Summary: It was beautiful, really, the way Harry proposed to Ginny. Their relationship has been nothing more than a dream come true. However, with the wedding fast approaching, they must worry about how to help Ron and Hermione reconcile their differences--after all, they haven't spoken in three years. Unfortunately, the wedding plans must be put on hold with the return of an enemy--and Harry must set aside previous reservations in order to work alongside those whom he hates.
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Character Death, Violence
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: No
Word count: 12643
Read: 5995
Published: 01/11/07
Updated: 09/04/07
1. The Proposal by bluerosemarcella
2. Futile Attemps Of Convinced Reconciliation by bluerosemarcella
3. Heart-To-Hearts by bluerosemarcella
The Proposal by bluerosemarcella
A/N: This was actually started on the twenty-first of November, 2002. It has been quite a while and is still a work in progress. However, I am attempting to reacquaint myself with the pen, so to speak, and am hoping to branch out my audience. There are several chapters already, but I am going to skim and edit them, if I can, before posting. Thank you for stopping in, and I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: JK Rowling, God herself, owns these marvelous characters and their marvelous personalities!
Claimer: I own--*laughs* Oh, wait, I don't own anything!
~*~
Title: Ready For What's To Come?
Time Period: Ron, Harry, and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts three years back, and went their separate ways. So they're about twenty, twenty-one.
Summary: Ginny and Harry have news to announce to the wizarding world...Will it bring their two best friends back into ties again, or simply push them further apart? Ginny and Harry fight to make peace between them all.
Shipping: H/G, and R/Hr later
~*~
Ready For What's To Come?
~*~
It was a warm Spring night. The moon was full, the stars shining magnificently in the velvet-like sky, and the grown couple who was treading the grounds of the Weasley home, weaving through the moonbeams and star light, talking merrily and enjoying one another's pleasant company. The night seemed, in a matter of words, magical beyond the power of imagination. Dew had begun to settle upon the grass, gently moistening his shoes, while whole-heartedly teasing her bare feet with soft chills. The branches of the trees were swaying, as if to a heart-filled ballad that only reached the ears of the lovers standing beneath.
His hand ventured into his pocket, caressing a mysterious item there that he dared not reveal at that moment. While this hand was busy, as was the other occupied, his fingers intertwined with hers. He could feel her soft and silky palm grazing against his own ever so gently, sending warmth through his soul and electricity up his spine.
Finally, as they were nearing a stone bench constructed by Arthur Weasley, the man turned to the woman, and bade her to take a seat. She complied, refusing to release his hand even as she sat and he remained standing. She looked at him curiously, as if trying to probe his mind with her soft blue eyes by judgment of his countenance.
He took notice of this immediately and with as much of his might as he could muster, strived to avoid her unspoken questioning. At last, she spoke.
"Harry," she began with concern, "what is it? Is something wrong?"
Her voice seemed to tinkle like a thousand gorgeous bells as he allowed her words to reach his ears and soothe his body as they always did. He smiled gently. "Nothing's wrong. In fact, it's all going quite right."
This, if possible, affected her facial features even more with striking puzzlement at his behavior. "What is it, then?"
"Listen, Love," he began, kneeling before her to look properly into her ocean-like eyes. "We've been together for ages, with nothing to tear us apart. We've had some sore spots along the way, yes, as every couple endures. But--Well, I suppose I'm rather bad at this sort of mushy thing--So I guess I'll be straight-forward. I love you, with everything I am." This inspired a slow, tender smile to reach her lips. His heart pounding now with nervousness and his brow becoming slightly more moist, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the delicate item, presenting it to her. At first she didn't understand, but then it seemed to dawn upon her, as she rose a tentative hand to her mouth in surprise. "Ginny Weasley--Would you marry me?"
It was like the moon suddenly shone brighter, and the stars suddenly dazzled with more excitement. The wind blew by more gently and the trees swayed to a faster beat. But nothing struck her as more extraordinary than his emerald green eyes dancing before her, with a mixture of love, admiration, and hope. She gently caressed the hand that he lay in hers, illustrating her tender feelings towards him and smiling through the unexpectant tears that she hadn't noticed were streaking her face. At long last, following her initial shock, she nodded. "Yes. I will marry you, Harry Potter."
The grin that came now across his face was unlike one she had ever witnessed before. It was as if everything for him finally made sense and was decorated with utter perfection, perfection even he could not manage to crack under the power of a hundred curses. He swept her into his arms and spun her around, both laughing with glee. He then set her down and they shared a kiss of love and wonder before making their way back to The Burrow.
Upon opening the back door and piling back into the cozy home, Molly Weasley smiled at the two from behind her cooking book, while Arthur also seemed to beam over his copy of The Daily Prophet. Both had grown in respectable age, beginning to find traces of the expected gray hairs and witnessing each of their children's growing and leaving of their long-time home. The home that had once been filled with the endless laughing and yelling and arguing, with a tinge every now and then of Fred and George's creations exploding from the upstairs bedroom and interrupting such precious scoldings, distracting either parent from their initial punishment and allowing the victim to scurry away to a safer refuge while Fred and George were blamed once again. The children had grown so beautifully that Arthur often found Molly in tears of joy, blubbering over something in regards to 'raising them properly' and 'no longer being able to watch them grow.' It was no small feat, really, to appropriately raise seven children of various credibilities and personalities, and the job was granted, just perfectly, to these two adults whose judgments and hearts were in the right place.
Harry could never have thanked them properly enough, despite how hard he may try. They were more like parents than his aunt and uncle had ever been, and The Burrow was more of a home than Number 4, Privet Drive. The Burrow was filled with kindness and gingerness, and the atmosphere of a loving environment. He could never find anything else to compare.
"Oh, hello, Dears, back from your walk already? That was short," Molly gushed, softly closing the cookbook.
"What do you mean, Molly? They were gone for nearly an hour--" Arthur was cut short when Mrs. Weasley indiscreetly set the book down--rather harshly--atop Arthur's fingers. He drew them back hastily, but nevertheless, kept his mouth shut.
"Yes, Mum," said Ginny happily. "It's lovely outside."
"Thank you again, Mrs. Weasley, for inviting us over for dinner," Harry added.
"Come now, Harry, must I tell you every time you visit that you may call me Molly?"
"Sorry, Mrs--Molly," he corrected, earning a swelling smile from Mrs. Weasley's lips.
Harry could feel Ginny's eyes on him, as if silently pushing him to announce the news. Why she was putting such a burden on him, he wasn't sure, seeing as they were her parents, and not his. He met her eyes, telling her all of this with his gaze, but she seemed to be persistent as ever.
"Mum, Dad," she began with a grin, and then gestured to Harry, "Harry has something to tell you."
Harry sighed and forced a smile. It hadn't occurred to him how the Weasleys might react to giving their youngest child away. But they had known and loved him for nearly half of his life, and, he concluded, should be properly ecstatic at the news. He looked upon their anxious faces with hope, silently praying that he was right in his assumptions.
"I've asked Ginny to marry me," he announced. As if for proof, Ginny raised her right hand to indicate the glowing gem upon her ring finger. Harry was, to say, quite pleased with their reactions. Mrs. Weasley squealed happily and rushed towards them, ambushing them with hugs and kisses and crying with mirth. Mr. Weasley dropped his paper onto the table in pure joy and stood, crying out, "Well, it's about time! Congratulations to the both of you!" He rushed over to join Molly, hugging and kissing Ginny as she had, and moving towards Harry. Harry put out his hand for a shake, being what he expected, but instead, Arthur pulled him into a fatherly embrace.
When the congratulations were over and everything back to semi-normal, the four settled into the livingroom in respective seating areas, Harry putting an arm around Ginny's slim shoulders.
"This is so wonderful," Molly repeated once again, rambling off ideas for the wedding, summoning various books over to her lap and thumbing through them for more suggestions.
Mr. Weasley was beaming at them proudly. "Wait until I tell the rest of the family, they'll be so excited."
Harry cut in. "Sir, if you could not tell Ron yet...That would be nice. I'd like to tell him myself."
Mr. Weasley nodded. "Of course, of course, understandable. When was the last time you saw him?"
Harry thought this through. It had been a while since he'd seen Ron or Hermione. The three had gone their separate ways, still managing to keep in touch. He was well aware, however, that Ron and Hermione hadn't been on speaking terms for years. He had never quite heard the entire story of why, though. "Last time I saw him...Had to be before he went over to Egypt to assist Bill at Gringotts."
"That was nearly three years ago," Molly explained rationally, in apparent surprise. "Does he owl you often?"
"Yeah, nearly twice a week," Harry reassured. Molly seemed much more relieved at this news.
"And Hermione?"
"I haven't seen her since she began teaching Transfiguration over at Hogwarts," Harry responded, realizing that this had occurred approximately three years ago, as well.
"Are she and Ron on speaking terms yet?" Arthur demanded, his tone indicating the ridiculousness of their spats.
"I don't think so," said Harry with about as much defeat as Arthur had had. He and Ginny exchanged worried glances. They had already assumed that Hermione and Ron would be in the wedding party, but hadn't stopped to think about how they were getting on.
"I'll visit Ron tomorrow," Harry vowed after extreme thought, softly squeezing Ginny's hand.
~*~
Harry fell to the ground, finding himself in a dark passageway lit only by torches lined in brackets down either wall of the tunnel. He straightened his glasses and recovered from this apparation, beginning to step forward towards the area he saw most light in. His path was blocked by a goblin, who had stepped in his way at the last moment. "May I help you?"
"Er--Yes," Harry said, still a bit surprised from this goblin's hasty appearance. "I'm looking for Ronald Weasley."
The goblin's face seemed to contort into even more distaste than it had previously shown. "What's your business with Weasley?"
"Tell him his best friend has come to see him, it's rather urgent, but not an emergency," he added hastily as conclusion, so as not to allow the goblin to startle Ron into a panic.
The goblin seemed to take this all into consideration, and then, at last, made a questionable gesture with his abnormally long fingers. "Follow me," he grunted, beginning to make his way towards the light, the direction Harry had been heading in. Traveling down the long passageway, Harry noted that the tunnels were very similar to the very ones he had ridden through on the cart before his first year, the tunnels that had led him to the vault he didn't know he had inherited from his parents.
Finally, as they reached the light, Harry found himself in a bright, large, marble room, also comparatively similar to the Gringotts he was used to. He found himself questioning whether Gringotts was made up of chains of several offices across the continent, and made a mental note to ask Hermione about it later, not doubting she'd read it in one place or another. Goblins were jotting numbers and figures down, and tending to mountains of gold and silver and bronze were being sorted into appropriate bags and boxes, weighting coins, everything Harry was used to seeing. Except, this location seemed to harbor far more wizards working alongside the goblins.
Then, he saw it. The distinguishable red Weasley hair. Not the right Weasley, though. It was unmistakably Bill, the oldest. He was wearing a scarlet and gold uniform that every creature in the room was wearing. However, Bill seemed to wear the outfit with a certain dignity, causing it to have the potential of becoming a fashion statement. Harry had always somewhat looked up to Bill, knowing from the first conversation that he was easily one of the coolest, most easy-going guys he'd ever talked to in his life. He was slaving over a large bag of gold; he then flung it into a cart and gave it a light tap. It went on its way into one of the many tunnels.
The goblin Harry had nearly fallen over in the tunnel led him towards Bill. He curled a long, gnarled finger in Bill's direction, summoning him over. The oldest Weasley wiped his brow of sweat, and squinted his eyes, as if seeing the wizarding guest wrongly the first time. With the doubletake, he realized it was indeed Harry, and sported a grin, rushing over to greet him.
"Hullo, Harry!" he spoke happily, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously. "Got Mum's owl just moments ago, she told me about you and Ginny, congratulations, mate! You're the right one for her." He then clapped a large hand on Harry's shoulder, nearly knocking the younger off his feet.
"Er, thanks," Harry said, a bit taken off-guard by the gesture.
"I suppose you're looking for Ron?"
"Yeah," Harry confirmed. Bill nodded and made a hand gesture to the goblin, speaking a string of Gobbledook, and waving him off politely, causing Harry to conclude it was his formal way of requesting he fetch Ron. The goblin bowed slightly in good manners, the nastiness still present in his countenance, and he traveled off. Bill turned his attention back to Harry.
"Mum told me in the letter all about how Ron and Hermione haven't spoken since you all went your own ways. Bloody ridiculous! You three are best friends, right? What's their problems? Ron was always stubborn, it doesn't much surprise me. I feel sorry for his future wife. He'll drive her over the edge with his tendency to stick to his ways...Blimey."
Harry nodded and voiced his agreement. Indeed, Ron and Hermione were both stubborn as mules. Which was part of the reason he saw them in similar lights. They would be perfect for one another, but, both too headstrong and proud to admit that they both saw it clearly. It had been first made most apparent to Harry in their fourth year, when he witnessed the large deal made from Krum and Hermione's friendship. Ron had held a strong grudge against Krum for ages following. However, there were instances sooner than their age of fourteen. In their second year, Ron had become most distressed over Hermione's petrification, overcoming even his biggest fear in order to save her: the spiders in the Forbidden Forest.
Bill was still saying something about Ron being 'an annoying but lovable little bloke,' leading Harry over to his work so that he could continue laboring while awaiting Ron's arrival. Bill gestured to Harry, as if requesting that Harry assist him in hauling bags of gold onto the next cart, which, Harry noticed, had appeared suddenly after the last had taken off. Bill hurled bag after bag into carts, while Harry tried thoroughly to so much as lift a bag. He was having a rough time sliding one of them up into the cart, sending his glasses askew, hoping for Ron's short arrival so that he could be excused from this duty. He couldn't have thought of it soon enough--Ron returned with the goblin, looking puzzled.
He had changed some, Harry noticed. His red hair seemed much more tame, and he'd gotten a haircut, which suited him nicely, as a matter of fact. He wore the same uniform as Bill, but didn't seem to wear it as well, and it seemed to oddly clash with his hair, much more than it had on the eldest Weasley brother. Ron had also grown a small bit stockier, no doubt from the exhausting exercise of heaving mounds of gold around day after day. Harry decided, from looking at Ron's newly developed muscles, that this job may not be too bad, and he could use a bit of a workout himself. Ron had his characteristic smudges of dirt here and there across the ivory skin on his face, which wasn't unusual for him. As if reading Harry's mind, he reached up just then to wipe detected dirt from his long nose.
"Oi! Ronald!" Bill called from their spot, waving his brother over. Ron spotted Harry, and did nearly the same thing Bill had done. He squinted in concentration, taking a moment to register, then broke into a large grin, hurrying over.
"Harry! How you been, mate?" he asked cheerily, sharing a brotherly hug with Harry.
"I've been grand, and yourself?" Harry replied, gesturing to Bill to excuse him from bag-hauling, silently grateful. Bill simply nodded in farewell as Ron led Harry towards a small tunnel.
"I've been splendid," Ron responded, coming across a door in the tunnel. He opened it, and Harry realized that this was a small office. There were a few moving wizard photographs on his desk. One from Hogsmeade, sixth year. He noticed, but kept to himself, that there was an untidy tear on the side of the picture; Ron had ripped Hermione out of the photograph. The picture version of Harry kept glancing to the right, as if puzzled at not seeing Hermione there any longer. Photograph Ron looked pleased though, trying to re-divert Harry's attention back to waving at the camera and displaying their sweets from Honeydukes.
Harry's eyes wandered around the remainder of the office, from the photographs to the paperwork, to the awards and achievements proudly framed and placed around the walls, which, Harry was pleased to see, where electric orange to match Ron's former bedroom at The Burrow. He also spotted a poster of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favorite wizarding Quidditch team.
He glanced at the bookshelf, which harbored few books, seeing as Ron wasn't too keen on reading. And all the books that were there were in regards to Quidditch, and one thin volume about Gringott's, probably for reference if nothing else. The rest of the bookshelf held various things, such as letters and cards. From a small perch near the back wall, Harry spotted Pigwidgeon, looking quite a bit more aged than he had been when Sirius first awarded the owl to Ron.
"So, what can I do for you, Harry?" Ron asked, taking a seat at his desk, his position of importance and authority. Still grinning, he gestured to a chair before the desk, indicating that Harry was to take a seat. The standing man did so, clearing his throat. It was quite apparent that Ron was incredibly happy with his job. It made Harry quite pleased, really, to see Ron so proud of himself and his accomplishments. Harry knew that it was something Ron dreamed of, day after day, and that working alongside Bill was no damper. He and Bill got along marvelously, from what Harry had been told, and Bill treated him as a friend rather than a brother.
"I thought I'd drop in," Harry began. He cleared his throat once again and continued. "You know that Ginny and I have been dating for a while now..."
"Of course. Smashing couple, you two make," Ron confirmed, his smile growing larger with every second. He'd ripped open a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, offering Harry a handful. Harry smiled feebly, aware that he was probably turning slightly red at this compliment, accepting the sweets.
"Thanks," he muttered. "Well, Ron, I'm happy to announce that Ginny and I are getting married."
Ron dropped the box of Beans he'd been holding, causing them to spill and roll across the mahogany desk. Before Harry had time to react to the flood of sweets, Ron had leapt up and practically across the desk to shake Harry's hand in congratulations. "Bloody brilliant, mate! That's wonderful! How long have you been engaged?"
"Only since last night," Harry explained. It made him quite happy to see Ron react so joyously to this news, not knowing what exactly to expect from him previously.
"Splendid! I'm the best man, aren't I?" Ron said, as more of a statement than a question. He knew the answer, and Harry knew this.
"Who else would I ever pick?" Harry asked rationally with a grin. Ron gave him another brief hug of congratulations, and then something seemed to dawn upon him. His smile faded slowly.
"What?" Harry asked hastily, disappointed that Ron's excitement was wearing away. "What is it?"
"It's only..." Ron began, glancing briefly at the ripped Hogsmeade picture. "Ginny'd be asking Hermione to be her Maid of Honor, wouldn't she?"
Harry sighed, having been expecting this confrontation, but dreading it. "Listen, Ron..." But Ron had seen a lecture coming from far away, and sank into one of his chairs, looking sulkily at Harry. He's hardly changed a bit, Harry thought to himself as he witnessed this somewhat childish but distinguishable characteristic of Ron. "It's been nearly three years since you two have spoken. Isn't it about time to put an end to this childish rivalry?"
"You don't get it, Harry," Ron said, seemingly dazed, lost in his own thoughts. "You don't get it, at all."
"Why don't you explain it to me then?" Harry asked hopefully. Ron released a sigh of defeat.
"All right. Here goes..."
~*~
A/N: Please review with your thoughts, questions, and concerns! What's To Come: Ron spills his guts to Harry about the Hermione situation...Ginny has a similar talk with Hermione...
Futile Attemps Of Convinced Reconciliation by bluerosemarcella
Author's Notes:
This was actually started on the twenty-first of November, 2002. It has been quite a while and is still a work in progress. However, I am attempting to reacquaint myself with the pen, so to speak, and am hoping to branch out my audience. There are several chapters already, but I am going to skim and edit them, if I can, before posting. Thank you for stopping in, and I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: JK Rowling, God herself, owns these marvelous characters and their marvelous personalities!
Claimer: I own--*laughs* Oh, wait, I don't own anything!
Chapter Two: Futile Attempts Of Convinced Reconciliation
~*~
Ginny glided through the double doors of the entrance hall, gently allowing them to shut behind her; despite her ginger touch, however, the slam echoed throughout the castle. This clamor was a vague yet familiar noise to her, memories of her very own Hogwarts days seeping back into her mind. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It was this very school in which she had been bewitched to open the Chamberâ”her very first yearâ”speechless and love-struck when the raven-haired boy had come down to save her. She smiled faintly, touching the stone wall with her palm. The limestone seemed so cold, yet it was a comforting sensation nonetheless.
Aside from this chill, the castle was considerably warmer than the outdoors had been. She undid the top few clasps of her white traveling robes, making her way towards McGonagall's old office, where she could only assume Hermione would be settled.
As she walked, she couldn't help but be distracted by various paintings along the deserted corridor walls. The halls were utterly silent aside from the persistent yowling of Mrs. Norris somewhere nearby. Class was in session at the moment, she deduced. Settling on the idea of having a look around, so as not to disturb Hermione in the middle of a lesson, she privileged herself. The castle hadn't appeared to change at all in the two years since her graduation. Some of the paintings had swapped positions, no doubt due to Peeves's playful and mischievous nature. Several things constantly had to be relocated because of Peeves's carelessness.
Nostalgia was succeeding in creeping up on her. Truthfully, on some occasions, the young red-headed woman caught herself wistfully wishing her Hogwarts days had not flown so quicklyâ”at times she missed Hogwarts dearly. In all honesty, she sometimes found herself wishing that her most notable concerns were attributed to homework assignments once more, naĂŻve and oblivious to the complications that would eventually arise upon reaching adulthood. It was not as though life had been particularly challenging since her departure from school, but she was well aware of the minor pains of life that as children, one fails to notice. Childhood naivety is perhaps more of a gift than a curseâ”what she would not give to pretend certain ugly things were not happening in the world today.
Her climaxing internal struggle was abruptly halted. Her eye caught, she found herself stopped at a painting she had never noticed before. It was a detailed portrait of a tall man, brown-eyed with unruly black locks. Beside him, wrapped in his right arm was a woman with red hair and eyes of emerald. In her arms she nursed a newborn. It took a couple moments and a few deep, reminiscently asthmatic breaths to slow her heart-rate, having initially thought the picture to don herself and her husband-to-be. It took only moments to register, but it occurred to herâ”The picture was of Lily and James Potter.
She was astounded at the remarkable likenesses. As she inspected the piece further, however, she found herself noticing several distinct differences, calming the frantic muscle pounding in her left breast.
The youngest Weasley found herself morbidly curious as to why she had never spotted this painting any time before. It could be assumed that it had once hung in a restricted section of the castle. Perhaps the third floor corridor. Yes, that seemed logical. But why would Dumbledore wish to keep such a beautiful tribute so very hidden?
She studied the work of art with unmitigated sadness as the people in the picture moved slightly, the couple beaming at one another and their infant. Almost feeling the tears building in her eyes, she raised her fingers to gingerly wipe the brow of a baby Harry.
âExcuse me, may I help you?â
Ginny jumped in surprise, startled from her reverie, and turned around abruptly. She gave a sigh of relief when she gazed at her onlooker. She took in his features to register his identity, taking all of what seemed like five minutes but was really only an instant. The graying brown hair and the medium build, the tattered robes, and the boyish smile gave him away. He had been, admittedly, the best Defense Against The Dark Arts instructor to ever teach at Hogwarts. Sure, Mad-Eye would have been an admirable professor, had he not secretly been a former Azkaban prisoner, content on allowing his mother to die in his stead as long as he could perform the Dark Lordâs bidding once more.
âProfessor Lupin,â she breathed, feeling her heart-rate return to normal once again. âYou certainly startled me.â
âTo avoid fright, maybe one should not roam the castle alone,â Remus offered. âAfter all, you should know from your seven years here that these walls are filled with surprises galore.â
She recalled that this middle-aged man had not always been as carefree as depicted at this very moment. It wasn't until the numerous charges against his best friend were dropped, testified for by Remus himself, Albus Dumbledore, and Ginnyâs father, Arthur Weasley. Remus had offered eye-witness testimony to Wormtailâs return and confession, supported by Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Dumbledore vouched for Siriusâs character and Arthur, through his position at the Ministry, had recruited several more witnesses who had spotted Wormtail around the continent.
Ever since Sirius had become a free man, Remusâ smile always seemed more genuine, knowing that at least one of his friends was still by his side, and would remain loyal until he died. The two now shared a small house in the Hogsmeade village, where they were free and open to reminisce as they pleased. Despite the fact that Sirius had always been closer to James, there was now a new-found bond between himself and Lupin that reigned supreme from their friendship in their school days.
âHave you heard yet?â Ginny asked, nearly forgetting to spread her own good cheer. Remus nodded in reply, his smile broadening if at all possible.
âHarry owled Sirius and me earlier this morning. Bless his heart. I thought Sirius was going to bust with joy. He read the letter and the bulb above the table burst. Been a long time since his emotions have been so powerful as to manipulate his magical abilities. Said something about seeing his best friend's son growing up and becoming a man, that sort of mushy pish posh.â His countenance betrayed his ridiculing words, however, as Ginny saw that he was positively beaming.
âYou'll be sure to be there, right?â Ginny questioned hastily. He nodded.
âWe wouldn't miss it for the world. Now, dare I ask, what the future Mrs. Potter is doing roaming Hogwarts this time of year?â
Ginny had nearly forgotten her objective, and shook her head, as if to regain her composure and train of thought. âOh, right. I was looking for Hermione. Need to have a bit of a chat with her about this wedding.â
âAh. Ron?â Lupin inquired. Ginny nodded, her face brimming with exasperation. âYes, she has a class in session right now, but Iâd be happy to escort you.â
With that, he began to lead her in the opposite direction. Amidst their small talk, Ginny still managed to steal glances at the pictures on either side of them that sheâd never noticed before. Finally, as they were rounding the corner and heading up the familiar staircase, she recognized her way and knew that the transfiguration classroom was nearby.
âThere you are,â Lupin finished, presenting the door to her. She smiled.
âThank you, Professâ”â
âYou may call me Remus, Ginny,â Lupin offered, his expression still soft with joy. âI am no longer your teacher, and you are no longer a student.â
She hesitated, unfamiliar with addressing him in this nature, but smiled. âRemus. It was a pleasure seeing you again. I look forward to seeing you at the wedding.â
âWeâll be there, front row, with handkerchiefs. And Iâm sure at least one of us will be weeping like a bloody prat,â Remus replied with a wink and a chortle. And then, they went their separate ways.
Ginny smiled softly to herself as she watched her former professor retreat. How pleasing it had been to see a twinkle in Remusâs eyes, after so long of being forlorn. It seemed hard to imagine how he had felt for such a long timeâ”to his knowledge, three of his four best friends were dead, and the last imprisoned for partial responsibility in the deaths. She could never fathom being in the same positionâ”what if Ron, Harry, and Hermione were suddenly gone, all in less than a fortnight? She would be beside herself with survivorâs guilt. Yes. Remus was certainly a strong man.
She exhaled slowly, leaving her depressing thoughts where they left off. Deciding to finally focus on what she had came here for, she heard Hermioneâs voice from within, speaking, consequently, about Animagi. Ginny suddenly began pondering about what she would say to Hermioneâ”She had to be convincing, of course. She had to conquer Hermioneâs qualms and talk her out of this ridiculous business.
She raised a fist and tapped it on the door. Hermioneâs voice faltered upon hearing a guest. Swift footsteps were heard and the door opened, revealing a slightly-changed woman. Her bushy hair that had always been her trademark was pulled back into an elegant bun, slightly reminiscent of Professor McGonagallâs. Her maroon robes were worn nicely by her body, which, Ginny noticed easily, had acquired more accentuated and accurate curves, Ginny being a woman herself and recognizing such changes. Her caramel eyes were still ablaze with amazement at the idea of books and studying, and even more so sparkling with the notion of teaching.
Hermione took a moment to recognize Ginny, but once she did, her jaw dropped. Ginny grinned and pulled her friend into a hug.
âGinny!â Hermione cried excitedly, her attitude more like that of her teenage self than of a grown adult witch teaching Transfiguration. Over her shoulder, Ginny noticed that the students in the class looked puzzled and bewildered, even all-out shocked, at this reaction. Ginny figured it must have been like seeing Professor McGonagall break into song in a serenade of Christmas Carols. Professors just werenât expected to break out of their stereotypical molds.
Ginny stifled a giggle and gestured to Hermione's class. She turned back to them, remembering their presence. âOhâŚGin, it really isnât the best timeâŚIâm sort ofâŚâ she trailed off pathetically, gesturing to the group of school children behind her.
âI need to talk to you. Itâs rather important,â Ginny said softly, her excitement hardly contained. Hermione, seemingly torn between childhood and authority, pursed her lips together tightly and sighed, turning upon her students.
âYouâre in for a bit of luck today.â She winced as she said this, as though it pained her a great deal to do it. âYouâre dismissed five minutes early. Go to lunch.â
There was a brief moment of silence in which the students fought to register their instructorâs words. Then, all of a sudden, they all began to jump up excitedly, fumbling for their belongingsâ”shocked, but anxious to escape before she changed her mind.
Hermione wrung her hands together, seemingly unable to accept her sacrifice of such valuable teaching time. She just couldnât help herself. âBut, don't think this means youâre off the hook. Since class is out early, I want you to give me a three-foot parchment tomorrow on Unregistered Animagi.â The class groaned, their spirits slightly more downcast, as they shuffled out of the room, mumbling things Ginny could vividly recall Ron saying on a daily basis; things that often made Hermione gasp in horror and exclaim, âRon!â reproachfully.
âSo, now that my class is gone,â Hermione began sullenly, disappointed at the empty desks; it was not, however, enough of a distraction from the excitement of seeing an old friend, âwhat's so important?â She gestured to Ginny, indicating that she follow her into the classroom. The room, Ginny noticed, hadnât changed a bit. Hermione kept mostly to McGonagall's transfiguration diagrams. There was one noticeably new piece, however: a vivid depiction of a porcupine changing into a pincushion, over and over again as the picture repeated its movements.
Ginny smiled and outstretched her hand, so that the ring was only dangling underneath Hermioneâs nose. She didn't catch on at first, glancing at it and smiling fondly. âWhat a beautiful ring! Is it a Weasley heirloom?â Ginny sighed and began indiscreetly humming the wedding march. âA singing ring?â Hermione asked breathlessly, always amazed at further discoveries of the Wizarding World.
âGolly, Hermione, for such a smart witch, sometimes you can be so daft!â Ginny joked. Hermione puffed up indignantly, opening her mouth for an undoubtedly witty retort, when, freezing in that position, it all seemed to dawn on her at once.
âHold itâŚThatâs anâ”thatâs an engagement ring!â she gasped. âDonât tell meâŚYou and Harry?â”â
âYes, the very same,â Ginny said in amusement, enjoying the look of fresh alarm on Hermioneâs face. âHe just proposed last night. I was going to owl you, but I wanted to tell you in person and ask you to be my Witch of Honor.â
Hermione seemed to positively glow with pride. âWhy, of course, Iâd love to!â
Ginny let out the deep breath that she had been holding through the entire conversation. This had been loads easier than she thought. She suddenly felt guilty for not giving Hermione enough credit. She was a grown woman, after allâ”she understood such matters of importanceâ”she was too smart to let an age-old grudge get in the way of her friendâs happiness.
She was such a good friend.
âGreat! Now after Harry talks to Ronald, we can allâ”â
âWait, hold on,â Hermione cut in, her excitement ebbing away significantly. Ginny paused. Hermione was looking at her as if she had just said a curse. Which, she supposed, she had, in Hermioneâs eyes. âYou said the âRâ word,â Hermione deadpanned.
ââThe âRâ wordâ?â Ginny sputtered indignantly, unable to believe her own ears. âHermione, how old are we? Weâre mature enough to use peopleâs real names by now, donât you think?â
But Hermione looked livid.
âNo. I haven't spoken toâ”Himâ”in three years. And I donât plan on doing so any time soon. I donât care how many galleons you pay me to do it.â
âHermione,â Ginny whined in a pleading tone, following Hermione as she retreated to her office. She was hardly able to keep herself from dropping to her knees, prepared to beg. âCâmon, donât be a child, this is my wedding. You canât expect me to have you there and not my brother.â
Hermione began tidying things up, something that helped her distract herself. Her eyes flashed uncertainly; Ginny was certain that the wheels were turning, sifting through each and all of the possible responses and outcomes. She sighed, silent for a mere moment, then turned to look at Ginny. âYouâre absolutely right. I canât ask you not to have him there.â
Ginny let out another sigh of relief. âI always knew you were a smart witch, Hermione. Harry said weâd run into problems, but I knew youâd understand thatâ”â
âHave your brother there. But I canât come.â
The petite redhead released a noise that sounded somewhere between a groan of frustration and a vicious growl from deep in her chest. âWhat on Earth are you going on about?â she demanded. âThatâs not fair! I want you both there!â
Hermione looked positively guilt-ridden at this point, but seemed determined to stand her ground. She winced visibly as she was bitten by her own candy dish in an attempt to reach over it for a pile of parchment.
âI donât want to see his ugly, smug, freckle-covered face ever again,â she insisted forcefully, though noticeably regretful to be speaking these words. She had now moved on from tidying to flipping through her Transfiguration lesson plan, which, Ginny noticed, was elaborately color-coded and organized.
âWhat happened between you two, anyway?â Ginny demanded. âThe least you can do is offer me some sort of explanation for why you insist on making this so very difficult for me!â
Hermione sighed, ceasing to flip but keeping her eyes trained upon her desk. âIâm not sure where I would even begin to explain that.â
âHow about the beginning?â Ginny offered grumpily. Hermione gazed out the window of her office, watching the Hufflepuff Quidditch training happening on the grounds.
âI suppose then, it all started in seventh year,â Hermione began. âActuallyâŚNo, it really started in first year. It was when Ron sacrificed himself in that chess game that I really began toâŚâ An expectant look on Ginny's face caused Hermione to regain herself, clear her throat, and change her sentence. âI began to admire him, as a friend. Anyhow, after that, I suppose we were closer, but I always seemed to be in the way when he and Harry were together. They were best friends. I felt like the tag-along, andâ”â
âWhere is this going, Hermione?â Ginny asked impatiently, eager to know the gist.
Hermione sighed in defeat. She wasnât used to ever cutting a story short. But she supposed it would be best for her to do so on this occasion. âThen, I guess, it started the night before graduation. McGonagall called me into her office. She told me Iâd scored so high on the N.E.W.T.s and on my Transfiguration exam, that she reckoned I was fit to teach the class as she was taking over for Studies Of Ancient Runes the next year. She said I would start my training the following week if I was interested. So I headed down to the Great Hall to tell Harry andâ”Him my good newsâŚâ
-
ââŚAnd then she came down for supper and I jumped up with my letter from Bill. I was gonna ask her to attend the job acceptance banquet the following week with me. But before I could tell her, she jumped in, going on something crazy about teaching Transfiguration. I interrupted her and handed her my letter, and I was about to ask her, when she said, âGood job, Ron. Iâm proud of you!' and all that sod,â Ron said sulkily, Harry fighting to hide his amusement at Ronâs accurate attempt at Hermioneâs high-pitched squeal. âAnyway, then she went on to talk about her training and howââ”Ron visibly shuddered at this pointâ”âKrum would be co-teaching with Madam Hooch on flying and Quidditch the next year, and how she was excited about seeing him.
âAs you can imagine, it hurt something awful to hear her belittle my accomplishment, and reject to accompany me to an important banquet, and then have the audacity to begin rambling about Viktor Krum to me, as if I were immune to her treatment! Can you believe it?â
âHardly,â sighed Harry sarcastically. âAnd that was when you accused her of becoming a ruddy old spinster?â Ron winced but nevertheless stuck up for himself.
âI had the right! She was seventeen and going into the teaching business. A workaholic nut, that one, I tell you. Studies before emotions, as usual. School had always been more important than me. Than you, too,â he added hastily, turning slightly red. âLike life after Hogwarts left no connections with her best friends. Like she used us because we were the only ones stupid enough to befriend her! Ruddy moronic of us. If we had seen through that coverâŚâ
Harry couldnât help but look at Ron with a strange knot in his stomach. Ron was talking crazy. It was like Snape confessing his love for butterflies and daisies and the Slytherins readily agreeing. It just didn't add upâ”much less make sense.
âRon, have you ever asked her about it?â Harry asked, trying to refrain from giving the bloke a few swift kicks to the knees and telling him how stupid he was being in grasping for pathetic excuses.
âNo, and I donât plan on ever speaking to her again. She can go teach Transfiguration and buddy up to Viktor Krum. I donât care. I donât care if she ever looks at me again. I hope Malfoy curses her.â
-
âAnd I wouldnât care if he belched slugs for the rest of his life,â Hermione concluded, her breathing heavy and her face set to some mix between anger and grief. She looked as if she had just run a marathon, the way her face had reddened and how near she was to hyperventilating. She looked out the window again, and Ginny noticed this time that Krum was helpful in instructing the Hufflepuffs.
âBut then you called him a juvenile headstrong prat,â Ginny quipped.
âOnly after he called me a ruddy spinster,â Hermione defended.
Ginny sighed. âSo. Did anything happen between you and Krum?â
âOf course not. I only brought him up because I was excited that I would have a friend during my training. I knew I wouldn't have to go on alone, Iâd have Viktor to keep me company, at the same pace as me.â
âWhy are you two so bloody dense?â Ginny demanded with a sigh, setting down the tea Hermione had summoned for her. âThis was some ridiculous, forgivable spat. Okay, thatâs settled, now letâs go meet with Ron and Harry and weâll work out how toâ”â
âHarryâs with that great git as we speak?â Hermione demanded in disbelief. The expression on her face made it seem that she had been mercilessly betrayed.
âFine, if thatâs how youâre going to be about itâŚâ Ginny trailed off, standing. Hermione sighed.
âI donât know how Iâll be able to make it if I have to be within a mile of your brother, Gin, Iâm sorryâŚâ
âSay his bloody name!â Ginny pleaded impatiently, stomping her foot like a child.
âNot anytime soon,â Hermione resolved, looking out the window distantly, as if to signal that the conversation was at a definite stand-still. Ginny interpreted this as her exit cue.
âFine,â Ginny sighed. âOwl me when youâve grown up.â With that, she gathered her white robes and marched out of the office and down the stairs. Uncharacteristically of Ginny, she was fuming. It was rather selfish, she thought, of Hermione and Ron to be so childish with her and Harryâs special day slowly approaching. It wasnât fair for them to put her in this position. Or Harry.
She wasnât sure that she had ever been so angry in her entire life. Of all the careless and inconsiderate things her six brothers had done or said to her in nineteen years, nothing had made her feel quite like this.
She privately wondered how Ron was taking things. Surely no better. She had actually expected Hermione to be far more mature about it. Sorely mistaken on her part, apparently.
Poor Harry. It came down to having only one of his dearest friends in the ceremony because they were both too bloody stupid to spend a single day together.
And she hated them both for it.
Ginny consulted her watch, which was much like the clock in The Burrow. Harryâs hand was on âDeep Discussion,â indicating that he and Ron were still together. In the upper corner of the watch, the actual time told her that she had finished her conversation with Hermione an hour earlier than planned. She and Harry would not meet up again until that point.
She sighed. She certainly did not feel like killing time. What she truly wanted to do was go home and down a shot of Firewhiskey, despite what her mother would say. Nevertheless, Ginny made her way back into Hogsmeade.
She perused Honeydukes, Zonkoâs, and a local Quidditch store, exiting with large bags of purchases. Ever since she had become a reporter for The Prophet, she'd made more money than she was used to having. It seemed so easy to go through and spend loads of it. Not to mention the fact that her heart always felt a bit lighter after some retail therapy. After carefully selecting presents for Harry and treating herself to some of her own prizes, she then took a load off her feet by settling into Three Broomsticks, greeting Madam Rosmerta warmly and requesting a Butterbeer.
âOi, Gin!â
She looked up and saw two familiar (not to mention identical) freckled faces with mops of red hair. They hurried over and settled into her booth across from her. âNice bit of buyings youâve got there, isnât it?â Fred inquired. âWhat could Mum have possibly said this time?â
âWasnât her, actually,â Ginny confessed, realizing that this may very well be the first time in ages that somebody else had angered her. âHermione.â
âPoint taken,â Fred confirmed with a sly grin. âAlways stubborn, that one. Just like Ronniekins. Good luck with that, Gin.â
âYeah. Give them another six or seven years to cool off then try again,â George joked.
Ginny smiled in spite of herself. Although the things that Fred and George were saying should have only made the situation worse, their knack of taking things light-heartedly was comforting in a miniscule way.
âGot the owl this morning,â George chimed with a grin. Ginny was admittedly grateful for the change in subject. âCongratulations. Always saw it coming.â
âDid not! It was always me,â Fred insisted. âYou always called me ridiculous when I suggested it! Remember? You thought heâd shack up with that Ravenclaw seeker.â
Ginny frowned at this comment.
âDear Brother, itâs quite sad when even you get us confused. Yes, two Butterbeers,â George added as Madam Rosmerta asked them for their orders. She handed Ginny's to her, which she took willingly. A few sips and the warmth was restored to her body, having been rare in the chilly spring weather outside.
âSo, what are you two doing in the middle of Hogsmeade?â Ginny questioned, sipping away and sorting her purchases properly.
âWe could ask you the same thing.â
âThatâs easyâŚWe already discussed it: I was visiting Hermione at the castle. But sheâs being near impossible to talk to.â Ginny sighed. âSo, itâs your turn.â
âWe were at Zonkoâs,â Fred responded, raising a large bag. âPercyâs visiting our new house this weekend. Ministry business. Feels obligated to talk to my wife Angelina about her enchanted lawnmower.â
âAnd if he goes into Percival overdriveâŚwe have some surefire ways to knock him down a couple pegs,â George added. Fred chuckled in agreement.
âStill canât behave like grown adults,â Ginny retorted, but nevertheless allowed herself to smile. Fred and George always managed to cheer her up. She finished up her Butterbeer and glanced at her watch, realizing how late it really was. âOh no, Iâve got to get going.â She stood, gathering her bags. âIt was nice seeing you two.â
George and Fred helped her to get her bags together. âWhat can we say? We know that we are, after all, your favorite brothers,â George teased.
âWeâll be seeing you soon, Gin,â Fred concluded.
And with that, Ginny hurried out of Hogsmeade to a location for Apparition.
-
Harry glanced at his watch, drumming his fingers on the tabletop impatiently. Ginny was due back at any moment to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron, but so far, was running significantly late.
âI suppose itâs good that Iâm taking a holiday,â Ron was saying as he sipped his soup. âI think some time back at The Burrow will get a load off my mind. Tons of work stress, you know.â
âYeah,â Harry muttered distractedly. Finally, he saw a flash of red hair outside the door, and Ginny hurried in, looking slightly winded, carrying an armful of bags.
âOi, whatâs this? Bought out these stores?â Harry questioned, helping to take a load off her. Ron pitched in. Once the bags were cleared from in front of her face, she spotted her brother. He grinned.
âHey, Gin. Howâs it going?â
In surprise, she dropped her remaining bags and boxes and engulfed him in a hug, temporarily forgetting her sore attitude towards him and Hermione. It had, after all, been ages since she had seen him.
âHeard the good news,â Ron murmured into her identically-red locks. He pulled back to look at her. âWonderful, really.â
âYes,â Harry piped in, sending Ginny a warning look that she didnât quite comprehend. She glanced at Ron. He nodded.
âYeah, Harry says that Hermione already owled you both, that she canât make it to the wedding. Pity.â This last word came out dripping with sarcasm.
Ginny nearly stopped breathing from shock. âHe what? Hermione what?â She glared at Harry. âAre you barking mad?â
âRon, please excuse us.â Ron nodded, looking thoroughly confused, but returning to the business of his soup. Harry quickly pulled his future wife over to the side.
âWhat is the meaning of this, Harry Potter?â Ginny demanded. âHermione never actually declined! I wasnât through convincing her. If I can help it, Iâm not going to allow her to miss it.â
âI know, I know,â Harry said gently, trying to calm her down. âLet me explain.â
Ginny crossed her arms expectantly. âAll right...Ten seconds...Go.â
âI told Ron that Hermione wasnât coming. I figured that if we tell them both that the other isnât coming, they'll meet each other at The Burrow for pre-arrangements, become neutral enough to go to the wedding rehearsal, and then be forced to go to the dinner with us afterwards, and forced to talk.â Harry took a deep breath; he had said all of this very fast.
Ginny frowned. âHarry Potter, how do you expect to pull that off? There isnât nearly enough time to arrange that before the wedding. And personally, Iâm not keen on dedicating these future should-be-pleasant weeks to being an arbitrator.â
Harry placed his hands on her shoulders and craned his head down to look straight into her eyes, pleading through them. âListen, though, Love. Itâs bound to work. I know them both quite well and I know how their minds work. Ron has already consented to stay for the few weeks, and Hermione should be a piece of cake if we handle it in a similar fashion.â
âAnd after they discover the other is present?â Ginny asked with a cold skepticism.
âWellâŚTheyâllâŚGet over it,â Harry offered pathetically.
âI donât understand,â Ginny sputtered, impatience written all over her face.
âIf theyâre staying in the same placeâŚTheyâve got to be forced to talkâŚCâmon, Gin, think about it.â
Ginny ran this all through her head, turning it over and over. On the one handâŚthey were furious with one another. But on the other handâŚHarry had a point. It seemed downright logical. Ron and Hermione were both great at quarreling, but when forced to be in the same place, always seemed to reconcile. Finally, the options were weighed in Harryâs favor. She studied his face very carefully and took a deep breath before speaking.
âFine. I have to admit, it makes a damn bit of sense. But if you mess this up, Harry PotterâŚIf you ruin our wedding with this little schemeâŚâ She trailed off, shaking her finger in his face.
He grinned and pulled her closer to him, hands on her waist. âNothing will be ruined, Love. I can promise you that. If I was able to keep myself alive for this long, Iâm sure I can mediate an argument.â
âI love you sometimes,â Ginny conceded with a sigh, her face softening considerably.
Harry smiled in return. âAnd thatâs all I ask for.â
TO BE CONTINUED...
Heart-To-Hearts by bluerosemarcella
Author's Notes:
Again, this was started in 2002. Trying to revise before posting.
Chapter Three: Heart-To-Hearts
Hermione was, needless to say, shaken up by the progression of events only a few hours prior. Even her young students noticed a change: during a third-year lecture, she attempted to transfigure a porcupine into a pincushion, only to watch in horror as it scurried around her desk, incomplete.
She was terribly distracted by thoughts of Ron and reliving her past. In some ways, she granted Ginny the privilege of being rightâ”She had cared deeply for Ron during her Hogwarts years. It was certainly her naivety, however, that led her to believe that he would ever change enough to take care of her. Years later, she was far more mature, and possessed an acute awareness of just how childish he had always been. Any feelings that she had once had were now obsolete. In fact, she was still incredibly sore towards him, and wouldnât mind at all if he disappeared off the face of the earth. Her loathing for him was strong and powerful, and clouded her right mind.
And, being notoriously proud and stubborn, she had a struggle admitting to herself that she and Ron had once been best friends. She insisted on reflecting on all the flaws of their friendship, rather than remembering all of the endearing moments. Times that he defended her to Snape, costing him detentions and points from Gryffindor; and from Malfoy, risking his dignity.
Now really, any boy who would be willing to spew slugs for hours on end for a friend would appear sincerely appealing.
But nothing was so worth admitting to Hermione. She was stuck in her ways that Ron was a heartless, brainless, selfish git and thatâs all there was to it. Perhaps that had not always been the case, but she didnât dare think about it or the times that they shared. That caused only grief. And in Hermioneâs eyes, she had to think of things the logical way. This was as logical a solution as she could muster: ignoring the situation and past entirely.
âProfessor Granger,â piped up a Gryffindor second year named Sally. âSomebodyâs at the door for you.â
Shaken out of her state, Hermione turned towards the entrance. Sure enough, there was another soft knock. âOne moment,â she called. As she struggled whole-heartedly to hold her pincushion stationary, she heard the sound of dinner bell. The final class of the day was finished. She dismissed the second years, watching in silent gratitude as they hustled and bustled anxiously to the Great Hall.
Once the last student had left, Hermione called to her guest to come in. Her pincushion scuttled off the desk and she dove after it, narrowly avoiding a painful crash with the chair. She reached her hand underneath her work station, only succeeding in frightening it into running for the nearest exit.
âHonestly!â she sputtered, lungingâ”This resulted in a head-on collision with a nearby cabinet. She let loose a very rare curse, finally remembering she had her wand on the desk. Fetching it, she murmured, âAccio pincushion!â It sailed into her hands, fidgeting mercilessly. Shoving it back into its cage under the desk, Hermione silently thanked Merlin that nobody had witnessed that scene. Righting herself, she found this thanks to be in vain. Standing before her was Remus Lupin, looking on with amusement.
âPesky pincushions giving you grief again, Hermione?â
âMerely a poorly-transfigured assignment by a third-year,â Hermione lied, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. âTried to catch it before it got out of my sight and popped up in somebodyâs pumpkin juice.â
âHow considerate of you,â Remus said generously, pretending as though he had no idea she was the culprit for the misshapen rodent. She nodded uncomfortably, as if to show that she was exceedingly grateful that she was finished with explanations, and began to gather the cages of disfigured porcupines, beginning to transfigure them back into their original state.
Remus took it upon himself to help her, starting with cages at the back of the classroom, sometimes reciting spells that would replace lost eyes or feet. Once they had finished, in complete silence, Hermione tried to busy herself with double and triple checking to be sure all the animals were in their appropriate state. Remus could easily tell that she was avoiding conversation, almost as if she was aware of what heâd come to talk about. So instead, he took the liberty of speaking without her consent.
âHave you heard the news of the engagement?â he asked nonchalantly, helping her to check the porcupines and confirm that they were in proper order. She paused, but nevertheless, nodded in confirmation.
âBriefly,â she stated simply, murmuring âWingardium leviosaâ at the animals and levitating them through the door. Remus followed, finding this conversation to be more difficult than heâd originally anticipated.
âDid you not talk to Ginny Weasley? I bumped into her earlier, she said she was looking for you,â he continued as he trailed Hermione and the cages down the corridor, wondering to himself what on earth she was doing and where she was going.
âBriefly,â Hermione repeated. Remus cleared his throat, taking a new, less subtle approach.
âAre you attending?â he questioned. This instigated a pause from the younger professor as they passed the Fat Lady visiting a friend in a portrait.
âHow are you, my dear?â she asked Remus.
He bowed his head slightly in good manners and offered a polite grin. âIâm marvelous, thank you for asking.â The Fat Lady blushed slightly and giggled.
âYou always were one of my favorites, dear.â
Remus was not given an opportunity to reply.
âExcuse me, what are you doing away from the Great Hall?â Hermione demanded in the direction of three fourth-year Gryffindor students who looked particularly guilty. As Hermione stopped to question the children, the cages continued to hover around her, bumping into one another and causing a series of porcupine squeaks.
âWell, Professor,â began one boy hastily.
âWe wanted to finish up some homework,â finished the second.
âYes, we were just headed to study,â added the young girl, wringing her hands together nervously.
âHomework? During supper? On a Friday?â Hermione pressed, raising an incredulous eyebrow.
Remus didn't bother to keep his smile to himself as he watched the three children fidget uncomfortably at her inquiry. âWell, carry on then,â he said to them with a wink, gesturing to them to hurry away before Hermione registered that heâd let them off the hook. Sure enough, once she had, they were safely around the corner in the direction of Gryffindor Towerâ”She turned to Remus, sputtering lightly.
âProfessor Lupinâ”Out of turnâ”You had absolutely no rightâ”â she stammered.
âOh, come now,â he answered calmly. âYou canât fault them. They actually remind me of three Gryffindors I once knew, not long ago...One of whom Iâm speaking to at this very moment.â
Hermione blushed once again.
âI havenât a clue as to what youâre talking about, Professor Lupin,â she insisted.
âHermione, this has gone far enough. Donât you think youâre being a bit ridiculous about this whole Ron situation? Honestly, youâve known each other for ten years, and been best friends for as long.â
âThatâs not the point at all,â she snapped.
âYou canât erase the past,â Remus reasoned. âBelieve me, Iâve tried.â Hermione turned to look at him, searching his face and probing his eyes, attempting to jump into his thoughts. His face seemed distinctly pale and the corridor cast familiar shadows across his cheekbones.
âHas Snape given you a Wolfsbane potion yet this month?â Hermione said in a hushed tone, continuing to walk towards the exit, the cages following suit.
âHeâs due to give one to me this evening. Donât venture off-topic,â Remus stated adamantly. Soon enough, they were on the grounds, and heading towards the edge of the forest. They passed Hagrid, who was heading to dinner himself, and said their hellos, keeping their pace.
Finally, Hermione bent low at the base of the trees, allowing the cages to land, and began to release the porcupines into the wild. Remus kneeled next to her and helped to open cages with a flick of his wand.
âSo what makes you afraid to confront Ron?â Remus asked once again, hoping for some sort of straight-forward answer. He looked at Hermione sympathetically, hoping that it was enough to allow her to open up. Finally, she sighed.
âIâm not sure. I think Iâm afraid of this quarrel growing more vicious, is all. I know that it would. And Iâm not ready to have it out yet.â
âNot ready to lose an argument, you mean?â Lupin interjected. Hermione looked at him, her mouth open slightly in indignation. Fearing for a moment that he had crossed this delicate line, he half-expected her to condone him for suggesting that squabbling was her main concern. Instead, she sputtered, âI most certainly would not lose!â and began to blush significantly in her outburst, turning her face away and continuing to open cases.
âItâs all right to lose an argument now and then, Hermione. Even more so all right to avoid arguing altogether. Sometimes one has to risk their pride to keep the peace. But the outcome is often worth the sacrifice.â
Hermione gazed at Remus and then found the scampering porcupines suddenly quite interesting as she averted her eyes. For once, she was struck speechless.
-
The reunion back at The Burrow was a long and lovable one. Mrs. Weasley had squealed happily upon seeing Ron walk into the house and had thrown herself at him, covering him in hugs and kisses and attempting to wipe smudges from his face, like any proper mother would.
Harry and Ginny had already gathered their things in the idea of staying at the house until after the wedding, which was only two months away. A fast and hasty wedding was nothing when Mrs. Weasley was on the committee, working like a House Elf to arrange it all before Ginnyâs very spellbound eyes. However, Ginny didnât do much complaining. She needed all the help she could possibly get. Planning a wedding wasnât an easy task.
Harry and the family, minus Mr. Weasley who was at work, sat down to dinner that night, which consisted of a delectable beef stew, warm and crispy croissants, and chilled pumpkin juice. It was a delightful evening, despite the fact that every time Molly asked Ginny to pass the butter or a napkin, she burst into tears of joy at the sight of the band around Ginnyâs finger that symbolized her betrothal. In addition to this, sheâd blubber something about her youngest baby being all grown up, leaving Ron to comfort his mother awkwardly, passing her a tissue now and then that she noisily blew her nose into. Harry and Ginny would then exchange meaningful glances and secretly clasp hands beneath the table.
Harry often found it hard to not refer to Molly and Arthur as his parents, or the family in whole as being his own. They were the most loving people heâd ever met, and felt privileged to be considered a part of them. He couldnât help but beam at the fact that soon it would be official, and he would have brothers and parents-in-law.
Looking across the table at Ron, who was gazing into his reflection in the butter dish to flatten his hair and wipe the dirt from his face, Harry grinned. This concerned friend of his would soon be related to him. Although, Harry thought, Wizarding law neednât legalize anything in this case: Ron had always been like a brother to Harry, and this marriage would merely finalize it.
As a follow-up to the marvelous dinner, the family settled in the living room, going over wedding plans and searching Mrs. Weasleyâs books for information. As she was deeply involved in So Youâre Going To Be The Witching Wife Of A Wizard, she merrily began jotting down ideas of all sorts and seemed readily disappointed when Ginny insisted that she didnât agree with her motherâs suggestion of having her wedding dress pink (according to the book, this symbolized eternity.) Ron went on to joke that she might as well go stark naked to avoid the nonsense, causing Mrs. Weasley to gasp, Ginny to blush scarlet, and Harry to busy himself with wiping his glasses clean pretending as though he didnât hear.
While they were making a guest list, Mr. Weasley turned up and joined in the committee, thinking of all his brothers and sisters and great uncles and aunts and distant cousins (some twice removed,) resulting in Ginny calculating nearly a thousand and nine guests and concluding that was far too great a number.
As Molly was fighting to find any expendable members, she read past Hermioneâs name. Ginny hastily, stuttering from the look of disgust on Ronâs face, insisted that Hermione would be unable to make it, and vowed to herself silently to fill her mother in later.
After Mrs. Weasleyâs speech of disappointment, Ginny sent Harry a relieved look, to which he nodded in understanding.
After an evening of reuniting and celebrating, the group tired and decided to retire to their corresponding rooms. Ron said, however, he had some paperwork to finish up while the light of the fire was still burning, and said heâd be to bed later. The Weasley parents retreated to their bedroom, while Harry and Ginny remained in the hallway, saying their goodnights.
Ginny raised on her tiptoes to kiss her future husband, and they parted with euphoric smiles on their faces. âIâm going to try to talk some sense into Ron,â she decided, glancing into the living room and watching the firelight play across his face, which was contorted with concentration. Harry nodded and wished her luck, giving her one last kiss, and walking into Ronâs bedroom. Mrs. Weasley had conjured up another mattress for him to relax upon. Once he had climbed into bed, sleep hit him almost instantaneously, giving him no time for idle pre-sleep thoughts.
Ginny retraced her steps back into the room where Ron slaved over work, seemingly distracted. She sighed and approached him, taking a seat on the couch to his right. He glanced at her once her presence occurred to him, and gave a feeble smile. âHey, Gin. Did you need something?â
âYouâre on holiday,â Ginny insisted, stepping over to her brother and delicately beginning to lift the parchment away from him. He got hold of it from her easily, looking smug until she muttered, âAccio parchment,â and it went sailing into her hands. She tucked them safely in her robes. âHonestly, Ron,â she began. âIâve never seen you so concerned with work before.â
âWell, this is important to finish if Iâm to be away for so long,â he argued, looking rather unsure of himself. Ginny knew better. Heâd taken a leaf out of Hermioneâs book after being friends with her for so long, adopting the habit of working like mad to distract oneself from meddlesome thoughts.
âRon, I think you should shape things up with Hermione,â she stated bluntly, causing him to look at her as though sheâd grown an extra set of eyes. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she insisted, âItâs gone on long enough. Everybodyâs bloody sick of it. Just admit you love her, for Merlinâs sake.â
This, if anything, inspired the reaction she least expected. Ron stood up straight, looking deeply affronted, and cried, âLove her? Are you off your rocker, Gin? Even I think I deserve nicer!â
âThatâs an awful thing to say!â she cried. âDo you think youâre better than her?â
âNo! I mean, yes! Iâd just as soon date her as Iâd dateâ”As Iâd dateâ”Snape!â Ginny curled her lip in horror at this statement, and his cheeks flushed as he tried to compensate. âAndâ”You know how much I hate Snape! So I hate Hermione just as much!â
âBloody ridiculous,â Ginny cursed. In defeat, she sighed, and stood. âNot going to stand for her coming to this wedding, are you?â
âAbsolutely not!â he spat, as if he had a bug in his mouth throughout the entire conversation that he had finally gotten rid of. He held his hand out. âNow give me my work back.â Ginny looked him in the eye, and after a staring contest that lasted for nearly a minute, she forfeited and handed him his parchment, stomping back to her room in a fit of uncontrollable rage.
-
Hermione settled at the staff table in the Great Hall, between McGonagall and Hagrid, who was downing his pumpkin juice and telling a joke to Poppy Pomfrey about a goblin and a troll who walked into a bar. Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little bit at Hagridâs antics. She reached across her plate to take her own goblet, noticing that each time she strived to get hold of it, it would hover out of her reach. Puzzled by this, she glanced down the table at Remus, who looked back innocently, grinning. She rolled her eyes and found that her goblet had righted itself. She took it and proceeded to sip at her juice.
Ridiculous, really. Lupin was doing all in his power to convince Hermione of his point of view. Since Hermione had begun teaching at Hogwarts, she and Lupin and become wonderful friends. And his advice was precious to her and greatly appreciated. And his kind thoughts regarding her and Ronâs situation seemed to be more logical than Ginny's had. His words did make a bit of sense. She never would admit this to him, of course. She knew that he wouldnât gloat, but it was a matter of pride and nursed grudges. He was almost like a big brother figure, in a way. The way that Harry and most of the Weasley boys were. She admired him greatly.
So she found herself becoming half-consciously immersed in a conversation with Hagrid about his Care Of Magical Creatures assignment. It was an animal named the snidget that Hermione recalled reading about in Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them. Hagrid went on to describe how the rare species had once been used to substitute for the Golden Snitch in games of Quidditch.
âTheyâre quite rare, Iâve read, Hagrid. How did you manage to get any?â Hermione inquired curiously.
âAh, I know a feller who works in one âo the sanctuaries. Nice bloke by the name âo Bassalbee. Lent âem ter me fer the week. Fourteen knuts charge. Generous lot.â
Soon enough, the four house tables retreated from the hall, leaving the staff to go to their own quarters or mingle about as desired. Hermione opted to return to her dormitory, where she could catch up on much-needed rest and search her thoughts regarding her anger with Ron.
Coming into her classroom, however, she found an owl hovering outside the window with a letter for her. Recognizing this owl as Errol (and marveling that he was still alive,) she rushed over and allowed him in. He dropped the letter onto the desk and collapsed. Sighing, she left him there to recuperate, and opened the parchment. She recognized the writing straight-away.
Hermione,
I understand that you donât want Ron at the wedding. I respect that. He owled us and told us itâd be near impossible for him to make it, anyway. Unfortunate luck.
Iâve talked to Mum and Dad and we decided as a family to have everyone come back home until after the wedding. I understand it may be hard to get away when youâre teaching classes, but perhaps someone could fill in? They've got people to do that, havenât they? Even Sirius could cover for you. Harry says heâs a master at Transfiguration.
I can see that appalled look on your face right now. Get rid of it, because youâre in desperate need of a break and you know The Burrow is just the place to spend it. If you donât turn up, weâll be out there to gather you anyway. Dumbledoreâs already consented. Weâll be awaiting your letter back letting us know when youâll be arriving.
Love,
Ginny
Hermione perused the letter a few more times until she nearly had it memorized. Ginny made sense in retrospect of Hermioneâs rare breaks. She supposed she did sort of need one. In any other case, she would have owled Ginny back and insisted that things were much too busy around the castle for her to take leave. However, if Dumbledore had consented for them to take her anyway if she resisted...Going the easy way might as well be the better choice.
Sighing in defeat, she owled back the Weasleys with a short but simple message: When would you like me to be there?
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