Hermione Granger and the Beginning of the End

Hermione couldn't help feeling a sense of déjà vu as she sat alone in the compartment of the Hogwarts Express. The last time she'd ridden on the train alone, she had been on her way home for Christmas in sixth-year, on her way to tell her parents the truth about what was going on at Hogwarts. Now she was sitting here alone, on her way to have yet another important conversation with her parents. Not many students went home for the Easter holidays, so it had been quite easy to secure a compartment for herself. She had slept for the majority of the journey, but now she was sitting up, watching the green hills zip by with an unopened book on her lap and a very special boy on her mind. Ron had walked her down to Hogsmeade to say good-bye--he had actually seemed nervous to see her go. She knew it was because this would be an obviously ideal opportunity for Lucius Malfoy to pounce on her, but in all honesty she wasn't that concerned. Charms and wards had been placed on ! her home in fifth-year, and she was absolutely positive that the letter hadn't been forged. Her parents really wanted her to come home. She smiled again at the thought. Her parents wanted her back home.

A bout of nerves assailed her as the train slowed to a stop, and she rose to collect her bag--she would only be home for two days, so she'd managed to cram everything into her schoolbag and had left Crookshanks and Rowena to Ginny's care. Well, she remembered with a smirk, she had tried to leave Crookshanks with Ginny. She had informed Crookshanks that she was leaving for a bit, and her cat had immediately streaked out of her room in a huff. Annoyed, Ron had then informed her that Crookshanks had spent the night on his bed. Ron hadn't gotten along with Crookshanks in the beginning, but ever since Scabbers had been out of the picture there had been no secret of Crookshanks' affection for him--probably sensing Hermione's for the prat. However, it was a bit one-sided. Ron didn't particularly fancy cats, even if the cat in question did happen to be his girlfriend's. Crookshanks was much too stubborn, however, to take no for an answer, so Hermione knew that he wo! uld be sleeping in the seventh-year boys' dormitory for the next couple of nights.

She hopped onto the platform and shifted nervously from one foot to the other as she waited her turn to slip through the barrier. In a few minutes, she would be seeing her parents again. She took a deep, calming breath. They want to see you, she reminded herself. They asked you to come. There's absolutely nothing to be nervous about. These comforting thoughts did little to settle her churning stomach, but the time had come. She had avoided her parents for long enough, and she needed them back in her life. She had faced Tom Riddle and countless Death Eaters, for heaven's sake. She should be able to face her parents.

Hermione squared her shoulders and passed through the barrier.

There they were, right on time, and precisely at their prearranged spot under an archway at the end of the platform. They hadn't seen her just yet, so Hermione paused to look at them for a moment. Her dad's hair was becoming peppered with gray, her mum looked as though she had on a pair of new glasses, but other than that they were exactly as she remembered them. Her father had a hand on her mum's shoulder, and her mum was nervously wringing a handkerchief and biting her lip. Hermione laughed under her breath--she had never noticed before that she'd picked up that habit from her mum.

Her father spotted her first. His eyes widened, and he bent forward slightly and whispered in his wife's ear. Helen Granger stiffened and stood on her tiptoes--she was only five feet, four inches--and audibly gasped when she saw her daughter. The crowd jostled around them, but none of the Grangers really noticed. Her father nudged her mum forward, and before Hermione knew it, her mother had grasped her in a tight embrace. Hermione sniffed as she hugged back. Her mum had been the strongest advocate for keeping her away from Hogwarts, and the fact that she was hugging her like this had to mean that something had changed between them. Helen Granger stepped back in order to proudly take in the sight of her daughter, while William Granger came forward to hold his little girl in his arms. Hermione felt like she was five years old again as her father rocked her back and forth. After everything that had happened over the past year, it felt good to be held like this again! --blissfully ignorant of the troubles that plagued their world. Her mother came back to her side and softly stroked her hair. Hermione vividly remembered how at Dean's funeral she had wished so desperately for her parents to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Someone up there must be looking out for her, because that wish had finally come true.

**

Hermione yawned as she shuffled through the living room in her blue flannel pajama pants and white, well-worn T-shirt. She paused briefly when she saw the light on in the kitchen, but she knew precisely who it had to be. For as long as she could remember, her mum had never stayed up past ten o'clock. "Dad?" Hermione asked curiously as she passed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Her father was standing in front of the stove, watching the tea kettle in anticipation.

William Granger smiled with pleasure. "Hi, honey, what are you doing up?"

"Reading," Hermione said airily as she went to the refrigerator. One of the things she really missed about the Muggle world was the presence of cranberry juice--the magical world seemed rather enamored with pumpkin juice--so Hermione poured herself a rather large glassful to make up for it. It was well past midnight, but she wasn't at all tired. She had brought home a few books on Dark magic and had just finished paging through the last one. It was rather frustrating that she had found absolutely nothing that would account for the abnormal presence of Muggle girls in the Malfoy's house, but at least she could rule out the possibility that it might be some sort of spell. When she returned to Hogwarts tomorrow, she could start looking up potions. "What about you?"

Her father glanced over at the kettle before turning his back on it, in hopes that the adage about a watched pot never boiling would prove true. "Finishing up with some finances," he explained as he wearily rubbed his eyes. "You know how your mother is absolutely useless in that field, although she'd never admit it." Hermione laughed quietly before taking a long sip of the tart juice. The kettle finally whistled, and Mr. Granger pounced on it. "So, is it nice to be home?"

"Yes," Hermione said honestly. "It's been so good to see you and Mum again. I wish I could stay longer."

"No, you don't," William contradicted. "You can't wait to get back." He leaned against the counter behind him and looked at his daughter carefully. "I wish I could see you there," he said wistfully. "Just the way your eyes light up when you talk about school--" He shook his head with fatherly pride. "It must really be something to see you actually there." Hermione averted her eyes a bit guiltily. She wished she could bring her parents to Hogwarts so that she could show them the world she loved so much, but at the present time it was just too dangerous to bring Muggles to Hogwarts. He stirred his tea and took a sip. "And to think that we wanted to keep you from there."

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully for a moment. She'd had a long talk with her parents when she had first come home, and they had apologized for reacting so poorly to the truth about Hogwarts. They didn't want to cut her out of their lives any longer, and they were ready to hear about everything that went on at school with open minds. Hermione had obliged, and although they had been horrified to hear about all that she had done, Hermione could also tell that they were proud to have a daughter who could handle herself in dangerous times such as these. They had stayed up almost all night--her parents had asked loads of questions, and Hermione had answered them as honestly as she could. She was also going to send them a few books on magical matters to help them understand just a bit better. Hermione knew that one of the primary reasons they had been so troubled by what she had told them was that they didn't know anything about the magical world. Her parents were very ! similar to her--if they didn't understand something, it terrified them. Although she tried and tried to explain magic to them, they just couldn't grasp it, most likely because they were Muggles. Hermione just hoped that now they at least had a grasp on the broad concept of magic. She had to admit that it felt so good to share all of her adventures and mishaps with them. Somehow, those momentous events in her life just hadn't seemed complete without her parents' knowledge and support.

She had been having such a good holiday that she hadn't wanted to bring up this subject, but now that she was standing in her kitchen with her father, she knew she had to ask. "Dad?" she began tentatively. She set down her now empty glass of juice and tucked her wild hair nervously behind her ear. Her father looked at her expectantly. "Why did you change your mind?" Hermione asked. "I mean, last time I was here, you didn't want anything to do with the magical world--or me, for that matter."

William Granger nodded thoughtfully and set down his tea. "Come with me," he said in lieu of an answer. Hermione padded in her bare feet after him, tripping slightly on the hem of her pajamas as she followed him into his study. She burrowed her toes into the plush ornamental rug as Mr. Granger went behind his desk and opened his second drawer. "Do you know about these?" Hermione took a curious step forward as he pulled out a pile of papers. She shook her head and her dad picked up the top sheet and began to read:

I don't know if Hermione's told you about this bloke Viktor Krum, but he came to visit her today. Don't worry, he doesn't want to date her or anything disgusting like that. He came to offer her a job. It's a great offer, and we all know that Hermione deserves it. The only problem is that she would have to move to Bulgaria.

I know that I ask you this every time I write, and you're probably tired of hearing it, but now it's more important than ever. You could seriously lose her this time--we could all lose her if she moves over there--but I think if we can remind her of how much we want her here, she'd stay. I'm not asking you to talk her out of it, because for one thing, Hermione would kill me if she ever found out, but also because it's her decision to make. I'm not about to ask anyone to make it for her. I made a decision for her once before, and it was the biggest mistake I'd ever made.

I'm not saying that you've lost your daughter, but I know what it's like to lose her, and it's the worst thing that ever happened to me. Believe me, after everything I've told you, that's really saying something. I lost her once, I just got her back, and I really don't want to lose her again. So, even if you are still mad at her, if you could just talk to her and let her know that you still love her. She needs to know, before she decides to run off to Bulgaria. It wouldn't only mean everything to her, it would mean everything to me.

William Granger looked up from Ron's spiky handwriting. Hermione had dropped limply down into one of the armchairs, looking as though the wind had been knocked out of her. "Are you really thinking about moving to Bulgaria?"

She shook her head dumbly. I made a decision for her once before, and it was the biggest mistake I'd ever made. Ron had learned--he had realized how wrong he had been and he had learned from it. I lost her once, I just got her back, and I really don't want to lose her again. Hermione placed her hand over her quivering lip. She really wished he was here right now, because she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him.

Her father set the letter back down onto the pile, and Hermione swallowed hard as she stared at the thick stack. Had Ron really written all of that? Her father sensed her eyes on them and picked up the entire pile of papers. "Do you want to read them?" he offered quietly.

"Them?" Hermione asked weakly.

William gave a tight smile. "He's been writing to us for months, Hermione." Hermione couldn't even lift her hand to take the letters with the shock of that bit of news. "He writes to us once a month to tell us how you are and to ask us to talk to you again." He sat down on the ottoman in front of Hermione's chair, fiddling with the stack of letters. Hermione just stared at her father with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I think the first one came in June, around the time your term ended." He frowned down at the parchment as he sifted through them to find the right one. "Yes, here it is."

Hermione could barely hold the letter as she read Ron's wonderfully familiar handwriting.

June 24^th

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,

We met once five years ago in Diagon Alley, but I reckon you may not remember me. I'm Ron Weasley and I'm a friend of Hermione's. I don't know what's she told you about me, if anything, but let me just say that I really, really care about your daughter, which is why I'm writing you this letter.

She told me yesterday that she wouldn't be able to come home for the summer holidays, and although she said that it was a mutual decision and a load of other crap some other stuff, I know Hermione. She really misses you, and she'd rather be at home, no matter what she says. She's been doing great by the way--top marks on her exams again, of course. She should be getting her Head Girl letter any day now. With any luck, I'll be able to be Head Boy right beside her, but she's the one who really deserves it. She's got a job at the Daily Prophet--a newspaper--and I think she wants to be a reporter. She'd be great at it. I know you'd be really proud of her--we all are.

I know that you would rather not hear this from me, so I just wanted to ask you to think about writing to her and asking her to come back home. It would really mean a lot to her. I know that she hasn't written to you only because she thinks that you don't want to have anything to do with her, but I know that can't be true. You can't meet Hermione and not want to be around her.

You have to be confused and hurt about all that she told you, but Hermione's the best witch I've ever seen. She can take care of herself, and she tore herself up for keeping it from you for so long. She only really did it because I told her to wait until she was of age so that she could stay at Hogwarts with me. I know it doesn't make it any better, but you have to believe me. It may seem like she's leaving you behind as she grows up, but Hermione really needs you right now. So please, please talk to her. Hermione may've told you about me, so you might know that I'm just as stubborn as she is. I'm going to keep writing to you until you talk to her again, so unless you want to keep putting up with me, just talk to her, please.

Ron Weasley

Hermione ran her fingers over the rough parchment, imagining Ron sprawled out on his bed and scribbling away on the paper. Knowing him, it had taken him hours to write it--he would have been terribly nervous about writing to her parents, since he'd only met them once, several years ago. It had taken a great deal of courage for him to write so honestly and from the heart. As always, however, once he put his mind to it, he did it incredibly well. Not only that, but he was telling an outright lie for her sake--she had been the one to insist that she wait until she was seventeen before coming clean with her parents. Ron must have thought that the lie would hopefully make her parents less angry with her, even if the lie would make them like him less. She let out a little breath as she ran circles around his signature. Why, why was he always so wonderful like this even when she didn't know it? Did he ever stop--everyone had to have an off day,! but Ron Weasley was always going to be her knight in shining armor.

"Are these--are these why you asked me to come back?" Hermione whispered as she flipped through the pile of letters.

Her father raked a tired hand through his hair before nodding. "Your friend is certainly very persistent," he commented wryly. "I think I was convinced by the fourth letter, but your mum took a bit more time." He leaned forward to rummage through the letters once again and extracted another one. "I think it was this passage that did it for me." He stabbed his finger near the bottom of the page.

I think you already know this about Hermione, but she's a bit mental. Barking mad, really. Whenever she gets something in her head, she just does it no matter what you do or say. She's honestly the most determined person I've ever met. I've never seen anyone get so worked up over something like a small amount of homework, but Hermione never does anything second rate. She drives me up the wall half the time--hell, most of the time--but there's really no place I'd rather be than with her.

"He certainly has you spot-on, doesn't he?" her father teased, but Hermione could tell that he was impressed with Ron, nevertheless. Her father knew how much courage it had taken Ron to write to them persistently about a touchy issue such as theirs. "I knew then that you were being looked after, because I thought these same things when I first met your mother, and I'd do anything for Helen." William lost himself to the memories of his younger, simpler days, while Hermione hastily wiped away her tears. She didn't want her father to see her crying over what Ron had written, but he was just so sweet that her heart was aching to see him again. Her father looked a bit uncomfortable as he continued speaking. "This Ron is the one you've been seeing, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," Hermione said almost inaudibly.

"I think that's why we were slower on the uptake," William explained matter-of-factly. "From these letters, it's obvious to see that this boy is quite taken with you, so I think that we were more hesitant to trust him, since--well, you know." He cleared his throat awkwardly as he did whenever the subject of his daughter and boys came up. "Your mother actually wrote to Ron asking him to stop writing--just a few days before the last letter came." Mr. Granger chuckled. "He wrote her straight back, and he told her that there was 'no bloody way' he was going to stop until she gave in. Two days later, we got the last letter about Viktor and Bulgaria. It gave your mother quite a turn. She never thought you'd leave. I think she always hoped that you'd come back to the Mu--Muggle way." Hermione nodded. She had sensed that her mother was much less receptive to her descriptions of the magical world. "Not only that, but she's always fancied the idea of you and the Bateman! boy together."

Hermione laughed quietly. "Knowing Jeremy did come in handy," she conceded. If she hadn't been forced to tea, she never would have been able to Apparate to Grantham. She glanced up at her father. "What do you think about all this, Dad?"

William Granger reflected for a moment, summarizing his thoughts. "Like I said before, I think that you're where you belong. Although I can't deny that I'm not incredibly worried about you being there, at the same time," he gestured down to the letters now on Hermione's lap, "if you are even half as talented as Ron says you are, and if he is even half as in love with you as he seems to be on paper, then I think you are in very good hands." He cleared his throat again. "And contrary to what your mother believes, I think that you've made a very good choice where Hogwarts--and Ron--are concerned."

Hermione flung her arms around her father, although a small part of her really wished that it could be Ron that she was hugging. He was the one that she really needed to thank for her reunion with her parents. It was all because of him that this had happened. He had just known how much she was upset with her parents, and being the selfless prat that he was, had taken care of her just like always. Not only that, but he had written the majority of these letters while they weren't even together. Hermione swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. If she had ever needed tangible, foolproof evidence that Ron had loved her all along, then this was it. Every thought, every line, every word was laced with the love Ron had for her. Reading those letters had left Hermione with an incredible sense of completion. She could feel it down to the very tip of her toes and all the way into her soul.

Her dad patted her on the back, feeling a bit nostalgic. He hadn't seen his daughter in well over a year. He had left her as a girl, but she was now a woman. His little girl was grown up and in love, and although he knew he would always have a very special corner of Hermione's heart, he would no longer be the number one man in her life. Suddenly feeling very weary and old, William Granger smoothed his daughter's hair and rose from the ottoman. "I'll leave you to it," he said quietly, but he really meant that he was leaving her to the author of those letters. As far as he was concerned, Ron and his daughter had his blessing.

**

Hermione's heart was still bursting with thoughts of Ron when she ran into the Great Hall late the next morning. It was originally planned that her parents would drive her to King's Cross, and that she would then take the Hogwarts Express back to school, but that wouldn't allow her to get back to Hogwarts until that evening. She just couldn't wait that long to see him, so she had summoned the Knight Bus about a half-mile away from her house, so as a precaution, no one aboard would see where she lived. Once on board, she bought passage back to Hogwarts. She had sat in a plush armchair, bouncing her leg with infinite impatience as they dropped off four other passengers first. She had arrived at the gates about five minutes ago, just in time for lunch. Ron never missed a meal, especially if he slept through breakfast, which he often did on holidays, so he ought to be there.

Except he wasn't. Hermione stamped her foot as she hastily scanned the Great Hall again. Where was he? She saw Ginny watching her curiously, so she went over to her friend. "Have you seen Ron?"

"Uh-I think he should be coming down in a bit," Ginny replied as she gave her friend an odd look. "Are you okay? You look a bit funny."

"I'm fine--I just--he's just--" Hermione couldn't stop a huge stupid smile from spreading across her face, and she didn't really care if the whole world saw it. Ginny started to giggle, and she patted the bench next to her.

"Tell me," she goaded gleefully.

But just then Hermione caught the glorious sight of Weasley hair out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to the entrance to see Ron and Harry walking in for lunch, laughing about something. Forgetting about Ginny entirely, Hermione stepped away from the bench, suddenly feeling very shy. There he was--the boy who loved her so much--standing not fifty feet away from her. Her heart swelled, seeming to fill up her entire chest at the sight of him, and she completely forgot that there were other people in the room. In her mind, there was only Ron--there would always be only Ron.

Harry came back into focus as he spotted her first. Eyes widening in surprise, he nudged Ron and gestured toward her. She was already running toward them, and Ron quickly stepped forward to greet her. However, he certainly didn't expect to be seized in a bone-crushing hug that left him gasping for breath. He didn't expect for someone as small as Hermione to be this strong, but then again, he really shouldn't be so surprised--she was the strongest person he had ever met. Harry watched for a moment before drifting slightly away, remaining at close range in case something was wrong that he needed to know about.

"Hey," Ron managed to get out despite the fact that Hermione was squeezing the air out of him. She had his arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her face buried into his shoulder. Her toes barely grazed the ground, since he was several inches taller than her. He kept his arms around her to help her keep her balance--and to keep her close, since she had been gone for three days. As embarrassing as it was for him to admit it in front of Harry and his other mates, he had missed her terribly. For some stupid reason, Hermione felt like crying, despite the fact that he had made her feel more loved and cherished than anyone had ever before. Ron caught her disguised sniffle, and, concerned, he held her even closer. "What is it?"

Hermione gently disentangled herself from him, taking both of his hands in hers. She couldn't bear to lose contact with him just yet. Blinking rapidly, she stared up at him with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. "You did that for me," she said quietly. "You wrote all of those wonderful things about me." She gulped and sniffed again. "You really did that for me?" She couldn't raise her voice above a whisper because the love that she had for him seemed to be clogging her vocal cords.

"Oh," Ron breathed as if he had been punched in the stomach. "You read them?" Hermione nodded wordlessly, and Ron looked embarrassed. "Well, yeah," he admitted, his ears starting to turn red. "I mean, I know you don't like to talk about it, but I knew how much you missed them. I just had to do something." He gave her one of those lopsided grins that melted her heart into a quivering puddle. "I thought they'd stop reading them after a while--what?"

Hermione's hands were inching up his arms. "You--you just don't realize what you did, do you?" Her hands now were playing with the thread on the shoulders of his shirt. "You did it, Ron." She blinked even more as a tear fought its way out of the corner of her eye. "You got them back for me."

"Oh, I don't know," Ron started to protest, but Hermione couldn't take it any longer. Being this near to him, knowing about what he'd done for her, convinced her right then and there that the time had come, and she immediately acted on it. Grabbing his shirt tightly, she pulled him down toward her. Finally, mercifully, and brilliantly, she kissed him right then and there.

Bells rang in her ears. Dull explosions burst inside of her brain. Her heart sang a sweet song that touched her very soul in the way that the phoenix's song uplifted the brave of heart. She sank into him, reveling in the fact that this boy, who was so wonderful and was everything that she had ever wanted, could also kiss her in a way that made her heart pound, and her mind spin to dizzying heights, away from all of the atrocities of the world. She vaguely felt her hands travel up to clasp behind his neck, and the way her skin tingled from where Ron had slid his hands down her back to her waist, but she was in too much of a daze to pay any attention. All of her energy was being spent on pouring into the kiss all of her love, all of her faith, and all of her joy. Finally, she was ready, willing, and perfectly able to join herself with Ron once again, with all of her heart, body and soul. She was no longer just Hermione Granger, because everything that she was,! she would now share with him. Everything that she had to give would be his.

The world was still spinning, the bells were still pealing, and the music of her heart was still echoing in her soul, so Hermione completely missed that the entire Great Hall had burst out into enthusiastic applause. After all, even a Slytherin could see that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were back where they belonged.