Oblivious

Chapter 4: Going Home

~H~

It's the day after graduation, and we board the scarlet locomotive that is the Hogwarts Express, the last journey most of us will ever take on it. Ron, Harry, and I maneuver to have a compartment all to ourselves. When the old witch with the lunch cart comes around, Harry buys the lot and splits it three ways between us. We laugh, joke, and reminisce, completely forgetting that when we exit the train, it might be years before we see each other again.

"Hey, I got Ptolemy!" Harry exclaims, brandishing the wizard card from his Chocolate Frog.

Ron grabs it from Harry's hand and says, "Finally!" Then they start laughing at a joke known only to the two of them.

After a few minutes, Harry breaks the silence.

"I'm leaving on a secret mission for the Ministry when we exit the train, and I can't tell you where, why, or how long I'll be gone."

I look to Ron, whose expressionless face is staring out the window. He might not show it, but I know he must be having as much trouble digesting this information as I am.

"But Harry --" I begin.

"Don't say anything to try to persuade me otherwise, Hermione. This is something I have to do."

I am silent the short remainder of the trip.

When platform nine-and-three-quarters comes into view, I sigh deeply. Harry and Ron look and see the reason for my dismay. We all stand up and look at each other. I feel tears coming on, and I pull them both into a fierce hug. Soon we're all crying.

I pull back and look at Harry: his mussed-up black hair, his round-rimmed glasses, his shining emerald eyes, and his lightning bolt scar. "Harry, I want you to promise me a couple of things before you leave."

"Sure, Hermione. Anything."

"First, you will be in the wedding."

"Best man!" Ron speaks up.

"Best person. He's both of our best friend after all," I say.

Harry laughs through his tears. "Done."

"Second, you will keep in touch as often as humanly possible."

He shifts ever so slightly. "All right."

"Lastly . . . do be careful out there." Tears prick my eyes again, and I lower my head.

"Oh, Hermione. Please don't cry." He pulls me into an embrace. "Hey, if I can defeat Voldemort almost ten times without getting killed, I think I can take care of myself."

I smile and step back to allow Harry to say his good-byes to Ron.

-H-

This is it. Good-bye. When I leave here, I'm going to have to leave immediately to report to the Ministry of Magic about my strictly confidential assignment. I won't be able to hang out with Ron or even just visit very often.

I stand, just staring, trying to think of something to say. But what is there to say after a seven-year friendship? We've had our ups and downs, but we've grown so close. I'm going to have to just give all that up, and I can't even tell Ron why for fear of his own safety . . .

"All right, Harry?" he says, smiling through his watery eyes.

"All right. You?"

"All right." He looks out the window as the train slows to a stop and the steam blocks the view of the platform. Suddenly, he embraces me. "Do be careful out there, Harry. The wizarding world wouldn't be the same without you."

"I will. And don't you go and kill Percy or anything. And take good care of Hermione."

He laughs. "You got it." Pulling back, he wipes his eyes and exclaims, "Oy! I promised myself I wouldn't cry! And look at me, blubbering like a baby."

Hermione puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's best to get it out," she consoles through her own tears, kissing him on the cheek. He nods and turns to collect his baggage and exit the train. Hermione and I follow to do the same.

The platform is crowded with witches and wizards, all come to collect and congratulate their graduates. It's a good thing that the first through sixth years got out for summer recess two days earlier, or else no one would have enough room to move their little finger. The three of us push through the crowd to find Ron's parents. Immediately we spot them by their bright red hair.

"Here they come!" I hear Mrs. Weasley squeal.

"Calm down, Molly," says Mr. Weasley, patting her shoulder and smiling.

When we arrive, Mrs. Weasley grabs Ron and hugs him tightly, causing him to drop his bags and turn slightly blue in the face.

"Mum," he sputters. "Can't -- breathe."

"Molly, let the boy breathe!"

A final squeeze, then she turns to Hermione, who is holding on tight to Ron's hand by then. Mrs. Weasley looks at the two of them and bursts into tears, pulling Hermione into a hug also.

"Oh, Hermione, dear! I'm so happy for you! I always knew!"

When Hermione has finally gotten away, she asks breathlessly, "Mrs. Weasley, how did you know? You can't see the wedding token."

The elder witch smiles warmly and says, "A mother knows, dear. The sparkle in your and Ron's eyes is enough. I don't have to see the wedding token. Now come, all of you, to the Burrow to celebrate!"

My smile fades and I say, "Erm . . . I have to leave immediately. I can't say why or where to, but I must."

"But, Harry! You must come!" Mrs. Weasley cries.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I have urgent business for the Ministry."

"Molly, don't pressure him," Mr. Weasley said, suddenly looking slightly darker.

She frowns deeply, but says, "All right, since it's for the Ministry. But you will be in the wedding."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. Hermione has already forced me to promise," I say with a smile.

Tears well up in the elder witch's eyes again and she pulls me into an embrace. "Be careful out there, dear."

"I will, I promise."

She releases me, and I pick up my bags, turn, and head toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and back into the Muggle world.

-R-

Once Harry disappears from sight, Mum turns back to Hermione and me, smiling a watery smile.

"Well then, to the Burrow!" She heaves my bags along with Hermione's onto a trolley and hands it over to Dad. They begin to make her way through the now diminishing crowd of witches, wizards, and graduates, followed closely by Hermione and me.

As we travel to the Burrow, I consider what Harry's secret assignment could be. I figure that Dad must know, by the look on his face when Harry mentioned it, and since he works for the Ministry. I could ask him when we get home, but whether or not he'll tell me is a different story.

Hermione squeezes my hand and smiles at me, pushing the thought of Harry and his secret mission for the Ministry from my mind, if only temporarily. I return the smile.

This is it, Weasley. You know how you have a tendency to screw things up. Don't screw this one up!

At the Burrow, I find that the whole family is waiting to congratulate me on graduating. Bill's hair is longer than the last time I saw it and he has a new acquisition: a nose stud. Charlie's short-sleeved shirt reveals a number of large burns on his arms. Percy has brought along his own wife, Penelope Clearwater, who was a Ravenclaw in his year and is pregnant. Fred and George still live at home, while trying to get Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, their joke shop, off the ground. Angelina Johnson, who was a Gryffindor in the twins' year, is holding Fred's hand, as they've been together for a few years now. And little Ginny . . . who I notice isn't so little anymore.

Where did the time go?

When Hermione and I enter, I see that the whole house has been made up for the party. There are banners everywhere, the words "Congratulations on graduating, Ron!" flashing different colors. I see one in the corner that Fred and George obviously made, reading, "Happy Bar Mitzvah, Ickle Ronniekins!"

"What's a Bar Mitzvah?" I ask them.

They shrug, and Fred says, "Some Muggle celebration."

I roll my eyes.

Mum pulls out her wand and flicks it. Suddenly, all the banners are flashing, "Congratulations on your engagement, Hermione and Ron!" When everyone looks at them, their mouths drop open, and they stare at me. As expected, Fred and George find their voices first, but surprisingly no smart remark comes from either of their mouths as they sincerely wish us well.

After the initial congratulations, Mum insists that we all sit down and eat, in typical Mum fashion. She ushers us outside to enjoy the summer evening, since twelve people can't comfortably eat in our dining room. She pressures us into seconds and thirds, until we can eat no more for fear of bursting. When we finish, she clears the empty plates with a swish of her wand. Angelina, Fred, George, Bill, Ginny, and Charlie Summon their broomsticks and go off to play Quidditch.

"So, have you thought about the wedding, Ron?" Mum asks almost immediately afterward, trying to sound casual.

I knew it . . . "No, Mum, not yet. We just got engaged last night, and we were kind of busy today. Besides, I thought I'd let you, Hermione, Ginny, Penelope, and Angelina handle it, seeing as how you women love that sort of thing."

Her eyes light up. "Oh, Ron, I would be honored to help plan it!" She turns to Hermione. "Have you ever been to a wizard wedding, dear?"

"No, Mrs. Weasley, but I've always been interested."

"Please, dear, call me 'Mum,' or at least 'Molly.' 'Mrs. Weasley' is just too formal for my future daughter-in-law to call me . . . " Her eyes start to tear up.

Dad reaches over and puts a hand on hers.

"Oh, Arthur!" she says, looking up and starting to weep loudly. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry. But it's just going to be so beautiful! I can just see her now in her beautiful wedding robes . . ."

Hermione blushes slightly and looks down at her wristwatch, gasping. "Oh no! I told my mum I'd be home at 8:00. I have 30 minutes to travel all the way to Bristol!"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Mum says cheerfully. "Arthur can hook up your parents' fireplace to the Floo network, and you would be there in a jiffy! I'm sure they'll understand."

"Well, I don't know. That type of thing tends to make them uncomfortable."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," I say. "Would your mum rather you be late using Muggle transportation or on time using a perfectly normal -- well, maybe not to them -- mode of wizard transportation?"

She ponders it a few moments more, then she finally agrees. "All right, as long as you go with me, Ron."

"Done. I rather want to be there when you tell your mum the news. Dad, could you make the arrangements?"

"Sure, son. It will take just a moment."