GIANT THANK YOU TO ABRADYSTRIX for always being an amazing beta.
So! it's been a long time between updates, I know. I have been inordinately busy this year taking on a lot of responsibilities at work. I also had some big stuff happening in my personal life, including losing a very wanted pregnancy which was really difficult.
BUT GOOD NEWS! I'm now almost six months along with second pregnancy and all has been going well! I feel like crap a lot of the time, so that's been cutting down on my ability to write and do hobbies in general :P
So yeah- I have reasons for this taking forever.
Thank you to those of you who wrote such kind reviews, I truly appreciate it!
Previously in Waking Up:
Ron and Harry continues their Combat Readiness Exam. They went into the tunnels to hunt down the 'Squid'- a moving 'room' containing senior Aurors. They encounter a Boggart- one is Harry's- Ginny covered in blood and blaming him. It changes to Otho Crowthers- a Snatcher who attacked Ron. Their team confronts the Squid, and Harry and Ron and Ramona all fall into a Boggart Nest filled with Boggart dust. Intense hallucinations of fear overtake them all- but Harry is most dosed and goes feral attacking a fellow recruit before being pulled from the exam. Ron comes up with a plan to defeat the Squid and they finally are successful in drawing out the Aurors. Ron has a one-on-one with Mussad and comes out victorious. After the exam Ron has his final interview, which includes a rather intense conversation with senior Aurors and him realizing they dosed him with a truth serum. He basically leaves and tells them to stuff it, certain he can't become an Auror after that.
Chapter warnings: depression symptoms, cursing
CHAPTER 16: WAITING
Hermione sat, staring at the schedule she'd placed on her knees.
Monday June 15th, 7 PM
C.R.E. 3 - Battle Instinct
Training Room 2
Hard as she tried, it was impossible to sleep. It was one in the morning, but neither Ron nor Harry had returned from their third exam. Speculations bounced round about in her head, each more harrowing and fatalistic than the last.
Was it likely that they would be in the exam all night? The other exams hadn't been this long. Could the Ministry be under siege? Could Ron be injured again? Or Harry attacked by some Death Eater wanting revenge?
She clenched her hands and the schedule crumpled.
How would she be able to manage this if they became Aurors? Always on the outside, never able to know if they were well, not able to be by their side defending them.
She needed to be there! She couldn't sit on the sidelines waiting to hear news! It was maddening. It was torture!
It was so rare she was stuck on the outside. Every time she was, she had either Ron or Harry next to her, every bit as worried, just as ready as she was to jump in and save their friend. That, or she was neck deep in trouble with them.
Being nothing but a bystander made her feel utterly adrift.
"Hermione?" she heard a feminine voice murmur. Ginny had crept into Ron's room, and looked just as lost as Hermione felt.
"I can't sleep," Hermione told her.
"I know… I doubt I will either," said Ginny, sitting beside her and looking at the strangled and twisted schedule.
A realisation dawned on her, and she found herself looking at Ginny with a new understanding.
"How did you do it?" Hermione asked. "When we were hunting horcruxes… How did you manage to not go mad with worry?"
"Who says I didn't?" Ginny asked, giving a small humourless laugh. "I suppose it helped that I expected it. I knew the night Dumbledore died that Harry was going to go. And that you and Ron would follow."
"But… not knowing what was happening? Didn't it—?"
"The toughest part of being kept in the dark is the fury at everyone who puts you there," said Ginny, chin jutting forth. "If it wasn't mummy tombs in Egypt, or secrets about Sirius, it was Order meetings and Horcruxes."
Hermione had helped put Ginny in the dark many a time.
Unlike Ginny, she didn't feel fury at Ron and Harry. Perhaps it was because she was confident they'd tell her everything later. Ginny, she realised, did not have that luxury.
Hermione began her words cautiously, not sure how to say what she meant without it sounding like an excuse. "I can't promise there will never be secrets I need to keep."
Ginny was still as stone, staring out the window with a flat look on her face.
"But," Hermione continued, "I promise, I will make sure you're brought into the fold whenever I can."
The nod Ginny gave was almost imperceptible. The air around them felt wired with tension until Ginny finally relaxed her still position.
"Okay," she said, giving Hermione's arm a squeeze. "Don't look so afraid of me. I'm not all that mad at you. Or anyone in particular. I'm just… I'm just so angry at everything, really. I can feel it itching inside me each day. It's like every single thing is wrong."
Hermione understood that feeling. Clothes didn't fit right. Sleeping was impossible. Food tasted like cardboard. Relating to people felt like a children's game of telephone; by the time her brain had processed what was said and done around her, it felt meaningless and garbled.
" — don't you think?" asked Ginny.
"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione dimly asked, realising Ginny must have been talking a while.
"I said 'they'll be okay, don't you think?'"
"Oh yes," she quietly said, though she didn't believe that was true in the least. She wasn't sure how, but she could just feel wrongness in the air. She knew Ron was going to come to her hurt. She knew she'd see the signs of it all over both of her boys.
"You need to go to bed," said Ginny with a shake of her head. "Here, I brought a sleeping potion."
"I don't need that," Hermione quickly answered.
"Hermione, you're not well right now. You need sleep."
"I'm perfectly fine," she said firmly.
Ginny narrowed her brown eyes, then put the potion in Hermione's hand. She didn't let go until Hermione's fingers tentatively began to hold it.
"We both know that's a pile of dragon dung," she said with a snort. "We both need sleep. C'mon. The boys are going to be exhausted. We can't do them much good if we're asleep on our feet."
As much as Hermione wanted to argue, she found herself too tired to attempt it. She twisted the cap off the bottle and looked at how the moonlight flickered across the little bottle. It twinkled and shone like a tiny star, the liquid inside a calming blue. She drank it down in a small gulp. At first it tasted sweet like berries, but she blanched as the medicinal aftertaste set in.
"Are you going to—" Hermione slurred a bit, holding the bottle up.
"Not until I'm in bed," said Ginny with a small laugh. "Night, Hermione."
"Nigh', Ginny," she sighed, laying down in Ron's bed.
It smelled like him. The pillow was downy and soft, and his blanket was broken in and worn in the best of ways. It was so cosy. There was no better bed than Ron's bed. The only thing that could make it better would be Ron curled beside her, his rumbling snores muffled as he slept on his stomach.
She missed him. He was the one person who could make her feel as relaxed as that bottle had. It was blue like his eyes. That was nice… Yes… Cosy blue eyes, so warm and twinkling and shining like a star and she was floaty when she thought about him.
He'd be okay… Everything was fine and light and fuzzy and…
She woke up several hours later with the early morning sun streaming through the South-facing window. Little see-through Cannons stickers lit up and dappled the room in tiny orange dots, like stained glass would light the corridors of Hogwarts.
She felt truly well-rested and normal for the first time in ages. She saw why Harry liked these potions…
As well as she had slept, she didn't think she could ever bring herself to rely on it. It was too intoxicating, too clever, too warming.
The balm of discomfort was what she needed.
She began packing for Australia. She wasn't sure when they would leave, but Ron had said after his C. , so she might as well be prepared. Would they need a tent just in case? Food provisions would be needed too, then. She'd never again let them be starved, cold and worn to the bone…
She looked in the mirror, and saw she still looked all of those things. She was so thin, and her hair such a mess, she couldn't see how Ron still wanted to kiss and hold her. It must be like going to bed with a rake full of leaves. She couldn't do anything about her thinness, but she could wash her hair. It felt daunting to do so, and would take all her energy, but it was becoming quite necessary, given how her hair was now resembling a snarl of Devil's Snare.
It took ages to comb it out, and even longer for her to finally emerge from the water once she'd entered the warm cocoon of the shower. By the time her hair was dry she looked some semblance of herself.
Late morning she finally worked up the nerve to go downstairs and face the world, but brought a few books with her. The comforting smell of fresh bread perfumed the air, and the clinks of baking came from the kitchen as Mrs Weasley puttered about, but Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen.
"Hermione, dear, there's some porridge set aside for you on the counter," said Mrs Weasley, indicating a gingham towel at the end of the worn wood.
"Thank you," said Hermione, removing the cloth and finding a bowl of magically steaming hot porridge awaiting her, along with an assortment of toppings. "Have… Have Ron or Harry—?"
"Not yet," Mrs Weasley replied, folding, then refolding a tea towel. She looked careworn, her hair just a bit less gathered than usual. "Ginny's been off flying, if you'd like to join her."
"I think I will," said Hermione, holding her books to her chest. She had no interest in precariously balancing on a broom, but she could watch Ginny and wait for the boys to come back.
The clouds seemed perfectly placed to keep the sun from glaring down as she took a seat at the bottom of an apple tree. She opened the Auror training manuals and began taking notes on spells that might assist with her parents.
She immediately noted the Auditory Enhancement Spell Ron had found the previous evening. She practised it on the Burrow and could hear Mrs Weasley drop a pan and curse as thoroughly as Ron. She had wondered where he'd picked up some of the more elaborate curses.
Yes, that spell would be quite useful to make sure she was alone with her parents before she did magic.
She tried it again on a distant dragonfly and could hear its little wings buzzing, and even a small 'pat' as it landed on a nearby flower. Then she heard footsteps.
There in the distance was a figure, walking slowly and heavily, but his unmistakable shock of red hair and height made it clear Ron had come back to her.
She cancelled the spell, and sped across the field, as sure-footed as she could while avoiding gnome burrow holes, and threw herself into his arms.
He melted into her, and she pushed her head into his solid form. He smelled of soap and grass, but under that a hint of stress sweat worked its way through.
After a moment he held her back from himself.
"You need to ask a security question," he said, voice rough and so hoarse it barely resembled Ron's usual light baritone.
"Oh, erm…" Hermione racked her brain, not feeling prepared. "Who were you paired up with when we got Harry from his house last summer?"
"Tonks," he rasped, nodding at her. "What does S.P.E.W. stand for?"
"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she said.
He fell back into her arms, this time heavily letting himself droop around her. She could feel him almost imperceptibly shaking, and his breath hitched in her ear.
He held her a bit too tightly, his forehead pressing a touch painfully against her temple. His hair was damp, and his unshaven face rasped ever so lightly against her skin.
"You're okay," he mumbled near her ear. She hugged him back just as tightly as he held her.
"Me? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" she replied, slowly letting go. His hands went to her face and he had a worn relieved smile on his face, and a large bruise forming on his temple. "Are you alright?"
"Getting by," he said with a smile, though it was not very convincing.
"Oy!" came a cry from the air.
A streak of red hair flew past them, and Ginny landed in front of Ron. She looked her brother over up and down, no doubt taking in the bruise forming on his temple.
"Don't they have any bruise ointment at the Aurors?" she asked, fingers wrapped so tightly around her broom they turned white.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Bruise ointment is for the weak. I'll heal like a true wizard—slowly and with excessive complaining."
Ginny laughed and gave him a light punch in the arm and he grimaced in pain, letting out a moan.
"Ron?" asked Ginny, as Hermione pulled at his sleeve to see his arm.
"Had some splinters in there. Might've missed a few," he said, squinting at his arm. "Where's Harry at?"
"He's not come home yet," said Ginny.
Ron's eyes sharpened and his brows furrowed.
Worry took hold of Hermione immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Maybe nothing," he said, face shuttering.
"But maybe something," she answered.
"He finished his final interview with the Aurors before me, so I thought he would have come straight back."
"You don't suppose something happened to him?" asked Hermione.
"I don't think so," said Ron with a shake of his head. "We were really put through it with our third exam. It wasn't good. He was in a right state by the end of it… He might be hiding from us somewhere."
"What happened?" asked Hermione.
He opened his mouth to tell her, but stopped himself, making a face somewhere between worry and distaste. "I'm not sure I should tell with Ginny here."
"Really?" Ginny asked, hands going to her hips.
"Ron, we can't keep excluding her," reproached Hermione.
"I'm not trying to—"
"I don't see why you're insisting—" she began as Ginny added, "It's ridiculous that you're still trying to shut me out!"
"Drop it," he growled, voice hard and cutting enough to make both girls stop arguing. "You weren't there, and you don't know what happened."
"Then tell us!" Ginny demanded.
Ron shook his head, looking away.
He looked completely wrung out, and the usual hint of ruddiness in his cheeks was nowhere to be found. The shadows under his eyes cut deep.
A cocktail of sympathy, worry, and frustration stirred within Hermione, refusing to settle into one clear emotional state. She wanted to shake him until every last secret fell from his lips. She wanted to hide him away and cradle him until he was better.
She didn't have time for any of that, though. Now was one of those times she had to be practical. She could still do that, at least.
Hermione schooled her features and quietly asked, "what happened?"
"We got tangled with a Boggart," he told her, just as quietly.
"You both know how to handle one of those," she said, trying to keep a cynical lilt from her voice.
Of the three of them, she was the only one to wilt in front of a Boggart, and that was back in third year. They had both easily conquered their Boggarts. Why would this be any different? The thought of them being taken out by something as minor as a Boggart was laughable… But clearly something was different, as Ron had a weary edginess about him.
"It wasn't… It wasn't like anything we've seen in the past," he said, unable to meet their eyes. "I don't know if you should hear this, Gin…"
"I'm not made of glass." Ginny was frowning, but her voice had lost its hard edge.
"It turned into a... version of you," he said, directing his gaze to Ginny, an apologetic twist in his brow. "You— It… It was covered in blood, and it blamed Harry for everything that's happened—every death, every attack. It was brutal, but we did a Riddikulus, so it was okay until we fell into this stuff called Boggart dust."
Ginny asked, "Boggart dust?" but Hermione gasped, mind twisting in worry.
"It's produced in a Boggart breeding den. It makes a person hallucinate their worst fears. Sort of like a waking night terror," explained Hermione, waiting for Ron to laugh it off and tell her it wasn't that bad.
"I only got a little bit on me and it was fucking terrifying…" he rasped out. "I was thrashing on the ground and completely out of it until Neville and the others got me and washed it out of me. Felt like they were scrubbing my brain with a scouring pad, but I didn't have it half as bad as Harry."
"What did you see?" Hermione couldn't help but ask, curiously piqued.
"Nothing good," he said with a shudder. "But Harry was covered in it. He was on the ground crying and I couldn't snap him out of it. It was like his Voldemort nightmares, but a thousand times worse… I've never seen him so— it was seriously bad."
She put a hand on his and gave it a minor squeeze.
"We should find him," said Ginny.
"I don't know if he'll want to see anyone right now," Ron said with a hopeless shrug.
"Then he can tell that to our face," replied Ginny, a determined glint in her eye as she crossed her arms. "The real question is where has he chosen to hide?"
They discussed the possibility of Hogwarts, but quickly dismissed it. There would be far too many people around. That also precluded Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and Bill and Fleur's, leaving only Grimmauld Place as a possibility. Not wanting to disturb their mother with the news of Harry's absence, the siblings quickly thought of a somewhat believable lie, and decided to not mention that Ron had finished his exam to avoid any questions or delays.
Hermione and Ginny found Mrs Weasley knitting in the living room.
"Mum, Harry's wanting to redecorate Grimmauld place eventually, and I want to surprise him with some ideas," Ginny smoothly lied. "Is it ok if I go there for a bit to take some notes? Hermione would take me."
"Don't you want to wait for the boys?" asked Mrs Weasley, a somewhat suspicious look on her face.
"We could be waiting for hours. I'd rather stay busy, if that's alright."
It was a good argument. Mrs Weasley was the sort to stay busy any time she was out of sorts— at least before the war she was.
"Well, as long as Hermione is with you the entire time…" replied Mrs Weasley, hands slightly wringing the knitting in her lap. "Bill already cleared it a few weeks ago, and it should be safe."
"If Bill says it's safe, it's safe, Mum," said Ginny, hand rubbing her mother's shoulder.
"Yes… Yes, it will be safe," she whispered. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"No, Mum. You should wait here for the boys," she said with a kind smile. "You know I'll be fine with Hermione."
Mrs Weasley patted her daughter's hand as the two Weasley women talked through the logistics of their travels and dinner plans, Hermione had to look away.
Mrs Weasley felt Hermione was someone who could keep others safe, which almost made a bitter laugh bubble up.
The plan to journey to Grimmauld Place left her feeling ill. They would have to Apparate to keep Mrs Weasley from fretting over Harry missing at the Floo. The last time she had side-along Apparated to Grimmauld she'd nearly killed Ron. She could feel the sticky hot blood seeping through everything, how cold and lifeless he became in arms. The ripping gash of panic at the thought of him dead. She'd killed her Ron!
Ginny's arm brushed hers and Hermione nearly jumped away.
She mutely followed, casting a glance back at Molly Weasley, who gave a tight but trusting smile.
She shouldn't trust Hermione with anything.
She'd never really thought about how Ron being in danger added to the care-worn look Molly Weasley sported these days. When Ron was in danger, Hermione's only thoughts were him and herself.
How often had she helped Ron be a little more in danger? He'd pushed her out of the way and sacrificed himself for her so many times. His mother had no idea how often he'd nearly died because he was near Hermione.
"You ok?" asked Ron. He was casually leaning against the largest backyard tree, hands in his pockets.
Unable to articulate the web of emotions entangling her, Hermione simply nodded in response, her lips pressed into a thin line.
He moved to her side and gave her a small poke.
"It's just… I'm just worried…" she said, unable to bring herself to even a little bit explain.
"Harry'll be fine," he replied, standing a bit taller as Ginny came up. "Let's side-along."
Her hands shook.
"I'll take Ginny?" asked Ron.
"Yes," she said, feeling a semblance of relief, even through the numbness taking hold of her. She wouldn't be able to hurt him.
Ron apparated them away and Hermione quickly joined them on the step of Grimmauld Place. She braced herself as she followed them in.
Whenever she thought of Grimmauld Place, Hermione's mind flashed with penetrating sadness and darkness, but the reality of it clashed with her associations.
The house was brightly lit and cosy, much like Kreacher had kept it those weeks in August. A fire leapt and crackled in the freshly swept fireplace, and a delightful smell much like one she'd find in Mrs Weasley's kitchen wafted through the air.
Ron gave a moan. "Merlin, I'm hungry."
Within a few moments the elf appeared before them and gave a bow so low his fleshy nose scraped the floor.
"Mister Weasley and Miss Granger, welcome back. Kreacher is pleased you did not die a most gruesome of deaths."
"You too," said Ron, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Hermione managed to say, never quite sure how to respond to the elf's darker comments, beyond keeping her words formal. "We're glad you're well too."
"And you, Miss Weasley," he said with another deep bow.
Ginny, who had not seen Kreacher since his days of being encrusted and muttering epithets under his breath, had a bemused expression.
"That's new," she muttered to Hermione.
"Kreacher, is Harry here?" asked Ron.
"Poor Master Harry is here, sir. He has not slept or allowed Kreacher to feed him or heal him," said Kreacher, his eyes watering before he blew his nose on a lace handkerchief with the Black family crest. "So like Master Regulus… Troubled, so troubled. Kreacher came home from rebuilding Hogwarts the moment he arrived, but Master Harry wants nothing. Not even a charcuterie board."
"Where did he hole himself up in?" asked Ginny.
"In Master Sirius's bedroom. Should Kreacher let Master Harry know you're here?"
"We can let ourselves in," said Ginny. Hermione was glad of it, because the last thing she wanted was Harry ordering them away with Kreacher about. The old elf could keep them out with a snap of his old snarled fingers.
"We could use some food, though," added Ron, which quickly grounded Hermione back in her own body. She quickly smacked his arm.
"Ron, really?!"
"What? He likes feeding us! Don't you, Kreacher?"
"Of course Kreacher likes feeding his Master's friends. Kreacher will have a four course feast as soon as—"
"Just something simple will do," Hermione intervened.
Kreacher gave a look of distaste at that, and Hermione felt the familiar discomfort of the elf's judgement prickle, but he gave a low bow to them before Disapparating.
They quickly ascended the stairs to Harry's room in silence, then entered.
Harry was sitting on the bed in a slumped dejected fashion, some papers crumpled in his hand and glasses set aside.
"Hey Harry," said Ron.
"Hi!" he replied in an oddly hearty voice. Harry swiped at his face before turning to them, hastily pushing the papers aside. He had the telltale signs of crying, red eyes and nose, and gave a deep sniff. It took everything in Hermione not to immediately fold her friend in an empathetic hug. He patted around for his glasses before hastily shoving them onto his face. "Erm, what are you doing here?"
"You didn't come home," said Ginny, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Harry's eyes settled on the door, like a scared deer about to wildly flail and bolt.
"You all right?" asked Ron.
Harry's gaze flicked towards them, a mix of weariness and defensiveness in his eyes. "I'm fine."
Ginny put her hand on his. "Ron told us about the Boggart dust…"
Harry's guard seemed to drop just a fraction even as he winced and looked away.
"What… What part?"
"Only what I saw," said Ron, shifting nervously as he always did when he was worried he'd broken a trust with Harry.
"Right," said Harry, voice dull.
"I didn't know what you saw after the dust, so I couldn't… I didn't tell that, of course," continued Ron.
"What did you see?" asked Hermione.
"Nothing that wasn't true," said Harry with a weary shake of his head.
"You know I don't blame you for any of my family getting hurt, right?" said Ginny, voice gentle and patient.
A shuddering sigh left him and he leaned forward, glasses askew as his hands pressed over his face.
"You might not…" Harry muttered into his hands.
"None of us do, mate," Ron added.
"What if I do?" said Harry, a growl in his voice. "I kept fucking up time and time again, and every time someone was hurt or dead…"
"You never directly caused—" Hermione began.
"Tell that to Sirius, or Dobby, or—"
"That was Bellatrix, not you!"
"Good thing I managed to tee people up for her," Harry grumbled.
"Harry—" Hermione attempted again.
"How about when I broke the taboo and we were taken to Malfoy Manor?" Harry bit back. "You almost died because of me."
Ron's face blanched and Hermione felt her feet take a path of their own, straight in front of Harry.
"No! You don't get to do that!" Her voice went embarrassingly shrill as it always did when she was upset, but he still seemed to shirk away from her. "Yes you made a mistake, but I was tortured because of what I am. If I wasn't your friend on a Horcrux hunt, who knows what could have happened to me last year. A Mudblood like me? I could have cluelessly gone to Hogwarts and been rounded up and killed."
"Don't," moaned Ron. "Don't say that."
"Well, it's true!" she said, her passion overriding any compassion for Ron's nerves. "I am alive because of our friendship, and Ron saving me, and Ron's family harbouring us. Those connections kept me alive. They didn't put me in more danger than I already was in just by existing!"
She felt Ron's warm presence beside her, and Ginny's gaze, but kept her eyes set on Harry's still distraught face.
"Still—" Harry began.
"We all knew what this war could do— what it meant if we didn't fight," Hermione continued, unable to keep her finger from wagging in his face. "And if a person fights, they can get hurt, or die, or those near them can…"
Hermione felt tears pricking at her eyes thinking of everyone.
"We chose to fight, because it was the right thing to do. And not because of you, you absolutely self-centred arse," she finished with a sniff.
Harry's mouth gave a small twitch and she heard Ron snort.
"You heard her, Harry. We couldn't give less of a shit about you," Ron laughed before he playfully nudged Hermione. "We were in it for the fame and glory. You were just an annoying additional feature."
"Ron!" Hermione chastised, slapping his arm.
He chuckled at her and put an arm around her shoulder. Warmth and comfort spread through her.
Harry was fondly smiling at them too.
How did Ron do that? How could he make everyone feel like a warm blanket had been nestled about them? That would probably be the most magical thing about Ron, even if he never picked up a wand again,
Ginny moved beside Harry and folded into his side. To Hermione's relief he let Ginny hold him and seemed to relax.
"Let's go home, mate," said Ron.
Harry gave a rending sigh and looked between the three of them. "Look, I appreciate you all coming after me… I do… But I don't know if I'm ready to go back to the Burrow yet."
Hermione was already forming a dozen different arguments in her head when Ginny said, "Then how about we go visit someone?"
"I'm… I'm really tired…"
"Well, I doubt he'd notice since he's just a few months old and mostly seems to enjoy chewing on his fists," she said with a small laugh.
It took a moment before Harry let out a stricken, "Oh, Teddy…"
"I went and saw him and Andromeda yesterday," she said, a small smile on her face. "He's so adorable. When he hiccups his hair changes colours. Just like… Just like his mum. I know he's too young to smile, they say, but he does. I swear he does."
Harry watched her describe it with a hungry look on his face.
"I figure we can have a bit of a reset with an adorable baby," continued Ginny. "Then, if you still want to avoid home a bit, we can come back here and Kreacher can spoil you as much as he likes… But you stewing alone isn't going to happen."
The small smile on Harry's face shifted. "I'm not sure Andromeda will want me around… Even if she doesn't blame me for what happened to her family, what kind of godfather am I? I'd completely forgotten to check on Teddy and—"
"Then it's a good thing you have me to remind you," Ginny kindly interrupted, standing up. "Why don't you take a moment to tidy up here and we'll meet you downstairs."
She didn't wait for an answer, and shuffled Ron and Hermione down to the living room. With the fireplace lit it was quite cosy.
"Kreacher has made food for Master Harry and his friends," said Kreacher, a broad smile on his weathered face.
"Thank you, Kreacher," said Ginny, continuing to take charge. "Kreacher, could you wrap up the food for travel, and if there is something easily reheated like stew or soup we could use some of that for Mrs Tonks."
"You want Kreacher to feed the blood-traitor niece Andromeda, who my mistress so despises?" the elf sniffed disdainfully.
"Mrs Black is your former mistress," Ron reminded. "Your current master is godfather to Andromeda Tonks's grandson, and I doubt your Master would like to hear you calling Mrs Tonks a blood traitor."
"Ron," Hermione warned, hating when he bandied around the word 'Master' like that.
"Master Harry has said nothing to Kreacher about this," Kreacher croaked.
"Do you really want to offend your Mas—" Ron shot a quick look at Hermione. "Harry. To offend Harry?"
Kreacher didn't reply but gave a small huff.
"So you'll prepare the food?" asked Ginny.
"You're not Kreacher's Master…" he said, giving a speculative stare at her.
"Given that Harry thinks the world of her, I don't think it's a good idea to vex her," added Hermione, hoping to help in some way.
The gnarled elf made a full act of thinking it over, rubbing at his wrinkled old chin in feigned speculation. He had to know the precarious position he was in, for he finally bowed and gave a grunt before disappearing into the kitchen, shoulders up to ears in obvious disatisfaction.
"Hopefully he won't put cockroaches in the crisps…" said Ron, with a shake of his head.
"How about you watch him for a bit? I need to do some girl talk with Hermione, anyways."
He looked with suspicion between Ginny and Hermione, but went along with his sister's prompting, following the cantankerous Kreacher with much the same unhappy set of his shoulders as the elf.
"How's Andromeda?" Hermione asked, feeling almost as wretched as Harry that she'd not done a thing about the Tonkses besides attend the funerals.
"She lost almost her entire family, so not well," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "I wanted to find something for Harry to concentrate on besides all this Auror nonsense."
Hermione nodded. "It sounds like what he went through with the Boggart dust was genuinely terrifying."
"Ron went through it too," said Ginny, tone careful.
"Of course he did, but it sounds like Harry had the worst of it," said Hermione, wringing her hands. "Boggart dust, from my limited readings, can have lingering effects for days, but I don't know if it's a chemical or magical effect, or just the mental effect from the trauma of what they saw, so I'll need to research it a bit. I don't know if sleeping draughts or dreamless sleep potions can be taken near to that either… Ted Tonks was a Healer, so maybe he'll have a book on it. Hopefully that won't upset Andromeda for us to research a bit when there. We'll have to figure out how that mixes with potions since Harry's been rather dependent on potions to sleep well."
"I'll bring back a book or two for you, if she seems open to it," said Ginny, voice just as careful and restrained.
"I can look through the books when I'm there," said Hermione, mentally compiling the topics that might be a good starting point for research.
"You won't be there, though," said Ginny.
"What?"
"Harry and I will go to Andromeda's, and you and Ron will go somewhere else."
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, mind stumbling at the news. "You said it yourself, Harry shouldn't be alone to brood over—"
"And he won't," said Ginny, looking at the floor. "I'm grateful to both of you for everything you did to set Harry straight upstairs, and how good you are at being his friend, but he needs some space to get over what happened to him, and you and Ron do too."
Hermione was flabbergasted. "Where is this coming from?"
"We talked about this the other day. Old habits die hard when it comes to putting Harry first."
Hermione thought over what had transpired the moment Ron told her Harry was missing. She and Ron had immediately placed him as top priority, of course. He needed help.
But once they found him, it continued.
Ron became a combination of guilt, heart and jokes, while Hermione was setting Harry straight and about to research to help him and only him… It had quickly become all about Harry.
She could picture it now, how it would go. They'd go to Andromeda's and carefully watch after Harry, making sure he was feeling supported, guiltless and happy. Hermione would research what potions Harry should take, and Ron would suppress his worries and tiredness to bolster spirits… They'd keep vigil over Harry all night, sorting strategies to keep him engaged and healthy… They'd throw everything into caring for him, as they always did. it was a pattern they'd fallen into time and time again.
"Harry needs seeing to, obviously. He's not doing well at all," said Ginny. "But Ron went through Boggart dust too, and if Harry's in the room, I'm worried Ron won't get any help."
She was right… Something that was happening more and more often. Ginny had been affected by the war, but she seemed to have her feet on more steady ground than Hermione and the boys. Distance gave her a much clearer view of the patterns their little trio had become accustomed to.
Hermione let out a sigh. "Thank you for keeping things in perspective for me."
Ginny looked on with kind eyes and nodded.
Hermione and Ron had been Harry's only support system for so long, it felt odd handing over the reins to Ginny, even for a moment. She imagined it was something like what a mother felt when her child graduated and went off to uni.
"I'm not fully running you two off, of course," Ginny hastily added.
"I didn't feel like you were," said Hermione, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her.
Things weren't going to be the same as they were. They couldn't be. Even if it was healthier to have more boundaries in their friendships, there was a sense of mourning. As wrong as it felt, she liked getting to help Harry and work with Ron to do it. Much of the time it was a way to bond with Ron and felt like she was tending to her friendship with Harry too.
If she wasn't useful to Harry, what was she to him? She wasn't funny, or particularly comforting most of the time, or interested in Quidditch, and frankly they didn't have much fun. They were practical, dedicated and had a bond nothing could shake, at least on her end… Sometimes, emergency tending felt like the main way she connected with Harry, be it a looming deadline for an essay or solving the newest mystery. She always felt Harry was one bad conversation away from shaking her off and leaving her in the dust. Would they continue to be as close when life inevitably calmed down?
And so much of her relationship with Ron was based around taking care of Harry. They could talk for hours on how to best help him, play out conversations on how to approach him, then debate methods for hours. Soon the two boys would be Aurors, and she'd be at Hogwarts. They'd be their fun duo, and Ron would be Harry's main minder in crises, and Hermione would be, what, an after the fact pen pal? With her nearness and usefulness gone, how long would it take before they realised she was unpleasant to put up without any benefits… Before Ron realised he was tied to a fussbudget with little to offer but nagging and help on paperwork…
"Well, the food is looking really nice, but you might need Harry to give a direct order that the food needs to not be fucked with or something…I can't stay in there," said Ron, twiddling a finger in his ear, the light of the fireplace striking sparks in his hair. "He began singing, if you can believe it!"
"Singing?" Hermione found herself able to laugh, despite her recent dip into dour thoughts.
"Oh this I need to hear!" said Ginny with a laugh, before disappearing into the kitchen.
"I'm curious what his singing would be about, but I'm not sure I actually want to hear it," laughed Hermione.
"At one point he sang about how much he loved his old mistress's snores, and enjoyed combing his former master's ear hair," he said with a smile that immediately put her at ease. When he was making fun he'd give an expectant almost shy smile as he waited for her to laugh along with him. The way his grin would curl into pure joy when she joined him was utterly infectious. "And beyond the creepy lyrics, he sounds like a rusty lock started gargling sandpaper! It's absolute torture."
Gosh, she loved him so much. She could be in the coldest and most desolate of moods, and then he was a warm mug of tea put in cold hands, or chocolate after a Dementor.
"Hope Harry's ready to go soon… I'm exhausted," said Ron, giving a mighty stretch. Despite his smiles and jokes, she could see the exhaustion etched under his eyes, and there was a stiffness to his movements she rarely saw in him. "Plus I still think I have splinters to remove."
"When's the last time you slept or ate?" she asked, fingers tracing over his arm. It was the same one he'd injured in the second C.R.E., and the same one she'd splinched all those months ago. She'd need better light to properly check him over for splinters and heal the minor cuts and scrapes he had.
"You sound like my Mum."
"I will take that as a compliment," Hermione primly replied, before giving his side a prod. "Now answer the question."
"Er what day is it?" he asked, giving a yawn. "I ate… dinner last night, and slept… night before last?"
"Hmm," she said, indexing each sleepy blink, each bruise, each stubbly patch of hair glistening on his unshaved jaw. "We're going home now."
"But Harry—"
"Can come home when he wants. Ginny will be there and he'll want some time to himself to bond with Teddy without a large audience."
"Since when are we an 'audience?'" Ron asked, even as he let her guide him to the fireplace.
"And I want you to myself," she added, ignoring his question. She took a handful of Floo powder and stated 'The Burrow' before gently pushing him towards it.
"You know, you're right bossy," said Ron, a small smile twitching as he stepped into the green flames.
"What's new about that?" she asked with a tut as he disappeared.
"We're off!" she called back, before grabbing some dust to follow him.
As they arrived Hermione regretted taking the Floo a bit, as they were trapped having to explain to Mrs Weasley that Harry and Ginny were with Teddy, and then had to sit through a good deal of fussing over Ron. Then again, Ron deserved more fussing over. She wasn't very good at it, but his mother surely was.
When Mrs Weasley had finished her fretting and feeding of Ron, she went to take a well deserved nap.
The rest of the afternoon they spent alone, removing splinters from Ron's arm, and cuddling up in the Quidditch field as Ron told her about all the misadventures with the Aurors.
"I can't believe they dosed you with truth serum," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "And you want to work for these people? After everything they've done?"
He squinted across the yard, and tore a small hunk of grass from the ground.
"I don't particularly want to work for them, no," he said. "But… But maybe Harry and I can help make it better?"
She repositioned herself until she was even with his face and could look at every one of his features better. He had freckles across every bit of him, but they were most densely congregated across his nose and cheeks. His brow, once rarely lined, had a crease forming between his gingery brows. He had a few tiny scars dotted here and there, most of which she remembered seeing him receive. He was so striking to look at, and funny and charmingly disarming, but there was a serious and earnest goodness to Ron Weasley that made her know she'd never be able to look at another man with even half as much admiration, no matter how long she lived.
As she watched him his eyes shifted to hers and seemed to stare right back, tracing over her face before a tiny smile twitched at his mouth.
"You're thinking I'm being stupid, aren't you?" he said with a small laugh.
"Not in the least," she firmly replied, before leaning in to kiss him right on the freckled, and almost imperceptibly crooked, bridge of his nose. "I know you can change things… I just don't like thinking about the price you might pay to do that."
His smile fell and a world-weary expression hung on him, but no place as heavy as his eyes. She waited for him to say more, but he didn't speak— just stared ahead, fingers tugging at the grass.
There was a time she would have filled the silence, but she found it was almost comforting to just be quiet next to one another in their contemplative moods. She traced the silvery scars up his arms, noting the change in texture between his smooth freckled skin, and the little grooves and valleys of silvery scars.
Eventually his eyes shifted back to her and he warmly stared at her.
The intimacy of touching and staring without reservation was a comfort after years of fleeting contact. Ron Weasley was hers… She'd always felt possessive about him, but it was built on a fear that she'd never fully have him… Now she could have moments like this with Ron whenever she wanted. It was exciting, yet calming. She supposed that was how it was to be with Ron even before their relationship. He was invigorating, always able to spark laughter or debate, but he was soothing and able to bring peace to her like no one ever had before.
She wasn't sure how long they'd laid there, when a crack of Apparition echoed across the yard.
Hermione could see the glint of glasses across the yard. She and Ron both hopefully craned their necks to see Harry returning, but instead of a shock of black hair, there was Weasley red.
Ron leaned in and kissed her temple, before standing and offering her his hand. "Thanks for worrying about me."
"I always worry about you!" she retorted, poking his shin. She took his hand and stood to see Percy Weasley walking across the field, face flushed and a large mass of paperwork in hand.
She brushed the grass off of her jeans and looked ahead at Percy. "Do you know why he's here?"
"Travel plans for getting your parents, I'd wager."
The meagre contents of her stomach roiled. Ron seemed to realise her discomfort and slid his hand into hers.
Percy approached, walking in his usual tight and proper way. Empirically, he and Ron looked very much alike, both had the Weasley hair and freckles, both were tall and lean, and both blue eyed. But expression and carriage made them look so utterly different one could never pass for the other. While Percy's resting face always seemed to have a mild frown on it, Ron had to distort his face to have a true frown on his, as he always had the smallest of smiles on his pleasant face when he wasn't moved by other emotions.
While Percy marched and walked with uncomfortably perfect posture, Ron loped in an easy grace that exuded his laid-back nature. Percy always had every hair combed into place and his outfit polished and professional, while Ron had a devil-may-care way of styling himself. True, much of Ron's style was just a natural consequence of inheriting his clothing, but Hermione quite enjoyed how he'd wear ties loose, or have his jumpers slung about him. It kept him approachable and a sight of easy comfort.
"Ron, Hermione," said Percy, giving a nod as he struggled with a handful of scrolls, and his glasses slid down his nose.
"Hey Percy," Ron greeted for them as he and Hermione helped unload the papers.
"How did your exam go? They were still in congress to talk about the candidates, so I didn't hear much," said Percy, as they led him to the dining room.
"Er, alright? I guess I'll find out," said Ron with a shrug.
Percy quickly set about making it a home office, including transfiguring the chairs into wheeled office chairs.
"I'm sure you're being modest. Please have a seat," he said with the formality of an undertaker. Ron gave a small laugh, but complied, and Hermione quickly followed. "Hermione, I'm not sure what all Ron told you I've been working on, so perhaps we can take this opportunity for you to share with me what you know."
Hermione usually knew how to answer questions quickly and thoroughly, but found herself a bit tongue tied. She'd been crying so hard when Ron told her things that she wasn't sure how to translate it into anything that made sense. Her mind uselessly repeated 'parents' 'Australia' 'found!' at her.
"I told her how you've helped with the paperwork for the discretionary fund to help pay for everything to retrieve her parents, like portkeys and hotels, and that you'd found them, but that's about it," provided Ron.
"That's about the way of it. Shall we proceed?" asked Percy, looking to Hermione for confirmation. She numbly nodded.
"As you can imagine, international travel right now is quite difficult since we're still trying to keep war criminals from fleeing, but also are working to unite families and bring people back. There is more security and paperwork to get permissions and access to international portkeys than ever before, so there is a mountain of paperwork required for anywhere within Europe, let alone far reaches like Australia."
"And you helped us with that part, yeah?" said Ron, obviously trying to speed him along.
Not so many years ago, she imagined Percy would have glared at Ron. Instead his mouth gave a small twitch.
"Yes," he said, organising the forms into some particular order only he knew. "Hermione, all the plans and paperwork needed to retrieve your parents are essentially complete. We just need to finalise the last details and sign a few forms."
"Thank you," she said, her hands tightening together in her lap.
"You're very welcome," he said, pushing forth a pile of papers. "Your parents settled in a suburb of Perth called Applecross. They are practising their dentistry in Booragoon."
"Is that anywhere near Thundelarra or Wollongong?" asked Ron, sitting up.
"No, it's not near any of the famous Quidditch teams. We have more important things to worry about than games," said Percy, more than a hint of condescension in his voice.
"I'm just trying to orient myself! Those are the only places I know much about there," frowned Ron, before looking at Hermione. "It's not about Quidditch, I swear."
Hermione gave his knee a squeeze, and Ron did his best to stow away the powerful glower of a younger brother.
Percy quickly let her know her parents were happy and healthy, then moved on to the logistics of their travel. Because her parents were no longer aware of magic, they needed to use extra levels of caution when around them until their memories were restored.
"Technically, memory tampering when not a licensed Obliviator is a misdemeanour, but given the circumstances of the war, the Ministry is looking the other way about it. That said, it's best we not have your need of memory services on paper, so we'll need to procure some in Australia off the books."
"I think I can manage it myself," said Hermione, running her index finger along a small hangnail forming at her thumb. "I did the original memory spells, so undoing them should go the same."
"Yes, I imagine you'll be able to manage," said Percy, a kindly look on his face. "Well, in that case we won't get those. I suppose we can move on to your travel arrangements, accommodations and finances."
The Ministry, or rather, Percy, had arranged for a secure pair of rooms at a local Muggle hotel so their base of operations would be a place her parents could easily visit. He also created a credit card to hold the majority of their funds, as well as some Muggle pounds . Should they need magical funds, it would be available via exchange at the Perth International Bank, but the majority of their visit should stick to Muggle means.
Portkey and other arrangements all conveyed, and a multitude of forms signed that she and Ron did not take the time to read, the trip was ostensibly planned.
"All we need now is your travel date," said Percy, putting forth a final form, a black line of ink waiting for a date to be written on top of it.
Part of her wanted to say 'tomorrow,' and another part yearned for 'never.' So much could go wrong the moment her parents knew what she'd done.
"I'm… I'm not quite sure…" she glanced over to Ron, who was avidly watching her. "I don't want to disrupt anything you're doing with the Aurors…"
"You can disrupt away, they don't matter," he said with a wave of his hand.
"And your family… Maybe we should wait until—"
"Until things are better?" Ron gave a painfully sardonic smile. The look on his face plainly said 'that might be years in the making.' "Though, I don't like the idea of us having to wait a week for any notes by owl if something goes wrong."
"Oh! We have a solution for that," said Percy, keeping his face squarely fixed on the form in front of him, and not looking up. "Since you will be in Muggle accommodation, you can send messages for communication via telephone. An owl will be dispatched from the Ministry alerting the family to any message. You two can use any Muggle phone in Australia just following the codes on this form, receive messages back, and even arrange phone calls."
Out of excuses to delay collecting her parents, she and Ron decided to leave in four days time.
"Good luck with your travels," said Percy, gathering the forms. He stood before them still looking at the forms. "And Ron… Best of luck with the Aurors. I still think they'd be very lucky to have you."
"Sure sure," said Ron, standing and undoing the magic on his and Percy's chairs so they returned to their normal state, a small frown pulling at his mouth.
"Thank you for all your help, Percy," said Hermione. "I can't imagine how difficult this would have been to navigate without your help."
"It's my job, Hermione," replied Percy, before hastily adding, "but I'm glad to do it all the same."
"Are you going to stay for dinner?" asked Ron.
"No… A, er, camp was uncovered the other day. We've been identifying bodies and lots of families need—"
Percy stopped speaking a moment, before giving a grimace.
"No, I have some more work matters to take care of," he quietly said before, in a forced tone of heartiness, he added, "and that includes this paperwork. I want to make sure all the forms are properly filed and arrangements finalised via the proper channels in time for your travel."
With a last thanks from her, Percy left the house at a brisk pace.
Ron continued to wear a contemplative face.
"I think it was rather nice of Percy to come himself to help us with all the paperwork," Hermione ventured, watching him with a nervous pit in her stomach. He gave a nod, but didn't answer.
Whenever she found Ron in a foul mood she found it very hard to get him out of it. He felt every emotion so keenly and deeply, he became quite entrenched at times. She was never very good at handling her own emotions, much less those of others. She could immediately tell when someone was displeased, but sorting out where the displeasure came from and how to solve it before she felt the wrath of someone…She was better at making emotions boil over, truth be told. Forthrightness was the one useful attribute she could bring in situations like this.
"Are you… quite well?" she asked.
Ron blinked and looked towards her. "Of course I am."
She tilted her head at him waiting for him to continue.
"It's just… Percy's up to his eyeballs identifying bodies… Who knows what's happened to those people… Add in Auror stuff, Harry stuff, family stuff all being absolutely sideways," said Ron, running a hand up his neck. "Every bit of our world is a bit fucked…"
She wished she had an argument for him. She wished she could staunchly defend the world they lived in and say things weren't all that bad. She couldn't think of any consolation.
"I know… I know it's not always going to be like this," he said, turning his blue eyes on her. He said it with such conviction, she could almost believe it. "But things are so fucked, it's not going to shake out for who knows how long… And I'm just fucking tired of everything, to be honest."
That, she could understand perfectly. She wished she could fervently believe things would get better, but she never had a knack for optimism. Since the war, she wasn't sure if she'd ever feel optimistic again. At least with Ron, it seemed more possible. _
Harry came to the Burrow later that evening, along with Ginny and many vivid descriptions of the adorable antics of a chubby baby who, from his descriptions, mainly chewed his fist and had hiccups that changed his hair colour. Harry had not looked so joyful in at least a year, and they perfectly 'awwed' as he showed a few pictures he'd been gifted by Andromeda. Any research Hermione could have done on Boggart dust and its effects would have been useless compared to the power of a joyfully spent afternoon.
Ron smiled at Hermione as Mr and Mrs Weasley indulgently agreed with Harry that Teddy was "definitely smart, don't you think? He makes eye contact and everything."
"I mean, he's a cute little mite," Ron whispered in Hermione's ear, "but I think for a baby that can't even roll over yet, Harry's going a bit hard, thinking Teddy's a genius."
"Oh, let him!" Hermione chided, feeling herself smile as Harry described the way Teddy "He's happy."
"I know, that's why I'm whispering in your ear and telling Harry—" Ron turned and raised his voice, "Harry?"
"Yeah?" asked Harry.
"Pass another picture of that smart godson of yours, eh?" beckoned Ron, putting out his long fingered hand. Harry happily obliged, handing over a photo of Teddy. The baby had a small smile as he cuddled and mouthed at a stuffed bear, hair turning a cheerful marigold.
The distraction of Harry in a merry mood for once let Hermione eat her meagre amount without much prodding from Ron to eat more.
The meal was pleasant, and the mood fair, until an owl came knocking on the window.
Mr Weasley rose and received the envelope— crisp and sealed with a red wax seal of Aurors.
Harry and Ron both stared at the envelope as if it might explode as it was brought to the table.
"Ron," said Mr Weasley, handing his son the envelope.
Ron took the envelope and his fingers trembled slightly as he held it. Hermione watched him intently, unsure what she wanted the outcome to be.
Ron's eyes flickering between the envelope and Harry, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Taking a deep breath, Ron broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned the parchment silently, his face a mask of concentration.
Ron's brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting Hermione's before shifting to Harry.
"I got in," he said quietly, holding up the letter as if it were a fragile artefact.
Mrs. Weasley let out a delighted gasp and rushed to hug her son, while Mr. Weasley beamed with pride.
"Oh, Ron, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion.
Hermione couldn't help but notice the lack of joy in Ron's eyes. He kept glancing at Harry, who had not yet received his own letter.
"Congratulations, Ron," Harry said, managing a smile. It was genuine but tinged with a hint of sadness. "You deserve it."
Ron nodded, his expression softening. "Thanks, mate. I'm sure your letter's on its way."
Hermione reached out and squeezed Ron's hand. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered, hoping to convey how much she meant it. Ron gave her a grateful smile, but the underlying tension remained.
After some more hearty congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned in for the night, leaving the younger ones to their own devices. Harry and Ginny settled closely on the couch in the living room, their heads bent together as they spoke in hushed tones.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, and with a silent agreement, they slipped away and headed towards Ron's room. Once inside, they closed the door softly and climbed onto Ron's bed, settling into a comfortable cuddle. She watched him bite his lip, lit by the dual lights of the side table lamp, and moonlight.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, leaning her head up to watch his profile.
Ron sighed, running a hand through his red hair. "Like a pile of dragonshite… Me getting in before Harry just feels completely off. He was always the one who was supposed to become an Auror, not me. Ever since we were kids, I could tell he wanted it. And now here I am, getting in before him. It doesn't feel right."
Hermione lifted her head to look into his eyes. "Ron, you deserve this just as much as Harry."
"I honestly didn't think they'd let me in after my last interview. I mean, I basically told them to go fuck themselves and left!"
"Diplomacy has never been your strongest suit," she replied with a fond laugh.
"I can be diplomatic!"
"Compared to Harry, maybe…"
"I just don't let people walk all over my friends, is all! I'm perfectly diplomatic if they are," he said, putting his nose in the air.
Hermione smiled fondly at him. "One of the many traits I admire about you."
He gave a slightly stunned look, but a smile lit his face. "Yeah?"
"Yes," she said, smoothing the wrinkles on his shirt. "You've worked hard, and you're an incredible wizard. Harry knows that too. He would never want you to feel guilty about your own achievements."
Ron sighed again, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "I know, but I can't help feeling like I'm stepping on his dreams. What if his letter doesn't come?"
Hermione gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin, rasping at the bit of unshaven stubble. "They're most likely going to make him jump through some more hoops, after today, but that letter will come eventually. And when it does, we'll all celebrate together. Until then, you deserve to be happy about this… If you still want to be an Auror, of course."
Ron nodded, staring up at the ceiling. "I do… At least for now…"
He leaned over her to grab the letter he'd been given. "I've got to go to the Auror office tomorrow. Sign the paperwork and see my mind healer, Aarti."
"How's that been going, with Aarti?" she asked gently.
Ron stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening. "Alright, I guess"
"What's it like? I've never been to therapy."
"I get asked a lot of questions… Give a lot of answers," he began slowly. "Have to describe a bunch of things that happened and what I think about them…"
His throat bobbed with an uncomfortable looking swallow. "It can be rough. And requires a lot more writing than I thought it would! But I can see how it might be helpful. You know, eventually…"
"What kind of writing do you do?" she asked, curious to hear that. She pictured therapy as the cliched patient on a leather couch being asked about their childhood, and mixed remnants from films she's watched where people are asked impossibly perfect questions that gave convenient to the plot 'aha!' moments. She'd never pictured there being writing involved.
"Aarti gave me worksheets. They ask questions like, 'What happened? Why do I think that happened? What were you thinking at the time?' Things like that… "
"Do you find it helps, writing it all down?"
"Mostly it feels like I'm opening old wounds, right now." Ron said with a shrug, his eyes avoiding hers. "But Aarti says I have to complete a full course of therapy before I'm allowed to go into active service as an Auror, so… I'm going to do it."
Hermione reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "That sounds incredibly difficult. But if it helps you heal and gets you where you want to be, it's worth it, right?"
Ron gave a small smile. "Maybe... I hope it helps… If it does, maybe you should think about it too. Seeing someone, I mean."
Hermione felt her body stiffen as she considered his words. "Maybe," she said quietly, then quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, I've been thinking more about Australia and getting my parents back and finalising plans."
Ron seemed relieved by the change in topic and asked, "Yeah? What do you need to do?"
"I've been researching spells that might help us, and your Auror books have been quite helpful in that regard."
"Glad I can help you with research," he said, a fond, almost teasing smile on his face.
Hermione smiled back, feeling a warmth in her chest. "And I didn't even need you to grab volumes from a high shelf."
Ron chuckled, pulling her closer. "So, what spells have you found?"
"There's one that might help with memory restoration even more than the ones I already researched, but it's quite complex. I'll need to practise it a few times before we go. And an Auditory Enhancement Spell will be handy for making sure we're alone with them and can safely administer the spells."
"I call that one the eavesdropping spell."
"Yes, that's a bit nicer to say," she noted, tapping a finger on her chin. "We can go to their office to see what their usual schedule is, then find a time where they are alone at their office… Maybe even do a spell to get them to linger past the other workers."
"Wouldn't it be easier to do it at their home?" he asked.
"I know it sounds silly, but I don't want to do this to them in their home. I already used spells on them before at home, and it felt like enough of a violation… And afterwards, they might be angry and I'd rather be kicked out of their office than their home…"
"I don't think they'd kick you out," he said, putting a hand around her middle.
"Not forever, perhaps, but for a bit?" she roughly swallowed. "I can't imagine they'll be pleased with what I've done. It… It might be some time before they want to see me again… If they ever want to see me again."
"They'll want to see you," he assured her. "They've always been proud of you because you're bloody brilliant, and good and gorgeous."
She shifted under his praise.
"I'm… I'm not all those things…"
"Yeah you are," he said with certainty. "But even if you weren't, they love you. They wrote you loads over the years and had your picture everywhere. You're their only daughter. They'll come around eventually, even if they're ticked."
She bit her lip and fretted over the infinite possibilities at what her parents would say and do. She'd never once disappointed her parents. Even just imagining the looks on their faces was enough to make her want to flee the room. Instead she gripped the sheet in her hands and wrung it. "I just want to be sure everything goes smoothly. They've been through so much already because of me. I need to make it right."
"You will," Ron assured her, slowly disentangling her hands from the sheet to hold them. His hands were large and warm as they massaged blood back into them. "I know this will go okay."
She leaned into his shoulder, wishing the comfort of his presence could make her stomach stop roiling.
"Ron… I love you so much," she felt herself mumbling against his soft orange t-shirt.
His hands stopped moving before she felt them squeeze.
"Yeah?" he asked, tone hopeful and breathless.
Oh no. Hermione realised she'd said it out loud to him. She'd never said it to his face before! She was almost afraid to look at him, but his hands left hers to tilt her face up to his.
"You love me?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.
She nodded, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips.
"Yes," she said softly, feeling her heart race in her chest. "I love you."
Ron's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and joy. He didn't hesitate for a moment before leaning in and capturing her lips in a fervent kiss that left no room for doubt of his feelings. When they finally pulled apart, breathless and with their foreheads resting against each other, Hermione felt a sense of peace settle over her.
"You know I love you too, right?" he whispered against her.
She nodded, feeling her eyes begin to prickle. She wasn't sure how she'd managed to make her favourite person actually love her back, but it had happened, and some tension she'd been holding in some unknown part of her body seemed to release.
A few hot tears slid down her face. As she tightened her eyes shut she felt his thumbs wiping at her cheeks.
"We'll get through this," Ron whispered. "Together."
Hermione nodded, feeling a renewed strength. "Together," she echoed, knowing that even through all the uncertainty, she at least had Ron.
Author's note:
Given that I'll have a newborn in about three months, I don't know where my energy and time will be at for a while. So it might be a while between updates, or not- I really can't predict :P
Thank you so much to all of you who review my writing and letting me know what you think about it- that sort of interaction really helps inspire me to keep writing. So, please let me know what you think! :D