Tree Houses and Daisies

'Hey, Ron?' Harry's head poked out of Bill's room. 'Can I talk to you for a mo?'

'Sure.' Mystified, Ron followed Harry into Bill's room. The room was unnaturally clean. For Harry anyway. Harry could be an even bigger slob than Ron sometimes.

'Do you mind if I sleep in the attic with you?' Harry blurted. 'It's been so... Weird to sleep alone.'

'N-n-no,' stammered Ron.

'I know,' Harry sighed. 'I sound like a complete eejit. It's just after seven years... It's...' He shrugged.

Ron knew what he meant. It was comforting sometimes to have another presence in the room. 'Grab your stuff, then. I'll get the camp bed set up.' Harry nodded and gathered his pajamas and a set of clothes for the next day, relief evident on his face.

'Thanks,' Harry said quietly.

'No worries, mate.' Ron led Harry up to the attic. 'Hey, I've got a birthday present for you.'

'It's so good you can't wait until tomorrow?' Harry scoffed.

'Better than Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches,' Ron assured.

'I'll believe it when I see it,' muttered Harry, climbing the last set of stairs.

Ron rolled his eyes and handed Harry a small package he picked up from his night table. 'I hope you like it,' he said.

Harry sat on the edge of Ron's bed, and tore the paper off. Inside were two framed photographs. One was of Harry's seventeenth birthday from the previous year. Harry traced the faces of the people in the photograph. The Weasleys, Remus, Tonks. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. Ever since the night Molly and Arthur tried to convince him it wasn't his fault Fred died, tears seemed to hover under the surface. Ron privately thought it was good for Harry to grieve. The one underneath was one Molly had taken of Sirius and Harry at Christmas their fifth year. 'Where did you find these?' he asked hoarsely.

'Mum had them. She has loads of them in a box for you. I think Dad told her your relatives didn't have any of you after we picked you up for the World Cup.' Ron tilted the frame of the photograph of Harry and Sirius toward the light. 'These were two of the best.'

'Thanks, Ron.' Harry threw an arm around Ron's shoulders and they hugged in that awkward, yet heartfelt way teenage boys had, pounding each other on the back. 'They're perfect.' He set them carefully on the windowsill.

'How's it going with Ginny?'

'Fine, I suppose.' Harry shrugged. 'We go for a walk after lunch and talk. Not that we can go very far,' he said a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. 'Damn reporters. As long as we stay within the confines of the Burrow... Bloody ironic, isn't it? The first summer in years I'm absolutely effing safe and I'm just as much a prisoner as I was when Riddle was after me.' Harry lightly kicked at the footboard of Ron's bed.

'Mum's having a party for your birthday tomorrow.'

'Why?'

'Normalcy. Just the family, Hagrid, McGonagall, Shacklebolt. She asked Mrs. Tonks to come and bring Teddy. Luna, Neville, Mrs. Longbottom. You know. Family.' Ron found the magically shrunk camp bed under his bed, and performed an Enlargement charm. 'Face it, mate. You're the first one of us to have a birthday since the battle. It's all on you.'

'I'm not twelve,' grumbled Harry, making up the bed.

'I know you're not, Harry, but just let Mum do it,' Ron beseeched him. 'It'll make her happy.' Ron saw the arrow hit its mark. Harry slumped a little in defeat.

'Fine.' Harry would have rather died than do something to make Molly unhappy. He pulled on his pajamas and settled into the camp bed. Harry stacked his hands behind his head. 'Heard from Hermione again?'

'No,' Ron replied, only a tad morosely. 'Don't even know when she'll be back.'

'How did she get there?'

Ron paused in the act of climbing into his bed, nearly gifting Harry with an incredulous look before he realized Hermione had gone when Harry spent ninety percent of his time hiding in Bill's room. 'Portkeys. I think ten of them.'

Harry shuddered. He hated using Portkeys. 'And getting back?'

'Aeroplane? Is that the right word?' Ron asked uncertainly.

'Yeah. That'll be a long flight.'

'Harry?' There was something else bothering Ron.

'Yeah?'

'Have you seen my Cannons t-shirt?'

'No.'

'Are you sure?'

'It's pretty hard to miss,' Harry said dryly. 'When did you see it last?'

'Afternoon Hermione and I -' Ron bit off the end of the sentence. 'The afternoon before Hermione left,' he said. He had slipped up to his room to change his shirt, not wanting to try and make something up about the grass stains at the time. He didn't remember seeing it again. 'I've looked everywhere.'

'If you're a good boy this year, and don't give me any grief for dating your sister, I'll replace it for you for Christmas.' Harry yawned and rolled over.

Ron watched Harry sleep for a moment, before he blew out the oil lamp on the night table and went to sleep himself.

The soft sounds of the floorboards creaking, accompanied by the rustle of clothing, made Ron wake up. 'Harry?' Ron squinted in the semi-darkness of the early summer morning. 'What time is it?'

Harry checked his watch. 'Half past five,' he whispered.

'What are you doing up so early?'

'Just need to do something.'

'Are you going to be gone long? Mum's got that dinner planned for tonight.'

'I'll be back in a few hours.' Harry swiftly opened the door and left the room.

Ron tried to go back to sleep, but the sound of voices floating up from the back garden through his open window kept him awake. Feeling only slightly guilty, he grabbed an Extendable Ear from his night table, and flung one end out of the window. 'I'm going to Godric's Hollow,' Harry told someone.

'Can I come?' It was Ginny. What on earth was she doing awake so early?

Ron heard Harry's soft intake of breath as he hesitated. 'Not today, Gin,' he said gently. 'I have to go do this alone. Next time, I promise. I'll take you with me.'

'What are you doing?'

'I need to see my parents. I have to tell them something.'

'Oh.'

'And I need to see if something I've asked to have done has been finished yet.'

'What?'

'Sirius. Grave marker. I asked to have one placed by Mum and Dad's.' Ron could almost feel the shrug in Harry's voice.

'I think he'd like it,' Ginny said softly.

'I hope so.' There was a long pause before Ron heard Harry's voice again. It was slightly ragged. Ron recognized that particular tone. He'd heard it often enough in his own voice after kissing Hermione. 'Go on back to bed. Get some more sleep.'

Ron yanked the Extendable Ear back through the window, his hand patting blindly for his diary.

July 31, 1998

Harry had a marker put up for Sirius by his parents. Did you know that? I didn't. I don't think anybody knew.

He came up to the attic to sleep last night. I think he's scared to sleep alone. Can't say I blame him, when you spend the better part of seven years sharing a room with four other people. Sharing a room... It's like trying to go back to something like normal.

He's getting... Better, I guess. He sleeps more. Joins us for most meals. He's come to help George and me clean up the shop and get things ready to open in a week or so. Doesn't really smile or laugh much, though.

The shop's coming along great. George taught Harry and me how to make some of the more popular merchandise so we can have it on the shelves when students start coming to Diagon Alley to buy their school things.

The repairs on Hogwarts are going well. According to Bill and Charlie. They're helping get it back together. It should be ready to open for the school year in September. They'll have to continue repairs around the students, but McGonagall doesn't think it'll disrupt classes too much.

Ron yawned, and closed the diary. It was still early as arse. He wasn't helping Molly with breakfast today, so he snuggled back into bed and went to sleep.

*******

Andromeda juggled Teddy's bag, as she Apparated next to the Burrow's back garden gate, Teddy snuggled into a sling. Harry sprinted to the gate and opened it for Andromeda. 'Here, let me,' he said, taking the bag from her, only grimacing slightly at the colorful bunnies that chased each other around the middle. He stood back to allow Andromeda through the gate, determinedly ignoring the reporters who still lingered in the lane in front of the house.

He peeked at the baby sleeping in the sling. It was the first time he'd really laid eyes on Teddy. He had seen him at Tonks' and Remus' funerals, but he was so far down in his own grief, he hadn't noticed much around him. Then, it had been more about putting one foot in front of the other than anything else. Teddy's hair was sandy brown, and Harry could make out round, chubby cheeks. 'Would you like to hold him?'

Harry's gaze jerked up to Andromeda. 'I... I've never...' He looked back down at the sleeping baby. 'I've never held one before.'

'It's easy.' She headed for the group of people sitting around the battered tables. She motioned for Harry to sit down, and gently lifted Teddy from the sling. 'Watch his head,' she said, as she laid the baby in Harry's arms. Harry held him gingerly, as if Teddy's head was going to start spinning. Teddy yawned and squirmed, making Harry look up, anxiety on his face.

'Relax,' Ginny said, coming to stand behind Harry. She smoothed the tuft of sandy hair with her palm. 'He won't explode.' She dropped gracefully into the chair next to him. 'You look nice with a baby,' Ginny commented.

Harry squinted at Ginny. 'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked warily.

'Nothing, you prat. It just means you look like you'll make a good father one day.'

Harry carefully leaned back in the chair and snuggled Teddy a bit closer. 'I don't even know what I'm supposed to do as his godfather.'

'Technically, it means you could take custody of him,' offered Andromeda, a slight hitch in her voice.

Harry glanced up from his examination of Teddy's face. 'Not unless you want me to,' he said firmly. Andromeda shook her head. 'I would like to see him in a regular basis, if that's all right with you,' he added.

'You can see him any time you want.' Andromeda leaned forward, watching Teddy sleep. 'Just help Teddy become the kind of man his father would have wanted him to be.'

So today deserves two entries...

We did Harry's birthday today. It was weird trying to be cheerful. Andromeda came with Teddy. He's got Remus' eyes. When he was awake, his hair went from black to red, depending on who held him - Harry or Ginny. Andromeda's going to start bringing Teddy over on Saturday mornings to let Harry have him for the day. Harry wants to have the whole weekend, but Andromeda's not quite ready for that yet.

Shacklebolt came to the party, too. Oh, wait... Dinner. Harry refused to let Mum call it a party. You remember that letter we each got the other day? The one where Shacklebolt offered us each a position in the Aurors? I turned him down. I really did mean what I told George. I'm done.

Harry had a long discussion with Shacklebolt about whether or not to take the job. The short version is that Harry said he'd take it. But not until after September first.

So as of September second, Harry will be the youngest Auror ever.

******

Hermione stood in front of the nondescript office building that housed the entrance to the Ministry office in Adelaide. She walked in the door and took a left. She walked down a long hallway and came to a door that opened to an office that was in a constant state of disrepair. Hermione stopped at the dusty receptionist's desk. 'I'm here to see Atticus MacNeill,' she said. The door behind the desk opened to admit her to the sunny hallway that led to Atticus' office.

She walked down the hallway slowly, drinking in the scenery through the windows. Too soon, she came to Atticus' office. Hermione softly knocked on the door. 'Mr. MacNeill?'

'Miss Granger!' he said delightedly. 'Please, sit. How are you parents?'

'Fine. We're going to need some time to get things closed up here, though.' Hermione thought she had concealed the expression of dismay.

'Not enjoying your time here?'

'Oh, no, it's fine. I just have a friend...' Hermione trailed off, not sure how to describe her relationship with Ron. 'When I planned this, I didn't think beyond restoring my parents' memories. I didn't realize it would take longer than a few days to get things settled here.'

'Do you have an idea of when you might be ready to leave?' Atticus pulled a calendar across the desk.

'End of August, early September,' Hermione sighed.

Atticus flipped a few pages. 'Does September third work for you?'

'I guess.' Hermione toyed with the fraying hem of an old Christmas jumper. 'How is it going to work? The travel?'

'We'll get aeroplane tickets for you and your parents. The report we got from Maisri says you have their British passports, yes?'

'I do.'

'Good. That makes things a lot easier. We won't have to try to get them any identification from here.' Atticus leaned back a bit. 'On the second, we'll get you and your parents on a flight from here to Sydney. You'll stay the night in Sydney, and the next afternoon, board a flight to London. To Heathrow. You'll have one stop in Hong Kong. You'll arrive in London about a day later.'

'All right. Is it going to be that easy?'

'One of us will be with you until you get on the aeroplane, Miss Granger. We'll try to make it all as smooth as possible for you.'

'Is this all I need to do?' Hermione's brow creased with anxiety. She hated having things taken out of her hands like this.

'Yes.' Atticus smiled gently at her. 'No worries, Miss Granger. We'll take care of everything. We'll send word of your departure time to Sydney. Just be ready to go.'

'I don't know how to thank all of you,' Hermione murmured.

'No, Miss Granger.' Atticus paused, taking in the young witch in front of him. 'We don't know how to thank you. Or your friends.'

******

Hermione regarded the Cannons t-shirt. It was terribly creased and needed laundering. She fingered one of the green smudges that arced across the sleeve. Hermione sighed and dropped it on top of a pile of her clothes. She had only brought a few days' worth of clothes, and needed to wash what she had brought with her. 'So what's the story behind that shirt?'

Hermione looked up to see her mother leaning in the doorway. 'Why does there have to be a story?'

'There doesn't, but it looks like it has a good one.'

'Maybe.'

'There's no good reason why you brought one of Ron's shirts halfway around the world?' Jane quirked an eyebrow at her daughter. 'I find that hard to believe.'

Hermione felt her cheeks blaze with a warmth she had only ever seen on a Weasley. 'Ron was wearing it when we...' Hermione shrugged, unsure of how exactly to tell her mother the circumstances.

Jane came to sit on the edge of the bed, next to her daughter. 'Hermione, dear, I don't mean to pry, but is there something you want to tell me?'

'Not particularly,' muttered Hermione.

'There's not something, or there is, but you don't want to tell me?'

'I'm not overjoyed about telling you.' Hermione picked up the much-abused shirt and began to fold and re-fold it. 'He was wearing it when we had sex before I left!' she blurted. Hermione gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, as if it weren't too late to prevent the words from being said.

'Oh.' Jane blinked. 'Well, then.' She picked up one of Hermione's jumpers and unconsciously mimicked her daughter's actions. 'Do you have any questions?' she asked, smoothing a sleeve.

'Erm... No. Not too hard to figure out.' Hermione studiously avoided her mother's gaze.

'Oh.' Jane shook out the jumper, and began to meticulously fold it again. 'Please tell me you remembered protection,' she demanded.

'Yes, Mum, of course I did.' Hermione met her mother's eyes.

'Was it one of... Theirs?' Hermione shook her head. 'Oh, so they don't have something?' Jane asked perplexed.

'No, they do,' assured Hermione. 'But I'd have to go to Diagon Alley to get a potion, and I can't exactly meander into an apothecary for one these days. And there is a charm, but it's about as effective as most Muggle ways.' Hermione gave her mother a sidelong look. 'It's only as good as the person casting the charm, and if you get, ah, caught up in the moment, it's not very good.' Hermione traced another grass stain. 'We used a condom,' she said softly.

'Good, good,' murmured Jane distractedly. 'So had you or Ron... Ever...?'

Hermione smiled a little, remembering the conversation she and Ron had in the tree house about that very subject. 'No.'

'Oh.'

Hermione dropped her gaze back to the mass of orange in her lap. 'Are you disappointed, Mum?'

Jane sighed a little. 'I do wish you had waited a bit longer. But...' She shrugged. Jane reached over and tilted Hermione's chip upward a bit, so she could look at her. 'Do you regret doing that with Ron?' she asked.

'No!' replied Hermione hotly.

'You've never disappointed me, and I can't see you starting now.' Jane stooped to gather the clothes in her arms. 'You've always known exactly what you wanted, Hermione. Even when you were a little girl.' Jane stopped at the door, and looked back at her daughter. 'Where do you see this going?'

'See what going?'

'Ron. Can you picture yourself with him in five years? Ten?' Jane gave Hermione a crooked grin. 'Just something to think about.'

-July 27, 1998

I told Mum. Everything. Well, not everything. Just about you and me. She seemed to be all right with it.

Hermione chewed the end of the pen she held.

She asked me if I could see myself with you in the future. Something to think about. How could I not have a future with you, when I've got so much of a past with you?

To be honest, I hadn't thought that far ahead. I haven't been doing much of that lately, have I? It seems like I've hardly been able to think about the next twenty minutes, much less the next twenty hours.

All right, then. You. Me. A future?

Something normal.

Not so long ago when thinking like that was dangerous. Reminded me that I had something to lose, when we needed to act as if we had nothing to lose.

When you left, things weren't right. It was like the time I broke my right arm when I was nine, and had to use my left hand for weeks. It just didn't feel 'right'. When you came back, it was like something snapped back into place. Like doing magic with your own wand, and not someone else's.

I want a normal life with you. I want the kind of life we couldn't even begin to imagine six months ago.

******

Hermione's nightmares after the battle were much more mundane than she believed Harry's were. She had one dream, and it played in a continuous loop. That it had been Ron to die instead of Fred. It was Ron's body laid out in the Great Hall.

In the days right after the battle, Hermione had woken up every night in a cold sweat, gasping for breath every night. One night, two weeks after the battle, she had even slipped up the stairs to Ron's room, just to reassure herself he was alive. She found herself climbing into the narrow bed with him. He woke up, then. He hadn't said anything, just spooned her against him and gone back to sleep.

The night she told her parents about the last year, Hermione had been afraid to fall asleep. Finally, worn out by forcing herself to relive the past year, Hermione fell asleep. And didn't dream about the battle.

She dreamed about Ron leaving them.

It was the image she saw when she went to sleep now.

Hermione ran out of the tent after Ron, screaming his name. Only the echoes filtered through the eddies of rain-drenched fog. She tripped over a tree root, and landed face-down in the cold, freezing mud. She spit out a mouthful of mud and pushed herself to her feet again, stumbling in circles through the sheets of rain, calling for Ron...

'Hermione!'

'No... Ron...' Hermione whimpered, still in the grip of her nightmare.

'Hermione!' Richard shook her slightly.

'Please...' Hermione protested weakly, eyes shut tightly.

'Hermione, wake up.' Richard shook Hermione a bit harder.

Hermione woke up, her eyelids flying open. 'Dad?' She sat up quickly, nearly knocking heads with Richard, pulling her knees to her chest.

Richard put his arms around Hermione, rocking her gently. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she had been through. It seemed only a short time ago that she was five and was afraid of monsters under her bed. Richard's father had fought his way through Belgium and France during World War II. Richard was almost ten when his father finally came home. He had nightmares, too, and like Hermione refused to talk about it.

******

Hermione slid into bed. Over the past couple of weeks, her parents had cajoled her into telling them what it had been like at school. So bit by bit she told them all the things she had never said before. Not that she had ever been anything other than honest with them, but she had hidden a few things. Like Fluffy. And the botched Polyjuice potion. That her favorite teacher had been a werewolf. Blackmailing a reporter to keep her mouth shut. The DA and fighting at the Department of Mysteries. The first battle at the school. That was where she stopped, though. Anything from the past year was strictly off-limits as far as Hermione was concerned.

She wanted to go home.

She had realized, with an increasing sense of guilt, that home was no longer the house in Oxford, but the Burrow.

She picked up her diary, and held it open on her lap for several minutes.

August 19, 1998

Just a little longer, Ron.

I'll be home in two weeks.

I hope you're all right.

I've missed Harry's birthday. I've missed Ginny's birthday. I don't want to miss any more of them.

I miss you.

She closed the diary, and set it on the night table.