#romionefanfic

[cheesyficwriter]

Find Me Under the Waterfall (chapter 2)

by cheesyficwriter

A chance encounter during an all-inclusive resort stay brings Ron and Hermione together, and they embark on a blissful week in paradise. Muggle AU.

Words: 4k, Chapters: 2/9, Language: English

Fandom: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling

Rating: M (for mature themes, language and sexual content)

Categories: F/M

Characters/Relationship: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger

AO3

FFN

This multi-chap fic is an extension of a previous drabble of mine, which you can read here

[firethecanonsfanfiction]

Safe In Your Arms

Title: Safe In Your Arms

Pairings/Characters: Ron/Hermione

Summary:  Ron and Hermione find each other immediately after the war.

Prompts: For @chudleycanonficfest

Warnings: Canon mentions of war

Originally published: August 8, 2021 on Fanfiction.net, ao3 and Tumblr

Reposted: N/A

The setting sun over Hogwarts was not its usual beautiful, picturesque image that Hermione had once enjoyed watching. Tonight, it was dark. There was no joy from watching it slowly set. The sky wasn’t an orange, or a purple, or even a dark blue. It was just black. Bleak and black, like how she felt.  

She remembered sitting in this very room and peering out at the rolling hills and mountains and the still lake as the sky drifted between oranges and purples, before  it eventually settled into a deep, starry blue. 

Many nights she’d stayed awake to complete homework, or study, or go over notes to make sure she’d understood what they’d learnt that day. 

Given what had just happened, it almost seemed laughable. What she’d give to go back to the simpler times where her biggest concern had been whether adding an extra sentence to an essay would boost her mark up to one hundred and ten percent. 

She was tired. No, that was an understatement; she was exhausted. Drained of energy, surviving on the smallest amount of sleep, yet her brain ticked overtime as she relived every moment of the past twenty-four hours. This time yesterday they were sneaking into Hogwarts, readying to commence for the last battle. This time yesterday, she had no idea whether she’d even live to see the sunset tonight. 

Many hadn’t, but she had. She might not feel like it right now, but she was living, she was breathing… she was alive. 

And so was Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna… they were all safe and well.

She’d come up to Gryffindor Tower without the notice of the others. They were too busy grieving for their fallen brother. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she didn’t see Ron or Harry until the morning, or perhaps the next morning. 

After it had happened — after Voldemort had died — Harry had just about collapsed. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move. He just sunk against the wall and stared, speaking to no one.

Many times in the hours that followed, Hermione considered going to him. Did he need comfort? Did he need his friends? But she thought Ron was right. He said he thought Harry just needed time. So, time would be what she’d give him. 

She’d spent some of her time helping to fix superficial wounds on students and others, but when she could do no more, she joined the Weasleys. The family huddled together, all with tears rolling down her cheeks. Even Ron, who she’d rarely seen cry before; even he seemed unable to control his emotions.

For a while, she sat with him, holding his hands to offer comfort. But he needed to be with his family, not her. So, she’d come up to the only other place that brought her comfort.

And there she’d stayed, watching as the sun sank lower into the sky until it disappeared all together. Soon, the first full day without Voldemort would be upon them. What were they going to do?

She’d just contemplated the idea of heading up the staircase to return to the bed she’d not slept in for over a year, when the sound of someone climbing through the portrait hole had her turning. 

She knew who it was the minute she saw the tuft of red hair peek through the hole, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was small, but it was a smile. 

“Hey.” 

Ron looked utterly defeated. It was the first time she’d looked at him properly. His tears had dried up, but his face was covered in scratches he’d refused to let her heal. Dirt smeared every inch of skin, and his clothes were torn. 

A real warrior, she couldn’t help but think. He’d been amazing.

“Hey.” The word came out choked and she realised she hadn’t spoken in hours. 

“I wondered where you got to.” Ron seemed to hesitate for a moment before taking the five steps he needed to reach her. 

“I just needed some time to myself,” she answered. “To think.”

It seemed to be enough for Ron, for he nodded. 

Hermione gazed up at him and their eyes locked for longer than what she’d usually be comfortable with. He’d always looked at her in a way that no one else had; as if he truly understood what she was thinking and feeling. He didn’t always have the ability to express that understanding in a dignified way, which had frustrated her for years, but she knew that he got her. Better than most, anyway. 

And maybe she understood him, too, because she knew what was going through his mind as they looked at each other. In the midst of all that had happened, with everything that had unfolded over the past twenty-four hours, she’d kissed him.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, something that she really hadn’t put much thought into, but something she didn’t regret. She’d wanted to do it for longer than she cared to admit to herself, and it had felt like the right time. If one of them were to die that night, at least they’d die knowing how the other felt. 

Finally. 

Staring at him with such intensity made her want to kiss him again. But she refrained, knowing that both of them smelt of blood and death. Nor did either of them probably have the energy to so much as bring their faces close enough to each other to actually do it. 

It was Ron who broke the gaze, turning to the window she’d been looking out before he’d found her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“No.” It was the honest answer, but one he’d understand. 

“Neither.”

Hermione offered her hand to him, and he took it. She smiled, and he returned it, though it was pained. “I’m so sorry about Fred,” she whispered. “I can’t believe —”

“Yeah… yeah.” He squeezed her hand, and then he tugged on it lightly. He indicated the armchairs by the fireplace that she, Ron and Harry had spent much of their time sitting in. She followed him willingly, both of them somehow managing to squeeze onto one.

She was rudely aware of how poorly he smelled, and then felt shameful over the fact that she must have been the same. 

But he didn’t seem to mind, for he placed an arm across her shoulders, drawing her to him. Her head fell against his shoulder and there they stayed. Hermione didn’t know for how long, but she was woken to sunlight and the feel of calloused fingers running through her hair. And she was very, very warm. 

Blinking, she lifted her head slowly. It was still just the two of them. Had anyone else come in? Were they in the dormitories? Or had she and Ron been alone the whole time, asleep and comforted by each other?

It then occurred to her how easily she’d fallen asleep in his arms. She’d laid her head against his shoulder and she’d been out… just like that. How safe she felt. How… loved.

She blushed at the thought, which seemed silly given all that had happened between them. 

“Did you sleep?” she asked quietly, looking at him. 

He nodded. “Yeah. A little.” He was looking at her in that way again. Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Was now even the right time to talk about… them? It seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. They had plenty of time to talk about them. 

But all she could think about was how easy it had been to fall asleep beside him, and how she didn’t want to ever lose that feeling. 

She reached a hand to his cheek, running her fingers gently down it, feeling every bump, every scratch, every bit of dried blood. And her heart swelled with love for him. She loved him so very much, and wasn’t now more important than ever to be with those that you loved… and who loved you?

Ron seemed to be thinking the same, for he lowered his face towards hers. She allowed his dry and chapped lips to brush against hers for a few moments before she kissed him back. His grip on her tightened, his free hand running up the side of her face, entangling into her hair. 

There wasn’t as much desperation this time. No fear that they might die, no thrill of the first kiss. 

It was better. 

When they broke away, slightly breathless, Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed, and so did he. It would take a long time to heal from this, but at least she had one small ounce of happiness to take with her. One that filled a big piece of her heart. 

She settled back against his shoulder and he returned to stroking her hair. Soon, this peacefulness would disappear. Soon, they’d have to return to a reality that was far darker than the one that was on this armchair. But for now, this numbed all the pain. And it was what they both needed.

As she closed her eyes once again, feeling herself drifting into another peaceful sleep entangled in his arms, she heard him murmur against her. 

“Don’t let this be temporary, Hermione. I need you. I love you.”

She was too tired to respond, but when she woke again, she’d tell him that she needed him, too. 

And she’d tell him that she loved him.

[trulymadlydeeplyfest]

💜It’s time for another TrulyMadlyDeeplyFest reveal!

💜“Happy Together” by Herochick007

💜Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

💜Archive warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, R@pe/Non-Con

💜Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44244412

💜Summary: He imagined her and him, knowing they'd be happy together, if only she could see it that way

[headcanonsandmore]

There’s a fanfic where Ron and Harry think hermiones dead but she really was tortured to point of insanity in DH and then Ron tries to help her. There’s also a sequel. Can you help me find them

Things rings a bell. Maybe @callieskye has it on their massive spread-sheet, or maybe @accio-library @accioromione @romionefanfics know it? 

Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, anon. Thanks for the ask, anyway, though!

[padfoot-almofadinhas]

Capítulo 1 - O livro

Enquanto Hermione lia mais um de seus livros de romance, Ron, que a observava, perguntou

-O que você vê de tão especial nesses livros?! Eles só tem um bando de baboseira!

Hermione virou-se respirando fundo e respondeu incrédula - O que eu vejo?! Eles contam lindas histórias, fantasiosas, é claro, porém lindas...- respondeu Hermione suspirando ao final da frase.

Hermione fechou e livro, o deixou na mesa, e foi em direção ao seu quarto. Enquanto Ron balbuciava coisas como "Livros de romance... Até parece que são interessantes! Devem estar cheios daquelas baboseiras românticas... blá-blá-blá" pegou o livro e leu o título 'Romeu e Julieta' e tentou associar o título com alguma coisa "Eu já ouvi esse título em algum lugar... Acho que tem um filme com esse nome... É sobre o cara que quer namorar a menina de outra família?! Acho que sim, eu não me lembro de mais nada... Eu vi esse filme com a Gina, mas dormi no meio... Nossa a Mione já leu esse livro milhares de vezes... Ela deve gostar mesmo disso".

Então Ron decidiu que iria apenas ler o resumo, só pra saber do que se tratava, afinal, já eram mais de onze horas da noite, e apesar de não ter treino amanhã, ele tinha que dormir cedo para resolver alguns assuntos pela manhã.

Ao acabar de ler o resumo, pensou "Eu sabia que esse livro estava cheio de baboseiras! O amor impossível, blá-blá-blá uma birga... Pera aí tem briga nisso também! Deve ser interessante..." Olhou para o relógio e viu que eram onze e quinze, porém decidiu ler apenas um capítulo para ver como era a história. Ele sabia que não iria aguentar ler tudo, muito menos durante à noite.

Apesar disso, para a sua surpresa. Ron não leu somente um capítulo, mas vários! Ficou entretido pela narrativa, e embora tivesse preferido as partes das brigas, havia gostado das partes de romance "At�� que esse negócio de romance não é tão ruim assim... Mas o que eu estou pensando! Estou lendo um livro fazem... - olhou para o relógio - TRÊS HORAS?! Como assim?? Eu jamais passei mais que 10 minutos lendo alguma coisa, muito menos um livro de romance! Tenho que ir dormir, mas antes vou apenas ler mais um capítulo"

Quando Ron folheou a última pagina do livro, percebeu que uma luz entrava na casa, e ficou assutado, foi olhar pela janela e percebeu que essa luz era o Sol. Ele passará a noite inteira lendo, estava super cansado. Mas, ao invés de ir se deitar, teve um ideia. Ele faria uma surpresa para Hermione.

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 3

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Feel free to follow this story’s IG account (without spaces): ‘whenihaveyou . romione’

-------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

An argument broke out the next morning before breakfast, and it was over Ron and Hermione. Molly, who had woken up at four, had decided to distract herself from her thoughts by doing everyone’s washing. She had washed, dried with her wand, folded, and was sneaking into everyone’s rooms while they slept to hand-deliver them a neat pile of clothes. 

An innocent enough task, one she had apparently thought wouldn’t cause any distress. But upon entering Ron’s room, she’d gotten more than she bargained for.

Thankfully, much to Ron’s relief, he and Hermione had actually been sleeping at that time, and everyone was fully clothed (a different story to a few hours earlier), but the sight of her youngest son sharing his bed with another person had been too much for Molly. Her gasp had startled them both awake, which was then followed by Ron swearing at his mother and telling her to get out. The row had woken the rest of the house, which was now taking place in the kitchen, involving the rest of the family as well. 

What should have been the perfect morning for Ron, waking up feeling good about him and Hermione, was now one of misery for everyone. 

“Under my roof!” she bellowed at Ron, who shrunk into his chair despite the intense frustration surging through him at the same time. “Honestly, I thought better of you. Sneaking around, not even bothering to tell me… again… more lies...”

“Mum,” Percy said calmly, sitting a little straighter in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Mum, Ron is a legal adult and so is Hermione. They are at perfect liberty to —”

“Under my roof!” Molly said, ignoring Percy. “The pair of you… sneaking around...”

“They were just sleeping,” Ginny said, and both Ron and Hermione flushed a horrible red. 

Molly turned to Ginny, her eyes furious. “I suppose you knew about this! Encouraged it, even. Oh, and poor Harry. Where on Earth did he — ” If possible, her eyes narrowed even more. Steam was almost coming out of her ears. “You,” she cried, and Ginny shrunk away as well, turning back to the bench she’d been making her breakfast at. 

“Molly, dear, I think you’re overreacting,” Arthur said. “As Percy pointed out, Ron and Hermione are both of an age where they’re capable of making these decisions for themselves. If they wish for their sleeping arrangements to be… different, then I think —”

“Under my roof!” Molly said for a third time. “Neither you or Percy look surprised by this, Arthur. I suppose you knew of this arrangement our children had made?”

“Well,” Arthur spluttered, “I didn’t know, per se, but I —”

“No one bothered to tell me! How do you think it feels to be the only one to not know when her own son is… when her daughter…”

“Mum,” Ron said, his voice weak, “I said yesterday… you saw… we just thought… it would be too much for the moment.”

“Well, I know now!” Molly cried. “Is that how you wished for it to come out, Ronald?”

“Well, obviously not…”

Molly looked between everyone, having their full, terrified attention. “I am deeply hurt by this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “From all of you. Even those of you who thought you’d keep it from me, thinking I wouldn’t be happy for my own children, even in this time, to see that they were… happy.” And she stormed from the room, leaving everyone behind her, speechless. 

“Oh, I just feel awful,” Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping in the chair. 

“Yeah,” Ron mumbled, rubbing her back comfortingly. “In our defence, though, she told me off just yesterday about it being too soon, so I don’t think she would have been happy for us.”

“Ron —”

“No, he’s right, Hermione,” Ginny said. “But… maybe we should have… been a bit more direct about it.”

"We all thought it was for the best," Arthur said, his eyes following where Molly had gone. “I do think it was just the unexpected shock of… finding the two of you…”

Bill appeared in the kitchen suddenly, his clothes covered in soot and Floo powder. "Everything alright? I just saw Mum in —" He stopped, looking at everyone's ashen faces. "What happened?"

"Mum found Hermione in Ron's bed and lost it," Ginny said. 

Bill turned to Ron, eyes wide, and Ron felt himself go red, imagining what his brother was thinking. "We were only sleeping," he mumbled, turning away.

"Yeah, she carried on about being hurt no one told her, saying she would have been happy — though we all know she wouldn't have been — and stormed out," Ginny explained. "Was pretty bad, but at the same time, she has no right to be carrying on as she has about it. We're all adults here."

No one bothered to point out that Ginny wasn't quite an adult just yet. 

"I'll… go and see her then," Bill said. Ron heard him suppress a sigh. 

Everyone moved to busying themselves with breakfast after that, but the room was very quiet. Ron had never felt such guilt before, mixed with a burning anger. He got it, and it was why he'd tried to keep things from his mum for so long. Everyone got it. It seemed no one had anticipated the fall out of when she would find out. And Ron certainly hadn't anticipated her to walk into his room at five in the morning to drop off clothes. Usually, she used magic for that kind of thing. 

Still, he refused to feel guilty for having Hermione there. She was the best thing to happen to him since the end of the war, and he wasn't going to let his mother dictate that small bit of happiness for him. 

Last night had gone better than he'd hoped. The small moment he'd spent with Harry, having his mind off it, believing that it wasn't going to happen that night, had reduced his nerves. And then when he'd seen her and felt that overwhelming love for her, he hadn’t cared  about anything else. 

It had made the moment a whole lot easier, a whole lot more enjoyable, and he'd discovered with much satisfaction that he liked it. 

They may have fumbled their way through it, but that was over with now, and there'd been next to no awkwardness. It had felt right, like she'd always been more special than a friend to him; like he'd always known this was where they'd end up one day. 

Like he'd always loved her. 

He'd never kissed someone so much or loved someone so much in his life. Even now, hours later, he could still feel her lips against his, the way she had felt in his arms, the way she had looked… the way she had whispered his name...

And she had seemed rather happy afterwards as well, so it mustn't have been horrible for her either, which was good to kno. He’d been worried about her expectations and not fulfilling them. 

"You alright?"

"Hm?" Ron looked at her, realising she must have said something and he hadn't heard. 

She looked concerned. "I said, are you alright? You seemed to go somewhere else for a moment."

He smiled, nodding. "I'm alright. I was just thinking about… you.” 

She returned his smile, flushing, but said nothing else on the matter.  

The rest of breakfast went by in a blur. Molly and Bill had not returned, and everyone else ate in silence. Once finished, they hurried away to get themselves ready. They'd taken yesterday off, but today would be another day at the school. 

"I was thinking," Hermione said, coming to sit beside Ron on his bed just as he was putting his shoes on, "that I don't think it's a good idea to rub it in with your mum at the moment. I think we should —"

Ron kissed her, silencing her. He brought his hands to her face, deepening the kiss. She didn't fight him, didn't push him away, but when he looked at her, she seemed to be fighting an internal battle with herself as to whether she should throw herself at him or ask him to stop.

"She can't tell us what to do. I'll… apologise for keeping it from her, but I'm not going to stop being with you because she doesn't like it. I love you too much for that." He kissed her again. "I've wanted this for too long." Another kiss, and he felt her smile against him. "And you're the one bit of happiness in this dark time."

"I just feel so awful," she said. "She was so upset, and can we blame her? I mean, Fred's funeral is in two days…"

Ron let his hands fall into his lap, guilt creeping up on him. "Yeah, I know. I'll talk to her at some point today."

"Do you think maybe I should say something?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not," Ron said. "It's probably best if it's just me."

She nodded. "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I ever am to set foot in that castle again." Which was not much. 

She offered a hand, smiling. "In this together, remember?"

He accepted it, squeezing her fingers tightly. "In this together," he repeated.

…

Going back each day to the place where so many people had died was not what anyone wanted to be doing. The memories were so raw in everyone's minds that it couldn't be helped to stop and lose oneself at a place where they had witnessed death. 

Many tears had been shed over the week, yet people kept showing up, day in and day out, almost as if it were their duty to help with the restoration of Hogwarts. 

Students, former and present, staff and Ministry members, attended every day, working tirelessly to move or repair crumbled walls, fix leaking plumbing, or trying to retain the magic that had once filled every nook and cranny. But magic could only do so much, and there was much physical exertion used on top of spells. 

Ron found himself in the Gryffindor common room today, one place that had remained fairly intact throughout the Battle. Stepping into his old dormitory hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn't expected to feel. It had been more than a year since he'd last slept in his bed. Much had changed since then; he'd grown up so much in such a short time. It didn't even feel right being there; like he no longer belonged at Hogwarts at all. The reality of war had taught him more than what any schooling could do.

"Feels weird, doesn't it?" 

Ron spun around."Hi, Neville," he said. 

Neville had been one of the hardest working among them, showing up every day and giving his all to this place. Ron admired his dedication. 

"Almost like this was another time." He came to stand beside Ron, who'd been staring at his four poster bed. "I guess they're someone else's beds now, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess they are," Ron said. He watched the bed for a few more moments before Neville spoke again. 

"We're all about to head to the Great Hall for a break. Are you coming?"

Ron nodded, and without another word, he followed Neville down the staircase and into the common room. 

The portrait hole swung open before they had the chance to leave.

"Mum!" Ron said. "Wh—what are you doing here?" Molly had not been  to the castle once, the place where she had lost a son. No one had asked her to.

"Come to see you, Ronald. If you'd please." Her tone was neutral. 

Ron really didn't wish to have another argument, not in front of Neville, but he couldn't say no to her either. "I'll see you soon, Neville," he said instead. 

Neville nodded and disappeared from the common room, leaving Ron alone with his mother. It was the first time it had just been the two of them in almost two weeks. He shuffled his feet.

"Why don't we sit?" Molly suggested, indicating the armchairs by the fireplace. It had been their favourite spot over the years — Ron, Harry's and Hermione's. 

Ron shuffled over to them and sat down. He stared into the unlit fireplace, wondering just what she was going to say to him. Her stony expression didn't bode well. 

She sat beside him, her eyes boring into him, as if waiting for him to say something. He kept his gaze on the fireplace. Eventually, the silence must have become too much, because she spoke, and her voice was filled with anguish. "Horcruxes?"

Ron winced. He'd had a feeling, a part of him had always known, that Hermione had had nothing to do with his mum’s anger. It had been this; them leaving so abruptly after Bill’s wedding and not telling her where they were going. For going off the map for months, leaving her to worry. All to search for seven Horcruxes, the darkest of Dark magic. 

"All those months!" Molly went on. "All those times I forced myself to check that damned clock to make sure your name hadn't ticked over to 'dead'. Not even a message, a note, anything… Horcruxes, Ron? All three of you? Really?"

Ron sunk low into the armchair, wanting very much to disappear. His mother had a way of making anyone feel small, despite her own small stature. He had no desire to relive those horrendous months spent in a tent, the memories of Voldemort's soul speaking to him, preying on his deepest fears, and how worthless it had made him feel to the point where he couldn't take it anymore. It had been a truly awful time in his life.

“Harry was instructed by Dumbledore to not say anything,” he said weakly after a moment. 

“And yet he told you,” Molly said. 

“That was another instruction from Dumbledore.” Ron sucked in a breath and braved a look in his mother’s direction. Her expression had softened slightly, though he still wouldn’t want to have crossed her. 

“It wasn’t some big camping adventure, Mum. No doubt Bill has told you that I wasn’t exactly the best person during that time. We found them all, we destroyed them, but not before they almost destroyed us. Me. We had to do it. You know that, right? If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here, free of him.”

“Fred would still be alive,” Molly said, her voice barely audible. 

Ron looked away, unable to bear the look in his mother’s eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe we’d all be dead. Maybe he would have won the fight.”

“You were barely of age,” Molly whispered. “Ginny isn’t of age.”

Ron swallowed. He was so uncomfortable. His mother was on the brink of bursting into tears, and he’d have no idea what to do if she did. Usually, someone else was around to comfort her if that happened. His dad. Bill. Someone who was much better at dealing with these sorts of things. 

“It… just shows, I guess…” he said. “The way you’ve raised us all. What you’ve taught us. Never to back down from a fight.”

It had been the wrong thing to say. She burst into a wail of tears, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Ron,” she sobbed. “Oh, Ron. How could you?”

Ron watched her, completely lost for words. He shifted, contemplating whether to hug her or not. He settled for patting her shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Molly started crying harder. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“For… leaving like I did. For not being able to tell you. For… Fred.”

“Sorry for being brave?” Molly wailed. “For doing what is right? Don’t be sorry for that!” And she threw herself into Ron’s arms, hugging him so tight that she almost suffocated him. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Er… thanks.” Ron patted her back. 

“My children,” Molly sobbed. “All true Gryffindors, if I’ve ever seen one. Brave, loyal, and stupidly careless about their own mortality. The Sorting Hat never gets it wrong.”

And there the two of them sat, Molly sobbing into Ron’s shoulder, mumbling words about being proud, about how stupid they all were, but emphasising how she was still 'so proud' of him. Ron could only sit there, allowing her to cry, as uncomfortable as it made him. 

After what felt like forever, Molly finally pulled back, wiping her red eyes. Ron looked away again; he was really bothered by seeing her cry so much. 

“Just no more secrets, Ron,” she said after a while. “I don’t care if you thought you were sparing my feelings; no more secrets. If something — or someone — makes you happy during this time, then I want to know about it.”

Ron nodded, but said nothing. 

Molly started sobbing again. Ron stared at her, wide-eyed. What was it now? 

“You and Hermione,” she sniffed. “How lovely. Such a nice, young woman… so lovely...”

At the same moment, the portrait hole swung open again and Hermione climbed through. Spotting Ron and Molly by the fireplace, her calm expression changed to one of alarm, and it looked as if she’d much rather be out there hunting for Horcruxes again. 

“It’s alright,” Ron said, standing up and going over to her. “Mum’s got it all off her chest now. Everything’s fine.”

Hermione eyed Molly nervously. “Mrs Weasley, I just want to say I’m really —”

“Oh, it’s Molly, dear!” She jumped to her feet and took Hermione into a crushing hug. 

“Alright,” Ron said after a moment. “I think maybe we should, er, go and get something to eat. I don’t think I could lift another boulder — magic or otherwise — without food.”

Molly let go of a startled Hermione, smiling between them. 

Sensing she might start crying again, Ron urged Hermione through the portrait hole and into the corridor, whispering, “She’s a bit sensitive at the moment. Was very uncomfortable.”

But at least one good thing had come from that discussion. As they walked through the corridor, his mum trailing a little behind them, he slipped his hand into Hermione’s. He no longer had to keep his feelings hidden. If he wanted to hold Hermione’s hand, sure as hell no one was going to stop him. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 1

This can also be read on ffn.net and ao3

A/N: This story will follow the lives of Ron and Hermione from the end of DH, to the epilogue and then beyond. This places all of my head canon in one story, along with tidbits of canon provided by JKR throughout. I like to stick mostly to canon post war, so I've followed the books to a T, and mostly everything post war is canon or canon-compliant. There will be the odd change, most barely noticeable.

Also, standard message that this in no way follows the Cursed Child plot at all, and I ignore it completely. This includes Hermione becoming Minister for Magic (which I know is something people like to include), as it makes no sense in comparison to the other canon JKR has provided. Plus, I hate Cursed Child, so… yeah.

Also, prior to reading this, please be aware that this story is intended to be LONG, it is intended to be an extremely slow burn. The chapter length is currently unknown, but I am predicting well over 200 chapters by the end. This is also not action packed, nor is it filled with unpredictability. This is a story where I go into excruciating detail about their lives after the war, but the intention is to be no surprises. Everything you think will happen, WILL happen. Please be mindful of that before going into this. I don't want anyone to be left disappointed. The idea is to detail their lives, not to have you on the edge of your seat with anticipation! If that's what you're after, this story is not for you.

This story also will contain implied sex. Sex scenes resemble 90's sitcoms — you have the before, you have the after, but none of the in between. They also talk a bit (not a lot, because it's not my focus) about sex. I am writing about their relationship, so it's obviously going to exist, but it's not going to be detailed, just implied.

Also, last but not least, this story has an Instagram account. As it's so long and detailed, I've decided to add some hopefully additional entertainment to it. The handle is (with no spaces) 'whenihaveyou . romione' on IG. Please feel free to follow. If for some reason you can't see it on here, feel free to PM me for it. I'll be posting small sneak peaks, responses to questions, etc on there. I'm even throwing my hand up to attempt some fanart on my own story, but I promise that writing is more my thing lol.

And now, to the story (I swear the future a/n's won't be this long). I hope you enjoy, and as usual, your thoughts, comments, questions, are all appreciated!

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Chapter 1

Ron brushed a stray strand of hair away from Hermione's face, which lit up at his touch. A smile graced her lips, but her eyes remained closed for a few moments longer. It was their favourite way to spend their afternoons; lying on his Chudley Cannons spread, arms around each other, sometimes dozing or sometimes talking. After long days of preparing for the coming funerals and Flooing to Hogwarts to help with repairs, it was always nice to come back and not think about the devastation that had befallen the wizarding world. While everyone grieved, these few moments together were a welcomed solace.

When laying beside her, Ron allowed himself a few moments of happiness. Because that's what she made him feel: happy. When she'd thrown her arms around him and kissed him in the middle of the war, he thought he'd loved her then. Now, ten days later, he realised how mistaken he'd been. This was love. Spending almost every moment, day and night, with her; holding her, kissing her, had made him fall helplessly in love, and for the first time ever, he was almost certain that she felt the same way.

He kissed her lightly on the lips, running fingers through her thick hair. She smiled against him, her eyes finally opening.

"We should go down and help the others with dinner," he murmured. "Before Mum comes looking for us."

As was to be expected, Molly had been a mess since the end of the war. Fred's death had impacted all of them, but no one more than his mother. For the first few days, they'd not seen her as she kept herself locked away in her bedroom, Arthur bringing her every meal. On the third day, she'd ventured out for a few moments before taking one look at everyone and bursting into tears. She'd spent another two days locked away after that.

She was out and about now, but out of respect for her feelings, Ron felt it best to keep his sudden relationship with Hermione secret. He did not think his mother would take kindly to one of her sons finding happiness in such a dark time.

They'd intended to keep it secret from everyone apart from Harry and Ginny, but word had gradually gotten out amongst the rest of the Weasleys. Bill had stumbled upon Ron placing a kiss on her forehead one evening before going to bed. Charlie had caught them holding hands in the Burrow's garden another night. Percy seemed to just know, and Arthur had awkwardly found them in a passionate embrace one morning in a Hogwarts' corridor.

No one spoke of it after, though. Everyone seemed to know better than to mention anything in front of Molly, so meal times resulted in limiting their affection to smiles across the table. That made these moments alone even more special.

Hermione sat up, resting her back against the headboard and yawning. Today had been especially difficult; after days of being hounded by the press as they demanded answers and spat out ridiculous theories (at Hogwarts, of all places), Harry had Disapparated to who knew where and hadn't returned. If he had any sense, he would have gone somewhere no one would find him. Ron suspected he had gone to Grimmauld Place.

"You think Harry's alright?" Hermione asked, rubbing her eyes.

"No, not really," Ron said. "But I can't blame him. The media have been unforgiving. It's easier for us to brush them aside, because they don't care as much about us. Can't imagine what it's like for him."

"How long should we give him?" Hermione asked.

"A few days." Ron shrugged, feeling his mood darken. "Fred's funeral is in three days. Lupin and Tonks' the day after that. I can't imagine him missing them."

Hermione looked less convinced. She looked at Ron, clearly worried. Ron placed an arm around her shoulder and drew her to him so that her head was on his shoulder. "He'll be alright," he assured her. "He just needs some time."

There was a moment's silence, and then, "Ron?" Hermione's voice cracked as she spoke his name.

"Hm?"

Silence again. Ron squeezed her tighter as he felt hot tears against his shirt. It wasn't unusual for these moments to end in tears, for one reason or another. They'd both had their fair share of crying over the past week and a half. He'd lost count of the number of times she'd been there for him, especially after the first few days when the memories of Fred haunted him most clearly. They still did, but he'd managed to get them under control for the most part. Though, he was dreading the funeral.

"Hey."

Hermione lifted her head at the sudden voice appearing at Ron's bedroom door. It was Bill, looking at them both with defeat. "You two better come down soon, otherwise Mum'll send a search party. She wants to start dinner, and Dad is fighting her…"

"Mum wants to cook?" Ron asked.

Bill nodded. "She's insisting. Ginny is really giving it to her, but she's refusing to listen." He smiled slightly. "I guess it's good to see some of the old fight back, eh?"

Hermione pulled away, wiping the tears from her face. "We should go and help," she sniffed.

Ron nodded, and they both climbed off his bed. Hermione left ahead of them, walking past Bill as if slightly embarrassed that he'd seen her cry. Ron went to follow, but Bill stopped him by clasping a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright? Dad mentioned what happened with Harry today."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I think a part of me knew it was coming. He's been one moment away from an explosion all week. We've just got to give him some time."

Bill nodded, squeezing his shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Ron said.

Bill let Ron go past, following him down the stairs without speaking. Everyone was in the kitchen, Ginny arguing with Molly.

"We told you, Mum! You're not doing anything. The rest of us have got this. Look —" she threw a hand in Ron's direction, "— Ron's here now. An extra pair of hands, an extra wand! We'll have dinner ready in no time."

"Come on, Mum," Bill said, gently placing his hands on Molly's shaking shoulders. "Let's go and sit down." He slowly guided her from the kitchen and into the living room.

After she was gone, Ginny rounded on Ron. "Your appearance a little earlier might have been beneficial, you know." Her eyes flickered to Hermione, softening when they saw her tear-stained face. She looked away. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's alright," Ron said. "We're here now. Where do you want us to start?"

It had become the norm for all the children to prepare the meals each night, with some help from Arthur occasionally. It was the least they could do to make things easier, but since their mother had decided to venture from her room, insisting that they could handle it had become increasingly harder. Ron suspected she wished to busy herself by cooking for her large, yet broken family.

Tonight's preparation was sullen. Even the occasional laughter that had occurred other nights was gone. Ginny's mood was dark, her hurt at Harry's disappearance obvious. Like Ron and Hermione, she'd chosen not to share her relationship with Harry to her mother. If that was what it even was. Harry had pushed most of them away, including Ginny, and had snapped at all of them more than once in the last few days.

Dinner was even quieter, with no one speaking apart from asking someone else to pass a bowl over. Ginny, who had been the most cheerful of the bunch, said nothing at all and barely touched her food. Molly watched her with concern, but said nothing, perhaps understanding why her daughter was so upset. There was an emptiness around the table, one that could only be filled by Harry's reappearance — and, Ron thought, George's. Both were as much part of the family as the other, but neither wished to see anyone.

Hermione helped Bill and Charlie clear the dishes and do the washing up, while everyone else moved into the living room. Ron sat on a conjured two-seater couch that really needed a good clean, saving the second spot for Hermione when she returned.

A small chatter started around the fireplace, with Percy talking of how the Ministry was looking to get things back to normal in the coming weeks.

"Something needs to be done," he said to Ron. "In this time, people need leadership and we currently have none." He then lowered his voice so that only Ron would hear the next part. "Between you and me, the talk is that Kingsley Shacklebolt will be appointed the next Minister for Magic."

This surprised Ron, and yet, it didn't at the same time. He looked at his brother. Percy had become somewhat more enjoyable to be around since the end of the war. Ron didn't think they'd be best friends any time soon, but at least he didn't get the urge to roll his eyes everytime Percy opened his mouth any more. He was Ron's brother, after all, and finally, Ron was able to see him as such.

"That's a good choice, don't you think?" he said.

Percy gave a curt nod. "Yes, I think so."

Hermione, Bill, and Charlie came in after that, and Ron shuffled over so that Hermione could sit next to him. Instinctively, he reached for her hand, but she jolted it away and nodded her head in his mother's direction.

He flushed, his face turning even redder when he saw that his mother was watching the two of them, her eyes narrowed.

"Great," Ron muttered to Hermione, "now she probably thinks you're rejecting my advances, or something."

"Wouldn't that please her?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think either way would please her."

Slowly but surely, people began drifting off to bed. Bill left via Floo for his home — as he did every night — while Charlie and Percy headed upstairs to their respective bedrooms.

When Ginny announced she was going to bed fifteen minutes later, Molly's eyes flashed to Hermione. "I suppose you'll be wanting to go to bed too, dear, so as not to wake Ginny?"

Hermione jumped, her cheeks reddening from the brashness of Molly's voice.

"It's fine, Mum," Ginny said. "I'll be fine."

"But, you don't want to wake her, do you Hermione, dear?"

Hermione had not spent a single night in Ginny's room since being there, just like Harry hadn't spent any in Ron's — an arrangement all four had been happy with. Ron had a sneaking suspicion that something had finally clicked with his mum, because she was now watching Ron as if waiting for him to react.

"Right," Hermione said. "I-I'll go, too. Goodnight, Mr and Mrs Weasley. Ron."

"Er, night, Hermione," Ron said. "See you in the morning."

After Hermione and Ginny had disappeared, a silence fell over the living room. Ron could only stand it for a few moments before he jumped to his feet and said goodnight, too.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he was disappointed to find Hermione not waiting for him in his room. He knew it had only been ten days, but the thought of falling asleep without her suddenly made him feel lonely. He'd become accustomed to her presence, her smell, sleeping with his arms around her, and waking to find her cuddled up against him in the mornings. It was a feeling he had hoped would last longer; forever, if he dared think it.

Unable to help but feel angry with his mother, he changed into his pyjamas and climbed under the covers. It was cold, and he had far too much space in his magically extended bed.

He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, and just as he was finally drifting off to sleep, he was woken by soft, warm lips against his cheek.

"Hermione?" he mumbled, making out her figure in the dark.

"Who else would it be?" Hermione asked, pulling back the covers and falling in beside him. "Ginny figured your mum would come and check to make sure I really was there — I think she suspects I've not been sleeping in the spare bed — so we had to wait."

"Did she?" Ron asked, rolling over and wrapping her in his arms. Instant warmth washed over him, and he buried his face into her hair.

"Yes."

"I'm glad you're here now." He kissed her shoulder and held her even tighter.

"Ron?"

"Mm?"

"What I wanted to say before, when I… couldn't…"

Ron loosened his hold on her, and she rolled over so she was facing him. He reached for his wand and lit it. He'd not realised she'd wanted to say anything before. "What is it?" he asked.

Under the wandlight, he saw her smile. "I wanted to say that I… love you."

The wand slipped from Ron's hand. He scrambled to find it from within the tangle of covers and relit it. "You… do?" In the mess that was the aftermath of war, it only occurred to Ron now that despite his intense feelings and love for her, he'd not actually said those words out loud. He'd thought them — every moment of every day — but he supposed his brain had been so convinced that she knew how he felt, that he had just assumed it was something they'd said to one another.

"Yes," Hermione said, her face practically glowing in the dim light.

"Oh, geez, I didn't even realise —"

"It's okay, Ron. I don't mean to rush you. I just wanted to tell you." She sounded so calm, so pleased with herself.

"What? Rush me? Oh, God, Hermione, I love you a ridiculous amount it's not even funny. I thought I told you that? Why have I never told you that?"

"Preoccupied?" Hermione suggested heartfully. "With a war, with losing our friends…"

Ron kissed her hard on the mouth, to which she responded enthusiastically. He felt her heart beating furiously against his chest, she was that close to him. The kiss deepened — by her, not him — and Ron became suddenly aware of every part of her. Her hands, in particular, had become rather adventurous, running along his arms, his chest, trailing further down... (Merlin, she was enthusiastic)... and then it hit him. He understood. And his bloody nerves got the better of him.

He pulled away, staring at her, the wand still in his hand. She stared back, her cheeks flushed, her breathing heavy, clearly determined to not feel embarrassed by her advancement.

Ron, however, didn't know what to do. Like forgetting to actually tell Hermione how he felt, anything other than holding her at night had not been a priority for him. He loved her deeply, he sought her comfort, but the grief still lingered and he'd not even contemplated taking their relationship further. Well, it had crossed his mind, but not as a serious thought. Not until after the funerals…

But now that it had been presented to him, even if she hadn't said the words directly, it seemed highly appealing.

"Have you, er, been thinking about this?" he asked, pulling completely away from her and sitting up in the bed.

"It's not something that spontaneously popped into my mind, if that's what you mean," Hermione said. For the first time, her voice sounded flat. "Sorry if I scared you. I just thought… I should probably have asked. Do you want to?"

"Yes!" Ron said, a little too quickly. He blushed, but then noticing the smile on her face he added, "Merlin, yes. I love you. I want to. You just caught me completely by surprise. That's all."

"Sorry." Hermione also sat up, facing him. "Perhaps I was a little too forward."

"No, no," Ron said. "I liked that." He grinned, albeit awkwardly. It didn't stop his body from tingling all over, though. A seed had firmly been planted in his mind now, and it was a good seed. A fantastic one.

"Just not tonight?" Hermione guessed.

Truthfully, as much as the idea thrilled him, it terrified him just the same. He was more than happy to kiss her, to hold her hand, but the concept of sex was something different. The insecurities he felt about being so intimate washed over him, just like they had done when Lavender had asked the same of him all those months ago.

The only difference this time was that he genuinely liked Hermione a whole lot more...

Taking his silence for hesitation, Hermione said, "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to —"

"Don't be," Ron said, reaching out and running a hand along her exposed arm. "You just made me start thinking."

"About?"

He watched her, his heart beating rapidly as he did. She was just incredible. Amazing. She was perfect, and there she was, scarred as much as him from the war, but wanting him. Ron. She loved him.

"Not tonight," he said, shaking his head. "But tomorrow? As nice as it was, you throwing yourself at me isn't exactly how I imagined it to go… not for the first time."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay," she said, and she crawled slightly forward on the bed and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, now realising how much he wanted her back, how much he wanted to be with her. Now, he had to exercise a whole lot of control because her touch set his skin on fire.

"Hm," he chuckled, pushing her away.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe we should… take a break," he said, uncomfortably.

"Why? Oh," Hermione flushed, seeing Ron's own red cheeks. She climbed off him. "Right. Sorry." She laid back down on the bed with Ron beside her, though he dared not touch her again just yet.

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind trailed to tomorrow night, and despite his heart pounding in his chest, and his sudden sweaty palms, it couldn't come quick enough.

His last thought before falling asleep was of Hermione, and how he simply could not control just how much he loved her.

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And there is the first chapter of who knows how many! I hope you enjoyed, and remember, if you'd like some extra content, or just to interact, please follow the Insta (no spaces) 'whenihaveyou . romione'

This will also be published on ao3 (under FireTheCanon) and Tumblr (handle is 'whenihaveyouromione').

A MAJOR, HUGE, MASSIVE thank you to Autumn (insertcleverandwittytitlehere) who has graciously offered to beta this for me. Your feedback and help has already been AMAZING, along with your encouragement. THANK YOU.

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 4

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer.

Don’t forget to follow the instagram account for this story (without spaces): ‘whenihaveyou . romione’

Chapter 4

It was the day Ron had been dreading more than any other. He'd been trying not to think about it, trying to distract himself as best he could. But after two weeks, he knew that he had to face it. They all did. 

Saying goodbye to Fred. 

The funerals had started yesterday, the first being that of Colin Creevey's. The young Gryffindor had had quite the turnout, including all of the Hogwarts staff, his friends, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Minister for Magic. 

It was the mission of the Ministry to have at least some of its members attend each funeral in honour of those who had died fighting valiantly. Every person would be awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, and their names would be forever etched in two monuments — one at the Ministry, the other at Hogwarts. 

Ron hadn't known Colin all that well, but he'd gone to his funeral anyway, preparing himself for what was to come next. It was sad. Colin’s Muggle parents looked overwhelmed, yet honoured, by the impact their apparently average son had made in a world they weren't even familiar with. 

There had been many tears.

Harry had shown up, but he kept his distance. He didn't even acknowledge Ron or Hermione, which had upset Hermione. After the funeral, she’d made an attempt to speak to him, but Harry had stood away from them, watched the funeral, and then left the moment it was finished. Many people hadn't even seen him arrive, but by the sad look Ginny had on her face after he'd gone, Ron knew she had. Ron placed an arm around her, offering her comfort in the best way he could. 

Colin's funeral had been bad, but Ron knew that it wouldn't even come close to Fred's. Not for the Weasley family. It was due to begin at eleven o'clock, and the time seemed to go both fast and slow at the same time. Fast, because he didn’t want the moment to come, slow because he just wanted to get it over with. 

Ron felt lost as he stared at himself in the small mirror in his room. He was wearing dress robes borrowed from Percy (who, with his former job, managed to buy multiple sets of nice ones), but it didn't feel like enough. Fred shouldn't have even been gone. No one should have. It simply didn't seem fair. 

He was just contemplating changing when a shriek from the kitchen below drew Ron’s attention. A moment later, he heard his mother sobbing.

With a heavy sigh, Ron left his room and headed downstairs to see what had happened. It really was going to be a long day. 

To his utter shock, Molly's tears were not from sadness, but from joy. Standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down his own face, was George. He allowed himself to be engulfed in his mother's arms, and the two stood there for ages, hugging and crying. 

Ginny and Hermione, who were already dressed, stood nearby, tears in their own eyes as they watched the reunion with a mix of sadness and joy on their faces. 

George was home. It had been his mother's most desperate desire, to have all the family back together. Till now, George had refused. Despite some attempts made by all of his brothers in the beginning, George had shut every single one of them out. He had kept his flat door sealed to any magic, and no one wished to use a charm strong enough to break the enchantments. So they had left him to grieve on his own. 

Ron was pleased to see him, because he knew no one had been sure if he'd make it to the funeral at all. 

Tears still falling from his eyes, George pulled away from his mother. He looked around. Everyone was in the kitchen watching, silent. And he hugged them all, one by one. Fleur and Hermione included. 

Afterwards, there was some light talk, but mostly everyone remained silent. The funeral was to take place in the village below, protected from Muggle intruders by magic. It was where Fred had grown up, and it was where he was going to be buried. 

They could have walked, but Ron doubted anyone had much energy for that, so they went to the nearest Apparition point just outside the boundaries of the Burrow. Ron watched everyone turn on the spot, disappearing into thin air. Ginny grabbed Arthur’s hand, and they, too, vanished.

Beside Ron, Hermione gripped his hand. "Ready?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

He swallowed. Would he ever be ready? But he nodded, and he felt the gentle pull of her Disapparating them both down to the village. They landed within the confinements of the enchantments that had been placed there earlier. 

Ron felt sick. So many people were there already; most he recognised, but some were strangers. He saw Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Neville was there…

He felt himself sway on the spot, the only thing stopping him from falling over was Hermione gripping his arm. 

She'd said nothing to him for most of the morning; she didn't need to. Her presence told him enough: she was here for him, no matter what he needed. 

All he needed was for this day to be over. 

They walked forward, Hermione's hand still on his arm. They found two seats near the front, behind his parents. Bill and Fleur and George sat next to Ginny and Percy. Once seated, Hermione linked her fingers with his and they just sat in silence. 

It didn't even occur to Ron to look for Harry until he heard Hermione's gasp. He looked up; Harry had slid into the vacant seat beside her without speaking. He reached across and patted Ron's knee. 

Ginny stared, and he gave her a small smile. Tears rolled down her cheeks. 

As Bill made his way to the stand, a piece of crumbled parchment in his hands, Ron realised that he had been wrong. Getting to the funeral had not been the hardest thing — listening to everyone speak was. Bill had volunteered on behalf of his devastated mother, Arthur said a few words, and Fred's friend Lee Jordan spoke on behalf of George. 

Halfway through Bill's words, hot tears formed, silently sliding down Ron’s face. Once started, they wouldn't stop.

He could no longer see his brother standing up at the front; he was just a blur of shapes as Hermione's arms found him. They were warm and comforting as he buried his face against her shoulder and cried silently against her. His whole body shook, but she didn't let him go. She sat beside him, her arms gently caressing him in comfort, her own tears running down her cheeks. 

His mother's loud sobs echoed throughout, while Bill's voice cracked a number of times while he ploughed on with his speech. Ron barely noticed any of it, lost now, to the despair that he'd been holding back for two weeks. 

Fred was gone. His brother. How could his brother be gone? It just wasn't fair. 

Eventually the funeral ended and Fred was buried in a cemetery filled with so many others. It almost felt as if he was too good to go there, with people who'd probably had a much less remarkable life. 

Hermione stayed by Ron's side the whole time. Even after the tears stopped, and then came again, she didn't let him go. Not once. Not when Fred was buried; not when Ron couldn’t leave the cemetery long after most of the others had; not when Ron could only watch the headstone be placed on top of the freshly covered earth. Through everything, she stayed. 

The sun was just beginning to set when he came to himself. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, watching the grave site, hoping for something that he knew wasn’t going to happen. It was just him and Hermione… and George. 

Hermione finally let him go, her arm running soothingly along Ron’s arm as he made his way to his brother. George knelt by Fred’s grave, head bowed and tears streaming down his face. They hadn’t stopped since Ron had seen him that morning. 

Looking back at Hermione, who smiled sympathetically, he knelt by George and together they stayed like that for who knew how long. Despite summer being very close, the evening air was still cool as the sun completely disappeared and the moon came out. It was a rare clear sky, and Ron liked to think it was Fred’s way of saying one final goodbye. 

When his knees began to ache, and Hermione had long been gone, Ron spoke, his voice hoarse. “Let’s go home.” He dragged George to his feet by the arm. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

They returned to just outside the Burrow’s boundaries, walking silently through the night, over the hill, until the dim light from their family home flickered in the distance. Like Hermione had done for him throughout the day, Ron kept a hold of his brother, making sure he made every step, catching him if he stumbled. 

When they reached the Burrow, they were greeted by a sullen silence. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, some holding mugs of tea, others staring at something that wasn’t there. But George’s presence woke them. They all looked up, and Molly stood, running to him and throwing shaking arms around him. 

Hermione walked timidly over to Ron. “How are you?” she asked. 

Ron nodded. He couldn’t find the words to explain, but he was alive, he was coping… more than George, more than his mother. That was something. 

His eyes scanned the room. “Harry…”

“He went back to Grimmauld Place,” she said softly. “But… Ginny went with him.”

It was then Ron realised that his sister was also missing. Without any reason, more tears sprang to his eyes. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting against his chest. His tears rolled down his face and onto the top of her head, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She only held him tighter, lifting her head and whispering so softly that even he struggled to hear her. 

“I love you.”

Those words, as simple as they were, were enough to bring a smile to his lips, and a thought — as horrible as it made him feel to even think it — in that moment, standing in the kitchen with his family, he felt grateful that it wasn’t her funeral he had just come back from. A loss such as that might just have ended him. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 6

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account (without spaces) ‘whenihaveyou . romione’ for extra content. 

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Chapter 6

"When do you guys leave, then?"

"The twenty-second of June," Hermione said. "I've organised it all with the Ministry. We'll be travelling by Portkey there and back. There's no return date booked, though, as no one can tell me how long it might take to… restore their memories. It may take weeks, even months. We just don't know."

Ron sat with Hermione, Harry, and Ginny in front of Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlour. Like the rest of Diagon Alley, it had reopened at the start of June. It almost felt like how it used to be: people bustling about as if, only a month earlier, a war had not taken place. 

It was weird doing something as normal as sitting out the front of a shop in Diagon Alley after the past few years, but it was a welcomed relief. The weather was wonderful as summer was so nearly upon them. 

Hermione had kept the news about her parents a secret until she had had everything sorted with the Ministry. She hadn't wanted to burden anyone else with her worries, especially not Harry, who was still trying to cope with his own inner demons. Ron had gladly kept her secret. He knew it wasn't going to be a holiday as such, but the idea of going away with her, just the two of them (and her parents, he supposed), appealed to him. Maybe, if Hermione was successful in reversing the memory charm, they could actually take a holiday. Merlin knew they all needed it.

Now, about two weeks out from their impending departure, she had broken the news to Harry and Ginny over some ice-cream. 

Harry had been shocked that she'd managed to find her parents so quickly, but pleased at the same time. Ginny had beamed at the news and said she was happy for her. 

"It's amazing how quickly things change," Ginny mused. "I mean, six weeks ago we were… well, now look: sitting out the front of an ice-cream shop on a nice warm day. Who would have thought it?"

“It’s something I’ve missed,” Harry said. “Being free.”

After finishing their ice-creams, the four of them decided to venture down the alley to see what was open. Madam Malkin’s was functioning again, as was Ollivander’s. In fact, almost everything was open and bustling with business as it had been before the war. Everything, they knew, except the joke shop.

They stopped out the front of Fred and George’s shop, looking up at the boarded windows and locked doors. 

“When do you think he’ll be ready to open it again?” Hermione asked quietly. 

“I’m not sure he’ll ever be ready,” Ginny said, and Ron privately agreed. It was something Fred and George had put their hearts and souls in together; they had devised the products, done the marketing, opened the shop—all of it done as a team. Now that one of them could never set foot inside again, Ron understood the burden George would feel in returning to the business. 

“Surely he’d have to one day,” Hermione said. “I mean… it’s so popular!”

“One day, maybe,” Ron said, taking her hand. “But I don’t think any time soon.”

Another thing Ron realised he liked doing with Hermione was simply holding her hand. It seemed silly, but as they’d been nowhere but the Burrow, he’d not really had any need to do it. Now that they’d found reason to set foot outside, he found himself constantly reaching for her hand just to hold. She didn’t seem to mind either, always smiling when he reached for her. He was also thrilled when she was the one to initiate it at times, too. 

“It’s a real shame,” Hermione continued, “because I think getting back into it would really help George. Maybe we should help him get it up and running again? Like, clean it up, get all the products on the shelves…”

“Just how much do you plan on doing, Hermione?” Harry asked, sounding amused. “You want to write a book, you’re going to Australia to bring your parents back, and now you want help reopen George’s shop.”

Hermione flushed. “I just thought giving him a kickstart would motivate him…” She looked at Ron, as if appealing for him to back her up. 

Ron smiled. Merlin, he loved her. The look he gave her must have shown that, because Ginny made a disgusted noise and pushed Harry forward, muttering to him about why bothering to come out at all, if they didn’t seem to exist.

They all continued on down the street, passing by Gringotts, which had somehow managed to reopen following the destruction left by Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s escape on the back of a dragon some weeks ago. The post office, the menagerie, everything was back. 

Harry decided to step into the menagerie to look at owls, but it seemed that none of them measured up to Hedwig and he left empty-handed, his mood slightly deflated once more. It wasn’t until they decided to start heading back did Ron really notice how people stopped and stared as they walked by. Truthfully, he’d been too caught up looking at Hermione to really realise what anyone else was doing. 

“That’s him,” he heard someone whisper as they stopped near Gringotts. Ron looked around. A couple, perhaps in their thirties, were standing together, whispering and pointing. It seemed that everyone else had also noticed, because Harry was turning red and wearing a scowl. Harry’s eyes stayed fixed on the ground they were walking. 

The further they walked, the more people now stopped to point. Some even chanced approaching them — mostly Harry — and one small boy even had the courage to ask Harry for an autograph. 

Ron laughed at that, and the boy scurried away, red-faced.

“Is this what it’s going to be like now?” Ginny asked Harry. “People staring wherever you go?”

“Not much has changed,” Ron said. “Now, he’s just more famous than before.”

“Maybe we should head back?” Harry suggested, looking very uncomfortable. 

They all agreed and skulked along the side alleys to avoid the crowd as much as possible. They reached the safety of the Leaky Cauldron and hurried into the fireplace before they could draw anymore attention to themselves. 

Once back at the Burrow, they were greeted by a concerned Molly. “You are all back sooner than I expected.”

“We got stopped,” Ron said. “People saw Harry and —” he laughed, “— wanted his autograph.”

Hermione nudged him in the ribs, shooting him a reproving look. 

“Ouch!” Ron said, rubbing the spot she’d got him. “Is this what it’s going to be like now? You having a go at me every time I say something you don’t approve of?”

Hermione smiled at him in a way that told him that was exactly how it was going to be. 

Ron scowled. “Well, I suppose nothing’s changed then. Now I’m really looking forward to Australia with you.”

The room fell silent. 

“... Australia?”

Ron could have kicked himself. Telling his mother about his future plans had been something he’d avoided for the very reason that he was facing now. Hearing her worry.

Looking at Hermione, who was staring intently at something ahead, Ron turned to his mother and said, “Hermione found her parents in Australia. Well, the Ministry did. They’ve organised for her to get there and back via Portkey, and she’ll be restoring their memories. And… I’m going with her.”

He braced himself for being told he couldn’t go, for his mum telling him he had no place leaving the family at this time and that he was needed here. But that didn’t come. His mother paled ever so slightly, but perhaps thinking of what had happened before, all she did was nod. “You are of age, Ronald, and I can’t stop you. How long will you be gone for? When do you leave?”

Ron looked at Hermione again. 

“We leave in about two weeks,” Hermione said. “And the Ministry has planned for a month, though I do hope it won’t be that long. I’m hoping… it’ll be relatively easy to restore their memories, and then I can bring them home quickly.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and Ron instinctively moved to comfort her. 

“I see.” Molly looked back at Ron. He could see she was really restraining to say what she wanted to say. “Well, we will have to make the most of your time here then.”

Ron looked down, feeling guilty. He’d promised her no more secrets, and yet he’d not told her immediately after agreeing to go. He could tell she was upset, but really, it was Hermione’s story to tell and it was why he hadn’t said anything until now. 

“Sorry, Mum,” he mumbled.

“Not to worry, Ron,” Molly said. “You’ll of course be missed, but with any luck, you’ll be back in no time.”

“Hopefully,” Ron said, his ideas of spending some additional alone time with Hermione fading quickly. 

“Well,” Molly said, changing topics, “all four of you can help in the garden. We are degnoming, but also pulling some weeds. We’ve let it go for months, so it’s all hands on deck.”

No one said anything as they were ushered into the garden where Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Percy already were hard at work. 

“Nice one, idiot,” Ginny hissed in Ron’s ear. “We could have been using our time better, but you had to open your big mouth, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Ron said. “You’re lucky she’s not yelling at me right now.”

“When were you planning on telling her, by the way?” Ginny asked.

Ron went red. “Just before we left.”

Ginny tutted. “And leave us to deal with the aftermath. Clever.” She shoved him. “Come on, let’s get these gnomes sorted, so we don’t have to be out here any longer. First to ten gets off cooking dinner tonight.”

“You’re on,” Ron said, grinning. Despite his dislike of the task, it felt good to be doing something ‘normal’ at home again. Even if he knew Ginny would probably beat him. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 14

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Also, if you didn’t know, this story has an Instagram account called whenihaveyou.romione and feel free to follow :)

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Chapter 14

In all the years Ron had known Hermione, he'd never seen her more frightened than when the memories of what had happened to her resurfaced. And resurface they did, mostly at night when she was trying to sleep. 

Ever since the first time, she'd refused to stay anywhere unless Ron was with her. His presence didn't stop the nightmares, but she said that waking up and knowing he was there helped her recover faster. 

Ron didn't mind, not one bit, but he also didn't know how to help her other than holding her, running his fingers through her hair and offering comforting words. Seeing her so vulnerable upset him more than he thought it ever could. She'd always been so strong, so tough, that to see her needing him so much didn't make him feel good at all. He'd always admired her strength. He loved that about her.

And he couldn’t help but worry what would happen when September came around and he couldn’t be there with her anymore. 

The next month passed by in a blur, Ron splitting his time between training, Grimmauld Place and the Granger house, as well as his frequent visits back to the Burrow. It felt like he never stopped, and he was completely exhausted, but somehow he still managed to pass every test with flying colours. Well, all except the theory aspects. He wasn't the best at that. 

Before he knew it, August thirty-first was upon them, and that meant (once again) his last day with Hermione before she went back to Hogwarts. It had been drawing nearer and nearer, but to Ron, it had never quite hit him that she would be going away again — for even longer this time, too. Hermione had promised to tell him when the Hogsmeade visits were so he and Harry could come and spend time with her and Ginny, but apart from them and the Christmas holidays, it wouldn't be until next June that he'd really see her again. 

Ginny had suggested all four of them do something together on the final day, but Hermione had convinced Ron to agree to a dinner with her parents instead. He loved Hermione, and over that last month, he'd come to get along alright with her parents too. But... a dinner felt far too formal and much too intimidating for his liking. As he sat on her bed, watching as she finished getting herself ready (they were going out) he couldn't help but long for the comfort of the Burrow and his large family and the celebration Harry and Ginny must have been having with his parents and siblings. 

He really did like Hermione's parents, and to his utter bewilderment, they had accepted him and welcomed him without any questions, but they were very different people to what he was used to. 

He didn't understand Muggle money well, but he knew enough to know they had a lot of it and preferred to live a fairly comfortable life, which included fancy restaurants that Ron really didn't feel he had good enough clothes for — even the new ones he had bought with the money he'd earned as a trainee Auror. 

"You know," Ron said, grinning from where he still sat on her bed, "I really like it when you dress up. You look… amazing."

Hermione flushed, her usual response to any compliment he gave her. "Thank you."

Ron stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her towards him. Her own arms snaked around his neck and he couldn't help but notice she looked even more beautiful when she was so close to him. 

He kissed her, and she responded enthusiastically, pressing herself into him. He liked it when she responded to his touch like this, with her whole body excited about this kind of intimacy.

Pulling away, her arms still around his neck, she said, "You've surprised me, you know?"

"Surprised?" Ron asked, not sure whether he liked that term. He certainly hadn't been trying to surprise her in any way — he was trying to be as open as he possibly could with her, his new policy. 

Hermione nodded, grinning. "You're attentive, affectionate, and you say all the right things. You're really good at this whole relationship business."

"Er… thanks?" Ron said, feeling slightly put out by what Hermione seemed to think was a compliment. "What, you didn't think I would be?"

Hermione hesitated, appearing as if she wasn’t sure if she should elaborate, and the moment she started speaking, Ron realised that was exactly the thought that had been going through her head. She went slightly pink. “Well, it’s just… I shared a room with Lavender while you and she were… you don’t seem to be the same Ron that she got.”

“It’s because I’m not,” Ron said shortly, pulling away from her. The last thing he wanted was to start talking to her about Lavender — especially knowing that Lavender had only just been released from hospital due to her injuries in the war. It didn’t seem right talking about her in a way that could only be negative.

“Ron, I didn’t mean —”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ron said, looking at her again apologetically. “I’d just rather not go down that road, you know? I didn’t handle it… all that well. But I am different with you, because I love you, and the last thing I ever want is to lose you. All very, very different to… Lavender.”

Hermione gave a half smile, one that Ron returned. He watched her for a few moments, noticing that she seemed puzzled. He sighed. “Er, did Harry ever tell you what happened when we destroyed the locket?”

Hermione shook her head, her curiosity now piquing. “He said it was your story to tell when you were ready. Ron… what did happen?”

Ron sat back down on her bed, her beside him. He watched her for a moment before speaking. “Did the locket ever… speak to you? When you were wearing it, I mean?”

Hermione nodded. “It tried to tell me all these awful things. Things that weren’t true, but it could be pretty convincing at times. It was quite —” She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. “It spoke to you, too, didn’t it? Told you the same horrible things?”

“I dunno about the same, but you saw how it got to me,” Ron said. “I think it more so looked into what scared us the most and tried to find every way possible to convince us that those doubts were true. The reason it affected me more than you or Harry was because I already kind of believed those things. After a while, I couldn’t really tell if it was coming from the locket or me.”

Hermione was watching him as if this was completely new information for her, which Ron didn’t understand. Surely, she must have had at least an inkling as to what had happened. 

“But it had a memory, too, just like the diary, and when Harry opened it, it sensed me there. It knew I was the most vulnerable to it, so it targeted me.”

“Targeted you?” Hermione asked with keen interest. 

“It showed me and Harry everything that I had been thinking when wearing it, everything that it had tried to — and succeeded at — convince me of being true. It was one thing thinking it, but another actually seeing it. And even worse that Harry had to see it too.”

“See what?” Hermione asked, breathless. 

At this part, Ron hesitated. He averted her gaze, instead focusing his attention on her patterned floor. “My, um, worst fears coming to life.”

Hermione watched him, waiting in silence for him to continue. 

Ron shook his head. “You and… him.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “Among other things!” he added quickly. “Things… that sucked. Things that I don’t really believe anymore.”

“It… it showed you me and… Harry?” Hermione asked, seeming utterly shocked by such a revelation. “But Ron —”

“It was all in my head, I know that. But it was what resolved me, really. What prompted me to get up and destroy it. What made me determined to have you forgive me, to make more of an effort with you, and to stop feeling like second best — to Harry and my family. It was a blessing in disguise in the end. That is why you’re getting this Ron, and not the one you saw a year ago. A year ago, I was ridiculously in love with you, but had no idea how to tell you that, and the locket convinced me it wasn’t worth my time to feel that way anyway. So I decided to change that. Prove it wrong.”

There was a moment of silence in her room. Hermione looked at him with such deep affection that Ron had to look away, his ears burning red. There was a reason he’d never told her, until now, what had occurred during that time, and he was glad Harry hadn’t said anything either. 

After a moment, he said, “So, what did it say to you?”

But Hermione shook her head, blushing. “I… I guess its memory stretched as far as knowing who we were exactly.” And without elaborating any further, she jumped to her feet. “Come on. It’s almost six. Mum and Dad said we’d be leaving now.” 

"Well, that's just completely unfair," Ron complained as she pulled him up from the bed and led him from her room by the hand. "I tell you that my deepest fear was being rejected by you, and you think you can get away with just saying it had a really good memory?"

"Yes," Hermione said, amused. "I do."

"What did it say?" Ron tried again as they descended the stairs. 

But Hermione was spared from answering with the appearance of her parents at the bottom of the landing. 

"Not fair," he muttered into her ear, to which she smiled. And that, he determined, meant it wasn't nearly as horrible for her as it had been for him. 

...

Dinner was in a fancy Muggle restaurant in the centre of London. Ron hadn't seen anything quite like it — wizarding or Muggle. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and other diners were dressed rather eloquently, making Ron feel inadequate. 

Then, the menu had him gaping, but not for the food; even he could understand that the price of each item was expensive. 

"Hermione," he muttered, wishing more than ever that he was at the Burrow enjoying one of his mother's home cooked meals. 

Seeming to understand what he was looking at, Hermione covered his hand with hers and whispered, "It's okay. Mum and Dad have it covered."

Ron balked at her for a moment before returning his eyes to the menu, reading every item and ensuring that he would pick the least expensive there, whatever it was.

This dinner really was the most uncomfortable, and he couldn't quite believe the double life Hermione's parents seemed to live. At home, they were friendly and welcoming and Jane, Hermione's mother, reminded Ron in many ways of his own mother. But then there was this life, willing to pay exuberant amounts for a single meal. Though, if there was one consolation, the Grangers were by far the most casual out of the lot. 

He looked around at the other diners, all in fancy cocktail dresses and the Muggle equivalent to wedding-esque dress robes. He looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. 

"Don't make fun," she said with a small smile.

"I'm not," Ron said. "It's just hard to believe that you, who camped out with us in a tent for almost a year, had this life before that. Why'd you choose to spend your summers with my family, when you had this?"

"Why do you think, Ron?"

Ron opened his mouth to say he didn't know, but then a thought occurred to him. "You stayed because of… me?"

"Well, yes, and Harry, I guess. I don't really have many friends in this world. None, actually. And it can get pretty lonely not having any siblings to talk to either. I liked the homeiness of your place. All the people. And the fact that I was with others like me.”

Ron beamed at her, unable to help feeling rather flattered by her compliment. "Still," he said after a moment, "your parents clearly have a stack of money."

"Money isn't everything," Hermione said flatly. 

"Yeah… right, well… that's easy for you to say…" Ron cast another glance around the restaurant. Perhaps he could consider taking up a Muggle profession just to be able to afford to eat here.

"What are you two talking about?" 

Ron jumped, startled by Hermione's dad's question. He turned to face him, reddening slightly. Robert had a rather odd sense of humour, Ron had realised, where he made jokes but Ron was never sure if he was being serious or not until Hermione told him he wasn't. Ron liked him well enough, but he constantly felt like he was being scrutinised. 

"Ron is just feeling rather bemused about being here," Hermione said calmly. "He's unfamiliar with… unmagical places."

"Ah, I see." Robert watched Ron for a moment, and Ron felt his whole face burn. This was exactly why he'd not wanted to do this. This was why he really wished they were all at the Burrow. If he'd thought about it sooner, his own father would have been thrilled to have Muggles around for dinner. They could have talked for hours about things that probably seemed trivial to Hermione's dad, but greatly intrigued his own. 

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair, averting the man's gaze. Hermione seemed to notice because she said, "Dad!"

He smiled at her. "Sorry, was just curious, is all."

"Curious about what, exactly?" Hermione asked, almost sounding bored. 

Robert's smile broadened. "Well, the two of you haven't actually told us if you're together or not. We've, of course, assumed, because you've spent every night together, in the same room, but you've never said anything to us…"

"Dad!" Hermione said again, going rather pink herself. 

Ron shifted again. He'd been very careful to minimise his affection towards Hermione in front of her parents. 

"Of… of course we are," Hermione said, turning to Ron who was intently staring at some other diners. She nudged him, and he had no choice but to look at her parents. He nodded. 

Part of him expected some kind of interrogation after that — he'd regularly expected it — but her dad merely nodded and directed the conversation to other questions (quietly) about the wizarding world and what was happening now that there was no war happening (one they had only recently found out about). 

Ron felt himself relax, finally able to participate in a conversation that didn't make him look or feel like an idiot. 

In the end, the dinner ended up being rather enjoyable. The food was good, and the company even better. Despite making a pact with himself to keep his affection for Hermione to a minimum in front of her parents, he couldn’t help but place a kiss on her temple as they stood up and her father paid for their meals. 

She smiled, turning slightly pink. If her parents saw, they said nothing. 

He even dared to hold her hand as they exited the restaurant and walked back to where her parents had parked their car. 

When they returned to their house, Hermione bade her parents goodnight and indicated Ron should follow her upstairs. Ron surreptitiously did as she asked, collapsing onto her bed the moment it was just the two of them again.

Hermione watched him from where she was returning her shoes to her wardrobe, looking amused. “You’re funny,” she said. 

“What? Why?” Ron asked, wondering if he’d somehow blundered the evening. 

“Because you’re not your usual ‘say-it-how-it-is’ self when you’re trying to make an impression.” She watched him for a moment, amusement in her eyes. “I like it… but I think I like the real you better.”

“The real me?” Ron asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means you really don’t have to resist kissing me when my parents are around,” Hermione said. "That's not who you are whenever other people are around." 

Ron smiled at her, indicating she join him on the bed. She obliged, falling into his lap. "Well, they're the only ones I need to make an impression on, right? I mean, there's my parents and siblings… and they've got to like me, no matter what I do. Then there's Harry, and he really doesn't care. He likes me well enough, and he's told me himself he thinks we're good together. But your mum and dad…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Like you a lot. Now, stop worrying about it. You're driving me a bit batty."

"Batty?" Ron chuckled, looking at her and grinning. "I'm driving you batty…" He laughed again, his affection for her surging as she looked at him, affronted. "And just when I thought I couldn't love you any more…"

…

"Never thought I'd be back here," Ron said, staring fondly up at the scarlet steam engine. "Well, not until I'd be sending my own kids off to Hogwarts, I mean."

Harry, who was standing beside him on the platform, raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about that, are you?"

Ron scowled. "You know what I mean!"

Harry smirked but had no chance to say anything else on the subject as Hermione and Ginny returned from putting their trunks away, tailed by Luna.

“Hi, Harry. Hi, Ron,” Luna said brightly, smiling at each of them in turn. 

“Oh, hi, Luna!” Harry said, stepping forward to hug her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Ron hugged Luna as well, and her smile even wider as she pulled away, she said, “Of course I will be finishing my final year. It’s important, you know?” When Harry and Ron didn’t respond, she added, “But I suppose it isn’t for you, when you have a good job already that would usually require lots of NEWTs…”

“Er, yeah,” Harry and Ron said together. 

Ron glanced down at his watch. “You have three minutes, so I suppose you’ll want to be getting on the train now?” He said the last part with such contempt, that Luna gave him a very abrasive look. 

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Luna,” Ginny said, chuckling slightly. “He just doesn’t want Hermione to go away for a whole year, where he’ll only see her sparingly. He, of course, supports her completely in this decision for her education.” She stepped forward and hugged Ron goodbye.

He begrudgingly patted her on the back, all the while thinking that of course he supported Hermione in her decision to return to Hogwarts. It didn’t mean he had to like it. 

Once Ginny had turned her attention to Harry, Ron took that as an opportunity to pull Hermione slightly to the side. He’d not mentioned to the others that Hermione was still experiencing memories from Malfoy Manor, but now that he wasn’t going to be there to comfort her, he felt worried. 

“Write to me whenever you want,” he said to her. “And, if you need me, tell me. I’ll… I’ll find a way to sneak into the school or something, alright?”

Hermione smiled, squeezing his hands. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “I promise. Ginny will be there, and I’ll… let her know.” 

Ron wasn’t convinced, and it must have shown, because she added, “I’ll write twice a week. Promise.” And then she flung herself at him, arms snaking around his neck, and kissed him so hard on the mouth that he might have felt embarrassed was he not going to miss her so much. This would be the last time he’d kiss her in who knew how long. May as well make the most of it. 

The whistle from the train blew, and steam began billowing from the engine. 

Hermione pulled away. “I love you,” she said, smiling. 

“Love you too,” Ron said, forcing his own smile. “And good luck.”

And then they were gone, hurrying to jump into one of the carriages as the train began pulling away from the platform. 

Ron and Harry stood watching until it was out of sight. Parents were beginning to head back through the wall, some looking very concerned, which Ron couldn’t blame them for. Hogwarts was safe once more, but the memories of what had happened there in May were still fresh in everyone’s mind. 

“Well,” Harry said, turning to Ron, “I guess it’s just you and me until next June. What should we do?”

Ron bit his lip, turning and following the others back through the wall and onto the Muggle side of the station. “I dunno,” he said, and he meant it. He hadn’t faced the prospect of not seeing Hermione for this long since he was eleven years old. “Are you going to miss her?” he suddenly asked. “Ginny, I mean.”

“Every day,” Harry said. 

“Me too,” Ron replied, and he wasn’t sure if he was talking about Hermione or his sister. Perhaps both. 

They stood in silence for a moment longer, before Harry said, “I guess we could go for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron?”

Despite himself, Ron smiled. “Yeah, sounds good, mate,” he said. “I suppose there’s one good thing about them going away.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked. 

“It means you and I can spend some weekends together, doing… guy things.”

Harry snorted. “Guy things. Yeah, alright. Yeah, it will be fun, won’t it?”

Ron nodded, smiling, and this time meaning it. “Yeah,” he said, “it will be fun.”

[whenihaveyouromione]

When  Have You - Chapter 5

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you prefer. 

Follow (without spaces) ‘whenihaveyou . romione’ for extra content with this story. 

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Chapter 5

The week following Fred's funeral brought with it a tumultuous wave of emotions that Ron couldn't quite get a handle on. The pain of losing his brother was still raw, unhelped by the tears from his mother, the complete listless mood from George, and the way everyone walked around on eggshells out of fear of upsetting someone. It was the quietest the Burrow had ever been, and it unnerved Ron. 

Along with the feelings of hopelessness and sadness was the confusing — yet joyous — feelings of love he felt for Hermione. His feelings for her were growing every day, reaching a point where sometimes it became overwhelming for him and he had to be on his own for an hour or two. He realised this had left Hermione feeling confused, and perhaps slightly hurt, yet he had no idea how he was supposed to explain to her that the reason he couldn't be around her at times was because he loved her so damn much. 

After Remus and Tonks' funeral, something resembling relief had overcome him, and Ron found his relationship with Hermione taking on a whole new level of intensity. As the worst parts in the aftermath of the war were now over, and they became more confident with one another, things became more passionate, more physical, the two of them realising they had many years of unresolved tension that had been ignored and left unaddressed. 

Ron knew that not every relationship felt like this, for he had not felt even a portion of these feelings for Lavender. But with Hermione, he hoped that these high feelings of intensity were the start of something that could last forever. 

And then, along with his growing love for Hermione, was his guilt over Harry. His best friend. Despite showing up for the funerals, and seemingly letting Ginny back into his life, he still hadn't come back to the Burrow. Both Ron and Hermione had been to Grimmauld Place twice to see him, but he'd barely acknowledged their presence. The first time had been calm, but uncomfortable. The second he had been moody, and there had been lots of yelling. They never knew what they were going to get with him, and so — as frustrating as it was — they chose to keep their distance. Harry would come to them when he wanted to, so they would just have to wait. 

Summer was very, very close, and to escape the mood of the house, Ron had taken Hermione to the very edge of the Burrow's boundaries to one of his favorite trees. It was near where he and his siblings used to play Quidditch, and it overlooked the Muggle village below. 

They sat together under the tree, Hermione with a book in her lap, Ron deciding that watching her was more interesting than anything else. Overcome — like he always was lately — by those big feelings he couldn't quite grasp, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, startling her from her book. 

She closed it immediately and looked at him, smiling. He had found the one thing that worked in getting her nose out of a book: himself, apparently, and it had easily become one of Ron’s favourite tactics that he used every chance he got. 

And then began the deep kisses, the laughing, the smiling, the best moments of their time together. This alone time, this love, was the reason he got up every morning. 

They stayed like that for some time, until, most unexpectedly, she broke away and looked at him as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words. 

“What?” Ron asked. 

“Oh… nothing,” Hermione said, and she looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I was just wondering… you’ve been a bit distant from me at times, but then other times — like this — you’ve been rather… affectionate. I thought… well, I thought you might have been getting sick of always being around me.”

“What?” Ron fought back a laugh. “Sick of you? Merlin, no. Absolutely not sick of you…” He watched her for a moment, her face anxious as she awaited a response. “This is going to sound really dumb, so don’t laugh, alright... it’s just that sometimes I love you so much that I can’t be around you in fear of doing something stupid like… I dunno, some crazy dance or something ridiculous like that.”

He could tell that this amused her, and that she wanted to laugh, but she did a good job at containing it. “Oh… I see…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Ron assured her. “But that’s why I sometimes, um, can’t be around you. Quite the opposite of being sick of you.”

“So… you like doing this, then?” and she leaned forward to kiss him once more, their interruption moments earlier completely forgotten as they resumed where they’d left off.

"We'll have to come up with some boundaries if we’re going to stay friends. When I'm around, it's limited to hand-holding only."

Hermione pulled away from Ron immediately, and before Ron could even register who had spoken, she had flung herself into Harry's arms. He hugged her back. Ron climbed to his feet, noticing the big smile on Harry’s face.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione cried, "you came."

"At the wrong time, it seems," Harry said, and Hermione went faintly pink, looking back at Ron with an embarrassed smile. 

"It's good to see you, mate," Ron said, also embracing his friend. "We were wondering when you'd —"

"Wake up and stop feeling sorry for myself?" Harry said. "Stop acting like a jerk?"

"No," Hermione said, her voice soft. "When you'd start to feel like you needed your friends again."

Harry gave another smile, and it seemed genuine. He even looked better, like he'd actually slept some. Though, there was still a sadness in his expression, a hollowness that Ron wondered if it would ever completely go away. Harry had been consumed with a lot of guilt, and Ron knew he blamed himself for the deaths that had occurred. Those feelings weren’t going to resolve themselves in a matter of weeks. 

“It’s good to see you,” Ron said again. 

“Harry, everyone will be so pleased you’re back,” Hermione said. “Why don’t we go to the house? George is here now, and Ron’s mum and dad will be delighted to see you.”

Harry nodded, another smile reflecting in his still-hollow eyes, and without another word, the three of them set off across the field in the direction of the Burrow. 

As Hermione had predicted, everyone was thrilled to see Harry. Ginny, who had been drifting between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow over the past week, had given him a huge hug, and much to Ron’s disgust, kissed him, while Molly had sat him down and placed food in front of him, claiming he was far too skinny. 

For the first time in three weeks, the mood at the Burrow lifted. It felt as if everyone was finally home — well, everyone except Fred. 

By the time midday came, Bill and Fleur returned to their own home, Percy disappeared up the stairs to his bedroom, and despite Ginny trying to steal Harry for a few moments, Harry told her that he’d be with her after he caught up with Ron and Hermione. 

So after lunch, the three of them set out for the tree again. The moment they reached it, Hermione let out a gasp, turned and headed back towards the Burrow. She shouted something behind her about being back in a moment.

Settled with their backs against the tree, eyes following Hermione’s receding figure, Harry gave a wry chuckle. “I didn’t mean what I said before,” he said. “I like seeing the two of you happy together. We need some kind of happiness in these times.”

Ron went slightly red, his eyes still fixed on where Hermione had just been. “Yeah…” He turned back to Harry, who was watching him, as if waiting for him to say more. About Hermione? Talking about feelings wasn’t exactly how their friendship functioned, but a lot of things had changed over the past weeks. Ron was one of them. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Harry said. 

“Yeah, I do.” Ron hesitated, and then added, “It’s not going to be weird, is it?” The last thing he wanted was for their friendship to be affected by this new-found relationship. 

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I think I’d resigned myself to this happening eventually a long time ago.”

Ron smiled. “You want to know what the weirdest thing is?”

“Not really, but go ahead,” Harry said, perhaps sensing where the conversation was heading. 

“That it isn’t weird at all. I thought… well, I was a little worried it was going to be weird — you know, the physical stuff — because we’ve been friends for so long, but it wasn’t. Not at all. It felt right, you know?”

To Ron’s surprise, Harry smiled. “I’m glad for the two of you,” he said. “Really, I am. But for the record, that’s the only time I’m allowing you to share with me the intimate details of your relationship. From here on in, I don’t want to know.”

Ron flushed, then nodded. “Yeah, alright. I just don’t know who else to talk about it to.”

“To Hermione, I suppose,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I guess…”

The conversation drifted on to other things after that; things that they hadn’t been able to talk about since the war. Mundane things. 

Diagon Alley would be reopening soon. Shops had already started to open their doors for several hours a few days a week. Harry suggested if they wanted to escape the confinements of the Burrow, they should go one day — the three of them, and Ginny if she wanted to as well. 

Ron was just filling Harry in on how the cleanup at Hogwarts was going when Hermione returned, carrying a large book. For a moment, Ron thought she was going to read to them, but then she passed it to Harry. 

“Hermione…” Harry said, staring down at its cover. “Where… where did you find it?”

Hermione, her cheeks slightly pink, said, “I packed it with us… in the bag. I thought… I thought you might have needed it at times, but you didn’t. I’ve kept it safe, Harry, I swear. It’s in perfect condition.”

Ron shuffled closer to Harry to see just what Hermione had brought back. It was a photo album; Harry’s photo album, which contained pictures of his parents, Sirius, Remus, everyone. 

Harry looked up at Hermione, awed. “Thank you,” he said. 

“I thought you might need it now,” Hermione said, sitting on the grass opposite them. “Just as a reminder that this has all happened for a reason. That they started the fight, and we finished it. All of us.”

Harry flipped through the pages of the book, pausing at ones that were of his parents and of others who had since been lost. Looking at the photos gave Ron an idea. 

“It would be great if we could get something together like that,” he said. “You know, for everyone who died fighting both wars.”

Both Hermione and Harry stared at him. 

“I know they’re getting the monument at Hogwarts, and in the Ministry, which is great. Their names will be remembered, but over time, their faces will be forgotten. I’m thinking portraits, or something. Something the next generation can remember. A book, even, detailing their lives.”

“That’s a great idea, Ron,” Hermione said. “A book would be fantastic. A history book of some kind so new students at Hogwarts can learn about the war, learn about all those who died fighting for what was right.” She looked at Harry. “Your parents, too. Anyone who fought Voldemort, anyone who died.”

“You’d know how to get that going, wouldn’t you?” Ron asked Hermione. “I’ve got no clue, but I’d really like my brother’s face to be remembered, not just his name.”

Hermione was thoughtful for a moment. “I… suppose I could look into it, but I think we’d have to go to someone like the Minister to get it going. I can’t see Kingsley objecting, though. I bet he’ll think it’s a great idea!”

They spent another hour discussing more details of this supposed history book. Who was going to write it — they decided the families of the lost — and how they’d go about producing such a thing. How could they make it accurate and educational (Hermione said she could help with that). By late afternoon, they left the tree and made their way slowly back to the Burrow, where the others were already preparing dinner. 

“Oh, how kind of the three of you to join us,” Ginny said, her voice harsh. It seemed that she was unhappy over having been left out of their catch-up.

“Come off it, Ginny,” Ron said. “You’ve practically spent the last week with Harry.”

Ginny opened her mouth to say something insulting, but Bill, apparently sensing a potential argument, said, “Hermione, a letter arrived for you not so long ago.”

“A letter?” Hermione said, looking confused. “From who?”

“The Ministry,” Bill told her. 

Hermione’s face paled, and she asked where it was. Bill passed her the official Ministry envelope that had been sitting on the table, and Hermione left the room. 

When she didn’t return thirty minutes later, Ron went in search of her, finding her sitting on his bed, the open letter in her hand and tears running down her cheeks. 

Worried, he sat down beside her, an arm around her shoulders, as she turned to cry into him. He held her, not speaking, mimicking the way she’d held him a week ago at Fred’s funeral. 

Running his hand up and down her back, feeling her tears wet his shirt, he took the letter from her hand and read it. 

Dear Miss Granger,

Thank you for your inquiry into locating your parents. Due to the state of current affairs, we were unable to get back to you any sooner. However, because of your active involvement in the war, we hurried through your request and sent a team to Australia with the information you provided in the hope of locating your parents. 

This letter is to inform you that we have located them, and they are now under the watch of the Ministry of Magic until you are able to travel there yourself. As per your request, no one has made an attempt to restore their memories, but we will have you know that they seem to be safe, well and happy. 

Enclosed are the details of their location. Once you are ready to travel, please reply via owl, and we will arrange your travel and expenses for you immediately. 

Your support in the war is much appreciated, and we will endeavour to ensure you have as much support as needed throughout this journey.

Sincerely, 

Magda Finch, Newly Appointed Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ron flipped to the second page of the letter, reading over the details the Ministry had provided of Hermione’s parents’ whereabouts. It seemed that they’d made quite a life for themselves in the year they’d been there. 

Hermione continued to cry into his shoulder, and Ron held her. After a moment, he said, “I bet you’re relieved.”

Wiping her puffy red eyes, Hermione pulled away and looked at him. “I thought it was bad news when Bill told me,” she sniffed. “I thought… they were going to tell me the worst.”

“I didn’t even know you asked them to help,” Ron said.

“I did it the day after we got here,” Hermione told him. “I didn’t know whether to say something. You were dealing with everything, and I didn’t want to worry about it until I knew one way or another what was going to happen. I also thought it would take them longer to locate them.” 

Ron brushed away a stray hair sticking to her face and smiled. “I’m guessing you’ll be going as soon as possible?” A pang of guilt suddenly hit him, and he looked down at the letter in his hand. He’d not even thought to ask how she might have been feeling about her parents; in fact, he’d all but forgotten that she’d sent them away with no memories of her. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and being with her, that he’d failed to think of her pain. He gave her hand a squeeze. 

Hermione was silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then she said, “Please come with me.”

“What?” 

“Come with me, Ron. Please. I… I don’t think I can go alone. What if I can’t… can’t...” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and Ron once again drew her towards him. Her whole body shook against his.

“If anyone can reverse such a spell, it’s you,” he said quietly. He thought about her request for but a second before answering. “But of course I’ll go with you if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Hermione whispered, pulling away once again. “Please.”

Ron dropped the letter onto his bed and grabbed her face with both hands. He kissed her gently, unlike the rough, passionate kisses he’d become so accustomed to over the last week. 

“I’ll go wherever you want me to go,” he promised. 

She smiled. “Thank you. It means a lot. It’s just so hard to think about them so far away...” 

“You’ll have them back soon,” Ron assured her. “Exactly as you remember them.”

“I hope so,” Hermione said. “I did it because it was the only way to keep them safe, but now that it’s all over, I keep thinking, what if it was the wrong thing to do? What if —”

Ron silenced her by another kiss. “You,” he said, “are amazing. You can do anything. I have complete faith in you to fix it. And I’ll be with you the whole time, for every step of the way. I promise.”

She smiled again. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Ron said. “I don’t actually think I could let you go without me, even if you wanted to. I’d miss you too much.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she whispered, “I love you, too.”

Ron hugged her even tighter. Even though it wasn’t the right moment, he couldn’t help but laugh. “So, is this our first holiday together?”

He felt Hermione shake against him, telling him she was laughing too. “I guess it is,” she said. “Some adventure it’ll be.”

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 8

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer.

Follow the Instagram account ‘whenihaveyou.romione’ for extra stuff, including writing challenges and dtiys stuff. 

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Chapter 8

Ron had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Not only was he on a date with Hermione, she had taken him to Muggle London, and they were now standing out the front of a building that she called a cinema. 

She'd tried explaining exactly what it was to him, and what he got from it was sitting in front of one giant, talking portrait for two hours, and he was supposed to enjoy it. 

Well, he was going to enjoy it, but it wasn't going to be because of this giant talking portrait thing. Hermione had dressed up for the occasion, and while he considered her amazing all the time, he really couldn't help but admire just how beautiful she looked under the street lights in Muggle London. And he'd told her as such. It felt strange saying it, but she seemed to appreciate the compliment. 

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked. "It starts in ten minutes."

Ron nodded. He'd probably never be ready for an introduction into the Muggle world — not completely — but he supposed he'd have to get used to it if he wanted to be with Hermione for the long haul. And he wanted that more than anything (though he wouldn't dare tell her that yet). 

"You just do all the talking. I don't want to look like an idiot."

They walked slowly into the building, and Ron's first thought was of his dad and how this would have been some kind of heaven for Arthur Weasley. He'd probably be unable to contain himself with all the new things that were here to play with. 

Hermione made her way to a counter where a young Muggle girl was standing. There were lots of sweets around, things Ron had never seen before. He looked at them, stunned. 

Hermione purchased the tickets using Muggle money (it amazed him that she knew exactly what she was doing), and then they left the counter and stood by a door with the number 3 plastered across it. 

"I think you'll really like the sweets here, Ron," Hernione whispered after a moment. "I'll be back." And before he could ask her not to leave him alone, she disappeared again, digging into her small handbag for more money. 

It slightly bothered him that he wasn't able to contribute to their very first date, but at the same time, he knew that in the coming months he'd be able to make up for it. He'd sent a reply to Kingsley that afternoon to accept his offer. Training as an Auror was a paid job, and for the first time ever, Ron was going to have his very own money. He was excited at the idea, but also relieved. Harry had always had a lot of money, and despite having Muggle parents, Hermione never seemed to be short of Galleons either (apparently her parents were paid well in their Muggle jobs). Now, he could join them. He could even contribute to things like he'd never been able to before. 

While Hermione was gone, Ron took the moment to take in his surroundings without looking like he didn't belong there. It was a fascinating place, this cinema. He doubted he'd ever learn how everything worked, but he supposed he could try. Hermione was proud of her Muggle parentage, and it would mean a lot to her if he tried to embrace aspects of it. He just hoped she would be patient with him. 

She returned a little later carrying lots of food he'd never seen before. His eyes drifted from her to the food and then back again. 

"You'll like it," she promised, beaming. "I tried to pick things that are similar to what you're used to."

To Ron, none of it looked the slightest bit similar to the abundance of wizarding sweets he was used to, but he nodded. There was a queue forming out the front of the doors they were supposed to be entering. The people around them were talking eagerly about the anticipation of this ‘movie’ they would be seeing, and Ron listened in on the conversations with wide eyes. 

Soon, the doors opened and people began filing in slowly. Ron took some of the food from Hermione to help her carry it, remembering that she couldn’t just use her wand to levitate everything in front of her. Reaching the front of the line, Hermione handed over the tickets to a worker and she led them to their seats. 

This cinema reminded Ron very much of the Great Hall, but smaller… and with the long House tables removed. And rather than the teachers right at the front, there was a ginormous thing that Hermione called a ‘screen.’ As they sat down, she muttered to him quickly, trying to explain how it worked. 

So, that was where he’d see the big talking portrait thing in a moment. He’d been expecting it to be quite a bit smaller. 

“You alright?” Hermione asked, seeming to sense his discomfort. She suddenly looked concerned, as if wondering if she’d made the right decision coming here. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Just going to take some getting used to, isn’t it?”

She smiled. “You’ll like it, I promise. I… um… picked something gentle for your first experience.”

Ron wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and he didn’t have time to ask her to explain either, for in that moment the lights turned off and the giant portrait in front of them flashed on. He nearly jumped out of his seat, and might have done so had Hermione not seemed to anticipate the reaction and held firmly onto his arm.

“What the hell is that?” he hissed, pointing to the giant portrait. 

“The movie,” Hermione said calmly. “Well, it will be. These are just some ads.”

Ron directed his gaze up to the screen, eyeing it suspiciously. Muggles would continue to amaze him, he supposed, if this was what they considered entertainment. 

But, by it turning on, it seemed to have some kind of magical effect on everyone, for they all fell silent at once. Ron looked around. Every single person had their eyes looking up at the screen. 

He sunk into his chair and looked down at the food in his lap. Well, if he was going to be here for two hours, he may as well try everything. 

Hermione had been right about one thing, at least. He did like the Muggle sweets. She’d bought quite a mix, but hardly touched any of them herself (something about her parents being Muggle teeth Healers and convincing her too much sugar was bad). 

The movie started, and for a while, Ron watched it in fascination. He once again thought of his dad who would have been absolutely thrilled to be here. It was quite entertaining, the show. He laughed a few times, along with everyone else. They said some ridiculous things, but he understood it enough to find it funny. 

After a while, though, his attention drifted to Hermione. She really was beautiful, and he wished he had told her more often over the past month and a bit, because now he wasn't going to be able to tell her for a long time. 

Seeming to sense his eyes on her, she turned her head and smiled at him. He really wanted to kiss her, but even he knew this probably wasn't the place to do it. It seemed a little too open. 

So instead, he settled for reaching across the armrest and holding her hand, which she accepted and her smile widened at the gesture. 

It seemed strange that this was to be their last night together for a while, and yet it was their first time on an actual date. Everything had been so backwards because of the war, and he couldn't help but wonder, if they had started out normally, would he have felt the same way about her?

He decided he would have. The situation hadn't made him feel this way; it was her. It was all her. 

When the movie finished, everyone stood up to leave. Ron watched them, mildly fascinated at how normal this seemed for everyone. This was what they did for fun, when they couldn't do magic. This was what Hermione must have done before she got her Hogwarts letter. 

A thought occurred to him as they walked slowly from the cinema, hand-in-hand. "Hermione, I've never asked you before, but do they have Muggle schools?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said, sounding mildly amused. "Harry has mentioned it more than once over the years. I daresay I have too."

"And you went to one?" Ron asked. 

"Yes, I did. Since I was about six."

"What did you learn there?" 

Hermione stopped right before the exit, turning to face him, and looking exasperated. "Are you really wanting to spend tonight talking to me about my educational history?"

"Er, no, not really. I was just curious, is all."

Hermione smiled. "Can you be curious another day?"

Ron nodded. He then looked around. People were beginning to file out of the building and disbanding in different directions. "Where to now?"

Hermione gave him a rather devious look as she grabbed his hand again and dragged him onto the streets. It was quite busy, and they blended in nicely.

“I really hate it when you get an idea in your head and don’t tell me what it is!” Ron huffed as Hermione turned down a quiet road with very few people. “Where are we going?”

Still without answering, Hermione pulled him into an alley off the road. The moment they were out of sight, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her so quickly that he didn’t think she intended for her back to hit the wall as hard as it did. 

“Are you alright? That sounded —”

“Just shut up for once, Ron,” Hermione breathed, and she drew him into a deep kiss.

Surprised, Ron pulled away, both of them breathing heavily. He stared down at her. “Hermione!”

“What?”

“This is so very unlike you.”

The devious look she’d given him before, returned. “Well, I feel a little adventurous…”

“Here?” Ron asked, gesturing down the alley. “Really?”

She shrugged, drawing him towards her again in another attempt to kiss him. This time, he let her, moving his hands to her face. She tasted the sweetest she ever had, her lips the softest they had ever been. 

He groaned, reluctantly breaking away. 

“What?” she asked, the street light giving him a glimpse of her very flustered face. 

“I love you,” he breathed. “You do things to me, you know? Amazing, wonderful, incredible things.”

Hermione smiled up at him, her arms tightening around his neck, as if she was making a point — though, he didn’t know what that was. Then, just as Ron was about to kiss her again, three people walked past the alley and Hermione lowered her arms. “Should we go?”

“Where?” Ron asked, his voice weak. 

"Your room?”

Ron gripped her tightly and she smiled.

“Come on, I’ll Apparate us both.”

Ron didn't have time to ask anymore questions before they were spinning through the air and landing moments later in his bedroom.

He stared at her. Out of courtesy, his family always Apparated from and to the Apparition point just by the boundaries of the Burrow. Especially so late at night, when…

But his thought never finished, because Hermione had thrown herself at him once more, kissing him so furiously that he lost his footing. 

No thoughts were in his head now aside from her. All he could comprehend was her and how much he loved her, how much he wanted her, and how much both of them seemed to want their last night to be memorable. 

He kissed her back with so much force that she sighed in response and her hands came around his neck and then she pulled him onto his bed. 

Then he was entirely lost in her, his mind turning into a big pile of mush simply by having her so close to him. 

He was going to miss this. He was going to miss everything about her, about their relationship, so damn much. 

…

Ron woke the next morning to a feeling of complete bliss. He savoured the moment, keeping his eyes closed and remembering every detail of last night, every detail of Hermione, from her eyes, to her mouth, to the way her body felt against his. He knew that once he opened his eyes, the reality of today would hit him, and he wasn’t ready for that quite yet. He’d savour the last moments with Hermione for as long as he could. 

There had been a moment last night where he’d been overcome with so much love for her and he’d accepted something that he’d not allowed himself to think about until then — there was no one else for him who could possibly make him as happy as she did. She was it. It was either her or no one, but Merlin, he hoped it was always going to be her. 

He had a vague memory of perhaps telling her that at some point, but he couldn’t quite remember. If he had, he hoped she didn’t mind him being so forward. She didn’t seem to have minded, though. Or maybe she thought he’d only said it because of the moment they were in. But he’d mean it without sex being a factor. He hoped she knew that too. 

He felt her stir within his arms and he smiled, finally opening his eyes. “You’re not going to forget about me while you’re gone, are you?”

“You’re not going to forget about me when you’re immersed in your Auror training, are you?”

Ron’s smile widened. “Never.”

She returned his smile. “Then, never.”

He shuffled forward, kissing her, drawing her body towards him. He’d spent most of the night doing that, but it never got boring. Besides, he had to make up for all the times he was going to miss while they were apart. 

“I love you, Hermione. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Ron.” 

He began absently stroking her hair, watching her, knowing that soon this would have to end; that soon they'd have to get up and she'd be going away and that he'd not see her for at least a month. 

"Let's just stay here forever," he said. "You, me, forget about everything and everyone else. Who needs to be an Auror? Plenty of jobs out there, right?"

Hermione laughed. "Can you really see yourself working at the Leaky Cauldron, washing dishes your whole life?"

Ron shrugged. "If I got to come home to you every night after, then why not?"

Hermione smiled, then grabbed his wrist to look at his watch. "The Portkey leaves at eleven, so we still have a few hours. I'm all packed, so we've got the whole morning together. What would you like to do?"

Ron considered telling her that sex would be good, but by the look on her face, that didn’t seem to be an option, so instead he settled against her and said, "I just want to stay here."

And that was where they laid, for at least an hour longer. Then his mother called them for breakfast. She no longer came into his room ever since the incident some weeks ago now. 

Reluctantly, they got out of bed, dressed, and then headed downstairs to find everyone else already up.

"How was your evening, dears?" Molly asked as they sat at the table. Ron immediately began helping himself to eggs and sausages. 

"Do you really want an answer to that, Mum?" Ginny asked, smirking, and both Ron and Hermione turned a bright red.

Molly, shooting Ginny a rather disgusted look, said, "How was the picture… moving… thing?"

"Hilarious," Ron said, grinning. "I think I'll go again. There's different ones, right, Hermione? You'd like it, Ginny."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. 

"You, me and Harry," Ron continued. "Harry can work out the Muggle money for us. Will be fun."

Ginny didn't look convinced, but Harry, who was sitting beside her, nodded. "You know, I've never actually been. The Dursleys didn't really feel it necessary to invite me to any, whenever they went."

"Hm, sounds like the three of you have already got plenty to do for the next few weeks," Molly said, and a smile crossed her lips. She'd been thrilled to learn that Ron was no longer going to another country and had made a point to emphasise this delight whenever she got the chance. 

Breakfast was one of the best in a long time, Molly going to an effort to make Hermione's final morning with them memorable. After they'd eaten, they made their way to the living room where Charlie and Percy were talking about dragons and the Ministry's handle on them before they left for work. It seemed that the two brothers disagreed with one another, and not wanting to involve themselves in the argument, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny hurried up to Ginny's room.

"Percy is a lot more tolerable now," Ginny said, "but he's still a prat at times. That will never change. Have you heard, he's got himself a girlfriend?"

"What?" the others all asked at the same time.

Ginny nodded, grinning. "He hasn't told anyone, but I caught him trying to work out how to send a letter the Muggle way the other day. Her name is Audrey, I think. She must be a Muggle." She shrugged.

Of all his brothers, Ron thought Percy would have been the least likely to find a Muggle to go out with. Ginny must have been mistaken. "Maybe she doesn't have an owl?"

Ginny shrugged again. "Maybe, but I don't think so. He kept muttering about how he didn't know how she survived with this kind of post…"

"The weirdest part in all that is Percy has a girlfriend," Ron said.

"Oh, Ron, he's so much better now," Hermione said. "I mean, after the war. And if she is a Muggle, then she's not going to know about… everything."

"You think he's told her?" Ron asked. "He's a stickler for rules, and telling her would be breaking a lot of them. Or does she think she's just dating some office bloke with a good, but secretive, job?"

No one had an answer for that, so they changed the topic, Harry wondering when the Quidditch league might start up again. 

"Eh, soon, I hope," Ron said. "Maybe the break will do the Cannons some good. Honestly, they just keep putting together the worst combinations…"

The morning moved on far too fast for Ron's liking, and as much as he enjoyed the company of his sister and Harry, he now only had one hour left with Hermione. He dragged her from Ginny's room, and into his own.

"Ron—"

"I just want it to be us," he said. "At least for half an hour."

Hermione's face softened and she smiled. 

Ron wrapped his arms around her, hugging her, but not in a way that was romantic; it was a way that said I'm going to miss you so goddamn much.

They stayed that way for some time, and when they did pull away, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. And she actually said the words.

"I'm going to miss you."

"Just write every few days," Ron said. "Keep me updated."

"Of course," Hermione said. "I'll let you know what happens when I find them. I'd imagine they'll be disoriented for a few days. Of course, that's if I can—"

"You will," Ron assured her. "You'll do it."

She smiled, her arms still around his neck. "I love you," she said. "I love you so much, and I wish I'd had the confidence to tell you a long time ago."

"Nah," Ron said, "if you had, we probably wouldn't be here right now. We probably would have broken up over something silly and may not even be speaking to each other. The timing was perfect."

“Broken up over what?” Hermione asked, sounding curious. 

“I dunno.” Ron shrugged. “Something really stupid. Maybe I didn’t do my homework on time. Or maybe I said something insensitive, and it resulted in a silly argument. You know, old time’s sake.”

“We were a bit stupid, weren’t we?” Hermione said. 

“Yeah, just a bit,” Ron agreed.

Eventually, they couldn't delay any more. Hermione picked up the beaded bag from where it sat on Ron's bed, and they headed back downstairs.

"All ready, dear?" Molly asked, smiling kindly.

Hermione nodded.

"And the Portkey leaves at eleven?"

Hermione nodded again. "So we better be going." She looked over her shoulder where Harry and Ginny emerged from the living room. "Are you two coming as well? If not, I'll say goodbye here…"

"Of course we're coming," Harry said. "We can't miss seeing you off."

Hermione smiled at them, then said goodbye to everyone else. A moment later, Molly put some Floo powder into the fire. 

"Good luck, dear. I'm sure you'll manage to help your parents. And, do know that if they ever need somewhere to stay, they're welcome here, of course."

"Thank you, Molly."

"Because that's what they're going to want, Mum," Ron said. "After learning their minds had been altered by magic, to come and live with a whole family of wizards."

"Oh, Ron, stop!" Hermione said. "I'll see you there." And she disappeared in a wave of green flames. 

When they'd all reached the Ministry, they were greeted by Percy, who was personally organising her travel. He looked at Hermione with a small smile. 

"All ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, and they began following him to a lift. 

They reached the level the Magical Transportation department was on and Percy led them into a large room. 

There were so many odd and mis-matched objects in there, they could only be Portkeys. 

"Which one are you going to take, Hermione?" Ron asked, amused. "An old sock or will it be a tin can?"

"Actually," Percy said, "it's a cushion." 

Sitting on a desk was the frilliest, pinkest cushion Ron had ever seen. He snorted. "I love Portkeys."

"Five minutes, Hermione," Percy said.

Hermione turned to Harry and Ginny, and gave them each a hug. 

"I'll miss you guys," she said. "And I'll be sure to write and keep you all updated."

"We'll see you when you get back, Hermione," Harry said. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

Hermione smiled gratefully at Harry, and then, looking rather teary-eyed, she looked at Ron and flung herself into his arms and kissed him hard. 

Ron vaguely heard Ginny say to Harry, "What a goodbye!" He held onto her just a little longer until Percy's warning that she had thirty seconds forced her to break away (Ron kissed her one more time) and she clutched the cushion to her chest, as if using it for comfort. 

"Have fun," Ginny said, waving. "See you when you get back."

Ten seconds and wanting to get the last word in, Ron said, "I love you!"

But before she could reply, the Portkey and Hermione vanished from the office. 

A silence filled the room for some time, and Ron felt Harry's arm across his shoulders in an act of comfort. 

It was Ginny who broke the silence. "So, Perce," she said, "you going to tell us about this girl?"

Percy stared at her. "What — how?"

"Is she a Muggle?" Ginny pressed.

Percy looked at her, an incredulous expression on his face. "How did you know?"

"Are you going to tell her?" Ginny continued. "Or will you wait until you're married? Imagine the shock..."

"What are the rules anyway?" Harry asked. "When you marry a Muggle? I've always wondered."

Percy just stared at them, lost for words. 

Ginny grinned at him. "Well, you should introduce her to the family. Imagine the look on her face when she learns about Quidditch!" And leaving Percy with a thunderstruck expression, Ginny left the office with Harry and Ron following behind her. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 10

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Chapter 10

Ron didn’t pry, but he was pleased to see that his words had made some kind of impact on Harry, because on moving day, Ginny appeared the happiest Ron had seen her in a very long time. It seemed Harry had taken his very vague and inexperienced advice and done something to assure Ginny that she was important to him. 

Cheerfully, she offered her assistance in their move. 

Ron didn’t have much to bring over. Just his clothes (which, once he had his own money, he was going to replace), and everything he’d had pinned to his wall. It almost felt a bit childish taking all the Chudley Cannons things he’d collected over the years, but he couldn’t allow his mother to toss them out either, which he knew would happen if he didn’t take them. Perhaps it was time he got a new bedspread, but he could at least store the other stuff away somewhere as keepsakes. 

He’d just watched the last of his possessions fly into a large cardboard box when Ginny came into his room and sat down on his now bare bed. She looked around at the empty walls, where all of his posters had once been, and smiled. “Ah, so that is the colour of your walls?”

“Ha, ha.”

“Hermione will be disappointed,” Ginny continued. “She actually told me she thought your obsession with the Cannons was endearing; even when I told her you’d had it that way since you were five.”

“Really?” Ron asked, his mind suddenly picturing an even bigger room for more souvenirs. “She likes my room?” 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “She loves a lot about you, Chudley-Cannons-obsession included.” She looked at the box on the floor and smiled. “But I’d still think of a new way to decorate.”

“You’re being unnaturally nice,” Ron said, suddenly suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just assume I have you to thank for Harry’s sudden change in attitude.”

Ron flushed. “Er, he told you about that?”. He really didn’t want to engage with Ginny in a conversation about this. It was one thing giving Harry advice; it was a whole other thing to have to talk to his sister about her lovelife. Though, from what she had just told him, it seemed that Hermione and Ginny didn’t seem to have an issue discussing theirs.

“No, but it was such a sudden change, I assumed someone was in his ear, and you were the one I told about my frustrations, so I figured… well, thanks, Ron.”

“Anytime,” Ron mumbled, not meeting her eye. “Someone needed to say it. I don’t want him messing you around.”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Ginny continued, as if she was oblivious to his awkwardness. “You and I, being friends. I mean, you’re my brother and I love you, but it’s almost as if we’re friends now, too.”

“I guess,” Ron said, the thought only just occurring to him that he had, in fact, been spending a lot of time with his sister since the war. “It makes sense, I suppose. I’m friends with Harry, you’re friends with Hermione, I’m with Hermione, you’re… with Harry.” The last part came out in a squeak.

Ginny snorted. “It really makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Me being with Harry?”

“Well, you are my sister,” Ron said, “and he’s my best mate, and… you’re my sister, and it just feels… weird. But I’m alright so long as I don’t hear about the intimate details —”

“Says you, who shares that with Harry!” Ginny scoffed. 

“That’s different,” Ron said. 

“How?” 

“Hermione isn’t his little sister.”

Ginny laughed. “You being my brother doesn’t seem to stop her…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ginny stood up from the bed, grinning. Then, catching Ron completely off guard, she hugged him. Ron hugged her back, and he realised that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even hugged his sister. They must have been really young…

“What was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.

“For standing up for me,” Ginny said. “Even when I don’t need it, even when I resent you for it, even when it’s to your best friend. Thank you.”

“Er, anytime.” Ron picked the box up from the floor, and Ginny followed him down the many flights of stairs until they reached the bottom. Harry was already waiting, with even less stuff than Ron had. 

It was a stark reminder for Ron that while Harry may have been famous in the wizarding world, he had grown up with less than Ron had. It had taken Ron a very long time to work it out; that his best friend in the whole world had had a miserable life growing up thanks to his Muggle relatives, and most of the time, Harry had never sought the attention he got. 

Ron got that now, and he no longer envied Harry. In fact, he felt sorry for him. Ron wanted nothing less than to ever be in Harry’s shoes. 

Harry eyed the box Ron carried in his arms, then smiled. “Plan on decorating the house?” he asked.

“No,” Ron said. “I just don’t want Mum throwing them out. Although,” he looked to Ginny, “apparently Hermione finds it endearing, so you never know.”

Harry snorted and then nodded to the fireplace. “You ready?”

“Yep.” 

It felt very odd to be leaving the Burrow, knowing that he’d never be back. Not to be living there, anyway. He’d probably still come over for dinner often, and to visit. This had been the only home he had known, and as small and as crowded as it was, it was still home, and, if he was being honest, always would be. No matter where he lived in the future, he’d always remember the Burrow. 

Molly gave them each a hug, wiping her eyes and carrying on like it would be the last time she’d ever see them. She then placed a container of food on top of Ron’s box. 

“That’s so you boys don’t go hungry tonight.” She sniffed, gave them both another hug, and finally stepped back to give them access to the fireplace. 

“It’s alright, Mum,” Ron said, throwing some Floo powder into it. “We’ll come back to visit often. You’re all good.”

Ron let Harry go first, considering it was his house. Ginny said goodbye to him in a way that forced Ron to look away. She said something about seeing him tomorrow, letting him settle in. Then Harry was gone. 

With one last goodbye (to his family and his home), Ron followed and was soon stepping into the much darker room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. 

He looked around, a strange feeling settling upon him, and it wasn’t because this was now his home; Grimmauld Place had always made him feel a little uncomfortable, even when it had been bustling with the Order.

“The Blacks were a miserable sort, weren’t they?” he said to Harry. “We definitely need to brighten this place up a bit if we’re going to be living here.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, definitely can’t live here with house-elf heads all through the house. Hermione would have a fit. They’ll be the first to go. Maybe some new furniture, too. Something more…”

“Colourful?” Ron offered, looking down at his box of Chudley Cannons stuff again. “I mean —”

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Harry promised. “For now, let’s just sort out what’s what.”

Ron followed Harry up the creaky staircase, stopping on the landing with the covered portrait of Walburga Black. “I really wish that could go,” he said. “Not sure I fancy coming down for breakfast every morning and having to see her.” He shuddered, still remembering the times she’d screeched for hours at a time when he, Harry and Hermione had stayed there for a brief time on their Horcrux hunt. 

“We’ll work on that, too,” Harry said. “Maybe Auror training will teach us some new tricks that we can use.”

“If Moody couldn’t do it, do you think we can?” Ron asked. 

Harry shrugged, continuing up the stairs until they reached some of the bedrooms. 

“You can have that one,” Ron said, indicating the one Harry had lived in for a bit after the war. “If you want, I mean. I guess we have plenty to choose from.”

“Nah, this will do me,” Harry said. “Which one will you pick?”

Ron contemplated some of the wooden doors. One had belonged to Sirius’ parents, which he flat out refused to even consider. Another was the one he’d stayed in just the other year. “That one, I guess.”

Harry nodded. 

Ron pushed open the door to the room slightly down the hall and opposite Harry’s room. It was just as he had left it before; cold, dark and rather gloomy. At least this time he had the means to change it. 

He set the box down and turned to Harry. “Are we crazy for living here?” he asked. “It’s not the best place in the world…”

“It’s the only other home I know,” Harry said. “It’ll be alright for a while, won’t it?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess. It’s huge for the two of us, though.”

“Would have been even bigger with just me.” And Ron saw the grateful smile Harry gave him. It warmed Ron; he was welcome here. 

“So,” Ron began, “what should we do on our first night here?”

…

The answer to that question was to have a quiet night in. That evening, around dinner time, Ron fetched the food his mother had given them, and they sat in the large kitchen at the end of the table to eat it. It wasn’t much, but it was more than what either of them could have cooked for themselves.

“So, maybe shopping for food is the first step tomorrow?” Ron asked as he sent his empty plate flying to the sink. “Where is Kreacher, anyway?”

“I… dismissed him,” Harry said. “When I first came back. He wasn’t too pleased about it, but he’s free now. Who knows where he’s gone, but I’m sure if we ever need him, he’ll be glad to come back to the house of his old master.”

“Right, so I guess we’ll be doing our own dishes then?” Ron said, and Harry smirked.

“Don’t let Hermione hear you saying that,” he said. 

“Don’t plan on it,” Ron said, yawning. To his surprise, he realised that that was the first time since that morning that he’d thought about Hermione. In the hours leading up to dinner, he and Harry had attempted to brighten up the place, but to no avail. “I hope she’s alright,” he added after a moment.

“Percy said she was fine, didn’t he?” Harry asked. “That it was all going to plan?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, but I’d love to hear from her personally, you know? I guess it takes a while for an owl to get here from Australia.”

“I guess…” Harry looked around the empty kitchen, frowning. “Hey, you don’t fancy a Butterbeer, do you?”

“Sure,” Ron said. “You got any?”

“No,” Harry said, “but I can get some. Why don’t we really celebrate our first night as housemates?”

“By getting drunk?” Ron asked. 

“No, by, just… celebrating?”

Ron grinned. “Sounds like a plan, mate. Listen, you get them this time, and once we start getting paid for the training, I’ll do the next one.” Once again, he felt a thrill rush through him over the thought of making his own money. There were so many things he wanted to do with it that he doubted he’d be able to do it all on the first go. 

“Agreed,” Harry said and he clambered from his seat. “Won’t be too long,” and he vanished down the hall, where Ron heard the whoosh of Harry disappearing via the fireplace. 

The house immediately became quieter the moment Harry was gone. Ron got up from his own chair and wandered back down the hall and to the stairs. He contemplated writing to Hermione while Harry was out and letting her know that he wasn’t at the Burrow anymore. But then he decided against it. She had far more important things to worry about than him telling her that he’d moved house. He’d mention it in a reply whenever he received an update from her. 

Instead, he moved into the living area, which — like the rest of the house — was dark and bland. Sirius had hated this place growing up and as an adult, and Ron had never been a fan of it. It held a lot of memories for him, good and bad, and he hoped that eventually he’d be able to erase the bad ones entirely. 

He moved into the drawing room and sat down on the sofa, smiling slightly to himself. Here had been a good memory for him. It hadn’t been that long ago, though it felt like a lifetime. It was the first night here after escaping the wedding, and they’d all been terrified of being discovered after the attack in Muggle London. 

Ron remembered how he’d insisted he sleep on the floor and let Hermione sleep on the cushions. It seemed silly now, considering all that had happened, but it had felt right at the time. He’d been so desperate to prove himself to her despite having just fled an attack on theirs — and everyone else’s — lives. In fact, it had seemed even more important in that moment to give her some sign about how he felt. How many more days would they have together?

And it had kind of worked, too, for not long after Harry had fallen asleep she’d shifted on the cushions, her head turning slightly to face him. She’d been so close in that moment, and even with his own fear for his family, his father’s Patronus the only word that they were safe, her presence soothed him. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered. 

Those two words put everything else aside then, and he reached for her hand and squeezed it. 

“Me too,” was all he said. 

He had expected her to let go after that, but she didn’t, and he had absolutely no intention of letting go if she didn’t want to. They’d fallen asleep like that, and it had been the calmest he had felt in a very long time. 

In the present, he sat there for a long while, until Harry returned carrying some bottles of Butterbeer and one large bottle of Firewhisky. He held them up. “All ready to go!” he said.

The remainder of the evening was great, Ron thought. They chatted, mostly about Quidditch and what would happen once the new season started. Ron, as usual, had higher expectations for the Cannons than he should have, while Harry said if it was possible, he’d really like to attend a game or two. His only experience in watching the professionals was in the World Cup, which had been years ago now.

“I hear Oliver Wood is actually getting a chance to play this year,” Ron said. “So the Prophet says, anyway.”

They both smiled at that, and as amusing as it was, Harry and Ron agreed that they were genuinely pleased for the old Gryffindor captain. 

“Though, I’ll be honest, it would be a sweet victory if the Cannons beat Puddlemere,” Ron said. 

As the evening wore on, and the Butterbeer bottles slowly emptied, Ron found himself contemplating what life was going to be like in the coming months. The day after next he’d be all consumed with training, but what would happen after that? Once training was complete? Would he become a real Auror? Someone who could go on missions, catch Dark wizards? 

And what of his life with Hermione? She wanted to finish school, and he had no doubt that once she got her one hundred NEWTs or whatever exceptional result she was capable of, she’d be highly sought after in whatever career she chose to pursue. But then what? 

“You alright there?” Harry asked, snapping Ron from his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You looked as if you were lost in thought,” Harry said. “And you had a stupid grin on your face.”

“Oh, right.” Ron felt his ears burning. “I was just thinking.” He wasn’t sure Harry would appreciate him talking about how he just simply could not imagine a future that didn’t involve Hermione in it anymore, so to change the topic, he said, “This’ll be great, won’t it?”

“What will?” Harry asked.

“The two of us living together?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a small smile. “I think it’ll be fantastic.”

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

The next week was the longest and hardest of Ron's life, and that was saying something, considering he had spent months alone and miserable when he'd left the tent all those nights ago and been unable to return. 

This time, however, he had his friends and family around him, and yet he missed Hermione more than he ever had before. He felt rather stupid, really, feeling so strongly, but he supposed the difference this time was that he knew how she felt about him, which made her absence so much more unbearable.

Hermione had not written to him in her week away but had made contact with the Ministry to update on her situation. Percy had passed on the information. She'd located her parents, but the last they'd heard (two days ago), she'd been unable to reverse the memory charm she’d placed on them. Not because she couldn't, but because she was having difficulty in gaining her parents' trust to let her get close enough to perform it. 

Ron couldn't imagine being in her shoes. He knew how much her parents meant to her and how hard it had been to erase their memories to begin with. He didn't want to think about what would happen if she couldn't get to them. 

One thing that Hermione's absence was good for, though, was connecting once again with George. Ron had been so caught up with Hermione and his own grief that he had not made the effort he perhaps should have to check in with his brother. George’s mood fluctuated greatly from day to day — hour to hour, really — which meant that his presence at the Burrow was sporadic, and he was prone to simply getting up and leaving when things got too much. As much as he wished to, Ron had been too afraid to say anything more than a hello to his brother out of fear of upsetting him.

But during his week before Auror training, and with a lot of time on his hands, Ron had made the decision that it was time. No one else had been successful in getting through to George, but Ron hoped that maybe he could. 

It was a good start when George answered the door to his flat with a smile on his face. 

"Hey!" he said.

"Hey," Ron replied. "Mind if I come in?"

George stepped aside and allowed Ron to pass. Ron immediately knew that his brother had left all pretence of joy at the door. With a sinking heart, he turned to George and said,  "Mate, you really need to —"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." George sighed, using his wand to push aside a pile of clothes on an armchair so Ron could sit.

"If Mum saw how you're living…" Ron continued, looking uneasily around at the piles of washed and unwashed clothes, dirty dishes; bits of food scraps that had fallen to the floor, seemingly weeks ago, gave off an unpleasant smell. Ron wasn’t tidy and organised most days, but even he felt the urge to take out his wand and offer his assistance. 

"Don't tell her!" George said. "I don't need that right now. It's… well, it’s how we left it before we were called away to fight, you know. I’ve just… added to it." He sat on the second armchair, not bothering to push anything aside. "So, how have you been?"

Ron nodded. "Alright, I suppose. I start Auror training on Monday."

"Bill mentioned that," George said, giving another wide smile. "Fancy that. My little brother, an Auror. Never been prouder."

Despite himself, Ron grinned. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve always kind of wanted to… but I never really believed… it’ll be fun, I reckon. How have you been?”

"Speaking of what you’ve always wanted," George said, as if Ron hadn’t said anything, "I have not had the chance to tell you how relieved I am that you and Hermione finally sorted yourselves out." He paused, thoughtful, and when he spoke again, his voice took on a tone that resembled humour, but was like he couldn’t bring himself to actually laugh. "Fred and I, we had a plan: if one of you hadn't made a move by the end of your seventh year, we were going to lock you in a broom cupboard together until something happened. Glad we didn't have to eventuate to that."

Ron flinched at the mention of Fred’s name. He could barely stand the look that flashed across George’s face, and turned towards the growing pile of dishes accumulating in the kitchen. "Yeah, well, she's gone for the moment."

"And I hear you've been moping around like a lovesick puppy because of it."

"I have not!" Ron scowled. "Who told you that? Ginny, I bet. I just miss her. Things finally happen, and then she goes away…"

George grinned, and this time it seemed genuine. "She'll be back. Are you in love with her? Actually, that’s a stupid question, of course you are.”

Ron smiled. This was the George he remembered. 

For a while, they talked about other things, but eventually the topic couldn't be avoided anymore. It wasn’t the main reason he’d come, but it was something Harry and Ginny had suggested he bring up while he was there. After exhausting all other conversation points, Ron said, "Have you, er, had time to think about the joke shop? Things are starting to open again, and I thought —”

George's expression darkened. "No. I haven’t. I won’t be."

Ron stared at him for a moment, but decided to plough on regardless. “Come on, mate, you say that now, but maybe in a few months, when you’re feeling better. When things have —”

"I said no," George said, and he stood up. "I think you should go."

Ron also got to his feet, staring at his brother, shocked by George’s sudden mood change. "I didn't mean to… we all miss him, you know."

But George said no more, and Ron left the flat feeling rather defeated. 

"By the look on your face, it went wonderfully," Harry said when he returned home a few moments later.

"He was alright until I brought up the shop," Ron groaned, collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table opposite Harry. "Maybe I suggested it too soon. Perhaps I should have warmed him up a bit more."

"Not sure it would have made a difference based on what Bill said the other day," Harry said comfortingly. "But that's okay. He'll come around eventually."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I hope so. Because he did say he never planned on opening it again, and… I don’t know if that will be good for anyone, if he means it."

“He doesn’t mean it,” Harry said. 

Ron shrugged. He hoped George didn’t. 

"Listen," Harry said, and he looked around the room as if looking for eavesdroppers. Ron wondered if he was looking out for Ginny. "I've been thinking… it’s a bit crowded here at the moment. Too many people —”

“Less than usual,” Ron said, eyeing Harry suspiciously. He didn’t like where this was going. 

“Well, I just think that I may have outstayed my welcome.”

“Never!” Ron said. “You’re not planning on taking off again, are you? Because —”

“No, not taking off, but moving out as such,” Harry said. “Into my own place, have my own space… everyone would be welcome, of course, but it’d be mine.”

"Where to?" Ron asked.

"Grimmauld Place," Harry said, shrugging. "It's mine, isn't it? May as well make use of it." He shrugged again. "You don't think… your mum will mind, do you?"

"Well, yeah, probably,” Ron said. “But she doesn’t really have a choice, does she?” A thought then popped into his head. "Hey, how would you feel about having a housemate?”

"You mean you?" Harry asked. 

Ron nodded. "Er, if you don't mind? I can't stay here forever, and when Hermione comes back, she'll probably move back in with her parents, so I'll appreciate the company of someone who isn’t my parents."

Harry grinned. "I didn't plan on it, but now that you mention it, it seems like a fantastic idea. Not sure why I didn't think of it!"

Ron returned his grin. "Great! When are you planning on moving?"

"This weekend," Harry said. "Think you can pack in a few days?"

Ron patted his pocket where his wand was. "No problem! This will be fun, won’t it? You and me, living together. Will be like the good old days at Hogwarts.”

"What will be?" Arthur had just entered the kitchen, home from work by mid-afternoon. It wasn't the first time. His office was quieter than usual, and he'd often made comments about retiring, because he didn’t seem needed anymore.  

"Oh…" Ron looked at his dad. "Harry and I… we'll be moving out of here in a few days. To Grimmauld Place."

"Ah!" Arthur smiled. "That sounds like a very good idea, actually. Though, to Grimmauld Place?” He looked between them, rather alarmed. “I would have thought —”

“I already own it, don’t I?’ Harry said. “I know it’s not the most welcoming of places, but Sirius left it for me, and… we can decorate it.”

“And get used to living with screaming portraits…” Ron added, feeling slightly dejected now that he remembered the portrait of Sirius’ mother. 

Harry laughed. “Yeah, that too.”

Arthur smiled again. “Well, sounds like a good idea, boys. Though, I do suggest you tell your mother, Ron. Sooner, rather than later. No more secrets, remember.”

“Oh… yeah,” Ron said, his mood falling even more. 

“Cheer up, mate,” Harry said. “It’s not like she’d be expecting you to live here forever. You were always going to move out eventually. So why not now?”

"Yeah, I guess." Though, Ron couldn't help the wave of guilt he felt about telling his mother. She’d be sad to see him go, but it was the right call now that he thought about it. As much as he loved the Burrow — it had been his home his whole life — he was of age, and he had to start making a life for himself somehow. Soon, he'd have his own money, and he'd spent most of his last seven years living with Harry and it had been simple. Granted, they'd never had to buy food for themselves before, but that couldn't be too hard, surely. 

"Should be fun," Harry said, disrupting Ron's thoughts. "You and me, then when they want to, Hermione and Ginny… I'm looking forward to it."

When Harry put it like that, so was Ron. When Hermione came back, there'd be less hiding when it was just Harry around. He wouldn't be eying them suspiciously, wondering just what had occurred between them. Nor would Ron have to feel uncomfortable about it either. Harry would be cool about it.

"Now to tell Mum," Ron muttered.

…

Oddly, breaking the news that he was leaving home in a few days didn't seem to bother Molly nearly as much as Ron thought it might have. In fact, she was rather unperturbed when he told her that it momentarily left Ron speechless. He'd planned a whole defence as to why he needed to, which he now didn't have to use, and he had no idea what to say to her.

"I will be sad, of course," Molly said. "And the two of you will be welcome to come round for dinner whenever you feel like it. But I understand that you wish for your own space. All my children said the same thing at your age, and I know I haven’t been the easiest to live with at the moment."

"It’s not that, Mum, it’s… er… we'll come ‘round as much as we can," Ron promised, looking at an equally perplexed Harry. "Promise. No idea how to cook. You, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No idea at all."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The two of you are hopeless. Don't worry, Mum, they'll be crawling back here once their food runs out."

Ginny had not taken the news that Harry was leaving once again very well. Despite Harry and Ron's assurances that she was welcome at Grimmauld Place as often as she wanted, she'd been annoyed that Harry hadn't consulted her once again. 

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Ron said to her when she expressed her frustration at Harry's evasiveness, "Hermione doesn't even know at all yet."

That had not cheered her up at all. "Not the same," she scowled. "Honestly, I always thought you were the most useless with women, but Harry is very much proving me wrong at the moment. At least you can admit your feelings towards Hermione. At least she knows how you feel about her."

Ron said nothing, for talking about Harry and Ginny's relationship still made him uncomfortable. After a moment, he patted her on the back. "He loves you," he assured her. "He's just…"

"Harry," Ginny sighed. And she walked away. 

Ron watched her for a moment, seeing how dejected she seemed, and decided that he needed to get past his own discomfort and talk to Harry about his sister. This couldn't keep going on. 

Ron still didn’t know where their relationship stood, and it seemed that Ginny didn’t either. He understood that Harry was going through a lot, but for the most part, he was his normal self around Ron again, so it was no longer an excuse to be different with Ginny. She’d spent some time with him at Grimmauld Place alone, which now bothered Ron. What was Harry doing?

The opportunity to confront Harry arose that same night, when Harry came into his room just after Ron had decided to go to bed. 

"Mind if I sleep in here?" he asked, drawing the camp bed he’d spent many nights in, in the past, out from the corner. 

Ron stared at him. "Why?"

Harry flushed. "Ginny… kicked me out."

"Why?" Ron asked again, keeping his tone even. 

Harry shrugged. "Something about not talking to her about deciding to leave… apparently I was supposed to... I dunno."

Ron was no expert in relationships, and he'd freely admit that to anyone who’d ask, but even he had to admit that Harry was more clueless than he was. There was the whole Cho incident a few years ago where he just hadn't got it, and now this.  

Ron sat up in his bed, and, summoning the bit of Molly Weasly that was in him, looked at Harry so sternly that Harry sat up immediately on the camp bed and asked, "What?"

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Seemingly startled by Ron’s tone, Harry stammered. “I… well… I think so.”

“Why don’t you know?” Ron asked. 

“Well, we haven’t really discussed it really. There’s not really been a good time —”

“But you’ve slept with her, haven’t you?” Ron asked, feeling his face go red at just asking about his sister in that position. “And you’ve spent nights with her, acted like she’s your girlfriend, haven’t you?”

Harry said nothing, staring at Ron with a rather bewildered expression. Apparently he’d expected to come to Ron’s room to perhaps have a laugh at how ridiculous Ginny was being. 

"I don't know much, but one thing I have learnt," Ron said when Harry didn’t respond, "is you've got to talk to her. Is she your girlfriend, or just a fling, or what?" he asked again.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Harry said more confidently this time. He looked away from Ron. “But I suppose I’ve not been the best boyfriend.”

Ron watched him for a moment and then said, "Did you ever read that book I gave you?"

"Didn't really have the time with all the Horcrux hunting," Harry said.

Ron scowled at the tone. "Well, you should. It's really quite useful. It has lots of answers, one being you've got to talk to her. You've got to let her know you care." Ron sighed. He really didn't want to ask, but Harry hadn’t denied that they’d had sex, so what difference did it make now? "Do you love her?"

"Yes."

Ron liked Harry's definitive answer. He nodded. "Then tell her."

"But… how?" Harry stared blankly at Ron. 

"Say the words."

"But… how? I love her, but my mind at the moment is… still not great, and if I tell her, and something goes wrong, then she’s once again left out —"

"Well…” Ron said thoughtfully, “she’s my little sister, but she’s still capable of looking after herself. She wants to be with you, and she loves you — you know that — so let her decide. Just tell her how you feel and she can decide.”

“Who said it first — you or Hermione?” Harry asked.

Ron flushed. “Hermione, but —”

Harry snorted. “Nice advice, mate.”

Ron glowered, still not satisfied that Harry wasn’t taking this seriously. “You’ve just got to stop messing my sister around, alright? She’s upset and confused, and she just wants to know where she stands with you. One moment you’re there, then the next, you’re not. Ignore my advice if you want — Merlin knows I’m no expert — but don’t do what I did. Don’t leave it for seven years. Sort it out now.”

Harry stared at Ron for a moment and then nodded. "Alright. Fine. I just don’t know how to go about it.”

“Tell her how you feel.”

Harry nodded again. "Okay. Tomorrow. I'll tell her tomorrow. I love you. I can say those words, can't I?"

"Sure you can," Ron said. "You just did."

"Hm. Girls. Women. Why do they have to be so complicated? I thought I would have figured it out by now… you seem to have."

Ron didn't have an answer for that. Once upon a time, he'd asked the very same question to himself. But now, Harry was right, he had figured it out.

Somehow.

Harry laid down on the bed; Ron did the same. Then, as a last thought before he drifted to sleep, he said, "It becomes far less complicated once you establish where you stand with one another. Trust me on that one, too. It took me seven bloody years to figure that out."

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 7

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow ‘whenihaveyou.romione’ on IG for extra stuff. 

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Chapter 7

Hermione set the tiny bag down on Ron's bed, then looked up at him and smiled. He had once been used to seeing that bag every day, but it had been some time since she'd gotten it out again. But now was the perfect time. 

"All packed," she said quietly. "I can't believe it…"

"Neither can I, really," Ron said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. 

"In two days, I'll hopefully be… with them again." Her voice cracked at the end and Ron hugged her tighter. He knew what she was thinking — she had expressed it to him over and over again since finding out the Ministry knew of her parents’ location. She was scared. What would it be like seeing them when they didn't know who she was? What would happen if she couldn't reverse the memory charm she'd placed on them? So many thoughts had run through her mind, came out in bouts of worry that she had unloaded onto Ron countless times over the past two weeks.

His assurances that she could do it, that he had complete faith in her, seemed to last only for short periods of time before her worry started all over again. 

But now, as they stood in his room, that blasted beaded bag between them, filled with a month's worth of belongings, it seemed that what little resolve she had, had completely abandoned her. 

Pulling away, she stared up at him with blank eyes. 

"You will be with them again," he said. "Even if it takes you some time to figure it out, you'll still be able to see them, be with them…" He hesitated, and her eyes widened, completely misreading his expression. 

"What?" she asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Completely irrelevant in these circumstances." He gripped her tightly, smiling.

"Ron… if there's something you think I've missed, please, tell me. I… need to know."

Ron shook his head again, unable to contain the small smile that had formed. It seemed so stupid to be thinking about it.

“Ron…”

 "It's not that. I was just thinking… when you fix their memories — yes, you will fix them," he said when she opened her mouth to protest, "what will they think of me? I mean, I know they know me as your friend, but will they think…"

It hadn't been his intention, but his concern over what seemed a trivial matter in the circumstances appeared to amuse her and take her mind — at least briefly — off the bigger matters. 

She laughed. "They'll love you, I'm sure of it," she said. "Anyway, I don't think that's going to be the first thing I tell them… if that's alright."

"Well, I know that, Hermione," Ron said. "They'll obviously want to know how they're suddenly in another country and with no memory of being there. But I do want them to like me."

Hermione laughed again, reaching up to kiss him. "They will," she promised him. 

Ron was about to kiss her again when Harry appeared at the door, clutching three envelopes. They turned to him, Ron feeling momentarily put out that they'd been interrupted. But then he saw that Harry was holding the letters out for them.

"For us," he said, looking slightly concerned, and he came into the room. 

They were addressed to each of them with the official Ministry seal on the front. 

All three of them sharing a look, they tore into the letters and began reading. Ron felt himself pale.

Dear Mr Ronald Weasley,

The Minister for Magic requests your presence in his office at one o'clock on the twenty-first of June to discuss with you your future plans. He will be expecting you.

Loretta Fieldwake,

Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic

Ron read the letter again, then a third time, before he looked up at Harry and Hermione. By the look on their faces, they'd received the exact same thing.

"What do you think it's about?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"I'm not sure, but it has to be good, right?" Hermione said. "I mean…" She looked down at the letter again. "It's Kingsley. And your dad and Percy work at the Ministry still, so I’m sure they would have heard something if it was bad.”

"Yeah, I suppose," Ron said. Hermione was right. It had to be something good. Bad things were always dealt with quicker than good things. 

"That's tomorrow," Hermione then said. "A day before we leave."

Ron could see the sudden concern in her eyes and shook his head. "Don't worry about that," he said. "It'll be nothing."

Ron wasn't sure how, but it seemed that word that the Minister for Magic had requested to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione got out around the house without any of them saying anything (Ron could only assume his dad had said something), and for the next few hours, there was much discussion over what it was about.

"You'll of course be getting rewarded in some way," Molly said with a definitive nod. "I can imagine Kingsley being very pleased with the three of you." An expression of pride crossed her face. 

"A reward?" Ron said, turning to Hermione and Harry. "What kind of reward. Gold?" He could do with a few Galleons, really.

But they shrugged. 

"Hm," Arthur said, "I suppose a reward would be in order, but perhaps he simply wants to chat. What did the letter say again?"

"That he wants to discuss our future plans," Hermione said. Her eyes widened, and Ron recognised it as an idea suddenly popping into her head. "Maybe he wants to offer us jobs at the Ministry?"

"Jobs?" Ron and Harry said together.

Hermione nodded, then shrugged. "I mean, he could…"

"I doubt it," Ron said. "What good are we going to be? We've only completed six years of schooling. I don't fancy a job of carrying coffee around to everyone. Can you imagine Percy's demands, or the embarrassment…"

There was much more discussion on the topic for the remainder of the day, much more speculation over what Kingsley would want to discuss with them. Ron genuinely had no idea, but the idea of money seemed highly appealing to him. He hated to think what state the Weasley Gringotts vault was in since the war. Worse than ever, he could imagine. 

One good thing this news had brought them was a calmer Molly who wasn’t passive aggressively worrying over Australia. She was so pleased that the Minister wished to personally talk to her son (even though it was Kingsley) that the idea of him going off to Australia in less than two days seemed insignificant now. For the first time in two weeks, Ron wasn't asked a single question about it.

The rest of the day went by slowly, with Ron pondering over what Kingsley wanted. That, along with his nerves regarding going to Australia, he didn't sleep well at all. He tossed, he turned, and despite the fact that Hermione sleeping beside him had brought him nothing but comfort since the first day she slept there, he just couldn't get comfortable. 

"Ron," Hermione said when the clock ticked over to two o'clock in the morning. "Are you alright?"

"...yeah," Ron said after a moment. "It's just everything going on. I can't stop thinking about it."

Hermione reached out, her arm sliding across his middle. "It'll be okay," she said softly. She fell back asleep a moment later, her arm still around him.

Despite still not being able to fall asleep, Ron laid where he was, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. Just what exactly did the Minister for Magic want to see them for? Logically he knew it wasn't going to be anything bad, but for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that the news wasn't going to be as welcome as everyone might have hoped.

…

The following morning ticked by very slowly. Molly managed to corner them in the early hours and had them completing chores, and when they tried to escape the Burrow for the nearby fields, Arthur wished to have an in depth discussion with Harry and Hermione about particular Muggle artefacts Ron couldn’t remember the name of. 

By the time they were done explaining it to him, it was almost time to leave for the Ministry. 

“Er…” Ron said, “how are we planning on getting there?”

The three of them looked at one another. It was a thought that had crossed none of their minds between receiving the letter and that moment. Hermione disappeared, returning moments later with the letter in her hand. She scanned it, shaking her head. “It doesn’t say.”

“Maybe Dad might know,” Ron suggested. 

“We should probably use the visitor’s entrance,” Harry said. 

It seemed a bit odd to Ron that they’d be invited to attend a meeting with the Minister, but not given any instructions on how to actually enter the Ministry. A horrible feeling hit him then — what if this was some kind of joke Percy had been pulling, and they weren’t actually being invited at all? But then he remembered Percy lacked a sense of humour and felt slightly better. 

“What about the fireplace?” Hermione said. She looked at Ron. “It’s connected, and your dad and Percy use it to get to work…”

“Is that intruding?” Harry asked. 

“I’ll go and ask Dad,” Ron said. He found his dad in the back shed engrossed in whatever it was he’d been asking Harry and Hermione to explain. Ron personally hated this place — almost as much as his mother did. He really didn’t see the usefulness of most of it and was constantly amazed that both Harry and Hermione had spent their first eleven years of life, plus their summers, surrounded by and using all of this stuff. Honestly, it still baffled him even today how resourceful Muggles were considering they didn’t have magic.

“Er, Dad?” he said, staring at what he did know was a doormat. 

Arthur jumped, startled by Ron’s sudden appearance. “Oh, Ron,” he said, “what are you doing here?”

“We have that meeting with Kingsley in a moment,” Ron said, “and we’ve realised we have no idea how he’s expecting us to arrive. Is the, um, fireplace acceptable?”

“Of course!” Arthur said, his attention already back on the object that had captured his attention. “Go right ahead. You can even Floo straight into his office.”

“What?”

Arthur looked up, frowning. “Were you not informed? Yes, Kingsley is expecting you to come directly to his office. Our fireplace is connected directly to the Minister for Magic’s private office. He’s expecting you.”

Had he not been so surprised by that information, Ron might have felt honoured. He went back to tell Harry and Hermione (who were equally as surprised) and then they were on their way. 

Even more of a surprise, was finding Neville on the other side already sitting in a large armchair, a cup of tea in hand. 

Seeing them, he stood up and set his tea on a table in front of him and hugged them each in turn. “I didn’t know you were coming, too!” he said brightly. “Kingsley did say there were others but he never specified…” He indicated three other armchairs. “I suppose I should have guessed.”

“Do you know what this is about, Neville?” Ron asked, taking the armchair beside him. Hermione sat on his other side, and Harry on the end.

Neville shook his head. “No idea, but Kingsley looked delighted when he saw me. Said he was glad to see that I’d come…” A smile fell across him. “The Minister… requesting to see me!”

“Well, if anyone deserves that, Neville, it’s you,” Ron said, and Neville’s smile grew just as the door to the Minister’s office opened. In stepped Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

“Ah, fantastic!” he said, “you’re here.” And he conjured a fifth chair and sat opposite them. Another wave of his wand and three more cups of tea appeared. 

Everyone stared, waiting for him to continue. Kingsley beamed. 

“I have a very exciting offer to make all four of you,” he said. “I’ve been talking with a lot of people, and after what has happened over the past years, it’s become very obvious that our Auror department is very much small in numbers compared to what we need.”

No one said anything, but continued to stare at Kingsley, waiting. 

“Now, under usual circumstances, the requirements for becoming an Auror include Outstanding NEWT results in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms and Transfiguration, all of which none of you have achieved.”

Ron felt his heart sink. For a moment, he’d thought that maybe —

“However,” Kingsley continued. He had such a wide smile now it was almost pathetic. “However, I am a firm believer in practical experience being the best experience. And the four of you have shown absolute outstanding results in that area. Not only that, but wonderful leadership skills, an ability to perform in high-stress situations, not to mention you are each highly skilled witches and wizards that the Auror office desperately needs. So… as a reward for the role each of you played in the war, I am offering you all immediate entry into the Auror training program, if you so choose to accept.”

A stunned silence filled the office. Ron gaped at Kingsley, unsure how to even respond. An Auror? He was being offered a place in a program that was near impossible to get into, all because of what he’d done?

Kingsley continued. “However, there is just one requirement: I’ll need an answer by tomorrow evening of your decision. We need Aurors now and so getting you all into training immediately — next week — is ideal.” His eyes drifted to Hermione. “Of course, I am aware that you will be travelling as of tomorrow, so special consideration has been made. For the rest of you, though, I really will need an answer as soon as possible. It’s a once-off offer.”

This time, Ron’s heart really did plummet. All the way down into his stomach. Next week he’d be in Australia with Hermione. 

There was more silence, and then Hermione spoke. “Kingsley,” she said, “thank you for the offer, but… I don’t think I can accept. Even once I return.”

All eyes turned to her, and she blushed. “My plans, once returning from Australia, are to complete my seventh year at Hogwarts. It’s all but repaired now, and Professor McGonagall told me that she has full intention of opening the school in September again.”

Ron stared at her, completely taken aback. She’d not mentioned that intention to him once. In all the times they’d talked, she had not even made a hint that that was her plan. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was a little hurt that she’d not bothered to tell him. 

He looked away. 

Kingsley nodded. “I completely understand, Hermione.”

“I’d love to,” Harry said quickly. Like Ron, it had always been his desire to become an Auror. Unlike Ron, he hadn’t made a single promise to anyone to travel overseas with them. 

“Me too!” Neville said, looking dumbstruck that Kingsley seemed to think him worthy of even being considered for such an honour. 

Everyone looked at Ron. He looked back at Hermione, who suddenly appeared very guilty. He turned to Kingsley, feeling nothing but disappointment. He probably would have made a rubbish Auror anyway. “I… sorry, but I—”

“He’ll have to think about it and get back to you tomorrow!” Hermione said quickly. 

Ron closed his mouth, but didn’t look at Hermione again.

Kingsley nodded once more and smiled. “Wonderful. Well, Harry and Neville, you’ll receive owls within three days detailing what you’ll need to do. Hermione, I wish you luck regarding your parents and your return to Hogwarts. And Ron, I hope to see you here, too. We could very much use someone like you working for us.”

Ron winced. Why couldn’t Kingsley have offered them this after they got back? 

They all went home through the fireplace again, Ron going first. He couldn’t stand being in the same room as Harry and Neville, who were already discussing things with Kingsley. And he didn’t wait for Hermione. He couldn’t blame her, of course, but he knew exactly why she had prevented him from telling Kingsley no, and he wasn’t going to do it. He’d made a promise to her, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to break it. 

Landing back at the Burrow, he emerged from the fireplace and marched straight past his expectant mother and to the stairs. A moment later he heard Hermione arrive. 

“What happened, dear?” Molly asked her. 

“Kingsley… he… sorry, Molly,” she said. “I’ve got to go and talk to Ron before he makes a really stupid decision.”

Ron was sitting on his bed when Hermione caught him. He looked up at her, and said immediately, “You’re more important.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ron,” Hermione said, sitting beside him. “This is your dream job.”

Ron shook his head. “I made a promise to you. I said I’d go with you, and I am. I don’t care… I can find another job one day. Maybe I’ll help George with his shop.”

“Ron…” Hermione began. “Ron, I saw your face when you realised. You were gutted. I know this is what you’ve always hoped for. What you’ve always wanted. Don’t worry about me. I… I can do this by myself.”

Ron shook his head again. 

She moved closer to him, taking his hands. “I can’t go away with you knowing that one day you’ll end up resenting me for it.”

“I won’t resent you,” Ron said. “I could never…”

“You need to accept the offer,” Hermione said, her voice gentle, but firm. “And you know you do. You’ll forever regret it if you don’t.”

Ron swallowed, turning his face towards hers. “Like how you’ll regret it if you don’t go back to Hogwarts?”

Hermione flushed. “I… I was going to tell you, Ron. Once we got back…”

He wrenched his hands away from hers and she looked at him, hurt. “It’s a pretty big decision to make. I thought we were in this together?”

“Ron…”

Ron buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wasn’t expecting this at all.”

“No one was,” Hermione said. “But things have changed now, and this is the opportunity of a lifetime for you. I can’t and won’t stand in your way. Not when I can see how much you really want it.”

“But I love you, Hermione!”

She grabbed his hands again. “And you can continue to love me even while we’re apart. This isn’t going to change the way we feel about each other. I’ve got to do what I need to, and so do you. I would love to have you there with me, but it seems it’s not meant to be.”

Ron said nothing. He knew she was right. He would end up resenting her, or the whole situation, down the track. She knew it, he knew it… but the thought of abandoning her…

He looked up at her again, and she smiled. “Accept it,” she said. “And when I get back, I want to hear all about how wonderful training as an Auror is.”

There was a long pause, where neither of them spoke. They just sat there, hand in hand, knowing what needed to be done.

Eventually, Ron looked at her and sighed. “I’m going to miss you,” he said. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Hermione threw her arms around him. “I’m going to miss you, too,” she said, and he heard her voice crack ever so slightly. She pulled away, and Ron knew that he had to tell her. If he wasn’t going to see her for a month or more, then she could at least leave knowing just how much he loved her, no matter how ridiculous it might sound.

“Hermione,” he said, “I’m still trying to work out how the hell I feel about you.”

She pulled away, worried, and he realised immediately how that must have sounded to her. 

He shook his head. “By that, I mean I don’t understand how it’s possible for me to love you as much as I do after such a short amount of time. But I understand enough to know that that is how I feel. I once thought I might have fancied you, then I knew I did. Then I realised I loved you. But I sure as hell didn’t know this was how I could feel. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Hermione kissed him. When she pulled away, she was smiling. “Sometimes,” she said, “you speak as if you think you’re the only one to feel these things.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue that he never expected her to feel so deeply about him, but she silenced him by another kiss. 

“I’m capable of those feelings too, Ron, and I feel them for you. I love you a lot. You know that, don’t you?”

Ron said nothing. He couldn’t. Why was she so incredible? 

“I’ve felt this way for a long time, I just never knew how to tell you. How to ask you.” She paused, thoughtful. “Maybe I do need to ask you.”

“Ask me what?” Ron asked. 

“We haven’t even been on a proper date,” she said. 

“No… I guess we haven’t…”

She beamed. “If tonight is our last night together for a while, let’s make the most of it. Let’s go out, just the two of us. On a date.”

Ron stared at her for a moment, and then smiled. 

“I think you’ll like the cinema,” she said.

“The what?”

“A cinema. A theatre. Where people go to watch films.” Hermione nodded, as if the decision had been made. “Leave it to me; I’ll organise it. A date tonight?”

Ron could only nod. He kissed her hard on the mouth. “Merlin, I love you, Hermione,” he said after a moment. “Yes, a date. Our first date.”

And they both laughed, because it almost seemed like they had done a lot of things backwards if tonight was going to be their first date. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 2

Read on Fanfiction or ao3 if you’d prefer! 

Be sure to check out this story’s IG account (without spaces) ‘whenihaveyou . romione’

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Chapter 2

Ginny had woken the next morning in a horrendous mood, to the point that she was snapping at anyone and everyone who dared cross her path. It was obvious that Harry’s absence was the cause, but whenever someone — Ron, mostly — tried mentioning this, they got their head bitten off and were one word away from being hexed into next week. 

It seemed that Hermione was the only one who could talk to her calmly, and by midday, the pair had agreed to try and find Harry. Like Ron, Hermione and Ginny seemed to think that he would have gone to Grimmauld Place, the only other home he really had, and were going to check there first. 

“I really think you should give him a few days,” Ron said to Hermione as she prepared to leave. They stood in the Burrow’s garden, out of sight from any windows with their prying eyes. “He was pretty mad yesterday.”

“I know,” Hermione said, frowning. “I tried to suggest that, but Ginny needs him, I think. She’s worried for him. I think she needs to know, regardless of how he responds, where she stands. She thought they were together, but now he’s taken off...”

“Be careful,” Ron warned. 

Hermione smiled up at him, nodding. “I will. I mean, it’s Harry. The worst he’ll do is yell at us to leave, and we’ll leave. Then once he's calmed down, he'll come and find us, and we'll be here." 

Ron reached for her hand, squeezing it, just as Ginny rounded the corner. 

"You two done?" she snapped, hardly looking at them. "We should probably get going."

"Good luck," Ron said as Hermione passed him to go to Ginny. 

Hermione's absence was an unexpected blessing for Ron, as it gave him time to think more clearly about how he was going to approach everything with her tonight. It was a pleasant distraction from everything else happening, but as each hour wore on, he couldn't control the gradual nerves that were creeping up on him. Oh, how he wanted to get it right! 

Telling anyone was the last thing he wanted to do, but when it became apparent he was fairly clueless on the subject of sex, he decided he needed to talk to someone, and that someone was going to be Bill. Even if everyone wasn’t feeling the strain of war, even if Fred was still alive and things were normal, he probably would have Floo’d to Shell Cottage before he talked to any of his other siblings. Percy would give far too practical advice, under normal circumstances George would have laughed at him endlessly, and Charlie… well, Ron was pretty confident that Charlie's experience with women was even less than his own, so that wouldn't have been useful at all. 

So Bill it was. 

Once Hermione and Ginny had gone, he found his eldest brother in the kitchen with Fleur, the two drying dishes by hand — something many of them had found useful to pass the long days. 

For a moment, he stood there watching the pair. Bill looked up and smiled. "Anything we can help you with, Ron?" he asked.

"Er… yes. Can I ask you something?" Ron looked nervously at Fleur, then turned back to his brother. "Alone?"

Bill and Fleur shared a look, and Fleur nodded. Bill set down the plate he'd been drying and followed Ron into the living room, which was thankfully deserted. 

"What's up?" Bill asked, stopping just in front of Arthur's favourite armchair. 

Ron swallowed, his heart quickening. 

Misreading his expression, Bill said, "Is Harry alright? Hermione?"

Ron nodded. "As far as I know. No, it's not that. It's… last night, Hermione came to my room and…"

Bill raised an eyebrow, and Ron went extremely red. 

"Nothing out of the ordinary from what I hear," Bill said, almost sounding amused. 

"No, but, last night, she, er, suggested we…" Ron really wished he'd not even bothered asking now. It sounded so stupid.

"Right…" Bill said, seeming to catch on. "And you're not wanting to?" 

Ron collapsed onto the armchair, running his hands over his face. "I want to, but I've got no idea what I'm doing, and knowing me, I'm going to do something wrong and I don't want to do that and I just… need help."

"Help?" Bill asked, sounding startled. "I'm not sure I can —"

"Advice. Help. Whatever you want to call it!" Ron said. He looked up at his brother, feeling suddenly desperate. "How do I not mess it up? I really like her — I love her — and I'm worried her expectations are a little too high and I… what do I do?"

"Well, firstly," Bill said, sitting on the arm of the armchair, "calm down."

Ron steadied his breathing. Or, tried to. 

"Secondly, I'm sure it's going to be just fine. Haven't you had a girlfriend before? I  just assumed you already had experience in that area."

"It's not the same," Ron said quickly. "Lavender and I never… we never got that far.” He felt his ears burning. “Anyway, Hermione is far more special, and I want to make it as such.”

"Okay," Bill said, nodding. He clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Well, the best advice I can give you is to relax, be yourself, and try to not panic. Easier said than done, I know. For the record — and you know her better than I do so I may be wrong — Hermione doesn’t strike me as someone shallow. I think if she’s brought it up, it’s because she’s interested in you, no expectations included.”

Ron paled, suddenly feeling ill. He hoped Bill was right. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Just try not to dwell on it too much. That’s probably the worst thing you can do. Sex isn’t too daunting after awhile.” 

“Kissing is one thing,” Ron said, “but this will completely ruin our friendship.”

“I was under the impression you wanted more than friendship with her,” Bill said.

“I do! I just meant… you know… there’s no coming back from this.”

Bill shrugged, and then to Ron’s surprise, chuckled. 

“What’s so funny?” Ron demanded, thinking the situation was anything but funny. 

“Nothing.” Bill shook his head, but a smile remained. “Sometimes I just forget that even Ginny is basically of age. You’re all growing up — my little brothers and sister.” He stood. “Is that all, or are you after some practical tips…”

“No!” Ron said quickly. “But, er… thanks. I’ll just try and… relax and not think about it.”

That proved more difficult than ever as the day wore on. The closer the day came to ending, the more he thought about it until it all but consumed him. His emotions ebbed and flowed from excitement to nerves to feeling absolutely sick, and he was glad Hermione and Ginny had yet to return. It was the longest he’d been away from Hermione in months, but he thought even one touch from her right now might have tipped him over the edge. 

It was nearing dinner time when she and Ginny finally returned. They came via the kitchen door while Ron was helping his brothers with preparing the food for that night’s dinner. Ginny marched through the door first, tears streaming down her face. She said nothing as she walked past them and straight up the stairs. A moment later, they heard her bedroom door slam closed. 

Hermione entered the kitchen looking rather upset. She cast a worried glance in the direction Ginny had disappeared in, and then gave a sad smile to Ron. 

“You found him?” he asked.

She nodded, looking over at his brothers. “He was where we thought he’d be, and he behaved the way we expected. He’s a mess, Ron, and…” She looked once again to where Ginny had gone, “he was quite horrible to her, actually.”

In another day and time, Ron might have felt the urge to go over and tell Harry to pull his head in and stop treating his sister like she didn’t understand, but he realised Ginny wasn’t the issue. Harry was the issue. 

“I told her he just needed to be left alone.”

“I know,” Hermione said sadly. “But I do think he might appreciate his best friend coming to see him. Maybe after dinner tonight you could —”

“Tonight?” Ron asked, unable to hide his disappointment. “But I thought…” 

“I know,” Hermione said again, her expression now one of guilt. “But I just think… you didn’t see him, Ron. There was nothing I could do or say. Every time I tried, he just snapped, or he broke down. He yelled, he screamed, he cried, and we let him, until it became too much for Ginny and we left. But he listens to you, and I think… we have plenty more opportunities to…” she lowered her voice, “be together. Harry needs you now.”

To Ron’s surprise, his initial disappointment turned to relief. That gave him another night to prepare. He nodded. “I’ll go after dinner, then.”

Hermione smiled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him, but pulled back immediately as his parents entered the kitchen in that moment. If she’d been suspicious the night before, Ron was certain his mother had worked it out now based on the shocked way she was staring at him and Hermione. 

Ron almost said something to her — he’d even opened his mouth —  but a warning look from his dad had him closing it again. 

“Did you and Ginny find Harry, dear?” Molly asked Hermione, her tone cool. 

“Um… yes,” Hermione said. 

“And how is he? Is he planning on coming home soon?” Molly began busying herself with waving her wand to spread the plates across the table. 

“I… I think he needs some time,” Hermione said. “Just to himself. Ron is going over this evening to see him.”

This seemed to cheer his mother up significantly, because she gave the first genuine smile she had in almost two weeks. “That’s wonderful, Ron. I think he would really appreciate a friend right now.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I’ll… I’ll talk to him.” 

“If it’s alright, I might go and shower before dinner. I feel like I need to freshen up.” Hermione cast a nervous glance over at Molly, who had turned her attention to some pot plants that apparently needed watering. 

Ron nodded encouragingly, assuring her not to worry. His mum liked Hermione, and Ron was certain that under different circumstances, she would have been pleased to know about them. But her actions towards him after the war — her coolness, her reluctance to speak to him more than necessary since learning he’d been out finding Horcruxes — told him that this would just be another excuse to go off at him and gripe at him, and that was the last thing he wanted.  

Once Hermione had disappeared, it took Molly all of three seconds to round on Ron. “I did wonder,” she said stiffly. “I always thought… would have been nice to have been told… but surely, Ronald, right now is not an appropriate time to be… to be… you have a brother who is... gone, another who is refusing to come home, a best friend who could really use a shoulder to cry on, and —”

“And a girlfriend who happens to need me, too,” Ron said, his voice as stiff as his mother’s. He didn’t want to get into an argument with her, but he wasn’t going to stand back while she berated him for feeling some kind of happiness right now. All of his brothers had smiled at least once in the past few days. She just hadn’t seen them. “And who I happen to need as well,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Come on, dear,” Arthur said calmly. “Leave the boys to dinner. They’ve got it under control.”

Although she looked far from happy, Molly obliged and left. 

“Well, cat’s out of the bag now,” Bill said. “At least you don’t have to keep it a secret anymore. If you ask me, she took it fairly well. Give her a month. She’ll be marrying the two of you off soon.”

Ron didn’t say anything to that, but returned to setting charms on all the vegetables and their respective utensils. He very much doubted it would take just one month to recover. He’d been distracting himself from the pain by busying himself, but it was all still there, pushed away and bottled up somewhere. A month to get over seeing his own brother die? He doubted it. 

…

Ron Floo’d to Grimmauld Place later that evening. Hermione had suggested it based on her own experience. If he was already in the house, Harry would be less likely to turn him away. 

He found Harry upstairs, lying on the bed he’d slept on during the occasions they’d stayed here. He was a bigger mess than Hermione had given him credit for. His eyes were swollen and red, his hair more dishevelled than usual, and it looked like he hadn’t slept since Ron had seen him yesterday morning. 

Pity.That’s what he felt for Harry in that moment. He did not envy his best mate in the slightest. 

Without a word, he sat on the edge of the bed. Harry didn’t tell him to go away, which was a good sign, but he didn’t speak either. Ron counted the minutes on his watch; twenty-two minutes they sat together in silence until he could no longer take it. 

“If you’re wondering, Ginny’s going to be alright. She was upset, but she understands.”

Harry said nothing. 

“And Hermione’s okay, too. She’s worried about you. We both are.”

Again, silence. 

Ron fiddled with a loose thread on the bed spread. He looked at Harry over and over, hoping there’d be some kind of response, but he got nothing. 

“Listen, mate, I just want to know if you’re alright. That’s all. And I’m here to talk if you want that. If not, then that’s fine, but I’m not leaving until I know you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” Harry mumbled. “You can go.”

“Not until I know you’re alright,” Ron repeated. “For the record, those journalists you went off at yesterday, they deserved it. No one thinks you did anything wrong. You told them repeatedly to leave you alone.”

“Ginny and Hermione didn’t deserve it, though, did they?” Harry said. 

“No, but… they’ll be okay.”

For the first time, Harry looked at Ron. There was pain there; a lot of pain that only time could heal. “I’m a mess.”

“Completely understandable,” Ron said. “I’d be more worried if you weren’t. I also don’t blame you for wanting to be on your own, really. I came at Hermione’s insistence.”

“Always sticking her nose in places,” Harry muttered bitterly, but before Ron could berate him for it, he gave a weak smile. “But as usual, I'm glad she did.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I'm glad you're here, I suppose. But I think for at least the next few days, I need to be on my own. Your family is great, but I’m not really in the mood for playing ‘happy families’ at the moment.”

“It’s far from happy families, mate, but I get it,” Ron said. “Just do me a favour… let Ginny know where she stands with you. Even if it’s not what she wants to hear. She loves you — we all do — and she understands, really, she does. But...”

Harry groaned, as if Ron had just asked him to jump off a bridge. "I will talk to her when I figure some things out."

Ron didn’t bother to ask what Harry meant. Instead, he said, “The funerals start the day after tomorrow. Colin’s first, then Fred’s, then Lupin and Tonks, and then… it just goes on. You’ll be at them won’t you?”

Harry nodded. 

“Media has been ordered by Kingsley — who's acting as Minister as of this morning — to stay away unless they wish to face severe punishment, so there shouldn’t be an issue…”

“Yeah, I know.” Harry sat up a little straighter on the bed and looked at Ron. Another small smile crossed his dull expression. “Thanks for coming. Even if I have been a bit of a jerk lately. I love your sister and Hermione, but I really appreciate you being here. Someone who won’t try and tell me how to feel.”

“Ha! I barely know how I’m feeling at the moment let alone trying to figure out how someone else is. They mean well, though."

"I know."

There was another silence, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as the first. There was a sadness, though. One they couldn't escape. 

After a while, Ron said, "You should eat something. I should have brought something with me. I didn't realise how bad you actually were." 

"Thanks."

"At least change your clothes." Ron looked down at the unopened bag by the bed. Ginny had brought it with her, and it obviously hadn’t been received well. He picked it up and chucked it at Harry. "At least do that."

Harry caught the bag with half a smile and then threw it back, the bag hitting Ron in the shoulder. "Hermione has rubbed off on you with all your fussing."

"Well… she's right most of the time, you know, and I'm sure she's already told you the same thing when she was here."

"How'd you know that?"

Ron gave a sheepish smile. Then he stood up. "Speaking of, I should be heading back. I know the answer, but I'll ask anyway: you don't want to come back with me?"

"I just need some space," Harry said, shaking his head. "I think it will be better for everyone if I keep away for a few days. I'll… see you at the funeral."

Which one? Ron wanted to ask, but decided against it. Harry would be at all of them, he was certain. 

Leaving a slightly brighter Harry, Ron descended the stairs and made his way back to the fireplace. He picked up the pot of Floo Powder, scraping the remaining dregs — barely enough to get him back home. 

"If you plan on staying here for a while, you'll need more Floo Powder!" he called, but he was greeted with silence once more. 

The moment he stepped out of the Burrow fireplace, he was ambushed by Hermione grabbing his arms. "Was he okay? Has he eaten? What did you talk about?"

"He's fine," Ron said, holding her out at arm's length and smiling. "Miserable, but he's fine. No, he hadn't eaten, but I think I convinced him that finding some new clothes was a good idea. And we didn't talk about much, really."

"But he talked?"

"Yes, he talked. He just needs some space, Hermione. And not having people tell him every five minutes how to feel. He's coming to the funerals, but until then, we'll give him some time." 

He looked at her — dressed in her pyjamas, her hair tied back.To him, she'd never been more beautiful. A rush of love came over him in that moment, and he pulled her towards him. 

Another rush of emotion hit him, as well,  a wave of confidence flooding him and drowning out all the nerves he felt earlier. "Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Didn't we have plans tonight?"