A/N: Thank you so much for all the feedback you gave me on the last chapter! This chapter is relatively longer than the others. I'm hoping to settle into a weekly schedule for updates. I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Additionally, many thanks to jane_s, who recommended this fic on the rec machine-it was very flattering!)
Chapter Twenty-Six
"Psst!" Katy crawled onto Yasmine's bed softly, prodding her gently in the shoulder. "Yazzy?"
"Hmmf?" Yasmine mumbled, hugging her comforter and rolling over. Katy crossed her legs and peered at her in the moonlight.
"Do you really think we ought to have listened?"
Yasmine yawned and stretched, reluctantly opening her eyes and blinking sleepily up at Katy. "Listened to what?"
"Harry and Hermione. You know, when Harry asked her to marry him."
"I don't know. I think it's all right." Yasmine yawned and rolled over. "Go back to bed."
"Because I was just thinking," Katy said, watching her shadow stretch across the bed in the silvery moonlight, "I was just thinking that was a very special thing, don't you think? Almost too special."
Yasmine was silent for a moment, then she sat up slowly and looked at Katy thoughtfully. "Do you really think so?"
Katy nodded slowly. Yasmine twirled a curl of hair around her finger.
"I suppose you're right," she said quietly, looking down. "I don't know."
They were silent again, both looking (and feeling) very guilty. Katy tugged on her messy auburn braid and looked up.
"What do we do?"
Yasmine thought for a moment.
"We'll be happy," she said at last, "We won't pretend we didn't hear, if they ask, but we don't need to tell. Besides, we are happy for them."
Katy agreed and lay back next to Yasmine, gazing up at the ceiling.
"What do you suppose it's going to be like, when they're married?" Yasmine said suddenly, turning and looking at Katy. Katy reflected.
"I'm not sure. What do you think?" she said. Yasmine sighed and closed her eyes.
"Different," she said at last, "but more like-well, more like a family."
Katy closed her eyes too, listening to the crickets outside the window. After a pause, she whispered back, "Do you suppose that's what we are?"
The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. It felt as though she had said something that no one else had ventured to say yet, and she didn't like the feeling. Uncertainty and hope made an uncomfortable combination, and it felt worse when Yasmine didn't say anything back. Yasmine was the one Katy had always counted on to imagine the future, and if she was afraid to guess at it…
But then Yasmine spoke again.
"We could be. That's what makes it all so horrible to imagine, because if… well… I love them, Katy. Don't you?"
Katy swallowed and squeezed Yasmine's hand.
"Yes. But suppose…"
"Don't say it." Yasmine said miserably, "Don't say it. I can't imagine it. I'd be miserable if…"
"Don't you go and say it!" Katy whispered, and Yasmine fell silent. They lay and stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed and frightened for perhaps the first time in months. The silence was terrible, but both of the girls thought that bursting into tears, as they were close to doing, would be far, far worse.
~*~
"You're a bit quiet today, Yaz," Hermione commented as Yasmine set the table. "Is anything wrong? Oh, dear."
Yasmine had jumped so abruptly upon hearing her name that she had dropped a glass. It shattered and sent glass flying all over the kitchen. An ornery hiss sounded from beneath the kitchen table, and Yasmine felt her throat tighten dangerously when she saw Crookshanks glaring at her with his fur standing up on end.
"Sorry," she said desperately, "I… I wasn't-"
Crookshanks yowled as she accidentally trod on his tail. Yasmine leapt back, and the cat padded out of the kitchen, looking thoroughly incensed, flicking Yasmine with his injured tail.
"Sorry," Yasmine said again, and she was horrified at how miserable her voice sounded. She cleared her throat and tried to smile, but she could not keep a few tears from trickling down her cheeks.
Hermione flicked her wand and picked the newly mended glass up off the floor.
"It's perfectly all right, Yaz," she said kindly, using a hand to brush the tears off her cheeks. "What's bothering you? You don't quite seem yourself."
Yasmine wiped her eyes. "Nothing."
Hermione hesitated, and she knelt down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "This is about the engagement, isn't it? It seems to bother you."
"No, it's not that," Yasmine said quickly, "I think it's wonderful. Really, I do, and I… I just… I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."
Hermione studied her for a moment, then sighed and nodded.
"If you're sure," she said, standing. "You can talk to me about it, you know."
Yasmine said yes, she did know, and smiled just to banish the worried look in Hermione's eyes. She and Hermione talked about Jane Eyre, which was a bit hard for Yasmine to read but she loved it anyway.
"Harry has cousins like that," Hermione said, when Yasmine mentioned John and Eliza and Georgiana, "Well, actually, only one. I don't know what he's like now-Harry said that he seemed a bit better the last time he talked with him-but when Harry was younger, he was a terrible bully."
She waved her wand and sent the top of the saucepan settling over the pan. "Hogwarts was a bit better than the school Jane ended up in, though."
"I suppose no one died of disease at Hogwarts," Yasmine said, putting the last fork in place. Hermione thought for a moment.
"Well, no… not in that sense," she agreed, "in our second year… well, never mind."
"What?" Yasmine said curiously, "You can tell me, can't you?"
"Well," Hermione said after a pause, "I suppose. In our second year, Voldemort opened the Chamber of Secrets."
"What's that?" Yasmine said, coming to stand beside Hermione, "It sounds mysterious."
"Well, it was mysterious, I suppose," Hermione said, though her voice was rather grim, "according to legend, it was created by one of the founders of Hogwarts-Salazar Slytherin. Only his heir could open the chamber-and unleash a monster. It was meant to `purge' the school of… well, of people like me. Muggleborns, half-bloods…" her voice trailed off, and she looked at Yasmine cautiously.
"He wrongly believed that only purebloods were worthy to learn magic," she said, emphasizing the word wrongly. "The Chamber had been opened once before, and… a student was killed-a girl. Her ghost haunts the girls' toilet at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle-that was Voldemort's name before he became-what he was-was the heir of Slytherin."
She paused.
"He was a wizard possessed of an extraordinary power-Parseltongue, or the ability to talk to snakes. Only a Parseltongue could open the chamber, and only a Parseltongue could control the monster-a basilisk. A basilisk is a giant snake with a deadly stare. If a person was to look at the snake directly in the eyes, they would die instantly."
Yasmine felt a chill creep over her, and Hermione gazed out on the kitchen, her eyes distant and lost in memories.
"And… did anyone else die?"
Hermione turned her gaze to Yasmine and smiled quietly.
"No, thank goodness. No one died. Several came close," she said, then hesitated. "If you were to catch an indirect glimpse of a basilisk's eyes-a reflection, for example-you would only be Petrified."
"What… what does that mean?"
Hermione looked down on the stove, and Yasmine noticed her hand tightening around her wand. Her other hand rested on the countertop, and as she flexed her slender fingers, the engagement diamond sent glittering flecks of light across the counter.
"A victim would become as still and as stiff as stone. Never breathing, never blinking, never moving. Alive, but no one could see it."
Yasmine saw something in Hermione's eyes then-she saw a memory flicker in her brown eyes and across her face. She put her wand down on the counter, her eyes fixed firmly on her engagement ring-the three diamonds set in the slender, golden band.
"And this happened at Hogwarts?"
"Yes," Hermione said quietly, "it did, and it was very frightening."
"Did… did you know anyone who…?" Yasmine ventured, and Hermione flinched. But she nodded.
"Yes," she said evenly, "I was one of them."
Yasmine gaped at her. "You… you were Petrified?"
Hermione nodded.
"Harry must have been so upset," Yasmine said softly, and Hermione smiled.
"He visited me in the hospital wing. Madame Pompfrey said there was no point in talking to me-she thought I couldn't hear-but I could. I could hear, and I wanted… very much-to say something back. But being Petrified... you're trapped. The worst part is your mind is awake. And I worried," she said with a forced laugh, "I worried and fretted all the time. You see, Harry… he has the tendency to be in the middle of things, and I couldn't stand not knowing… I knew what the creature was and I knew how the basilisk was getting around-it was using the plumbing-and I had just returned from the library, having figured it out. I warned another girl in the toilet to be careful and we were using her mirror to get around corners, but… that's when I was attacked. Luckily I had a page from a book in my hand with all of the information on the basilisk, and Harry found it. It was when… well, Ginny was taken down into the Chamber of Secrets. Then of course, Harry and Ron went off to rescue her… and they did." She smiled.
"They did it. I remember when I first woke up-that's what it felt like, almost like coming back from the dead-and I was so excited to hear that they had done it, and I literally ran down the Great Hall screaming that they had solved it…" she laughed, looking embarrassed, "it was quite a year."
Yasmine smiled, and she leaned up against the counter, cautiously extending a hand toward Hermione's. Hermione let her take it, and Yasmine ran her finger softly over the cool, gleaming diamonds in the ring.
"Yasmine," Hermione said quietly, "does it bother you?"
Yasmine looked up.
"I think it's wonderful," she said honestly, touching the ring again, "And Katy and Dusty and Adrian and everyone else does too. We think that Harry's the only one we would want you to marry; otherwise it would bother us, I think."
She paused.
"Because if it was anyone else, then you wouldn't love him. At least not as much as Harry. And why would you marry anyone else, anyway?"
Hermione laughed and hugged her, kissing her hair.
"Very practical," she said, picking up her wand and waving it. A knife flew into the air and began slicing up a loaf of bread.
"When Harry and I told you this afternoon," she said after a pause, "I was worried about how you would take it-especially you and Jack."
She pulled out a roll of foil, pausing and looking thoughtful.
"I'm not sure how he feels about it."
Yasmine shrugged.
"I'm not sure he does," she said, recalling the familiar bored expression that had come over Jack's face as Harry and Hermione told the group, "He has a certain look when he doesn't want you to see what he's thinking. I don't think he minds."
Hermione cut the foil into rectangles and lay them out on the counter. Yasmine pulled Jackie's stool over to the counter and watched her place pieces of glistening pink salmon in each rectangle.
"Well, I was hoping all of you could be involved in the wedding," Hermione said, drizzling each piece of salmon with splashes of olive oil. "If you wanted to."
"Of course we do!" Yasmine said quickly, "We all do. Well, at least the girls do."
Hermione smiled.
"I'm glad."
She reached for a bright yellow lemon and began slicing it. Yasmine watched for a minute, then said, "I'm going to go find Katy."
She hopped off the stool and hurried out of the kitchen.
Hermione glanced at the clock, sighed, and quickly drizzled each package with lemon juice. With a wave of her wand,
each piece of foil folded itself over the fish and flew into the oven.
Exactly as the clock struck four o'clock in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Hermione washed her hands and dried them quickly, hurrying to the front of the house and pulling open the door.
"Hermione!" Suddenly, Hermione found it very hard to breathe, and with difficulty, she returned her mother's fierce embrace. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," Hermione said, letting go of her mother and standing aside, "Hi, Daddy-"
She stood on her toes and gave her father a kiss on the cheek.
"Daddy?"
"Hermione," he said a bit gruffly, "how are you?"
Hermione bit her lip.
"I'm fine," she said softly, "thank you for coming."
He made a quiet noise from deep within his throat, and he looked strangely restrained, as though he were struggling to remain silent.
"Isn't this the loveliest house, Howard?" Mrs. Granger beamed as she gazed around the foyer. "So roomy!"
"Difficult to maintain, I suppose-I hope that… that man…can handle it," said Mr. Granger, in a very odd, disjointed sort of way, as though each word were being jerked from him forcibly. Hermione sighed.
"Harry helped restore the house, Daddy," she said patiently, "In fact, he's the one who bought the house for me."
Mr. Granger scowled and fell silent.
"Daddy, please," Hermione said pleadingly, "be polite-and do behave, Mum. I don't want you `entertaining' us with `amusing' tales from my childhood."
"Really, Hermione, the way you speak about it, you'd think we lived for your embarrassment," Mrs. Granger said airily, "we'll do our best, won't we?"
Hermione's father merely grunted.
"Oh, stop it, Howard!" Mrs. Granger said, swatting her husband's shoulder, "You look like Neanderthal, glowering like that."
There was a loud crack, and Mrs. Granger squealed shrilly, cowering behind her husband, who was looking around wildly, fists clenched and raised, as if he were expecting a madman to jump out and attack him.
"Oh… hello." Harry said awkwardly, and Mr. Granger jumped, whipping around and raising his fists higher. Mrs. Granger peered around his shoulder nervously, her hands trembling on his arms.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, "I… didn't mean to-"
"He just-he just-" stammered Mrs. Granger, pointing a shaking finger at Harry.
"Where's your gun?" Mr. Granger demanded loudly, glaring at Harry with an almost relieved sort of fury, as if he had wanted Harry to prove himself an experienced and thoroughly evil serial killer.
Hermione covered her face with her hands with a groan.
"He hasn't got a gun, Daddy," she whispered through her fingers, "this is Harry."
"Oh-right-I… I didn't recognize you!" Mrs. Granger said in a very high-pitched voice, "Well-it's certainly nice to… to see you-"
"Hello, Mrs. Granger," Harry said uncertainly, "Er… how are you?"
"Very well, thank you!" Mrs. Granger squeaked, "And do you like appearing and disappearing? Is it a hobby?"
"Er… no. It's… the way I get around," Harry said, casting Hermione an uncertain glance. Hermione still had her hands over her face, shaking her head slowly.
"Oh! Well, isn't that lovely!" Mrs. Granger looked rather unsteady; she clutched Mr. Granger's arm and took a few shaky steps out from behind him and forced a tremulous smile. "And… and is this a talent of yours?"
"Not really," Harry said, "Hermione can do it, too. Er… most wizards learn how to do it at school."
"Oh! Really!" Mrs. Granger said, looking very white, "That's… that's very nice, isn't it Howard?"
"Why don't you come and sit down in the kitchen, Mum?" Hermione said wearily, finally lowering her hands, "Come on, Harry-"
Harry started to follow her into the kitchen, then noticed the Grangers staring at him with pale, expectant faces.
"Aren't you going to… to do that… thing?" Mrs. Granger questioned nervously. Harry shook his head.
"It's a bit like driving," he explained kindly, "you don't have to Apparate everywhere; it's only if it's too far to walk."
"Oh," Mrs. Granger looked very relieved and managed another smile, "that makes sense."
"Do sit down, Mum-you look as though you're about to faint," Hermione said, and Mrs. Granger sank into a chair at the kitchen table. Seconds later, she had let out a squeak and jumped up, grabbing her husband's arm again.
"Oh-Crookshanks!" Mrs. Granger said shakily, bending down and stroking the old cat's back. Hermione shook her head, sighing.
"Sit down, Daddy. Harry's not going to pull out a gun," she said patiently, "When you Apparate, it makes a sound. That's all."
She placed a glass of butterbeer on the table beside her mother.
"Here. Drink this."
Mrs. Granger eyed it nervously. "This isn't a… a potion or anything, is it?"
"No, Mum," Hermione said with a sigh, "It's butterbeer."
"Oh," Mrs. Granger smiled with relief, "I've had this before, haven't I?"
She sipped at it cautiously, gave another smile, and put it down on the table.
"Well, Hermione," she said in a voice of a woman interrogating a naughty child, "I must say it surprised us when you called about this… about your… engagement. I certainly didn't see it coming! And Howard didn't either-for goodness' sake, Howard, sit down-and you're so young! But I'm sure you realize what you're doing…?"
She looked at Hermione expectantly, and she cringed, casting Harry an apologetic look.
"Yes, I do, Mum," she said firmly.
"I mean to say," Mrs. Granger said with an airy laugh, "you haven't got any reason to rush…?" and she allowed another expectant pause.
Hermione turned pink.
"I'm not pregnant, Mum," she said, keeping her voice even and pleasant with a great effort, "Harry asked and I said yes. That's all there is to it."
"Oh, of course," Mrs. Granger said, though she seemed to sigh with relief. "And I'm sure you gave it thought? Goodness knows when Howard asked me…"
"It was," Hermione said evenly, "possibly the best decision I have ever made."
There was a pause.
"Well, I'm sure Harry is very glad that you agreed." Mrs. Granger said at last, with an expectant smile in Harry's direction.
"Glad doesn't tell half of it, Mrs. Granger," he said softly, and Hermione felt herself blush pleasantly as his green eyes settled on hers. Neither noticed the Grangers exchanging glances.
"And what is your line of work, Harry?" Mrs. Granger said, breaking the silence. "I seem to remember Hermione mentioning some sort of… organization?"
"The Defense Association, also known as `Dumbledore's Army'." Harry said, grinning at Hermione, "Hermione and I started it back in our fifth year, actually. It was her idea."
"Oh, yes, I remember that," Mrs. Granger said, sipping her butterbeer appreciatively, "and what exactly does it do?"
"It's meant to teach wizards how to defend themselves from Dark Magic," Harry said, "as well as educate them on basic… first aid, sort of. Things you might need in a pinch."
"And what does that entail, exactly?" Mrs. Granger seemed genuinely interested, and Harry good-naturedly answered her questions. As he did, Mr. Granger motioned to Hermione, and she followed him into the foyer.
He pulled open the front door. Obediently, Hermione followed him out onto the front porch, and having shut the door, he turned to face her.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he demanded in a low voice, his gaze fierce, "Do you know what this means?"
"Yes, Daddy," Hermione said quietly, "I do."
He gripped her shoulders and drew her closer to him, his eyes still fixed on hers. "I don't think you do, Hermione. I honestly don't think you do."
"Daddy-"
He turned away, pacing back and forth on the porch, obviously struggling for words. He was running his hand through his thin, graying brown hair, his lips pressed together tightly, and Hermione felt tears rise to her eyes.
She could still see the dark birthmark on his neck, the one she had traced with a small finger as she sat on his lap in the evening, and she could still smell that distinctly minty smell on him, the one that came from working all day in a dentist's office. She could see him rubbing his chin as he worked on the crossword, the way he would fix her with a serious look and let her help… and how he would sit and listen to her guess and reason at the answers to the crosswords he had made especially for her, and how he would leave a riddle on her dresser in the morning and come home to see if she had solved it. And how he would listen to her explain her reasoning, how she had solved it, every word.
And she wanted to explain. She wanted so much to explain the ring on her finger, the way she loved Harry, why she had said yes.
But all she could whisper was a plea.
"Daddy, please."
"Do you realize there is a young man in that house who thinks you are going to be his wife?" he said, the words coming hard and sharp, "Do you even realize what that means for you?"
"Daddy-"
"He thinks he is going to marry you! Do you know what that means?"
"Yes!" she burst out, her voice breaking as she moved in front of her father, stopping his pacing, "I know, Daddy. I know."
"Marriage is forever, Hermione," he said through gritted teeth, stepping back from her and gazing at her, and she was appalled to see his eyes were wet, "Forever. What does that mean to you, Hermione? Do you even realize…"
He broke off and whirled away.
Hermione gazed helplessly at his back, and she felt tears trickle down her cheeks.
"Daddy?" she whispered, "Daddy, please."
The words made her feel much, much younger, and she suddenly recalled a memory from long ago. There had been a storm, a
long, powerful, dark thunderstorm, and lightning had slashed the sky, and the howling wind had rattled the windowpanes
so strongly that Hermione had fled to her parents' room. At first they had only murmured assurance, then told her
to go back to bed, but she had begged and pleaded, directing her pleas toward her father-and finally he had relented,
and swept her up into his arms, and let her snuggle into him until the storm had passed.
His jaw was working hard, and she could see him struggling… with words? It couldn't be tears. It couldn't be. Her father never cried. Her stoic, quiet father. The one she loved so much.
Suddenly, he had turned around, and his arms went around her roughly, tightly, and she was crying into his neck as an autumn wind swept around them. He was stroking her hair, holding her tightly, as though she were about to fall.
"I didn't realize that when I let you go on that train-I was losing you forever," he whispered hoarsely, "My little Hermione…"
"You're not losing me, Daddy," Hermione whispered, "You're not."
"But I am-I did. The moment you stepped onto that train... you had left us behind for a different… a different world," he tightened his embrace around her, "We were the world you left behind, Hermione, and I always wanted to run to that train and pull you back-I knew as long as you were at school, I still could. I could bring you back to being the little girl reading books at the corner of my office, the little scholar who pored over the crossword and loved riddles-but that ring on your finger has made sure that I can never get that beautiful little girl back."
He drew back and gently wiped the tears from her face.
"Instead," he said softly, "I have a fiery, intelligent, strong, beautiful woman who has given herself away to a world that I can never understand." He paused, pressing his lips together and obviously attempting to restrain the tears in his eyes, "And devoted herself to a young man who will keep her there."
He bent and kissed her forehead.
"Forever may not scare you, young as you are," he paused, and with great difficulty, he said quietly, "but it terrifies me."
"Daddy," Hermione whispered into his sweater, "Oh, Daddy. I love you so much-I love you-"
And as he bent and cradled her against him, she could feel him shaking. She clutched at his sweater-the green wool sweater that he always wore on visits, the one that she had always said was too itchy to wear more than a minute or so-and she cried.
"You'll have to forgive me if I… don't always act kindly toward your… toward Harry. It's a very difficult thing to realize that you're no longer the only man in your daughter's life," he said at last, drawing back and using a handkerchief to wipe the tears away from his eyes. Hermione laughed tearfully and scrubbed at her eyes.
"You'll like him. I know you will."
"Perhaps after a good long while," he said, with a forced smile, "You love him, don't you? There has to be something good about him for you to deem him worthy of your attention."
"I'm surprise he deems me worthy of his," she laughed, twisting her ring around her finger.
"Hermione?" Harry opened the front door, "Your mother wants you and your dad inside." He paused, "Er… specifically, Mr. Granger, she said that if you were trying to steal Hermione back, she would personally ensure that dinner included turnips and beets for the next month."
Mr. Granger cringed.
"Madwoman," he said dryly, "Turnips and beets aren't fit for human consumption."
"They're good for you," Hermione said sternly, and Mr. Granger snorted.
"Steal this one back?" he said with a mock scowl, "You can have her. She's learned too much from her mother."
Harry grinned.
"Don't you start grinning at me, Potter," Hermione scolded, "I know exactly why Katy never finishes her vegetables, and if I catch you slipping asparagus onto her plate again-"
"Katy hates asparagus," Harry said innocently, "I've talked to her and she just won't eat it. Maybe we should try a different vegetable, Hermione…"
"Not a chance," Hermione said, marching past him and into the kitchen.
"Granger women are a very stubborn lot. I hope you realize that." Mr. Granger said wryly, "Though judging by the look on your face, it's come as a bit of a shock."
"Oh, I knew she was stubborn," Harry said, "I just didn't realize that extended to making me miserable."
"Welcome to the life of a married man, Mr. Potter," Mr. Granger said, "and it gets better… or worse. I hope you're ready for it. Hermione has it in her mind that she's going to marry you, and unfortunately, that means I can't stop her. So marry her you will. If you make it to the altar, that is."
He gave Harry a very cheerful smile.
"And you had better hope I let you get there."
He clapped him on the shoulder and hurried back into the house, "Yes, Helen! I'm coming!"
Moments later, Ron had Apparated to the front of the house, and he found Harry staring blankly out onto the lawn, which was covered in bright scarlet and gold leaves.
"What's up with you, mate? I expected you to be a bit more… cheerful."
"Well, Mr. Granger is, and I have no idea why. And for some reason, that terrifies me." Harry said blankly. Ron shook his head sympathetically.
"The in-laws. I've heard they're awful."
"Mood swings. He has mood swings." Harry said miserably just as Hermione came back out of the house. "Hermione, your dad is going to murder me before you make it down the aisle."
"He does not have mood swings." Hermione said defensively, "He's just… temperamental."
"That's the same thing." Harry said pointedly.
"Oh, all right, so he's a bit cross," Hermione relented, looking as though she were about to launch into a defense of her father's behavior, but Harry interrupted her.
"No, he's not, and that's just it. He was… smiling at me."
Hermione blinked.
"He-was?" she blurted out in surprise. Then she gathered herself and said briskly, "Of course he was; you're marrying me. Why wouldn't he smile at you?"
"Because he kept trying to kill me with his eyes for the first hour that I knew him?" Harry said, and Hermione shook her head.
"Well, perhaps he had a change of heart," she said, "Ron, what are you doing here?"
"Wow, Hermione, it's great to see you too!" Ron said sarcastically, "It was so good of you to invite me to dinner yesterday!"
"Oh. Right. And… and Ginny." Hermione looked oddly unsettled, "With my parents. Right. That's no trouble at all… I'll just… right. Come on in, you two… and Ginny, is she coming?"
"Are you kidding? She was driving me mad, asking me to tell her if you'd proposed."
"And you told her?" Hermione demanded, looking horrified.
"What do you take me for? `Course I didn't tell her!" Ron said, offended, "You can tell her yourself!"
"Speaking of which," Harry said, "what would you say to letting Ginny brood over it for a good month or two?"
"I'm all for it." Ron said happily.
"I'd love to let her curiosity fester for months," Hermione said, "But really, she wouldn't give up. And… well…. I'm sure she-means well. Deep down."
"Very deep down," Ron said, and the other two nodded in agreement.
"She's going to get very hurt someday." Hermione said with weary concern.
"That's right, she will-someday my resolve is going to crack," Ron said, "And I'll Bat-Bogey her out the window-"
"I meant," Hermione said with a rather annoyed look at Ron, "she's going to be wounded emotionally. She's lonely."
"Ginny? Lonely?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow, "I dunno. That's pretty far-fetched."
Hermione snorted.
"This coming from the man who is dating Luna Lovegood."
"There's nothing wrong with-"
"There's nothing wrong with Luna," Hermione finished with a sigh, "of course there isn't. She's just… very-gullible sometimes. Or most of the time," she added under her breath.
"Nah. It's Neville that's gullible." Ron said, snorting with laughter, "Fantastic bloke, him, but sometimes…"
"He's not like that anymore," Hermione said hotly, "and he was always very intelligent and kind. Even before the war. He was just…"
"Dead clumsy." Ron said bluntly, "Looks like you have competition, Harry-ouch!"
Hermione smiled sweetly as Ron nursed his shoulder.
"Oops. How clumsy of me," she said innocently, "I was aiming for your nose."
"Ha ha." Ron said grumpily, gingerly rolling his shoulder. "Where did you learn to punch like that?"
"Neville," Hermione said simply, "He's in charge of the hand-to-hand combat division of the D.A."
"Really?" Ron looked at Harry in disbelief. "Neville?"
"He killed Nagini, mate. He's no coward." Harry said reasonably, "Fact is, he can take Kingsley and I put together when it comes to hand-to-hand stuff. Wizards usually neglect that area, so it would pay to have some training there."
"Wow. Who would have thought? Neville." Ron said, looking impressed, "I'm going to have to come to more of those meetings."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You mean you're going to have to come to your first meeting," she said dryly, and Ron looked defensive.
"I've been in conditioning all summer. Now that the autumn is here…"
"You'll be traveling around England going to matches." Hermione finished, making Ron's ears go a bit red. "Oh, honestly, Ron. We're not going to kill you for not coming. We know you've been busy."
"Well, yeah," Ron looked slightly relieved, "Though I dunno how many matches I'll have to go to, seeing as the team hasn't won more than six matches in any given season since… a long time."
"We'll be rooting for the Cannons anyway," Harry said, "There's nothing like losing together-ouch! Hermione!"
"I think Harry means that we're sure you'll go far beyond what anyone expected," Hermione said, nudging Harry in the side. Harry rubbed his shoulder ruefully.
"Yeah. Of course I did."
Ron chuckled. "It's okay, Hermione. Harry's got it right."
He scratched his nose and came to stand beside the other two.
"Nothing like losing together," he said, leaning up against the railing. Harry slid an arm around Hermione's waist and kissed her hair.
"Together," Ron repeated, "We've got it all down, mate. I win games, you fight evil, and Hermione makes sure neither of us die in the process."
Harry and Hermione laughed.
"Just like always." Harry said, and there was a moment of comfortable silence. The leaves rustled as they swirled to the grass in bright swirls of color.
"It's funny," Ron said, with a thoughtful look at the other two, "I would have thought you two getting married would change a lot. But I don't think it will."
"Oh, it will," Hermione said reflectively, "it's just that we're changing all at once, and we're doing it together. It's less noticeable like that."
"You're right, of course," Harry said. "When were you ever wrong?"
"Oh, I don't know," Ron said, "Maybe when she told me that you thought of her like a sister."
"You did?" Harry said, and she shrugged.
"It was true, then."
"Well… not really. You were my best friend, so I suppose the potential was always there… you still are my best friend."
She smiled, and he kissed her softly, quickly.
"Better that best friend than this one," Ron quipped, making them laugh again.
"Come on in, both of you." Hermione said, opening the door and motioning them inside. "The food is almost ready."
"Brilliant! I'm starving." Ron said eagerly, and Hermione shook her head, smiling.
"Some things never change."
He bent and kissed her softly, brushing his hand against her cheek lightly as he did.
"And some things change for the better," he said softly, and she smiled, closing her eyes briefly.
"Yes. For the best."
A/N (2): I hope you enjoyed getting to know Mr. and Mrs. Granger! And there are little hints of what's coming next. They aren't exactly subtle, though. Feel free to speculate!
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