Lost and Found

VI

Rules

"Hermione, we have got to pick a date," said Ron exasperatedly.

Sighing, Hermione said, "I know, Ron. It's just that I thought we would have heard from Harry by now and I don't think we should set a date if we don't know where we're going to live."

"Hermione," Ron took her hand across the kitchen table. "I don't think we're going to hear from Harry."

"That's what you said when we first wrote to him," Hermione gently reminded him. "Besides, he said he would think about it. He has to give us an answer one way or the other," she insisted.

"I don't think he's going to."

Hermione signed again. "You used to have more faith in Harry."

"It's been three weeks!" Ron exclaimed loudly. There was a shushing sound from the living room and Ron glared at the doorway. He wished babies would actually go to sleep when they were supposed to. Not to mention, he didn't make shushing noises when crying babies and other noisy relatives were keeping him awake.

Lowering his voice, he continued, "Anyway, this is different. This isn't the Harry I knew. The Harry I knew disappeared the night the war ended."

"Disappeared down a hallway," Hermione muttered.

"What?"

Hermione gave herself a mental shake and smiled at Ron. "Nothing. I'm sorry, Ron. You're right. Let's fix a date."

Ron smiled back. "We can come back here after our honeymoon and stay only as long as it takes to make arrangements for somewhere else."

"I know," she said. But Hermione admitted to herself that while it didn't matter where they lived as long as they were together, she was also disappointed that Harry had seemingly let them down by not even doing her the courtesy of sending her an owl with his decision.

~*~

After much thought and consideration, Ron and Hermione chose the day of the summer solstice for their wedding. As soon as the date was set Mrs. Granger demanded her daughter give her at least a full day devoted to dress shopping.

Hermione had read her mother's letter aloud to Ron who had rolled his eyes. Hermione, who was not much more excited about this event than Ron was, had sighed.

"I suppose," she had said resignedly, "since I'm not having the big wedding she always imagined, I should at least let her have a day for dress shopping. I do have to find something, anyway."

Ron had grunted. "I reckon you'll want me to be all dressed in Muggle finery."

Smiling, Hermione said, "At the very least, Ron, I expect you to be wearing very fine dress robes."

Narrowing his eyes, Ron said, "Define 'very fine.'"

"Let me put it this way, Ron," she answered, patting Ron's cheek. "If you look at them and wonder whether or not I'll like them, then they aren't good enough."

Ron pulled a face and took his turn to sigh as Hermione removed her hand from his face. "I guess I ought to make this Saturday a shopping day as well, then."

"That," said Hermione, "sounds like a very good idea." She got up from the kitchen table to respond to her mother's letter.

"Hermione," said Ron, his voice stopping her in the doorway.

Turning around Hermione asked, "Yes?"

"Would you do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Don't get a dress that's all poufy and frilly and..." Ron trailed off as words failed him.

"What are you saying, Ron?" Hermione wasn't sure she really wanted to know where Ron's train of thought had been headed.

There was an expression of what seemed to be indecision on Ron's face, as he seemed to be searching for words. Finally he blurted, "Just don't get a dress because it's what's your mum wants. I don't want you to look like--" Ron stopped suddenly and turned red.

"A meringue?" Hermione asked, swallowing a smile.

The color in Ron's face deepened a bit. "Well, yeah," he said quietly. "I just, well, I just want you to look like you."

Hermione smiled broadly. She thought it was quite possibly the sweetest thing he had ever said to her. "I'll do my best," was all she said before leaving the room.

~*~

Hermione felt that she had never been so irritated with her mother as she was by the afternoon of the shopping trip. By lunch they had been to two bridal shops where Mrs. Granger had picked out the fussiest and most startlingly overdone dresses for Hermione to try on. Hermione barely had a chance to even look for something on her own as the minute they had walked into each shop there were sales clerks waiting to pounce and as soon as they did Mrs. Granger, holding Hermione tightly by the arm, told the helpful ladies what she was looking for.

By the time they entered the sixth shop, late in the afternoon, Mrs. Granger was out of sorts at the idea that her daughter might, indeed, be married in dress robes and Hermione had a splitting headache from the constant teeth-clenching she had been doing since late morning.

The first difference Hermione noticed as she and her mother entered The Nuptial Nook was that there were no eager saleswomen in sight. Mrs. Granger immediately began "oohing" and "ahhing" over a gown on display and, as her eyes darted around the shop seeking sales help, Hermione slipped quietly to the back of the store to browse through the sample racks.

Mrs. Granger had finally found a shop assistant and, as Hermione listened to her mother discussing her woes at their ever finding the right dress, Hermione pulled a sample off the rack and escaped into a fitting room. There she tried the dress on; taking her time with the numerous fabric covered buttons that ran halfway up her back.

This was the dress.

It didn't have beads, sequins, tulle, a plunging neckline, a plunging backline, a large bow on the bum, a ten-foot train or feathers. (Hermione shuddered at the memory of that dress. It had been her mother's favorite, thus far.) It wasn't frothy or slinky or daring, but it was exactly what she wanted.

Hermione looked in the mirror and thought of Ron seeing her in this dress. Not only would the word 'meringue' never enter his head but, hopefully, he would find himself at a complete loss for words.

As Hermione was imaging the myriad expressions she might see on Ron's face, she heard her mother calling her.

"Hermione? Dear, I've got some dresses for you to try on." Stepping out of the fitting room, Hermione greeted her mother and saw her frown. "Well, that's different."

"I know," said Hermione happily. "And it's just what I've been looking for."

"What? That?"

"Yes." Hermione smiled brightly and turned to look in the three-way mirrors that were placed around the outside of the fitting rooms.

"But, Hermione--"

"Yes?" she asked distractedly.

"It's pink."

"I know. But not very." Hermione turned back to face her mother and the material made a soft swishing sound that almost had practical, no-nonsense Hermione swooning. She stood quietly as Mrs. Granger stepped back to take a good look.

The dress was made of a pale pink satin organza and was sleeveless with a modest v-neckline in both the front and back. The pink was further muted by an overlay of embroidered lace that just reached the floor in a gentle scalloped pattern; a sash of pink organza gathered at the waist.

Mrs. Granger finished her perusal of the dress and looked at Hermione's beaming face. "You're sure?" she asked. Hermione nodded.

"Well," sighed her mother, "if that's the one."

"Oh, it is, Mum. It is."

~*~

Ron put off his own shopping trip for as long as he could. When he finally ran out of excuses, and Fleur and Angelina, aware of where he was really supposed to be, pushed him out the door, he made his way to Diagon Alley.

For several long moments he stood in front of Madame Malkin's just staring at the sign. With a deep breath he finally stepped into the shop. Madame Malkin must have been having a slow day. As Ron's eyes adjusted from the brightness outside, the shop's proprietress hurried towards him.

"And what can I help you with today?" she asked brightly.

"Er, well, I'm meeting my brother here." The idea had suddenly occurred to him and he hoped it would enable him to leave and come back later. For some reason he felt quite nervous about buying robes for his wedding.

Just then the little bell over the door tinkled and Ron sighed in relief. Another customer would take Madame Malkin away from him and he could just look around and take his time thinking.

"Ron!" boomed an altogether too familiar voice and he grimaced as the voice continued. "I thought I saw you come in here."

Ron and Madame Malkin both turned to see George grinning and striding toward them.

Ron swore mentally but said aloud, "Uh, hi, George."

"Is this the brother you were waiting for?" asked Madame Malkin.

George, seeming to take in the slightly green tint to Ron's complexion, slapped his brother on the shoulder and said, "Yes, that would be me! Now, what are we looking for, again?"

With his brother and Madame Malkin both looking at him expectantly, Ron finally managed, "Dress robes."

Madame Malkin appeared satisfied and said, "Ah, dress robes. And may I ask what the occasion is?" She was starting toward the section of the shop where the dress robes were kept.

When Ron didn't answer right away, George stepped in. "For his wedding, I believe," he said.

Truly excited now, Madam Malkin clasped her hands together in front of her and said, "Oh, how wonderful! Just come this way."

As they followed Madame Malkin, Ron muttered to George, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Fred told me to keep an eye out for you. It seems Fleur and Angelina knew you were supposed to be doing this today and when you seemed to be hanging around the Burrow they got concerned you wouldn't follow through. What's the problem, anyway?"

Ron mumbled something George did not catch as they stopped behind Madam Malkin, who was pulling things from a rack and flinging them over her arm.

"Sorry, mate, what was that?" prodded George.

Glaring at his brother, Ron said, "I'm afraid I'm going to pick something Hermione will hate."

Madame Malkin heard Ron's comment and stopped sifting through robes to look at him. "Nonsense, my dear," she harrumphed. "We'll make sure you get something your fiancée will love."

"Yeah," added George. "After all, she's getting you. She can't be that picky."

Ron shot another nasty look at George as Madame Malkin thrust an armful of robes in Ron's arms and bustled him off to the fitting area.

The first set of robes Ron tried on came to just below his knees while the sleeves landed somewhere mid-arm. George was overcome by gales of laughter when Ron claimed he felt like a giraffe in a midget's clothing.

The second set of robes overcompensated and Ron tripped as he left the fitting room. While the third set fit more or less okay, they were made of a fabric that shimmered gold when Ron moved. George seemed interested in these but Ron was not too keen on them and, in addition to the fact that they also made him itch, he knew Hermione would hate them.

Ron trudged back into the fitting room where he was rewarded with robes covered in ruffles. He didn't even bother coming out in those and shuddered at the flashback to the Yule Ball he had attended in fourth year.

Madame Malkin handed another set over the door to Ron and he came out grimacing. "Maroon!" he exclaimed. "I hate maroon!"

Tsking at Ron, Madame Malkin said, "Your mother would have loved those."

Ron looked surprised and George ceased laughing. "What?" asked Ron.

"Molly always thought you looked wonderful in that color," said Madame Malkin. "She used to tell me, 'Ronnie hates this color but I don't think he has any idea how good he looks in it.'"

Chagrined, Ron looked at George. The truth was he had heard his mother tell him on more than one occasion that she thought maroon looked good on him. He had just never been able to get past the fact that he truly hated the color to care how it actually looked on him. Ron felt a twinge of sadness at this blatant reminder of the fact that his mother was not here and would not be sharing in his wedding day.

Ron turned back to Madame Malkin. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Do you have anything a little less maroon?"

The storeowner was thoughtful for a moment. Ron began to feel nervous as she stood with her arms crossed in front of her and tapped the fingers of one hand on the other arm.

Finally, she said, "Wait here," and disappeared through a door at the back of the shop. A few minutes later she returned with a bundle in her arms and handed it to Ron. "Try these," she said, guiding him back to the fitting room.

Without a word Ron took the bundle and went to change. When he came out the expression on his face told Madame Malkin and George that he had found what he was looking for.

The robes were a stoic black made of a very fine material Ron could not identify. They were lined with maroon and on the outside had maroon piping edging the collar and cuffs.

Ron looked in the mirror. They were perfect. He had not only chosen robes that Hermione could not object to, but by wearing the maroon he would be paying tribute to his mother and, in a way, making sure she was at his wedding after all.

"I'll take them," he said confidently.

Behind him Madame Malkin beamed and George nodded.

~*~

Fleur had recently been cooking up a storm as she had volunteered to make all the food for the reception. As the wedding was so small, there would only be hors d'oeuvres and a sweet table and Fleur, who was doing most of the work herself and had proven to be quite a good cook, had conscripted Angelina into helping her when necessary. They both said they were delighted to be making this contribution to Ron and Hermione's wedding.

As a result of this Ron was often tempted by the tantalizing smells in the kitchen while Hermione would look after baby Alaric, the name Fred and Angelina had finally agreed upon, so Angelina could be freed up to assist Fleur.

A few days before the wedding, Ron was in the kitchen in the guise of getting a glass of water. He had managed to nick several tasty morsels by the time he heard Hermione's voice coming down the kitchen staircase.

"Ron. Ron!"

He looked up the stairs and, trying to be discreet because he was still chewing, called, "What is it?"

"An owl."

Swallowing, he asked, "An owl?"

He became a bit concerned when he saw a somewhat frantic expression cross Hermione's face as she hissed, "Hedwig!"

Understanding dawned and Ron raced up the stairs. As Hermione walked back into her room holding Alaric, whom she had clearly been trying to get to go to sleep, he asked, "What did he say?"

"I don't know. I came to get you right away. Besides," she added, "my hands are rather full right now."

Ron looked briefly at his nephew and smiled before going to get the letter tied to Hedwig's leg. After he had removed it, the owl continued standing patiently on Hermione's desk. Apparently, Harry required an answer.

The couple exchanged glances as Ron opened the letter and read it aloud.

Dear Hermione and Ron,

After careful consideration I have decided that you can come and stay at Grimmauld Place after your wedding for as long as you like. This is, of course, contingent on your willingness to follow the rules I have set down. Please send word with Hedwig as to your acceptance of this condition and when I can expect you.

Congratulations.

Harry

"Bloody hell!" said Ron in amazement. "He said yes."

Hermione nudged Ron with her elbow. "Let's see what the other page says," she indicated a second sheet of parchment and Ron shuffled it on top of the first.

Ron's expression turned to one of disbelief and then disgust as he scanned the parchment and he sat heavily down in the chair before Hermione's desk. He felt Hermione move behind him and look over his shoulder.

Rules

And so the list went. There were twenty-seven items in all and they appeared to have been written down in no particular order other than as Harry thought of them. Finally, Ron leaned back in the chair and looked wearily up into Hermione's somber face. After a moment of indecision where he wondered if he really ought to just beg her to let them forget about this, he asked, "Do you still want to try this?" When Hermione nodded, Ron sighed. "Fine," he said. "I'll try to follow these ridiculous rules."

"It may not be for too long, Ron. He may mellow out a bit after awhile. We could really have an influence on Harry's life," said Hermione positively.

"How?" Ron asked doubtfully. "If we live like this," he raised the parchment, "we'll never even see Harry to influence him in anything."

"We just need to give him time," said Hermione firmly.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, right. Like he hasn't had enough time to sort things out on his own."

"Ron," Hermione reprimanded.

"Okay!"

Hermione smiled at Ron's indignation and then asked him, "Would you mind very much writing our answer? My hands are still rather full."

Ron looked at Alaric. The infant was now sleeping peacefully in Hermione's arms and he found himself smiling at the image. He raised up from the chair just enough to kiss Hermione on the cheek. "I like that picture," he said, watching her face turn pink as she cast him a silly smile of her own.

Turning back to the desk, Ron gathered supplies to write a letter to Harry acknowledging his stupid rules. Dipping a quill into ink he wrote, "Dear Harry." He took a moment to look at those words on the parchment. He used to write them with some frequency yet now it felt so strange to see them before him in his own handwriting.

Pulling himself together Ron dipped the quill a second time and as he wrote he thought, When he kept referring to rooms plural he damn well better not have meant he's giving me and Hermione separate bedrooms.

~*~

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. George had arrived early to help Fred set up the few chairs that would be needed in the garden. From her open window Hermione could hear them talking as she packed the remainder of her belongings. Harry had agreed to send Buckbeak late in the afternoon to pick up Hermione and Ron's things. While Hermione wondered how Harry had managed to convince Buckbeak to take on the role of pack mule, she also hoped he would be okay with all her books. She had shrunk them as much as she could so she could fit them all into a relatively small number of boxes, four, but as a result the boxes were very heavy.

She had just finished stuffing the last box shut and was about to cast a lightening charm on it when she heard George ask Fred a question.

"Are they really going to live with the infamously reclusive Harry Potter?"

"So they say, George."

Hermione bit her lip. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop. It was wrong and people never heard good things when they did it. On the other hand, she couldn't help wondering what everyone was thinking regarding the living situation she and Ron were going into. Deciding Ron and Harry had definitely been bad influences on her during her formative teenage years, she crept to the window and peered over the sill.

Fred and George had finished with the chairs and were leaning against the side of the house.

"Why?" asked George incredulously.

"Dunno why," responded Fred. "I don't know what they were thinking. Everything was fine. They were finally engaged and then suddenly, out of nowhere, Hedwig shows up and Harry's sending Buckbeak to the Burrow to take Hermione to Grimmauld Place."

"Bet Ron was upset about that," said George.

"Livid," replied Fred. "Then the next thing we know, a few days ago, they tell us they're going to live with Harry at Grimmauld Place after the wedding. I have no idea what they're thinking. Especially with all those rules Harry is demanding they follow. They tried to keep that to themselves but I knew something was up and I nicked the list the other morning when they went off to work."

Hermione stifled a gasp. No one was supposed to know about that.

"What kind of rules?"

"Oh, ridiculous tripe like, not talking about any friends or relatives or coworkers or anyone in front of Harry. They can't invite anyone over nor can they pass invitations from others on to Harry. They can't discuss their daily activities in front of him. The list even said they can't talk about what they had for lunch if Harry's around."

George gasped. "Poor Ron!"

Fred continued, ticking things off on his fingers as he went. "No discussions about the war, no asking Harry questions about the final battle, no mentioning the names of people who died..."

"He's mental!" exclaimed George, sounding an awful lot like Ron. "What kind of a life is that for newlyweds? They can't talk to each other at all if they're in Harry's presence and if they're not in Harry's presence they probably won't be doing much talking."

Up in her window Hermione felt her face suffuse with heat as she blushed furiously at that last comment.

"They could keep living here," Fred added somewhat belligerently. "At least they'd be able to speak freely."

"Yeah," agreed George, "but they wouldn't be able to do anything else freely. Face it, Fred. Between you and Bill producing little Weasleys there's not a whole lot of room left here for young newlyweds."

Fred sighed. "Yeah, I know. There's not that much room for all us old married folk either." There was a pause in the conversation before Fred asked, "So, who did you decide to bring today? Katie or Alicia?"

Hermione smiled. George really needed to choose soon.

This time George sighed. "Neither," he said.

"What?"

"Katie found out I was seeing Alicia and had a talk with her and then they both came after me." George's voice sounded a bit weary as Fred laughed.

"I told you, mate! I told you you needed to pick one!"

"I know. All of you told me. But I just couldn't choose! They're both so great!"

"Well, George. Now comes the hard part."

"What's that?"

"Deciding which one you can't live without and trying hard as hell to get her back," counseled Fred.

"And if I'm too long deciding..." George's voice trailed off as he realized what would happen at the point.

"Yup."

There was another pause before Fred said, "Come on. Let's go find that adorable kid of mine. Maybe that'll help you figure it out."

"How's that going to help?"

"Think about who you'd rather your kids look like: Katie or Alicia."

The last thing Hermione heard before they disappeared into the house was George saying, "I'd rather they looked like me."

Hermione stifled a giggle at this last comment but then quickly sobered as she thought about what the twins had said about her and Ron going to Grimmauld Place. Were she and Ron making a mistake going to live at Grimmauld Place? She thought she had looked at it from every angle and, even after almost losing Ron, it had still seemed like a feasible idea--even with those blasted rules. But hearing the twins talking about it, she began to wonder if everyone thought she and Ron were, well, mental.

Suddenly Hermione had to talk to Ron. She put on her dressing gown and slipped up the stairs to Ron's old room in the attic. Girard had been temporarily moved back in with Bill and Fleur until after the wedding in order to give Ron a small space where he could be alone to get ready.

Quietly, Hermione pushed the door open. Ron was kneeling on his old childhood bed and gazing out the window that overlooked the gravel drive leading to the broom shed. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. "Ron?" Hermione said softly.

He turned to look at her and smiled. Hermione's stomach flip-flopped the way it always did when Ron looked at her with that lopsided grin of his. Holding a hand out to her Ron asked, "Hermione, what is it?" When she didn't answer right away his smile faded and his brow furrowed.

Hermione walked towards Ron and took his outstretched hand. She sat down next to him, gave a shaky smile and asked, "Are we doing the right thing?"

Ron's expression became one of panic and all he could stammer out was, "Hermione! Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean," Hermione clarified, "should we go to Grimmauld Place after our honeymoon or come back here?"

Ron grasped Hermione's hand more tightly, closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. When he opened them again he looked at Hermione and said fiercely, "Don't ever to that to me again!"

Confused for a moment Hermione wondered what on earth Ron could mean by that. Then, realization dawned. She had phrased that rather badly.

"I'm sorry, Ron!" she exclaimed. "So sorry! That wasn't what I meant!"

"I know that now, love," said Ron, the endearment flowing off his tongue and giving Hermione a shiver. "Now, while my heart returns to its normal rhythm, why don't you tell me what's really on your mind."

"Well," Hermione bit her lip. "I overheard Fred and George talking..." She trailed off when Ron laughed.

"That was your first mistake."

Smiling, she continued. "Ron, I just started to doubt my plan. Maybe this isn't what we should be doing. And with the rules and everything...Did you know Fred got a look at them?"

Ron frowned. "Yeah, he mentioned it to me. I told him to bugger off. It's none of his business."

"So, you haven't changed your mind?"

"Hermione, you know I didn't think this was a good idea in the first place."

Hermione had no answer to that. Ron had fought her every step of the way on this plan but had given in to her whims each time. She should have listened to him.

"But," Ron said. "I've been thinking as well. You and I have survived a lot together. If we could get through the department of mysteries, Viktor and Lavender, and everything else, we can survive living with our best friend. I think you may be right. Maybe we can help him. And if we can't, we move on knowing that we tried."

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes and she sniffed. "Whoever thought," she whispered softly, "you'd be the voice of reason?"

Ron chuckled quietly and kissed her. When he pulled away he said, "I have to surprise you every now and then."

She laughed and said, "Promise me you'll never stop."

With a glimmer of amusement in his eyes Ron replied, "Isn't that what this day is all about?" Hermione laughed again and Ron suddenly jumped off the bed. "I have something for you," he said. "And I reckon now is as good a time as any to give it to you."

He walked across the room and reached into the pocket of his dress robes that were hanging neatly from a pipe near the ceiling. When he came back he was carrying a small black box. "Now, I know you said you didn't want an engagement ring," he started.

"Ron, you didn't. I told you--"

"So!" Ron cut her off. "I didn't get you one." He handed her the box. "Open it."

Giving Ron a sideways look of suspicion, Hermione slowly opened the box. Nestled inside was a pendant on a white gold chain. The pendant was a circle of diamonds and just inside the top part of the circle was a larger diamond.

When Hermione did not move or speak, Ron gently took the box away from her and removed the necklace. "The circle," he explained, opening the clasp, "represents our love eternal. While the bigger diamond is the one that would have been in your engagement ring if you had allowed me to give you one."

Ron reached around Hermione and put the necklace on her. She touched it gingerly and felt her eyes well with tears again. She had never imagined she would spend the morning of her wedding crying so incessantly. She was much too practical for that. Ron leaned forward and tapped the larger diamond on the pendant. "This was Mum's," he said smiling. "It was in her engagement ring. There were many times she almost sold it. Eventually, after all us kids, she couldn't wear it anymore because it didn't fit so she really was going to sell it but Dad found out and hid it. When he learned we were getting married he gave the ring to me and I had it remade after you said you didn't want a ring."

Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck. "Do you have any idea how special this is?" she asked crying.

Ron returned her embrace and said, "Well, it is a wedding gift so I do have some idea."

Hermione laughed, pulled away and said, "I have something for you, too." With that she ran from the room and down the stairs to her room where she grabbed a box off her desk and raced back up the stairs. Ron was right where she had left him.

"Here," she said, holding out the box.

Smiling, Ron took the box and said, "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Neither did you, now open it."

As Hermione settled herself back on the bed next to him, she watched his face while he opened the box. His expression became one of amazement and then one of joy. Inside was a gold pocket watch with various engravings on the outside cover. They were all of things Ron loved including Quidditch images, an engraving of a knight chess piece and, almost hidden in the background, a mountain troll. Ron gently removed the watch from the box and opened the cover. He gasped as he saw the face of the watch. There was only one hand and it had Hermione's name on it. Around the sides, where the numbers would be were words such as, traveling, work, and home.

"You'll always know where I am," said Hermione.

"This is brilliant."

"And," continued Hermione, "eventually, if needed, additional hands can be added."

Ron grinned broadly when he realized what she had meant by that and he gathered her up into a fierce hug. "I love you, Hermione. And this is absolutely perfect."

~*~