Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Hey guys! As I mentioned in the last chapter, a very considerable time jump has taken place in this one. The jump is more for the sake of getting to the canon epilogue so I can finally throw all caution to the wind and move the back-plot along. Oh, and for those of you who have not read my one-shot "The Letter," I suggest you do it now before beginning this chapter, as it will be brought up briefly towards the end. Or after would probably be fine too. The full contents of the letter are in that one-shot, so I won't bother including it here as well. Also, just a note, I think including Hermione as a member of the Wizengamot is the only liberty I've taken with her career path as described by JKR. She is supposed to have a "high-ranking" position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and this fits that description, so I went with it.

So I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! Please continue to do so and Happy Easter!

Chapter 44: A Beginning and An Ending

August 31, 2016

Harry almost fell from his broom as a particularly hard throw of a Quaffle knocked him off balance.

"Come on, Dad! I thought you were supposed to be good at Quidditch!" James shouted, his shaggy black hair whipping about in the brisk wind.

"Just trying to even the playing field," Harry yelled back to his eldest son, angling his broom toward the assigned goal of the Burrow's makeshift Quidditch pitch. "If I let all my prowess come out at once the other team wouldn't stand a chance."

"That's the point, though - to make sure the other team doesn't stand a chance."

"But where's the fun in that?" Harry quipped, speeding his broom towards the end of the pitch.

"Winning!" James said with a grin, evading Teddy and Hugo with relative ease.

Harry threw the Quaffle towards James and he snatched it from the air, hugging it to his side as he raced towards his brother, who was the acting Keeper for the opposite team.

Albus seemed to grimace at his brother's quickly approaching form. Harry watched as James zoomed in closer to the hoops, Teddy and Hugo in hot pursuit. Before either could catch him, James hurled the Quaffle forcefully towards the left hoop. Albus managed to zip over and catch the ball just before it entered the hoop, but the force of it almost sent his small frame through the hoop instead.

"Good one, Al!" Rose shouted from the other end of the field, where she was also Keeping.

"You looked nervous for a second there," James said. "And you're not supposed to compliment the opposing team!" he added in a shout to Rose.

"That wouldn't be very sportsmanlike," Rose called back. "You're just sore that he blocked another one!"

"Hey, I've gotten as many as he's blocked," James grumbled.

"How about we just say you're both excellent players and call it a day?" Harry said.

Despite his somewhat scolding tone, Harry was truly quite proud at how adept they were at Quidditch. James was shaping up to be an impressive Chaser, while Albus had shown a good instinct for Keeping. And while Hugo hadn't quite developed enough grace to determine if he'd be a help or hindrance to a Quidditch team, Rose's innately observant nature gave her a natural ability for Seeking (a fact that never ceased to please Harry).

"Ruddy brilliant if you ask me," Teddy said. "Toss it here, Al."

Albus threw the Quaffle to Teddy, who caught it and began bouncing it between his palms. Teddy was a decent Chaser as well, although he had decided against playing for the Ravenclaw House team during his seven years at Hogwarts.

"So are you going to try out when you get to school?" Teddy said.

James paled slightly at Teddy's question, and gave a small shake of his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Not this year, at least. I don't think I'm good enough for the House team yet."

"If you're fishing for compliments it's not going to work," Albus said.

"I'm not!" James said defensively. "I know I'm pretty good, but I don't think I'll be able to compete with a bunch of sixth or seventh years!"

"It's still worth a shot," Harry said. "You should try out anyway. Even if you don't make the team, you'll still be in the players' radar for next year."

"That's easy for you to say, Dad. Not everyone can make Seeker in their first-year without even trying out," James said.

"He's got a point," Teddy said, sweeping his teal bangs away from his eyes.

"Are we going to keep playing or not?" Hugo asked, clearly tired of such talk.

"Sure, Hugh," Teddy said, and threw the Quaffle towards him. The young redhead made an ungainly catch. "Go see if you can make a goal on Rosie."

Hugo nodded eagerly and immediately sped off towards his sister.

Unlike Albus moments before, Rose seemed unperturbed at the sight of Hugo hurtling towards her. But, unlike Albus, Rose clearly didn't care whether her brother made a goal or not. Although she was fiercely competitive in most situations (unsurprising given her parentage), Rose knew she was an unexceptional Keeper. As a result, she was often more pleased at Hugo scoring on her than managing to block a Quaffle through what would most likely be luck.

When Hugo was close enough, he feinted toward the right. Rose darted in the same direction, and Hugo threw the ball threw the left hoop.

Hugo gave a whoop of pleasure as James shook his head.

"Al gets to Keep on my team next time," he said.

Rose shrugged. "No skin off my back. I hate being Keeper."

She started to drift down to the ground to collect the ball, and Harry saw that Lily stood on the rain-drenched ground holding it in her arms. To Ginny's dismay, Lily had little inclination towards Quidditch, and had spent the last hour or so entertaining herself with a few of the presents she had received days earlier for her eighth birthday.

"Mum said dinner's almost done!" she yelled.

Hugo gave another whoop at his cousin's announcement and flew to the ground immediately, closely followed by Harry and the other players. They quickly tossed their brooms aside and cleaned their muddy feet before entering the kitchen, where Ginny was busily stirring a pot of stew and looking very much the younger counterpart of her mother, who was just as busily chopping vegetables between intermittent checks of the bread in the oven. Both their faces were flushed from the heat of the stove and the unseasonably warm weather.

"Good, you're done with the game," Ginny said. "Al, could you and Rose get some plates and go set the table? And Hugo, grab the silverware and napkins. You can take out the pitchers, James."

The kids promptly set about their instructions and had soon exited the kitchen.
"What about me?" Lily said, bouncing on the balls of her feet and causing her vibrant red hair to swish about.

"You can start taking out some glasses, sweetie," Ginny said.

"Okay," Lily said, immediately grabbing two glasses from the counter. She frowned as she noted the ten other glasses that still remained, but the frown was quickly exchanged for a smile as she looked entreatingly at Teddy.

"Could you help me with these?" she said sweetly.

"Why of course, Lilypad."

Teddy pulled his wand from his pocket and gave it a small wave. The glasses lifted upwards, hovering obediently over the counter.

With his free hand, he gestured courteously to Lily. "After you, miss."

Lily immediately marched through the door, holding her two glasses aloft as Teddy followed, the line of glasses floating in single file behind him.

"And what would you have me do, m'lady?" Harry said as soon as the duo was out of sight.

"I don't know," Ginny said, wiping at her brow with the back of her hand. "You could help Mum with those vegetables or something. We've got everything mostly under control now."

"Here, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, handing him the knife she had been using to slice tomatoes and cucumbers. "I really need to get the bread out of the oven…"

"So what happened to Hermione and Ron?" Harry said as Mrs. Weasley bustled past him. "I thought they were helping out."

"Oh, they were," Ginny said irritably. "Helping me get a bloody headache."

"They were having a few disagreements," Mrs. Weasley said mildly, stooped down in front of the oven.

"About what?" Harry asked, chopping the vegetables up into chunks that little resembled the neat slices Mrs. Weasley had prepared.

"I have no idea," Ginny said. "Just a lot of snide comments exchanged on both sides as far as I could tell. They weren't exactly in high spirits when they came in the first place. They're off somewhere finishing their row."

Harry frowned as he finished his task and scooped the vegetables into a bowl of lettuce Mrs. Weasley had already placed before him.

He was painfully aware that the last few years had been taxing to Hermione and Ron's relationship, privy as he was to both of their feelings. As the mutual best friend, Harry was informed regularly of the small attempts on either side to bridge the gradually widening chasm between them, just as he was frequently called upon for advice or encouragement when the attempts fell short of their goal. Unfortunately, his counsel could extend only so far, and he often left such conversations with a cord of misery twisting about in his stomach at the thought that he could very well be witnessing the disintegration of not only his best friends' marriage, but of their friendship as well.

He was pulled from his reveries as James, Hugo, and Lily came bursting back into the kitchen in the usual manner of children-that is, by creating far more noise than the act required.

"Is dinner ready yet?" James said immediately. "Because I'm famished."

"Me too," Hugo said, picking up an empty bowl from the counter and holding it to his ear. "Wow, I think I can hear my stomach roaring!"

Ginny rolled her eyes as she gave a snort of amusement. "You are so like your father."

"And dinner will be ready in a moment, dears," Mrs. Weasley said.

"How long is a moment, exactly? I need details-a minute, five minutes, ten minutes?" James asked.

"James, it'll be ready when it's ready!" Ginny said. "Just go outside and be patient."

James leaned against the counter in a show of fatigue. Hugo and Lily followed his example, slumping their shoulders in exhaustion. "I don't know if we'll be able to make the walk," he said.

"Oh, you three get out of here," Mrs. Weasley said. "You can take a roll to hold you over."

The three children instantly perked up and dashed forward to snatch the rolls from the proffered basket.

"Thanks, Gramma!" they said in unison.

"You're welcome, dears. And take a roll out to the other two as well. Oh, and a third for Teddy."

James immediately seized the extra rolls and led the way from the kitchen, already stuffing his own into his mouth.

"Those rolls better make it out to Al and Rose!" Harry shouted after him, although he was fairly certain the slamming door had drowned out his warning.

"I swear, that boy acts more like Ron than you half the time," Ginny said to Harry, shaking her head but smiling in amusement nonetheless. "You'd have thought he'd get more of your temperament."

"A decade sleeping in a cupboard might have something to do with it," Harry said. "Do you think an hour or two in one would mellow him out a bit?"

A sharp punch to the arm announced Hermione's arrival.

"That's not even remotely funny," she said, frowning.

Harry held up his hands in defense. "Sorry, just a joke."

"About something we'd all rather not be reminded of," Ginny said firmly before turning towards Hermione. "So did you and Ronald finish off your little spat?"

"I don't know," Hermione said calmly, taking it upon herself to doll the stew into a serving dish. "Why don't you ask him? He's probably pacing about in the front yard."

"I'll take that as a no, then," Ginny said, taking Hermione's cue and gathering up the salad.

"I suppose I'll let him and Arthur know dinner's ready," Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh. "Harry, would you take out that bread, please?"

"Sure," Harry said, promptly picking up the basket.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, removing her apron as she bustled from the kitchen.

"Now, be prepared for the likelihood that our children will be passed out from hunger," Ginny said to Hermione as they also turned to leave the kitchen.

"Or at least for the likelihood that Al and Rose are, if James had anything to do with it," Harry said.

Luckily, all five children were quite conscious when they arrived and fell upon the food like rabid wolves as soon as Ron and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had joined them. Before long, the first helping had been devoured and a slightly more sedate second helping was distributed. James, either through hunger or the knowledge that this would be his last home-cooked meal for months, served himself a third helping.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, they each sat back in their chairs, contentedly observing the quickly descending dusk. In spite (or perhaps because) of the fact that Hermione and Ron had scarcely spoken a word to each other during the meal, it had been an enjoyable evening, made all the better as Mrs. Weasley presented a large chocolate cake to the group with a flourish.

The children, receiving a burst of vigor by the appearance of dessert, were temporarily distracted from any semblance of discussion as they delved into the cake. The adults, however, were marginally less entranced, and the conversation continued, albeit at a reduced pace. Harry had made his way through a third of his piece with no interruption when Arthur turned to him with a look of recollection.

"Harry, I've been meaning to ask you-have you heard any of the rumors about yourself that have been swirling about the office?"

Harry shrugged as he scooped another bit of cake onto his fork. "I've heard plenty of rumors, but I doubt any of them are what you're referring to."

"I haven't heard anything, either," Hermione said. "Aside from something silly about Harry quitting his job and purchasing the Chudley Cannons."

"That intern really needs to stop listening in on our conversations," Ron said. "And it was just a suggestion-team's looking really good this year."

"And obviously I need to work on my sarcasm," Harry said. "Apparently when I said it sounded like a great idea, it sounded as though I actually meant it."

"No, nothing like that," Arthur said. "You've heard, I assume, that Kingsley intends on retiring soon?"

"Of course," Harry said.

"Well, there have been rumblings-more than rumblings, really-that you're going to be approached about putting in a bid for Minister of Magic."

There was a beat of silence, in which even the children turned their eyes towards Harry. He glanced among them, amused by the array of sentiments displayed-shock, delight, intrigue-before a snort of laughter burst from him.

"What's so funny?" Teddy asked, bemused by Harry's reaction to such momentous news.

"You don't want to be Minister, Daddy?" Lily asked, cocking her head curiously.

"Yes, Harry, you don't want to be Minister?" Hermione asked, her lips quirking.

Harry continued to chortle as he popped the last morsel of cake into his mouth. "There aren't enough Galleons in Gringotts to make me consider that position," he said.

"Not even to consider it?" Ron said with a grin. "I could even be your campaign manager!"

"Great idea," Ginny said. "You could even revamp the lyrics to `Weasley Is Our King' to play at all the events."

"Exactly," Ron said. "There's no way we could lose."

"And you should probably make some sort of reference to defeating Voldemort," Ginny said. "People tend to forget these things, and it might make you appear more qualified."

"Because of course I'd need to pull the wool over their eyes about how completely unqualified I am," Harry said.

"So you're not going to be Minister?" Albus asked, clearly seeking a solid confirmation after the abundance of mockery.

"No, Al. At least not in the foreseeable future."

"Then can we go play Quidditch now?"

James and Rose nodded rapidly in concurrence.

"Sure, go on then," Harry said. Pulling out his wand, he scattered a dozen white orbs of light among the field to brighten the area, although the moonlight was fairly sufficient.

"Thanks, Dad!" Albus said, and he immediately leapt up.

"What are we playing to?" James asked.

"The usual…first team to score ten points…or until Hugo gets hurt," Albus said with a grin and promptly sprinted away, his feet squelching in the mud. He was followed closely by James and Rose; Lily and Hugo scampered after them a moment later, the latter shouting after his cousins to stop taking the mickey.

"Is it just me, or did they seem a bit anxious to get rid of us?" Ron said.

Everyone agreed that it seemed to be the case, and then went about cleaning up the dishes so they could retreat inside.

Arthur withdrew into the living room to read the paper, and Teddy left for home soon after. The rest sat around the kitchen table as they allowed the dishes to go about the task of washing and putting themselves away in the cupboard. Mrs. Weasley alone remained bustling about the kitchen.

"I think I'll send some of this to Luna for the boys," she mused as placed what remained of the cake into a box.

"How are they, by the way?" Ginny asked.

"As well as can be expected," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Luna brought the boys over just the other day for a play-date with Hugo," Hermione said. She frowned after a moment and bowed her head, examining her folded hands with a furrowed brow. "It's sad to see her like this," she said after a moment. "She's-she's probably better than most would be after a divorce, but it's Luna."

Harry nodded in understanding, a frown also settling upon his lips.

Luna had very recently separated from Rolf Scamander, leaving her to care for their six-year-old twins sons, Lorcan and Lysander, on her own. While she had not shown an overt amount of melancholy over the incident, there had certainly been a subdued nature to her naturally lively countenance. For lack of a better term, she had at least temporarily lost much of her eccentricity, and everyone present was quite anxious to see her back in better spirits.

"I never did like that guy," Ron said, crossing his arms.

"We've heard, Ronald," Ginny said, flicking her wand towards the sink to shut off the water.

Ron grumbled an incoherent reply before standing up abruptly. "I'll take that over there, if you'd like," he said, gesturing to the cake.

"There's really no need, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "I can always send Pigwidgeon."

"It's not like it's much of a walk," Ron said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It'd save Pig a trip, and I'm sure Luna would appreciate it."

"That's true…" Mrs. Weasley said.

Ron stepped forward and took the box from the counter.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said, and exited the house without another word.

No sooner had the slam from the front door faded into silence than the back door burst open, heralding Lily's rapid and mud-spattered arrival.

She skidded to a halt before the adults, who peered at her curiously as she hunched over, placing her hands on her knees and gasping for air.

"Hu...Hugo," she panted, pointing behind her. "He…he's in…got stuck…"

Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the adults waited patiently for the tiny redhead to catch her breath. She was clearly not too distressed by whatever she'd dashed inside to tell them, so they were at least moderately calm as they watched her regain her composure.

"What is it, honey?" Ginny asked.

"Hugo," she finally said, still breathing slightly heavily. "He flew…his broom into the tree…got stuck."

"Merlin," Hermione said, rubbing her face as she stood.

"Lily, run out there and make sure James or Albus or Rose don't try to get him out," Harry said, also standing. "They're probably more likely to make him fall, and those brooms aren't meant for two anyway."

They heard a yell a moment later and a muffled thump. Fortunately, the thump was followed not by a cry of pain, but by angry shouts that appeared to be coming from Rose.

"Too late," Lily said.

Rose's shouting seemed to ease Hermione's quickly rising panic, but she dashed out hurriedly into the darkness nonetheless. She reappeared a few moments later, frog-marching a muddy, disheveled, but unharmed Hugo before her. Unlike Lily's slightly mud-splattered shoes and pants, Hugo was covered from head-to-toe in grime, although he seemed unbothered by the fact. Rose, on the other hand, who stomped in behind her mother, did seem quite bothered by the equally copious amounts of mud coating her clothes and hair.

The dishes on the drying rack quivered as Rose stormed past, clanking as the plates and glasses tapped against each other.

Hermione shot a look over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

"Calm," she said.

Rose crossed her arms, splattering mud as she did so, and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, the dishes immediately stilled.

"Good," Hermione said.

Rose had grown much more effective at controlling her outbursts, and Harry knew that she must be pretty mad to have caused any reaction at all.

"Hugo, I think you've had enough fun for tonight," Hermione said sternly. "You're lucky you're sister caught you when you fell."

"Bloody lucky," Rose muttered, plopping herself, mud and all, next to Harry.

"Language," Harry and Hermione said together.

They paused awkwardly before Hermione turned back to Hugo.

"I was just trying to catch the Quaffle," Hugo said defensively.

"You could have seriously hurt yourself," Hermione scolded.

"Sorry, Mum," Hugo said, looking down at his soaked shoes.

"And your sister," Hermione said.

"Sorry, Rose," Hugo said, looking apologetically at his sister as he brushed his sodden bangs from his eyes.

Rose waved her hand in a gesture of submissive absolution.

"And now you're going to go upstairs and take a bath," Hermione said.

"I don't think there are any towels in the guest bathroom," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'll fetch some."

"Thanks," Hermione said, and once more frog-marched him from the room, leaving a trail of mud in their wake.

"And I'll go fetch Al and James," Ginny said, seemingly more amused by the proceedings than anything. "Are they still in the back?"

"Should be," Rose said. "They were chucking the Quaffle at each other the last time I checked."

"Why would they do that?" Ginny asked.

"I find that it's better to only ask boys what they're doing-never why."

"Wow, those are quite wise words for one so young," Ginny said, smiling.

"She has lived with Hermione for a decade," Harry pointed out.

"True," Ginny said.

Harry and Rose sat in silence for a moment after Ginny had left. Rose propped her chin in one hand while she used the other to drum the tabletop, staring diligently at Harry all the while.

"Would you like me to clean those for you?" Harry finally asked, twirling his wand between his fingertips.

"Thank Merlin," Rose said, knocking her chair back with a clatter as she stood up. "I was wondering when someone would offer."

Harry flicked his wand wordlessly towards Rose's sodden clothes. In an instant all traces of mud had vanished.

"Much better," Rose said, examining her dry clothes in satisfaction. "Thanks, Uncle Harry."

"No problem," Harry said, inwardly cringing.

Both he and Rose glanced towards the door as they heard the creak of the staircase, and a moment later Hermione came into view.

"Hey, Mum," Rose said.

"Hey, Rose," Hermione replied. She paused in entryway and glanced around the kitchen, as if to see if the room held any other occupants.

"Your Dad just got back," she said after a moment. "As soon as Hugo comes downstairs we're leaving."

"Okay," Rose said. "I'll just go say bye to Al and James, then."

As Rose spoke, Harry was struck-as usual-by the resemblance that she bore to her mother. From the long, wild brunette hair to the warm brown eyes, she could have easily passed for the eleven-year-old girl Harry had met on the Hogwarts Express so long ago. The observation also allowed Harry to see how distracted and exhausted Hermione appeared. Her skin held an almost sickly pallor, accentuating the darkness under her eyes and the slight hollowness of her cheeks.

Rose gave Harry a quick hug before darting away to find the boys, and only then did he allow his expression to settle into concern.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Hermione said. "I'm perfectly fine."

"I don't believe you," Harry said, but her unenthusiastic tone had suggested she hadn't been attempting to deceive him in the first place.

"I know," Hermione said.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." She crossed her arms across her stomach, holding herself. Her eyes were incredibly sad as she looked past him. After a moment, she focused her gaze on his. "I…I've just had a lot on my mind. There's really nothing to discuss."

"Does it have anything to do with your fight with Ron?" Harry asked.

Hermione frowned. "Not exactly. And I really don't want to talk about it, Harry, so can you please drop it?"

"Er, sure," he said. She already seemed to be receding back into taciturn contemplation. "I'll be around if you do though…you know, want to talk about it."

She allowed him a brief, weak smile as she turned away.

"I know," she said, and was gone without another word.

******************

The next morning arrived bright and crisp as Hermione strode through King's Cross Station, her sleepy-eyed family following in her wake. She heard Ron yawn behind her, and fought to suppress one herself as she rubbed blearily at her eyes. She knew she must look absolutely dreadful, but could not bring herself to care.

"Which one is it again, Mum?" Rose said as they continued to pass the platforms. Although she had already been to the station before to see a few of her cousins off to Hogwarts, her imminent attendance in the next year made her more alert than she had been in the past.

"Just up ahead," Hermione said.

"Nine and three-quarters," Rose said.

"Exactly," Hermione said, smiling through her weariness. She wondered how this felt to her daughter and son, and considered how different their feelings must be to what hers had been upon stepping through the barrier to see the Hogwarts Express for the first time. She wondered if they felt anything akin to the magic that had caught in her veins, the sheer awe that she had tried so hard to disguise at the sight. She certainly hoped they did, but then she couldn't quite expect it of them-after all, she had been a Muggleborn.

"Here," Hermione said as they reached the barrier.

She grasped Rose's hand as Ron did the same with Hugo, and they all walked briskly toward the wall. Hermione heard Rose gasp involuntarily as they passed through the barrier.

"I hate that," she said.

"Yes, it is rather difficult to get used to," Hermione commiserated. She immediately removed the long coat she had been using to disguise her plum-colored Wizengamot robes, knowing she would Apparate to the Ministry as soon as they saw James off.

"Do you think they're here yet?" Ron said as he and Hugo appeared through the barrier a moment later, the latter shaking his head in disorientation.

"I don't know," Hermione said, scanning straggling families in the steam-filled station.

"It's almost a quarter till," Ron said, checking his watch. "Seem to be cutting it a little close."

Hermione couldn't help but snort an amusement at that statement. "Yes, because you were always quite early to board the train."

"Of course, I've always been one for punctuality," Ron said.

"Speaking of, do you think George and the others have already been through?"

"Seems like it," Ron said. "Do you think they have enough Weasleys there yet?"

"Roxy's in second year, Lucy and Louis are in third," Rose said, ticking off her cousins on her fingers. "Molly, Dominique, and Freddie are all in fifth..."

"And Victoire's in sixth," Hermione said. "Yes, it does seem as if Hogwarts has quite the multitude of Weasleys."

"I suspect they've quite reached their limits," said a voice as a figure approached them through the steam.

Victoire Weasley smiled brightly as she neared them, already clad in her Hogwarts uniform. A bright blue prefect's gleamed on her chest, and her long blonde hair was tied back into a neat ponytail.

"Victoire!" Rose said in delight, breaking away from her mother to envelop her eldest cousin in a hug.

"Hello," Victoire said. "What are you all doing here?"

"We came to say goodbye to James," Rose said.

"Oh, that's right, it's his first year, isn't it?"

"Yes, although if he doesn't hurry he might have to start next year," Hermione said. "Shouldn't you already be on the train?"

"I…I was just doing my last round out here," Victoire said, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her pristine robes. "But I suppose I'll wait here with you all until Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny get here."

They did not have to wait long, as a moment later the entire Potter clan came rushing through the barrier.

"-told you to keep Aspen in his cage," Harry was saying, his eyes on his watch as he guided James' trolley.

"Look, a greeting party," Ginny said, catching Harry by the sleeve to stop him from barreling into Ron. "And Victoire as well!"

"It's good to see you, Aunt Ginny," Victoire said, embracing her. "And you too, Uncle Harry."

"Same to you," Harry said. "Sorry we're late. We had some owl-catching to do this morning."

"Sorry," James added meekly, clutching the cage of a small tawny owl. The owl hooted at the group surrounding him, clearly unconcerned with the ruckus he had caused.

"Teddy was right behind us," Ginny added. "Parking that awful motorcycle Harry was so kind to give him…"

"Godfather to godson trade-off," Harry said with a shrug, using his wand to load James' luggage onto the train. "If you'd prefer, I could give it to James instead."

"That won't be necessary," Ginny said hastily.

When Teddy appeared, his hair altered to a dark brown to avoid attention, Hermione failed to miss the brief flash of elation that crossed Victoire's features. The young Ravenclaw had composed her features in as rapid a manner as they had been allowed to deviate, but Hermione was an expert on hiding her feelings. The part-Veela was good, but Hermione was better. It was hard not to be better with two decades of experience in the practice.

"Hey, Teddy," Victoire said, prudently retaining her position by her aunt.

"Hey," Teddy replied with a smile. "Here to escort James off?"

"Of course," Victoire said, although the faintest of blushes further tipped Hermione off to a different motive.

"The both of you better get on the train, then," Ginny said. "It's about to leave you behind."

"And unfortunately we don't have a flying car to send you off if it does," Ron said, his mouth twitching as he glanced at Harry.

Harry smirked as well, but quickly sobered as he stood before his eldest son, who was growing paler with each passing moment.

"Don't get into too much trouble," he said, placing one hand on each of his son's shoulders. "We might have to bring you home if that's the case, and as scary as it seems now, you'll never want to leave once you get there."

"Almost never want to leave," Ginny corrected. "He'll still want to see his mum every now and again."

"And me and Al!" Lily said, sniffling.

"Right," James said, a small quiver in his voice.

"If you need anything at all, you can send Aspen to us," Ginny said.

"And we'll send Fitz if we want to send you anything," Harry said.

"Or Aurora," Albus said, referring to his large barn owl.

"Yes, either one," Ginny said, and ushered her son away from Harry to envelop him in a hug. "We'll write to you every day if you want us to."

"No way, Mum!" James said, evidently aware of the eyes of his siblings and cousins upon him. Hermione smiled as she caught James' whisper of "Just three times a week" into his mother's ear.

"And as long as you don't get in Slytherin you'll have at least one cousin to help you out," Teddy said once Ginny had given a quick assurance to her son.

"And Neville will be more than glad to help you if you need anything. I would say that McGonagall could do the same if she hadn't retired last year," Ginny continued, ignoring the brief flash of panic that crossed James' features at the thought of being in Slytherin.

"I believe `just in time' were her words," Harry said. "I suspect she just wanted to make sure Teddy finished his schooling without getting expelled."

"That woman secretly loves me," Teddy mused, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced wistfully at the train. "I wasn't even in her House and she was always the one to give me detentions."

"The boldness of a Gryffindor and the intelligence of a Ravenclaw does not a well-behaved student make," Victoire said with a smile.

"Not to mention the mischief of a Metamorphmagus and the restlessness of a half-werewolf," Ginny said.

"And the natural predisposition for pranking instilled by being the son of a Marauder and being raised around the Weasleys," Harry said.

"Face it, mate, you were fated to be a troublemaker," Ron said, clapping Teddy on the back. "Tough break."

Teddy was saved from replying as the Hogwarts Express emitted a shrill whistle.

There was a brief flurry of activity as James was passed quickly among his relatives, embraced affectionately by each, until he reached his father, who hugged his son more tightly than anyone.

Between this sight of separation of father and son, Victoire's seemingly impulsive embrace and unheard whispers to an oblivious Teddy, and her own private and tumultuous reflections, Hermione was bombarded with enough emotion to render her speechless as she watched Victoire and James board the train. She barely managed to raise her hand in farewell as the train disappeared from the platform.

"He's going to be alright, isn't he?" Lily said, clutching her mother's hand and looking up at her tearfully.

"Of course! And he'll be back for the holidays before you know it," Ginny said cheerful, although her eyes were also glassy from pent-up tears.

After a moment of silence, Teddy excused himself from the group and vanished through the barrier. He was closely followed by Ginny, who clutched each of her remaining children's hands in an almost possessive manner as she vanished as well.

"I guess I'll be off as well," Ron said. "I'll get the kids situated at the Burrow, and then meet you at the Ministry."

"Sounds good," Harry said. "Although I'm sure Ginny wouldn't mind if Rose and Hugo want to spend the day at Grimmauld. I'm sure Al and Lily could use the company."

Ron agreed to this plan at the enthusiastic promptings of his children and then was gone as well, leaving Harry and Hermione standing alone on the platform.

"I think we're getting old, Hermione," Harry said, continuing to gaze after the long-departed train.

"Speak for yourself," she responded as she observed his profile. "You're the one with gray hair."

Harry smiled at that, running his hand through the offending locks at his temple.

"Barely. And I wouldn't sound so amused about it if I were you," Harry warned. "You'll be next, especially since we can't count on Ginny or Ron going gray on us."

"True," Hermione said, attempting to keep her tone light-hearted.

Harry sighed after a moment of silence. "Well, no point in hanging around here. Heading to the Ministry?"

"No, I just like to wear purple robes for the fun of it," Hermione said.

"I thought as much," Harry said with a grin, offering his hand in a wordless gesture for Side-Along Apparition. "No need for sarcasm, Granger."

Hermione accepted his hand as wordlessly as he had given it, for once not making the slightest attempt to correct him with a quietly muttered Weasley before they disappeared.

******************

It truly was a morose evening at the Potter household.

Both Lily and Albus were forlorn at the loss of their brother, however temporary, and Harry and Ginny were equally somber at the strangeness of James' absence. As a result, all four seemed inclined to turn in early that night, as much from exhaustion at the emotional morning as from the desire to start the next day afresh.

Harry retired to his bedroom almost as soon as Albus and Lily were asleep. Ginny was already in bed, jotting down notes on a pad of paper by the light of the lamp on her bedside table.

Harry perched himself on the edge of the bed as he began to unlace his shoes.

"Did you tell Lily she could sleep in her new boots?" he asked as he kicked off one of them.

"Yes," Ginny said absently as tapped her pen thoughtfully.

"Not that there's any problem with it, but why would you let her?" Harry asked curiously, kicking off his other shoe.

"She said they were comfortable, they kept her feet warm, and that she loved them more than anything in the world," Ginny answered, scratching through a note on her paper.

"And those were good enough reasons for you?" Harry said, removing his socks as well.

"Well, those happen to be the reasons I sleep with you," Ginny replied with a grin, nudging Harry with her foot.

"I'm glad to be of some use to you, then," Harry said, smiling as well.

He slipped under the sheets on his side of the bed a few moments later, vaguely aware that one of his hands had unconsciously reached to cover the small patch of darkened skin on his bare chest.

"I'll be done with this article in a bit," Ginny said, continuing to jot notes. "It needs to be sent to the Prophet tomorrow afternoon. Is the light bothering you?"

"No," Harry said. "Take your time. I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Ginny asked.

"Just wondering if James is okay."

"He'll be fine," Ginny said. "He's probably in his dormitory right now, getting to know his roommates and completely unconcerned by the fact that he starts classes in the morning."

"Do you think he got in Gryffindor?"

"Undoubtedly," Ginny said. "He's probably even in your same dormitory."

Harry grinned, pleased at the notion.

"Aspen will probably show up tomorrow with a letter letting us know how his first day was, anyway. So don't trouble yourself too much about it."

"Okay," Harry said.

Within ten minutes, Ginny had completed her article and flicked off her lamp.

"Now move over," she said, settling herself more comfortably underneath the covers. "You're hogging the bed."

******************

In the Weasley household, Hermione alone could be described as morose.

However, as she was used to doing, she managed to mostly hide the symptoms of her distress. Her haggard appearance gave the only insight into the maelstrom of her emotions, and this could easily be disregarded as lack of sleep to any but the most perceptive of observers. As neither Harry nor her mother was present, she felt mostly safe in this regard.

Presently, as she read aloud to her children, she had little trouble disguising her feelings. This had become a favorite ritual among them, and Hermione loved nothing more than to share her love of books and stories with Rose and Hugo. She sat propped against the pillows in her daughter's bed, with Rose on one side and Hugo on the other, and could scarcely describe how tranquil she felt.

It had been Hugo's choice tonight, and he had requested a few stories from a book of fairytales. The Tales of Beedle and the Bard, needless to say, were nowhere to be seen.

"And then the marriage of the King's son with Briar-rose was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the end of their days," Hermione said, finishing what she felt had been a spirited rendition of "Sleeping Beauty." Or at least as spirited as could be managed through her own desire for sleep.

"Read `Ali Baba' again," Hugo said immediately.

"I have no idea why you like that story so much," Hermione said as she closed the book. "Although I imagine the violence may have something to do with it."

"Swordfights and treasure!" Hugo said enthusiastically.

"I prefer that story too," Rose added.

"You never have been one for princess stories, have you?" Hermione said with a tired smile.

"Fairytales in general, really," Rose said. "I mean, they're interesting, but they aren't very realistic, are they?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that. Leave it to her magical daughter to find fault in stories almost entirely surrounding magic. "Which part, exactly?"

"I don't know…" Rose said thoughtfully. "Well, take `Cinderella,' for example."

"What about it?" Hermione asked.

"First of all, the so-called fairy godmother should never have helped Cinderella in the first place. She was clearly a witch, and showing off to a Muggle should have gotten her in a lot of trouble."

"Of course," Hermione said, nodding in amusement. "Statute of Secrecy and all that. Go on."

"So if you can ignore that obvious flaw in the plot, the Transfiguration itself is very impressive. But then, if the witch is powerful enough to create all that, why would all the magic disappear? And at midnight, no less. Unless the fairy godmother died or just wanted to be a jerk to Cinderella, the Transfiguration should have lasted longer, right?"

"Right."

"And then, after all that, you find out that not all of the magic disappeared-that a pair of glass slippers, of all things, doesn't disappear. And to top it all off, we're expected to just accept the fact that Cinderella has such a unique shoe size that the glass slipper will not fit the foot of a single other person in the entire kingdom? It's ridiculous!" Rose concluded.

"You're completely right," Hermione said seriously. "Not to mention the fact that the slipper would have broken to begin with."

"That too!" Rose said. "Especially if she was dancing around in them!"

"Oh, Rose," Hermione said with a sigh as she slid from the bed, prompting Hugo off as well. "I fear that you've been around me far too long, love."

Rose giggled, and Hermione bent to kiss the crown of her daughter's thick brown hair.

"Can I get a glass of water before I go to bed?" Hugo asked.

"Sure," Hermione said. "Would you like one, Rose?"

"No, I'm okay. Goodnight, Mum."

"Goodnight," Hermione said, and flicked off the light to her daughter's room.

Hugo led the way down the hall, through the living room where Ron was perusing a Quidditch magazine, and into the kitchen. Hermione held back a groan of exasperation as she followed her son into the last room-pots and pans were still scattered about the stove, the sink was overflowing with dirty plates and glasses, and the leftovers from dinner remained sitting in dishes on the counter.

"Ron, I thought I asked you to clean up the mess in the kitchen!" Hermione called, her agitation causing her voice to be shriller than she had intended.

Silence followed her rebuke. Then:

"Sorry, must've slipped my mind."

Although she couldn't see him, she didn't think he sounded particularly sorry about it.

Hugo, now clutching a glass of water, stepped into the living room. Hermione followed once more, bringing Ron into her sight. He continued to staunchly stare at his magazine.

Hugo, quite used to seeing such typical bickering between his parents, took a sip of his water.

"Yeah, Dad, stop being so lazy!" he said jokingly.

Another moment of silence.

"Hugo, it's not your place to criticize your father," Hermione said quietly.

"Yes, you're infringing on your mother's territory," Ron replied, his eyes immobile on the magazine.

Hermione felt her shoulders tense involuntarily as cold anger roiled about in her chest.

"It's time for bed, Hugo," she said evenly.

Hugo glanced between his father and mother curiously. Then, without another word, her son vanished down the hallway, the door to his bedroom clicking shut a moment later.

"That was entirely uncalled for," Hermione said tightly.

"Look, I'd rather not get into this tonight," Ron said, his tone just as crisp.

"Really? Because your comment would suggest otherwise," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"Maybe you're wrong," Ron answered, finally looking up from his magazine with a glare. "Did you ever consider that?"

"I suppose that it would be a nice change of pace for me to be wrong, wouldn't it?" Hermione said, not finding it within herself to reign in her anger.

"Right, because I'm bloody wrong all the time, aren't I?" Ron ground out, finally tossing his magazine away from him in anger as he stood up.

Hermione bit back her next mean-spirited retort and turned her back on her husband. Her hip nudged the edge of a rickety table placed beside the couch as she walked a few paces away, and lunged forward to still the lone vase on its surface as it wobbled precariously.

"Maybe you're right," she said softly, moving her hands slowly away from the vase. "Maybe we shouldn't get into this right now."

Hermione heard a long sigh as Ron paced away as well.

"Sure, why not?" he said sourly, and Hermione heard him fumbling about with the books on the shelves.

Hermione would later wonder what Fates had to be in play to result in what happened next. Wonder at what had possibly possessed Ron to fumble about on her bookshelves for something to read when he had rarely messed with them before. Wonder why he selected the book he did. Hermione did not remember which book he chose though. It was arbitrary, really. The significance of it came when he pulled the book roughly from the shelf, causing the book next to it to fall forward, landing with a thump on the ground and falling open to a very precise page, where a small, worn piece of parchment was heavily folded.

Realization only dawned on Hermione as Ron set aside the book he had chosen, bent to lift the fallen leather tome into his arms, and plucked the parchment from its crease. When that realization did hit her, it did so so forcibly that she couldn't prevent a gasp of horror from escaping her lips.

Ron might have ignored the parchment had she been able to control herself. After all, a scrap of old parchment in an Ancient Runes dictionary would more than likely be some scrawled note from class. But her gasp told a different tale, and instead of tossing it aside, he glanced at Hermione curiously, then back to the folded parchment with renewed interest.

"Give that to me," Hermione said, a whine of panic rising in her mind and a blush rising in her cheeks.

Ron didn't reply, instead fixing her with a hard stare. She could see his thoughts churning, and by the time she had crossed the room to snatch the parchment from him, he had clearly made up his mind to do no such thing. He held the parchment out of her reach and instead shoved the open dictionary into her arms.

"What is it?" Ron asked. There was no malevolence in his tone, only a burning curiosity.

"It's-it's just some notes I took in classes," Hermione said, setting the dictionary on the couch.

Ron cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "I'm not that much of an idiot, Hermione."

"Well, then, it's none of your concern," Hermione said firmly. She made another snatch at the parchment, and Ron jerked it once more out of her reach.

"Would you stop treating me like some schoolgirl?" Hermione snapped. "Just give that back to me!"

But Ron was already unfolding the parchment-unfolding the letter-and Hermione continued to struggle vainly to grab it, to take it away from his prying eyes, even as she knew that it was too late. He hardly seemed aware of her efforts after a moment, and she stopped trying after a moment more.

She backed away from him and collapsed onto the couch, hardly able to force herself to watch him as he absorbed every word she had written, as he read it through a second time, as his brow contorted and the set of his mouth grew rigid.

When he had clearly had enough, he methodically folded up the parchment and with a twitch of his wrist sent it flying into her lap. He then turned his back on her and bowed his head.

The silence that reigned between them at that moment stretched on into more moments, and still neither Hermione nor Ron said a word. Despite her guesswork, Hermione could never appropriately describe what she supposed Ron was feeling during that span of stillness, and, for once in her life, she was unsure if this was knowledge she wanted to be privy to.

Hermione, with equal amounts of guilt, dread, and apprehension, was the first to break through the silence. And breaking it was all she managed.

"Ron, I-"

"You what?" Ron cut her off so bitingly that she cringed in alarm. "You can explain? Is that what you were about to say? What is there to explain? The two of you clearly made a fool of me. End of story. What more needs to be said?"

"Ron, you don't understand-"

"Oh, what a surprise! Something else that Ron Weasley can't understand!"

Hermione hastily cast a Muffliato charm as his voice escalated.

"Would you look at me, Ron! That letter is nothing recent! I wrote that when I was sixteen!"

"It doesn't matter that you were sixteen! It's the fact that you lied to me!"

"What would have been the point in telling you?" Hermione asked. "I never even showed that to Harry! It was just…it was just a fleeting crush, Ron."

Strangely, Ron did not seem at all mollified by this.

"That just makes it worse, doesn't it?"

He no longer shouted at her, but the soft way he spoke struck Hermione as significantly worse. He finally faced her, and Hermione was startled to see tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"It's not about the fact that you wrote it when you were sixteen, or that you were just writing about a crush. It's about the fact that you've never said anything like this to me. That apparently as a sixteen-year-old you could feel as strongly as this about Harry when you obviously don't feel this way about your own husband."

Hermione paled at the unwelcome veracity of these words and immediately averted her eyes.

"I…I don't know what to say, Ron."

"I guess that's the point, isn't it?"

Hermione heard Ron sigh as he sat down on the couch next to her.

"So," he said, and the word seemed to extend farther in her mind than any single-syllable word had the right to do.

"So," Hermione echoed.

"Is this it, then?" he said.

The matter-of-fact way he said it rendered her breathless-it felt as though steel bands were tightening, constricting her heart and lungs, and she gasped for air as the tears finally flooded to her eyes.

"I guess so," she managed to choke out.

"It wasn't-it wasn't all bad, was it?" Ron asked, fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

"No, of course not," Hermione said tearfully. "You're still my friend, Ron, and nothing could change that."

And that was it. There was no open declaration of defeat, no exclamation of failure. She knew she had been unfair to him, that they had been unfair to each other, and had been too good of friends to admit that they just didn't work. She also knew that he deserved someone better than her, a person that could love him as unreservedly as he deserved to be loved and make him happier than she could ever make him.

As she turned to observe Ron, she didn't see her thirty-six-year-old husband, but saw past that to the lanky, red-haired teenager she had met at Hogwarts. And as they pulled each other into an embrace, she knew she was not hugging her husband.

She was hugging her friend, and there was a bittersweet rightness in that small consolation.

"I love you, Ron," she said as they broke apart.

He gave her a small, regretful smile.

"I love you, too," he said.

Then he left the room, leaving Hermione alone.

She pulled the Ancient Runes dictionary towards herself when he was gone, intent for some reason or another to replace her worn letter back within its pages. It was still open to the place it had opened to, and Hermione glanced at the contents of the page as she wedged the parchment securely into the binding.

"`Ehwaz,'" she read, tracing her finger down the runes.

It means partnership, not defense.

She snapped the book shut ruefully.

"Still can't believe I missed that one," she muttered, and tossed the book on the table next to the couch.

She immediately regretted this act as the vase on the table fell instantly to the floor and shattered.

"Of course," Hermione said, hardly alarmed by the development.

Ron returned to the room at the sound of the breaking porcelain.

"Vase fell?" he asked unnecessarily.

"Yes. It doesn't matter, I knew it would happen eventually."

"Then why didn't you stop it?" Ron asked, bewildered.

And it was such a simple question.

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