Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Hermione Granger
Genres:
Romance Action
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 03/20/2005
Updated: 11/04/2005
Words: 102,452
Chapters: 16
Hits: 32,773

Follow Through

Ann Margaret

Story Summary:
Three years after the fall of Voldemort, Hermione Granger is working as a reporter for the Daily Prophet while her longtime boyfriend Ron Weasley is off saving the world with fellow Auror Harry Potter. But when Hermione stumbles across a mystery of her very own, she starts discovering things she never knew about the war, the past, herself and more importantly, the people she thought she was closest to. Follows the Hermione Granger trilogy (Order of the Phoenix, Time of Troubles, and Beginning of the End) so please read those before diving in so you'll understand what's happened thus far!

Chapter 01

Chapter Summary:
As always in chapter one of an Ann Margaret fic...backstory!
Posted:
04/20/2005
Hits:
2,844
Author's Note:
Sorry it took so long to post--please bear with me; I will be out of school in two weeks or so which means more time to write!


Thinking bout every little thing
We ever did crazy
Sipping on that memory lane
That may never close
Seven days of the week
I can drive in my sleep...

"Dreams" Gavin Degraw

**

Ron Weasley's apartment was not the neatest place in the world. He had never been a particularly tidy person, but now that he was living on his own and no longer shared a flat with Harry, his sloppiness had reached a new height. Hermione shook her head as she shut the door behind her and automatically locked it with a flick of her wand. She swept up some of the assorted Dark Arts books he had tossed aside upon entering his home after a long day and stacked them on a nearby table. She had informed Ron that she would not be one of those girls who clean up after their boyfriends, but she couldn't stand to see books on the ground. Books should always be kept in the best condition.

She set her briefcase next to the table before heading into Ron's kitchen to find Pig's food. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the pile of dirty dishes. As often as she chided him for his slovenly nature, Ron wasn't about to change anytime soon. He was too committed to his bachelor ways.

Hermione sighed at that thought, but she pushed it aside while continuing her quest for the owl treats. Ron was away on assignment again, and she had promised to take care of Pig and check on the apartment while he was gone. Too bad she didn't know how long Ron would be gone. He had been a full-fledged Auror for over six months now, and she had hoped to be used to the idea by this point of Ron being away for an undetermined amount of time. But Hermione should have known better; it never got any easier to watch Ron and Harry rush off into danger at school, so why should it be any different now? She loved her best friends more with each passing day, so it only got harder and harder to watch them go.

At least she wasn't as hysterical as she had been when Ron had first gone on assignment. She had kept it together long enough to say good-bye, but he had only been gone five seconds before she had fallen apart completely. Luckily, Ginny had come over ten minutes later with a massive carton of ice cream, Exploding Snap cards, and many, many bottles of butterbeer. When Harry had gone away for the first time, Ron and Hermione had taken Ginny out for a night in London to distract her, but Ginny had known better. She knew that while she had needed to be out and distracted, Hermione wouldn't want to be out in the state she was in; she would want to be alone or with close friends. Ginny had stayed overnight, and much to the girls' relief Ron and Harry had ended up returning the next morning after successfully nabbing their culprit their first night.

Ginny and Hermione usually got together when their significant others were on assignment, but tonight Hermione was on her own. The Ministry was hosting a congratulatory dinner for Arthur Weasley's five-year anniversary as Minister of Magic, and of course Ginny had to attend. Hermione had been invited as well, and had planned on going as Ron's date, but he had been called away at the last minute. Ginny had still urged her to come, but Hermione declined. She wasn't technically family yet, and besides, when Ron was away she usually wasn't in the mood to be around crowds of people, especially if they were as rambunctious and as devious as the Weasley twins.

She finally found Pig's owl food behind an empty box of Cauldron Cakes. She grabbed both boxes and tossed the empty one in the waste bin--why Ron wouldn't take the two seconds it took to throw a box in the trash was beyond her--and Hermione clicked her tongue to signal for Pig. A cheerful twittering floated from Ron's bedroom and Hermione wandered into the living room. She had to hop over Ron's broom to get over to the couch, and she sat on the arm of the sofa so she could call for Pig again. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the worn, comfortable orange sofa that was so very Ron, somehow, and fingered it with a smile. Together, they had spent many wonderful nights on this sofa.

Merlin, she missed that man.

No, Hermione refused to let herself wallow. She had work to do. She didn't have time to obsess over her boyfriend. She was not that type of girl. Besides, she shouldn't worry about something that Ron loved so much. The fact that he had actually seriously studied for his exams was a testament to that; Ron would never willingly study for exams unless it was something really important to him. And then the state he had been in afterward had really shown how much he'd cared about passing...

**

April 26, 2001

Hermione glanced up nervously when she heard the lock rattle. Ron usually Apparated into his house unless he was too tired, upset, or angry to concentrate, because he'd risk splinching himself. If he was using his key, that meant something was wrong. And after the day Ron probably had, she didn't want anything to go wrong for him. She set aside the parchment she had been scribbling notes on and shifted her position on the couch so that she was facing the door. She heard Harry's voice in the hallway and her anxiety mounted. If Harry had to escort Ron home, then something could really be wrong.

Ron came in first and her heart instantly went out to him. His hair was standing up on end, the robes he was carrying were coated with dirt and dust, he was sporting a huge blue-purple bruise on his left cheek, and she could tell that his eyes were bloodshot. Harry was right behind him, ready to help Ron stay on his feet if necessary. Hermione remembered all too well the state Harry had been in after his exams, and she reckoned that was why he was here. Harry had been barely able to stand himself. Hermione didn't know what precisely these exams entailed; all she knew was that there was a grueling written portion and an even more demanding practical examination. The exams lasted for three long days, and Harry had slept for almost an entire day afterward. It looked as though Ron was about to do the same thing.

She didn't know if he really wanted her to see him like this, but she knew she had to be here. Hermione had spent the last three days worrying about him, and she just had to see him for a minute to make sure that he was still standing. If he wanted her to leave, she would. Hermione bit her lip as he blankly stared at her for a long moment. "Hey," she finally said. "How'd it go--" Hermione barely got out before Ron had flung his robes and other belongings to the floor, collapsed onto the sofa, and buried his face in her lap. She glanced edgily up at Harry who had hung back by the door, but he just shrugged mysteriously. She frowned worriedly down at the back of Ron's head while running her fingers through his hair. "Ron?"

"Don't say anything," Ron demanded as he shifted slightly in order to sling an arm possessively around her waist. He sighed heavily. "Finally--someone who won't curse me!" He snorted sarcastically. "Well, on most days."

Hermione laughed quietly. "Was it that bad?" she inquired sympathetically.

"It was bloody awful," Ron complained. He flopped over on his back, staring in wonder at Harry. "I don't know how you did it, mate--that was torture."

"You did really well, though," Harry reassured as he sat down on the arm of the couch.

Ron frowned at him. "Did you watch?"

"You bet I did," Harry answered. He studied Ron curiously. "Where'd you learn how to turn someone into a ferret?"

With a smirk, Ron reached up to pull lovingly on one of Hermione's curls. "This one does have her uses."

"You turned someone into a ferret?" Hermione gasped. "Ron, human Transfiguration can be really dangerous!"

"Yes, it can," Ron said with mock-seriousness. "Auror training is just a walk in Hogsmeade, but turning an attacker into a ferret, now that's really dangerous."

"You could have just Stunned him," Hermione pointed out.

Ron heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I was trying to get some style points," he explained with a wave of his hand.

"Well, it worked," Harry informed him with a laugh. "Moody actually laughed when he saw you do it."

This piece of information caused Ron to sit all the way up with an expression of sheer panic on his face. "Moody watched?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. The confused expression on his face clearly conveyed that he had no idea why Ron was about to have a nervous breakdown. "He was the one critiquing you--"

"No, no, no, no," Ron moaned as he collapsed into his girlfriend once again. "I'm sacked," he predicted mournfully.

"Chin up, Ron," Harry advised cheerfully. He grinned cheekily. "You can't be sacked from a job you never had."

Hermione shot him a look that she typically only used for Ron, the one that meant, 'Shut up if you know what's good for you, or else you will incur my wrath!' "Come on," she said brightly to Ron, patting him vigorously on the arm. "Get up."

"Why?" Ron groaned. He reluctantly pushed himself into an upright position, and his head rolled on the back of the sofa.

"You need to get some sleep," Hermione told him as she stood up. "You're cranky and exhausted, and I have loads of work to do, so I don't want to spend my evening trying to convince you what you already know--that you're brilliant and everything will turn out just fine." She held out her hand expectantly. "But you're not going to believe me until you get some rest, so come on."

"She's good," Ron conceded to Harry as he clapped his hand in Hermione's and allowed her to pull him up. "Night, mate," he called as Hermione led him toward the bedroom.

"Night, Ron," Harry returned. "You really were great."

Ron grunted in disbelief as Harry shut the door behind him. He barely made it one step forward before Hermione had dropped his hand, grabbed the front of his robes with her fists, and assaulted him with a long, luscious kiss to remind him that he really was bloody brilliant. He kept her close to him for as long as possible before finally having to come up for air. "Damn, Hermione," he said hoarsely. His eyes were shining a bit brighter, much to Hermione's relief. Mission accomplished. "You really are good."

He kept his hands on Hermione's waist, but he didn't move in for another kiss. Instead, he just leaned forward to wearily rest his forehead against Hermione's. She stifled a laugh. She thought she'd never see the day when Ron would pass up an opportunity to snog. "You really are tired," Hermione noted. "Come on," she urged again before guiding him over to his bed. It was slow going since they hadn't lit any candles and because Ron always kept his floor littered with discarded books, rolls of parchment, dirty clothing, and other assorted obstacles. She managed to make it without stepping on too many of Ron's belongings. She made a note to chide him for being such a sloppy git later while tugging on his jumper and helping him take it off.

"Mmm," Ron smiled suggestively, but before he could make some sort of snappy joke, Hermione had sat him down on his bed. She tossed aside his shirt and knelt in front of him to take off his shoes. Ron's smile had grown wistful by this point, and his next words were anything but suggestive. "Remember the first time you did this for me?"

Hermione nodded in the darkness. "The day Riddle came back," she recalled softly.

"You were perfect that night," Ron informed her sleepily. She remained quiet; Ron typically became very forthright with information he always wanted to say but never had the courage to whenever he was exhausted. Hermione dropped his shoes to the floor, but stayed kneeling before him, her hands resting warmly on his thighs. His hand came up to lazily trace the curve of her face. "Merlin, you're perfect," he added almost inaudibly.

"You're not so bad yourself," Hermione returned flippantly, although her heart was once again fluttering as it always did whenever Ron made her feel like the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. She smiled up at him to let him know that although her words were casual, her feelings for him certainly weren't.

Her earnest eyes, however, seemed lost on Ron. "Why'd I almost lose you?" he wondered to himself. Hermione bit her lip worriedly; Ron also had the habit of becoming quite self-deprecating when he was tired, and she didn't want those nasty thoughts plaguing him tonight. She especially didn't want him blaming himself for something that they had already moved past. "Sorry," he apologized for the hundredth time.

Hermione caught the self-misery in his voice and immediately captured his hands with hers. "Hey," she soothed, scooting forward to look at his eyes. "We're past that, remember?" She pressed her hands deeper into his and deliberately wrapped her fingers as tightly as possible around his. "This is real. This is all that matters," she informed him with a meaningful glance at their entwined fingers. Ron smiled and nodded in weary acceptance. "Good. Now get in." She stood up so she could tug his blanket back while Ron plopped down on his stomach, face buried in his pillow.

"I was rubbish," Ron muttered while Hermione pulled his blanket comfortably around him.

"Bollocks," she contradicted while settling down on the edge of his bed. She brushed her hand up and down his back to help soothe him to sleep. "You could never be rubbish." Ron was too tired to start an argument, so he just blew out a disbelieving breath. "Look," she said with gentle logic. "You remember all of the times you had to convince me after an exam that I didn't fail?" Ron snorted. "Right, so you know how ridiculous I sounded? That's what you sound like now--you're too close to this to be objective, Ron, just like I was too emotionally attached to my exams to realize that I was well-prepared for them."

"So I'm just as mental as you?" Ron murmured. "Great," he added sarcastically.

Hermione just laughed, although her thoughts were rather serious. She had never seen Ron so riled up about exams before, not even his O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. He really cared. She had always known that Ron wanted with all of his heart to be an Auror, but if she ever became tempted to try to convince Ron to leave his dangerous job, she knew all she'd have to do was remember this moment. All she had to do was look into Ron's eyes to see how much he cared. The fire simmering there rivaled the intensity he exuded whenever he looked at her.

"Just go to sleep," she ordered. Ron smirked, but his eyes obediently started to close. "Good night, Ron," she said quietly before dropping a comforting kiss on his cheek. "I'm sure you were fantastic," she whispered into his ear.

His lips curved upward with a smile. He managed to get out a slurred, soft thank you before his eyes closed all the way. She remained on the side of his bed for several long moments, continuing to move her hand lightly up and down his back. She didn't want to leave until she was certain he was fast asleep. With one more parting peck on his cheek, Hermione quietly slid off of the bed and tiptoed to the door. Normally she would have remained at his side even longer, but she had to find out just what had happened during the exams today. After carefully shutting the door behind her, she resolutely strode over to Harry as he was picking up Ron's discarded gear from the floor. Now that Ron was gone, she could clearly show just how jittery she was about these exams. She knew that Ron had it in him to do it, but he had a nasty habit of making mistakes when he was unsure of his abilities. Fifth-year Quidditch had been a prime example of his insecurities affecting his performance.

"So how did it really go?"

Harry kept his back to her and shrugged. "He was great," he said neutrally.

"Even on the written exams?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Because sometimes when he gets nervous, he doesn't perform as well on exams--I think that was the only reason he didn't get an O in his Potion O.W.L; he was so nervous because he wanted to be an Auror so badly--"

"And he will be," Harry interrupted smoothly. He tossed Ron's discarded robes onto the sofa and Hermione spotted his wide, proud smile. Harry paused in suspense and she waited with breathless anticipation. "He's in."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Really?" she breathed.

"Yeah," Harry returned excitedly. He leaned against the arm of the sofa and gestured for Hermione to come closer so that Ron wouldn't overhear his thrilled voice. "You should have seen him, Hermione--even Moody was impressed. He said he hadn't seen anyone do as well since--" His cheeks turned a bit pink and Hermione suppressed a laugh. She already knew the answer. "--Since, well, me." He raked a slightly embarrassed hand through his hair and his smile grew wistfully melancholic. "And he said Ron reminded him of how well Sirius always did in battle."

It was one of the few times that Harry was able to mention Sirius' name without a sharp stab of pain flashing in his eyes, and it made the situation all the better. She fought the urge to rush into Ron's room, wake him up, and tell him the good news right now. "So when does he find out?"

"Tomorrow," Harry answered. "He'll get his results by owl in the morning, and then he'll have to report to the Ministry for processing and paperwork. Then he'll start on his first assignment."

Hermione frowned slightly. "Just like that? There's no transition period or anything?" She didn't fancy the idea of Ron going straight from the controlled simulations to the real world where he could easily be killed in the blink of an eye.

"He's ready for it," Harry reassured. "And he probably won't have to go on assignment for a while. Our first--"

"Our?" Hermione interrupted with shining eyes.

Harry looked at her blankly. "Well, yeah. We always said we'd be partners."

"I thought you had a partner already," Hermione explained, her excitement mounting. Ron had told her that the other day, and had been trying to hide his disappointment ever since. It had been his dream to fight evil with Harry since the first day they had met on the Hogwarts Express.

"Dan?" Harry shook his head. "They convinced me to help break in Dan--he barely passed his tests--but it was never meant to be permanent." He shrugged one shoulder. "I told them from the beginning that I really only wanted to work with Ron, so thankfully they're going to pair us together. They hate the idea of me working alone, but I told them that the only partner I would have is Ron and that they really didn't have any other choice." He started slightly when Hermione's eyes suddenly welled up, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop her lip from trembling with joy. "What are you doing--don't cry!"

"This is going to mean so much to him," Hermione said as she threw her arms around her best friend's neck, giving him an infinitely appreciative hug. "He's always wanted to work with you, Harry!" She fought back a squeal as she hugged Harry even closer. Ron was going to be so happy.

"Well, he will," Harry agreed with a laugh and pat on Hermione's back. "And believe me, it's mutual." He pulled away from Hermione, gesturing with his hands. "I wish you could have seen him, Hermione--he was brilliant."

"You sure are proud of him, aren't you?' Hermione said teasingly. Harry shrugged again, and Hermione settled down comfortably on the sofa next to her best friend. A glance at her watch told her that she really didn't have the time to stay here much longer, but she didn't really care. Tonight was going to be all about Ron and his triumph. His dream had come true, and she'd be damned if she didn't devote her full attention to this momentous occasion. She tucked her legs under her and stared at Harry avidly. "So tell me about all of these brilliant things he did."

**

As always, that memory served as the perfect reminder for why Hermione put up with all of the anxiety and fears, so she clicked her tongue in renewed fervor. "Pig!" she called. She shook the box temptingly. "Fancy a treat?" Her brow creased slightly when the elfish owl still didn't appear. "Pig?"

Hermione jumped up from the sofa and crossed concernedly across the room. Pig was getting on in years. She just hoped that nothing had happened to him--

She flung open the door to Ron's bedroom and to her great relief, the small owl fluttered cheerfully out, chittering away in joy at seeing the love of his master's life. "There you are!" Hermione said with a laugh. "You like to scare me just like Ron does, don't you?" she teased as she extracted some treats for the hungry owl. Pig settled down on her shoulder to consume his dinner while she poked her head into Ron's room to make sure Pig hadn't caused any damage. Pets had a nasty habit of damaging property whenever their owners left; Crookshanks had annihilated several pillows and cushions in his fury over Hermione's occasional business trips. Rowena, on the other hand, was too refined for those petty tricks--she usually hid Hermione's mail instead.

Ron's decorating tastes had not altered from his childhood days. Chudley Cannon posters plastered the walls, and although the bedding was no longer violently orange, there was still an atypical amount of the bright color adorning the walls. Hermione smiled fondly while she gave the room a cursory glance for damage. In some ways, Ron was still the carefree boy he had been back in school.

She closed the door behind her, and Pig, in attempt to affectionately nip her ear, bit a wad of her voluminous hair instead and fluttered across the living room. Hermione considered locking Pig in his cage for the night, but then she decided to let the owl fly about just a bit longer. It would be easier to get him into his cage if he was tuckered out from zooming about the flat in mad glee at seeing Hermione.

Besides, Hermione admitted to herself as she returned to the foyer to retrieve her briefcase, she always liked hanging around Ron's flat when he was gone. It made her feel closer to him somehow. She settled down on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her, a pile of notes arranged on her lap. She had to organize these notes for her story by the end of the night unless she wanted to be massacred by her boss. Right now, Hermione was still fighting to earn his respect.

Even after three years, Hermione had yet to earn a real investigative story. She had written several interviews of very prominent Ministry officials and celebrities--Harry Potter himself included--and had written a few very opinionated editorials about house-elves and werewolves rights. By all accounts, she'd had a very impressive career for only having three years experience. However, Hermione was ready for something a bit more challenging. She had been working on house-elves rights for years, and after hearing from Harry about the difficulties Remus was having finding work, she had added werewolves to her crusade. Now she was ready to add something different to her repertoire. She wanted to make a real difference with her work, and she knew how she wanted to go about it--by investigating important cases and helping uncover the truth--but she just never got to chance.

She knew that it was because in some ways she would always be too close to the source to be objective. For example, she wasn't allowed to cover the fall of Voldemort because her editor believed that she wouldn't be completely unbiased, considering she had actually been a part of the battle. She had been interviewed, of course, and she had helped her colleague with the piece, but it hadn't been her name on the byline. Also, because she was the significant other of an Auror, it was believed that she couldn't be objective about the cases they undertook. It could also have something to do with the fact that the editor of the Daily Prophet was a patriarchal, masochist prick who should have lived a hundred years ago, but Hermione wasn't going to focus on how stuck in the past her boss was. She was going to find a way to break through and earn the types of stories she wanted to cover.

And if she could chose any story in the world...Hermione stopped scribbling on her parchment and leaned back into the cushions. She knew it had been three years ago, but damn it, she still wanted more than anything to break through this bloody amnesia that had yet to cease plaguing her. She knew could never be objective about that piece, but she would still love to devote all of her energy to discovering the truth about what had happened. The dream diary was growing lengthier from her random flashes, but it still wasn't enough. She had to find another source.

Or maybe not, she contemplated. Hermione bit her lip and concentrated as hard as she could. She had gone over the minutes immediately after waking up many times, but maybe those weren't the moments that held the answer. Maybe it was what had happened later on that would be vitally important to solving the mystery...

**

May 9, 1998

"Open up, Miss Granger. Come on now--there we go!"

Hermione gagged reflexively as a sudden bitter, bubbling deluge of potion bombarded her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but a pair of rough yet gentle hands kept her lips clamped shut and she finally had to swallow. As the potion coated her throat and stomach, her heart leapt and blood surged through her veins. Suddenly she became much more alive. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up to see the kind Healer who had tended to Ron after his kidnapping.

"Much better now, isn't it?" the Healer said cheerfully as she set down the goblet she had been holding. Hermione nodded gratefully. She glanced about her and fought back a sigh. She had always hated St. Mungo's.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands. Her mind was still a bit hazy on the details. She remembered Dolohov grabbing her, and she remembered Ron waking her up in Harry's dining room, but the many minutes that had transpired since then were a complete and utter blank.

The Healer looked at her, startled. "You don't remember?" Hermione shook her head. "Oh, dear," she murmured. She reached for a file that was lying on the bedside table and scrawled a note inside. "Your friend was worried about this."

"Worried about what?" Hermione asked.

"Amnesia," the Healer gently answered. "He mentioned that you couldn't remember much of anything." It took Hermione several moments to recall that George had tried to question her about what had happened, and all she had been able to do was stare blankly at him. "None of your injuries could have caused that, though," the Healer explained. "I believe that it was most likely caused by post-traumatic stress. Hopefully, your memories should return to you in time."

Hermione bit her lip as she tried to remember. It wasn't like her to suppress memories like this--what happened to her must really have been awful. Still, Hermione knew that someday she would have to find out; it drove her mad not to know things. But right now, Hermione decided as she winced in her attempt to sit up straight, she was just going to let it be. She didn't usually believe in blissful ignorance, but she had a sinking feeling that if she did seek out the truth in this state it would make things even worse.

"Anyway," the doctor reassured, "you should be out of here in no time. You do have some nasty bruises." She gestured to Hermione's face and right hand. Hermione looked down to find her knuckles bruised as though she had punched someone. Ron had warned her when he taught her to fight that she could hurt herself just as badly, but Hermione reckoned that if her hand was this sore, it had to have been worth it. Hopefully, the victim of her punch had been knocked into some time next week. Well at least I put up a fight, she thought optimistically. She then touched her jaw and flinched. It felt as though there was a Quaffle Spellotaped underneath her chin, and it was extremely tender to the touch. She began to realize that she must be quite a sight. "There aren't any other external injuries, though," the Healer finished cheerfully.

"What about internal injuries?" Hermione asked perceptively. She couldn't be this sore and achy over a few minor bruises.

The Healer sighed heavily and laid a gentle, commiserating hand on Hermione's shoulder. "It's nothing that won't be healed in a few days, but I am afraid that there has been damage caused by excessive use of the Cruciatus curse." Hermione inhaled sharply and looked down at her lap, not exactly sure what she should be feeling at the moment. She shouldn't have expected anything less; Dolohov hated her with his entire being--of course he was going to inflict on her the most painful spell known to wizards. At least she couldn't remember it at the moment. Her only memory of the curse was the shaky, lingering aftereffects that were plaguing her muscles and bones. Fortunately, once she got over it, her memory would return and she could heal from this trauma in steps, rather than all at once. Instead of coping with the memory and the pain, she could take things one step at a time. In some ways she'd been luckier than most who had had to endure this tragedy.

Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't feel very lucky.

"We've given you all of the necessary potions and medications, so all you need to do now is get some good rest," the Healer advised briskly as she got up from the side of the bed. "If you take it easy, I think we should have you out of here as soon as tomorrow."

"Thank you," Hermione said reflexively as she glanced about the room. She was the only one in there besides the Healer, and she really didn't want it to be that way any longer. "Do you happen to know if any of my family is here?"

The Healer smiled knowingly. "Your young man was here earlier, but he went to check on your other friend. He should be back at any minute."

That answer, however, did not appease Hermione as it had been intended to. Hermione straightened up with wide eyes. The pain in her limbs suddenly seemed very unimportant. "My other friend?" she asked anxiously.

The knowing smile faded into empathetic concern. "Harry Potter," she said gently. "He was admitted a few hours before you--"

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione demanded. "Is he going to be okay? What happened?"

To her relief, the young Healer heard heavy footsteps striding toward her patient's room. "Why don't I let Ron here explain things to you," she offered before turning on her heel, stepping aside to allow a frazzled Ron Weasley to barrel through the door, and quickly exiting.

"Ron," Hermione said worriedly as he flopped down on the bed beside her. To her utter relief, he gathered one of her hands in both of his. His touch was doing wonderful, tingling things to her entire arm, and working better than any potion.

"Hey," Ron said hastily. He glanced at her swiftly to make sure that she was still in one piece. "I felt you three floors up. What is it?"

"Ron, she said that Harry's in here--" Hermione began, but Ron's eyes flashed knowingly and he shook his head to indicate that she didn't need to say anything else. He knew what she needed to know.

"We think Harry'll be okay," Ron said instantly. His hair was standing on end, his clothes were incredibly rumpled, and his eyes were more than a little wild-eyed, indicating that even though the prognosis was optimistic, he was still extremely worried. "He's been out since it happened, but he could come to any time now. Of course, the longer it takes for him to pull out it, the less likely his chances are--"

"Ron," Hermione repeated again. He was starting to ramble and she still needed loads of answers before being able to understand just what had happened. "Since what happened? Why is Harry in here?"

A smile lit up Ron's pale face. "Hermione, he did it. Voldemort's dead."

For a moment, Hermione couldn't move, speak, or breathe. She just stared at Ron. "Really?" she finally croaked out. "It's over?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, his grin widening with every second as realization crept into Hermione's eyes. Hermione could only stare for two more seconds before pure joy abruptly coursed through her veins, and she practically jumped on Ron and seized him in a tight embrace. "Whoa!" Ron protested with a hearty laugh. He had to stick his hand back behind him to prevent them both from falling off the bed. "You're supposed to be in bed!" he chided teasingly, but he still pulled away to allow Hermione to fall back against the pillows.

"It's over," she whispered dumbly. It was unbelievable. She had wished for this day for what seemed like an eternity, and now that it was finally here she didn't know what to say. She wanted to run out onto the streets, screaming with joy to the entire world. She wanted to leap back into Ron and let him hold her forever. She wanted to jump up and down and laugh like she had never laughed before, because now, for the first time in a long time, there was no fear of her world being seized and dominated by pure evil. For the first time, there was hope for the magical world. All thanks to Harry.

Harry. Her heart squeezed with a pained reminder, and she focused on Ron again. "But what about Harry?"

Ron sighed wearily. "They don't know," he admitted. "George said that he did a spell and that there was loads of smoke and mist, and by the time it had faded, Voldemort was lying there dead and Harry was unconscious. They don't really know what's wrong with him. It's like he's asleep and he doesn't want to wake up. He's just plain exhausted or something, I don't know--"

"Where is he?" Hermione asked as she looked around for a dressing gown. "I want to see him."

"Hermione, you have to stay in bed," Ron ordered flatly. "Just for the night, and then you can see him tomorrow."

"But, Ron--"

"No." Ron insisted. "You would be saying the same thing if I was in that bed and you know it."

Still half-poised to slide out of bed, Hermione studied him intently. Her heart flipped at his gaze--he was so worried about her. She vaguely recalled how incoherent she had been upon first waking up, and that really must have scared him. She could barely remember it, but she knew just by the somber glow to his Weasley blue eyes that for several, agonizing moments, he had thought he was going to lose her forever. She hated scaring Ron like that, so she leaned back against the pillows once again.

"Fine," she conceded. "But you have to keep me updated," she added stubbornly. She wasn't going to let Ron think that he was getting his way so easily.

"Fine," Ron echoed. "I've been going back and forth every hour or so. Ginny's camped by his side and Lupin's up there with him, too." His eyes lit up as he abruptly remembered something. "Oh, I talked to your dad."

Hermione bolted straight up in a panic. "Ron, my parents--they thought I was dead!"

"I know, I know," Ron soothed. "Mum went with me to talk to them, and she talked to your mum while I talked to your dad. They were really shaken up, but I think they're okay now. They were here while you were asleep." He frowned over his shoulder. "I think they're doing some paperwork or talking to Mum or something. I can go find them--"

"No." Hermione clutched Ron's fingers as they started to slip from her grip. "Not yet," she pleaded quietly. She couldn't bear to lose his warmth just yet.

Ron's ears turned pink with pleasure. "All right," he conceded happily. He settled back down and pushed his fingers even more firmly into Hermione's palm. "Your dad is really great," he commented.

Hermione smiled. She always knew Ron and her dad would get along. "Yeah?" Ron nodded his head sincerely and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I'm glad you liked him," Hermione whispered happily. She really hoped that Ron would get on with her family as well as she got on with the Weasleys. Ron had hardly spent any time at all with her family, so she knew that he had to be quite nervous to actually speak to them. If Ron had summoned up the courage to speak to her father and tell him such life-altering news, then he really must be committed to spending time with her family. Besides, if it turned on that she and Ron--Hermione cut off the thought sheepishly. It was way too soon to be thinking about things like that, but suffice to say, it would make her future plans loads easier if Ron and her parents did get along.

"I didn't really talk to your mum, but she seemed nice too," Ron continued. Hermione caught an underlying tightness to his voice, making her suspect that he was lying, but she didn't push it. She didn't want to hear any bad news right now. She just wanted to lay here, content and with the person she loved the most in the entire world at her side.

"Good," she said quietly.

He shifted uncomfortably and glanced over his shoulder. "I should get them. They're really worried about you."

"I suppose," Hermione said with a sigh. She really did want to see her parents, even if it meant that Ron would have to leave her side. Reluctantly, he stood up from the side of her bed. The pocket of air that he had been occupying grew colder, but Hermione knew he had to go. "And then you could go check on Harry again?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," Ron agreed. He knew that it was important to give Hermione time with her family, although he wanted nothing more than to bar all visitors and just spend the next long, glorious hours alone with the most brilliant woman on the planet.

Hermione could sense his thoughts, because she wanted the exact same thing herself. "But you will come back?" she asked somewhat shyly. "I mean, I was hoping that you could stay with me tonight--you know, like we did when you were here?"

Ron scrunched up his face with false consideration. "Well, I don't know. I was thinking of sleeping with Harry tonight--"

Hermione tossed his hand away teasingly. "Prat," she shot defiantly at him.

Ron's eyes softened and he had to trace the curve of her face again. "I never thought I would be glad to hear you call me that," he said sincerely. Hermione smiled broadly, wincing slightly as the left side of her face suddenly flashed with pain. Ron's fingers came up to lightly touch caress her cheek, and his eyes grew rather hard as he studied it. "He got you good, didn't he?"

Hermione, too, reached up to touch her injured cheek. She winced as she inspected the raised welt. "Dolohov," she said bitterly.

Ron fell back onto the bed and seized both of her shoulders. "You remember how you got that?" he asked sharply. His chest seized up with worrisome anticipation, and she hated letting him down, but she could only bite her lip and shake her head. Ron blew out a long breath. "Damn," he said flatly.

"I just assumed it was him," Hermione explained despondently. She had a feeling that this amnesia thing was really going to bother her for a long time. "I wish I could remember," she said more to herself than to Ron. Ron glanced over at her, but he didn't say a word. "Well, I just I hope that I got him as good as he got me," she said with a little laugh as she held up her bruised knuckles.

Still remaining silent, Ron captured her hand and carefully examined the wound, and Hermione just watched him as he intently studied the purple-blue swelling. She could feel his long fingers trembling ever so slightly, and as she channeled all of her attention on him, her thoughts were deluged with steely, icy anger that stabbed her brain with painful intensity along with a smattering of other confusing emotions: guilt, despair, worry, and determination to name a few. "Ron?" she asked sharply. "What is it? What's wrong?" Ron's grip unintentionally crushed her fingers, and Hermione winced again. "Ron?"

He averted his eyes, and Hermione scooted forward edgily. It wasn't like him to hide things from her unless he wanted to protect her from something really horrible. "Is it Dolohov? Did he escape?" she guessed. She grew fearfully lightheaded and nauseous at the thought, but it was the only possibility that she could think of.

"No, no," Ron reassured immediately. "No, he didn't escape." He couldn't look at her as he slid his hand up and down her arm a few soothing times. "He's dead, Hermione."

All of the air was knocked clean out of her. "Oh." She felt no remorse, of course, but from the way Ron was talking, it was the most horrible news they'd had since Ron had been kidnapped. "How?"

Ron still wouldn't look at her. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to speak, but Hermione gasped as she suddenly remembered a conversation she and Ron had had in the hospital wing at Hogwarts after their break-in at the Ministry. "Ron?"

"I had to," he said thickly, staring at her bruised hand with a scowl. "He was just getting ready to kill you, Hermione--I had to get him to stop." His hold on her hand grew even tighter, and he finally had the strength to look up at her, his eyes burning with savage fury. "I would die before I let anything hurt you, so I--" He broke off and reverted to staring down at their interlocked fingers again. "--I killed him." His body froze in irate tension, but he forced himself to continue on. "I did it for you, Hermione. I killed him for you."

**

Well, Hermione considered thoughtfully, maybe Ron or George know more than they're letting on. It would be just like Ron to know what had gone on and not tell her to protect her. He might have told George to keep his mouth shut, but maybe after three years it really wouldn't matter anymore. Enough time had passed that perhaps if she asked Ron for the truth, he'd be ready to give it to her.

He certainly hadn't been ready a year ago...

**

May 9, 2000

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Hermione's blood froze as she accidentally knocked over the mug of tea she had been sipping. Not now, she moaned as she grabbed her dressing gown and safely stowed her wand away out of sight. It was two o'clock in the morning, so there were only a few possibilities of who was there and why they were pounding on her door at this hour. The problem was that none of those options were very promising.

"Hermione? It's just me. Let me in."

Hermione exhaled in relief. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair as she hurried to the front door. She should have known that it would be him.

Ron Weasley was standing on her stoop, an old school robe slung haphazardly over a rumpled Chudley Cannons T-shirt and the navy blue plaid pajama pants Hermione had bought for him after graduation. His hair was unbelievably tousled, so much so that it almost rivaled Hermione's, and there were faint red lines cutting into his face from the indentation of his pillow. He had obviously been jerked out of a dead sleep, and after the night Hermione had had, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear why. Now that she was looking straight at him, sensing the crashing waves of worry radiating out of him, Hermione didn't know why she hadn't known it was Ron at her door. He was so consumed by whatever was bothering him that normally she would have felt him miles away. The fact that she didn't proved how distracted she really was.

"You all right?" Ron and Hermione asked almost simultaneously as Ron stepped into her foyer, his trained eye roving swiftly about the flat.

Hermione decided to answer him first; Ron was just as stubborn as she was. He wouldn't let up until he was sure she was okay. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Hermione answered as she closed the door and led the way into her living room. "What are you doing here?"

"You tell me." Ron was still glancing edgily around the apartment for any sign of danger. "Why were so scared?"

Hermione's stomach jumped. Oh. The strength of their empathic connection still startled her even today. "You felt that?" she said sheepishly.

"Yeah." Ron was finally satisfied that Hermione was the only one in the apartment, so he stashed his wand back into the pocket of his robes. He dropped down onto the sofa and held out a hand to pull Hermione down next to him. Gratefully, she curled up next to him, savoring the warmth of his body burning through her cheek as she rested her head on his shoulder. He slung a reassuring arm around her shoulder, pulling her even closer. "Now what happened?"

Nestled against him, Hermione felt profoundly safe and secure, and her earlier problems felt very insignificant. "It's silly," she said dismissively.

"Please," Ron contradicted. "You're not exactly the silly type."

She shifted her head ever so slightly so she could feel his heart drumming reassuringly beneath his chest. "It was just a bad dream," she said, trying to brush it off. She was feeling drowsy for the first time since she had bolted wide awake in pure terror, and she didn't want to lose that feeling.

"A nightmare?" He rested the side of his head against her crown sympathetically. He remembered all too well the many times Hermione's terror had jerked him awake in seventh-year. "You haven't had one of those in a while."

"I know," Hermione said with a sigh. "But they're coming back." She shivered slightly with the eerie memory of the nightmare. "Which is a good thing," she added optimistically to quell the prickling fear that was threatening to invade her once again.

"And why is that a good thing?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Because it was about the night Harry defeated Voldemort," Hermione explained. Dolohov's twisted sneer floated across her vision, and she closed her eyes against his horrible face while burrowing even deeper into Ron's warm body. "It means I'm finally starting to remember."

Ron's hand had been softly running through her hair, but with that statement, his fingers froze. "Great," he said flatly after a long pause.

Her drowsiness gone, she sat up, and sure enough it was written all over his face. "You know, Ron," she said sharply, "on most days, you're a halfway descent liar. You can even manage to fool me if it's really important enough. But at two o'clock in the morning, you're just plain awful at it." Ron shifted uncomfortably and Hermione stared challengingly at him. "Ron," she demanded, not even bothering to ask the question.

Ron abruptly shoved himself up from the couch. "I reckon I just don't understand why you want to remember," he explained tightly.

"Because it's important to me," Hermione said in what she hoped was a placating voice. There was a definite row looming ahead, and she really didn't want to get into it now. "It's driving me mad, Ron--"

"Why?" Ron interrupted angrily. It was only one word, but the intense way he growled it caused Hermione to stare up at him with surprise. His ears had already turned bright red--he was already furious. Ron's short temper was legendary, but she had never seen him get this angry this quickly. This really had to be a sensitive issue to him. "Why do you want to remember pain?" he demanded. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Ron was already off. "You may not remember what happened to you, Hermione, but I saw you right afterward. I remember, and believe me, it is not something I want you to remember!"

"Ron," Hermione said comfortingly even though she really was ready to join in the shouting frenzy. "Keep your voice down, you'll wake the neighbors--"

"What do you want to know?" Ron spat out abruptly. He pretended to think extremely hard to scour out the right memory. "Do you want to know that you couldn't even walk at first? That I actually had to carry you down the stairs? That you were in so much pain that you were puking up blood, and you had such trouble breathing that you couldn't even find it in you to cry--"

"Ron, stop," Hermione begged as she held up a hand to stop his rant. There was something about seeing his face as he said those awful words that made it even worse than actually living through it. For the first time in years, a stab of pain exploded in her chest, and Hermione hid a flinch. "I get it. It was painful," Hermione managed to get out as the sharp, restraining vise ripped through her lungs.

"Then why do you want to remember?" Ron exploded. He was so irate that he didn't even notice she had to sit down with her hand on her chest. "We lived through so much bloody pain. Why do you want to remember even more? Why the hell do you want even more pain in your life when things just got good again?"

"Because it's my life," Hermione snapped. "It's my life, and even if it's horrible, I want to know what happened to me, because it's my pain to bear!"

Ron rolled his eyes violently. "Why do you have to be so bloody independent?" he muttered.

"And why do you have to be so protective?" Hermione retorted viciously. They were starting to tread on dangerous territory, so Hermione swiftly changed the subject. She folded her arms over her chest. "And I want you to tell me how you killed Dolohov!"

Ron looked as though his world was about to suck him down into a black hole from which he could never return. "No."

"Why not?" Hermione shouted. "I want to know something about that night, and you don't want to cause me any pain! That won't cause me any pain, will it? You killed him to save me!"

"I know I did!" Ron yelled. "It's just--" He swallowed the slew of curse words he was about to let loose and took a deep breath. Continuing to scream at Hermione wasn't going to accomplish anything. "Look, think about it, Hermione. Say you had the chance to kill someone to save me. Say you ran into a room and saw Dolohov about to kill me." He sat down on the coffee table and looked at her steadily. "Would you do it?"

Hermione returned the challenging glare. "You know I'd die for you," she said flatly.

"No, that's not the question," Ron pointed out. "Would you kill someone to save me?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, but this answer had less confidence behind it.

"You wouldn't just hurt him? You wouldn't Stun him? You wouldn't jump in between him and me and get hit with whatever curse he was about use? You'd actually take someone's life?"

"If I had to, yes!" Hermione snapped. "It would be the last possible option, of course, but if it came to, yes, I would kill someone for you. Satisfied?"

Apparently, Ron was satisfied. His eyes flashed with mirthless satisfaction as he jumped forward intently and grabbed her hands. "I know you would," he said solemnly. "But I also know by the way you could hardly get the words out right now, it would tear you up. You'd do it for me, and I love that you would, but you would never be the same again." Ron focused on a point over Hermione's shoulder and fought down a heavy sigh. "Talk to anyone who's killed, Hermione. Even if it's for the right reasons, it stays with you forever." He ran a gentle hand over Hermione's forearm. "It stays in your very skin," he told her chillingly. "And I don't care what you say, Hermione, you could never kill anyone. You're the kindest person I know, and you just couldn't do it. Hell, you can't even stand hearing me tell you about what it's like." He gestured to her eyes, which were as wide as Fizzing Whizbees and as horror-struck as Harry was when he saw Voldemort being reborn. "I can't tell you, Hermione," he concluded despondent anger. "You've been through enough, and I won't put you through any more, and if that's not enough for you, I've been through enough and can't go through anymore, satisfied?"

Hermione ducked her head embarrassedly. Her stomach was positively pulsating with guilt. Ron had come over here to take care of her, and here she was making him talk about things that he never wanted to think about ever again. Although it seemed sometimes like they shared a soul, they still had very different views on certain matters. She preferred to attack problems and concerns head on, while Ron shied away from the matter at hand, hoping that it would solve itself. She knew that Ron would feel better if he released his pent-up emotions, but she couldn't force it out of him. It would only drive him away. Just like if she tried to force her memory to resurface, it would probably only remain hidden under the heavy blanket of amnesia. She sighed. Damn it, for once Ron was right.

"Ron, I didn't know," she said quietly. Ron was still staring morosely over her shoulder. She lifted herself up slightly so that he could no longer avoid her eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely. "You came over to help me, and I instead tried to make you--" Hermione broke off and just wrapped her fingers in his. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"I am too," Ron said heavily as he pulled her forward. He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead in apology. "I just want it to be over, y'know?" he explained huskily.

"It is," Hermione soothed as she felt his tension slowly dissipate. They remained nestled together for hours afterward, not saying a word, but both knowing that despite their reassuring words, it wasn't really over at all.

**

It will never really be over, Hermione reflected. And she wasn't sure she wanted it to end. The dark corners of her past, however terrible they might be, had made her who she was today. Hermione Granger had joined the magical world to learn as much as she could about it, but her education at Hogwarts hadn't only been confined to the classroom. In a way, she had learned more than she'd ever dreamed possible by fighting in a war rather than reading spells in a textbook. She wouldn't be the woman she was today if it weren't for her part in the war. It had been hell, yes, but she wouldn't trade her experience for anything.

Maybe that was why she had to know what had happened to her. Maybe in some bizarre way she was hoping to learn from her few minutes of torture. Or maybe it was the challenge of discovering the truth that was propelling her to continue her quest, even despite Ron's disapproval. He didn't know that she kept a dream journal, and he certainly didn't know that she tried to find a solution to her problem almost every day. She figured she'd tell him only if he asked or when she finally figured it out. He kept secrets from her about his job, so he shouldn't be surprised that she kept things from him. Granted, she hated that she didn't know what he was up to or where he was right this moment, and she knew it was petty to do the same thing to him, but it was the only way she could cope without pinning Ron down and demanding the full truth.

Damn Auror Secrecy Clause or whatever it's called, Hermione thought bitterly. But despite her harsh thoughts, a random picture of Ron's lopsided grin flashed in her mind, and a huge rush of loneliness swept over her. She fingered the rough cotton of the couch. She really missed her prat. He had been away for four days now, and she had no idea when she was going to see him again--

Hermione glanced at her watch again before getting to her feet and whistling for Pig. Being here was just going to make her miss Ron even more, and she wasn't in the mood to do any more work. Pig obediently twittered as he flew into his cage, and Hermione locked it before picking up the notes that she had just finished organizing. She stuffed them into her briefcase resolutely. If she couldn't be with Ron, she might as well get some work done so she could at least feel useful. Besides, if Ron happened to come home in the next few days, she would want to spend the precious time she had with him rather than having to catch up on her work.

It sometimes amazed Hermione that she and Ron could have a relationship when both of them were so insanely busy. She knew that there were other people who felt that way about them, namely her mother, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that for some bizarre reason, it worked. She and Ron worked. And nothing would ever change that. Nothing could come between them.

Hermione locked the door to Ron's apartment and was halfway down the hall when a rare cynical thought flashed through her mind. She dismissed it immediately, but a few months later, while she was looking back at that moment, Hermione realized that it was an eerie foreshadowing of what was to come.

How can something come between you when he's not even there?


Author notes: Thanks for reading!

Next up: Hermione takes a trip back to Hogwarts and discovers that Harry isn't the only one with a penchant for trouble...