“Mum, Hermione and I are going for a walk. We want to spend some time together before I, well, before I leave.” Ron watched his mother warily, wiping his sweaty palms nervously in the pockets of his jacket.
“It’s all right, Ron,” Molly Weasley muttered, pausing to blow her nose on a handkerchief crumpled in her work-worn hand. Continuing, she gestured futilely to the somber-faced Weasley clan surrounding her. “We all understand. You two go on. Have fun.” Mrs. Weasley sadly gave her permission to the young pair standing before her, though her sorrowful eyes betrayed her true feelings; she’d never really given any thought to her youngest son’s future departure, yet, here it was. With a gloomy sniff, Mrs. Weasley grabbed a handful of her faded kitchen apron with the hand clutching the hankie, and wiped her eyes before quickly turning to grab her husband’s hand.
Ron smiled weakly at his mother’s thoughtfulness, but almost laughed out loud at the inaccuracy of her statement.
Have fun? Was she serious? The only “fun” that he and Hermione would have would be the long hours he’d spend convincing her that everything was going to be all right, and that he would be home soon. He knew what it was like to reassure Hermione about anything: At school, she’d been terrified of failure after every exam. When he had dated Lavender Brown briefly in their sixth year, Hermione had doubted her own beauty”and she was beautiful. Because of all this, Ron not only knew that Hermione was a highly emotional person, but also that she would most likely cry, though her Gryffindor bravery and renowned stubbornness would try to prevent that.
As he stood there, uncomfortably shifting from right to left foot while Hermione clenched his hand, Ron recalled his first year at Hogwarts, and the first time he’d seen Hermione show emotion”before they became friends. It was in Charms class, and she’d just shown him up in a spell; frankly, it was embarrassing, and Ron had made fun of her afterward, mimicking her know-it-all voice as he walked from class with Harry. To his dismay, however, she’d heard him, and rushed off to the bathroom to cry. It was only later, after her life had been threatened by a rampant troll, that she’d forgiven him, and they’d become friends.
It was true, though, Hermione didn’t often show her emotions to her formal acquaintances; her stalwart behavior and superior intellect were legendary, yet, Ron had seen his friend (and now his girlfriend) weep on several different occasions.
Yes, contrary to the belief of many, Hermione was able to cry, and though Ron would be gone for a period of only six months, the very real possibility of danger still existed, and he knew she was frightened. These were dark times: Death Eaters were frequently seen in the wizard and Muggle worlds, and there had been more deaths lately, many of them Aurors. There was quite a demand in the Wizarding community for protection, and Ron was going to fulfill his duty while pursuing his dream.
Ever since his sixth year at Hogwarts, Ron Weasley had wanted to become an Auror. In fact, he’d wanted to become an Auror his entire life. Well, after he decided that becoming a member of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Team was out of the picture, of course.
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement housed some of the highest-paying jobs in the Wizarding community, and becoming an Auror was the pinnacle of adventure and wealth combined. Also, Ron mused wryly, as he fingered a patch on the inside of his bomber jacket, because money was something that he hadn’t had a lot of in his youth, it would be nice to have a few extra Galleons to spend.
But money wasn’t the only reason he wanted this occupation so badly. Ron desperately wanted the respect, dignity, and skills that came along with the Auror profession. As a “middle child,” Ron had never received the attention that his brothers and even his sister had. All of his siblings had accomplished so much: The twins had the joke shop; Charlie was an adventurer, dealing with the most fearsome creatures in the wizarding world”dragons; Bill worked for Gringotts and he was engaged; Ginny was just talented; and, though Percy was a git according to Ron, he was making a name for himself in the Ministry. Ron simply felt he needed to make his way in the world. He knew instinctively that he had the will to persevere until he reached his goal; until he accomplished his dream.
After years of hard work (and days spent “referencing” an irate Hermione’s notes,) Ron had finally got the opportunity to become what he had always wanted to be. He knew that his time would come eventually; one couldn’t be a sidekick forever, though Ron would always be Harry’s best mate. With the help of Hermione, and the companionship of Harry, Ron had been amongst the topmost students in his year at Hogwarts at the end of his seventh year.
Of course, it wasn’t all achieved just like that. Ron hadn’t made the best grades on his Potions final for Snape’s class during sixth year, but Hermione had helped him slide past that class. With her notes, he and Harry had managed to cram in some studying before the major exam, both finishing with an Outstanding on their N.E.W.T.S.
He had known”and hoped”that the chance to become an Auror would come someday, yet, as he looked back on the past few years, he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. It was only his second year out of Hogwarts, but suddenly it was also August thirty-first, his last day in England before departing the country to attend Auror training school.
After he received his acceptance letter, Ron felt as if he was unfettered to anything but the clouds. This was his dream, and he’d soon be a full-fledged Auror; but there was one hitch to this plan: Hermione Granger.
He loved her so much that, sometimes, it hurtto even look at her. He had never felt this way about another girl … woman, and he knew that he would never feel the same love for anyone else. What he felt for Hermione was true adoration, unblemished affection, and pure love, and he knew that she felt the same way about him.
However, though his feelings for his former classmate ran deep, his dedication to his dream was unfailing. After he’d applied to the Ministry of Magic and passed their stringent background check, he was informed that his training would take place in Italy, and also that he was not allowed to stay in contact with any of his family or friends while there. There was no reason given, and Ron still hadn’t worked out why communication was unacceptable, but he figured that it had something to do with the rebel Death Eaters intercepting letters. Therefore, there was no letter writing, no Floo visiting, no parcels or packages in the mail on weekends for six months.
It was with a heavy heart, then, that Ron had visited the Burrow and prepared to bid his assembled family farewell.
Now, after a quiet evening and scrumptious meal prepared nervously by Mrs. Weasley’s shaking hands, Ron unenthusiastically and solemnly bid everyone good evening, then, holding Hermione’s smooth hand, walked out into the chill of a late summer’s night.
It was quite cold for the end of August, but Hermione and Ron snuggled against each other, sharing the warmth of their bodies, as they took a leisurely stroll down the bumpy lane leading from the Burrow to the quaint town of Ottery St. Catchpole.
“That’s where you first told me you loved me,” Hermione murmured, her voice ill-concealing her worry as she pointed to a rickety, decomposing bench lying chipped and weary underneath a drooping willow tree.
Ron wished that she wouldn’t talk about their shared memories; her quiet comments just made him dread leaving her even more. As Hermione gave a particularly loud sniffle, Ron sighed and stopped, spinning Hermione’s slight form to face him.
Her face was drawn, but she opened her mouth and said, “I’m fine; it’s just cold out here.”
But Ron knew she was more concerned about his upcoming journey than she cared to admit. Tentatively, he reached out and tilted Hermione’s chin up; Ron stared into her chocolate-brown eyes for a moment before pulling her closer, wrapping her inside his bomber jacket.
~ * ~
Throughout the evening, Hermione had determined to remain in control of her emotions, but thinking about Ron’s departure made things difficult. Dinner was strained, and Hermione found that she wasn’t able to eat much. She wanted so desperately to speak with Ron, and when he’d asked her to take a walk with him later, she jumped at the chance.
Now, as they stood under the sheltering tree, Hermione wondered vaguely whether Ron would remember this night. He was often so forgetful; at this notion, Hermione smiled and relaxed against Ron, nestling into his chest, taking in his distinctive scent. He smelled like a mixture of aftershave, Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, and, much to Hermione’s satisfaction and delight, her own perfume.
“I love you, Ron,” she told him softly, her voice breaking the slightest bit as she uttered his name. “I wish that…” As a lump rose in her throat, Hermione trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. She couldn’t lose her self-control in front of him; he was the one leaving, after all, and Hermione knew that it was hard enough for him to leave all that he’d ever known and loved. And yet, she had to tell him how she felt. Otherwise, who knew? She might never have the chance to do so again. “I wish that you weren’t leaving -- that you didn’t have to go.” A single, silvery tear slid suddenly down her pale cheek.
~ * ~
Ron, who had been staring at the bright stars through the waving arms of the willow as Hermione leaned against his chest, gazed down at her as she began to speak. When suddenly she began to cry, he quickly wiped the telltale drop away, then Summoned a blanket for them to sit on in a clearing under the same willow tree where their love had first been declared. With a grunt, Ron flopped to the ground, pulling Hermione down beside him. He smiled as she let out a reluctant laugh, then he reached down to pull the blanket over both of their legs.
Still chuckling, Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron’s waist and leaned back to lay her head on him. “This is where we first kissed,” she said lovingly, planting a soft kiss on Ron’s chest.
Ron simply smiled down at her, though she could not see the twinkle of humour and unconditional love shining from his bright blue eyes.
The embracing couple sat in silence for a long time, neither saying anything, but both thinking a great deal, mostly about the other. The night air was soundless, but for the song of chirping crickets and Hermione’s teeth chattering from the cold.
With a start, Ron sat up; moving a grumbling Hermione off his chest. He removed his jacket and draped it around her thin shoulders, then slid his arm behind her, his sleeve snagging slightly on the bark of the willow tree. Sighing, he pulled her into a tight embrace, as she began to speak.
“I don’t want this night to end, Ron,” Hermione murmured, burying her face in his shirt. “What’ll happen after this?”
“I don’t want to ever lose you, Hermione,” Ron replied, his tone serious and purposeful. “You know that, right?” he asked the concerned woman, reaching down to stroke her hair comfortingly.
Ron watched closely as Hermione closed her eyes, then sat up, her hair wild in the light of the moon. She swallowed several times and simply sat, looking at her lover for a moment before nodding.
“Good,” he said, trying to sound satisfied and confident though he didn’t feel self-assured in the least. As Hermione lay down again on the Conjured blanket and placed her head in his lap, Ron swallowed too, knowing instinctively that his voice might soon break if he continued speaking. He was worried, too, but grown men don’t cry, especially in front of women, particularly their girlfriends.
Rubbish, men do cry, Ron thought, but he wasn’t going to do so in front of Hermione, especially after he had just convinced her that he wasn’t worried, and that the danger wasn’t as real as she feared.
Silence again.
Both of them had a great deal to say to one another, yet neither had the words to express themselves eloquently. Ron, however, felt the silence was weighing too heavily in the air; he wanted Hermione to be sure of his affection and regard for her. With a sigh, Ron ran his hands gently through Hermione’s tangled hair.
“I love you, Hermione. I always will.”
Hermione said nothing, and Ron sat very still, hoping he hadn’t said the wrong thing. As the silence dragged on, a hot blush began to creep slowly up the back of his neck. Wrinkling his brow, Ron opened his mouth to apologize for his hasty declaration, but Hermione beat him to the punch.
Rolling onto her back, her head still in his lap, she smiled up at him. “Ron, I love you, too. And when you get back in six months, I’m going to be here for you. I’ll wait for you. I’m still going to love you; I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“That’s good to hear,” Ron murmured, though his heart beat loudly, reverberating in his chest, until he felt positively breathless. “I want the same thing,” Ron told her before leaning down for a kiss.
Through his absolute haze of happiness, Ron felt her Hermione reach up to link her arms around his neck; she kissed him back passionately. With a sigh of contentment, Ron slipped down the trunk of the tree and wrapped his arms around Hermione, deepening their kiss as the stars sparkled overhead.
The two were in love, and that was all there was to it.
The Night Before (Life Goes On) by Ron x Hermione
Chapter Notes: I would like to thank my amazing beta, Celestial Melody. Julia has helped me through the hardships, and everything in this fic. She has encouraged me not to give up, even on the countless rejections that we have received. Thanks so much, Julia!
NOTE: I do not own Ron and Hermione, although I wish I did.