Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title is taken from a song by Rosie Thomas of the same name. Please read and review whether you enjoy or not. Thanks.
"So, how 'bout it, mate? A bloody brilliant idea, I say." Ron Weasley beams his crooked smirk at his best friend, Harry Potter. Ron, having just explained his great plan for getting out of spending time with his girlfriend's father, leans back in his chair, taking a long sip of butterbeer. Setting his drink back down, he looks directly at me. "And you, Miss Granger, I'm sure you have an opinion on the matter, but I don't want to hear it. So keep it to yourself."
I shrug, displaying what was hopefully an innocent look. "I wasn't about to say anything." Although, that was a complete lie. His idea of faking illness had to be the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. We had graduated from Hogwarts just several weeks previously; you would think he would have learned something by now.
"And you better not. This discussion is between me and Harry. Its men talk."
Apparently, he has yet to learn anything. Ron's mind is not up to speed with the modern age. He still believes women to be inferior and subservient to their male counterparts. I open my mouth to object, but Ron stops me.
"Just keep it to yourself! Go back to reading Hogwarts, a History, or whatever that infernal book you're reading is called." He waits until I lower my nose into the book before turning to face Harry. Again, he inquires, "So, how 'bout it?"
Frowning at Ron, Harry removes his glasses and rubs his exhausted eyes. Sleep has not come easy for him since the Second War began. The ever-burdening weight of the world that Harry carries with him constantly continues to grow heavier and heavier with each passing day that Voldemort is not defeated. However, Harry soldiers on, taking on each day as if he is not the only one who can save us all. "Well, for one, I'm beginning to think that Hermione is right."
Instantly, at the mention of my name, Ron's smile dims. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that only a moron could possibly think of that plan as being bloody brilliant. You are not going to be able to fake an illness to get out of spending time with your girlfriend's father. I don't care if you say you've got something terminal, Luna is going to see right through you and you know it."
Ron starts to shake his head, an expression of disbelief coming over his face. "Okay, when did I get such unsupportive friends? Harry, you used to back me up on everything. Why not now?"
Harry sighs, replacing his glasses. "We're not little kids anymore. We're not immature eleven year olds clambering aboard the Hogwarts Express for the first time. It's time for us, you especially, to start taking on some responsibility. You shouldn't have agreed to go if you didn't want to spend time with Mr. Lovegood."
"Yes, but you don't understand, Harry. Luna is making me go with her and her father. They've got some surprise planned or something."
"All I know is that you're going to have to do things in life that you don't want to do. We all have to do things that we'd rather not have to do. So you might as well suck it up and take care of business." He pauses, taking a drink of his butterbeer while he glances around the Leaky Cauldron. "Besides, they may have front seat tickets to a Chudley Cannons match, for all you know."
Ron's eyes widen, the smile returning. "D'ya really think so?"
Harry nods. "Absolutely."
"She said I would really love what they were going to show me!" Ron jumps up, bumping the table, and nearly spilling all our drinks. "I'm going to give her a call. I'll be right back."
Harry and I watch him run out of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry turns to me, an eyebrow raised. "Uh, where exactly is he going?"
"I have no idea," I answer, laughing. "But you do realize that she's probably going to show him some newly found magical creature, right?"
Harry nods, offering a small smile. "Yes, I know. And I wish I could be there to see his face when he sees the Three-Eyed Carbuncle or whatever it is she'll be showing him."
"Yeah." I return the smile, closing my book and resting it on the table. "So, how are things?"
It seems weird to be asking my best friend how things are. But since we left Hogwarts, I'd been spending most of my time in the Muggle world, trying to decide where to go with my life. I'd thought of becoming a Healer, but my parents are really pushing for me to attend a Muggle University. So, I've taken a job at my parents' dental practice for now, living at home while I save up enough money for a place of my own. Harry's always telling me that I can join them at the Order headquarters; he says that there's a room waiting for me there.
Ron lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place as well. But he spends most his days working and living at Fred and George's shop in Hogsmeade. The twins have done so well with their joke shop that they have begun a franchise, making Ron the manager of their Hogsmeade location. Beyond working at his brothers' shop, I don't know what Ron intends to do with his life.
Harry, on the other hand, doesn't have a job. He wakes up every morning and begins training for the final battle. He spends the day lifting weights, running, flying, practicing every spell he's ever been taught. He sleeps each night with one eye open, waiting for the day that Voldemort comes to finish what he started many years ago.
It's been over two years since the Second War started; many of the wizarding world aren't sure that Voldemort is still alive. But the Order, and Harry, knows better. He's just waiting for the right time to strike. Dumbledore has made sure that when he strikes, Harry will be ready to fight.
"Things are… fine." Harry answers after a moment. He shakes his head, his messy raven hair becoming more unruly with each shake. "No, things aren't fine. They're far from fine."
I don't say anything. Harry needs a chance to vent once in a while. And it's been several weeks since I last saw him; I'm just happy to hear his voice.
"I'm just so tired, Hermione. I want to go to sleep at night and actually sleep. Not dream some psychotic dreams of death and dying and more death and more dying. I want to wake up in the morning and know that there is no longer a Voldemort running free. That Dementors and Death-Eaters aren't wreaking havoc on the world. I want to sleep and wake up rested. I want to rest.
"I want so many things, Hermione. I want to start my life. I want to start Auror training. I want to be able to date a nice girl and not have to worry about her becoming a target. I want to become what I'm supposed to become." He pauses. "And, most of all, I want you to move into the Cave with us."
The Cave. That's what Harry had begun calling the house Sirius had left him. The house looked like a cave the first summer we saw it, when all the old Black family artifacts still covered every inch of the walls. The house is slightly more cheery now, but Harry continues to call it by its dark moniker.
I tilt my head, looking into the green eyes that have become almost as famous as the scar above them. "Harry, we've talked about this. It's not something I want to do right now. Besides it doesn't seem like the appropriate thing to do."
It really didn't seem appropriate. We had just left Hogwarts. And though I hated to be separated from Harry and Ron, it was time to be on my own for a while. It was time to view the world as Hermione Granger, not as part of the trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It was time for me to find my place in the world without my two best friends.
Harry nods slowly, looking me over intently. He's started doing that often these days. Certainly he sees something; otherwise he wouldn't keep doing it. But what is he seeing? What is he looking for?
"Your hair looks nice today. Are you doing something different?" He asks, reaching out to touch a sleek brown straight strand.
"Yes, actually. I've tried this Muggle straightening product. Can you really tell a difference?"
"It looks gorgeous." He pauses. "Of course, you've always looked gorgeous to me."
I reach up, wrapping my hand around his own. "Thank you."
Harry nods, giving me a small smile. "I love you, Hermione Granger." He pulls his hand away from my hair, taking my hand with him.
Smiling widely, I immediately answer, "And I love you, Harry Potter. You're my best friend."
Harry's miniscule smile fades as he leans forward. "No, Hermione," He starts, his voice sounding much more serious than it had moments before. "I lo--"
A hand clamps down on Harry's shoulder and we both jump. It's only Ron, announcing his return.
"All right! I'm back! Let the party resume." He tells us, plopping back down in his chair. "I can't imagine how boring it must have been in my absence."
Harry leans back in his chair, my hand left forgotten on the table. He takes a small drink and stares out the window. "Yeah, Ron. Boring."