Long Way Home

A/N: Well, it only took me a year. Hey everyone. I know it’s been awhile, but I hope you’re all still adamant, delusional H/Hr Shippers even after the disaster that is called the Epilogue. (Albus Severus, my foot. That child totally got beat up on the playground.) Anyway, this is the sequel to Sweet Child of Mine, so if you haven’t read that, you probably should, because you would be very, very lost if you haven’t read it. I really adore the Ron/Luna ship, but haven’t actually written anything, so I hope it goes okay. I’m really glad to be back on Portkey, and I hope you enjoy this as much as SCoM.

~Meg

Ron

Chapter One

Landing in London

“If this keeps me away much longer

I don’t know what I will do

You’ve got to understand it’s a hard life

I’ve been going through

And when the night falls in around me

I don’t think I’ll make it though

I’ll use your light to guide the way

‘Cause all I think about is you”

‘Landing in London’

--3 Doors Down

There’s nothing like an Egyptian sunset, I decide after watching yet another one. I step back inside the hotel room that has been serving as my apartment for the last three months and slide the curtains closed on a quickly blackening Cairo sky. Settling back into my bed, my eyes travel to a picture of me, Hermione, and James taken last Christmas at The Burrow. I realize with a start; that was our last Christmas as a family. And my heart aches.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been three months since I left London and a part of me wonders what I’ve missed. Having The Daily Prophet delivered daily costs me a fortune, but at least allows me to have some inkling of what’s going on back home. There are days when I want to kick myself for not keeping in touch with Mum or Ginny or even Luna, for that matter, but then I remember why I took this Sabbatical; to get away from everything at home… Or, rather, everyone at home. Ginny keeps me updated with her ever-changing due date and has threatened me twice with her jelly-legs curse if I’m not there for the birth of my niece or nephew. I never reply, though, and it hurts me not to talk to my sister, but I’m hoping she’ll realize that I just need some time to think. It seems to have worked, because I haven’t heard anything in almost a month. I haven’t heard a word from Hermione or James, but I assume that they’re too busy adjusting to their new life. I really am happy for them both, but I miss my best friend.

I read in the paper that Harry and Hermione were married in a small service two weeks ago. It’s all just as well; there’s no way I would have been comfortable at their wedding. I guess I always knew it would come to this. They deserve each other. The one owl I have sent since I’ve been here was to Harry and Hermione, telling them how happy I am for them.

Then there’s the ongoing saga surrounding James. That Skeeter woman devoured Hermione’s and my divorce and the fact that James is actually Harry’s son… If I ever get my hands on her… I’m surprised the Ministry hasn’t been alerted of Rita’s illegal animagus form yet. I expect Hermione’s just been too busy to deal with her.

Things here in Cairo have been relatively quiet. The Ministry is actually considering bringing us home. Part of me longs for the familiarity of London, but another part of me wonders if I’m not better off here.

Most of all, I miss Luna. Which is a little unnatural, if you ask me. Sure, I miss Hermione and James and even Harry a little, but I know they’re okay. I know they’ve got one another. But Luna is… Luna, and I worry about her. We lived together for three weeks before I left for Cairo and I was—am—very grateful for her friendship. We went through a lot together when we were younger, and after everything that happened when Harry randomly returned, it was nice to have someone to sit down and laugh with. She and her belief of what may or may not exist, never ceases to amaze me.

I stretch out on my bed, close my eyes, and finger the small pink button Luna had plucked off her shirt the morning I left for Cairo. She strung it on a piece of thread and tied it around my neck saying it was to protect me from the Sand Dwelling Egyptian Snefflehumps that I was sure to run into. I rolled my eyes and hugged her, thinking about how I would immediately rip it from my neck when I settled in. It’s been three months and that piece of string hasn’t left my chest. It’s nice to have a little piece of home, and knowing I’m safe from those mythical Snefflehumps gives me a reason to smile.

I’m still absently tracing the outline of the pearly button when there’s a knock on the door. I roll out of bed and pull the door open to see the head of the entire Cairo operation and my boss, Thomas Parsons. “Oh!” I gasp. “Thomas. Please, come in.” My boss or not, we’ve gotten close over these last three months. He a bit younger than I am, but I can remember seeing him at Hogwarts once or twice.

He nods. “Thanks, Ron.” He slumps into the chair beside the window. “You haven’t got any Ogden’s Old tucked somewhere, do you?”

“Yeah.” I bustle about the small room, getting our drinks. “Why’d you come, Thomas? Has anything happened?”

Thomas sighs deeply. “Well, Ron, that’s just it.” He accepts the glass of Firewhiskey I offer to him and he takes a long drink. “The Ministry’s up in arms about what’s been going on, or, more specifically what’s not been going on.”

I take a sip of my drink and sink back to my bed. “It’s been unlucky that we haven’t caught anyone, but—”

“But the Ministry’s convinced that there is no one to catch,” he cuts me off. “We had an unconfirmed sighting of Death Eaters three months ago when your team first came down. But that was three months ago from a witch whose health is declining rapidly. She might have been lucid, but there’s no way to really know.”

“Did she have that—”

“The mystery illness that leaves a wizard powerless and eventually mad or dead? We don’t know. That’s just it, Ron! We’re no closer to solving anything now then we were three months ago and the Ministry’s getting rather tired of spending money chasing something that may or may not exist.” He drains his glass.

“So…” I say quietly. “So, are they sending us all home?”

Thomas shakes his head. “I don’t know, mate. I honestly can’t tell you what’s going to happen next. I can tell you what I think might happen…”

“Please,” I press him

“If nothing changes and soon…” He rubs his eyes and drains his glass. “Then yes, Ron. I do believe the Ministry will pull us from Cairo.”

I sigh. “I thought it seemed very quiet.”

He chuckles softly. “You shouldn’t say that. As soon as you do…”

My mind automatically jumps to Luna. “Are you superstitious, Thomas?”

He shrugs. “You can never be too careful.”

…

I’m having the most lovely dream that involves Luna, a Chudley Cannons match, and fireworks when someone bangs on my door. I wake with a start and hear Thomas calling my name. I rub my eyes sleepily, but throw open the door. Thomas rushes in and locks the door behind him. “Whassgoinon?” I mutter stupidly.

He crosses to the window and opens the curtains.

I’m suddenly very awake. The sky is the color of a blood orange, and smoke billows all around. “What happened?”

“An explosion,” Thomas pants. “A bloody explosion at the Muggle Embassy. This isn’t good, Ron.”

“Well, how do we know it wasn’t a Muggle terrorist attack? It could be anyone…”

He shakes his head. “It was magical, Ron.”

“Well, how can you be so sure?”

Thomas raises a pale, shaking hand and points in the direction of the Embassy. I feel my stomach turn. There, glittering high above the smoldering remains of what was once an incredibly beautiful building, is a translucent green skull. “God…” I breathe.

“It would appear…” Thomas sighs deeply. “That there are Death Eaters afoot.”

…

We’ve spent the entire night, canvassing and trying to talk to any witch or wizard who might have been an eyewitness to what happened at the Embassy. Unfortunately, the attack occurred at 3:30 in the morning and there’s not a lot of traffic at that time of day. The sun’s just beginning to peek over the horizon and all I can think about is my bed and how good it would feel to sink into the sheets and just sleep for hours and hours. But as Thomas grabs my arm and tells me we should try to sift through the rubble for any clues, I can tell it’s going to be a long time before I see my pillows again.

“We’re not looking for survivors,” Thomas tells me as we duck under the rope, keeping the general population out. It doesn’t keep them from looking, though. “We have to be careful,” he adds quietly. “No magic. We couldn’t risk anyone seeing.”

“So… If we’re not looking for survivors,” I pull on the latex gloves he hands me. “What exactly are we looking for?”

He shrugs. “A wand? Unlikely it would have survived the blast but… Anything that looks suspicious or dark.”

We sift through the charred remains in silence for a moment until I kick a black piece of wall away. Buried under the rocks and bricks of what used to be the building is a small black box with a padlock securing it. I glance quickly over my shoulder to make sure I’m hidden from Muggle view before I point my wand at the lock and mutter, “Alohomora.” I didn’t expect it to be that easy, but the locks drops into my open palm and I open it gently.

“What do you have, Ron?” Thomas comes up behind me as I lift a small ampoule full of clear liquid.

I shake my head. “It’s… Well, I don’t know what it is, exactly.”

Thomas stands up suddenly and motions two other people over to where we are. He whispers hurriedly to them and the two men scurry off.

I stand and squint in the bright morning Egyptian sun, still studying the ampoule cupped in my hand. “What do you think it is, Thomas?”

“I don’t know and quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to. Nevertheless, I’ve sent Jones to contact St. Mungo’s. They can send a research team down to help us out.”

“So…”

He takes the ampoule from my palm, holds it up to the light as if the sunlight filtering through it will somehow alert us to its properties, and shakes his head, smiling gently at me. “And you had to say that it was getting quiet down here.”

…

“And so…” Harry grins and clasps Hermione’s hand. “We’ve decided to give it a go. We’re together now.”

I clap along with the rest of Gryffindor as he places a gentle kiss on her cheek, but I back slowly out of the portrait hole and down the corridor.

I knew this would happen. I knew they would end up together. I’ve been expecting it for years. This isn’t to say that I’ve accepted it. I don’t know what happened at Christmas when they were here by themselves. I don’t want to, but I know something happened then that completely changed the way they felt about each other. They tried. They tried to get on like nothing had happened, but I could tell. I spent six years watching the two of them exchange touches more erotic than one of Seamus’s smuggled PlayWizard magazines and have entire conversations without saying a word to each other. It kind of amazed me. So earlier today, when I noticed how awkward things were between them, I just marched myself up to Harry and asked him when he started loving her.

He ducked his head and got very quiet. “That’s like asking the sun when it started shining,” he muttered.

I kind of wanted to hit him in that moment. “What are you talking about?”

Then he shook his head very gently. “I didn’t,” he whispered, still not looking at me. “start loving her. With her there wasn’t a start… It just was. Forever. Like… I don’t know. It just happened.”

I bit my lip. “You should tell her.”

“What?” His eyes glimmered with hope.

“I think you should tell her that you love her.” I couldn’t believe that I was actually telling him this. I mean, yeah, it sounded great in my head, all noble and such… But I never thought I’d really do it. I loved Hermione way before he ever thought about doing it. But Harry’s my best friend and I love Hermione so much… They deserve to be happy and if my being unhappy is what it takes to make her happy then… Here I am. “I broke up with her an hour ago.” I told him evenly, showing no emotion.

“Oh,” he stated simply. “How’d she take it?”

I shrugged. “Like she knew it was coming.”

Harry swallowed hard. “So, Hermione and me… We have your blessing? I mean, if she wants to be with me, you’d… Be okay with that?”

I nodded. “You love her more than I ever could.”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “if that’s true…”

“But see, the difference is, Harry,” I clapped him on the shoulder. “she loves you. She always has.”

I pull myself from my memory and hit my head on the wall. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“What’s happened?” A slightly familiar voice comes from behind me.

I turn around to see Luna Lovegood standing a few feet behind me. “Oh…” I groan.

“Oh, it’s you, Ronald,” she states cheerfully. “Why were you calling yourself stupid?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Just…”

“I heard you broke up with your girlfriend earlier today.”

I scoff. “You get to the point, don’t you?”

She smiles. “I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

Okay, I’d rather feed myself to Aragog than talk about my relationship problems with Loony Lovegood. But I smile back politely all the same. “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna smiles and nods to herself, obviously pleased with my answer and skips off a few steps. She only makes it a few feet before she turns around and purses her lips as she looks me up and down.

“What?” I venture.

She laughs. “I was just thinking… If you ever get to looking for a new girlfriend, I might be interested. Just let me know if you get lonely.” And without further explanation, and in complete Luna fashion, she smiles at me again, turns on her heel and takes off down the corridor.