and I am working on them."

"How?"

"My counsellor Aarti, for one… it might be a bit, but eventually I'll be alright. It's been a hell of a…" Month? Year? "Time."

Harry let out a breath before a tiny understanding smile crept onto his face.

"Are you going to work on easing up on things?"

"Yeah. Soon… Really soon," said Ron, trying to convey his conviction. It must have worked, because Harry's shoulders eased.

"Why don't we quiz one another," said Harry, looking down at the book. "I can quiz you first, if you like."

"Yeah, alright."

As he was quizzed, Ron felt infinite relief he didn't need to do more to make things get back to normal. That was one of the best things about Harry; he didn't need a long conversation for things to be set right.

Their camaraderie was far more calming than Ron had given credit for leading up to the previous Auror shit. Knowing he wasn't in it alone made his guts squirm just a touch less.

They studied until it was time to head to the Ministry. Ron had hoped to see Hermione, but as usual she slept in.

They Flooed to the chilly halls of the Ministry and his ever present nerves about the exam grew in intensity. Heads turned and people whispered 'Potter' quite a few times as they walked down the hallways.

"C'mon, Harry," Ron said, hurrying their pace so less people would have time to register they'd seen The Chosen One. If they took their time they'd probably get mauled.

Ron had dreaded the comparisons between him and Harry by the Aurors, but seeing how Harry's fame worked again, he now doubted anyone would bother looking at him with Harry around. Anonymity was suddenly a very comfortable place to live.

The line for the security desk wasn't very long, and Robbie was there again, this time excitedly waving to Ron so hard he tipped over an inkwell. Ron had a feeling he would lose his shit when he realised The-Boy-Who-Lived had joined them.

"Mr Weasley, sir!" Robbie called, beaming. "Are you here for your exam?"

"Yeah. And you can still just call me Ron, Robbie."

"Yes sir, Mr Ron!"

Ron shot a glance at Harry who was grinning in obvious amusement.

Robbie weighed Ron's wand and gave a ticket to him before taking Harry's.

"Name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said very quietly.

"Oh! Yeah that makes sense! You two are best friends!" Robbie said with a smile getting the ticket and deftly handing it to Harry without a bit of fanfare. "Here you are, sir."

"Thanks, Robbie," said Ron. Robbie immediately blushed and jitteringly handed Harry his wand.

"No problem, Mr Ron, sir!" Robbie gave a weird little salute. Ron looked about to see if anyone else was witnessing this, or if he'd experienced some sort of delayed concussion. "And good luck on your exam, Mr Ron, sir!"

As soon as they turned down the hall for the elevator Harry began sniggering. "You have quite a fan!"

"I… It's… It's mental it is!" Ron's face flushed.

"I liked him," Harry said with a slap on Ron's shoulder. "I can't wait to tell Hermione about this."

"Stoooop," Ron groaned as they stepped into the elevator.

"Yes sir, Mister Ron, sir!" Harry said before bursting into laughter that didn't fully die until they reached the Auror floor.

They were taken back to the same locker room as before. Many of the same recruits he'd taken the first exam with were there.

Kevin Gunther gave Ron a friendly "Morning, Ron!" before going gobsmacked as he saw Harry. Ron gave him a nod, but in the corner of his eye he could see Harry starting to clam up, every part of his friend tensing. Harry had a highly practised dour forbidding expression forming. Harry could be the most sweet and disarming guy in the world, but most people saw this guy— The Chosen One, whose jaw was tensed and Killing Curse green eyes were shifting about for the closest exit.

Theold was looking at himself in the mirror, combing his blonde pompadour into place. The combing abruptly stopped as he saw Harry.

Ramona Higgins was reading her book and fervently ignoring them both.

"Morning Ramona," said Ron, trying his hand at being friendly.

She glared at him over her book before looking down again.

As they got to their lockers Harry muttered to him, "is she always like that?"

"With me she is… She'll probably do the same to you. She thinks we're being handed this… At least that's my working theory for why she's massively unpleasant," Ron said, pulling off his shirt to change. "The rest of them were okay."

He continued to describe each of the recruits' personalities and skills as they changed into their training uniforms, the same grey trousers and white gambeson jackets.

"What about you? What were yours like?"

A young woman with a soft expression and low dark buns around her ears gave Harry a small wave he returned.

"That's Claudia Li. She's good with defensive spells, and knows counter curses and charms very well. She is pretty good at dodging stuff with her wand, but she's not the most coordinated. She trips up a lot."

He then pointed to a guy close to their age and about Harry's height. He had a few scars down his cheek and was laughing at something Kevin had said.

"And that's Ellis Vyse- prefers to go by Vyse. He had some of the best offensive duelling I've seen in a while when it comes to fire power. Could be more accurate though. He can take a hit like it's nothing, and is pretty fast."

"Do they seem like they'd be okay to work with?"

Harry screwed up his face and thought before replying, "Yeah."

Ron rolled his eyes. Harry rarely had much to say on a person's personality unless it sucked. They seemed nice from the little he'd observed- Claudia Li was apologetic and sweet as she knocked over Ramona's books, while Vyse had a loud laugh and a bit of a manic energy that reminded him of Oliver Wood.

The room suddenly went silent. Ron looked around before spotting Auror Sealy-Pearce standing in the back doorway with her usual steady air of authority.

"Have any of you seen—" she began her announcement before the front door slammed open revealing Neville Longbottom, looking flushed. He was bruise free and had short hair again, but still sported a few healed scars on his face.

"Merlin, I get so lost in those halls and— oh! I'm not too late am I?" he asked, flushing pink.

"Just get dressed, Recruit. I'll send someone to lead you where we're going."

Neville nodded, looking a bit more like he did when McGonagall scolded him and less like the battle-sure Neville they'd met the prior month.

"Did you know Neville was going out for Auror?" Harry asked as they followed Sealy-Pearce down a few halls.

"No, but Kingsley had said he'd be asked. Makes sense after the whole Nagini thing."

After a few turns they reached Training Room 4.

As he stepped through the door Ron flinched as bright sunlight hit him in the eye. He looked around and felt his jaw slacken. They were outdoors in a giant sunny field with stadium seating much like that at the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. A breeze hit him that smelled of grass and cottonwood. It was a fantastic bit of magic that felt more real than any of the fake streets the Ministry created for their windows. The other recruits were equally in awe, even Ramona.

They were led to a red wooden broom shed, if he could call it that. It was made of such fine wood with elegant carving that it looked more like a house for the brooms. Inside were older Firebolt models, but each was crisply maintained and a rich mahogany colour. Ron found one of the few brooms with a scratch they'd not been able to buff out. Somehow that made it more comfortable to use. The broom he chose hummed at his touch, and he knew it'd be a good fit.

Neville arrived a few minutes later not looking too keen to choose a broom, but he did it all the same.

"You're going to fly through a few drills to show your flying skills for us to assess your agility, aim while flying, dodging skills and speed."

There were targets they had to hit as they weaved and bobbed around some dummies similar to the one Hermione had spelled together, only they were more numerous and shot spells more often. There were also obstacles for them to do quick turns around. The dummies fired off lacklustre spells and were easy to disable— hit with one spell they would pause for a good five seconds.

The drills were… underwhelming, in Ron's opinion. He flew hard and was near the top in the field for every drill they did. Harry was top in all but aim, where Ron outdid him and everyone else by a lot with his mid-flight spells. It was nice being the best at something, but after the duelling C.R.E this seemed very tame.

Ramona and Vyse were fast flyers and fell behind Ron and Harry in their skills only narrowly. Theold and Claudia were good dodgers of spells but just passable flyers. Kevin Gunther and Neville struggled with most of the flying drills. They were good at aiming and spells when they weren't moving, but the moment they moved it was clear they were not comfortable on a broom.

After an hour or so Sealy-Pearce blew a whistle and they all flew down to meet her. Neville and Kevin were the first to dismount. They were commanded to put their brooms into the shed, and quickly did so, Ron putting the nicked broom away with a small pang— it was a good broom.

As they walked back to Sealy-Pearce, Auror Musaad walked onto the pitch. Ron's shoulders tensed towards his ears.

"Shit," said Ron.

"What?" asked Harry.

"He's crazy. If he's here, things are about to go mad!" Ron muttered. The recruits gathered, and the tension quickly built.

"Now that we've had a good warm-up to observe your skills, we're going to see you in a more challenging scenario that truly tests your resilience," said Sealy-Pearce.

"In a moment a door will appear. On the other side you'll find a very different terrain and a very different threat. This will mimic battle-like conditions and the danger will be dampened, but real, on this simulated mission," Musaad said, holding out a parchment he unfolded to reveal a topographic map. There was a lake, surrounded by hills from what Ron could see. A very clear X and O were marked on the map, one near the lake, and one deep between the hills.

"In the north is an enemy base for you to capture," said Sealy-Pearce, pointing to the X on the map. "At this base is a flag- as soon as one of you captures the flag, the base is considered captured whether or not you've defeated all of the enemy."

"The enemy is entrenched behind hefty defences. There are brooms for all of you at your destination, but they won't be immediately available. You'll find them in a red shed a short way from your arrival point. Your jackets will protect you from any sort of critical damage. If you're hit or harmed in a way that would normally kill a person or incapacitate them, the vest will act as a port key, and you will be brought back here. That will be the end of this C.R.E. for you."

"You'll begin at this arrival point," said Mussaad, pointing to the O on the map. "From there you will make your way toward the enemy camp. The terrain has slopes leading up from the lake."

"There are two things to look out for along the way: one is the enemy emplacements all along the coast of the lake. There will be heavy spell-fire to avoid. The enemy will have much stronger spells than the ones you saw here— shield charms will only do so much."

"The second is booby traps. Tread and fly carefully. They have been lain all across the area leading up to the base. You should be able to see them and can use spells to detect them as well, but be careful. Accidentally triggering one will mean major spell damage. If you have the knowledge, you can dismantle them."

"Use your wits, act as a team, and use the varied strengths of the team to your advantage. We want to see your resilience, not just your flying skills."

Musaad waved his wand and a black door appeared.

"The second half of this C.R.E. begins now."

The Auror recruits all nervously shifted and exchanged glances. Harry and Ron locked eyes. Unspoken, they readied their wands and approached the door.

"Cover me?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded.

"And I'll be your back-up," Neville added. Ron put a hand to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze welcoming him to the fold.

"We'll see what's behind the door, then signal if it's safe for you to follow," said Harry to the rest of the group.

"Using what signal?" Ramona asked. "We don't have chosen signals for our team yet!"

"How bout the hand signals in Tactics," said Ron, before demonstrating the basic hand signals of Stop, Hold, Go, Come, Quiet and Look for the group. "That do?"

"It's rudimentary, but yes," she acquiesced.

"You need to have a plan that includes us," said Kevin. "We're all good at what we do."

Harry looked impatient, but Ron could see his point.

"Once we're in there, we'll be sure everyone gets utilised," said Ron.

There were a bevy of nods, except for Ramona who, of course, had a defiant tilt to her chin. Ron stood to his full height and shot her a look that dared her to speak.

"Who says you're in charge?" she asked, not the least bit intimidated.

"You know what, Ramona?" Ron began, before being interrupted by the small voice of Claudia.

"Why wouldn't they be?" she blushingly asked, before squeaking, "I mean… They took down You-Know-Who."

"Well," Ramona sneered, "it's not like they were quick about taking down He-Who-Must-Not—"

"Just say Voldemort. Fucksake," Theold said, mussing his bouffant. "Let's get this over with!"

"We could vote for who we follow," Kevin added as Vyse said, "I don't care who's in charge, let's just go!"

"Why should we follow them?" Ramona asked again, and the group burst into arguments. Harry's face was incrementally flushing as he glowered, showing all the signs of his infamous temper about to reach a crescendo. Ron's own temper was boiling, making him want to scream like a kettle.

"QUIET!" bellowed Neville, bringing everyone to attention. In a much more measured tone he continued. "The reason we're following them is they're good at what they do. They've proven it here and proven it for years out in the real world, which is more of a measure than any training test. So shut it. Harry's going in, Ron's covering him, I'm back up, and you all will follow and be ready to pitch in if shit goes down."

Even Ramona didn't dare break the silence that followed. Ron bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a 'that's right, fuck you Ramona!' Properly cowed, the group all looked to Harry.

"Okay," said Harry, levelly meeting their gazes. "Will you follow our leads?"

Each nodded their assent before waiting for Ramona. Frankly Ron was fine if she wanted to fuck right off into a booby trap. She gave a shrug.

"Does that mean you're in, Ramona?" Neville prodded.

"Yes," she said with a petulant roll of her eyes.

Ron couldn't help but mutter a sarcastic, "Oh good. We'd really mourn your loss."

Neville and Harry shot him a quelling look he shrugged off. He wasn't going to pretend they were chummy because she'd snidely given in to peer pressure.

"Right," said Harry, twisting his neck until it gave a small click. "Let's do this."

Ron squared his shoulders and stood firmly beside his friend, wand at the ready. He rubbed his thumb into the well-worn place, and felt the bulb of the handle resting deeper into his palm. He did a few swishes at his side to make sure his grip felt right.

The two friends' eyes met in understanding. Whatever was behind that door, they were ready to face it together.

Harry opened the door quickly, wand aimed ahead, and Ron was just behind him, wand at the ready.

It looked as if there was nothing but darkness ahead, and there was no sound but the small licking of the lake waters against the shore.

Not seeing or hearing anything, they pressed ahead onto the dark moon-lit lakeshore.

Author's Note: oOF bit of a cliffhanger! :P SORRY! Thank you so much to all of you who review- you have no idea how motivating it is. Y'all are the best. If you enjoyed this I hope you'll take the time to leave a comment. :) thanks!