Author's Note
Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed Chapter One - I truly appreciate it! And as always - my thanks to Kirsti-the-Wonder-Beta! xoxox
REUNION
By JanieB
CHAPTER TWO
Ron Returns
`Seamus, you'll be all right here alone?' asked Ron anxiously for about the twelfth time as he stood in his office doorway, just about to go. It was Friday afternoon and he was leaving early as he'd agreed to have afternoon tea with his mum and dad.
Seamus Finnigan sighed and rolled his eyes. `Yes mate, I'll be fine! For cryin' out loud, nothing's happenin' in the world of Quidditch at the moment since it's off season. And it's too bloody cold anyway!'
Ron gave his second-in-command and friend a lopsided grin. `I know. I just haven't been away for this long before - two weeks!'
`About time too! You have a great Christmas with your family, mate, and say Happy New Year to them all, from me.' Seamus gave Ron a speculative grin. `And give Hermione a hug from me.'
Ron froze, staring at Seamus. `What do you mean?' he demanded.
Seamus shrugged, rolling his eyes again. `Nothin' mate. I always admired that girl. If a hug's not in order, just say hello from me, and thank you. To Harry, too.'
Ron nodded. Since Ginny's return visit, when she'd told him both Harry and Hermione were going to the Ministry's ball and he'd known he'd be seeing them again, his stomach had been in a continuous state of nervousness. Will it really be all right? After all this time? What if -
`Ron?'
Shaking his head as though shaking off something that was bothering him, Ron's gaze once more focused on his friend. `Sure thing,' Ron answered belatedly, his voice non-committal, `and you have a great Christmas too, mate. I'll see you next year.'
After Apparating back to the small cottage he and Seamus shared to pick up the suitcase he'd packed the previous evening (surprising himself as well as Seamus with such unaccustomed organisation), Ron then Apparated to the Burrow. He was greeted with a happy cry and a flurry of hugs from his mother, a warm handshake and an affectionate squeeze of his shoulder from his father.
Molly Weasley was breathless with excitement as she fussed over Ron, the first of her brood to return for the beginning of the family's ritual pre-Christmas festivities. Once the three of them were sitting around the table with a large pot of hot tea, fresh scones with jam and cream and some biscuits baked that morning to warm their insides, Molly could contain herself no longer.
`Ron, you're not going to believe what's happening on Sunday!'
Ron grinned and rolled his eyes, drawing a chuckle from his father. `Try me, Mum.'
Molly took a deep breath, her excitement almost palpable. `Hermione and her parents as well as Harry are all coming for lunch!'
Whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been this. Ron's mouth fell open and he gaped at his mother. He thought he would've had another week to get used to the idea of seeing them again.
`Ron,' said Arthur, putting his hand over his wife's as it lay on the table, `we've actually just asked them to lunch - we haven't had replies as yet.'
`I'm sure they'll come!' said Molly confidently, frowning at her husband.
Ron blinked and realising his mouth was still hanging open, closed it.
`That's great,' he said automatically, nodding.
`Ron,' broke in his father, `it's not going to be a problem is it if they do come? There won't be - I don't know - scenes? You three - listen, son, what happened?' It was a question his parents had asked countless times in the past, but it had been a while since he'd last heard it.
Ron sighed. `It doesn't really matter any more Dad, truly. Water under the bridge and all that. We'll be fine - no scenes.' At least he hoped there wouldn't be. And he didn't really want to have to explain after all this time, anyway. It had been hard enough living it…
And with that Arthur and Molly had to be satisfied.
That night, as he lay in his old bed, Ron was amused at how small it now seemed. He was lying on his back, his arms behind his head as he looked across the room and out the window at the clear, cloudless sky, a shining, almost full moon casting soft shadows.
How many times had he been asked that question: "What happened?"? It all seemed so long ago now. Almost like a dream. Or rather, a nightmare, more like it. But it looked as though the nightmare would soon end… thanks to Hermione.
Everyone had wanted to know. Everyone had asked, over and over, but the one thing the three of them had agreed upon was to not discuss it until they knew more; they'd even hoped for a short time that it wouldn't become public knowledge, that no one would notice. But as time passed, of course they had. Confused shock amongst wizardkind at the disintegration of the Trio had given way to puzzlement, followed by resentment over the feeling that their heroes had in some way let them down. Eventually the incessant, unavoidable curiosity that took over from the resentment was replaced with a form of resigned acceptance and the questions faded out. Oh, there were the speculative articles that cropped up from time to time in various publications that claimed to know the reason behind "the split" (especially on the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat) - a few books were even written about it - but all everyone knew for sure was that no one really knew the truth - except the infuriatingly silent Trio.
What the hell am I going to say to them? wondered Ron, his stomach clenching with nerves at the thought of seeing Harry and Hermione again after so long, whether it was this Sunday or next week at the ball. One consolation, they're probably thinking the same thing. I wonder if Mum will convince them to come this Sunday? His thoughts moved back once more to the past… It's been five years. Things should be different now, he hoped. Beneath his nervousness at seeing Harry and Hermione again, Ron was aware of a glimmer of hope that had come into being a few weeks previously due solely to the tenacious and intrepid Hermione…
Hermione Comes Home
The next day dawned crisp and clear. Mr and Mrs Granger had been up early - the excitement at seeing their daughter again too great to permit sleeping in, even though it was Saturday. Hermione had owled them every week without fail since she'd gone to live at the Beauxbatons Academy, but the only time they saw her was at Christmas during her visit home and when they'd go to Paris each autumn to spend time with her for her birthday.
With their fireplace connected to the Floo Network for the occasion, Hermione arrived at nine a.m. as scheduled.
After long, warm hugs from both her parents, Hermione stood between them, her arms through theirs.
`It's so good to be home again!' she said happily, looking from one to the other.
Much as Ron had done the day before, Hermione sat down with her parents to some morning tea in front of the living room fire.
Sighing happily as she sipped her tea, curled up on the couch in front of the fire, Hermione realised how much she missed England, the familiar sights and sounds - more so this year than any other, although she didn't bother to analyse why; it didn't seem important now that she was here.
`We've received an invitation from Arthur and Molly to lunch on Sunday, at the Burrow,' said her mother quietly, remembering the arrival of the exhausted old owl early the previous day.
Hermione looked up, surprised.
`We said yes,' put in her father, looking at her over the top of his spectacles. `Although the poor owl that brought the invitation seemed almost dead from exhaustion. We kept him here, resting, until this morning, then sent back our acceptance.'
`Would've been poor old Errol,' murmured Hermione as she looked down at her hands, watching as they absentmindedly turned her teacup around and around, the small amount of liquid left in it swirling aimlessly. She knew her parents had intentionally sent that acceptance back before she arrived - they'd always made it plain they thought she, Ron and Harry were doing the wrong thing by not keeping in touch; they weren't to know that it had never been the Trio's choice to be apart.
Perhaps it's best if we do meet again before the ball itself, she thought. I'll have to owl Harry and Ron again and let them know - send them some of the potion…
`That's all right, Mum. Dad. I'm happy to go.'
Mrs Granger heaved a sigh of relief as she flashed a triumphant smile at her husband.
`Hermione,' said her father gently, `can't you tell us now what happened between the three of you?'
Hermione lifted her head to stare into the crackling fire for a moment before shaking her head.
`It doesn't matter any more, Dad. It's all in the past and behind us now. Best to leave it there.' If everything goes as I hope, perhaps I'll tell you… about that last fight with Voldemort and what he did…what happened to us… and about Harry… Harry… Her heart fluttered erratically merely at the thought of him.
Harry's Back
Sunday morning found a tall, black-haired wizard standing at the window of his room, gazing over the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Harry's room was high in a tower with views over the grounds to Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest beyond. The Black Lake sparkled in the winter sun and he could clearly see the imposing entrance gates in the distance as well as the Quidditch pitch. He could also see tiny forms zooming around the grandstands on their miniature broomsticks - a team practise in progress.
Five years, he thought. Five years since - since it was all over. Five years since - well, no point on dwelling on that now. He would have to wait and see. He wondered how much Ron and Hermione had changed in that time. He wondered how much he'd changed himself. He didn't feel as though it was much, but it was hard to judge such things about yourself. What would they say to each other? It was, after all, five years. Unexpectedly, a crystal clear picture from that fateful night five years before blazed in his mind, bringing with it all the grief and sorrow he thought time had managed to smooth away. The years between that night and now were stripped away, allowing the wrenching heartache and pain to take hold once more.
As the vision faded, Harry took a few deep, calming breaths, bitterness coursing through him at the thought that even in death Voldemort had managed to spread discord - and between the three people who had defeated him, no less. Another good reason to go to the ball, thought Harry. And Hermione seemed to think she'd finally found the solution to their problem. For a number of reasons, he prayed she had. He wondered, his stomach clenching at the thought, how it would feel to be in the same room with her again - for her to be close enough to touch… although he supposed it wasn't very realistic of him to hold out hope about how Hermione felt after all this time - well, I'll just wait and see, he told himself bracingly.
A soft rustling noise caught his ear and he turned to see Hedwig fly in through the small, high window he always left open for her. As she landed expertly on her perch, she looked at him expectantly. He realised then there were two scrolls and a small package attached to her leg and quickly crossed the room to remove them, running his hand over her soft feathers in an affectionate caress as he thanked her quietly. Hedwig hooted softly in reply before tucking her head under her wing, obviously ready for a nap.
Taking a seat at his large, slightly untidy desk, Harry pushed aside some assignments he was in the middle of marking and unrolled one of the parchments. He felt a shock of recognition and pleasure race through him for the second time in a matter of weeks when he saw the close, neat writing he'd recognise anywhere, any time, no matter how long since he'd last seen it: it was Hermione's.
Dear Harry,
Isn't this ironic? We don't correspond for five years and here I am writing to you for the second time in as many weeks. I arrived home yesterday to have my parents tell me they'd accepted an invitation for lunch today at the Burrow and that you were invited also. (Harry groaned as he read this, realising he'd forgotten to owl Mrs Weasley about that invitation; he hadn't been able to decide what to do.) They didn't know whether you'd agreed to go or not, so I'd just like to say that I hope you did. Ron would be there already, at the Burrow, and I've also sent an owl to him this morning with some of the potion, so the three of us should be able to be together without any problems. In case you've forgotten (it has been a while!), take one and three quarter tablespoonfuls just before you Floo to the Burrow and all should be well. (I'm assuming you'll be Flooing from Professor McGonagall's office.)
Looking forward to seeing you later today,
Your friend always,
Hermione
Harry couldn't help but smile. It had always been Hermione who had been the "fixer" and "finder outer" of the Trio and she was still doing it, thank Merlin! And she'd said she was looking forward to seeing him…his heart began to race and his stomach churned in such a way that he was certain he'd not be able to eat for the rest of the day. Yes, he thought, doing his best to ignore the convolutions of his insides, it was definitely time to "fix things" and make amends…
As it slowly sank in that he was going to be seeing Hermione and Ron in a few hours and that the Yule Ball was less than a week away, it was as if some unnamed weight was lifted from his shoulders; he actually felt lighter - as though he was floating… the Yule Ball… and Hermione… he and Hermione… and Ron, too, of course… free at last…
Returning to the present with a rueful shake of his head, Harry opened the second letter, which was from Molly Weasley asking him rather desperately whether or not he'd be coming to the Burrow for lunch today - she hadn't heard from him; Ron would be there and Hermione and her parents were coming, surely he'd be there…? Harry smiled, still feeling light-hearted as he sat down to write his reply assuring his "adoptive" mother he'd be there.
All Together Once More
Molly put her husband and son to work at magically extending their scrubbed wooden table and small kitchen to accommodate all the guests, her wand a blur as she oversaw the cooking. Ginny and Dean had arrived early to help and Molly immediately put them to work on various culinary tasks.
As the clock which Fred and George had given their parents the previous Christmas struck eleven, Bill and Fleur arrived, stepping out of the fireplace with their four-year-old twin daughters, each a giggling, blonde, miniature version of their mother. As their parents put them down, the little girls streaked across the room, firstly to hug Arthur then Molly.
`Grand-père! Mamie! We love you! We love you!' They both squealed with delight as Arthur picked up first one, then the other, and swung them around before putting them down so they could run to Molly.
`Oy! What about Uncle Ron, you two?'
As Ron stood up from the table, the girls laughed and ran to him, hugging him enthusiastically.
`Oncle Ron, we love you too!' they chanted before turning once more to Molly. `Bonbon, Mamie, s'il te plait? Pleeze?' they demanded eagerly, pulling at their grandmother's apron.
`Always, my darlings,' crowed Molly happily, reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out some sweets which she handed over to the excited girls, getting more kisses and hugs by way of thanks.
Charlie and his wife, Cordelia, who was very obviously pregnant, arrived shortly afterwards. Percy and Penelope Weasley arrived on the heels of Charlie and Cordelia, Percy a much more subdued man these days. He'd left the Ministry of Magic shortly before Voldemort's defeat, as even he could no longer ignore the Ministry's appalling performance since the days of Cornelius Fudge when it came to looking after the best interests of all witches and wizards. It had been an excruciating time for the proud and pompous Percy; he'd gone to work for Gringott's, taking over as Head of Archives, a job that suited him perfectly, and had married Penelope Clearwater, his childhood sweetheart, a year after Voldemort's demise. Yet to this day there remained a distinct coolness in his siblings' manner towards him which he accepted stoically.
Fred and George stepped out the fireplace with a theatrical flourish just minutes before midday.
`You're always late!' accused Mrs Weasley.
`Better late than never!' chorused the twins before they descended on their mum and hugged her complaints into oblivion.
Harry, Hermione and the Grangers were due to arrive at midday and as the last minute rush to finish everything swung into action, Ron found his eyes constantly moving to the clock while his stomach seemed to be tying itself into an ever tighter knot. When, at the stroke of twelve, a tiny figure that looked just like Hagrid walked out onto the little wooden platform above the clock-face and banged two large cymbals together, Ron jumped nervously. His eyes were quickly drawn back to the flames in the large kitchen fireplace which turned green again as if on cue, the remaining eleven crashes of the clock-Hagrid's cymbals fading into the background…
Mr and Mrs Granger stepped out, smiling widely at everyone, followed by Hermione, who was also smiling, although her eyes were searching, intent only on finding two other people. She sensed at once that Harry wasn't yet there and then she saw Ron across the room, staring at her. She stood perfectly still, looking back at him. Neither of them noticed the silence that descended at that moment as everyone watched and waited.
I think he's even taller! Hermione mused, taking in Ron's still rather lanky frame; he was wearing Muggle jeans and a pale green jumper. But he's still Ron - thank Merlin!
Merlin's beard! Hermione? Ron only just managed to stop his jaw dropping open at the sight of his old friend. Living in France had obviously had an effect on Hermione's appearance. Whether it was Sleekeazy's Hair Potion or something else, her hair - which was now very long, almost to her waist - was as well behaved as a witch could wish; she wore it combed back away from her face and fixed behind with some sort of comb, the long, shining, soft curls trailing down her back. She too, wore Muggle jeans, but they seemed smarter somehow, rather than casual - perhaps it was the brown leather boots that peeked out from beneath the denim hem that did it? Her jumper was a soft creamy colour and very fine - Ron wasn't to know it was cashmere, last year's birthday present from her parents - and had a large, rolled neckline that draped softly across her shoulders. Ron, unable to move, watched as Hermione crossed the room towards him, everyone moving silently aside to give her a clear path. Extending her hands towards him, Hermione smiled, suddenly feeling a little shy, but not wanting to show it. Ron automatically reached out and took her hands when she was close enough and that's where they stood, hands loosely clasped, smiling at each other.
`All right, Ron?' she asked softly.
Ron nodded. `All right, Hermione. You?'
It was Hermione's turn to nod as she felt suddenly overcome, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. She could tell that the potion, although a "temporary fix", was working as there was no animosity whatsoever between them; this was how it had been once, how it would be again…tears of happy anticipation sparkled in her eyes at the thought.
`Hey,' said Ron softly, `it's going to be all over soon - in the past, and done with. Right?'
Swallowing the tears, Hermione nodded again. `Right. I just wish we could have stopped him from doing this to us in the first place.'
`There's no way any of us could've known or have been prepared, even you Hermione, you know that,' said Ron with a laconic smile.
Hermione chuckled. `That's true. You know, I feel so much better seeing you - and knowing we're going to see Harry. It just seems so right.'
`It is, it's our time,' Ron replied, his voice dropping, becoming serious. `The three of us were - are - right. Voldemort was wrong.'
Nodding in agreement, Hermione squeezed Ron's hands. `It really is so very good to see you again, Ron,' she said happily, glad she'd put that little extra ingredient in the potion that would help dispel awkwardness; she'd become very adept at potions over the years.
Ron pulled gently on her hands, drawing her to him and wrapping his long arms around her. `It's even better seeing you, Hermione.'
`Go Ron! Go Hermione!'
Ron looked up. Fred and George were both clapping and cheering - and within seconds, they were joined by everyone else. Hermione moved back from Ron and turned around, very aware that her cheeks were flushed and that she was incapable of wiping the smile off her face.
`Where's Harry?' cried Fred and, as if he'd heard him, the flames in the kitchen fireplace again turned green and total silence once more descended upon the Burrow as Harry Potter stepped out.
Hermione gasped, very softly, but because of the silence blanketing the room, it was clearly audible. Everyone present knew exactly what had drawn that gasp from her.
In the last five years, Harry had matured both as a man and as a wizard and he now unconsciously emanated an aura of understated power, the like of which hadn't been experienced since Albus Dumbledore's time. While remaining oblivious to the effect his presence had, as well as the reason behind it, Harry couldn't ignore the reactions of others and he'd learnt the easiest course was to simply pay no attention to them.
Harry's self assurance had also unconsciously kept pace with the continuing development of his power over the previous five years, power that was continually being refined through his teaching and his own personal practise sessions.
Hermione understood precisely what he meant when Ron muttered in an awed whisper, "Wow!" from behind her; Harry was undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with on every level - and with the passage of time, now seemed more so than on the day he'd vanquished his lifelong enemy.
As she took in his tall, lithe frame, clothed also in Muggle jeans with a deep green jumper, Hermione noticed he'd filled out somewhat - that he'd lost that pinched, youthful look of not having had quite enough to eat; he looked well and truly like a man. With her stomach feeling as though it was trying to tie itself into knots, Hermione gazed at him, realising that for her, nothing had changed in the last five years when it came to this man. She felt as though some invisible force had slammed into her, taking her breath away, as she took in the sight of his eternally messy black hair, his unforgettable green eyes behind those trademark glasses - and the infamous scar, just visible beneath his untidy fringe.
Even his stance unknowingly conveyed authority acquired from teaching and his own, distinctive aura of power: he stood with his feet slightly apart, his shoulders back and his gaze steady, looking straight ahead, both arms deceptively relaxed as they hung by his sides; somehow Hermione knew he would be capable of lightning fast reactions, if needed.
Harry's brilliant green eyes immediately sought out Ron and Hermione.
He took in Ron's lanky frame before allowing his gaze to linger on Hermione's glowing countenance. How is it possible she looks even more beautiful? he wondered dazedly, his whole body tingling just from the sight of her. Then he grinned.
And when he did, he was just Harry again and everything seemed to fall into place - it was as though they'd all been occupying a frozen tableau for the time it had taken to absorb each other's presence - and now they were free to move again.
`Hermione? Ron?' Harry's voice, edged with hesitancy, nevertheless sounded joyously strong and loud in the silence of the room.
Hermione found herself running towards him without thinking and throwing her arms around his neck in a hug such as she'd not given anyone since the last hug she'd given Harry, so long ago…
Ron was striding towards him, an ear splitting grin in place, his hand extended.
The air in the room crackled with expectancy and anticipation.
With his left arm around Hermione's shoulders as she moved aside for Ron, Harry took Ron's hand in his right, shaking it vigorously, both men grinning uncontrollably at each other.
It's as though a spell has been lifted, thought Ginny, watching them, almost hypnotised. It's as though the last five years haven't existed. I can't believe it!
As Hermione wrapped her left arm around Ron, his arms swung up to embrace both her and Harry, who then clapped his right hand to Ron's shoulder forming a tight circle. Spontaneous applause and cheering broke out amongst those present.
Hermione felt her tears return and this time she couldn't prevent them rolling down her cheeks, unheeded, as she smiled helplessly.
Harry looked at Ron and both men knew the worst was over and they would finally be able to reclaim their friendship.
Hermione was watching them and felt her heart swell at the sight - until Harry turned and looked down at her, his smile making her heart turn over in her chest.
Then Ron laughed and so did Harry, the infectious sound drawing laughter from Hermione as well. `It's really going to be all right, isn't it?' asked Harry. `You bet it is,' said Ron heartily and Hermione looked from one to the other as she nodded, her eyes bright with tears.
No one else could hear what they were saying and so didn't know what was going on between the three of them in their huddle, but then that was nothing new…
`Right you two, time to celebrate!' said Ron as he straightened, dropping his arms, `We've earnt it!'
`Yes, we have,' said Hermione as she and Harry smiled at each other.
`You all do, indeed, deserve it,' exclaimed Bill who, standing behind them, had heard Ron's remark.
`Then let the celebrations begin,' said Harry, grinning, his gaze moving away from Ron to rest once more on Hermione's luminous face.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Author's Note
Here's a little excerpt from Chapter Three dear readers, which will be along on Wednesday some time:
Without moving her head, Hermione lifted her eyes from the fire to look at Harry. He thought she looked tired, but contented, and he smiled tenderly at her; she was, after all, the one who had given them the promise of a future in which the three of them could be together again.
`Thank you,' he said quietly, feeling his heartstrings tugged by the sight of a solitary tear forming in the corner of her eye before slowly making its way down her cheek, even though she was smiling. Harry stretched out his right hand, palm up, towards her and Hermione, after a quick glance down, placed her hand in his, loving the feel of his warm, strong fingers curling around hers.
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