Epilogue
Hermione sidled into the room, feeling inexplicable nervous. She glanced quickly around the crowded bar, and her eyes came to rest on a tall red-headed man, sitting at a table in the far corner. As he bent his head to drink from his glass, his floppy red hair fell forward into his blue eyes and Hermione felt her hand flinch slightly by her side as it contemplated pushing his hair out of his eyes, as she often did.
She glanced down and her outfit, and smoothed down her t-shirt. You’re being ridiculous, she told herself briskly, it’s only Ron, for Merlin’s sake. She eyed her hair cautiously in the mirror above the bar. It’s not as if it was a date...she ran a hand through her curly locks absent mindedly. He asked you here because your friends, Harry would be here too, if he wasn’t so busy.
Yes, Hermione thought firmly, that was certainly true. Harry had so much to do in the aftermath of the war. She and Ron helped too, of course, but Harry insisted Ron rested as much as he could, and Hermione wanted to stay with him, in case he did anything stupid. Her eyes roved over Ron’s scarred face as she walked slowly over to him. His hair had grown back and covered the worst of the burns, but there would always be the scars. There would always be the memories…
Ron lifted his head as she neared and his eyes met hers. He smiled happily as she perched on the seat opposite him. She surveyed him sternly.
“Ron, what are you doing here?” she asked calmly.
“Drinking,” he answered cheekily, taking another gulp of butterbeer.
“What are you doing here,” she repeated, “when Harry and I left you settled in front of the fireplace only an hour ago? At the Burrow.”
Ron wrinkled his nose. “I got bored. And I feel fine!” he added as she raised her eyebrows.
“But the Healers said you had to rest!” Hermione pressed, but he placed a finger on her lips, and she fell silence. Her stomach fluttered slightly.
“But I wanted some company,” he continued happily, his fingers falling slowly from her face and landing inches away from her own tightly clenched hands. “That’s why I asked you to come.”
She pulled out a shining gold mirror from her pocket and smiled slightly. “They’ve been very useful, haven’t they?” she commented, referring to the three-way mirrors Fred and George had invented and presented to Harry, Ron and Hermione at the beginning of their seventh year at Hogwarts. “But I told you I’d be busy,” she murmured.
He looked at her. “I figured…” his voice trailed off.
She shook her head sadly. “I wanted to help Harry. I hate seeing him work like this. I’m scared…”
“Hermione, when will you stop being scared?” Ron demanded, and suddenly he had grasped both her hands and for one, heart stopping moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. “Listen to me! The war is over. Over. Harry won, and now he’s safe!”
Hermione shook her head again. “But there’s still so much to do. I wish he would leave it to the others. The Order and the Ministry and… I don’t want him to get complacent.”
Ron laughed gently. “Don’t be silly. Harry?”
Hermione smiled weakly.
“You know what I think?” Ron said quietly, sitting up, and she noticed he still had a firm grasp on her shaking hands. “I think you’ve spent so much time worrying, you’ve forgotten how to stop.” He leaned closer as he spoke, and she suppressed the urge to reach out and stoke the scars that ran down his jaw.
He looked at her for a few more moments, and then straightened up. She felt an edge of disappointment as his hands left hers. “But I didn’t come here to talk about Harry,” he said, his voice back to a normal volume.
“I thought you came here because you were bored,” she asked, trying to feign some normalcy in her own voice.
Without blinking, he gazed at her in silence for a second or two more, his blue eyes vivid and unnerving her slightly. “I did,” he said simply.
Neither of them spoke for a moment, then, feeling slightly dazed, Hermione dragged her eyes away from his and shook her head to clear it. “I’ll go get more drinks,” she said, noticing his empty glass.
“No,” he said, casually grabbing her wrist. “I thought we could for a walk.”
“But you’re supposed to-”
“The fresh air would do me good,” he countered, before she could even finish her sentence.
Hermione glanced unsurely at the doorway into Diagon Alley, intensely aware of his hand still locked around her wrist. “I don’t know,” she said nervously, “Diagon Alley is still a bit depressing…”
“We don’t have to go to Diagon Alley,” Ron told her brightly.
Hermione forgot about her worries for a second as she turned back to him, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows sceptically. “You want to go out into the Muggle world?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Why not, I’ve been loads of times before?”
“Yes, but not to just wander around…”
“Oh, come on,” he said impatiently, getting to his feet, and once more gripping her arm to pull her gently behind him.
The sunlight felt bright on Hermione’s pale skin, and her eyes began to water. Everything had felt so much brighter everyday that had passed since the war ended, as more and more Dementors were captured and banished. Hermione had become so accustomed to the mist that she found herself once again, dressed inappropriately for the June weather.
Ron watched as she pulled of her jumper and stuffed it in her bag. Self consciously, she glanced quickly over the bare skin she had revealed, making sure no marks were visible. She folded her arms once more, feeling his eyes on her bare skin.
“So,” he said conversationally, as they strolled along, arms and hands occasionally brushing together, “have you decided yet?”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t see the point in going back. But I would feel better with some NEWTS under my belt.”
“You’re not going to have any problem getting hired without them,” Ron noted, “the Ministry is already on your tail.”
“Yes, but,” started Hermione, “I’m not sure I want to work for the Ministry.”
“If me and Harry can work for the Ministry then you can” Ron told her firmly. He and Harry both had their names down to start Auror training the following September, though really, he thought, what could they teach Harry Potter that he didn’t already know?
Hermione shrugged non-commitedly.
Ron decided to try once more. “You’d be in Ginny’s year!” he said teasingly.
Hermione laughed. “Well, that decides it, I’m definitely not going.”
Ron smiled at her. “Good. I’d miss you.”
Hermione smiled slowly. “I’d miss you too,” she told him, feeling her face turn pink. But Ron didn’t seem to notice; he had cocked his head up and was sniffing at the air.
“Ron, what are you doing?” asked Hermione, perplexed.
“I can smell something good,” he told her.
She giggled. “There’s a hot dog stand over there,” she told him. “Maybe it’s that.”
“Hot dog?” Ron said questioningly but he followed her gaze to a small stand nearby.
Hermione pulled out her purse. “It’s a muggle snack,” she told him, “Just a sausage in a bun, I’ll treat you, look.” She glanced back up at him, and he was frowning.
“Ron?”
He looked round at her. “Hold on,” he said distantly. “I’m trying to think…” His voice faded away as he turned back to the Hot Dog cart. Then, inexplicably, he looked back at Hermione, frowned some more, and then “ Hermione could for the life of her work out what he was doing “ he turned back the way they had come so he had a distant view of the Leaky Cauldron.
“Hot dogs…” he muttered, half to himself.
“Ron?” repeated Hermione, starting to feel quite worried. “Ron, what are you- what?”
For suddenly, a wide grin had broken across Ron’s face.
“It was you!” he exclaimed joyfully. Hermione blinked.
“What was me?” she asked, utterly wrong-footed.
“You, at the Hot Dog stand. Years ago…” he spun back around to face the stand, grinning like an idiot.
“Ron, you are making no sense,” Hermione said slowly, but his ecstasy was contagious, and she began to smile herself.
“It makes perfect sense,” Ron whispered, sounding awed.
Hermione looked round, rolling her eyes. “You want one then?” she asked, smirking.
“Yup,” he said, still sounding enthralled.
He was still muttering to himself when Hermione handed him a steaming hot dog. They began to amble back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione nibbled at her hot dog, giggling slightly as Ron wolfed his down in two mouthfuls.
“Explain yourself, then,” she instructed him playfully. He beamed down at her.
“Ok, when I was, I dunno, six or something, and I was in Diagon Alley with my mum and everyone. Bill and Charlie and everyone were off with friends but I had to stay with mum, and I remember being really annoyed. So I sneaked off, to the Leaky Cauldron, and came through to the muggle world.”
“Ron!” Hermione chided, “That was really dangerous.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah but I was six, weren’t I? That’s not the point. The point is, I met you!”
Hermione blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Well, she looked just like you and spoke just like you, and said her name was Hermione,” he told her. “You told me I had a funny name.”
Hermione snorted. “Well, Ron, it is a bit old fashioned,” she laughed.
“Your mum bought me a hot dog,” Ron remembered. “Because I only had wizard money.”
Hermione paused. “Did “ wait…” She stopped walking.
“What?” Ron asked. “Can you remember?”
Hermione smiled. “Were we talking about the ghoul in your attic?” she asked unsurely.
Ron nodded encouragingly. “And you asked me if I was an orphan!”
Hermione laughed. “Oh my god, I remember! That’s so weird!”
He nodded, and they both burst out laughing.
“You know what else I remember?” Hermione said slowly. “After you’d gone….was I waving at you or something…you must have been standing in the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron…my mum asked who I was waving at…she couldn’t see you anymore!”
Ron shook his head. “This is so strange. Just think, this means I’ve known you for 12 years!”
“Feels like twenty,” Hermione said cheekily, smirking.
* * * * * * * * *
“Ok, who wants seconds?” Mrs Weasley asked, clambering to her feet. In response, Ron pushed his empty plate towards her with an expectant look on his face. Hermione caught Harry’s eyes and they both grinned. Next to Harry, Ginny was sitting scratching her nose. Hermione caught her looking at Harry several times.
“Ginny? More dear?” pressed Mrs Weasley. Ginny started a little. “What? Oh, no thanks, mum.”
Mrs Weasley looked around the rest of the table. Hermione shook her head politely, but Mr Weasley and Harry both thanked her as they passed over their plates. Hermione looked at Ron, who had resumed wolfing down his food. She smiled.
“At least your appetite was never affected,” she said fondly, running a finger down his scars without thinking. He rewarded her with a wordless smile and turned back to his food.
“Yes,” agreed Mrs Weasley, returning to her seat and surveying her son proudly, “although I still think you should rest after dinner, Ron.”
“Mum,” Ron moaned.
“You’ve been out all day!” she argued disapprovingly. “Wandering around muggle London, I don’t know!”
“Hermione made me,” Ron told her, smirking.
“That is not true!” Hermione said, outraged, as Harry and Ron began to laugh. “I tried to make you come back!”
Ron shook his head as he laughed. “Hermione, don’t you know, I need my rest.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, shut up.”
“Yes Ron, be quiet,” Mrs Weasley told him. “And go lie down for an hour or so, ok?”
Scowling, Ron got to his feet. “Sure, I’ll just go and die of boredom, should I?”
The rest of them laughed at him as he went.
Harry challenged Hermione to a game of chess, and she cautiously accepted. She’d never really gotten the hang of that game. Ginny curled up in front of the fireplace, unusually quiet, watching them play, her eyes fixed on Harry. Hermione wanted to catch one of them alone so should could ask what was wrong, but after half an hour, when Harry had beaten Hermione spectacularly and settled closer to Ginny to warm his hands by the fire, she gave up, and got to her feet.
“I might go check on Ron,” she said. Harry nodded at her, distractedly. Hermione left the room and found Mrs Weasley cleaning up the kitchen as Mr Weasley read the Daily Prophet.
“Hermione!” Mrs Weasley said as she saw her, “I made some hot chocolate, could you take it through?” She indicated a tray on which stood three steaming mugs.
“Sure,” Hermione said, picking up the tray.
“And I’ll take this up for Ron,” Mrs Weasley muttered as she poured another mug.
“I was going up to check on him, I’ll take it,” Hermione called over her shoulder. She left the room and pushed the sitting room door open with her toes. She entered, and almost dropped the tray at what she saw. Harry and Ginny were kissing furiously, his arms planted firmly round her waist, her hands curled round his neck. At the noise, they broke apart and spun round, Harry instantly turning a deep shade of red, but Ginny looking quite triumphant.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at her two friends, the shock now subsiding, and a grin spreading across her face.
“Well, well, well,” she said, laughing at Harry’s guilty face. “And just how long have you been sitting on this?”
Ginny was smirking, but Harry looked flushed. “Er…” he said unhelpfully. Hermione raised her eyebrows even further.
“Kinda….since the war ended,” he finished lamely.
Hermione snorted. “So you’ve been back together for three weeks and still not told anyone?”
Even Ginny was beginning to look a little bashful. “It’s more fun this way,” she told her, by way of explanation. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Whatever. Take a mug will you. And I’ll leave you to it.”
Harry crossed the room and took two mugs from her tray, looking at her apologetically as he did. She smiled reassuringly at him, and turned to leave.
“Hermione,” Ginny said suddenly, and Hermione turned back.
“What?” she asked.
“Don’t tell Ron,” Ginny said, a pleading tone in her voice.
Hermione smiled. “If you’re sure,” she began.
“Yes,” said Ginny, instantly.
Hermione nodded and left the room.
When she entered Ron’s bedroom, she found him sprawled across his bed, sleeping. She walked slowly over to him and knelt beside his bed, pulling the covers over him. He stirred slightly.
“Hermione?” he murmured.
“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’ok, I wasn’t really asleep,” Ron lied.
“Yeah, ok,” she humoured him. He widened his eyes innocently. “I wasn’t!” he said defensively, but the sleep in his voice gave him away, and he smiled sheepishly.
“What are you doing?” he asked her, casually placing his hand on top of hers as she rested them on the bed.
She looked over at the mug’s she’d placed on his bedside table.
“Brought you some hot chocolate,” she told him.
“Excellent!” he said, sitting up. She watched regretfully as his hands left hers, then reached for her own cup. She drank deeply from it and hoped he didn’t notice her face turning pink.
She looked back over at him. He grinned at her, chocolate foam all over his top lip. She giggled.
“Ron! What a mess!” she chided him. She reached over, wiped his top lip with her hand, and then wiped her hand on his shirt. He rolled his eyes at her.
“Thanks, Hermione,” he said sarcastically, but she could see he was smirking. He sat up, so that he towered above her, and in turn she got to her feet and perched on the side of his bed.
“You come to entertain me then?” he asked her cheekily, draining his mug and slamming it down on the table.
“You know, Ron, my sole purpose in life isn’t to keep you happy,” she told him, trying and failing to exert any real resentment into her voice.
“Yeah, but it’s one of your main priorities,” he whispered. Her breath caught in her throat; his voice had a purring quality she’d never heard before in it, and though she was only half facing him, she was suddenly aware of how close he was. “Isn’t it?” he pressed. His breath tickled her bare neck, and the tone of his voice suggested he knew perfectly well the kind of effect he was currently having on her. As he spoke, he reached forward to stroke her hair, brushing her curls back and sweeping them over her far shoulder. Here, his new-found confidence seemed to fail him, possibly at the sight of the flesh her summer vest top revealed now that it wasn’t hidden under her curtain of hair, and he sat back slightly.
Hermione’s heart was thudding rapidly, and she hoped fervently that he wouldn’t notice the way her heavy breathing was making her chest heave. Steeling herself, she spoke.
“It’s definitely one of my main priorities.”
Heartened, Ron leant ever-so-slightly forward again, and once again reached out to stroke her curls, this time letting his fingers lightly graze her skin. “It’s because you’re so good at it,” he crooned playfully.
Hermione felt a thrill of excitement. Was Ron flirting with her? A giggle escaped her lips before she could prevent it. “What can I say, I’m an entertaining person.”
Ron snorted.
“It’s because I devote so much time to having fun, rather than studying,” she continued, grinning. “And because I just love breaking the rules.”
Ron raised his eyebrows. “Aha,” he said sceptically, a smirk still playing across his lips.
She looked at him challengingly. “You disagree?” she asked.
He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Not at all,” he said unconvincingly. Then, before she knew it, he was running a single finger down the nape of her neck and her spine, making her shiver deliciously.
“I have every faith in your ability to keep me happy,” he told her. The playful tone had gone from his voice now, replaced by an equally thrilling, low, intense rumble that sent a sensation dancing down her spine.
“I’m honoured,” she breathed, aware that her voice sounded huskier than she would have like. She turned to look at him; her eyes were wide and unblinking, gazing intently at him.
Ron boldly let his fingers rest in the small of her back, loving the feeling of her bare, warm skin against his. He didn’t know where this sudden bout of bravery had come from, he didn’t know why he suddenly felt able to say the words and do the things he’d been dying to for years. He only knew that a tiny bubble of hope was growing in his chest, it has sped up his heart and was constructing his breathing, but these things seemed trivial and unimportant just now. All that mattered was the fact that Hermione was leaning closer, that her face was unthinkably close, that her wide brown eyes were fixed on his, that her lips were parting, meeting his…
And they were kissing, slowly, unsurely, fumbling. Shaking his let his hand slide down her bare back and round to her waist, pulling her in closer as he did so. He sensed her sighing with contentment and kissed her harder, more confidently now. She responded eagerly, and moaned softly as he slipped his hands under her top to feel the smooth skin of her waist underneath. He broke away for a moment, feeling a thrill of excitement at her choppy breathing and flushed cheeks, then slanted his mouth hungrily back over hers.
She placed two hands firmly on his chest and pressed him down onto the bed. Gripping hard, he held her strongly on top of him.
“Hermione,” he breathed, ripping his lips away for only a second to speak and then letting them crash back down. She murmured an intelligible response against his lips.
“You’re going to have to stop,” he whispered playfully. She broke off, her eyes bright, he lips swollen.
“What?” she asked, breathlessly.
“I’m supposed to be resting,” he told her, smirking.
She looked at him.
“Ron?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Well here it is, the epilogue about 2 people were waiting for, lol! Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for all the reviews, they meant a lot to me! Please check out my other fics - To Be This Lost inside Ourselves (A 5 part post-war H/G and R/Hr fic) and A Glint of Gold (H/G post-HBP one-shot)