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Author: kjcp Story: Rebuilding Tomorrow Rating: Mature Setting: Pre-DH Status: WIP Warning: language Reviews: 3 Words: 15,168
The next morning Mrs Weasley let her son sleep in. When Ron finally awoke it was almost noon and sunlight, in broken bands, flooded his room through the old blinds that covered the windows. He stretched his body, his muscles sore from sleeping in the same position all night. Hermione must have left very quietly because he didn’t remember waking up or hearing her as she Disapparated. The Quidditch players on his Cannons posters zoomed around, tossing up Quaffles and grabbing at Snitches. For the first time Ron didn’t feel that twinge of jealousy as he watched the players. That’s what he used to want to do. He wanted to play Quidditch and have everyone chant his name, to have reporters want to interview him and countless girls want to date him. He experienced the former while at Hogwarts, but not the latter. Now, Ron knew he wasn’t interested in becoming a professional athlete. After Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup and changed the words to Malfoy’s awful ‘Weasley is Our King’ song, Ron had entertained the thought of being a Keeper if he didn’t get accepted into the Auror program. Now he wanted something more out of life. The newspapers called him a hero. Said he flew into battle without so much as a thought for himself, his only concern being the freedom of the wizard world. Ron wasn’t so sure that was entirely true. He hadn't really thought about much of anything while he was fighting. He didn’t want to die; he wanted to protect Hermione and Harry so that Harry could go straight to Voldemort and kill him. It was nice being called a hero and Ron wanted to live up to those headlines. Mrs Weasley clipped them all and put them in a drawer in the kitchen. She had every story about what heroes her sons were and what a proud fighter her husband was. Ron had caught her, with tears in her eyes and one hand clutching onto a handkerchief, looking through the articles. He quickly stepped out of the kitchen, not wanting to intrude on his mother’s private mourning - nor did he want to somehow get drawn into conversation about the articles, either. He wasn’t ready for that yet. Ron yawned and rubbed his eyes; they stung slightly from the bright sunlight. He blindly reached over to his bedside table and felt around for his wand. Once he found it, he pointed it at the blinds and they all shut, blocking out the light. His eyes felt better, but he still needed to move and get out of bed. Ron lay there, not wanting to move, but then his stomach rumbled loudly in protest. Get up, get up, he told himself. As he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, his eyes caught a glimpse of something sitting atop his alarm clock. It was a piece of parchment with curly letters written across it in very straight lines. The handwriting was pristine; the only person that perfect was Hermione. Ron, I am glad you were able to fall asleep. I’m spending time with my parents today, doing some shopping and going out for dinner. If you are able to make it for dinner, Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron at six. My parents have expressed an interest in getting to know you better. Don’t get stressed about it! It is a good thing! If you cannot make it, I understand. You need to be there for your family and Harry if they need you at home. I do hope to see you, but I understand if you have to stay home. I hope you can fall asleep tonight, but if you can't, don’t hesitate to send me an owl. Although, please send Hedwig this time. Pig nearly woke up my parents zooming around my bedroom. Much Love From, Hermione. P.S. You snore adorably.
Ron snorted. Adorably? Hermione was nutters . He folded the note in half and threw it inside the drawer of his bedside table. It landed amongst other random bits of parchment and leftover sweets from his brothers’ Skiving Snackboxes. Ron stood and shuffled his way through the door, into the hallway, and down the stairs. In the kitchen, Ginny had a magazine in front of her and a look of intense concentration on her face. His mother sat across from her, four cookbooks opened on the table, her eyes flickering back and forth between each of them. The room still smelled of bacon and toast. The breeze that filtered through the open windows brought in the scents of a summer morning at The Burrow: leftover rain on the grass, freshly bloomed flowers, dirt kicked up by running garden gnomes. Those smells were less apparent than normal since it was hardly morning anymore. ‘Finally decided to move your arse , did you?’ said Ginny, continuing to look through the glossy pages of what Ron suspected was Witch Weekly. ‘Usually someone wakes me up,’ complained Ron. ‘Is there any bacon left?’ ‘Lunch is in an hour. If you want food before then, you can make it yourself,’ said Mrs Weasley. Ron frowned but went to the cupboard and looked through the food inside. ‘I figured Hermione would have woken you up before she left,’ commented Ginny. Ron froze, his eyes focused on a bag of blue powder that, when added to vegetable broth, turned into stew. ‘What makes you say that?’ ‘I saw her in your room this morning. Harry and I were going to go for a fly before breakfast. He suggested we invite you to come along.’ ‘Where is Harry?’ ‘Out in Dad’s shed.’ Ron seized the opportunity to dip out of what could turn into a very uncomfortable conversation with his mother and sister about having a girl spend the night in his room. He all but ran out of the kitchen and across the grass to the shed. He was still barefoot and the grass was short enough that it prickled the bottoms of his feet. The shed was old, the paint peeling and several of the windows broken. On the door used to be a Muggle padlock, but it had been broken for years. The door itself didn’t shut all the way and the tables inside were lopsided. Plugs, wires, and batteries were divided by colour up into groups on the tables. The largest group was in the middle, made up of copper toned wires and batteries. There were large chests and boxes everywhere, organised in haphazard order. Ron had no idea what was inside them. He never bothered to find out. Sitting on one of the boxes and looking thoroughly distressed was Harry Potter. He still didn’t have clothes that fit well; Mrs Weasley tried to get him to go shopping with her last summer, but he always refused and ended up having to borrow clothes over the past year from each of the Weasley brothers as his kept getting torn and destroyed during their adventures searching for the Horcruxes. ‘Enjoy your fly this morning?’ asked Ron, leaning his shoulder against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. Harry looked up. ‘What?’ ‘Your fly with Ginny? Or is that just what you call groping my sister?’ ‘Shut it, Ron. We flew over the woods and back. Then I groped your sister.’ Harry said it so matter-of-flatly and with such a straight face that Ron had a notion to go pummel him. But, then, laughter erupted from his throat. He couldn't be angry with Harry for that. He wanted Harry to date his sister. They were good for one another and despite all their trying, Ron and Hermione could never make Harry smile the way Ginny could. ‘So, you’re not angry at me anymore?’ ‘Oh, I’m still angry,’ said Ron, ‘but I’d rather be holed up in this shed than listen to those two talk at me.’ ‘Yeah, your mum was a bit fussed about Hermione staying in your room. She hopes your father gave you the special Weasley talk and if not, she was going to Floo Bill right over to have it with you instead.’ Ron rolled his eyes. His father had given him the ‘special Weasley talk.’ It was embarrassing and when it was over, Ron wasn’t sure whose face was more red, his father’s or his. Weasleys reproduced without trying. Pregnancy happened a lot - well, obviously with seven children. Mr Weasley had to make sure Ron knew all of this before he got ‘too involved’ with his girlfriend. ‘What’re you doing in here?’ ‘Fight,’ said Harry. ‘With Ginny.’ He rested an elbow on his thigh and put his chin in his right hand. The left fiddled with a hole in the knee of his jeans. That would explain the distressed look on Harry’s face. ‘About what?’ ‘I can't tell you.’ ‘Why the bloody hell not?’ Harry shrugged. ‘Dunno. I think it’s in the rule book or something that brothers are always supposed to side with their sisters and beat up the boyfriend if something goes wrong.’ ‘Aw,’ mocked Ron, ‘is she your girlfriend now? That’s so sweet I could choke.’ ‘Don’t be an arse ,’ said Harry, although his tone was light, and he picked something off the ground and chucked it at Ron. Ron ducked and laughed loudly. It felt good to be friends with Harry again. Neither of them would talk about it, just as they had never spoken about their fight in fourth year since they made up. Ron turned around and looked at the object Harry threw. It was small and squishy. Yellow. It looked like a duckling. ‘What is this?’ ‘It’s a rubber duck,’ answered Harry. ‘Haven’t you ever seen one before?’ Ron shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Is it a toy?’ ‘Kids put them in their baths to play with. They don’t really have a point except to float around in the bubbles.’ Ron studied the duck for a moment, giving it a squeeze. It squeaked loudly and Ron dropped it on the ground. ‘What the fuck was that?’ ‘It squeaked, Ron. It didn’t grow fangs and try to attack you,’ said Harry, standing up and picking the duck up. ‘Your dad collected some really weird shit. What’s in all these boxes?’ ‘Dunno. I never looked through them. I mean, it was my dad’s weird Muggle-obsession. Mum never let him keep anything in the house, y’know . She thought he might blow the house up before the twins with all those wires and things. I think some of this stuff he nicked from work when he had to go smooth stuff over with the Muggles. I know he had some house keys that used to dance around the kitchen table. And wizards don’t need keys when we have wands and all.’ ‘Would he care if we looked through these boxes?’ ‘What, you think he’s gonna come back from the grave and yell at me for opening up a few boxes patched up with Spellotape?’ Harry looked dumbstruck and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. ‘What?’ Harry closed his mouth and shook his head. ‘What?’ Ron asked again. ‘Nothing. Just can't believe you said that.’ Ron blinked a few times and then looked away. He hadn't meant it the way it came out, but, really, his father was dead. What would happen if they looked through his stuff? The worst would be Mrs Weasley yelling at them, but Ron doubted she'd come into the shed anyhow. ‘I didn’t want to talk about Cedric or Sirius or Dumbledore. So I’m not going to make you talk about this. Neither of us wants to have that conversation. I’ll leave that up to Hermione.’ ‘Thanks,’ said Ron, not able to sound as grateful as he truly was. ‘Can you open one of these boxes with your wand? I left mine in my room.’ Harry took his wand out of the back pocket of his jeans. He pointed it at the box he’d been sitting on and cut the tape. Both boys knelt down and peered into the box. It was full of cut-up Muggle newspapers. ‘“Exploding Toilet Bandit Strikes Again”,’ read Harry. ‘That sounds like one of the cases Dad worked on,’ said Ron. He silently read the article headings to himself. It didn’t take him long to realise they were mostly from cases his dad’s department had gone to straighten out while others were happenings that the Ministry had been forced to get involved in. They looked through the newspapers silently, passing the more humorous titles back and forth. Ron’s knees grew tired of kneeling so he sat down on the dirt, brushing the earth off his pyjama bottoms. ‘So ...’ said Harry. ‘How was having Hermione stay the night, then? Oh, “Disappearing Apple Trees Afflict Manchester”.’ ‘Hermione’s stayed the night loads of times.’ ‘Not in your room.’ ‘“Talking Lawn Gnomes Terrorise London Street.’" ‘Even when we were going after the Horcruxes you never spent the night with her in a room without me in it.’ ‘We didn’t have sex, if you really want to know.’ ‘No, I didn’t really want to know,’ said Harry, making a face. ‘You weren’t even curious?’ ‘“Infectious Laughter Sends Whole Town to Hospital". No, I suppose I was a little curious. Just because." ‘Well, we haven’t.’ ‘All right.’ ‘It would be weird to go into any detail with this, right?’ Harry nodded. ‘Probably.’ ‘I mean, we’ve both had experience, yeah? You and my sister - which I am going to pretend isn’t really happening - and me with Lavender and Hermione. Though, mostly Lavender.’ ‘I’d like to pretend that Lavender never happened so we can both just live happily in denial.’ Ron sniggered. ‘Right. Good plan. I’ll pretend Lavender never happened either.’ ‘And we both know Hermione pretends Lavender never happened. “Moviegoers Experience Nine Hour Time Loss”.’ ‘Seamus and Dean used to tell us all the details about their girlfriends,’ said Ron, remembering back to the days where the five of them used to sit around the boys’ dormitory, eating sweets from Honeydukes and drinking Firewhisky hidden inside bottles of pumpkin juice. Seamus and Dean tried to outdo one another, telling all about the girls they had gone off to snog with over the summers and holidays. It wasn’t until Dean proudly announced at the beginning of seventh year that he had officially ‘bagged his first bird’ over the summer that Ron realised just how much he hadn’t done with Lavender. And a good thing too, because she cried enough when they broke up. He didn’t need to have her crying over him calling their experiences ‘bagging a bird’. ‘Yeah. I never had much to say on the subject.’ ‘Not even with Cho?’ Harry shook his head. ‘Definitely not. All she ever did was cry. Right annoying, that is. Though, I don’t think I really helped the situation. I was rubbish with girls.’ ‘Looks like you still are if you’re having fights with Ginny. “Local Shop-owner Claims to Sell Genuine Self-Loading Rifles”.’ ‘Stupid fight, that. She didn’t want your mum to perform the Fidelius Charm.’ ‘But you did anyway?’ ‘Not yet,’ said Harry. ‘She stormed out of the room and then I came out here. I don’t want anyone to know I’m alive. I can’t really explain it.’ ‘Try,’ said Ron, beginning to feel annoyed with Harry again over his ‘death’. Harry put down the newspaper in his hand and rubbed his eyes. ‘I lost a year with your sister,’ he began. ‘She could hardly have come with us since she couldn’t do magic outside of Hogwarts. She’s clever, but I don’t think she could have helped me the way you and Hermione could. Besides, she threw herself into researching things for Hermione when we were all gone so she did help.’ ‘Harry,’ interrupted Ron, ‘I know all this shit already.’ ‘Right. Well, I lost a year with her. And, really, I lost seventeen years with my parents and those years I’ll never get back. I lived in a cupboard with the Dursleys for eleven years. Then as soon as I went to Hogwarts I had to start fighting for my life and trying not to get killed. It seems like I haven’t been able to quite live my life the way I want to live it. I’ve always had something in my fucking way. Voldemort mainly, but the Dursleys didn’t really help. Now I can do what I want and live without people bothering me. In a few months I can actually pick up a newspaper without seeing my name somewhere in it. D’you understand the sort of freedom I have now?’ ‘You realise that you’re going to be pretty lonely if you can never make another friend again without my mother telling them you’re alive first? No one wants to be friends with a dead bloke.’ ‘You’re friends with a dead bloke. “Book Attacks Group of Students at Highgate Day School”.’ ‘So you never with Ginny?’ ‘Never what?’ Ron didn’t answer the question. ‘“Pencil Writes Term Paper for University Student”.’ ‘When d’you think I would’ve had time for that?’ ‘After you get married, I hope.’ ‘Oh, don’t hand me that shit, Ron,’ said Harry with a laugh. ‘You’re acting like you never came close with Lavender or something. Waiting until marriage? When have you ever thought about that?’ ‘Well, I haven’t ,’ admitted Ron. ‘And I was close with Lavender, but not really. I never would have let myself do that. I felt guilty for things I let her do anyway. Well, not at first, but later. Of course once I started ignoring her we didn’t do much of anything anymore.’ ‘You didn’t ignore her – you hid from her.’ ‘She was suffocating me!’ ‘You spend far more time with Hermione than you ever did with Lavender and never whine about her.’ Ron chose to ignore Harry’s statement. Instead he asked, ‘D’you think you’re gonna go through with the Fidelius Charm?’ ‘Dunno. I might hold off for a bit until I see just how angry Ginny is going to get over it. There’re only a couple weeks before she goes back to school and I won't get to see her. I’d rather not have her hacked off before she leaves.’ ‘You can visit her, can’t you?’ ‘Sure, at Hogsmeade visits.’ ‘Too bad you can’t teach or something.’ ‘It’s too soon,’ said Harry, ‘but as long as I’m dating Ginny, McGonagall wouldn't let me anyway. She practically told me that towards the end of last term. She asked if I still wanted to be an Auror. I said I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but after the DA I thought teaching might be rather fun. She shot down that idea, though.’ Ron sniggered again. ‘Say, Ron? I know we’ve never been quite like Seamus and Dean and telling each other about girls, but ...’ ‘But what, Harry?’ ‘Nothing. Never mind.’ ‘You’re not going to get mushy on me, are you?’ asked Ron, giving Harry a disgusted look. ‘No, don’t be an idiot. Is there anything else in the box?’ ‘No, I think that’s the last of the newspapers.’ Harry nodded. He waved his wand and sent all the clippings back inside the box. Ron pulled another one towards him and set it on his lap. It was small and covered in tape. The bottom part of the box looked as though it had been stained with water. Harry waved his wand again and cut the tape off the box. Ron opened it and looked inside. Without being able to help himself, he laughed again. Using his hands to dig around inside the box, Ron counted each item. ‘What’s in there?’ asked Harry. Ron tilted the box so Harry could look inside. ‘Twenty-four rubber ducks,’ he answered. When they both looked up at one another, they began to laugh. XXXXXXX After lunch, Harry and Ginny went for a walk. Ron knew how that walk would likely end so he stayed clear of the back garden and by the lake. As much as he truly didn’t mind his best mate dating his sister, he didn’t want to see them doing those typical dating-type-things. Going back upstairs to his bedroom, Ron looked at his reflection in the mirror above his chest of drawers. It was a fairly small mirror, but was quite snarky , always telling him to fix his hair or tuck in his shirt. On his chin was a very light stubble. His facial hair had never come in as bright red as his hair had. It almost looked blonde, though last summer Hermione had commented how the sun really lightened up his hair, so perhaps his facial hair wasn’t so oddly coloured after all. Hermione never asked him to shave, though he usually did anyway. For some reason he felt too old with too much hair, like a true adult. He had had to act as one when the three of them were completely on their own, hunting Horcruxes and fending for themselves, but now he had the chance to be an eighteen-year-old bloke again. Whenever he didn’t shave, Hermione would lightly rub her fingers across his cheeks and chin and smile to herself. Ron had no idea why stubble would make anyone smile, but sometimes he purposefully left it alone just to see that smile cross Hermione’s face. Looking at the hairs poking out of his chin, Ron just couldn’t decide if he should shave or not. He told his mother he was going to visit some friends at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. She didn’t press the issue too much, but Ron didn’t want to hear her squeal over him meeting Hermione’s parents for dinner. He’d met them before, of course, but never as Hermione’s boyfriend. Always as Hermione’s tall, lanky friend with the crazy family and Muggle-obsessed father. This was something very new to him. He hadn’t had to meet Lavender’s parents, thank Merlin, so he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act. The Dursleys didn’t deserve his respect so treating them with kindness was hardly an issue. Otherwise, the adults he had frequent contact with were professors. Did he interact with the Grangers the same way he interacted with McGonagall or Sprout? In the note, Hermione told him not to get stressed out. He was beyond stressed out now. What sort of clothes did one wear to meet the parents? It would have to be Muggle clothes in case they didn’t stay to eat at the Leaky Cauldron. Oh, crap, what if Hermione took him to a real Muggle restaurant? Did Muggles eat the same foods as wizards? Did they have chocolate pudding at the end of dinner? Ron flopped down on his bed. This was stupid. Why should he be stressed out? Hermione’s parents liked him before. They thought he was funny, which he was, although usually in a very sarcastic way. No, this meal would be easy. Ron just had to convince himself that everything would go smoothly and work out for the best. He knew he couldn’t worry about little things, like not having a job or not having his own house. He was eighteen. He was young. There would be plenty of time to really prove to the Grangers that he was right for their daughter. This wasn’t a meeting for them to assess if he was proper marriage material. This was simply a meeting for them to get to know the boyfriend a little bit better. Nothing to stress out about. Laughing to himself, Ron knew there was no amount of reassurance he could give himself to make him any less nervous, but Hermione was going to be a part of his life for years to come and one dinner wouldn't change that. Ron set his alarm clock to go off at five o'clock. That would give him plenty of time to shower and find something decent to wear before Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron. XXXXXXX Fred and George had always told him that a couple shots of Firewhisky could calm down the most nervous of men. Right now Ron wished he could start drinking. His palms were sweaty and he couldn’t keep his leg from shaking. After his shower, he’d chosen a green polo shirt and a pair of jeans without any rips or holes. He’d used up all his time deciding between jeans and khaki trousers, but opted to look more casual, hoping that would also help him feel more comfortable. The Leaky Cauldron was busy and Ron sat down at the corner of the bar, hoping no one recognised him. The pub and restaurant was very loud, everyone’s conversations melding together, becoming one large roar of noise. Trays filled with plates of food levitated to the tables. Once the witches and wizards took their meals, the empty trays would rise into the air again and go back behind two swinging doors into the kitchen. It made for a very busy scene. Ron spotted Hermione and her parents coming in from the Diagon Alley entrance before the barkeeper had a chance to come over and ask him if he wanted a drink. He hadn’t remembered Hermione’s father looking quite so big. Even from the distance, Ron estimated he was almost as tall as him, but much thicker and stronger. Suddenly wanting to hide, Ron hoped her father wouldn't have any excuse after dinner to use that strength. As soon as Hermione spotted him, she immediately sifted her way through the crowd to meet him. Ron stood up and wanted to kiss her when she drew near, but knew her parents were watching so he just looked at her instead. Hermione grinned at him and took his hand. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ she whispered. ‘It’s only dinner.’ ‘Right.’ Before her parents managed to get to the bar, three wizards cut them off and immediately began asking Ron and Hermione questions. ‘What did it feel like to fight against You Know Who?’ ‘Are you really heroes?’ ‘My daughter fancies you. Will you autograph this for me?’ Ron groaned. The wizards were all adults; they had grey hair, long beards, and expensive-looking robes. Their wands were tucked neatly inside silver and gold carrying cases. These wizards were cultured. They knew better than to question them. ‘Did you see Harry Potter die?’ ‘What was that like?’ ‘I heard you didn’t go to the funeral.’ ‘I read that in the Daily Prophet.’ Ron held on to Hermione’s hand more tightly and said, ‘Let’s leave.’ She nodded and pointed to the door that emptied out into the London street. Her parents took the hint and headed out of the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Hermione had to quickly make their exit, dodging questions and pushing parchment and quills out of their way. Once outside, Hermione pulled Ron down the sidewalk, her parents following. She didn’t stop until the Leaky Cauldron was out of view. Ron could hear the tapping of Mrs Granger’s high heeled shoes against the pavement behind him. Mr Granger’s walk was more of a shuffle and he kept clearing his throat with little coughs. ‘Good grief,’ said Mrs Granger when they all had stopped walking, ‘is it always like that when you’re out?’ Hermione shook her head. ‘No one bothered me when I was in the bookstore.’ She looked up at Ron. ‘I think we're more noticeable when we're together.’ ‘Probably. When d’you think it'll die down?’ Hermione shrugged. ‘I wish I knew.’ ‘Bloody annoying, that was.’ Mr Granger laughed and Ron suddenly realised what he had said. The heat rose to the back of his neck and he prayed that his ears weren’t turning red. ‘Does this mean we can eat in one of our restaurants instead?’ ‘Sure, Dad,’ said Hermione. ‘I know that’s what you wanted to do in the first place.’ Mr Granger grinned. He held out his hand to Ron. ‘It’s good to see you again.’ Ron had to let go of Hermione to shake her father’s hand. ‘Same here. Are you still putting dams in people’s mouths?’ Mr Granger laughed loudly again. ‘Dams? I think you mean bridges.’ ‘Oh, right. I knew it was something like that. Bridges and hats?’ ‘Crowns.’ ‘Bridges and crowns,’ repeated Ron. ‘Right.’ ‘Hermione reminds us all the time that our work is boring,’ said Mrs Granger. ‘Oh, I do not!’ Hermione denied. ‘We won't make you listen to boring things like cleaning teeth or anything else like that. We’re sure you don’t know anything about dentistry anyway.’ ‘Well, I do brush my teeth, but that’s about all I know about teeth. Except once my brother gave me some orange rose leaves and they stained my teeth orange and green for a week.’ Mr Granger laughed again. Ron wondered if his humour was on target tonight or if Hermione’s dad was trying to be polite. ‘There’s a charming pasta place two streets over,’ Hermione’s mum said. ‘Why don’t we go there? Your father always has to buy a bottle of their house wine. The owners have a vineyard somewhere in Italy and make it themselves.’ ‘That sounds lovely, Mum.’ Hermione allowed her parents to lead the way. She stayed several feet back and retook Ron’s hand in hers. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she whispered. ‘My parents wanted to meet you the first opportunity they had.’ ‘They’ve met me before.’ Hermione smiled. ‘It’s not the same.’ ‘Right.’ ‘You made my dad laugh! You can’t still possibly be nervous, can you? They like you. My mum has always said she thinks you’re rather handsome.’ Ron wanted to laugh. Rather handsome? That was quite a compliment. Mrs Granger reminded Ron of Madam Rosmerta, only not as top-heavy. Her hair was pulled back in much the same way, messy but purposefully so. She was quite attractive and looked a lot Hermione. For some reason, Ron had always liked the way mature women looked. They had a confidence and air about them that girls didn’t have. It took Hermione several years to grow into the face and body she had now, which was very pretty in Ron’s opinion. If she continued to age this way, then Ron could see her looking much like her mum, still young in the eyes, but with laugh lines around her mouth that told the truth about her real age. ‘Have you ever been to a Muggle restaurant, Ron?’ ‘No.’ ‘They don’t have pumpkin juice.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Or Firewhisky or Butterbeer.’ ‘Right.’ Ron paused. ‘So what do I drink?’ ‘Plain coke?’ ‘What is that?’ ‘You’ll like it. When the waiter comes by and asks what we all want to drink, tell him plain coke, all right?’ Ron nodded. ‘Are you sure they don’t have pumpkin juice?’ Hermione stopped walking. She glanced at her parents, who continued towards a restaurant at the end of the street with tables outside covered with red tablecloths. ‘Why’d you stop?’ ‘My parents will get us a table.’ Hermione kept her eyes on them until they disappear inside the small restaurant. She turned her face towards Ron and smiled. ‘I’m sure they don’t have pumpkin juice.’ ‘You stopped walking to tell me that?’ Hermione laughed. ‘No, silly.’ She put her hands around his neck and pulled him down towards her. ‘I stopped so I could kiss you.’ They’d never kissed in public before. It gave Ron a rush of tingly feelings throughout his body. Her lips were soft and light on his, and even though the kiss was chaste, Ron couldn’t help but feel turned-on. When Hermione pulled away, Ron opened his eyes. He breathed through his mouth and couldn’t help but glance down; Hermione’s white v-neck shirt was cut just low enough that he could see the tops of her breasts and the dark crevice of her cleavage. Being taller than her had a great advantage right there. ‘That’s a great shirt.’ Hermione rolled her eyes playfully and walked down the sidewalk towards the restaurant. Inside, the tables had candles in the middle and baskets of bread and butter. Most wizard restaurants were dimmer than this one, but Ron still had to adjust his eyes to the lack of light. They sat at a booth near a piano where an older man played songs that were familiar to Mr and Mrs Granger, but completely lost on Ron. The silverware was rolled up inside red cloth napkins, the same colour as the tablecloths. It was the sort of place Ron would have thought to be for couples, but as he looked around him, families and groups of friends sat around at the tables. He chalked it up to the Muggle world being different from the one he was used to. Dinner went smoothly. Ron didn’t feel as though he was there to be judged or interviewed. Hermione’s parents asked him questions about the wizarding world, but skipped over anything involving his family or the war. They asked him about school and his professors. Ron found himself returning the questions, quite intrigued over how Muggles did things. He never thought to ask Hermione about things in such detail because she knew magic better than he did, but the fact that her parents had a machine that cleaned their dirty dishes for them was pure madness. He asked them if they knew how airplanes stayed up in the air, but they laughed and said there was just some things even they didn’t know. That was slightly disappointing; for some reason, Ron had really hoped they would know the answer because it seemed to important to find out since his father had always been fascinated with how airplanes flew. At the end of the meal, Hermione insisted on ordering chocolate pudding and shared it with Ron. When her hand wasn’t holding her fork, it was resting on Ron’s thigh in a reassuring manner. Hermione’s father paid the tab, even though Ron tried to at least pay for his own meal. The four of them went outside to the sidewalk. It was officially night time and the air was still, the sky dark, and the moon shining brightly. ‘It was good to see you, Ron,’ said Mr Granger. ‘Yes,’ agreed Mrs Granger. ‘I hope you come with Hermione one weekend when she comes to visit us at our beach house.’ Ron was surprised at the invitation, but smiled and nodded. ‘The car’s a few streets away,’ said Mr Granger, looking at his daughter. ‘I’ll walk with Ron back to the Leaky Cauldron. He has to Apparate home and he can’t do it out in the open. I’ll Apparate later. You two go on home.’ Mr Granger narrowed his eyes but nodded and put his arm around his wife’s shoulders as they turned and walked away. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ asked Hermione. Ron shook his head. ‘No, not really.’ ‘Now you’ll have to come to the beach when I go.’ ‘Sure,’ said Ron, although his tone was noncommittal. ‘I never noticed how much like your mum you look.’ ‘I have my dad’s hair and eye colour,’ said Hermione. ‘Did you like my parents?’ ‘I’ve met them before.’ ‘I know ...’ Ron nodded. ‘Yes, I liked them. They’re nice.’ ‘I think they really liked you.’ ‘Didn’t they like me before?’ ‘I suppose,’ said Hermione, ‘but it’s different now, isn’t it?’ ‘Is it?’ Hermione sighed. ‘You don’t understand--’ ‘I understand perfectly,’ said Ron. ‘When we were friends it didn’t matter if they liked me. But now it matters. Your parents are a bit nutters , though, fixing people’s teeth. I reckon it’s not the most exciting job to have.’ ‘They like it, but I wouldn't. I need something more intellectually challenging.’ Ron smiled. ‘You’re such a bookworm.’ ‘Come on, we need to get to Diagon Alley. I’m tired.’ Hermione began to walk back towards the Leaky Cauldron. ‘Are you going to be able to fall asleep tonight?’ ‘I don’t know. I’m not tired. I might need you to help me get tired.’ ‘Ron!’ cried Hermione in a scandalous tone, but the smile on her face suggested she wasn’t altogether annoyed by his comment. Ron stopped walking. He breathed in deeply, getting whiffs of the scents from the different restaurants on the street. Hermione took a few steps backwards and stood in front of Ron. Her eyes looked up at him; they were round and a deep brown. A slow breeze picked up, moving the hair away from Hermione’s face. ‘Hey,’ said Ron, ‘were you worried your parents wouldn't like me?’ ‘No, why would I be?’ ‘They could have disapproved or something.’ ‘I knew they wouldn't. You’re such a sweet man. I knew they would see that.’ Hermione had just called him a man. Ron wanted to smile, but he forced himself not to. This was a very serious conversation they were having and his silly antics had no place here. ‘Are you really tired?’ ‘A bit,’ answered Hermione. ‘Why? Do you want me to come over? We could get started studying for NEWTs.’ ‘Oi, Hermione! You’re killing me! I am definitely not thinking about any ruddy tests.’ ‘Professor McGonagall came to my house today,’ said Hermione, wetting her lips. ‘What?’ ‘She asked me to come work at Hogwarts. There’s a shortage of professors at the moment and the enrolment is very small again. It’ll only be for the year until I can take my NEWTs and apply for a job with the Ministry. Professor McGonagall said she’s not concerned that I haven’t taken my tests and wants me to teach Defence and Transfiguration. I’m not nearly as good as her, but she has enough work being Headmistress. She’ll teach the OWL and NEWT level classes, but I’ll take the first- through third-years.’ ‘Is this good news?’ ‘It’s a job. I can use the Hogwarts library while I study for the NEWTs. I think it’s good news. Don’t you?’ ‘Sure,’ said Ron, although he wasn’t sure if it really was or not. They’d had to put their physical relationship on hold for a year. And now, in less than a month, Hermione wanted to put another hold on it while she went to Hogwarts? Ron wanted her to take the job, he really did. He knew she'd be really great at teaching; she was so clever and always helped him with his homework so that he understood. Something inside of him wanted to remain selfish and wanted her to stay with him. ‘Well you certainly cannot act any more supportive than you are right now,’ snapped Hermione in the most sarcastic tone Ron had ever heard from her as she crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I was just thinking about what you said. It’s great, really.’ ‘Don’t sound so happy about it.’ ‘I am happy for you.’ Ron sighed. ‘I just wish you weren’t going to go away.’ ‘You make it sound as though I’m leaving indefinitely. There are job openings in Hogsmeade.’ ‘Hogsmeade barely exists.’ ‘They’re looking for people to rebuild, to go through the rubbish and debris and salvage things that can be saved and then rebuild the shops and restaurants.’ ‘Really?’ Hermione nodded. ‘You could stay in a flat there. I’m fairly certain there are several that weren’t destroyed. I would come visit and we could spend the weekends together. I told Professor McGonagall I would probably try to help with the rebuilding if I could. Parts of Hogwarts were damaged during the war as well and need to be patched up and fixed. It’ll take several months to clean up and rebuild Hogsmeade, even with magic.’ Ron’s ears were picking up Hermione’s voice but he was hardly listening to her. He’d stopped as soon as she told him they could spend the weekends together. If he had his own flat that would open up a whole new chamber of possibilities for their relationship, none of which seemed bad. Thinking about the things they could finally get to do made Ron want her all the more right then. As though possessed by all his randy feelings, Ron kissed Hermione hard, taking no mind of the people walking past them. She seemed to melt into him, pressing her body against his. After only a few seconds, Hermione pushed him back, breathing in deeply as though she was trying to catch her breath. ‘Ron.’ ‘Sorry. Why don’t you come over. We’ll finish things there.’ Hermione shook her head. ‘No, your sister saw me this morning, I think, as I was getting ready to Apparate back home.’ ‘So? Just leave as soon as I fall asleep.’ ‘That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think?’ ‘When your parents go off for their holiday, I’ll come over whenever you want me to.’ Hermione’s eyes seemed to be focused on his mouth. She blushed when she noticed he was staring at her. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll come over, but only for an hour.’ Ron grinned. ‘Great!’ Somehow he knew that she would stay for much longer than an hour, but after everything they had gone through the past year, they deserved a little private time. Ron walked as quickly as he dared back towards the Leaky Cauldron, his hand holding Hermione’s. Even if he sprinted, Ron didn’t think he could get there fast enough. The need to kiss and touch her was overwhelming. For the first time in the past few weeks, Ron was actually excited to go home.
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