Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 16,114

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: This chapter has a major helping of flashback Hr/R that is necessary for the story. If even the thought of that makes you nutty you might want to back away. Also there is a side order of present day R/LB. You have been warned.

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Sunday, 05/29/05

He couldn't see her face. The woman standing a good few paces in front of him, that is. He had been riding on this thing for hours, and yet not once had she shown any decency by turning around so he could see her face.

He was in a building made entirely of glass. Encased in it, more like. The ceiling was made of it, and glass surrounded him on both sides. He was riding on a moving crystal staircase. The contraption was heading in a downward direction, yet there seemed to be no end to it. He just kept riding.

Down, down, down.

She kept riding.

Down, down, down.

But she wouldn't show him her face. All he could see was glossy hair, not too short, not too long, and the back of her shimmering white cloak. It seemed to sparkle of its own volition, and for the life of him Ron could not tell what would make it do so. He knew of no fabric, not even in the wizarding world, with that kind of luster, that kind of sheen. Her hair seemed to be made of the same shimmering material. He momentarily rubbed at his own eyes to see if they were playing some sort of trick on him. But no, the woman before him still glittered.

"Hey," he called out trying to get her attention. "Do you know where we are?"

She paid him no heed, just kept riding the glass stairs.

Down, down, down. Down, down, down.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Down, down, down. Down, down, down.

"HEY!"

He had had about enough of this!

"WHY WON'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?"

Down, down, down. Down, down, down.

"JUST LOOK AT ME!"

Yet still she said nothing.

All of a sudden Ron felt his feet moving. He would make her speak! He would see her face!

He galloped down the endless moving staircase, determined to reach his goal. But the closer he should have gotten to the woman, the further away she would seem to be, although she made no move to get away from him. Surely she could hear his panting breath in back of her?

After what felt like a lifetime, Ron finally came upon her. She was luminous! Her back was still turned to him and he was certain he could count every single shining strand on her head. But that was unimportant now. He just wanted to see her face.

He placed his right hand on her left shoulder. She didn't even stir. As he gently tugged to turn her round to face him, Ron became giddy with anticipation. He was going to see her face! Finally! It was going to happen.

Almost there.

Almost.

And then she was facing him.

And then she was purring.

Purring?

~~**~~ ~~**~~

Ron opened his eyes to see a squashed ginger face with whiskers pressed against his own.

"BLOODY HELL!"

In his excitement at being startled awake, Ron fell off the side of the bed. This action produced a peal of bubbly giggles from the other side of the mattress.

"Do it again, daddy! Do it again!"

Ron sat up on his knees and looked across the bed. Violet was standing on the other side, still dressed in her white cotton night shift, with her strawberry blonde hair mussed about her head. On top of the bed sat the bottlebrush tailed daemon of his despair.

Two days ago, after Ron, Lavender, and Violet left the Ministry, Ron had decided to get his newly made daughter a gift. They had just come from filing the adoption papers and as of that moment he was legally the child's father. To mark the occasion he had decided to buy his daughter whatever her small heart desired. Lavender thought it was a marvelous idea. Ron asked Violet what she wanted most and the little girl told him that she would like a bunny rabbit.

Lavender had made a hair appointment that she was already running late for, so she left them in Diagon Alley to their pursuit of a fluffy, long eared, lifelong pal. He and his daughter then made their way to the Magical Menagerie to pick out her new pet.

The place was cramped and crowded by dozens of cages. The sounds of hissing, chirping, and scratching rang in the air. The air reeked of a dozen different varieties of animals. Ron could see sleek black ravens and furry puffskeins in cages. In the corner near the door he saw a bat hanging upside down from its perch.

The shop was filled with all manners of creatures, but Ron had yet to see the shop's owner. That is until the witch came running from the back of the store chasing after a furry orange creature that was hunkered low to the ground. The animal bounded right up to him and Vi and leapt into the child's arms. The little girl had to brace herself to accommodate the weight of the fat cat. It was only when Ron really looked at it that he realized that he knew the animal. He knew it very well.

"No way!" he exclaimed, eyes wide.

"I'm so sorry," the clerk said relieving the cat from Vi's arms, before looking up at him and starting back in shock. "Oh my! You're Ron Weasley, aren't you?"

Ron, who was still staring at the cat in the woman's arms, was so preoccupied that he barely acknowledged her question.

"Um, yeah, I am," he merely said.

"Gracious me! I adore the Wasps! My husband, our boys...my whole family are some of your biggest fans!"

"Is that right..." he said absentmindedly.

"We've followed you ever since your first match with the Cannons. In fact we got our tickets for the big game as soon as Wimbourne made it into the finals."

"Great, great. Say, that cat you're holding, is it by any chance," Ron paused, half hoping that he was wrong in his guess, "part kneazle?"

She looked at him, shocked for a moment, before answering that it was.

"Half-dementor too, I'm almost inclined to believe. He's always upsetting the other animals," she said as she placed the cat down on the floor. Instead of prowling away he simply sat on the ground in front of him and Vi and stared at them both appraisingly, tail swishing back and forth.

"You see, I sold him some years ago. This little girl actually thought he was cute. Can you believe that?"

She gave Ron a charming smile, but Ron could only manage a grimace in return.

"She must have cast him off though because about two years ago the brute wandered back in here. But enough of that, what can I do for you Mr. Weasley?"

Ron pulled his eyes away from the beast to stare back at the witch.

"Um...well, my daughter here would like to get a pet. A bunny, if you have one."

"Oh yes I do! Dozens. I even have one that can turn itself into a top hat," she replied.

Ron was just about to ask to see it when he felt a small tug at his sleeves. He looked down to see Vi staring beseechingly at him. She motioned for him to stoop down, so he got on his knees beside her so she could whisper in his ears. Upon hearing what she had to say, Ron's eyes bulged at her request.

"No," he pleaded with her, jumping up.

Her big cornflower blue eyes watered.

"Didn't you say you wanted a rabbit?"

A single, solitary tear rolled down one plump cheek.

"How 'bout a bird? They have ravens. Or...or a rat; your dad had a pet rat once." Ron then thought better of the suggestion. "Better yet, scratch the rat. How's a nice newt sound?" he begged.

Vi's jaw tightened and she stamped her foot stubbornly. She kind of reminded him of Ginny at that age.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded her head up and down.

"Very well then," he said turning to the store owner. "We'll take the cat."

He lamely pointed at the creature. At his words the orange fur ball leapt up into Vi's opened arms again.

"Excellent!" the witch cried. "If you'll just follow me we can start the sale."

Ron did so reluctantly.

"You won't regret your purchase," she said as she stepped behind the counter. "He will even keep your family safe from anyone trying to harm them."

Her tune had certainly changed from a moment before when she was ready to hex the creature. Ron supposed she was just so happy to unload the cat on someone else that she didn't want to take the chance that he might change his mind. As if he could. Violet was currently laughing by the door as the cat nuzzled at her neck affectionately.

After Ron paid the witch he, Vi, and her new friend were almost out the door before the woman called him back.

"By the way, his name is Crookshanks," she told him.

Ron sighed dismally in defeat.

"Yeah, I know."

Lavender didn't seem to recognize Crookshanks when she saw him later that night at the flat. Ron prayed that she'd never figure it out. The squashed face cat acted as though Lavender wasn't even good enough to change his kitty litter. Ron figured he knew why. It would seem that whatever grudge his former mistress had against Lav, Crookshanks still carried.

Thankfully Lavender didn't notice or care. She wasn't fond of the mangy beast, but if her child liked the ugly thing, so be it. She only reminded Ron that her mother was allergic to cats and terrified of kneazles. Where were they going to keep him until the wedding? Ron told her that he would look after the cat at his place until they moved into a home of their own. Violet, however, was not happy with this arrangement. Where her Kwooksie (the four year old had a hard time pronouncing certain names and words) stayed she stayed. So that night, and the one after, Violet Weasley slept contently between her two parents.

"Are you gonna do it again, daddy?"

Ron slowly raised himself from the floor, every muscle of his body silently aching. Talbot had been relentless the day before at practice.

"Sorry Pumpkin, only one floor show per day. But be sure you tell your friends," he jested.

"Kwooksie, daddy is silly," the little girl conspiratorially told the cat.

Crookshanks meowed in agreement.

Ron stretched his aching sore body, and for a moment wondered where Lavender had gotten to. Then he remembered that she had left at the crack of dawn to go to the Burrow to see how the party set-up was coming along. More like direct the party set-up, Ron thought. Mum was going to be thrilled!

As if reading his thoughts Violet asked, "Where's mummy?"

"Oh she went over to your Grandma Molly's to see about the decorations for today. You didn't forget what today is, did you?"

Ron moved over to sit on the bed in front of her. Crookshanks jumped off of the spread and into her arms. Violet looked up at Ron with curiosity filled eyes.

"Today is a big day," he told her. "We're having a party!"

"For me?" she asked excitedly.

Anytime they had a big gathering at the Burrow for one of the kiddies, and that was quite often when considering the Weasleys' ever expanding clan, Violet always thought that they were all gathered there to celebrate her birthday. Just a few weeks ago she had thrown a huge tantrum when Lish Weasley blew out the candles of what Violet assumed was her cake. Violet had even gone so far as to pull on the 5 year old's long dark plait to show her disapproval with the whole affair. When Violet ended up wearing the remains of what had been a very pretty unicorn cake in her hair, Lavender had been cross. It wasn't until Fred and George danced a festive jig on the ceiling to celebrate Felicity's first outburst of accidental magic that Lavender became furious. The commemorative firework display didn't do much to help either. Damned Forge and Gred! Violet, however, didn't seem too fussed over the spectacle. Ron just assumed she thought the exhibition was for her as well.

"No, sweetheart. Not this time," he solemnly told her, then brightened. "But it is for your mum and me. It's to celebrate that we're getting married. We're going to be husband and wife. Doesn't that sound grand?"

"Does that mean we get to live togedder? Like Wosie's mummy and daddy?"

"Just like Rosie's mummy and daddy," he answered.

"You hear that, Kwooksie?" she asked the cat. He only licked at his paw in answer.

"Hungry, Pumpkin?"

"No. I made cereal and Kwooksie had milk."

"Did Uncle George fix it for you?"

She scowled at him cutely.

"I'm a big girl. I did it."

"'Course you are, sweetheart. Now let's see if you left anything for dear old dad."

~~**~~ ~~**~~

Twenty minutes, and a cleaned kitchen later, Ron was settled at his table munching on a plate of toast and jam he was sharing with Violet. They both had orange juice before them, though his was in a large tumbler and hers was in a sippy cup. Crookshanks sat in her lap. Ron was trying to explain to her why the cat couldn't come to the Burrow with them.

"Dad can only Apparate one person along with him Pumpkin, you know that. And your mum says that you are still too young to go up on my broom."

Ron didn't even mention floo'ing. The child was far too young, and with her speech impediment could end up only Merlin knew where.

"Kwooksie will just have to stay here sweetheart."

Violet's face grew stormy for a moment and Ron feared that she would go into another one of her tear-fests, but instead she just shook her head, took a sip from her cup, and tried to force a bit of toast into Crookshanks mouth. Violet was used to getting her way, but she knew when she was beat.

"Daddy, guess what?"

"What?" he good-naturedly asked.

"Uncle George knows Kwooksie!"

"Does he now," Ron said evenly. He wondered what big mouth George could have told Vi about Crookshanks.

"He said he used to know the liddle gwirl who bewonged to him before me."

Blast George!

"He said you knows her too."

Double blast him!

Ron took a swig of his juice before answering her.

"Well, besides having an incredibly large mouth, your Uncle George was telling the truth," he said. "Your mum and I knew that little girl quite well."

He prayed that Violet would leave it at that.

"Why come she don't come to my bwirfday then?"

He should have known better that Violet wouldn't stop asking questions until she was perfectly satisfied. She was an inquisitive little thing.

"Well Violet...um...that little girl left home a long time ago."

It was an uncomfortable subject they were on. Ron especially didn't want to say anything that the child might repeat in front of Lavender later.

"Why come?"

"I'm...I'm not so sure, Pumpkin."

"She didn't like you no more?"

He coughed.

"No Pumpkin, she liked me just fine. She was my best friend. Mines and you're Uncle Harry's, that is."

Violet furrowed her tiny brow as though she were trying to suss out the troubling puzzle.

"Is she ever coming back?" asked the little girl.

Ron paused, unsure of what to say.

"I-I…I don't know, Pumpkin."

"Ok," she simply replied. "But if she ever comes back she can pway with Kwooksie. I'll let her. Leo won't share, but I do."

Violet then jumped down from her chair and padded out of the room on her bare little feet. Crookshanks followed after her.

As he watched his child walk out of the room, a hard lump formed in Ron's throat. This was nothing new. Whenever he thought of the fact that he was getting married soon, but Hermione wouldn't be there to cheer him on, Ron could barely stave off the depression that would descend upon him. Now was one of those times. Sure he and Hermione had had their differences, but that didn't mean that they had stopped loving each other. Harry was going to be standing up for him, but somehow it just seemed wrong that Hermione wouldn't be there, right by his side as well. The Trio reunited! Like the good old days. But no one had heard a peep from Hermione in years.

"This is what she does, son," Arthur Weasley had told him one day inside his Ministry office. Hermione had been missing officially for more than a year by then.

"Do you know how many wizards and witches she helped successfully assimilate into the Muggle world under me? Fifty! She knows just the right documentation to get them, the precise coaching that they need. If anyone knew how to disappear from wizards it would be that young lady."

Ron gave his father a frustrated glare.

"What about that lead you had a few months ago? Her wand was used somewhere in the States. What was it...Atlantis, I think Percy said?"

"Atlanta."

"Did you even follow up on that?" Ron asked accusingly.

He could tell that his father was slowly losing his patience with him. For all Ron knew, Harry had probably had this very same conversation with the man as well.

"Of course we did! But the American Ministry was not able to find a trace of her. For all we know her wand could have fallen into someone else's hands."

Well that didn't help! Arthur, seeing his son's distressed face, decided to switch gears.

"Son, I'm sure that Hermione will come home eventually. But when she does, do you think she will be happy to hear that you stopped living your life because of her. Harry too?"

"What are you on about?"

"Son, you are barely eating. Your mum is worried sick over it. One of these days a Quaffle is going to go straight through you. Then how will the Cannons get to the Championship?" quipped his dad. Ron was not amused, though.

"And Harry-"

"What about Harry?"

"Well, one can't help but notice that his game is...off," his father said diplomatically. "And he is constantly checking in here to see if there are any updates. I even hear he has been skulking around the Auror Office."

"Well, yeah! She was his best friend too, if you remember."

"Of course I do. But Ginny-"

"GINNY?! Figures," Ron said disgustedly. "She's been complaining again, eh? Gone to good old dad so she can get her way?"

"And what if she has? She's the man's wife, is she not? They are still newlyweds, for Merlin's sake!" countered Arthur defensively. "But Harry has been so wound up over this Hermione situation that little Ginny is feeling neglected. And who could blame her?"

"And what are we supposed to do, dad?! Forget that Hermione even existed? Cor! I thought you cared about her too!"

Arthur's eyes burned with furious indignation at that remark.

"I DO CARE!" he bellowed. "I LOVED THAT GIRL AS IF SHE WERE ONE OF MY VERY OWN! Every morning I walk into that living room praying that the hand on your mum's clock hasn't moved to...hasn't moved..."

Arthur paused to collect himself.

"But there is nothing that you, or I, or Harry can do about that," he continued. "Unless Hermione Granger wants to be found she won't be."

Ron had to fight back the tears that wanted to stream down his face. He knew that his father was telling him this only to help him.

"You know I'm right, Ronnie."

Ron could only weakly nod his head.

"And if you could, try to convince Harry as well."

Ron nodded again.

"He and Ginny will be at the house tonight for dinner. And Ginny has invited that charming friend of hers, Linus' daughter. Why don't you stop by as well?"

Ron's train of thought was interrupted when a tiny owl flew through the kitchen window and landed inelegantly in his juice.

"PIG!"

The wee owl jumped out of the tumbler, landed lightly on the table and shook himself dry. Ron spied the parchment tied to his leg and claimed it. The owl then happily flew off to his bird cage after carrying a much too large for him slice of toast along for the ride.

The note was from Lavender.

"Ron," read Lavender's tight, crimped writing, "DON'T BE LATE! Wash up Violet, dress her in those peach robes that match with mine. DON'T BE LATE! Please hurry! Your mum and my mum are going to kill each other. DON'T BE LATE!"

Ron chuckled at Lavender's tense note. She must be ready to tear her hair out, he thought. Well I'll take care of the midget good and proper, he decided.

He called Violet into the bathroom to take a bath. Violet loved bath time because she got to splash around. She also loved trying to get Ron soaked whenever he washed her up, just as she did now when he got her in the tub of warm, soapy water. He knelt by the wash basin and sponged her off as the chirpy little girl sang some song she had probably made up. It was obvious that she had gotten her singing voice from her mother.

"Daddy, are you happy?" Vi asked as he began to rinse her off.

"Blissfully," he answered with a beaming smile.

"Is that 'cause you are getting some?"

Ron dropped the loofah he had been holding into the tub and stared at his daughter in shock.

"WHAT?! HOW...WHO DID YOU HEAR THAT PHRASE FROM?!" he inquired of her, alarmed.

"Mummy."

"Your mum said that to you?" he asked, clearly stupefied.

"Uh, uh," she said shaking her little blonde head. "She said it to Miss Ewolise. She came for tea and to show mummy her new baby Apple yesterday. She asked mummy why Auntie Ginny was so cross lately and mummy said it was probabwy 'cause she wasn't getting some. Some of what, daddy?"

"Fizzing Whizbees," he lied as he wrapped a towel around Violet and lifted her from the tub. "Your Aunt Ginny loves the things."

Violet must have been satisfied with the answer, because all she said was, "Ooh, me too!"

As he toweled her dry Ron said, "You know you really shouldn't repeat the things that your mum says."

"Why come?" asked Violet.

"It's not nice."

Once again all she said was, "Oh."

Once Ron got Violet cleaned up, dressed, and brushed her hair, he left her in his bedroom so he could take a shower. As he was washing off, his mind wandered time and time again to what Violet had overheard.

He knew that his best friend and his sister were having some...issues, to put it kindly. He and Lav had discussed it a couple of times. But he didn't think things were too far gone. At least he hoped they weren't. Neither Harry nor Ginny had ever mentioned anything to him about it. For Ginny that was common, she usually kept things close to the vest unless she wanted you to know it. He and Harry were usually very open with one another, though. At least he thought they were. But obviously the situation was more critical than he imagined.

For one thing, Ron knew that the Potters no longer slept in the same bed. Harry had accidentally let that slip one day over lunch. He explained it away by saying that Ginny had finally gotten tired of his snoring and that was the reason for the move. But Ron knew that Harry didn't snore. Seven years of sharing a bedroom, sometimes even sharing a bed, will gift you with that kind of intimate knowledge about someone. Harry might thrash around from time to time, he might even pull the bed curtains down in a fit of restlessness, but he did not snore. Ron didn't point this fact out to his friend then because he figured that when the time was right Harry would open up to him. That was months ago.

Ron pondered if maybe he should take a more proactive approach and just confront Harry about it. Maybe he could help his best friend and sister with their marital problems. Maybe, when he saw him later at the Burrow, Ron could take his dark haired mate aside and offer him some well learned advice. But then Ron wondered if any of their family or friends had spoken bluntly to him or Hermione way back when would that have done any good either. Would it have made a difference? Would they still be together? Would they still want to be together?

Back in the good old days, back when they first got together, the two Gryffindors seemed to fit perfectly. It was so easy to love Hermione. Ron thought she was flawless...minus the nagging, the disinterest in Quidditch, and the appalling lack of any cooking expertise whatsoever. She treated Ron like there was no one else in the world she would rather be with...most times. Then things changed. By time they finally ended things they were both desperate to preserve their friendship.

If he had to identify when things definitely shifted in their relationship, Ron would always think back on the night that the golden Hufflepuff Cup entered all of their lives. They had just moved into Hermione's after leaving Godric's Hollow. Harry had finally come of age and Remus sent word that the Order of the Phoenix was ready to induct three new members. Of course Ron and Hermione could have long since joined up, but Remus somehow sensed that this was a step that the three friends was unwilling to take unless they did so together.

The ceremony, if one could call it that, took place right in the middle of the Granger's foyer. They had no time for ceremonies or speeches; there was too much work to be done. Muggles and wizards alike were being terrorized at an escalating rate. The papers were putting out death notices everyday. Azkaban had been broken into a few days before and all the prisoners had been freed. The human guards had puncture wounds to the neck and were all dead. The Prophet screamed vampire attack. The whole thing had You-Know-Who's rotten fingerprints, if he still had any, all over it. It was common knowledge that a majority of the vampires were in league with Voldemort now. So were the dementors, most of the giants, a number of trolls, a handful of werewolves, and a banshee or two. It was enough to almost make Ron give up food.

Ron and Hermione had had a small (at least in his opinion) tiff over something before leaving the Hollow , so she wasn't speaking to him the first few days at the new hide out. Then one day, while Harry was off working on his non-verbal spell work with Remus, Hermione came to bury the hatchet. Now was not the time to be holding grudges, she told him. Then she kissed him. He might as well have been goo, he melted. That night she even let him sleep in her bed. Only sleep. When Ron woke up, late as was his way, he found the world a changed place and discovered a Malfoy in the shower as he was trying to take his morning piss. The toe-rag didn't even have the decency to turn his head when he saw Ron doing his business. Ron hated to have an audience for those sorts of things!

Apparently Malfoy had willingly brought them Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. Because he had slept most of the morning in, Ron had missed the git's interrogation. The gist, as Hermione explained to him over a bowl of cereal, was that Malfoy had come across the Cup through nefarious circumstances. He was now turning it over to the Order to save his own sorry arse since Malfoy Sr. was deader than a door nail. Before Ron could get any further details the regular Order meeting was called.

In total there were about forty full-fledged members of the Order of the Phoenix. All of Ron's immediate family, except for Ginny and Percy, had now joined. Shacklebolt had brought in a few more of his fellow Aurors. A couple of their Hogwarts professors had also become members. In addition, Madame Maxime and Viktor Krum, much to Ron's chagrin, were working for them as undercover operatives. However that day's meeting was just a small group of ten. They discussed the conversation that Remus, Charlie, and Kingsley had with Aberforth Dumbledore the night before. It was just sketchy information at best. The Death Eaters were looking to steal something called a boadicea, but apparently were having a devil of a time finding it. No one knew exactly where the hell the thing was.

After the meeting was over, the three best friends retreated up to Hermione's bedroom. Malfoy was tucked away in one of the guest rooms somewhere. As they filed in, Ron threw himself across her pink canopy bed, Harry sat on the floor next to it, and Hermione seated herself at her computer desk which was near the door. Hufflepuff's Cup sat on the desk beside the quietly whirring machine.

"So what do we think this boadicea thing is?" Ron asked, voicing the question that was on the mind of everyone in the room.

Harry ran his hand through his messy black hair.

"Dunno. Maybe it belonged to Ravenclaw? Or perhaps it's tied to Godric?"

"No, I don't think so. I've read every book I could get my hands on about the Founders. That name was mentioned nowhere in them."

Hermione, who had been click-ity clacking away on her keyboard, turned around in her swivel chair to face them. Harry looked at Hermione questioningly.

"Name?"

"I think so," Hermione said. "I know I've seen it...somewhere. I just can't recall."

"Did you try looking at that enternest thinga-ma-jig?" Ron asked trying to sound helpful.

She and Harry just looked at each other and shared a smile. Ron hated it when they did that. Ha, ha! Let's make fun of the bloke who can't use the fellytone properly.

"The only hits I've gotten were for some ancient warrior queen. Back when Rome still tried to control the British Isles she led a conglomerate of tribes in a revolt against Nero. It's very interesting actually. You see..."

"Hermione," Harry cut off her babbling, "does any of this have anything to do with Horcruxes?" Harry asked. Hermione had a tendency to go on and on about things she found interesting, even when others didn't.

She blushed a rosy, embarrassed pink.

"Sorry." She turned back to her computer. "Oh, now this is interesting."

"What?" asked Ron.

"Well according to legend, her body is buried where King's Cross Station is now, under platform 10. There's a connection to Hogwarts somewhat."

"Yes, but not to the Founders. Riddle would want something that belonged to one of them," Harry said pushing his glasses up on his nose from where they slipped down. "If you didn't find that name in any of the books you read that means she isn't linked to them..."

"Which means she isn't linked to him," she finished.

"Maybe she's a Mudblood."

The three teens in the room turned in the direction of the doorway where the voice had come from. Malfoy was standing there, looking as smug as ever. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that Ron recognized as Harry's. Ron noted that the blond looked tons better than he did when Ron first saw him that morning, right after he got over the initial shock of seeing the uppity Slytherin in such casual Muggle gear.

"Granger should know her. Don't all you people congregate somewhere or something?"

Hermione just barely looked at the git before turning back to her computer.

"Good afternoon to you too, Malfoy," she greeted him in an overly courteous tone just barely concealing her contempt. "I wish I could say that I'm surprised to see you up and about so soon, but like a bad knut you always turn up; don't you?"

Malfoy answered her by grabbing his knob. Ron had just been about to murder the tosser when Hermione's voice cut him off.

"Let's just cut this short Malfoy, shall we?" she asked in a bored sounding voice. "Just call me a dirty Muggle so I can call you an inbred idiot and we'll both be done with it."

"You're nothing but trash on my boot-"

Ron had Malfoy in a choke hold and slammed against the bedroom door before the wanker could even finish the sentence. Harry had gotten to his feet as well.

"Ronnie, no," Hermione pleaded.

Ron instantly let him go and sat back down on the bed.

Malfoy was winded, but he wasn't down yet.

"My, my, my, I see that the Queen of all Mudbloods and the Weasel King have finally gotten together. Then again you're so poor," he looked at Ron, "and you're so...shoddy," he said turning to Hermione, "who else would have you?"

Hermione feigned a yawn.

"Goodness Malfoy, if I didn't know better I would think you were jealous."

Ron looked quickly at Hermione. Jealous? Why would Malfoy be jealous of her?

"I wonder why that is?"

Ron didn't understand what was going on, but Hermione's little cat with a canary grin and Malfoy's look of controlled fury told him that he was definitely missing something. One look at Harry told him that he was just as bothered by all of this.

"See here you fat scrubber-"

Harry moved so quick that Ron barely saw it happening. Harry grabbed Malfoy by his shirt collar and flung him towards that other side of the room. Malfoy hit the wall with a loud thud before sliding down the wall in a heap.

Hermione quickly pulled out her wand and murmured, "Imperturbatus."

Harry looked down menacingly at Malfoy as he stood over him. His outside demeanor seemed cool and calm, but Ron could tell that Harry was ready to tear the prat to shreds. Obviously Malfoy could too, the way he looked up at the dark haired boy in fear.

"The Cup, Ferret, what do you know?"

Ron crawled over the bed to sit closer to the action.

"I took it from Durmstrang. Igor Karkaroff had it hid in the Headmaster's quarters."

"Karkaroff had it?" Ron asked in disbelief. "You-Know-Who gave it to him?"

Draco looked at him in disgust.

"And why not? He was once in the inner circle, a loyal follower of the Dark Lord," Draco paused, "like my father."

"But Riddle had him killed," Harry said. "Like your father," he reminded him harshly.

Malfoy for once did not take the bait.

"Of course he did. It was one thing to pretend to have turned to the Light, quite a few of the Dark Lord's followers had done so. But it was another thing all together to lose the Dark Lord's property. That's why Igor the Idiot had been running scared. The Dark Lord had come to collect and Karkaroff had no clue what he was talking about. But one other person knew about the Cup and knew where it was."

"Who?" asked Hermione.

Draco paused for a moment before saying,

"M-my f-father. Igor told him years ago about it, you see. Bragged, was more like it. I think there had been Ogden's involved. The git didn't realize that the Dark Lord had also gifted my father with a prized relic," Malfoy said proudly. "My father later obliviated him so that he not only forgot the conversation, but didn't remember he had the Cup at all either."

"Smooth bastard," Ron muttered.

"When did your father tell you all of this?"

Hermione had taken the cup up and was turning it around and around in her hands. She was looking at Malfoy skeptically.

Malfoy gave her a hard glare before answering.

"Over the holiday break when I last visited him at Azkaban. He told me where it was and how to get it. He wanted to ensure a Malfoy's rightful place by the side of the Dark Lord. I was too busy to get it before though because…"

"…you were too busy plotting Dumbledore's murder."

"But as you and I both know Potter, I did not kill the old fool."

Malice glinted in Malfoy's eyes as Harry held his gaze equally. Hermione tried to break the tension.

"Last night you implied that you knew how to destroy the Horcrux."

"Actually tubby, I outright said it," came the haughty dig.

Ron could tell that Hermione had had about her fill of Malfoy's taunting insults by the way that her eyes started blazing.

"WELL," she wrathfully spat, "IF YOU KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT IT, WHY DON'T YOU STOP TITTING ABOUT AND GET ON WITH IT THEN?!"

"Nice one Hermione!" exclaimed Harry and Ron proudly in unison. Hermione beamed back at them.

"If you all are quite done wanking each other," Malfoy snarled malevolently, "you undo a Horcrux in much the same way you create one."

"You kill someone?!" Ron asked, eyes bulging.

"No, Weasleby. According to all the ancient texts all that is required of you is a sacrifice. You offer up a tributary to show that you are deserving. The Dark Lord just killed people because he enjoyed killing people. That's how he got his kicks."

Harry's jaw tensed at that statement.

"How do you know all of this, Malfoy?"

Hermione continued to drill the arse's story over and over again. It was as if she were looking for the holes in it. Malfoy was starting to get annoyed.

"What's with all the questions, Granger? I already answered them for that crazed bastard Moody this morning."

"Well now you answer her," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"My father told me what to read on the subject."

"So you mean to tell us that Lucius Malfoy not only gave you a means to get in Voldemort's good graces, he also told you how to destroy the very thing?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy lifted his chin imperiously and said in a voice dripping with contempt, "We Malfoys through out the ages have had a long history of playing for both teams."

Hermione held Malfoy's gaze for a moment before she burst into a fit of laughter. She laughed so hard that tears formed in her eyes. For his part, Harry tried to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread across his face. The other two boys helplessly cast confused glances at each other. For perhaps the first time, and more than likely the last, a Malfoy and a Weasley would agree on something. Mental.

"Are you quite done yet, Granger?" Malfoy obnoxiously asked as Hermione continued to giggle. After a bit she finally calmed down.

"Quite done."

"And have I passed the test?"

Once again Hermione stared deep in his eyes and smiled a tight little smile.

"For now."

"Well I'm not convinced," said Harry. "I got rid of Riddle's diary without having to sacrifice anything."

Ron felt a shiver run down his spine at his words. Only four years had passed since that time down in the Chamber of Secrets. He could still taste the fear bubbling in his throat. Fear that he would find his sister dead, fear that he would be next; fear that at any moment he would meet a pair of cold, yellow eyes around the very next corner...

"Blimey, Harry! You killed the basilisk!"

"What?"

"The basilisk, remember? Before you destroyed the diary you killed the basilisk."

Hermione gasped.

"He's right, Harry! That was your sacrifice. And…and Dumbledore must have given his hand in order to break the Ring. You obviously don't always have to kill something to break the Horcrux."

"I see the last knut has finally dropped," Malfoy said snidely, crossing his arms in front of him.

"SHUT UP, MALFOY!"

All three Gryffindors shouted the order at the same time.

Harry looked like he was still digesting the newest information as he asked the git, "How do we get rid of the Cup?"

"You drink from it."

Hermione looked at him, puzzled.

"Drink from it?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter what. Supposedly you drink from it and the rest...happens."

"BOLLOCKS!" Ron shouted.

"Do you really think we're a bunch of idiots, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but what's your point?"

"What do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked turning to look back at her. She had been closely examining the Horcrux.

"There's a tiny bit of lettering on this. It says..."imbibo"?"

"Drink in. It's Latin."

Hermione gave Malfoy a scornful sneer. "I'm quite sure my Latin far surpasses yours any day of the week, Ferret."

Malfoy grumbled something about know-it all bitches. She rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention to Harry.

"Helga Hufflepuff was a renowned potion mistress. Probably the greatest there ever was. She is credited with creating Polyjuice, Veritaserum, Felix Felicis, the Draught of Peace…the list goes on and on." She looked back at the Cup. "It sounds...plausible."

She sounded unsure, though.

Harry looked back to Malfoy.

"Well then, I guess Malfoy is going to be proving his loyalty."

This remark caused the wanker to laugh mirthlessly.

"Not on your life," he said.

"If it's so harmless what could it hurt?"

"The harm is that I'm not the hero in this story. I'm not drinking from that thing. Who knows exactly what kind of sacrifice it expects. It might kill me."

"Ah ha!" Ron exclaimed. "So you admit that you're trying to poison Harry!"

"Just how daft are you?" Malfoy queried. "Do you think that I actually trekked back and forth across Europe, got stalked clear through Teutoburg Forest by a fucking erkling, who obviously didn't think I had enough hair on my balls...BROUGHT THAT FUCKING THING ALL THE WAY HERE TO A HOUSE FULL OF PEOPLE WHO WOULD KILL ME SO MUCH AS LOOK AT ME...ALL SO I COULD TRY TO POISON THE CHOSEN GIT! SORRY, SUICIDE MISSIONS JUST AREN'T MY THING!!"

Malfoy had worked himself into a lather.

"Alright, alright," Harry said trying to shut him up. "Your need for self-preservation makes it unlikely that you are intentionally trying to kill us. But that still leaves the fact that someone has to drink from it."

"Why don't you get Gingerlocks to do it?"

"WHY YOU SLIMEY...NO GOOD..."

"Be a man Weasley and grow a pair..."

"...TWITCHY LITTLE..."

"ENOUGH YOU TWO!" Harry shouted trying to separate the two pureblood young men who had both jumped up, each one ready to thrash the other.

All three boys were so preoccupied that not one of them noticed the girl leaving the room.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Maybe we should try to arrange another Order meeting to figure this out. We'll get McGonagall out here next time; see if she can get some answers out of Dumbledore's portrait. He might have some advice for us. What do you think, Hermione?"

Harry turned to look at her and was baffled for a moment when he didn't find her still sitting at her desk.

"Hermione?"

Ron and Harry's eyes met and the same question were in them. Hufflepuff's Cup?

"Well," Malfoy sneered, "I guess one of you was man enough after all."

Ron made a mental note to beat the living hell out of Malfoy later, but his first instinct was to get to Hermione immediately before she did something dumb. Drastic. Deadly. Harry obviously had the same idea. Both boys tore out of the room so fast that they probably left scorch marks on the carpet. They practically pushed each other out of the way to get down the stairs. Neither of them said anything to the few Order members who were gathered in the living room. They both ran for the kitchen. It was as if both of their minds were working as a single entity. Must get to Hermione! MUST GET TO HERMIONE!

And they both cried out in anguish at the same time when they found their friend's limp body sprawled out on the floor, the cup lying next to her.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

Hermione wasn't dead. Instead she was trapped in some kind of deep sleep. When Madame Pomfrey later examined her that day, after Tonks and Remus rushed off to get her from Hogwarts, the school nurse was at a loss for what to do. Hermione had a high concentration of several potions in her system; The Draught of Death, Wit Sharpening solution, the Calming Draught, Veritaserum, as well as the traces of some unknown potable. Madame Pomfrey was actually shocked that the girl was still alive and inadvertently said as much in front of her two best friends. Oddly enough the substance that Hermione actually drank out of the cup was ordinary soy milk from out of her refrigerator.

When Hermione's parents came back from their vacation the boys helped spirit her from her home to Hogwarts. The school governors had decided against opening the school for the new term so the Order chose to set up shop there next. Even with Dumbledore gone Hogwarts was still the safest place to be. They put her in the Head Girl's bedroom. It seemed fitting. Ron, Harry, and Malfoy were sleeping in the Head Boy's room. Ron barely left her side, though. Harry either. They would take turns sitting with her, holding her hand, talking to her, begging her to come back to them. Ron was convinced that when she woke up his face should be the first she saw.

Of course that isn't how it played out. One night he and Harry were sitting up with Hermione as usual. They were playing chess, but both boys were so glum that neither could tell who was actually winning the game. The chess pieces were ready to stage a revolt over the ill use they were receiving. Ron, thinking that he would play better on a full stomach, decided to make a run to the kitchens. He asked Harry to join him, but his best mate declined. Ron made his way from the South tower down to the bottom of the castle and returned about fifteen minutes later with a plate of Jaffa cakes slathered in chocolate. As Ron opened the bedroom door, the sight before him left him gaping like a cod fish.

Hermione was sitting up in the bed, the spread clutched in her hands to her chest. Her fly-away hair gave her the appearance of a wild, startled animal. The girl looked like any minute she would go into hysterics. Her eyes were filled with terror and tears. The thing that Ron couldn't make heads or tails of was why those alarm filled eyes were locked on Harry. He was halfway seated, halfway bent over her on the right side of the bed. She looked like she was trying to get as far to the left of the mattress as she could. Harry looked properly stunned by her behavior. Ron was so baffled by the scene before him that he dropped the plate of biscuits.

"RONNIE!"

At the sound of the breaking plate both Harry and Hermione had looked towards the door. As soon as Hermione saw him standing there, she started sobbing loudly and held out her arms calling for him. Ron wasted no time getting to her side. He folded her up into a bear of a hug as she pressed her face into his neck. Over and over she cried his name. He met Harry's eyes over her brown head and saw his own bewilderment in them.

"Shhhh...shhhhh...Hermione. It will be alright," he said while smoothing down her hair and dropping kisses into it.

"Yeah Hermione," Harry said taking on the same calming tone as Ron. "You're safe now." He placed a gentle hand on the back of her shoulder.

At the sound of Harry's voice Hermione's form went stiff in Ron's arms. She subtly shrugged Harry's hand off her shoulder as she pulled her tear stained face back from Ron. Neither noticed the shattered expression that Harry wore.

"What's going on, Ronnie?" she asked as her head swiveled around the room. "Where am I? Is this Hogwarts? Why are we at Hogwarts? When did we get here?"

"Well we kind of had to make a run for it when your mum and dad came back home, luv," he tried to explain to her. "But remind me one day to tell you about how me and Harry snuck you out right under their noses. It was brilliant really!"

Hermione's confusion wasn't abated, though.

"But my parents aren't supposed to be home until the end of the month."

Once again he and Harry shared a look.

"Uh...Hermione," Ron said haltingly, trying to find the right words, "see...the thing is...today is the 14th."

"I know that!" she said indignantly.

"No Hermione, it's the 14th of September."

Hermione's eye tripled in size at the revelation. The horror was evident on her face. Although life and time had marched on, she was still stuck a month behind in August.

"Don't you remember anything?" he asked as he lovingly placed a hand on the side of her face.

Hermione lay back against the head board of the bed. Ron could see the thought process work itself out on her face. First it was twisted in confusion, then implausibility. But her features were soon smoothed by realization.

"The Cup," she whispered.

Ron nodded his head.

"The Cup," he answered.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Her brow then wrinkled in worry as her eyes sprang open. She clutched at Ron again.

"What happened to it?" she demanded. "Did I...is it..."

Ron beamed proudly at her.

"You did it! The Cup is now cracked and the gold is completely tarnished. We're not sure, but we think that's a good sign."

Hermione closed her eyes and let out an elated cry at his words. Ron neglected to tell her that the wording she saw on it were nowhere to be seen when he and Harry later inspected it.

"I'm wearing night clothes," she said, lifting her covers slightly and glancing at the long flannel nightgown she had on. "How did I get this on?" she asked suspiciously, looking warily at Ron.

Although her back was turned so she couldn't see it, Harry's face turned the same shade of red that Ron's did.

"Tonks changed you," Ron quickly replied.

Hermione visibly relaxed at the answer.

"Tonks has been great through all this," he continued. "Changing your clothes, switching your linens, vanishing your...um...bed pan. Her and Madam Pomfrey, that is."

He then hit himself square on the head.

"Madame Pomfrey, I should go get her," Ron said as he went to move from the bed.

Hermione grabbed a hold of his shirt and cried out in an agitated, strangled whisper, "NO!"

Ron tried to loosen her claw-like grip.

"Hermione, Madame Pomfrey will want to know that you're awake. Harry can stay with you."

During the whole time Ron had been in the room Hermione hadn't so much as glanced at the other boy. She still didn't, even at the mention of his name.

"NO RON, I WANT YOU!" she shouted. "I WANT YOU TO STAY!"

She was working herself into a frenzy. She started to cry again and pulled Ron's arms back around her. Ron was at a loss for what to do.

"I'll go, Ron," Harry said as he threw a hurt glance Hermione's way. She didn't pay his exit any attention.

After Harry left the chamber Ron decided to climb in the bed with Hermione. At first he was worried that she would put up a fuss, but she seemed to welcome his close presence. He gathered her into his arms and laid her against his chest. He whispered sweet nothings into her hair and rubbed her back. Although her attitude was troubling, Ron couldn't help but indulge in the pleasure of having her in his arms like this. Hermione was never this clingy with him. After a bit, her sobs died down and she pulled away from him again.

"I'm acting like some stupid girl, aren't I?" she embarrassedly asked as she rubbed at her red rimmed eyes.

"No," Ron chided her. "You've been through a heck of an experience. Madame Pomfrey told us to expect some odd side effects if you ever..." came out of it, Ron started to say.

He didn't want to upset her further.

"...when you came out of it."

He wiped a tear from her cheek.

"We were scared for you, Hermione. We didn't know when you would wake-up. I had to force Harry to go to bed some nights, he was so upset."

Hermione swallowed.

"And you? What about you, Ron?"

"Terrified. I thought I was going to lose you."

She grabbed his face in her hands and looked into his eyes.

"You are never going to lose me," she said fiercely. "NEVER!"

Even if Ron wanted to, he wouldn't have disagreed with her. She seemed intent on making sure he believed her. She pulled him into her arms and began to softly cry again. She mumbled the words "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I'm so sorry", over and over. Ron was mystified as to what she would need forgiveness for. Did she think that he was angry at her for trying to destroy the Cup herself? Nothing could have been farther from the truth. He was further befuddled when she asked him the strangest question.

"You know that I would never hurt you, don't you?"

Ron could have cried for the tormented look on her face.

"Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"SAY IT!" she begged him. She was fairly shouting. "SAY THAT YOU BELIEVE ME! I WOULD NEVER HURT YOU! TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW THAT!" a demanding Hermione pleaded.

"Of course I know that!"

"Good," she said resolvedly. "Good," she said again, more to herself. "That's all that matters then. That's all that matters!"

She closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his chest. She rested her hand on his stomach.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. Nothing is ever going to be wrong. I won't let it. Nothing is going to change. I won't let it. I won't let it!"

Her words were thick and drowsy. She sounded delirious. She kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

"Nothing is going to change. I won't let it change. I won't let it! I won't let it! I won't!"

By time Harry and Madame Pomfrey made their way up to the tower Hermione was fast asleep and Ron's heart was filled with dread. Something was wrong. Despite Hermione's steadfast promise that nothing would change, Ron knew that something already had. He just didn't know what yet.

On the outside looking in everything seemed to return to normal. The first morning Hermione was fully awake she didn't speak much, just stayed holed up in the library most of the day. Ron and Harry had to forcibly remove her from there so she would at least eat dinner. The day after that she went down to Hagrid's to see if he was over a summer cold she'd heard had been bothering him. Ron was ready to think that she was back to normal when later that same day she and Malfoy got into a screaming match over house-elves' rights during lunch. She had even begun speaking to Harry normally again. The raven haired young man was terribly relieved at that bit of progress, although he and Ron did discuss the fact that Hermione would not stay in a room if Harry was the only one in it. If everyone else made to leave, she would rush to follow suit. Both he and Harry tried to bring this to her attention, but every time they did she would automatically shut them down on the subject. Eventually things improved further and the Trio was a trio again. Only one thing nagged at the back of Ron's mind. They never knew what Hermione's sacrifice was.

She never told.

Those days seemed almost a dim dream to Ron; hiding away in secret, fearing a dark creature around every corner, fighting against You-Know-Who's unholy reign. But with Hermione by his side, Ron was able to bear it all. Sadly, after the War ended, so did they.

Not all at once, though. No, that would have been too easy. Their relationship instead went through a slow, arduous death.

The first time he proposed was buggered up by bad timing. She had gotten word that her parents had died before she could even give him a yes or a no. That blow sent her into a deep mourning and she broke up with him as a result of it. Ron liked to think he had been sympathetic. That is until she started dating that prat, Roger Davies, a few months later! Of course he was shagging Lavender by that time, but still...

The second time he proposed was at Fred and Glinda's wedding reception. She flat out turned him down that time. He dumped her on the spot and Lav was there to lick his wounds, as well as other things, shortly afterwards. Lavender helped soothe his bruised ego, although Ron thought his heart would surely break when he learned that Hermione had taken up with Wood. It was like she was consorting with the enemy all over again. Fourth Year relived!

The final break-up, however, was amicable and necessary. It had become too exhausting doing the same dance over and over with Hermione. He had Apparated into his and Harry's flat one afternoon and found her on their sofa fast asleep, a book lying open across her chest. Some things never change, he briefly thought to himself, as a smile flitted across his face. It died as soon as he spied the cover of the book. It had a picture of a dark skinned man dressed in sheik's clothing waving a wand at a huge bird that looked like an eagle; a roc. The title was Making Mystic in the Sands: A Chronicle of Enchanted Morocco. Ron scowled as he read it, but smoothed his face as soon as Hermione started to stir.

"Hmm..." she said groggily as she stretched her supine form on the coach and opened her eyes. "Did you just get in?" She was looking at him pensively.

"Yeah, dad wanted to meet up for a pint of ale at the Hag."

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"That place is so unsanitary, Ron."

"Indeed it is. But the bartender doesn't water down the drinks like Tom, and you get a worthy headache for your money."

He winced as he rubbed at his left temple.

"Like now. Been waiting long?" he asked, advancing to her side.

"Not too long. Harry was here awhile, but then Ginny summoned him on that stupid mirror of hers," she said rolling her eyes. "I don't know why he just doesn't tell her that he hates carrying around that thing. It should be obvious why really."

Ron had no idea what Hermione was going on about. What he did know was that Harry didn't care for using his two-way. His best mate seemed constantly (or conveniently, depending on how you looked at it) forgetting to carry it around with him. If Ron had to make a guess he figured that Harry didn't like the fact that his kid sister used the thing like a tracking device to keep tabs on him religiously. Hermione had never been that kind of girlfriend. Truthfully sometimes Ron wished that Hermione would act a little more like that, like Lavender did. Possessive; like he was all she wanted in the world and would fight for him to the death. But more and more Ron had begun to realize that such was not the case.

"I'm surprised you didn't run into him out there. That's where Ginny told him to meet her. According to your sister it would seem that Mr. Potter actually had every intention of wearing last year's dress robes to get married in. The horror!" she said mockingly as she turned the book over on its cover and placed it behind her. None of this was lost on Ron.

"What's that you've got there?" he asked innocently as he sat down next to her.

"A book," she said evasively. She then began to fix and rearrange the items on the coffee table before her. When Hermione got agitated she usually didn't know what to do with her hands. It was a nervous habit of hers that popped up whenever she didn't want to discuss something.

"Well I can see that. What's it about?" His tone was light and even and fake as could be.

"Morocco."

"Gee, what's with the sudden interest in that place? Planning on taking a trip?"

"No," she said as her eyes skirted from him and back to the table. "Just bored. Read everything else."

"I see." He stared at her searchingly for a moment.

His attention must have made her nervous because she jumped up from the sofa and went into the flat's kitchen. When she returned five minutes later, she handed Ron a vial of a thick, khaki colored, mucus-y looking substance; Goyle's Get-up and Go Hangover potion. He and Harry kept crates of the stuff in their cabinet. Goyle might have been a disgusting Slytherin but some how the lunkhead had discovered a hangover cure that was worth its weight in galleons. As Ron drank it down, he couldn't help but gag at the aftertaste.

"Gah! That's disgusting. Sometimes I imagine that I'm still swallowing essence of Goyle," he said as Hermione sat on the table across from him and plucked the vial out of his hand. His mind instantly began to clear.

"Harry became Goyle," she quietly reminded him.

"Whichever."

The potion was doing its work on his drunkenness, but it was doing nothing to dispel the bad mood that was forming.

"So how was your day?"

She sighed. "Busy. I've been running from pillar to post trying to plan Ginny's hen night. She keeps floo'ing me at work making suggestions and she is wearing me thin. Add to that the fact that the Weird Sisters are booked up through the summer, and the caterer that I hired for the reception is an avid Tornadoes fan and thinks that serving at Harry Potter's wedding might spoil his team's chances at the title. I'm ready to jump broom!"

Ron leaned into Hermione and placed a hand comfortingly on her knee.

"Ginny has no idea how lucky she is, having you for her Maid of Honour."

Hermione gave a strained smile at the compliment.

"Well...I guess," she said warily before quickly changing the subject. "I had to run into Mungo's to do some follow up on a case and I ran into Sue. We had lunch. She told me that she and Tony got engaged."

"He finally got her to say yes?" Ron asked in wonder. "Blimey! I'd like to know how he managed that."

Hermione stiffened at the comment and brushed his hand off her knee. Ron silently cursed himself for his thoughtlessness.

"Yes...well...she had to finish up training, didn't she?" Hermione snottily countered.

"Alright, alright. So how long 'til the big day?"

"Some time next year."

Ron's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Why so long? They aren't doing the Rites?"

"Anthony's Muggle-born, remember? His family probably won't care for one of these shot-wand marriages," she answered. "Plus I think Mr. Goldstein is a cantor or some such. Susan said they were planning on something very traditional and faith based. No magical hoopla whatsoever."

Ron leaned back on the coach and closed his eyes. He'd had an exhausting day himself. First his practice session down in Chudley, and then his meeting with his dad had taken a lot out of him. He was a trifle on edge.

"Well I don't see what's so wrong with a little hoopla," he said stubbornly. "The Rites were good enough for my grandparents, and for Perce and Penelope. And it's going to be good enough for that Potter bloke I hear so much about."

"Well," Hermione said frowning slightly, "Susan has also decided to take on another year of training to specialize. She wants to be a natal Healer."

Ron sleepily mumbled something about Susan's head exploding from all of the studying.

"She actually asked me to be in her wedding party," Hermione went on as Ron's eyes opened in mild interest. "I told her that I was a bit wedding'ed out though, what with Ginny and..."

Hermione began rolling the glass vial between her palms nervously as she paused. She seemed to lose her trail of thought for a moment.

"Besides," she finally continued, "who knows where we'll all be in a year's time?"

Ron watched her coolly. "Yes...who knows?"

There was a moment of uneasy silence between them. Ron opened his mouth to break the lull, but Hermione interrupted him in an almost shocking manner.

"Saw Lavender today."

Ron went tense. He didn't like the look on Hermione's face, nor her practiced nonchalant behavior. Hermione made it a point to ever bring up Lavender with him if it could be helped. The fact that she was doing so now made him feel wary for some unknown reason.

"She was having lunch at the restaurant with her husband."

Ron sneered.

"Olde Pye still on solid foods, eh?"

Hermione shook her head in disapproval before asking with steady ease, "Did you know that Lavender was pregnant?"

Ron's freckled face screwed up in bafflement.

"Everyone knows she's pregnant. The Prophet can't seem to talk about anything else. Bloody rag is-"

"Did you know that she was eight weeks pregnant?" Hermione asked, cutting him off.

Ron in fact did not know this. He had seen Lavender a few days before when they had run into each other at the Diagon Alley WWW and he had thought she looked just a wee bit wider than usual. But then Daphne Greengrass' article came out the next day and his question seemed to be answered. Nowhere in the Prophet was it mentioned just how far along Lavender actually was, though.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders as if they talked about Lavender Brown...Pye's health regularly.

"Susan let it slip at lunch. Lavender is seeing Sue's trainer, you see."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Don't you find that interesting, Ron?"

"Maybe."

Silence.

"I mean the woman just got back from her honeymoon and in a few days she'll be showing already," she innocently remarked.

"So?"

"So I'm sure her head must be spinning."

Ron's suspicious nature was on alert. He knew damned well that Hermione didn't give a fig about Lavender Brow...Pye. Her fake, syrupy concern was setting his teeth on edge.

"First you break up with her. Then she marries that poor old man right after. Now? Pregnant. Just like that."

Ron tried to keep his voice calm. "And?"

Hermione turned her head away at his terse question.

"Hermione, is there something you would like to ask?"

She turned her head to face him again, and looking directly into his eyes, asked what she had apparently been stewing on all day.

"Is that your baby, Ron?"

For a moment he actually believed that he hadn't heard the question. But then the blood started flowing towards his ears and face again and he began to splutter.

"Are y-you k-kidding me? No!"

"Ron, she is two months along. Are you actually going to tell me that you didn't get that...that you didn't get her pregnant?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying!"

She scoffed.

"I'm not stupid, Ron."

"But apparently you think that I am!"

Hermione grumbled in disgust and got up off the coffee table. She stomped off towards the kitchen and Ron followed after her.

"Hermione, if I had gotten Lavender pregnant I would have done right by her. I would have married her. Lav knows this."

She dropped the vial in the sink as she sneeringly said, "How noble."

"I'll tell you what; Lavender would have never married Pye!"

She leaned against the double basin sink and folded her arms.

"People do odd things when in love, Ron," she said cryptically.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!" he exasperatedly shouted.

When she didn't answer, and instead turned her back to him, he deflated slightly.

"You're tired. You've had a rough day and you're just taking your anger out on me," Ron said. "Why don't we talk about this in the morning? I need to get out of my practice robes and take a shower. And you need...well...honestly Hermione, I just don't know what the hell you need anymore."

He turned on his heel, prepared to go to his bedroom and rinse away their silly little spat, when Hermione's voice stopped him cold.

"I think," Hermione's voice wavered, "I think we should just end this."

Ron wordlessly reentered the kitchen and stared at Hermione's turned back. Did she just...

"Yes, I think...I think that's what's for the best."

She briefly looked over her shoulder at Ron's querulous face and quickly turned around again.

"I mean really Ron, who did we think we were kidding?"

She began to fiddle with the now broken vial in the sink.

"Actually acting like we could still have a real relationship..."

She firmly set her shoulders.

"We need to stop deluding ourselves."

"Deluding ourselves?!" Ron choked out.

He felt like someone had his heart in one of those Muggle blending machines and had hit purée. His anguish was compounded by the fact that Hermione wouldn't even look at him.

"Obviously we aren't right for each other. Add that to the fact that you would actually lie to me and..."

"THAT'S NOT MY KID!"

"...goes to show that you were never really serious about us. That you could be so irresponsible..."

He was upon her in seconds. He wrenched her around to face him.

"Now you're just being purposely unfair! Even if that were my baby that Lavender were carrying, you and I were not together when it was made. You were still with your little Scotsman, remember?!"

Every nerve in his body felt taut and any moment Ron was sure he would explode.

"Let's just pretend that I had been the one to be so stupid as to get sprogged up," she said as if that were the craziest idea ever. "Would you have taken me back with wide, open arms, Ron?"

He was made speechless by the question. Hermione smirked arrogantly at his dumbfounded expression.

"I thought not," she said.

She pulled forcefully out of his arms.

"I've got just a few things over here," she told him. "I'll just pack them up and be off."

It felt like an eternity that Ron stood in that kitchen alone. It was almost like he was in a trance. End this? Over? Was she serious? He shook himself awake. He walked from the kitchen to his bedroom down the hall. The door was open and he watched Hermione studiously direct objects into a carry bag with her wand; shoes, pictures, various articles of clothing.

Books.

"You meant to pick a fight with me."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't said in anger. Instead the realization of it all made Ron calmer than he had been in weeks.

"Honestly Ron," she said dismissively.

Well that didn't last very long! His calm snapped like a bargain basement wand. He snarled as he marched into the living room, grabbed her book from off the sofa, and reentered the hallway.

"YOU FORGOT SOMETHING!" he yelled, hurling her book across the room.

Hermione's large brown eyes looked like they would pop out of her head as she stared at him. The book had nearly hit her. Ron might curse. Ron might yell. But Ron never got physically violent with her. She was alarmed by this turn of events. But her horror only intensified once Ron began laughing. Hysterically. Uncontrollably. Maliciously.

"I've been such a bloody fool!" he said, advancing in the room. Hermione actually took a step back, the back of her knees hitting his bed.

"You've been looking for a way out of this relationship for weeks! WEEKS! Reconciliation? Ha! What a fucking joke! Why did you even bother, Hermione? Did you feel sorry for me? PITY ME?!"

He was standing in front of her, both of her shoulders gripped in his hands. If he was hurting Hermione her face didn't betray it. Instead she looked just as lost as he felt.

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED, HERMIONE! Oh boy, you must have breathed easy after your lunch today. Susan Bones dropped an escape hatch right on your lap, didn't she?"

"Ron, I don't know what you-"

Ron didn't let her finish her sentence.

"I KNOW ABOUT MOROCCO, HERMIONE!"

He shook her by her shoulders.

"I KNOW ABOUT EVERYTHING! The clandestine lunch meetings, the ibises dropping off parchment after parchment; I know about the bloody job offer!"

Hermione's tear filled eyes nearly broke him.

"Are you going to deny it? Well, are you?!"

His penetrating glare pinned her in place. She tried to escape from his hold, but he was having none of that this time. She was going to answer him, even if he had to shake the truth out of her. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Hermione gave in.

"No," she pitifully whispered.

Ron finally released her and walked to the other side of the room. He didn't even want to look at her anymore.

"H-how...how did you find out?"

He smiled bitterly at her question.

"Dad wanted to meet for drinks to discuss my plans. He wondered just when I was going to tell him and mum that I was planning on moving to Marrakech to be with you. What a joke, huh?" His voice shook.

"Is Arthur terribly disappointed in me?" she asked is a small voice.

"He couldn't be more proud. The youngest Department Head of any ministry? Why shouldn't he be proud? Of course he wished you would have come to him first instead of hearing it from Scrimgeour."

Ron briefly looked towards Hermione and found her sitting on the bed. He turned right back around. It was still too hard to look at that face.

"The git wanted to know why dad was allowing one of his Ministry pets to go scurrying off."

Hermione got off the bed and walked up to Ron's turned back. He seized up in anticipation of what she might say or do. Hermione reached out a hand to touch him, then thinking better of it, let it drop to her side.

"I...I wasn't really going to...I just wanted to know my options. I was going to tell y-"

"Spare me!"

"It's true! I just...it never came out right. But this is such a huge opportunity, Ron. Just picture it, me, the Head of International Cooperation!"

"You're leaving me."

He was hurt and didn't care how pitiable he sounded.

"I...I need to do this, Ron. I need to go away, at least for a little while. I need..."

Her voice choked on a sob.

"This is such a huge opportunity," she finally managed to say again.

Ron laughed bitterly.

"Of course it is. But then I really shouldn't be shocked should I?"

"What does that mean?"

"Did I ever come first, Hermione?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's a simple question. Did I ever come first?"

He turned to face her.

"I mean, there was always something that was put ahead of me. This time it's a 'huge opportunity'. When we were younger it used to be school work. Then there was Krum, and Davies, and the Scotsman! Oh and let's not forget Harry," her breathing hitched, "whatever bloody quest of his you felt was more important than me and my needs!"

"Don't you dare try bringing Harry into this! DON'T YOU DARE!"

"What Herms," he said, emphasizing the name he knew she loathed, "hate hearing the truth?"

Ron smirked viciously, but his face soon melted into a heartbroken expression.

"I gave you my whole heart, but that wasn't enough, was it? All you had left for me were the table scraps."

"Bugger that, Ron! I've heard this same old song one too many times for it to be effective any longer. I nearly let your self-esteem issues affect almost every decisions I made. I ignored what I wanted so everyone else could bloody well be happy. BUT NO MORE!" she scathingly said. "Poor Ron Weasley, always second best. Big bad Hermione broke his heart! Except you weren't too heartbroken to keep from fucking Lavender Brown every chance you got, we're you?"

Ron saw red!

"Maybe because it was never a question that Lavender ACTUALLY WANTED TO BE FUCKING ME!"

Both we're taken aback by what he said. Hermione's knees gave out from under her and she crumpled to the floor, scrambling into the Indian position. Ron felt the proper git for what he had said, no matter how true it was. He came and knelt by her, but she wouldn't look at him. Her breathing came in short, fast pants as she pressed her palm to her chest. Ron was terrified that she was having a heart attack, until she finally started breathing regularly again.

As she began to calm down she finally turned to him and said, "I love you Ron, but...I...I can't do this to you anymore. I can't do this to me. I..."

"Shhhh." He took her in his arms. "I know. I think I've known for a long time."

"I feel like we're in some kind of holding pattern, you know? Continuously moving towards each other and moving back, but never getting anywhere. And I'm so tired. Aren't you tired?"

Instead of answering her question he asked, "So is that it then?"

She pressed her face against his chest and nodded her head feebly.

"And here I thought I'd love you the rest of my life."

She began to sob quietly into his practice robes.

"Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Was I not enough?" He was a glutton for punishment sometimes.

Hermione shook her head.

"No, Ron. Don't ever think that! I'm the one to blame! I'm the one who didn't know what I wanted until it was too late. You're perfect in every way."

He sighed.

"Just not for you."

For a long while they just at on the floor like that, her crying in his arms as he tried to comfort her. Then she broke the silence.

"You can hate me if you want to."

He smiled ruefully at the very idea.

"No I can't."

She began to play with the sleeves of his robes.

"Someday Ron Weasley, just you wait and see, you are going to find a girl that will make you happier than you've ever been. And when you do I'm going to be there to cheer you on."

"Funny, I had hoped that girl would be you," he said while pulling back to look at her tear streaked face as she gazed back at him.

Her voice was tremulous.

"I did too. You'll never know how much. Things would have been so much easier if it was meant to be me."

He began to smooth her frizzy hair around her face.

"I'm never going to stop loving you, you know. I won't! You are always going to be a part of me, Hermione."

She smiled prettily at that declaration.

"I better!"

They remained on the floor for a few moments of comforting silence, Ron still stroking Hermione's hair as he rocked her back and forth.

"So are you going to take the job?"

"I don't...I'm not sure."

"It really is a great opportunity."

"I know," she sighed. "But it's such a scary idea, moving so far away. I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

Ron snickered.

"Hermione Granger is scared of a challenge?"

"Pshaw! I'll have you know that Hermione Granger is scared of a great many things. New witches to befriend, gigantic birds to fend off, scheming jinn hiding inside every bottle…"

She snuggled closer to Ron.

"It's all a bit daunting."

"You can always take the teaching position in Peru."

Hermione drew back from Ron's embrace in shock as Ron's smirk told her that he had heard that bit of gossip too. She smiled guiltily.

"You heard about that as well huh? Well, Deoroverde did make me a very generous offer, but I'm not so sure I'm ready to become a junior Minerva already. Plus my Spanish is rather tragic. At least my French would come in handy until I could pick up the Arabic in Morocco."

"Well, whatever you decide I'm sure your future will be fantastic, even if I'm not in it."

She shook her head sternly.

"Uh, uh. No way. There is never going to be a future of mines without you and…and Harry in it somehow. Never! No matter where I may go, you hear me?"

He nodded. Ron then asked a question that had been troubling him.

"Does he know?"

Ron dreaded the answer. He hated to think that Harry had known about what Hermione had been planning and had not shared it with him.

"No," she answered.

Ron felt relieved, yet also a tad confused. The twins would joke with him that he had the perfect relationship with Hermione. He got to do all the fun stuff with her while Harry got saddled with all of her emotional baggage. Harry was the one that she confided in. Ron always assumed that Hermione just naturally felt more comfortable sharing her troubles with her best friend instead of her boyfriend, even if her boyfriend was supposed to be her mate as well. Ron had always tried his best not to be envious of the relationship that Harry had with Hermione. He thought of it as a fair trade off he had to endure in order to be with her. But it was hard knowing that when the girl you were in love with needed a shoulder to lean on, she turned to someone who wasn't you. Harry was the one person that knew everything about Hermione. But Ron figured he must have gotten that wrong too.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Of course."

He neglected to note the pause she took before she said it.

"Ugh! I just thought of how Harry's going to take this news about us," Ron bemoaned as his brow furrowed in apprehension. "He's going to be so disappointed."

"That's why we are not going to tell him," she stated simply.

Ron was aghast.

"Hermione, he's our best friend."

"And that is exactly why we are not going to tell him."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione kept talking.

"Harry's happy. He's about to...he's marrying the woman that he loves. He's on cloud nine. And he doesn't need the mess we've made of things to muck that up."

"But he'll want to know."

"Exactly. And he'll want to fix it. Because that's who Harry Potter is; Savior of the Wizarding World and Dysfunctional Relationships," she mused. "Harry loves you and I so much that he would take the focus off his own happiness to try and help us, when we both know that there is nothing left to help."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"That we do nothing."

She bit her bottom lip in deep thought.

"We say nothing. We just go on as though nothing has changed. In a few weeks we'll stand up for our best friend...and Ginny. And when that's all done we can tell everyone the truth. Besides my mind reels to think of the spin the Prophet will put on this. Probably paint me as the heartless tramp as usual. No, we will wait until after the wedding."

"But that would be a lie!"

"I prefer to think of it as a non-admission of truth," she said snottily.

"Hermione, you don't lie. Not without good cause."

"AND THIS ISN'T GOOD CAUSE?!" she screeched.

Ron's mouth sank open at the lightning quick change in her temper. But just as fast as it came, her brief flare of rage subsided. Her shoulders sagged and her dark brown eyes misted over slightly.

"Harry has had so little in his life to rejoice over, Ron. I'm not going to take this away from him," she said as her chin slightly quivered. "I won't take it away from him."

The rest of their conversation was ceased by the arrival of the man of the hour. They both heard the unmistakable sound of his Apparition, a loud musket shot, out in the living room. As Ron and Hermione entered the room they discovered Harry draped across the coach lying on his stomach. He looked wrung out. Half of his face was smooched into the sofa and his glasses were hanging partially off his face.

"I'm never getting married again," he mumbled groggily into the cushion. One tired green eye looked at them both.

Ron came to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Sort of is the point mate," he joked, smiling jovially at his best friend. In truth he was putting on a better act than how he actually felt.

Hermione came and sat on the coffee table once again.

"Ginny put you through your paces?"

"I never want to see the inside of Malkin's again as long as I live."

"That bad?" asked Hermione sympathetically.

"Worse! I've never been so pricked and prodded in my life. I Apparated out of the place in protest after her assistant measured my inseam."

This earned an honest to goodness belly laugh from Ron. Hermione, however, was a little slower on the uptake.

"Why would she need to do that if you were only buying robes...ohhhhhh."

This caused Ron to laugh even harder and earned him a peeved huff from her.

"Ginny is going to have my head."

Harry turned over on his back and looked between the two of them.

"So what were you guys up to before I got here? You're all rumpled and...you know, don't answer that question."

Ron chortled. Harry always got uncomfortable at the thought of him and Hermione shagging. He turned to Hermione to share a conspiratorial wink, but instead he caught a mournful expression on her face before it changed into its usual studiousness.

"If you want Harry, I can pick up some robes for you tomorrow after work. I already know your size and what you prefer. I mean, if that's alright with you?"

She rose up off the table, but before she could move an inch Harry extended a long arm and grabbed one of her hands to hold her there. He squeezed it.

"You're a God-send Hermione, you know that? What would I ever do without you?"

Hermione looked genuinely caught off guard at the heartfelt sentiment.

"Yes...w-well...er," she stammered. "W-we won't ever have to worry about that, n-now will we? I…um…th-thirsty!"

Hermione made a mad dash for the kitchen.

Both boys watched her retreating form and were flummoxed by her screwy conduct.

"What's the matter with her?" Harry asked.

Ron figured that maybe Hermione was just now realizing that maybe it wouldn't be that easy to lie ('cause that's what it bloody well was, a lie) to Harry after all. For her sake though, Ron decided to play along with her little ruse. What was the harm?

"Just mental, I guess."

Looking back, Ron always knew that he and Hermione ended things at the right time, while they still loved each other, while they were still friends. Ron loved Hermione back then with all of his heart, but eventually he came to realize that they grew apart because they grew up and became different people from who they were when they first started. Was it the War that changed things? Or was it that after the War there was no grand cause to distract them from their problems any longer?

He wasn't sure. He just knew that for whatever reasons, Hermione closed off a part of herself from him early on in the relationship, and the rest of their years together always felt like he was just sitting outside of the gates, begging to be allowed in again. After a few years apart, Ron realized that he no longer wanted back in.

He sometimes wondered what would have happened if they had kept trying to force something that just wasn't there. If they kept hurting each other in the name of this "GREAT LOVE" that was supposed to be theirs. Would they be married now? Ron shuddered at that thought. Would they be trapped in some stale marriage, barely speaking? Was this what was going on with his sister and Harry now? Or was he just projecting?

Ron had fully accepted that, as far as he and Hermione were concerned, the idea that they were "meant to be" was a crock of shite. Was that the case for Harry and Ginny too? Had they fallen victim to the same damnable lie and were now paying the cost?

Then again they could just be going through a rough patch right now. If any couple was supposed to endure it was supposed to be the Potters. They belonged together, everyone said as much. Ron never quite got why that was, but he did accept it like any other known fact. The sky is blue. Malfoy is a rat faced bastard. Harry and Ginny forever! If they couldn't make a go of their marriage Ron seriously had to wonder if anything in life was ever truly destined. Or could it be that they were all just bodies of matter, hurtling through this life until they collided with another entity that managed to get stuck to them? Was life really that random, Ron wondered?

Once Ron and Violet were all spiffed up and ready to go, he and the little girl headed towards the door. He was holding on to her hand when all of a sudden he felt the energy level of the room shoot up. Someone was Apparating through. In a blink of an eye and the pop of a bottle of champers, Lav stood before their eyes. She looked very fetching in her newly bought robes and her hair was pinned up in numerous swirls and loops that gave her the look of a Grecian goddess. However if the look on her face was any indicator, she was feeling less than grand at the moment. Ron barely had time to open his mouth to greet her before she suddenly threw herself into his arms.

"THEY ARE HORRIBLE!" she wailed, wrapping her arms about him tightly.

As Ron let go of Violet's fingers and took his fiancée into his embrace fully, his little girl scampered off into the direction of his bedroom. He briefly hoped that she wouldn't make a mess of herself before they could get going again. He then turned his full attention to his bride-to-be.

"Shhh...shhh...tell Won-Won all about it," he crooned as he deftly smoothed Lavender's blonde hair, careful not to disturb the careful workmanship of it.

Lavender sniffed loudly as she pulled back from him and wiped at her blue eyes that were rimmed in red.

"Your mum and my mum are going to kill each other!" she cried. "Mother decided that it would be a grand surprise if she had the Elysian cater the party. She didn't even bother to tell me."

"Oh no."

"OH YES! Of course your mum was ready to take her wand to mines. It's the groom's mum who is supposed to host the bloody Commencement! But of course mother acts as though that fact is to be ignored; said that the guests would prefer to eat a more "cultured" fare. She said it to Molly's face! And of course Molly didn't take that well. She said that the Weasleys had no time for people who put on snooty airs. And she looked at me when she said it too, like I had something to do with this whole thing! Your mum hates me now!"

"Shhh…mum doesn't hate you. Mum can just be a bit proud at times, is all. It's a genetic trait I'm afraid."

"Well everyone is just going on and on about what they want, but no one cares what I want," she wailed.

"I care what you want."

Lavender pulled back from him and looked into his eyes.

"You do, don't you? And I care about what you want. Oh I love you so much, Ron!"

She then squeezed him tightly.

"Tell me something I don't know," he said lightly. "Listen, you always look after me, so it's my time to return the favor. We're going straight to the Burrow and make a certain Mrs. Brown and a certain Mrs. Weasley behave. I'll even send them to the corner with threats of no dessert if I have to."

He then drew back to look at her.

"C'mon, let's go."

"Mummy, mummy you're here. That means Kwooksie can come now!" said Violet ecstatically as she ran back in the room with the cat in her arms. She was holding him much like one would hold a large bag of flour. Crookshanks was not amused.

Lavender huffed as she looked down at her little girl and then back to Ron.

"Do we have to take the cat?"

"You know if we don't she'll raise holy Hell. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like being splinched because Vi threw a hissy on the way out," he reasoned.

"Alright, alright, but you take the monster. I don't think he likes me."

"Really?" asked Ron innocently. "What would make you say that?"

Lavender advanced to where Violet was standing. Crookshanks bristled and hissed at her. Lavender looked pointedly at Ron.

"So I'll be taking the cat then," Ron quickly said as he reached down to snap up the orange sack of cat out of his daughter's arms. Violet then began to jump up and down clapping her little hands with joy.

Ron figured that since he would have to take the cat with them he might as well fly over to his old childhood home. He hoped that maybe Harry and the twins would have their brooms with them as well. After the ceremony they might be able to round up a few of their friends and play a pick-up game of Quidditch. It would feel just like old times.

"So Mr. Weasley," Lavender said as she interrupted his thoughts, "are you ready to begin the Rites? Are you sure that I am all you will ever want?"

She was grinning at him cheekily.

As he watched Lavender grab onto Violet's hand, Ron realized that the answer was an emphatic yes. The good old days were nice, but he had a hunch that all that the future could hold might be even better.

"As long as you don't start leaving the toilet seat up," he joked in a sarcastic yet loving tone. "I just hate it when birds do that."

Lavender walked over to Ron, Vi in tow, and kissed him on the lips adoringly.

"Well since I'll have years and years to work on it, I'll try to keep that in mind," she whispered softly as she leaned back.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe some things were really meant to be. Obviously not Hermione and himself, but maybe the universe, in all its infinite wisdom, only waited until the perfect time to make sure that the right two people ended up with one another like it did finally with him and Lavender. If that was the case, Ron figured that maybe it was best if he stayed out of Ginny and Harry's business altogether. He didn't need to interfere. They didn't need his help. If the universe was right about the Potters then there was nothing or no one person in this world that could ever part them.

A/N: Next up is Draco's POV. Things to look forward to: the most unlikely couple has a little rendezvous, Draco and Harry go at it with great big swords, and another piece of the Hermione puzzle gets filled in.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Madam Malkin's assistant are canon.

2) The info that Hermione gives on the historical Boadicea (or Boudica) is accurate.

3) You'll learn more about Hermione's sacrifice and the mystery potion in a later chapter.

4) According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them an erkling is an evil, elf-like creature that eats children.

5) A roc is a gigantic bird of prey found in Middle Eastern mythology.

6) Goyle's Get-up and Go Hangover potion, the Peruvian magic school Deoverde, The Elysian Fields restaurant, and the book Making Mystic in the Sands: A Chronicle of Enchanted Morocco are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.