A/N; I do not own anything you recognise.


Chapter one; Home

An amazing magical force seemed to exhale from the cup, giving it an aura of un-touchability. They were circling it, trying to figure out what to do. All three were already bearing the marks of their efforts to reach this particular Horcrux. Entering the Malfoy Mansion hadn’t been an easy business. The house was protected by many charms and, as it was owned by a very well known family of Death Eaters, it was very likely that they would meet some of them.

They planned their visit for when they knew the mansion would be empty, but the time was still limited. They were trying to keep their mission a secret from Voldemort as much as humanly possible but entering one of his closest servant’s house undetected…

It took the trio more than one hour just to enter the house and another half hour to reach the secret compartment hidden under the drawing room floor. They descended the stairs and found a room entirely lit with torches of green fire, which gave everything a macabre look. The circular room wasn’t very big. Strange objects were perched on shelves and others were hanging from the ceiling. Harry, Ron and Hermione immediately started to look around, careful not to touch anything in there. It was Hermione who found the hidden door beside a particularly weird looking stone owl that seemed to stare at her wherever she went.

That’s where they were now. The room was smaller than the previous one and there was only the cup on a stool in the middle of the circular space. Everything was lit in green. Nobody was talking. The three of them were standing around the cup, observing the powerful aura radiating from it. After a few minutes, Harry raised his wand and the other followed his lead.

“On the count of three,� he said.

Before he got to say “two,� the green lighting of the room gained intensity as if someone had lit ten more torches. It lasted about five seconds before returning to normal. Everyone started to look around trying to find the source of the disturbance. The walls were made of stone and completely bare except for the wooden door, which was still open. They all stood there, very still, eying each other’s rigid faces. Hermione gasped silently as footsteps echoed over their heads. They hurried out of the room, closed the door and listened intensely. If they were about to be found, it would be better if their assailant didn’t see them around the Horcrux. The purpose of their visit to the mansion would be a little less obvious this way.

Everything was silent. The only sound audible was Ron’s quickened breathing. Hermione looked at Harry, pointed her wand and then her left forearm. He nodded. She then performed a circular motion of her wand over her head along with an un-spoken charm. This particular bit of magic was designed to identify the position of any Death Eater within fifteen yards. It wasn’t a surprise to any of them when one bright red spot appeared in the air. There was one Death Eater in the mansion and he was apparently in the drawing room over their heads, just a little right from the trap door leading to the hidden space.

They couldn’t talk and try to improvise a strategy. Whoever was here, and they suspected it was Draco, would certainly hear them. Ron’s mind was racing. Strategies were mainly his responsibility. Should they try to get Malfoy to enter the room, so they would have a chance to get him as soon as he would set foot on that first step? Should someone go first trough the trap door, trying to take him by surprise? But Malfoy shouldn’t be here just now. He was supposed to be with the other Death Eaters all afternoon. Why was he home already?

He couldn’t go any further in his thoughts. A faint creaking sound came from the trap door and before he could even look up, a huge exploding force knocked him to the ground. He heard Hermione scream and Harry hexing. His own head had just hit the floor with much force and he was dizzy, his eyes couldn’t focus on the surroundings. But what he heard made his stomach contract madly. It was indeed Draco’s voice. He tried to get to his feet but stumbled and fell over almost immediately. Flashes of green light met with red ones. Objects were crashing on the floor everywhere, sending bits and parts flying around him. Three voices were shouting hexes, unforgivable curses and defensive spells. Everything was confused. The room was almost filled with smoke and dust. It was harder and harder to see in the restrained space. He managed to take control of his arm and aimed at the figure sending jets of green light. Only two figures were engaged in a furious duel now. Why wasn’t Hermione helping Harry? He knew the two duellers were Malfoy and his best friend. The indistinct figures were too tall to be her.

He corrected his aim and stupefixed Malfoy at once. The young Death Eater wasn’t ready for this attack. Maybe he thought that Ron had been put out of fight by the first blast he sent from the top of the stairs. He heard a thump as Malfoy’s body hit the ground and then a complete silence filled the room. A moment later, the dust began to fall and Ron got up standing once again. He had to put one hand on the wall to maintain his balance. The first thing he saw was Harry making sure that Draco wouldn’t annoy them again, adding other spells to keep him quiet while they would take care of that Horcrux. The silence made the redhead uncomfortable. Where was she? Ron began to walk slowly around the room, still a bit unbalanced by the shock. Each of his steps produced crunching sounds as he walked over bits of various objects littering the floor.

He soon saw her. A dark form lay on the ground near the door leading to the second room. He kneeled slowly next to her and put her head on his lap. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth fixed in an indescribable form. She was probably in the middle of a spell when it hit her.

Afraid, very afraid, of what he could find out, Ron reached for one of her wrists. He was desperately searching for a pulse when Harry sat on Hermione’s other side, taking her other hand. After one very long minute, Ron gave up. He bent down, resting his forehead against hers, a silent tear running down his cheek. Near Hermione’s head lay the strange stone owl on its side, with one broken wing. Its great grey eyes still looking at her.

***

A year later, those memories were still very painful for both Harry and Ron. Of course, they knew all along that the death of one, two or even all three of them was likely to happen at some point, considering what they intended to do but it still came as a shock. The worst was that they couldn’t take time to dwell on Hermione’s death inside the Malfoy Mansion. Time was precious and they were mere meters from a Horcrux. They had to leave her lifeless body on the stone floor and proceed to destroy the Hocrux. Hermione would have told them to do so, if she had still been alive. It was Ron who finally managed to melt the cup, puffy eyed and shaking with anger. They then modified Malfoy’s memory and brought Hermione’s body back to her family.

The tall redhead blinked twice, trying to erase the images of that day from his mind. He was on his back on one of the Knight Bus beds on his way home. He wanted to use this time to think calmly before going to the Burrow. Voldemort had been finally destroyed just a week before and Harry and he needed a little more time to heal and rest before going back to ‘a normal life,’ if such a thing really exists. Harry was not with him. He claimed he needed a little more time with himself and to be honest, Ron was pleased with that decision. They were still best friends, but it appeared very clearly that some time apart would be welcomed by both sides. Ron was feeling empty. Empty of energy, of strength, of life. Of hope. Those battles took a lot from both of them and it would take a long time to regenerate all that was lost.

It was nearly 11 PM when the Knight Bus finally stopped with a loud ‘bang’ in front of the Burrow. The air was fresh and light in this May evening as he stood in the alley leading to his home. He could hear the wind ruffling the leaves on the trees nearby softly and the same wind on his cheeks. He hadn’t took the time to appreciated those little things in such a long time that he stood there for a few minutes, observing his home, the handle of his trunk in his hand. Only one light was visible through the windows. Someone was still awake in the kitchen.

He made his way to the front door, breathed deeply one or two times and pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was his mother. She was standing right in front of him, crying, and holding her famous clock. Ron’s needle was pointing ‘home’.

Mrs. Weasley was very relieved that her youngest son was finally here. She thought that he would have come home right after Voldemort was defeated and was a little disappointed when she received the owl saying that he would be there a bit later, that he needed time to himself first. But that was all forgotten now; he was home, at last.

Ron convinced his mother to wait for the morning to come before telling all the others he was here. There was no point in waking everybody up and he, himself, needed some sleep. When she looked deeply in his eyes, she saw things only a mother could see and agreed with him. The good news could wait until tomorrow. She conjured him a cup of hot chocolate and kissed him on the cheek before sending him to his room. She observed him very carefully as he climbed the stairs. Her son had changed. His left arm seemed stiff, his skin paler and she was pretty sure that he was also a bit skinnier. When she heard him close his door, she sighed deeply and went back to sit in the kitchen. She was wondering if giving him the letters on the very night of his return was a good idea.

“Maybe he won’t see them,� she said to herself.

Upstairs, Ron dropped his trunk in a corner of his room and sat on the edge of his bed. Everything looked exactly the same. He watched the players on his posters waving at him while drinking his hot chocolate. Pig’s cage wasn’t in the room. He left his owl to Ginny before going with Harry and Hermione. The only other thing different was that there were no clothes on the floor or on the back of the chair of his desk. His mother obviously kept the room clean in his absence; there was no dust and the sheets of his bed seemed freshly washed. Another thing caught his eye. On the corner of his desk, neatly piled, were a few letters. He got to his feet and saw a little note on top of the envelopes.

Mr. Weasley,

We found those letters addressed to you in Hermione’s belongings. It was only fair they were returned to you.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger

Setting the cup of chocolate on the desk, Ron took the letters in his hand and counted them with trembling fingers. Four. Hermione wrote him four letters and never sent them. He gazed at them. Each one had his name on the envelope neatly written. She wrote to him. That thought seemed to be reluctant to enter his mind. He stood there, immobile, for almost five minutes. There is not point to those letters now. It won’t change the past. It won’t bring her back. With that last thought, he opened a drawer of his desk, dropped the stack of letters in it and pushed it closed roughly with his palm.

Turning his back to the desk, he undressed, dropping his clothes on the floor and slipped in bed. He extinguished the lights with a little wave of his wand and the room went dark. He tried to make himself comfortable in his bed and closed his eyes. It won’t bring her back, he thought again, frowning.


A/N; I love to hear from you, by the way, so reviews are really appreciated and helpful... Especially since this is not the typical R/Hr romantic kind of story. I'd really like to know how people react to it.

This story is already fully written and is five chapters long. I'm thinking of adding one more chapter somewhere in the middle, to explain a few more things. I'll ask my very helpful beta what he thinks about that. I'll be posting the chapters regularly so you won't have to wait too long for the updates....

A/N; I do not own anything you recognise


Chapter 2 – Dear Stupid Ron

The next morning, every Weasley present at the Burrow was overjoyed with Ron’s return. He spent most of his first day home just being with his family, talking with them. He sent an owl to Bill and another to Charlie so they wouldn’t be left out of the good news. Other than that, he didn’t do much. If you don’t count eating, that is. Mrs. Weasley must have thought that he didn’t eat enough on his own, because there was always food in front of him. His plate was particularly full at regular meals and wherever he was sitting; his room, the drawing room or the garden, he always found cookies, fruits or juice nearby.

He missed his family a lot since he left with Harry and Hermione. During the long months away from home he tried to shut those feelings from his brain to remain focused on their mission and the different tasks to accomplish. The food cooked by three young adults on their own for the first time was not always great and the meals soon became like a routine. There wasn’t much variety in the menu as it was hard to please everyone’s taste and none of them had a very extensive prior cooking experience.

It would not be fair to say that the only thing Ron missed from home was the food. Now that he was surrounded by his relatives once again, it was obvious to him that his family meant much more to him. He was very grateful to be back.

A few days later, the family received a visit from Hedwig. She arrived just before lunch and Mrs. Weasley had been pretty quick in snatching the letter. Ginny and Ron were also present but the twins and Mr. Weasley were at their respective jobs. The youngest Weasley gave a little piece of the crackers she was putting on the table to Hedwig and the beautiful owl hooted softly as a thank you before leaving through the kitchen window. It was a very short note from Harry saying that they should not expect him for ten days or more. Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply. She didn’t voice it but everybody could tell she was worried. At least she would stop asking Ron when Harry would come now. Ginny looked disappointed too.

After the meal, Ron announced that he was going for a walk. This was not unusual. He had done this almost everyday since his return. Mrs. Weasley approved of this new habit. It was, in her opinion, better than staying in the house and she was also hoping that some fresh air would bring back some colour to her son’s cheeks. Only this afternoon, Ginny asked if she could come with him. He agreed and she quickly went to her room to pick up a jacket. They left through the back door and crossed the garden.

It was a moody day outside. The sky was covered in thick grey clouds and from time to time a little mist would fall from them. Just enough to keep the ground a bit moist. The brother-sister pair walked silently up to the edge of the forest. Ron was lost in his thoughts. The path they were following was now very familiar to him. Ginny was also thinking and shooting looks at her brother occasionally.

They were now going uphill and it was misting again. Once they reached the top of the hill, Ginny grabbed her brother’s arm to stop him. She needed a few minutes to catch her breath and he looked like he could use them too. He leaned against a tree panting slightly. A few moments later, he started to walk again and Ginny followed. Once she caught up with him, she asked, “Ron, how is Harry really doing?�

He seemed to think for a moment before answering.

“He’s doing ok, I guess. He just needs a little more time to adjust to the idea.�

“What idea?�

“That this is finally over, I think,� he responded. “He’s been facing Voldemort since he was born, you know, and now it’s over. From the little he told me, he has trouble moving on to the next phase. In fact, he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life now.�

“But, he will come back, won’t he? He will come home, no?�

“I’m sure he will, don’t worry. Maybe not permanently, though,� Ron answered. He too wouldn’t admit that he was a little bit worried about his best friend. If he himself wasn’t feeling too good, it must be five times worst for him. He had to do most of the last battle alone, after all.

“Do you know where he is?� Ginny had been restraining herself all week from asking her brother too many questions but they seemed to just pop out of her mouth now.

“No.�

“Was he hurt?�

“His right leg caught a really bad hex in the early times, courtesy of Dolohov, and he had difficulty walking for two weeks. The healers at St. Mungos told him he was lucky that it was only a leg and not his thorax or his head. It still hurts him occasionally but it’s much better now. Other than that, he has some new scars but nothing major.�

Ginny opened her mouth to ask yet another question, but when she saw that Ron was now looking away from her, at the trees to his right, she closed it quietly.

They continued to walk silently and were now on their way back home. It took a good ten minutes before either of them spoke again.

“What about you, Ron?�

“What about me?�

“How are you doing?� she asked, observing him.

“I’m doing ok. I mean, I’m doing better. I’ll get there,� he added a moment later.

Ginny tried to catch his eyes. “Do you miss her?�

He refused to look at his sister and simply stared at the ground. They were about to enter the garden when she grabbed his forearm again and forced him to face her.

“Ron?�

“I miss her a lot,� he said very low, meeting briefly with her eyes before heading home once again.

“You should give those letters a chance,� she called after him.

He stopped dead in his track. “How do you know?�

“I was with mum when the muggle mailman came.�

Ron didn’t add anything and went back inside the house to dry himself with a towel. It was true that the letters were addressed to ‘Mr. Weasley’ so his father probably opened the package before realizing the mistake. Did it mean that everybody knew about it? His brothers too?

Later that evening, Ron opened the drawer of his desk and took out the pile of letters. He went to sit on his bed and dropped them on his bedside table. He couldn’t bring himself to break the seal of the first envelope. Not tonight. He laid flat on his back, looking at the ceiling. He fell asleep long after that, fully dressed and still studying the cracks and bumps above him.

He finally ripped open the parchment envelope the next night. It had rained all day and he was so bored that it gave him a great deal of time to think. His curiosity won over his determination to put the past behind him. He came to the conclusion that he could read the first one and that it wasn’t because he read one that he would have to read them all.

Rain was still tapping on the window of his bedroom when his eyes landed on the first words.

Dear stupid Ron,

I guarantee you that if I was the kind of girl to swear, this is what I would be doing just now. You infuriate me so much sometimes. How dare you ruin this evening to me? And accuse me of supporting the ‘enemy’! I can assure you that I am 100% behind Harry and I cannot believe that you would doubt that.

I had to resort to writing to you because talking clearly isn’t effective. I just don’t know what to think just now. I just don’t get it. How can you be mad? You just had to ask me to the ball before Viktor, that’s all. If anything, you should be mad at yourself. And you shouldn’t vent on me, I might add.

I would have said ‘yes’, by the way. I am not sure we would have lasted the entire evening without bickering but I’m sure we would have had fun.

This is just sad, Ron. You should really come clean with yourself and sort out those unhealthy feelings you seem to experience this year. Like when you wouldn’t talk to Harry after he was declared the fourth champion of the tournament. He has a lot on his shoulders and he deeply needs your support. I saw it when you two weren’t on speaking terms. And you need him too. You two definitely make a unique pair.

My point is that you should take a good look in the mirror. I don’t want to have to point things out for you all the way to seventh year. In one point of your life, you will be on your own and it would be nice if we didn’t have to bite each other’s head off to get you there. Just give it a try.

Hermione

P.S It’s been a week now and I still haven’t given you this letter. Probably because I’m sure that it would start another fight between us. I don’t think you would appreciate me trying to give you ‘life advice’… Maybe someday.

Ron lay back against the wall. She was right, as always. Back then, he would not have been happy at all to receive such a letter. Maybe he did needed to come clean with some of his feelings, but that was not her job to tell him to do so. She was supposed to be his friend. Now that those silly events seemed to be ages ago, his perspective was different and he was thinking that she was quite right. It’s not easy to admit it of course, but true nonetheless.

This short letter gave Ron a lot to thing about. Maybe he would read the others, but not tonight. It was getting late and his eyes were starting to burn.



A/N; So this is chapter two everybody. This is also your cue to leave a review. Tell me what you think, like, dislike, etc. I love to hear from you!

A/N; disclaimer; I don’t own anything you recognise but you already know that!



Chapter 3 – Getting Real

“Ronald Weasley! Get down here now!� Mrs. Weasley bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m telling you, Ginny; he’s the first one since Charlie to sleep ‘till noon. None of the others did it, even Fred and George. They were always up at sunrise planning some sort of prank, those two. Percy was always reading something or studying and Bill was exploring all around, searching for some kind of adventure. He’d come back at lunch everyday with an unbelievable story about a cave he found in the woods or a strange animal.�

“Mum! Don’t start again, please. You did the same speech ten minutes ago. Do you know when dad will be back from work?�

“No, but I hope it will be soon. He told me he would need just two hours and it’s been three. I don’t like it when he goes to the office on weekends,� she said while putting the dishes on the table, “Ginny, look who is finally making an appearance!�

Ron was now almost at the bottom of the stairs. His clothes seemed to have been thrown haphazardly on his frame and the hair on the left side of his head was flat while the hair on the other side was spiking in all directions. His eyes were practically shut from the light in the kitchen. He sat on a chair next to his sister and looked around.

“Where is everyone?�

“The twins are at their shop, Dad went to the office for a few hours and all the others don’t bother to come to lunch here everyday, as you know. How come you slept all morning?�

“I was up late last night,� he answered with a gritty voice.

“Well, that’s no excuse, young man.�

Ron raised an eyebrow at this. His mother had never called him that before. In fact, Mrs. Weasley had decided to change her tactic to bring back her son to his regular self. She had decided to try to get him on a normal routine, with daily chores and everything. She hoped this would bring him back to reality.

“We will all have lunch and then you will degnome the garden with Ginny.�

“But mum!�

“No ‘but’ allowed. You’ve been here nearly ten days and done nothing useful with your time. As of today, you will do your chores if you want to stay in this house,� his mother informed him while sitting at the table herself.

“What were you doing up that late anyway?� asked Ginny.

“Just reading.�

“Reading? Really?� doubted Ginny.

“Yes. I can read, for your information.�

Mrs. Weasley didn’t comment on this but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was reading his letters.

Mr. Weasley finally Apparated back from work just as the others were eating their last bite of lunch. His wife shooed the two children to their chore and put a plate full of food in front of her husband.

Ron went outside with his sister and started to bend down to catch a gnome. Ginny was doing the same a bit farther on his right. It was a nice end-of-May day and after twenty minutes of degnoming they were both a bit sweaty from the effort of throwing them as far as they could. In the old days, Ginny was a fair competitor, but now Ron was just too strong for her. His gnomes were going a lot farther than hers, so they decided to compete for precision rather than length this time. For each gnome, they had to say before the throw exactly where they predicted it would hit the ground. It made the chore much more fun.

They didn’t see Mr. Weasley watching them from the kitchen window. They only heard him as he stepped out of the house.

“How come you changed your technique, Ron?� he asked.

“My technique?�

“Yes. You’re throwing differently,� he explained.

“That’s only because of my arm. But you can ask Ginny, I still beat the hell out of those gnomes,� he replied, smiling.

“You never told us what happened to your arm,� noticed Ginny.

Ron threw another pest out of the garden before answering. “It’s not a pleasant story and you never really asked.� It looked like he was trying to find an excuse not to tell the story.

“Well, we’re asking now. Your mother is worried about it too, you know. You could tell us now.�

The Weasley’s youngest son shot a side look at his sister.

“I can take it, Ron!� she said firmly, catching him looking at her.

“I don’t doubt it. I guess it’s more that I’m ashamed of how it happened.�

Mr. Weasley sat on a bench and Ginny did the same on an old wooden box nearby. Ron couldn’t sit. Memories were coming back to him in flashes and he had to keep walking around, standing still just wasn’t an option.

“Ok. I’ll just tell it the way it happened. It started a few days before we left to destroy the final Horcrux. I went to Diagon Alley to get some potion ingredients…�

***

Ron was just outside the apothecary shop with a bulging bag of fresh ingredients for a potion he and Harry were planning to use to reach the last Horcrux. It was a rainy November day, so the alley was almost deserted. People were still considering their home safer than the streets and most were barricading themselves in, going out only in absolute necessity. The four or five figures Ron could see were all hooded to protect themselves from the rain and were walking at a good pace.

He too was eager to go back to Harry. You never knew who you could meet on the streets these days. One quick stop at the Magical Menagerie and he would be done. He was not even planning to take the time to say ‘Hi’ to his brothers. They would ask too many questions and he simply didn’t have enough time today. Once in front of the Magical Menagerie, he saw that if was closed. Wood panels were nailed to the windows and a sign on the door stated ‘Closed until ?’

Just then, a wonderful sensation enveloped him. It was as if all his worries were melting away and a gentle wave of happiness surrounded him. He hadn’t felt this good for a very long time. Ron was no longer aware that his cloak was wet and cold, and everything around him seemed blurry.

“Go back to Harry,� a voice he didn’t know commanded somewhere inside his skull.

Since that was what he was planning to do next anyway, he cordially agreed and Apparated outside the house. “Now, go inside without making any noise,� the voice said. Once inside the house, Ron found Harry in the study. The latter had his back to him and apparently hadn’t heard his friend come into the room. The tall redhead was standing in the doorframe, still holding his bag of potion supplies in his right hand.

The emptiness of his head was still blissful and he was only vaguely aware that Harry’s back seemed to stiffen a bit.

“Get your wand out, quietly.�

He reached in his pocket with his left hand and took out his wand. The voice was becoming a little more urging now, a bit more excited and that flashed a small warning light in Ron’s head. It was quickly erased as the voice commanded him to disarm Harry.

At that precise moment, Harry turned on his chair.

“Ron, is that y…�

“Expelliarmus!� is the only answer Harry got.

Harry’s wand flew away from him and landed at Ron’s feet.

“What are you doing?�

But Ron didn’t really listen to this familiar voice, it sounded all distorted in his head and he couldn’t make out the words. The only thing really clear to him was a kind of unhealthy laughter echoing in his brain. A very triumphant one.

“Now… Now, you kill him, boy!�

Ron’s wand was still pointing at Harry’s chest. The raven haired young man was now standing beside his chair, facing his friend. Comprehension seemed to dawn on him as he looked at Ron’s unfocused eyes. Ron was under the Imperius Curse and he was disarmed. He didn’t know who was controlling his best friend but he had a fair idea of what they were trying to make him do. Harry was starting to get scared; his eyes were darting from the wand pointing him to the face of the red-haired boy. His mind was racing, trying to find an escape, just a he saw a slight movement in front of him. Ron’s left elbow started to twitch lightly but his wand was still firmly in place.

Things were starting to get worse in Ron’s head. Strangely, he seemed to become aware that it was his best friend he was supposed to kill. A doubt crept inside his brain but the strange voice was fighting it with all its might. “Kill him! Kill him! Now!� it was chanting again and again.

“But he is my friend,� Ron’s own internal voice replied as his elbow started to twitch painfully. “I don’t want to do it,� he added.

Some sparks were now coming from the end of Ron’s wand and Harry held his breath, still petrified.

“Kill him! Now! KILL HARRY POTTER NOW!�

“No! I won’t! I’ll just aim somewhere else.�

“Keep your wand on this boy, I tell you.�

“No!�

At that moment, Ron’s left arm flew with an incredible force and rapidity towards the wall to his left in attempt to aim somewhere else. Harry ducked at this sudden movement but kept his eyes on his friend. He saw the limb collide forcefully with the doorframe and heard a very odd cracking sound. An instant later, Ron was sprawled on the floor with the potion ingredients around him. He was breathing heavily and muttering “I won’t. I won’t kill him.�

***

“It turned out that the doorframe was in even worst condition than my arm. Then, Harry healed me the best he could. At that point, we decided that we would leave the house only in extreme necessity and since I was not in mortal peril, going to St. Mungo’s was not an option. He did a pretty good job, thought,� Ron told his father and sister. He had stopped pacing at this point. Mr. Weasley was looking intensely at his son and Ginny was staring at a dandelion she plucked off the grass. “We never found out who put that Imperio curse on me,� he concluded.

“You could have killed him,� Ginny whispered. Her brother simply looked at her.

“Yes.�

“But he didn’t,� exclaimed Mr. Weasley. “Ron, we told you many times that we were proud of you about everything you did and this is just another example. You may not have been very cautious back there in Diagon Alley but you sure showed true friendship and courage to fight the curse like that.� He rose from the bench and patted his son on the shoulder a few seconds. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of that story; it demonstrates who you truly are.�

Later that day, after dinner, Ron went up in his room and unsealed the second letter from Hermione. This one was pretty short.

Dear Ron,

I’m just back from my career meeting with Professor McGonagall and I have to say that this meeting gave me a lot to think about. I’m still not fixed on a precise career but McGonagall told me that my marks are good enough to not pose any restriction on any job a may choose.

To get to my point; did you ever notice that we never talk about the future? There was the one time a few days ago when the career pamphlets were all around in the common room and another time at the start of the first term, but that’s it. Only two times in five years. It’s like the only future ahead of us is fighting Voldemort and keeping each other alive. By that I mean Harry, you and me. And all the others, of course, but you get my point. We have to face it; we are either going to die doing it or survive and have a life.

What will happen when that time comes? Are we all going to go separate ways? Is one of us going to leave the country to pursue a different career, like two of your brothers did? Will it be the end of those great years? I certainly hope not.

I want you to promise me, Ron, that we will always stay in touch, that we will see each other regularly and that you will remain my friend. You can become a famous Auror if you want to, but I’m asking you to always keep a little place in your life for me. As I will always keep one for you, and Harry.

Your friend,

Hermione

How could she have ever doubted that he would push her out of his life? She was, and remains, one of the most precious gifts Life gave to him. He never told her or Harry but he thought of the future too, back then. He remembered that he still hadn’t come clean with his feelings towards her at that time but he knew he couldn’t stay far from her for an extended period of time. He just had to think of the weeks she spent in the hospital wing, petrified, in second year, to remember the feeling of loss he had felt. And back then, his sentiments towards her were still really innocent.

Ron was still sitting at his desk with Hermione’s letter in front of him. His hand mechanically stretched to grab the third letter. He ripped open the parchment envelope without even thinking about it.

Happy New Year, Ron!

Even though I’m not at the Burrow with you and Harry, I wish you all the best for this New Year. I wanted to start this year by clearing out a few things, so here goes.

I am not ashamed to admit that I thought a lot about us during this vacation and one of the main conclusions I reached is this: each time we take one step forward, we end up going two steps backward a few days (even hours or minutes) later. Let’s face it; we are not going to end up very far if we continue on this path. Hence, I decided to step up and admit that I have feelings for you. Maybe I won’t state it clearly to you but at least I admitted it to myself and this is, in my opinion, a good step in the right direction.

At some point earlier this year, I thought that you were ready to start to test the ground with me, especially after I invited you to Slughorn’s party but judging from your reaction later on, I was wrong. Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you. I’ll give you the time you need.

That ‘rebound’ thing you are currently having with Lavender is hard to cope with. I won’t say it’s jealousy per se but it’s definitely bugging me. I’ll say it clear and plain; I sometime wish your hands were on me instead of her. I have even imagined what our first kiss would be like. Thought I have to say, I would prefer if it would be a little less ‘intense’ than some of the lip-locking matches you have with her these days. Oh, when I look at your lips… But I shouldn’t get there; I must stay out of that zone.

That reminds me of another thing I thought about during this vacation. Do you ever think of me as a girl? I mean, apart of the times when Viktor is mentioned in a conversation, of course. I guess I will never know unless you tell me.

Of course, my own behaviour wasn’t exactly perfect. I invited McLaggen just to get a little revenge on you and I realized through the party that it was a complete mistake. I spent almost the entire evening hiding from him. Not exactly my idea of a pleasant evening. I guess I can be a bit dumb sometimes.

That’s it for now. Mum is calling me, dinner is ready. I hope I get the chance to tell you all this in person some day, some day soon preferably. Have a lovely year.

Hermione xx (kisses on the cheeks, of course!)

Ron stayed completely still for a moment, not sure how to react to theses words dating from their sixth year at Hogwarts. He re-read some sentences randomly. Did he ever think of her as a girl? Oh yes. Loads of times.

He particularly liked observing her when she was writing. The way she would sit with her back straight. Her hair would be tucked behind her ear on the left side and her head bent slightly to the right. Sometimes, she would be frowning in concentration, her eyes fixed on the parchment so that you could barely glimpse the gold in her hazel eyes because they were hidden by her dark brown eyelashes. Unless they were in plain light or in the sun, they looked black to Ron.

Occasionally, she would look up to stare in the space, maybe in search of some inspiration or a better way to formulate a sentence. When he was sitting beside her, a curtain of hair masked the rest of her features but he sometime stole a glimpse at her mouth. It’s like it was calling him from time to time. The colour was a shade of peachy-pink and it appeared to be so soft. Her bottom lip was a bit fuller than her top one, which was aiming with an angle toward the inside of her mouth. So inviting and hypnotizing, he was having a hard time trying to concentrate on anything else, let alone his homework, during those blissful minutes. But the thing he liked the most was her hand.

The way her wrist would rest against the table, narrow and fragile looking. The smooth skin draped around it stretched gently with each movement. Her fingers were pressed firmly against the quill, directing it like a conductor. When she was in a very inspired frenzy, white spots would appear on her fingernails from the increased pressure on the quill. Her writing style was fast and precise. She looked so beautiful.

This picture was clearly engraved in Ron’s brain, probably because he saw it so often. If he had some talent in drawing or painting, he was positive he would have been able to recreate this image down to the last detail. Gorgeous.

Yes, of course he thought of her as a girl when Krum was mentioned in a conversation. He couldn’t bear to imagine those knobbly fingers on her and when Lavender and he were finally done pretending, he came to the conclusion that she was a girl, yes, but he would like her to be his girl. The fact is that a voice somewhere in his brain told him that he would have liked it for quite a bit of time, now.

The human brain is a strange thing. Sometimes it seems completely empty but at other times, it’s unstoppable. One thought brings a memory back and that memory brings back another one and things start to speed up like an infinite spiral. This particular reaction was happening to Ron just now. His head was full of Hermione and it was a slippery slope. He still hadn’t reached the point where he could think of her and be happy. Up to now, every time he let himself think of her too long, or too deeply, he ended up in tears or even punching whatever object close by, in frustration from the injustice of her departure.

This letter was just another proof that they would probably have had a chance at a happy life together. Ron wiped a tear from his face with the palm of his hand and got up. He didn’t care how dark or how late it was, he needed to go outside, to breathe fresh air, to walk. He grabbed a sweater and swung it over his head while stepping out of his room. He met nobody going downstairs and the kitchen was dark and empty.

Once outside, he inhaled deeply, smelling earth and grass. He walked down the road a good half hour before stopping and murmuring to the sky; “I miss you.�



A/N: Another sad chapter, I know. But the next one will be more cheerful. I can’t say why just now, you’ll find out soon enough. I just wanted to precise that I know that Ron is right-handed, I just didn’t want to wreck his right arm… Again, reviews are highly appreciated and a motivation to pursue writing this one and other stories.

A/N; I don’t own anything you recognise. This will be a little break from my other ‘more emotionally charged’ chapters. I don’t intend on turning this into a humour story… maybe make you smile, for a change.


Chapter 4 – Welcoming the Newcomer


The sun was not yet up when Ron climbed the creaking stairs to the back door of his house. The light outside was a beautiful greyish blue, the one you can only really see in the early morning. Ron had spent the entire night outside; sometimes walking, sometimes just sitting. The day was still so young that he was a little surprised when he saw his mother sitting at the kitchen table through the window of the back door.

“Morning, mum,� he said, opening the door.

Mrs. Weasley raised her eyes to his face, only half surprised to see her son.

“Morning dear. Did you spend the whole night outside?� Seeing his puzzled face, she added before he could reply, “I heard you leave in the middle of the night.�

“Oh… Why are you up so early?� he asked, taking a seat in front of her.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?� she asked back, rising from her chair.

“Sure.�

She then placed a mug in front of him and filled it with coffee before refilling her own.

“Harry is coming today,� she finally answered, sitting back. “We’ll be having a special dinner tonight and I want to cook before it gets too hot. They forecast a beautiful sunny day today and I don’t want to waste it cooking inside.�

“Did he send Hedwig to say he would arrive today or did you guess?�

“He stopped by the joke shop two days ago and Fred told me when he Apparated yesterday to pick up something from his old bedroom,� she explained, taking a sip from her mug.

“When will he be here?�

“Fred didn’t say, but the twins will both be here for dinner. Now, do you want a spot of breakfast before I start?�

“I’ll do it myself, thanks,� said Ron rising from his chair and looking around. He never really cooked anything at the Burrow and therefore didn’t know where everything was. He finally spotted the frying pan he was looking for on a hook on the wall and placed it with a small ‘bang’ on the stove.

“I’m frying eggs. Do you want any, mum?� he asked almost cheerfully. Harry’s visit would take his mind off… other stuff.

“Well…� She was eying him uncertainly. Her husband cooked a few times a year and Ginny occasionally baked cookies, but Ron frying eggs…?

“Morning everyone,� came Mr. Weasley’ voice.

“Good morning, dad. How many eggs do you want?�

“You’re cooking breakfast, Ron?� he questioned, kissing his wife on the cheek.

“Yep!�

“Two eggs, then.�

“Two it is. Mum?�

“Only one.�

“And two for me,� added Ginny, tying her bathrobe at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll take three myself so I need eight fresh eggs. I’ll be back in a minute,� he said.

“Do you think it’s safe to let him prepare breakfast, dear?� questioned Mr. Weasley once the door clicked close.

“I’m not sure,� she admitted.

“Mum, why don’t you sit back a few more minutes?� suggested Ron from the doorframe, his hands full of fresh eggs. “Ginny and I will take care of everything.�

“Yeah! I’ll make toast,� Ginny added, already busy setting the table. Her parents glanced at each other a moment and Mrs. Weasley finally took a seat beside her husband.

Soon the air was filled with the smell of frying eggs and toast. To everyone’s general surprise, the breakfast was rather tasty, but as soon as the last mouthful was swallowed Mrs. Weasley shooed everybody out.

“It was delicious, dear,� she said as she gently pushed Ron out, “but from now until I tell you otherwise, this kitchen is my territory. Ginny, gather everyone’s laundry. I’m going to do some later today. Ron, go tidy the twin’s room. That’s where Harry will sleep. Arthur?�

“I’m leaving, Molly! I don’t want to be late for work.�

Once upstairs, Ron quickly saw that the twin’s room was perfectly fine to welcome a guest, so he didn’t have anything to do before lunch. He stood there eying the bed and an idea slowly made its way through his brain, a grin spreading over his face at the same pace. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘I could add a few special additions for our very special guest…’

Ron popped his head through the kitchen door.

“I’m off the Diagon Alley to see Fred and George for an hour, Mum.�

“Yes, dear,� replied a very busy Mrs. Weasley.

***

“What are you doing?� asked Ginny at the doorframe of the twin’s room some ninety minutes later.

“Setting the room up for our guest,� answered her brother, rummaging in the single drawer of the bedside table.

Ginny noticed the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes bags at the foot of the bed. “I see you’re setting it up in the …er, special way.�

He just grinned back at her.

“Can I add a little something?�

***

Mrs. Weasley was restless once the dishes from lunch were clean and there was nothing else left to do but wait. She tried to sit but jumped back to her feet almost at once to look out the window.

“Is he coming by Knight Bus or Floo Powder or is he Apparating do you think?� she asked her son and daughter, her eyes going from one to the other awaiting a sign from either of them. Neither knew the answer to this.

Ginny was almost as restless as her mother, the only difference being that she was better at hiding it. Ron was not fooled by this somewhat calm exterior. He himself was nervous to finally see his friend again. They hadn’t even as much as sent on owl to each other since he’d left. To say it plainly, he missed Harry.

The minutes ticked by slowly. Ginny was scanning evasively through the pages of a magazine and Ron was mentally reviewing all the tricks awaiting Harry in his room.

Some twenty minutes later, they heard a faint ‘pop’ and someone knocking on the door frantically seconds later.

“It’s me, Harry! Let me in, quick!�

He didn’t need to say. Before he could finish the sentence Mrs. Weasley had yanked the door open and stretched her arms out in a soon-to-be very tight hug.

He dodged her arms saying “Not in front of the window!� and entered the house.

All the Weasleys stood rooted to the spot, glaring at the newcomer.

“Please close the door, Mrs. Weasley,� Harry whispered peering outside through a window, “I’ll explain everything.�

She did as she was told, still a bit shocked.

There was another minute of silence, with Harry still looking cautiously outside before he exclaimed; “The coast is clear! Now, let’s do this properly. Hello everybody!� he said with a big smile.

He turned to Mrs. Weasley and walked toward her with his arms open. It took her a moment to react but she soon embraced him in a motherly hug.

“What in Merlin’s name was that?� asked Ron.

“Wait just another second, Ron.� He turned to face Ginny.

“Hi, Ginny,� he said smiling at her.

“Hello Harry. Welcome home.� She was looking half surprised, half suspicious.

“Now for the explanation; I stayed the night at The Leaky Cauldron and was planning to arrive here just after lunch. As I was bringing down my luggage, I ran into Rita Skeeter. I’ve been avoiding her for a week. She is stalking me to get an exclusive interview. Well, you know how she is,� he added looking at his best friend. “She won’t give up. I had to leave in a hurry and couldn’t even take my trunk with me. For a moment, I thought she would follow me here too. I’m sorry I was rude.�

“Oh!� exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. “Ok then! Well, welcome back, Harry dear!� she said as she was hugging him yet again. She then held him at arm’s length, looking at him up and down. She was simply doing her usual visual inspection and smiled warmly. She thought it would be much worst. He stood firmly, looked healthy and seemed to have a good amount of energy.

“It’s good to see you mate,� declared Ron.

“Same here,� replied Harry, giving his friend a brief one-arm hug.

“Did you get a chance to eat something before Rita got to you?� asked the always practical Mrs. Weasley.

“Yes, don’t worry.�

“Why are we all standing here like idiots? Let’s all go sit in the garden to catch up,� suggested Ron.

“But I still have to go back to get my luggage,� observed Harry.

“I’ll go with you in case she’s still waiting for you,� offered Ron.

“Me too,� added Ginny.

“Alright, but you three better come back here quickly. You know we’re having a fancy dinner and, Harry, I’m doing laundry this afternoon so if you have some clothes that could use cleaning, bring them to me as soon as you can.�

“Yes! It won’t be long,� assured her adopted son.

***

“Finally! I thought you’d never come back!� squealed Rita Skeeter.

Apparently, she’d waited for him, sitting on his trunk. She uncrossed her legs and stood up on a pair of very high, vividly purple pointy-toed shoes. Her Quick Quote Quill was also ready, its tip balanced on the page of a notebook resting next to where she was sitting on the trunk.

The three friends stood before her, all looking very annoyed. Ginny had crossed her arms over her chest as soon as she spotted the journalist. The bartender shot a kind of apologetic look to Harry from behind his counter, as if he was trying to say he had been unable to get rid of her. In the meantime, Rita Skeeter jumped on the occasion and started asking questions at once.

“How was it to finally defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Were you scared? Do you have a feeling of freedom since this treat is no longer here? Do you…�

“Stop wasting your time, I won’t answer any questions,� said Harry, interrupting her.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Harry!� she winked at him. “I won’t stop until I get that interview. The Daily Prophet will pay big Galleons for it.�

“I think he was really clear. Leave him alone,� said Ron as he moved a step forward.

“And who do we have here?� she was almost clapping her hands together as she realised who was with Harry. “How was it to second The Chosen One? How did it feel to be trusted by the one who had the fate of the Magical World in his hands?�

The two young men eyed each other and made a move to grab the trunk and Hedwig’s cage.

“You know you can’t avoid me forever. You would do better to get it over. And now, I’ll know where to find you,� she smirked, pointing a long purple fingernail at the Weasleys.

Harry was truly annoyed at this point. “Fine! You have ten minutes, starting now.�

Rita started to bombard him with questions the instant he finished his sentence. One would say she used her time to the fullest extent, making sure none was wasted with useless silence. She covered almost every subject she could think of, from Voldemort to Dumbledore and Harry’s parents. She even asked one or two question to Ron about Harry and also tried to get them to talk about Hermione. They managed to dodge that issue by changing the subject with lightening speed. One of the last things she wanted to discuss as her time was running out was Harry’s future.

“And what are your plans for the future?�

At this, Harry shot a quick look at Ginny, which was not lost on Rita.

“Oh! Ooh! Would the pretty young lady be part of your plans?� Ginny shifted from one foot to the other under the stare of Rita Skeeter.

“Ok, time’s up!� declared Harry. “And I strongly suggest that you stick to the facts… we still have a card up our sleeve, in case you forget.� Harry was obviously referring to her being an unregistered Animagus.

***

The dinner that night was unanimously declared the best meal everyone had ever tasted. Mrs. Weasley’s work had clearly paid off, as the whole family was in a very good mood; eating, laughing and sharing good memories and Harry’s recent adventures. After dessert, they all started to get a little drowsy and the conversation slowly died down. Fred and George were the first to leave the party for their flat in Diagon Alley. Shortly after, the others climbed the stairs, bidding each other goodnight. Ron grinned a little too much as he left Harry in front of the twin’s room. He was suddenly much more awake. He entered his own bedroom but made sure the door stayed open.

A few floors down, Harry was opening his trunk to get out some pyjama pants and a t-shirt. Many boxes were stacked on top of one of the beds so he deduced that the other one was his for the duration his stay at the Burrow.

He changed his clothes, closed the curtains and climbed into bed. The mattress supported his frame very comfortably and he had a fluffy pillow. The entire house was really quiet, creaking softly occasionally and those sounds were really comforting to him. He fell asleep quickly into peaceful sleep.

The next morning, around eight, a pair of similar yet different people was sitting on the stairs, holding flesh-coloured strings to their ears. They both looked like they were waiting for something. One of them seemed to be as sleepy as impatient; he was not used to waking up so early. The other one, a girl, had had to shake him for 10 minutes before she could wake him up.

Some time later, they heard a faint sound. The strings they were holding were spread on the landing, a few stairs down, and disappeared in the space under the door of a bedroom. Inside, a young man was stretching, still laying in bed. He yawned and reached with his left arm to grab his glasses off the bedside table.

In an instant, he was fully awake. His hand had missed the glasses and somehow passed through the top board of the bedside table to plunge directly into the top drawer. The sensation he got was absolutely disgusting; a cold liquid with the consistency of molasses engulfing his hand, and there were lumps in the mix. He slowly turned on his side and put on his glasses with his right hand.

He extracted his hand from the mixture and examined it. He made a face as he realized it not only felt disgusting, it had the smell of a troll too. He decided to get his wand from his trunk to clear it up when he noticed that his feet were held captive by the sheets. Harry sighed; he knew very well who was responsible for all this.

Not wanting to get the sheets all dirty with the mixture on his hand, Harry resorted to undoing the bed and hopping to his trunk while tangled in them. He managed it, falling only once.

He cleaned his hand, untangled himself from the sheets and got to his feet, looking around him. He was sure there were more tricks in the room and decided to go down to breakfast without touching anything else. Before he reached the door, however, he turned on his feet and went to the window to open the curtains. He wanted to open the window to get rid of the nasty smell. He eyed them closely before tapping his wand on the fabric. Nothing happened so he grabbed the edges and spread them open.

The moment they were fully open, a fine powder showered over him. He got most of it on his face and arms. In an instant, his skin started to itch wherever the powder had landed. The itching increased as the seconds ticked by and scratching didn’t help at all. He quickly went to the door and tried to open it. It was bolted shut.

“Ron, I’m going to kill you! Open it!� he urged as the itching became unbearable.

A scrap of parchment appeared on the panel of the door, reading “Who’s the king?�

“You are the king, Weasley!�

“Who’s got the charm, handsomeness and the brain?�

“You have! Now, come on! It’s not funny anymore!�

The door produced a small ‘click’ and opened. Harry hurried out and started to run upstairs, clearly aiming for the shower. As he passed an out of breath Ron and Ginny, he grunted “You are so going to pay for this, Ron!�

“Ginny did some of it too,� Ron yelled after Harry just before he heard to door of the bathroom slam shut.

Upstairs, Harry jumped in the shower fully clothed and turned on the taps. His arms were almost bleeding from all the scratching and the cold water slowly calmed his skin. After most of it had cleared, he started to dispose of his wet and cold pyjamas and t-shirt thinking that those easy tricks didn’t look like Ginny at all.

Once naked, he grabbed the soap and started to wash his body. Looking down at his chest, he saw a tattoo of a huge Hungarian Horntail. ‘That,’ he thought, ‘is Ginny’s work.’


A/N; Only two chapters to go, everyone! Don’t get too excited, you won’t see much more from Harry in the last chapters, this is a Ron – Hermione story after all! Things will get back to normal in the next chapte. Sorry it took so long to update but both my beta and I were very very busy. And did you notice that wonderful new feature of mnff? It’s so easy to leave reviews now! You should try it… Comments, opinions, poem, praise, rant, questions, etc! Everything is welcomed!

A/N; I don’t own anything you recognize, you know it. See you at the end!

Chapter Five – It’s Time

Two days later, the household woke up to a beautifully sunny day. Gathered around breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Harry were planning their day.

“Your mother and I have some errands to run today in Diagon Alley and we will also have lunch with the twins. Do you want to come with us?� asked Mr. Weasley.

“I’ll come!� immediately replied Ginny.

Harry swallowed his mouthful of toast and added, “Me too. I need to talk to them.�

“Ron?�

“I’d like to stay here, if that’s ok with you, Mum.�

“Why?�

“I just don’t feel like going out.�

“It’s settled then,� Mr. Weasley declared. “We leave in half an hour.�

About fifteen minutes later, everyone was getting their things to go shopping. Ron was in his bedroom looking under his bed for a pair of shoes when Harry knocked on the doorframe.

“Could you check on Hedwig while I’m gone? Just to make sure she doesn’t run out of water and food? She traveled a lot this week.�

“Yeah, sure,� Ron answered popping his head out.

“Hey, who wrote to you?� asked Harry upon seeing the letters from Hermione on Ron’s desk.

Ron quickly got out from under his bed with his tennis shoes and went to gather the letters.

“Hermione,� he simply replied, putting the letters in one of the drawers.

“I didn’t know you two wrote to each other,� said Harry, looking puzzled.

“Neither did I. I received those two weeks ago.�

“Really? But it can’t be…�

“I know, Harry. She wrote to me before she… passed away, and her parents sent the letters while we were still out there fighting. Mum gave them to me when I came back home.�

“What does it say?�

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that… In the first one, she basically yells at me for being a git at the Yule Ball in fourth year.

Harry snorted. “And the others?�

“I haven’t read them all, yet,� Ron half-lied, looking away from his friend.

“Oh.�

At that moment, Ginny entered the room.

“Come on, Harry. We’re all waiting for you.�

“Sorry. Bye Ron, see you this afternoon.�

“Have fun, both of you,� he replied as they were leaving.

The red-haired let out a big sigh and sat on the corner of his bed. They were all finally gone. He had been waiting for an occasion to be alone in the last few days. Yes, he was happy they were all reunited again. Yes, he was having fun with Harry and it was really entertaining to see him around Ginny but he felt like he was wearing a mask. He didn’t feel that good inside. And Harry seemed to be doing so great… Was he playing a comedy too?

He put on his tennis shoes and went outside to think quietly in the garden. June was almost here and the grass was perfectly green, moving peacefully with the wind. Ron sat on the stairs leading to the back door and looked around him. Everything appeared nice and at peace. It was a beautiful spring day, with all one could dream of in a world now Voldemort-free. He could hear birds chirping in the distance, tree branches cracking under the wind and two or three gnomes rummaging near the shed. It all seemed perfect. Why was he feeling so messed up then? Why couldn’t he enjoy it like anybody else?

He suddenly looked up as an owl flew over one of the tall trees. It was that stupid stone owl that started it all. It was that ugly thing that let Malfoy know there was a Mudblood in the house… How else would he have known they were there? It was its fault Malfoy came to fight them. It was its fault she was dead.

“Damn enchanted owl!� he said aloud.

His hands clenched into fists and he didn’t even notice it. His nails were digging in the palms of his hands, but he didn’t feel the pain. The only pain he was aware of was the one running through his veins; the one that seemed to lurk in every part on his body.

Ron rose up and seized a rock on the ground. He stared at it, trying to transfer all his anger to the stone and threw it as forcefully as he could against the trunk of a tree. The rock bounced on the wood and fell some distance away. He stood there and realized that it didn’t help at all. He could throw a thousand rocks, and it wouldn’t change a thing. He threw another one nonetheless, just for the sake of it.

The gangly young man unclenched his fists and his shoulders dropped. He was not going to bail out. He would read that last letter from Hermione. He had been waiting for a moment of tranquility since he had an idea of what this last missive would say. He knew he would get emotional if he was right but he had to read it. He had avoided seeing the truth for so long; it was now time to face it. Now was the perfect time to do it too. If not, who knows how long it would be before he would get another occasion like this? A deserted Burrow was something rarely seen.

He went back inside the house, picked up the last sealed envelope from his desk drawer and went back outside. He sat against the trunk of the tree he had aimed at a few minutes before and felt the parchment of the envelope with his fingers. It was thicker than the other ones and also appeared to have some magic in it.

This was confirmed when he tried to break the seal. It wouldn’t break. Instead, three words appeared on the parchment: ‘State your name’.

“Ronald Weasley.�

At this, the seal dissolved into vapour and he was able to get the letter from the envelope. He unfolded the parchment and another piece of paper fell on his lap. It was blank but he had a feeling it wasn’t here for nothing and put it carefully aside. Maybe there would be some instructions about that in her words.

Ron,

There’s no way around it; if you read this, I’m dead. I wrote this letter in case that particular situation would happen. I couldn’t go without telling you a few things. And these words are here because I didn’t have the time, or the occasion, or the courage (yet) to say them face to face. This missive is the point of no turning back. I intend on writing nothing but the truth, so here goes.

One last thing before we get into the real stuff: I put a voice recognition charm on the seal to make sure you were the only one who could read its content. And don’t lose that little piece of parchment. It’ll be useful later on.

I’m scared, Ron. I even catch myself shaking in my bed some nights of the week. This Horcrux chase we are diving into is so huge. Not only in terms of the task itself but also of what could come out of it; its effects on the whole magical community. And Harry has such an immense role to do, with the prophecy and everything else. Think about it. We are three barely of age witches and wizards and we want to find and destroy Horcruxes. Dumbledore only managed to destroy one himself! And he was Dumbledore! What are we compared to him?

I try to take it one day at a time because I can’t see much ahead. I don’t really know where this will lead us, or what we are going to face and meet. Come to think of it, I don’t want to look ahead because the ultimate point will be Voldemort himself and Harry jeopardizing his life facing him. I refuse to think of that even if my brain tells me it’s better to prepare ourselves. I just can’t. I’m not even sure we will reach this point of the mission. We have so much to do to get there.

I think that if I take it one little step at a time, one problem after the other, I won’t stress as much as I do when I consider the whole situation.

You probably think that it’s not that bad since you don’t see me shaking and panicking during the day but it’s there. We’re all nervous and insecure. Harry is great at mastering himself, probably because he is so focused on what he has -and wants- to do, but I sometime catch him staring outside with his forehead against the window and I can see he is worried too. He has so much on his shoulders. The best thing we can do is support him as much as we can and help him to go as far as he can reach.

And you, Ron, I know you are as scared as I am. You were never the best person to disguise your feelings. Do you know you’ve taken the habit of biting the inside of your cheeks? You do it so often these days that you must be bleeding from time to time.

The only reason I can remain somewhat calm in the day is that I know you and Harry would defend me with your lives if the need was there. I know someone is there to protect me. You did it at Hogwarts and you do it now too. I sleep better at night because I know you’re both in the house, in rooms close to mine. I’m more courageous when you’re at my sides, it gives me strength.

I’m also scared to never see my mother and father again. You must feel the same here too. Merlin, your mother must be a wreck since you’re gone. My parents are Muggles, as you know, so they understand the importance of the cause for the sake of both the magical and Muggle world, but they would rather have me home with them instead of the front line in the battlefield. I have a picture of them in my luggage and I look at it every single day. I love them so much. I want to hug them again, I want to fight over the television remote (Muggle device), I want to bid them goodnight too.

I don’t want to die!

I could use a hug, right now. I would like for you to comfort me, hold me tight and tell me it’s going to be okay… I know I’d feel safe in your arms. You are my protector and you’ve always been this way. I’m so thankful for that; I need your support to stay strong.

There’s nothing official between us, you and I are both aware of that, but it’s there anyway, whether you acknowledge it or not. I care about you and you care about me. I don’t think of you as a brother and you don’t think of me as a sister either. I know it.

I’m getting choked up here. I don’t want you to read this letter. Because if you do, it means I never got to tell you how much I love you. We are leaving tomorrow to destroy the cup in the Malfoy Mansion and if we succeed and come back here safely, I’ll tell you. I have to.

Why is it so hard? Three simple words with so much behind them. There’s the history, the present and the future in those words. There’s you and me, and something so powerful we will never understand the full extent of it. But there’s you and me in it. It’s all that matters to me right now. You and me. Ron and Hermione. Weasley and Granger. Pureblood and Muggleborn.

You and me.

One part of my life seems to be revolving around you. I look up at you for courage and strength. You make me laugh, we fight. We fight less than when we used to at school but the stress still gets to us sometimes. I like when we fight. I don’t like the argument itself but the energy of it gives me a kind of drive to go on, to look in more books and to try harder. Even the negative turns out positive around you.

I love to watch you prepare a meal. You were never the best at organization and you definitely need some in the kitchen. How many times have you served the main course, then dessert and finally vegetables because you forgot to heat them at the right time? Nothing is routine with you. There’s always something unexpected and unplanned. I like that you can turn an ordinary day into a maze. Never boring to be around you.

I can’t help but laugh when I see you flee at the sight of a spider. Remember the time you thought that big hairy one was in your sweater? I never saw a guy get half-naked so fast in my life! I still smile when I think of that afternoon. Your skin was so pale under all those freckles. Maybe it was because you were so scared of the spider, I don’t know.

I never touched you even if I wanted to many, many times. I don’t mean to grope you. Just to feel your skin under my fingers, see the texture of your hair, get close enough to smell your neck and things like that. I think that just means I wanted to get closer to you, more intimate. To cross the ‘friends’ line.

To feel your lips against mine. To feel them on my skin.
Earlier, I told you I needed you mentally to stay strong and such. Now I’m telling you I need you physically as well. A hug here and there, a caress as you bid me goodnight, a kiss when you just come out of the shower…

Is all this even possible? Am I just dreaming impossible things? What about you? Do you feel the same? I know you like (love) me, but I can’t tell exactly what your feelings are towards me. I can’t guess how you would react to a kiss from me. I can’t predict what you will do when I tell you all this in a few days, or when you will read this letter. I guess that’s why it’s so frightening to tell someone you love them. It’s the unknown and the feeling of not being in control. I read this in a book I can’t remember the title. Every fear we have is either based on a sentiment of loss of control or fear of the unknown.

I wrote at the beginning that I intended on telling nothing but the truth and I realize that I’m taking a lot of detours.

I love you, Ron.

That’s the most truthful thing you will read in this letter. Lately I even came to think that to me, the alphabet consisted of only three letters: R-O-N. You came to be almost everything to me. Practically everything revolves around you in my life. You’re my safe place to fall when I have a bad day. You’re my protector and my hero. You’re my friend and my, maybe someday, boyfriend, fiancé or husband. I think of you when I need strength, I look at you when I want to be reassured and I dream of you when I want to feel loved.

You impressed me with your loyalty. You surprised me with your relaxed vision of life. You defended me against Malfoy. You are brilliant even if you don’t always use your gifts well. You’re always true to yourself and you hide nothing, even if that leads to fighting. For all that, I loved
you.

You stood by my side in battles. You’re always there for me when I need to. You’re courageous, strong and proud. You’re a true Gryffindor. You are a true friend to Harry and me. You defend and protect your family. For all that, I loved you more.

You are Ron Weasley, and for that I love you. No matter what.

It’s true, I love you. And you probably loved me at some point of your life too. But if you are reading this letter, dwelling on those feeling won’t be of any help. You will need to move on, Ron. I know you will try to hold on to those sentiments. It won’t be easy and you will probably need some time to heal before, as I would have had to if the situation was reversed. As much as you love me, as much as I counted for you, I’m no longer on this Earth. I don’t want you to forget me. I just don’t want my memory to hold you back in life. You have to keep going on. You are a fighter, Ron. You never gave up and now is not the time to start.

Life will go on, you will grow old, and people around you are going to marry, have kids and die too. I don’t want to think that I will ruin the rest of your time on this planet. I want our time together to be a positive experience, something you can look up to that will put a smile on your face that you will recall without regrets or bitter feelings.
There’s life past death. There are years and years awaiting you. Don’t waste them on a memory.

I told you that the small piece of parchment would be useful later on… Now is the time. It will be my last gift for you. I hope you will appreciate the full meaning of this present and that it will help you remember me by. When you will be done reading, stretch you arm and turn you palm up to the sky. Then pronounce the incantation on the parchment and you will receive your present. To me, it’s like giving you a part of me. Again, I hope you will like it.

I can’t believe this is goodbye. I never imagined I would have to say this to you some day. Please, don’t mind the spots left by my tears. The ink is still drying and I’m damping it with tears even more. It’s not very neat but I can’t help it. It’s almost as bad as if this goodbye was real.

Please remember me as the girl who loved you with all her heart, as the friend and as the man you were. A part of my soul belonged to you and I was ready to share it with you. I hope I will have helped you go further with your immense potential, that my memory will be a pleasant one to you and that you realize how much you meant to me. Go on with your life and know that I’ll always be around, in you head, heart and soul. Know that I will have thought about you until the very end and that you helped me go this far. You’re my alphabet.

I love you. Three simple words. I love you.

Your Hermione

Ron grabbed the smaller piece of parchment, did as he was told and read the words that slowly appeared on it aloud. Only a moment later, a wand materialized in his palm.
Hermione’s wand.

Ron’s mouth was hanging slightly open. She was right in thinking this was the best present.

This was something she carried with her everyday since she was eleven. It was the symbol of the magical part of her life, of her time at Hogwarts, the fights she fought and all her wonderful magical achievements. And it was something important to her.

He also had an idea she could not have foreseen when she wrote the letter. He quickly stood up, went to his bedroom and opened his trunk. Ron pulled out a long drawstring bag made of dark velvet. Opening it, he took out a wand and went downstairs to the fireplace. He kneeled down in front of it and placed the newly fetched wand on the ashes.

He seized Hermione’s wand and used it to set fire to the other one with a shaking hand. Then, the red-haired sat in front of the flames and watched them lick and burn the slender piece of wood, a silent tear occasionally running down his cheek. It was like a symbolic revenge to her memory. Her wand destroyed the one owned by Draco Malfoy.

It brought some peace to Ron’s soul to have been able to do this. As he watched Malfoy’s wand being consumed by the flames, being reduced to ashes, he took steadying breaths, playing with Hermione’s wand in his fingers, feeling every part of it he could, his vision blurred.


A/N; Sorry it took me so long to update but I had beta trouble. I lost me regular one due to computer crash and finding new ones is a headache. Nonetheless, Songbook99 and Greeneyes stepped up and were a great help, so thank you so much. There’s a fine line between being sentimental/emotional and just syrupy/corny and I didn’t want to cross it too much. That’s why I wanted feedback before posting… Well, I also want (and need) to know what you think of this chapter, of course!

Chapter Six – P.S.

A/N; I don’t own anything you recognize.



“Bye!�

“Bye, dear,� replied Mrs. Weasley as Ron closed the door. She absentmindedly grabbed a towel off a nearby hook and dried her hands as she watched her son through the kitchen window. She sighed deeply, Ron was heading for the forest, again. It had become a habit in the last two weeks; he would leave right after lunch to go Merlin’s know where in the forest, only to come back for dinner. No one knew what he was doing and no one was allowed to come with him. Ginny had asked a few times, but he would always refuse.

Mrs. Weasley was worried; even when Ron was home, he would be quiet, talking very little. She wondered what was going on with her youngest son, and was playing with the idea of asking him point blank what the reason was for his odd behaviour. But she was also afraid that by doing so, he would only close up more. Her husband tried to reassure her the best he could, telling her Ron was grieving yet again because of Hermione’s letters, but it was no good. Her son was hurting and she was unable to ease his pain. Someone would have to do something soon; she couldn’t bear it much longer.

A good distance from the Burrow, Ron was still making his way through a familiar path in the forest. When he had started his little excursions, he was going anywhere his feet would lead him, following no precise direction and having no particular goal in mind. He just wanted to go deep into the forest, where everything was wild. He wasn’t afraid to get lost; he always had his wand with him to help him find his way back.

He liked walking in the heart of the forest because there was no order there, everything was confused. It was messy, just like him. There were tall trees with wide trunks growing amidst young ones, only two or three meters high, and bushes, plants, mud, rocks, dead branches, earth, bugs and so much more. You could smell the wildness too, especially after a good rain.

It was hard to walk this deep in the forest; you sometimes had to fight your way to go further, as if it was forbidden to keep going, as if it was protecting a secret. One particular afternoon, however, Ron came across a tiny clearing. It was about the size of a very small bedroom, small enough that there was no opening to see the sky overhead. The branches and leaves of the trees surrounding it were covering it, like a ceiling of emeralds.

Ever since he had discovered that little clearance, he had headed there every afternoon. He was somehow always able to find, but it was much easier now; a path was almost clearly visible through the trees.

He reached it yet again today and dropped his backpack on the ground. It was the type of day he liked; a few clouds in the sky and a nice wind to sweep everything. The wind was so much more interesting to listen to in a forest. You could hear the leaves ruffling, the trees brushing against one another and the very big ones cracking softly.

Ron sat on his favourite boulder, and after a moment, opened his backpack to take out something enveloped in a cloth. The cloth was an old piece of fabric, very dirty and ragged, but he opened it with extreme care; it was what was underneath that was important to him.

Tossing the cloth aside, he held its content with both hands. It was two small wooden pieces. He placed one on top of the other and carefully observed it to make sure that they were matching perfectly. He then took out a knife and some grinding paper and started to make small adjustments, so that the pieces would be perfectly aligned once assembled.

Ron was making a wooden box to hold Hermione’s wand, and he was making it the Muggle way. At first, it hadn’t looked like anything, and he had had to start over more than once, but this last try was looking pretty good.

He used two pieces of wood; one would be the box itself and the other would become the lid. He had carved it with knives, sanded it with paper and even bought tiny hinges that he was planning to use to join the two pieces.

When he had received her wand, Ron had wondered what he would do with it. He had been thinking about it while walking in the forest and decided that such an important object needed a special place to be stored; it couldn’t just lay on a shelf or at the bottom of a trunk.

Ron had finally chosen to make a box, and had opted for the Muggle way because it would keep his hands busy. This decision proved to be a hard and frustrating one to stick to, but it served its purpose well. It kept him active in a way, and doing something with one’s hands was a good way to clear their mind and to think calmly.


***


Mrs. Weasley’s head jerked up as she heard someone knocking on the door. She wondered who it was, since she wasn’t expecting anybody today. She set aside the Weasley sweater she was knitting and got up to answer the door.

Her face lit up instantly as she saw Harry on the doorstep.

“Harry, dear! What a pleasant surprise!�

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley. How are you?� he asked as they were hugging.

“Very well, thank you. And you? Not starving yourself in your new flat, I hope.�

Harry laughed. “Not at all. Everything’s good, you don’t need to worry.�

“Sit, sit my dear. Why are you here today?�

“I came to see Ron. Is he here?�

Mrs. Weasley’s smile faded slightly. “He went for a walk in the woods, but he should be back for dinner. You could wait for him, if you’d like to.�

“I think I’ll go and look for him, if you don’t mind,� he replied.

“He goes deep into the forest. Do you think you’ll be able to find him?�

“I’m sure of it,� he assured her, rising slowly from his chair. “See you later,� he added as he headed for the backdoor.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to hesitate for a second.

“Harry, dear?�

“Yes?�

“Could you… Look, I don’t know what he does or where he goes in that forest and he almost doesn’t talk to us when he’s home. Could you, maybe, try to talk to him, and find out what’s wrong? I’m worried about him,� she finished, the plea clearly visible in her eyes.

“To be honest, that’s what I was planning to do this afternoon. I invited him to visit my flat three times last week and he always found some excuse. I want to know what’s going on too. That’s not the Ron I know.�

“Thank you. And you ’re welcome to stay for dinner when you come back, too.�

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley,� he replied, smiling.


***


Ron blew on the piece of wood he was holding. He was finally done. The two pieces were perfectly matching; the wood was smooth and it was as good as he could manage. He then picked the cloth up off the ground and laid it on a nearby boulder, placing the box and the lid on it. Next, he dug in his bag and took out a can of varnish along with a brush.

He was just finishing applying the varnish on the second piece of wood, when he heard odd sounds nearby. Nevertheless, he continued his work; it was probably just a small animal.

After a last stroke of the brush, he put the lid on the cloth to let it dry and stood to try to see the animal making the noise. It was louder now, and somehow different than the sounds he was used to hearing in the forest. It seemed that it was made by something with two legs rather than the usual four.

Ron took out his wand, just in case, and faced the source of the noise.

“Don’t attack, Ron. It’s me, Harry.�

Ron dropped his arm and sat back on his boulder, waiting for Harry to emerge from the thick branches and bushes.

“Hello,� Harry said as he saw his friend.

“Hi,� the other replied. “How did you find me?�

“If we were able to find Voledmort’s hiding place, finding you in a forest shouldn’t be a real challenge, Ron.

“Great! Tell me I stupid too, while you’re at it.�

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t try to push me away; I won’t go before we talk.�

“Talk about what?� the red haired boy enquired.

“You.�

“You’re just wasting your time then. There’s nothing to say about me.�

“Why didn’t you come to visit me at my flat? I asked you over at least three times,� Harry said.

“I had other things to do,� Ron answered.

“May I sit?�

“Hey, it’s not my forest, you can do what you want,� he replied nonchalantly.

Harry looked around for a boulder without any sharp edges and saw the wooden pieces drying on the cloth. Looking down, he also noticed little bits of wood littering the ground surrounding Ron’s feet. He finally sat on a small boulder, about one foot high, and pointed with his chin to the box.

“Is that what you were doing?�

“Maybe. But it doesn’t matter, Harry. Why are you here?�

“I told you,� Harry said, “we need to talk.� Ron scoffed. “What is going on with you, Ron? You’ve been acting very odd, lately.�

“I’m not acting odd!� he exclaimed. “I’m just minding my own business, and I’d wish other people would do the same,� he added in an undertone.

“Don’t give me that stuff. I already told you I’m not going away, so you might as well tell me what’s really bothering you. Is something wrong with your family?�

“No.�

“Do you have health problems?�

“No.�

Harry was slightly annoyed now. Mrs. Weasley was right; Ron was really closing up to people. He decided to take another approach.

“So, what is this thing?� Harry asked, pointing to the box and lid.

Ron eyed his friend for a second before answering, “A box.�

“You made it yourself?�

“Yes.�

“What is it for?�

“Storage.�

Harry snorted. “Look,� he exclaimed, “I know you don’t want to talk, but it would be really great if you could issue more than a single word at a time.�

Ron was looking down at his shoes. He extended his arm and touched the varnish with one finger to see if it was dry. Harry followed this movement with his eyes and noticed a tiny HG carved on the lid.

“Is this about Hermione?� Harry asked, his voice softer.

His friend didn’t even look at him as he picked up the pieces and placed them on his knees. He then bent down and took out two tiny hinges, four small screws and a screwdriver from his bag. Harry remained quiet as he observed Ron installing the hinges. Once he was done, he closed and opened the box a few times to test it and dived yet again for his backpack. This time, his hand was holding a small bag as it came out of the backpack.

Ron gently emptied its content in the box. It was petals of little wild flowers that he had picked up the week before and left to dry in his bedroom. They covered the bottom of the box, so that it was now filled with what looked like tiny drops of purple. Looking at it, Ron frowned a little as he noticed that the petals had lost most of their scent.

Lastly, he extracted Hermione’s wand from a pocket of his backpack and placed it carefully in the box.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up when he saw this.

“Is that… That’s Hermione’s wand,� he said, looking both confused and shocked.

“Yes,� Ron confirmed.

“How did you get it?�

“She gave it to me.� Harry was looking even more confused now. Ron finally looked up and saw the expression on the face of his friend. “Remember those letters you noticed on my desk a few weeks back?�

Harry nodded slightly.

“There were four of them. One from fourth year at school, one from fifth year, another from sixth year and the last one from the day before we left for the Malfoy Mansion.�

Harry’s eyes widened a little. This wasn’t what he had been expecting.

Ron kept on talking. “The last one was written specifically for the unfortunate case in which she would die during our chase to destroy Horcruxes. I was meant to receive the letters only if it happened and apparently, she wanted to give me something to remember her by. I have no idea what spell she used or how it worked; all I know is that I read what was written on a piece of parchment and the next moment her wand was in my hand.�

Ron had said all this without any pause and in a voice that was devoid of any real emotion. It was as if he was just saying facts for Harry to understand. The latter was listening to all this, trying to take it in.

“So, this is about her?� Harry hesitantly questioned.

The other rolled his eyes before he replied. “How could it not be! How would you react if, say Ginny, died and that later on you get letters from her telling you that… telling you… all of these things. And you’re just sitting here thinking that you never had the chance to tell her how you felt about her, how important she was to you, and that you miss her and that you…� Ron sighed and then opened the box to take out Hermione’s wand.

“And just when you thought you couldn’t take anything more,� he continued very low, “she gives you her wand. Do you know how important a wand is? Well, of course you do,� he added, more for himself than for his friend. Harry was listening very closely to all of this, carefully following Ron’s every move with his eyes.

“I would give anything to go back in time to tell her everything I never had the chance to, or the guts to.�

“I know what you mean,� Harry finally managed to say. Ron looked at him a little suspiciously, as if he somehow doubted this statement. “Okay, maybe I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I think I got the gist of it when Sirius passed away. And, Hermione was my friend too.�

“I know, but you seem to be taking it so much better,� Ron explained.

“Well, it’s been over a year now and in case you don’t remember, I was in no better state than you just after it happened. Especially after we brought her body back to her parents.�

“Please, don’t talk about that day,� Ron requested with a frown. That day would be engraved in his mind forever. It had been horrible, and he was sure that something had died inside of him back then. Maybe a last trace of innocence from childhood, he wasn’t sure, but what he did know is that you couldn’t explain to a mother that her child was dead without seeing the total devastation in her eyes.

“Do you think about her often?� Ron asked his friend.

“Some days more than the others; when I see something that reminds me of her, for example. I miss her a lot too.�

“I’m sure you do. Everybody misses her. Ginny wanted to talk about her, but I’ve always avoided it.�

“I know, she told me when she came to visit my flat.� Ron raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at Harry. “Hey, don’t give me that look! I invited you to come along too, but you declined the invitation.�

“Well, I…�

“Look, mate, you don’t have to explain or justify what you do. It’s just that we, your family and your friends, care about you and we’re worried. You disappear everyday, you talk as little as you can and you avoid people. That’s not something the Ron I know would do.�

“It’s true that I’ve been quieter than usual lately, but it’s just that I need to deal with this alone. Like if it was only between her and me. Can you understand that?�

“Yeah, I think I can. But dealing with your own things doesn’t mean you have to shut yourself away from the rest of the world.�

“I guess you’re right.�

“Can I make a suggestion?� Harry asked.

“About what?�

“About your situation.�

“Go ahead.�

“It may sound stupid, but if part of the problem is that you never got to tell her how you feel, why don’t you visit her grave to tell her everything? I know she won’t be able to hear you, but I know for a fact that it helps. I went to visit her grave on the anniversary of her death and I think this could help you, even if it’s only a little bit.�

Ron was looking directly into the face of his best friend, thinking. He then lowered his gaze onto the box in his lap and breathed deeply.

“It might be a good idea. I’ll think about it,� he said.

“Well, I think that would be smart of you. Now, let’s go back to your house. Your mum invited me to dinner and I can’t wait for it. And it would lift some weight off her shoulders if you could start to act a little more like your old self. She is worried sick.�

A hint of a smile appeared on Ron’s features as he got up.

“I’ll try,� he agreed, “but no talking about Hermione over dinner.�

“Ok,� Harry said.

Harry got up too and handed the cloth for Ron to put back in his bag.

“Now, will you finally come to see my flat next week? I have a few things that I think you’ll want to see.�

“Maybe,� Ron said hesitantly, but quickly changed his answer under the stare of the green eyes he knew so well. “Alright! Is Tuesday okay?�

“Tuesday’s perfect, mate!�


***


A few weeks later, Ron had finally built up the courage to visit Hermione’s grave. He was walking along one of the alleys of the small cemetery where her body had been laid to rest. He squinted at every grave he passed, searching for hers.

He soon found it- simple and elegant. It was a dark grey rectangular model engraved with her name, date of birth and death, and an angel, which was carved in one of the upper corners. It was very traditional.

It was now the evening of a beautiful end-of-August day and the light was slowly starting to fade. Ron needed to go on or he would soon be unable to read his parchment.

He looked around carefully, making sure he was completely alone, and sat down on the grass, a good six feet away from the actual stone, just to be sure he wasn’t sitting on her. He took out a roll of parchment from an inside pocket of his Muggle jacket and stretched it between his hands.

He sighed. This was hard. He had been expecting it, but now was the time to do it and a part of him just wanted to go back home and forget this idea. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes for a second or two, straightened his back, took yet another deep breath, and started to read aloud.

“Dear Hermione,�

“I’m here today because I need to tell you some things. To be honest, this isn’t my idea; it was Harry who suggested it after a talk we had a while ago. He seemed to think that telling you everything I didn’t get to say to you while you were alive would help me heal. Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but that’s close enough.�

“I thought at first that this wasn’t a particularly good idea, but the more I toyed with it, the more it appeared to be something worth trying. To tell the truth, I was kind of in a dead end before Harry suggested it. I didn’t really know what to do with my feelings.�

“I know I am not as gifted as you were with words, so don’t expect this to be a work of art; I just want to tell you a few things.�

“First, I want to thank you for all those great letters. They told me what I wanted, and needed, to know. Even though I thought at first that they wouldn’t help me, I changed my mind later on. When I read them, it felt like I was reopening a wound I thought had healed. In fact, it was just the skin that was healed; the inside was still a bloody mess. In a way, it was good to expose it and to go to the bottom of it. Maybe this way, the wound will heal better and the scar that’s left will be less harsh on the eyes.

“You said some really nice things in those letters. Well, not in all of them, but in the last one at least. You described me in such a way that I wasn’t sure if you were actually talking about me. On the other hand, I was glad you perceived me in such a nice way. It made me think I was important to you, that I mattered in your life.�

“I want you to know that you mattered in mine too, probably more than you realized. I won’t start to describe how beautiful you were, or how much of an inspiration you were for me, but I will tell you this: I came to think you were the one for me. You know, that special someone you seem to be destined to spend the rest of your life with.�

“It hurt me to read about how you felt for me when I knew I was feeling the same. It made me want to go back in time and seize the opportunities I didn’t back then. It’s frustrating to think we could have had a chance at a happy life together and that we were there, mulling each on our side.�

“Do you remember how you told me you sometimes imagined what our first kiss could have been like? Well, I did that too, but in a different way. It came to me in flashes. We would be doing something, somewhere, and an image would flash in front of my eyes; the image of me kissing you, right here and there. It was gone as soon as it came but it always left a ‘what if’ in my head. ‘What if I kiss her now?’ But I’d always shy away for some reason and that left me with this heat boiling inside of me. I came to think that it was because of that feeling that I fought with you so often.�

“There’s so much I’d like to tell you, and now that it’s finally the right time my mind is going blank. I was planning to tell you how guilty I feel for letting you down when you were duelling with Malfoy, for failing to protect you when I swore to myself when we left to help Harry that I would protect you with my own life. I wanted to explain how I was feeling towards you when you were alive and how I feel now… And I can’t bring myself to do it.�

“In your last letter, you told me that I will have to move on and that you hope that your memory won’t hold me back in life. Of that, you can be sure. It will help me go further, because I want to live up to all the things you said about me. I won’t let you down.�

“The main thing is that I don’t want to let you go, Hermione. Yet, I don’t have a choice; you’ve already left. I think it was cruel that the brightest witch of her age only got to live a few short years. It’s cruel that she isn’t there to enjoy the peaceful days she helped to bring back, now that Voldemort is gone for good.�

“It’s not easy letting go of someone you thought you could, and even should, end up with. I miss you tremendously, more than I ever thought I could miss someone. It’s strange how you sometimes don’t realize just how much you’re attached to someone until they leave. I knew all along what you were for me and how I felt towards you, but your death and your letters exposed just how much of a hold you had in my life.�

“Finally, I wanted to thank you for your present. You couldn’t have picked anything better. It means a lot to me, more than you probably thought it would.�

“I don’t want to say goodbye, because even if you are no longer by my side, you will always remain with me. You will be a part of me forever since nothing can erase the past, and even if something could, I wouldn’t erase you. It’s better to have had only a few years with you than no time at all. If, if, I ever do move on from you,
Hermione, know that you will always remain the one for me. You were an inspiration, a friend and so much more to me.�

“I miss you and I’ll never forget you.�

“Ron�

“P.S…�

But Ron couldn’t read the last sentence. He let his chin fall down on his chest and rolled up the parchment without looking at it. He then rose up and after carefully looking around him once more, took out his wand.

Stepping beside the grave, he placed the parchment on its side and performed a transfiguration charm. What had been a roll of parchment an instant before, was now a little bunch of purple wildflowers; the same as the dried petals he had used as a bed for Hermione’s wand in the wooden box.

He next made a move to leave, but turned back on his heels to face the grave once more. He raised his right arm slowly, and lightly put his three middle fingers on the stone for a moment.

Ron removed his hand and wiped his cheeks with his palms before resolutely turning to walk over to a safe place to Dissapparate. He left the cemetery shortly after, leaving it silent in the night’s air. The last line of his letter would remain forever a secret, even to an undetected eavesdropper, as a delicate wind ruffled the leaves of the purple wildflower, almost as if it was caressing it.

“P.S. I love you.�


A/N; There it is! A humongous thank you to Melissa for the great beta job on this one! And as always, I’d like to know your thoughts on this chapter and on the whole story too. If you have any questions or if you think there something I haven’t addressed that I should have, feel free to remind me about it. The only thing I won’t explain is how Ron got hold of Malfoy’s wand. The curse is lifted! The chapter is here! (That’s for those who were following the chapter six saga)

Thanks to all those who took the time to read and thank you to all who reviewed. *hugs reviewers* You’re great!