Hero With A Thousand Faces

Author's Note: Welcome to The Aftermath. After a chapter where as much stuff happens as did in chapter 3, we always end up with several talk-heavy chapters afterwards as everyone deals with the fallout. I've tried to keep it from being too boring, I hope I've succeeded. For the next bit of this story, we'll be dealing mostly with how Ron fits himself into the lives of his friends, and how they adjust to his presence. Not much action. Oh well. I'll make up for it later, in spades.

A good portion of this chapter is taken up by a long conversation in which Harry and Hermione tell Ron their story. I debated whether or not to include this conversation in its entirety, in part, or not at all. Eventually I opted to include the whole thing, because it ended up being, I thought, rather interesting and revealing. I hope it isn't dull, which I feared it might be given that it's describing events we watched happen. You be the judge.

Chapter 4: The Stranger

When I woke up, I was slumped against a soldier who smiled at me and asked if I'd been traveling long. I said 'Yes,' just so I wouldn't have to say anything else.

--Albert Camus, The Stranger

---

Allegra was trying, and failing, to remember if she'd ever been so angry. The worst thing wasn't even the anger so much as it was the confusion, the puzzlement...and the petulant slight she felt at being so clearly out of the loop.

She found the Master (my son, he's my son, her mind insisted) sitting in the living room of her quarters, leafing through a magazine. She stood there in the doorway for a moment, her arms flapping ineffectually and her mouth open as she searched for a way to express herself. He watched her calmly, his fingers continuing to turn pages.

Eventually, she found her voice. "So there I am in the dungeons," she began, "working on another duplicate for Ron. I had all the arrangements for his new cell in place. I was ready. It was all just fine. No problems. Until I get a frantic note from Lynch wondering where the hell I am. Seems that, unbeknownst to me, Harry and his band of merry pranksters have broken into Lexa Kor, captured all of the mercenaries I left there, and...wait, this is my favorite part...rescued Ron! They took him away, neat as you please!"

The Master said nothing. With slow deliberation, he licked his thumb and turned another page.

"So now I'm wondering why I wasn't notified that the security there was breached, and why no one apparently did anything to try and stop this!"

He stood and crossed the room to stand behind her. He moved like a cat, covering the ground in fluid strides that seemed to happen when you weren't looking. "Ron is no longer our concern," he said, his breath stirring the hair near her neck.

"You let him go," she said flatly.

"We don't need him. Not anymore."

She shook her head. "It's very difficult for me to agree with you when I don't know anything about your plans. I've obeyed your instructions for more than ten years. Doing what you asked, posing no questions of my own. It's been like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle when I don't know what the final picture is going to look like!" She turned around to find him standing distressingly near. She could smell coffee on his breath.

"You do as you're told. It's one of your best qualities."

"They took my brother," she hissed at him.

"You hate your brother."

"I do not hate him! He's an annoying, incompetent suck up, but that doesn't mean I want to see him sitting in a cell at the I.D.!" she exclaimed.

"I doubt he's doing that."

She frowned. "Huh?"

He smiled, a slow and knowing smile that made her want to punch him. "Your doltish brother fooled you, my dear. He helped them find Ron. Told them where to find him, in fact. Gave them a Portkey to get there."

Allegra just stared, this information as much a shock to her as any she'd ever had. "Bob did all that?"

"He did. But he only hastened the inevitable. Harry would have found Ron anyway, somehow."

"I can't believe it," she said, the astonishment bleaching the power from her anger. "I can't believe Bob would help them."

"Perhaps he decided it was finally time for payback. I do believe he owed you some."

She stood rooted to the spot, blinking. On the surface everything seemed to be falling apart and yet it all made a sort of warped sense. It was difficult to remain agitated in the face of the Master's inscrutable calm. "I...don't know what to say," she managed at last.

"Are you attracted to me?" he said quietly.

"Don't be perverse."

"Why is it perverse?"

"You're my son."

"You don't believe that."

"Of course I do. It's been proven by..."

"No, no. You know it, in your head...but you don't really believe it in your gut." He walked in slow circles around her, stalking her where she stood. "You were drawn to me the first time I contacted you. You didn't know why, but you never challenged my authority even though that's what you're all about. Challenges. You were always so anxious to see my face, know me in person, experience the man behind that disembodied voice. Now you have."

"Stop it," she said, weakly. She kept her eyes shut, pushing away her involuntary responses to the sensuality that he seemed to ooze with every step.

"What if I hadn't told you who I was? What if I'd kept my face hidden, disguised these telltale eyes with a spell? What if I'd said my name was...oh, Christopher? You'd already be in my bed."

She shoved him away and turned her back, her skin crawling. "Don't try and twist me around, I'm quite twisted enough as it is...but not that twisted. And what difference does it make what you call yourself? I don't even know your name."

"Yes, you do. You gave it to me, didn't you?"

She turned again, her expression softening. He was standing at a safe distance, that predatory expression gone from his face. "You kept the name I gave you?"

"Of course I did."

She sighed, and spoke it aloud for the first time. "Julian James Potter."

"Why did you give me his last name instead of yours?"

"He's your father." She smiled. "Besides, I had to go through life as a hyphenate, I didn't want the same fate for you."

"And...the James?"

"My father, James Dwyer. His father, James Potter." She sank into a chair, feeling suddenly tired. "I'm sure you're not the son he would have wished for."

"I've often been curious about my human heritage. I know little about the family traditions of mortals. Lineage matters not where I come from."

"Why don't we need Ron anymore?" she asked, changing the subject. "I thought he was key. He was one of the first...wasn't he important?"

"We have a better option now."

"Who? No one knows Harry better than..." She cut herself off, his blank expression all the confirmation she required. She sat back, shaking her head. "You listen to your mother now, Julian. If you go after her, he will hunt you down like a dog. You can't imagine the rage of him if you harm Hermione."

"One would almost think you were afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid of him, but I don't underestimate him. I have a healthy respect for Harry as an opponent, and so will you if you're smart." She met his eyes. "What are you planning?"

"When I need you to know, you will." He left the room without another word. Allegra leaned her head back against the chair and put her hands over her face. She was just so tired. It would be so easy to just sit here and never move again. Maybe then she'd never have to feel anything, ever again. What a blessed relief, to be as disconnected as he was, as distant, as remote. Out of phase with the time in which he existed, kept apart from the world by an invisible boundary that surrounded him like a second skin. At times she envied him.

Our son, Harry, she thought idly. Will you ever know him? Someday I'll tell you the truth and I'll watch your face as you begin to believe it.

---

Ron yawned and stretched, feeling the sun shining warm on his skin through his window, which had an eastern exposure. He suspected this was by design. The staff here at the Ministry hospital was so considerate and thorough it didn't seem implausible that they would have given him a room where the sun could wake him, knowing that such a thing would seem like heaven to a man who'd spent ten years underground.

He opened his eyes and smiled, relishing that delicious feeling when he remembered that yes, he was free and yes, he was back amongst the living. He'd dreamt as much so many times and awoken to disappointment, he was still getting used to the strange sensation of waking up a free man.

"Good morning," said his father, setting down a book he'd apparently been reading. Ron didn't need to be told that some family member or another had been sitting with him around the clock.

He sat up and grinned. "Hi, Dad."

Arthur scooted his chair closer to the bed so he could reach out and take Ron's hand. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Never better. Honestly." His smile widened. He hadn't seen his father since the night before when his family had left him alone with Ginny. "I hear I ought to be calling you Minister Weasley now."

Arthur flushed a little. "Well, you can still just call me 'Dad' if you prefer."

Ron laughed. "That's terrific. I can't think of anyone more deserving, or who'd do a better job."

"I wasn't too sure myself at first, but I do seem to be making a go of it. At least no one's said any different publicly...yet."

"And I'm sure they never will. Did you and Mum move? Nicer digs?"

"Oh, no. We still live at the Burrow. We've spiffed it up a bit, of course, but...that's our home. It's where you kids grew up, it's the only home we've ever had. We thought about moving, but decided not to. We don't need much, your mother and I."

"I'm glad. It'd be strange to find you living in some posh palace all at once."

"We'd be lost in a posh palace," Arthur said, chuckling.

There was a knock at the door and Harry poked his head in. "Can I come in?"

"Sure!" Ron said, grinning. Harry entered and sat on the other side of his bed, greeting Arthur as he did so.

"Look who's a celebrity," he said, tossing a copy of the Daily Prophet onto Ron's lap.

He picked it up. "MINISTER'S SON FOUND ALIVE AFTER LONG IMPRISONMENT" screamed the headline. A picture of himself was beneath, an old one that had been taken at Hogwarts...probably the only one they had. He skimmed the article, which was sketchy at best. He suspected that most of the details of his rescue were confidential, especially given what little he knew about Harry's profession. "Well, look at that," he said neutrally. "I made the front page."

"I should hope so," Harry said. "This is big news, Ron. The whole wizarding world is up in arms. It's only because you're here in the Secured wing that you've had any peace. Otherwise you'd be up to your earlobes in welcome-home owls. As it is I'm sure they're stacking up at the Burrow."

"Speaking of which," Arthur said, rising, "I ought to go and roust your mother. I made her stay home and get some sleep...she hasn't had much this past week," he said. "She'll want to come round and see you." He ruffled Ron's hair, his hand lingering on his shoulder, and went to the door, where he paused for a moment. "The doctor says you're to be released tomorrow morning," he said. "We'll get a room ready for you at home."

Ron smiled. "Smashing." His father left and Ron relaxed a bit. Glad as he was to see him, he was still Dad, and Ron's instinct was as always to be on his best behavior lest he get a scolding. "Cor, that's the best night's sleep I've ever had," he said.

Harry grinned. "I've no doubt."

"Where's Hermione this morning?"

"She's at the office. Unfortunately we still have jobs to do during all of this. I'm sure she'll be around soon after she sorts herself out."

There was a soft knock at the door and a nurse poked her head in. "Chief? There's a Bubble for you at the security station. Someone called Sabian?"

Harry nodded. "Will you tell him I'll Bubble him back later? Thanks."

Ron cocked his head. "Chief?"

"Yeah, that's what they call me."

"Chief of what? The Wankers Squad?"

Harry laughed. "Well, maybe. But that's probably not what they mean."

"Oh no, of course not. Not for you, Superslick Spy Guy or whatever."

"I don't know about superslick, but I suppose I am a spy guy."

Ron eyed his friend, weighing his evasive answers. "You're not supposed to talk about it with boring old civilians, are you?"

Harry sighed. "Technically, no. But you hardly fit that description. Actually you've been authorized for access to the Division, so I am allowed to discuss this with you...not that I wouldn't anyway."

"The Division?"

"Yeah, the Intelligence Division. That's where Hermione and I work. Professor Lupin as well, and everyone who came with us to Lexa Kor."

Ron sat up straighter, fascinated. "Is that a division of the Ministry?"

"No, the Federation. It's technically part of the Enforcement Corps, but we don't have much to do with them. There are six sections within the I.D. I'm, uh...I'm chief of the Counterintelligence and Covert Operations section."

Ron nodded, impressed. "So who was that who called?"

"One of my agents."

"Is Hermione one of your agents, too?"

"Good Lord, no. It'd be a terrible conflict of interest to be in command of someone I'm personally involved with. She works in the Surveillance and Information Retrieval section. She does a lot more actual spying than I do."

"She's head of that section?"

"Uh, no. She only just started at the I.D. this past March. She's sort of new at this, still a junior lieutenant."

"What are you?"

Harry shifted in his seat. "I'm a major."

"Does talking about this make you uncomfortable?"

"No! No, not at all, it's just...I don't know. I don't usually talk about it much, it feels a little strange."

Ron cocked his head. There was more going on here than Harry was saying, and he thought he knew what it was. "I'll tell you what's making you uncomfortable. You've been in the intelligence game a long time, but you had to keep it secret. I'm guessing you even had to keep it secret from Hermione. She found out some time last year, didn't she? No, no...don't tell me. Let me guess. Something big happened, something you couldn't hide." He nodded as another thought occurred to him. "Something that pushed the two of you towards each other, right? Some traumatic event that made you face up to your feelings?" Harry was staring at him with an amazed expression on his face, but he wasn't finished. "And like always she got dragged in to whatever you were doing. She was in some other job, but after this Big Event she decided she wanted to be a spy, too. You have mixed feelings about this because you want her to be safe and you feel guilty that because of you she's in a dangerous profession. You didn't want to tell me about it because you were afraid I might think you weren't protecting her enough, that you were letting her get hurt." He smiled. "How am I doing so far?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Blimey, Ron, I..." He raised an eyebrow. "Someone's already told you all that."

"No, no one."

"But...how did you..."

"I take it that I'm right?"

"Oh, spot on!"

"It doesn't take a genius, Harry. Just a few observations. I knew you had to have been a spy for awhile, because you're only 28 but you're already a major and chief of your section. You must have gone right into it after Hogwarts. Hermione couldn't have known the entire time or else she would have gotten pulled into it sooner and she'd be further along in her career. I know that the two of you got together sometime in the spring of last year, right? And if she started at the Division this past March, she would have to have been trained first, that could put the beginning of her career right around the same time. Makes sense that one event precipitated both outcomes. Ergo, something big happened. I'm sure you'll tell me what that was soon enough. As for your mixed feelings, well, that's obvious. Both because I know you and because I saw it all over your face yesterday when you told me she'd been stabbed during my rescue."

Harry was shaking his head. "When did you turn into the Master of Deduction?"

Ron grinned. "I was underground for ten years, Harry. I wasn't just staring at the walls, you know...well, maybe I was a little bit. I couldn't exercise my magic, so I exercised my brain. Not much else to do."

"What did you do?"

"I read, mostly. And I wrote, a lot. I watched every Muggle movie ever made, I think."

"They let you watch movies?"

"They let me do just about anything I wanted, as long as it had nothing to do with magic. I read everything. Novels, poetry, textbooks, academic journals...I think I know at least something about almost any subject you could name." He sighed. "Except magic."

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed. "Do you remember much?"

"No, hardly anything. I'm afraid I'm as close to being a Muggle as a wizard could be. I probably couldn't even manage to levitate a stupid feather if you put a wand in my hand."

"We'll get you trained up again in no time."

Ron nodded, smiling. He changed the subject. "So what was this Big Event?"

Harry sighed. "That is a very long story."

"I've got nothing but time."

"True, except Hermione ought to help me tell it. We've both got our different versions."

"But I'm right in that it got you two together, right?"

"Yes, you're right."

He grinned. "I bet it was dramatic. Tell me, did you have a big sudden romantic clinch, like in the movies? Did you all at once fall passionately into each other's arms?"

Harry snorted. "Clearly in all your studies you missed the chapter on 'Cliches and How to Avoid Them.'"

"Don't change the subject. Did you?"

He smiled, a little shyly. "As a matter of fact...yes, we did."

Ron laughed. "Cor, that's bloody brilliant. I wish I'd been there to see it."

"That might have spoiled the mood," Harry said, deadpan. They looked at each other for a moment, then busted into mad laughter.

---

Hermione ran down the corridor, almost outpacing her Bubble as it bobbed ahead of her. She burst into the infirmary, her stomach lurching and her head pounding. Sukesh looked up from his clipboard. "Ah, here she is," he said.

"Is he dead?" she said in a rush, one hand to her chest. She could still hear the summons that had come from the I.D. Bubble...Agent Granger, report to the infirmary at once. Repeated once more in that flat, inhuman voice.

Sukesh frowned. "What?"

"Napoleon! Is he dead? I was summoned here..."

He hurried to her side. "Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry, the summons wasn't meant to...no, he's not dead," he hastened to reassure her. Hermione relaxed, her hand falling to her side. "I sent for you because he's awake and asking for you."

"Oh," she said, smiling in relief. "Oh, that's good to hear. I thought...surely..."

"I do apologize," Sukesh said, one hand lightly at her elbow as he led her down to the treatment rooms. "I didn't mean the summons to sound so...forbidding. He's in there," he said, pointing to the same room she and Harry had seen him in the day before. "Don't stay too long, he's still very weak."

"I won't," she said, hurrying through the door. Napoleon lay so still and quiet, his eyes shut...but there was a little color in his cheeks that hadn't been there when she'd last seen him. She sat down at his bedside and grasped his hand. She saw his throat work as he swallowed, and his head turned towards her, his eyes opening just a slit. He smiled weakly as he saw her. "Hey," she said in a soft voice. "You had us worried for awhile."

When he spoke his voice was a quiet croak, not at all like his usual cheerful bray. "What happened?" he said.

"You were shot. We weren't sure you'd live, but you're going to be just fine now."

"Shot, huh?" He looked down at himself. "S'rotten luck."

"Yeah, that's for sure."

"Did you...find Ron?"

She smiled. "We sure did. He's fine, and he's anxious to meet you."

"Me too. The famous Ron." He opened his eyes a little more, looking her up and down. "How's...your arm?"

Hermione marveled at him. He was lying here barely back from the edge of death and he was asking about her piddling little stab wound. "It's fine, don't you worry." She leaned closer, blinking back tears. "When I...I thought you might die...I..."

"Shh," he said, shaking his head a little. "Don't say something you...don't mean."

"How do you know I don't mean it?"

"Because." He sighed and drew deeper breaths as if mustering his strength. "You love him. I know it, you know it."

"That doesn't mean I don't love you, too."

"Not the same way."

She hesitated. "No, not the same way."

"I'm just...a friend to you."

"Not just a friend. You and I have been through a lot together."

"Damn straight," he said, a little smirk curling his lips. It did her good to see it.

She stared at their joined hands for a moment, wondering what more she should say, what more she could say. She didn't want to lead him on. He was right, after all. She cared for Napoleon a great deal, but she didn't kid herself...or him...that her feelings for him were on a level with her feelings for Harry. She loved Harry, and it was pure, it was simple, and it was undeniable. There wasn't a word in English for how she felt about Napoleon, and it wasn't pure or simple, but it was still undeniable. He flattered her, he infuriated her, he frustrated her, and he supported her. She could admit to herself that she was, on some level, attracted to him. There was something appealing about his persona, that punk boy with the sarcastic exterior and the sentimental heart. He'd once said that if there had been no Harry, they would still never have been able to have a relationship, that they weren't each other's type. She wasn't sure that was a fair characterizaton.

She was also not blind to the fact that he reminded her, in a number of ways, of Ron. He had even begun to sidle up to that void which Ron had left behind, perhaps with an eye towards filling it himself. She wasn't sure she and Harry had room for two Rons in their lives.

It occurred to her to wonder for the first time what Ron and Napoleon would think of each other. Let's not go looking for trouble, she told herself.

Before she could respond to Napoleon's last statement the door to his room opened again and Terk entered, looking harried and distraught. She sagged when she saw him awake, exhaling mightily. Manon must have called her last night, Hermione realized. She must have flown all night to get here from America. She barely noticed Hermione, just went straight to the other side of Napoleon's bed. He turned towards her, his smile widening. Hermione dropped his hand and rose, backing off a bit. "Hi," he said to Terk.

She leaned over him, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "Leo, I swear you're going to be the death of me," she murmured fondly. "That or jet lag."

"I'm glad you're here," he croaked.

She sat down, swiping at her eyes. "Of course I'm here, dimtwit. You've been shot, where else would I be but here?" She raised his limp hand and kissed it.

Hermione retreated quietly to the door and was almost out when Terk's voice stopped her. "Hermione?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

Terk looked down at Napoleon. "I'll be right back, okay?" He nodded weakly. She rose and motioned Hermione out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Hermione turned to face Terk, expecting to share a few words of relieved discussion about Napoleon's condition...but any such words dried up in her throat when she saw Terk's stony face. "He came very close to death," Terk said flatly.

"Yes," Hermione said, unable to think of anything else to say.

Terk sighed. "The next time you go on a personal quest, please leave him out of it."

Hermione bristled a bit under this reprimand. "He participated of his own free will."

"Hermione, we're women. Let's not kid each other that any man does anything for us purely of his own free will." She held Hermione's eyes, her own unwavering. "You know he'd walk into hell for you. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't encourage him. Not every woman can have men lining up to love her as you do. He's not a...a runner-up to me, as he is to you."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who divorced him," she said.

Terk's shoulders sagged, her posture defeated, and Hermione immediately regretted her harsh words. What had possessed her to say such a thing? "No, you're just the one who broke his heart. Excuse me," Terk said, and went back into Napoleon's room. Hermione stood at the window for a moment, watching Terk sit at his bedside and speak to him, her head bent low and her hand on his shoulder. Eventually she turned and left, her steps a bit more forceful than was probably necessary.

---

She found Harry in the unofficial Weasley Lounge at the hospital, alone for the moment, reading a magazine. He smiled at her in greeting and she dropped onto the couch next to him, turning her head to kiss him hello. "What's wrong?" he said at once.

She sighed. "I just saw Napoleon, he's awake."

"Well...that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, except...Terk came in while I was there." She told Harry about her brief but upsetting conversation with Napoleon's ex-wife. She was half-counting on Harry to be infuriated on her behalf because she couldn't quite manage it, but he wasn't.

"Well, she's right," he said quietly. "We shouldn't have let him risk himself for our sake. We shouldn't have involved any of them."

"But, Harry...it's not as if we twisted their arms. They helped us voluntarily. We gave them every chance to back out."

"The responsibility is still ours. Whatever happened to Napoleon, or Isobel, or any of the others is on our heads."

"No, it's not! They did their jobs, and so did we!"

"It wasn't their job to help us find Ron!"

She gaped at him. "Of course it was! Harry, we're all officers in the same Corps, we all took the same oath. I seem to recall a phrase about safeguarding the lives of the innocent. That does include Ron! It doesn't matter that he was our friend, or that we had an emotional stake in his rescue. Someone was being held by the Circle and it was our job to go in and get him! The fact that his name was Ron Weasley is incidental. We would have done the same for anyone else and you bloody well know it."

"I don't think Napoleon would have been so quick to volunteer if he didn't know how important it was to you."

"For crying out loud, Napoleon is a grown man. He can take responsibility for his own actions, whatever his motives might have been. Not everything that happens in the world is about us, you know...even if it seems that way sometimes."

He looked into her eyes. "Don't you feel any sense of guilt for his injury?"

"Of course I do. I feel horrible about it. But that doesn't mean I'm sorry he helped us, or that I think he was wrong to do so. Our jobs have risks, Harry. Napoleon accepted those risks, as you did and as I did. If this prisoner had been Joe McGillicuddy from Little Whinging, do you think Napoleon would have said, 'Sorry, can't help you rescue him, I might get shot?'"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Well. There you go." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "But I understand why Terk might be upset with me. I can put myself in her place too easily." They sat there in silence for a few moments. "Who's in with Ron?"

"Fred and George. They're telling him family stories. I stepped out to call Sabian, thought I'd wait for you to get here before I went back in. I think he wants to hear The Story."

"Ah, The Story. Well, we've had plenty of practice telling it."

"I know, we could take that act on the road. He's made it easy on us, though...figured out half of it for himself."

She raised her head to look at him. "Really?"

"Really." He described to her Ron's deduction that morning. "It was amazing, I wish you'd been there. Worked out the whole thing from a few observations and offhand comments."

"Sounds like he's picked up a few talents over the years."

"I'll say. I wonder what else he's been studying up on." He kissed the top of her head, laying his hand on her knee. She covered it with her own, waiting for him to continue. "At some point we're going to have to talk to him, and the Weasleys, about his living arrangements."

"You don't want him to go to back to the Burrow, do you?"

"No. I hope he'll come back to Bailicroft with us. I want him to be somewhere more secure, where I can keep an eye on him."

"You think he still might be in danger?"

"Absolutely."

"And is it possible you're overreacting?"

"I'm taking no chances. The fact is that we forcibly removed him from Circle custody. They were keeping him for something. They may want him back, and I have no intention of making it easy for them."

"Molly and Arthur aren't going to like that."

"I'm hoping that their dedication to his safety will help me persuade them. They're both welcome to come stay at the house, too. All of them, if they wish, we've got the room. But I want Ron at Bailicroft when he leaves here."

"He might not like that, either."

"We'll see." He rose, extending a hand to help her off the couch. "Come on, we've got a big story to tell." He smiled at her as they started down the corridor.

Hermione felt a little nervous again approaching his room. Last night all had been ease and familiarity, but there had still been an underlying mood of...evaluation? She'd felt as if Ron were carefully examining them, for what purpose she didn't know. Now they were about to relate their most important story to him. Would it make him feel worse? Would it remind of him of what he'd missed?

About halfway down the hall Harry glanced at her, then stopped her. "Hermione, before we go in, I..."

She held up a hand, prepared for this. "Stop right there, Harry. I know what you're going to say. Just let me go first. This is all very strange for us. I feel weird about it, you feel weird about it, God knows how Ron feels about it. It's an emotional time, it's hard to sort through everything all at once. We've never had to be a couple in front of him, we've built up our entire relationship without him around. I'm sure he'd rather not have it rubbed in his face all the time, we're agreed on that. Things are strange enough for him, coming back after all these years, he doesn't need a constant reminder of the unexpected direction our lives have taken. I know you have insecurities, and I can't help that. Things feel different for me, too...but not how I feel about you. No matter that Ron's here now, I just want to say again that it's you that I love, and nothing's going to change that." She took a deep breath, pleased that she'd gotten it all out in one try. "Okay?"

Harry just looked at her, utterly nonplussed. "Well, I appreciate that, darling, but..."

"But what?"

He blinked. "I was just going to tell you that you have a smudge on your cheek." He reached out and rubbed his thumb on her cheekbone. "There. Spot of pencil lead. That's got it." He winked at her and continued on down the hallway. Hermione followed along a bit behind, wondering how much blood had to rush to your face before your head exploded.

---

The Story

---

Hermione: Where do you want us to start?

Ron: Start at the very beginning. [chuckles] A very good place to start.

Harry: Then I guess the very beginning would be...well, your death.

Ron: I can't get used to hearing people say that. My death.

Hermione: I'm not sure I want to talk about it. Let's just say it was a very difficult time for us. Harry, let's start when we left Hogwarts. That last year and a half of school...well, that's really an entirely different story all its own.

Harry: Fair enough. We left...Hermione was a triple first...

Ron: Big surprise, that. Were you Head Girl, too?

Hermione: Yes. Harry was Head Boy.

Ron: My, how James-and-Lily.

Harry: Don't think that's never occurred to me. We decided to move to London. Hermione was accepted at Stonehenge University for graduate work. I didn't know what I wanted to do, I had a lot of offers.

Ron: Professional Quidditch? The Ministry? Enforcement Corps?

Harry: All of the above, and then some. We got a flat in Shepherd's Bush. Hermione went to school. I, uh...I did a lot of gardening. I put off any decisions about my career for about a year, until I was approached by the director of the I.D. and told that I'd been selected for recruitment. The idea appealed to me, so I joined up. We're encouraged, but not required, to keep our profession a secret. I chose to keep the secret. I had made a very serious vow to myself...and to you, actually...that I'd keep Hermione from any harm. I wanted her far away from any evil-fighting I ended up doing.

Ron: What did he tell you he was doing for a living?

Hermione: He didn't tell me anything, and I didn't ask. I knew he'd tell me if he could. It was quite mysterious. His schedule was very erratic, and he'd sometimes come home injured. We just tried to live normal lives. We shopped for groceries, argued over whose turn it was to clean the bathroom...normal stuff. We both dated, like any other pair of young single people. My first real boyfriend after you was a teaching assistant of mine named Horace. Nice chap, nothing special...bland as oatmeal, but good Lord in heaven, what a body.

Harry: [clears throat]

Hermione: Oh, shush. As if your appreciation of Ronin's attributes only extended as far down as her collarbones. Then I dated an herbologist named Rufus Frost. He was somewhat...whiny. Lots more enthusiastic about me than I was about him.

Ron: Sounds like you were really picking the winners.

Hermione: Well, hindsight's 20/20, isn't it? I always knew Horace was something of a passing fancy but Rufus had more serious potential, at first. He was a very nice man. Stable, mature, intelligent...

Ron: Boring.

Hermione: Oh, dull as a beige room. [general laughter] But that wasn't the problem. Our biggest issue was the same issue I always had. He was jealous of Harry.

Ron: But...you two were just roommates, right?

Hermione: Yes, but no one who didn't know us well ever seemed to be able to comprehend how close we were. We could insist we were just friends until we were blue in the face...and believe me, we did, and on a daily basis...and yet they felt threatened. My boyfriends usually thought, and to be fair they were right, that Harry was more important to me than they were. Harry's girlfriends had the same issue.

Ron: Maybe you fell for each other out of necessity. How could you ever keep each other as friends and still find other partners who wouldn't feel threatened? [pause] Oh dear, that's a sensitive subject, isn't it? Have I really stepped in it?

Harry: No, it's all right. I know that thought's crossed my mind, but uh...I've never brought it up.

Hermione: [quietly] I've had that thought, too.

Harry: There may be some truth to that, but I don't view things that cynically. I think we'd prefer to believe that the reason we were so close as friends and why our other relationships were always secondary is that, uh...well, that there was always something more between us, but we just didn't admit it. We were stuck in the friendship mode, and it can be very difficult to get out of that mindset.

Ron: I guess you're not the first people in the world to have that problem, are you? [pause] What about your dating history then, Harry? How'd you end up dating my sister?

Harry: [chuckles] How does anyone end up dating anyone? It just sort of happened naturally, right around my 21st birthday. Hermione had just graduated from Stonehenge. Ginny and I had been sort of...well, flirting around the idea for a few weeks. Actually, she and I hooked up the same night that Hermione broke up with Rufus.

Ron: Unfortunate timing, that.

Hermione: That depends on how you look at it. Sometimes I think if Harry hadn't started things with Ginny just then that it might have happened between us that night.

Harry: Yes, it might. I think it's lucky that it didn't. We weren't ready. [sighs] It was too soon. For us, I mean. We weren't ready, we weren't mature enough. I think we both knew, subconsciously, that if something were to happen between us that it would stick, and we had to, uh...

Ron: Make hay while the sun shone?

Harry: [laughs] I guess that's one way to put it.

Ron: I just can't get past the image of you dating Ginny.

Harry: It was nice. I can't say it was a grand love affair, but it was a good year.

Ron: Did you dump her, Harry? Tell me the truth, now. Did you break my sister's heart?

Harry: Well, you'd have to ask her, but she didn't seem heartbroken at the time. It ended mutually, and amicably. Honestly, we were better friends than anything else. After awhile it became an effort to be romantic. It wasn't worth it.

Ron: But you can't tell me Ginny was your first girlfriend after Cho. Back up a bit, who else was there? [pause] What? I saw that look. What's wrong?

Harry: It's...complicated.

Ron: I don't see how.

Harry: My first real girlfriend was Allegra.

Ron: [pause] Now I see how. You dated the woman who held me hostage for ten years?

Harry: I didn't know that. I didn't know much about her, as it turned out. She was sent by the Circle to...well, the usual stuff. Mash me up into little bits, et cetera. She went undercover and infiltrated the I.D. as an instructor, and she seduced me. It wasn't hard, I'm sure. It was a very...passionate relationship, let's say. She played me like a violin. Then she betrayed me, and I saw who she really was.

Ron: [quietly] Jesus Christ, Harry. And he kept all this secret from you?

Hermione: Yes. As far as I knew at the time, Ginny was his first real girlfriend. They lasted a year, then there was another woman, Ronin. She was very mysterious, very Goth. I had a rather intense but unhealthy relationship with a writer named Abel Kilroy. I did some post-doctoral work and then took a job as a Charms Fellow at the Institute of Magical Academics.

Ron: Your dream job.

Hermione: That's what I thought, too.

Harry: We went in with our housemates to buy Bailicroft and we moved out to Kent. I was moving up pretty quickly in my division, and to my intense relief Hermione broke up with Abel.

Ron: You didn't like him?

Harry: I hated him. I knew the type, and I could see things about him she couldn't. I didn't much like any of her boyfriends, actually. I told myself I was just being protective, making sure she was with someone who deserved her. I was probably jealous.

Ron: And all this time there wasn't anything between you? No awkward moments? Funny little flutterings?

Harry: We didn't think so at the time, but looking back...yes, there probably were. Little things. Easily shrugged off. Easily dismissed.

Hermione: Which brings us to the part of the story you're interested in. It all started...when did it start? It started with Cho, actually.

Ron: Cho?

Hermione: Yes. Everything started when I found out what Harry did for a living, and it was Cho who let it slip. She still had some...well, designs on Harry at the time and she threw it in my face a bit that she'd found out his job when I still didn't know. Then Harry suffered a magical attack that left him in a stasis we'd designed for his protection. It worked a little too well, they thought he was dead. I revived him and confronted him with what Cho had told me. He confessed everything, and...[sigh] He told me that he'd kept his job a secret because spies need a sacred space. He said I'd been his sacred space. I didn't really appreciate it at the time, but it was at that moment that things started to change, inside me.

Harry: As you guessed earlier, she got dragged in to the case I was working on. It involved the magical attack I suffered. Eventually there was another one. It was during all this that we learned that Allegra was not just a dark witch, but head of the Circle. We found out that she was preparing the way for her master, who at the time we thought was Voldemort back again. Allegra began attacking my friends, my colleagues.

Ron: To get to you.

Harry: Yes. It worked, too...but all I could think about was that before too long she'd get around to Hermione. It was then that something clicked in my own head. I'd sent Hermione home to wait for word from me and I went to the office to try and work out a plan. I knew I had to go on the offensive before Allegra got any closer. I remember pacing in my office, but I wasn't thinking about what to do next. I was thinking about all the horrible ways I'd kill Allegra if she dared hurt my Hermione. I think at some point while I was pondering my revenge fantasies I just sort of...well, came upon the awareness that I felt differently about Hermione than I'd thought I did.

Hermione: You've never told me that.

Harry: Well, it didn't seem very romantic that I came to this knowledge while plotting my arch-rival's gruesome murder.

Hermione: [softly] I still wish you'd told me.

Harry: It wasn't like a gigantic revelatory moment, it was just like...like a tea-towel I'd left in the middle of the kitchen floor and had been just stepping over for years, but I always knew it was there even if I never looked at it. That night I actually looked down and saw the tea-towel. It wasn't until later that I bent over to pick it up.

Ron: At this time I'd like to go on the record and note that Harry just compared his feelings for you to a tea-towel, Hermione.

[general laughter]

Hermione: [sarcastic] Yes, I know. Isn't he a treasure? He ought to write greeting cards.

Harry: Anyway, as I was saying, I rushed home, because I'd decided that I couldn't stay. If I stayed I'd be endangering her. She was waiting for me, though.

Hermione: I was horrified that he'd consider leaving. We had a huge row about it.

Ron: And in the middle of this huge row you suddenly fell into each other's arms, didn't you? [pause] Hah! That's perfect. You certaintly have a flair for the dramatic, I'll give you that. What was it like?

Hermione: I don't know. It was...what was it like, Harry?

Harry: It was like bloody Hiroshima.

Hermione: [pause] There's that greeting-card sensibility again.

Harry: So you're saying it wasn't like Hiroshima?

Hermione: Well, it isn't the most romantic image you could have chosen, but...yeah, I'll take that.

Harry: The next day I left. I told her I was going to the office but I was really going to find Allegra. I left her a note...but I underestimated her.

Ron: You followed him, didn't you?

Hermione: Yes. I was scared, and I didn't really know what I was doing, but I had to. I had a friend helping me, and eventually we all met up.

Harry: We tracked Allegra to Philadelphia and the catacombs under city. She was planning to...uh, perform a certain ritual on me and she needed some tablets that were hidden there. We split up in the catacombs and I got myself captured.

Ron: On purpose, right? It was all part of some plan to get close enough to annihilate her, right?

Harry: Well...not so much, no. I just got myself captured. That would have been it for me, except Hermione came after me again. I'd been taken to Lexa Kor...

Ron: Ah! My favorite vacation spot...well, it used to be, but then they changed chefs.

Hermione: We both ended up in one of Allegra's jail cells, but through the interference of another friend we didn't know we had there, it all worked out in the end. We made it home alive, Allegra defeated for the time being...of course then we had to deal with each other. It wasn't easy, those first few weeks. It was like starting over. We spent quite some time walking carefully in circles around each other, insisting we go slowly, being careful to give each other "space" when all we really wanted was to be together constantly. We swallowed all our little annoyances, afraid to have our first fight, and we stopped ourselves from talking about the future because we were afraid of that infamous "pressure," even though we couldn't wait to get on with our life together. It was very...uncomfortable for awhile.

Harry: But we got through it all right, and it was worth the effort.

Hermione: A few months later he asked me to marry him, at the Friends and Former Pupils Gala. It was...gosh, it was amazing.

Harry: I was so nervous. I thought I was going to throw up. Probably lucky that I didn't.

Hermione: Listen to this, will you? Like I would have said no.

Harry: Well, you never know! It's not easy, getting out a proposal without stuttering or dropping the ring or some other calamity. I was sure I'd screw it up somehow.

Hermione: You did it beautifully. [pause] Unfortunately, it's only in the movies that you get to live happily every after.

Ron: What happened? More Allegra?

Hermione: Not just then. No, what happened was...in November, Harry disappeared.

Ron: You disappeared?

Harry: She'll have to tell this part. I don't remember any of it.

Hermione: He went to work on a Sunday and never came home. Hours, days, weeks went by.

Ron: My God, how long was he gone?

Hermione: Two months.

Ron: Holy shit! Two months? That must have been...I can't even imagine it. I mean, I was gone for ten years but you knew where I was, or at least you thought you did.

Hermione: I still can't really stand to think about it. I nearly went out of my mind. We searched and searched. I was in training at the I.D. by then, and the entire division was out looking for him. He just vanished without a trace. [pause] The hardest part now is to remember that I actually had moments when I hoped we'd find his body, just so I'd know for sure. I'm sorry, Harry, but I...

Harry: [quietly] You don't have to apologize.

Hermione: One day in late January he was just suddenly home. I walked into the foyer and there he was, going through the owl post.

Ron: This is like something David Lynch would think up as some sort of allegorical symbolism. You didn't know you'd been gone, did you?

Harry: No. From my perspective...and this is still what my brain insists happened even though I know differently...I left work and Apparated home. In between work and home, two months went by, but I didn't know that. I got there and Hermione jumped on me like she hadn't seen me in forever, which of course she hadn't. I was very confused.

Ron: And you still don't remember?

Harry: No. I know where I was, but I don't remember it.

Ron: Where were you?

Hermione: [clears throat] Let's leave that for a moment. We'll come back to it.

Ron: All right. So he was back...

Hermione: Yes. Everything was strange, surreal even. No one could figure out where he'd been and they couldn't get around his memory block. Eventually he went back to work, we went on with our lives and for a little while things were almost normal. Soon enough it became clear that something was wrong with him. It was a gradual progression, but...well, to put it simply, he went insane.

Ron: [shakes head] You guys have really been through the wringer, haven't you?

Hermione: Oh, I haven't even gotten to the really awful stuff yet! Just wait!

Harry: I had...what's Sukesh calling it these days? A psychotic break resulting from a fragmentation of consciousness. Something that happened to me while I was away, something I couldn't remember, split my personality. There was me, and there was another me. The other me was dangerously crazy, and he started taking over. He got stronger, I got weaker. If he took over completely, I'd die...and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. That didn't stop Hermione, lucky for me.

Hermione: I set out to get him a cure. To do it I had to find the Guardian. Uh...the Guardian is...how do I...

Ron: That's all right, I know who she is.

Harry: [pause] You do?

Ron: Yes. Bob's told me about her. I don't know how he knows. She's some sort of...higher being, right?

Hermione: Essentially, yes. I had to negotiate with her to save Harry's life. I made a sacrifice to save him.

Ron: What sacrifice?

Hermione: [sighs] Time off my life. I don't know how much, I won't until after...well, after.

[silence]

Ron: Holy shit. [pause] You did that for Harry?

Hermione: I would have done more. I offered her my whole life, but she refused. I would have given her anything she asked for. I didn't hesitate. I knew that...he would have done the same for me.

Ron: Did you know about this?

Harry: Not then. Not for awhile.

Hermione: The whole encounter was very disturbing to me. It made me face a lot of difficult issues I'd been having with us, our relationship. When I got back and Harry was cured, I left for awhile. I needed some time to myself, to think.

Harry: When I woke up and she was gone I knew something had happened to her but I didn't know what. It wasn't easy. When she came back she couldn't tell me what she'd done to save me. It caused...well, it, uh...

Ron: Spit it out.

Harry: We broke up.

Ron: [pause] You broke up?

Hermione: Yes, we did. It was really, profoundly horrible. It was...

Harry: Hiroshima. Again.

Ron: For how bloody long?

Hermione: Almost three months.

Ron: I can't believe this.

Harry: Neither could we. It was complicated, much more than it sounds now. There was this huge secret hanging there between us. I kept imagining all these horrible things she might have had to do in order to save me, she could only focus on keeping me from knowing because she was afraid it would guilt me to death. It dredged up a lot of trust issues and truth issues and...

Ron: Sounds to me like you were both just being bloody stubborn idiots.

Hermione: [chuckles] That pretty much sums it up, yes.

Ron: Obviously you patched things up.

Harry: Yes, in Florence. She was there undercover as part of a mission that went badly wrong, my division was called in to clean up. She was hurt, I had to break in to where she was being held and get her. During her convalescence we...lived together in a hotel room while I took care of her. It was a very strange week.

Hermione: We hadn't spoken in three months, we'd barely looked at each other, it was too painful. Now here we were in close proximity. It was a sort of...decompression period.

Harry: After a week of that, we got back together. I've never been so relieved in my life.

Ron: I'm sure you weren't the only one.

Harry: No. That was...what, almost two months ago? Since the breakup we're stronger, we're better. We're more together than we used to be.

Hermione: We understand each other more. It's...I don't know. It's different now. It's almost as if before the breakup, we were play-acting at having a relationship. Now it's more real, it's stood up to a difficult test.

[pause]

Harry: So that's The Story.

Ron: You've left out a lot of details, haven't you?

Hermione: If we didn't we'd be here all night. I'm sure you'll hear everything eventually, in dribs and drabs.

Harry: There's one other thing we should probably tell you about.

Ron: What's that?

Hermione: A lot of our issues stem from the fact that...oh, gosh. Let's see. Here's the thing, Ron. Harry isn't just a wizard like the rest of us.

Ron: We always knew that, didn't we?

Hermione: Yes, but we didn't know how. It turns out that Harry is what's called a Mage. It's very rare among wizards. One half of a percent of wizards are carriers of the Mage factor, and if two of them marry and have a child, that child has a one in four chance of being full Mage.

Ron: So it's a recessive Mendelian trait?

Harry: A whozits huh?

Ron: Never mind, that's what it is. How many others are there like you?

Harry: None. I'm the first verified Mage in the last two thousand years.

[pause]

Ron: I knew you were special, Harry, but...great Merlin's ghost. What does it mean? For you, that is?

Harry: Mostly it means that instead of having to summon magic to me, it exists inside of me all the time. I have a higher affinity for magic than other wizards. I don't need wands or talismans to perform magic, I just think it and it happens. With practice, I can have other abilities.

Hermione: It also means he's a target. It's why Voldemort came after him when he was a baby, and why he kept going after him. It's also why he was taken away for those two months he missed...

Harry: But I think that's a story for another time.

Ron: [sighs] I thought that hearing all this would make me feel better, like I hadn't missed as much, but...now I just have an even clearer picture of how much I have missed.

Hermione: You haven't just missed our lives, Ron. We've missed yours, too.

Ron: Yes, but nothing's happened in mine. [pause] I'll look forward to hearing more about all this. As you say, Hermione...in dribs and drabs. It's a lot to take in all at once.

Harry: We know. It's a lot to tell all at once.

Ron: [quietly] I wish I'd been there with you for all of that.

Hermione: But you were. You were always with us, Ron. We thought of you every day. Every time something was funny, or sad, or touching...every time something important happened, or even if nothing was happening. I'd look at Harry and I'd see that he was having the same thought: I wish Ron were here.

Ron: I used to talk to you guys. I'd tell you what I was feeling, what I was doing, and I'd wonder what you were doing. [pause] I don't have to wonder anymore.

---

His voice trailed off, slightly choked. Silently, Hermione reached out a hand to him and he grasped it; Harry laid his on top. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, The Story now told.

Ron watched their faces, as he'd been doing all throughout their telling. He was seated on the sofa in his room. Hermione was sitting facing him in a wing chair and Harry was sitting on the floor near her feet. The upshot of this seating arrangement was that his back had been to her during their story, and they'd barely exchanged a glance while telling it. Ron had been alert and eager to see evidence of their proclaimed affection, evidence he was still seeking. He had been again disappointed. The story had been emotional for each of them in parts, but in such isolation. It was as if they were relating to him the plotline of a play they'd seen together which had affected each of them individually. They had told him a story. Unfortunately, it hadn't felt like their story.

Hermione had touched Harry several times while she spoke. A brief hand on his shoulder, a light touch to his arm. Chaste touches, as one might give a brother...or a best friend. Harry had kept his hands quite stringently to himself.

"Sukesh says you can leave in the morning," Harry said now, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Ron said, unease rising in his chest.

"So have we. But you first."

Ron took a deep breath, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Harry...I don't want to go home with my parents," he said. "I love them and I'm glad to see them, but...if I go to the Burrow they'll smother me. And all my siblings are still staying there, except George, of course. It's too many people." He looked from one to the other. "Do you think I could come home with you? To Bailicroft?"

They exchanged a glance. "Well...you know there are almost as many people living there."

"But it's a much bigger house, right? And you guys won't breathe down my neck. My parents will. I'm not sure if I can take it."

Hermione smiled, looking relieved. "Of course you can come home with us, Ron. We've been saying that's what we want you to do."

Harry appeared a bit less comfortable. "Honestly, I want to keep you close by," he said. "So we can keep an eye on you."

"You think I might still be in danger?" Ron said, frowning. That thought hadn't occurred to him, though it ought to have done.

"It's possible. I would just feel much better if either Hermione or myself were nearby at all times." Ron glanced at Hermione, a little doubtful. He had no doubts about intelligence or her skills as a spy, but if he were in danger from Circle attack he couldn't help but feel a little safer with Harry the Mage, especially after seeing him neatly dispose of four Muggle mercenaries. This little glance didn't go unnoticed. "Don't worry," Harry said. "Hermione is just as capable of protecting you as I am. You didn't see her in action at Lexa Kor, but she's a force to be reckoned with." He said with with pride in his voice. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"A force to be reckoned with, is that so?" he said, smiling.

"I think Harry's exaggerating a bit."

"I am so not. Ron, remind me to tell you how she broke my leg to pass her entrance exams to the I.D."

Ron blinked. "Oh, I will. I'm suddenly quite desperate to hear about that. I don't suppose there's video of this, is there?" They laughed together. "But, on the living-arrangements topic...how am I going to tell my parents about this?"

"Maybe it'd be better if it came from me," Harry said. "I can make it sound like a necessary security precaution, so they don't think it's because you don't want to go home with them."

Ron sagged, relieved. "Jolly good, thanks mate."

Hermione stood up, the two men rising in response. "In that case I'm going to go home and sort out a room for you. And brace yourself, George won't smother you as your Mum would, but he'll probably make you eat so much you'll have to roll yourself out the door." She stepped forward and hugged him. "I'll come by later, okay?"

"Okay." He hugged her back, smiling. She picked up her cloak and glanced at Harry.

"Are you coming home?" she said quietly, her tone implying a private side-conversation, though she knew Ron could still hear her.

"Later," he said, matching her tone. "I forgot to owl Stephen today, is that bad?"

"No, I'll do it tonight. Will you pick up that package from Sarah?"

"Already did, I gave it to George to take home."

"Good." As Ron watched, they both sort of...flinched. A brief beginning of a motion, a flicker of an unreadable signal that passed between them, then Hermione turned back towards Ron and gave him a bright smile as she left, her eyes sliding right past Harry with only a brief snag on his face. If he hadn't been watching carefully he would have missed a brief, surreptitious finger-squeeze which was their only goodbye. He realized that the flinch he'd observed had been the beginning of an instinctive, casual kiss before parting, one they'd stopped themselves from sharing in front of him.

Nevertheless, even in the absence of this visible token, he was struck by the timbre of their brief exchange. The fact that he had no idea what they'd been talking about was a potent reminder of the fact that they had lives which had nothing to do with him, an entire existence of which he was only a recent addition.

These thoughts slipped through his mind in half a second. Harry was smiling at him. "Just us, old chap," he said, sitting down again. "You expecting any visitors this afternoon?"

"Just the family. They pop in and out. Mum was here most of the day before you and Hermione came in, I think Bill and Charlie took her out to eat. Practically had to drag her from the room."

"Do you blame her?"

"I guess not." He grinned. "But now that I've got you alone, I know what I'd like to do."

---

"Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, thanks, that'd be lovely." Remus walked over to her bookcase, which was stuffed to bursting with volumes. 'Practical Attack Magic, Volume 2.' 'Spells and Infiltration Charms.' He scanned the titles, looking for books that weren't work-related. He didn't find any. "What do you read for fun?" he asked.

He saw her look through the doorway from the kitchen. "Those are what I read for fun."

He plucked a book off the shelf. "You read 'Insurmountable Curses and Hexes' for recreation?"

"Fun is in the eye of the beholder." She walked into the living room and handed him a cup. He looked at her, bemused. She was a tough one to figure, this woman with whom he was, he supposed, embarking upon a relationship. Her face was open and yet inscrutable. She was guarded, but friendly. She was very attached to protocol, and yet he'd glimpsed a fire for justice that burned brightly within her and might make her disregard everything else.

He'd been told, when everyone was buzzing about her arrival, that she was plain, dull and existed only for her work. It was true that she existed only for her work, but he didn't find her plain or dull. The previous evening they'd stayed up late just talking, consuming several pots of tea and growing hoarse with conversation and laughter. They'd parted only reluctantly, holding themselves...with difficulty...to a relatively chaste good-night kiss. And here he was, back again. What am I doing here? he thought. It won't work, it never works...except that I could fall for this woman. It would be so easy.

He set down his teacup. She frowned at his serious expression. "What's wrong?"

"What are we doing here, Diz?" he asked.

She sighed. "I thought we were having dinner."

"That's not what I mean."

She sat down, turning her cup around and around on its saucer. "I like you, Remus. I like you a lot. If you're going to pull away, you'd better do it now. If you wait much longer I may start using that other 'L' word, and it'll hurt a lot more."

"You know what I am. It's...been a problem in the past."

"I won't sit here and say it doesn't matter, or that I don't care. The fact that you're a werewolf isn't a minor detail to be brushed away. It does matter." She met his eyes. "But that doesn't mean it's the only thing that matters. It's like anything else, you work around it. You find a way to deal with it...if it's worth the trouble, that is."

"Is it?" He swallowed, afraid of the answer. "Is it worth the trouble?"

She set aside her saucer and stood. She walked directly to him and kissed him, clasping her arms around his neck. It was not a tentative, exploratory kiss like the ones they'd already shared. This was possessive, it was demanding. He barely had time to even think about responding before she pulled away. He blinked, unsure what to do or say. Her expression was thoughtful, speculative. "I'm rather tired," she said. "I think we'd better call it a night."

He sagged, a sharp arrow of disappointment piercing him. "If that's what you want," he said, looking away.

"Yes, it is." She picked up the teacups and took them into the kitchen, then returned to where he still stood, knowing he ought to leave now but uncertain how to make a relatively graceful exit. "I'm going to bed," she said.

He nodded. "All right."

She reached out and touched his arm. "Come up when you're ready, all right?" He just blinked for a moment, replaying her last words in his head. She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Take your time." She turned then and went up the stairs. He saw her slip out of her cardigan jumper as she went, exposing her pale, muscled shoulders. She didn't look back.

Remus looked around the living room, amazed. When you're ready. Come up when you're ready. He smiled to himself, listening to the sounds of her moving around upstairs, preparing herself for bed. He went to the bookcase and flipped through one of her old textbooks, seeing the handwriting of her younger self in the margins. He moved to the mantel over the fireplace and looked at the photographs framed there. He saw her twin sister, her parents, her brothers and her other sister. He saw a young girl and boy that he knew were Darwin's children. Here, tucked away in cases, were several medals of honor bestowed on her by the Federation. A special commendation from the Office of the Chancellor, framed but hung in a corner, almost as an embarrassment. A small brass plaque, much like the one that sat on his desk at work: "Disraeli Taylor, Order of Merlin."

Come up when you're ready.

Eventually, he was.

---

"I can't believe you're making me do this."

"Relax. You're a big strapping Mage-type, you can handle it."

"Being a Mage isn't helping me with this."

"You can say that again. Check."

Harry pursed his lips, staring in consternation at the chessboard. He moved his king. "You playing me in chess is like Voldemort picking a fight with a Cornish pixie."

"No comment." Ron moved his bishop. "So, this is how you found me, right?"

"Yep." He glanced up at his opponent. "Do you miss your online chess friends?"

"I'm sure they're all abuzz, wondering where I am." He looked at Harry. "Do you think...uh, you could get me a computer? I would like to check back in."

"Ron, I'll get you whatever you want. Just name it."

He sighed. "I suppose I ought to start thinking about how I'm to support myself in the world."

"That's not necessary," Harry said quietly.

"Like hell, it isn't."

"You don't have to worry about anything."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Harry, but I don't want to be your dependent forever. I'd prefer to get by on my own power. I just have no idea how to go about it."

"Something will come up." They continued to move their chess pieces during this conversation. He could have beaten Harry eight moves ago but it was providing them with a nice distraction, so he prolonged the game. They played in silence for a few minutes.

"Can I ask you something?" Ron finally said.

"Of course."

He hesitated. "You know I have to ask this."

Harry looked up and met his eyes, and Ron saw that he knew what was coming. "Go ahead," he said simply.

Ron leaned forward. "Do you really love her? I mean, really? Don't bullshit me, Harry."

Harry held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the chessboard. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "Yes, I really love her," he said, his voice full of quiet certainty. Ron waited for him to go on, to perhaps begin expounding in exhaustive detail about this, but he waited in vain. Harry just looked at him again, his expression oddly unreadable.

"Well, all right, then," Ron said. He sighed. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't be. You're not the first person to ask me that. Just about everyone we know has asked both of us at some time or another. It's like they all had to make sure we weren't...settling."

"Yes, that's it, exactly." He smiled. "I guess you're not, then."

"No."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"It's personal." It felt odd to be prefacing a question he was about to ask Harry with such a warning...as if he'd never posed a personal question to Harry before. It was ridiculous. This was the person he'd sat up late with discussing which girls might or might not be good kissers. This was the person he would have told, if he'd had the chance, about his first (and last) tryst with Hermione in the winter garden room at Hogwarts. He'd been anxious to share that experience with Harry, but circumstances hadn't allowed it. Now the moment had passed for that confidence, but not, perhaps, for others.

In the here and now, Harry didn't seem put off by the idea of personal questions. "I'll answer any question you've got the stones to ask me," he said.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"I've an idea. Once again, you're not the first to ask, though I'm not sure why people feel the need to have me confirm what they must already know is the case."

"Then just answer it, don't make me ask it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "If I'm going to answer it, I think you ought to have to ask it."

"Bastard."

"Guilty."

"So, um...then I take it that you two...uh...do you, rather, um...that is to say that you...uh...I mean..." You can say the words, you tosser, he chided himself. You're a grown man. Practically a virgin, but a grown man all the same.

Harry grinned. "While I'm young, Ron."

He took a deep breath and managed a semi-regular tone of voice. "You two have sex, then?"

To his relief, Harry didn't seem at all put off by this inquiry. In fact, a bit of a mischievous twinkle came into his eyes. "I assume you mean, with each other?"

"Sure, throw it back in my face, that's nice."

"Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Naturally, with each other."

"Yes, Ron, we have sex. We don't keep separate bedrooms at the house, haven't for a long time." Harry seemed quite comfortable discussing this, as if the topic were not new to him. You daft git, it's not new to him, he thought. He's probably had plenty of sex over the last ten years. I've had...well, none.

Ron shook his head, feeling a bit foolish. "I do apologize, Harry. I've no right to ask, it's personal, it's..."

"It's perfectly all right, don't worry about it. I just find it amusing that people need this clarified."

"I'm still adjusting to the whole concept. It's a bit difficult to wrap my brain around it."

"I can understand that. I'm no Puritan, Ron, I don't mind talking about my sex life, especially not with you. You're my best friend."

He smiled. "Still?"

"Always."

"Well...when did you, first? That is, you've told me when you had your Big Moment, but...when was the other Big Moment? How long did you wait?" Harry just blinked. "You did wait, didn't you?"

"Uh...does two minutes count?"

Ron gaped at him. "Right then? You just...had your big revelatory moment, your grand emotional clinch, and you...you know...right away?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Wow. That's amazing. I would have thought you two would be a lot more...you know, tortured. Agonizing over it, debating whether the Time was Right."

"Well, we didn't exactly have time to send it to committee, if you take my meaning."

Ron chuckled. "I'm sorry, mate, I don't mean to sound dismissive. I'm jealous as all hell. Everyone ought to have moments like that in their life."

"You still can." Harry smiled. "I admit, it was quite a night." He cocked one eyebrow. "It was quite a night three times, in fact."

Ron nodded. "Check you out, your bad self." They laughed together. "Man, she'd probably kill you if she heard you talking to me about this."

"Nah. She's no shrinking violet. She'd probably be jumping in with gory details." Harry leaned his elbows on the table, pushing the chessboard aside. Ron didn't object; the game had been ignored for awhile now. "Ron, I...I'm a little worried about you."

"About me? Why?"

Harry just looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "You've been imprisoned for ten years. All your friends and family thought you were dead, you must not have had much hope for escape. Now you're free, and...you sound so normal. Here we sit, bantering back and forth like old times, and it's great, but...you can't be nearly as casual as you sound. You've been through a lot."

Ron sat back. "Yeah, I guess I have. Look, Harry...you've got to let me deal with things my own way. I've had ten years to perfect my emotional control. I had to, if I wanted to keep my sanity. You're right, I had no hope of escape. I had to resign myself to the fact that I'd be in my flat forever, or until they did with me whatever it was they were going to do with me. I dreamt of getting out, but in the way that one dreams of winning the lottery. As something remote and unreachable, not as something that might actually happen. All I want is to start living again. I can't fixate on what I've lost, I can't think too much about the fact that I missed more than ten years of my life. It's just a fact, something to accept and move on."

Harry shook his head. "I guess I'm still expecting you to behave as if you were the old Ron, the one I knew in school. You would have let loose with every single thing you were feeling. You weren't any good at keeping things inside."

"That Ron's been gone a long time," he said quietly. "I had to evolve into someone else to survive." He looked up at Harry. "Do I really seem that different?"

Harry smiled. "No, you don't. It's remarkable how different you're not."

"Good. That was the only way I had to fight what happened to me."

"What was?"

"To keep being Ron Weasley."

---

Hermione sighed and set her empty wine glass on the tub decking, leaning back against the curved side of the large bathtub. She looked across the bubble-strewn water at Harry, who just looked back at her from the other side of the tub, submerged in the water up to his chin. They'd been sitting in the magically-warmed bath for a good half hour, hardly speaking, just watching each other lie there.

She supposed that this situation, in a novel, would have been intended to be erotic, but it wasn't particularly so tonight. It was just...cozy. The tub in the Cloister bathroom was easily large enough for two but they'd only rarely put this fact to good use. After telling The Story to Ron earlier, she'd felt a sudden urge just to be close to Harry tonight, and it seemed he was feeling the same thing.

Tomorrow morning Ron would move in to the house with them. Harry had explained the situation to Molly and Arthur, who had been surprisingly supportive of the idea, especially once it was made clear that all the Weasleys were welcome at Bailicroft any time they wished to see Ron. She and Laura had prepared a room for Ron, one of the finished second-floor bedrooms. It was a large, comfortable chamber with its own bathroom attached, and it would now be the only occupied bedroom in the second floor of the east wing. She knew that Ron would appreciate a little more privacy.

He'd come, he'd move in, and they'd have to start dealing with it on a daily basis. She and Harry hadn't discussed their...hesitation, so to speak, to touch each other in front of him. It just felt right, somehow. He was, of course, aware of their relationship, and so far had seemed fine with it; at the same time there was a sense of scrutiny, as if he were on his guard for the slightest gesture between them. She just felt that it wouldn't be right to keep rubbing his face in it. He ought not to really see it until he'd really gotten used to the idea. It would help ease him into the reality of their lives now. They'd just have to be careful, take things slowly, one step at a time.

Having him around would be wonderful, despite any practical considerations his presence would introduce. She could sit and talk books with him, they could show him their home, they could take him to London and show him where they used to live. He'd be at the dinner table with them when Justin told funny stories about work, he'd be in the backyard with them in the glow of early evening. They would never again have to look at each other with that unspoken thought of "I wish Ron were here." He'd be there.

"It'll be great to have him in the house," Harry said, as if reading her thoughts.

"I was just thinking that."

"As I was coming home tonight it suddenly occurred to me that he'll be here for the wedding."

She blinked. "Great God, the wedding!"

He chuckled. "Yes, you remember. You're supposed to marry me pretty soon. Slip your mind?"

"No, it's just...well, I only just got used to not thinking about it during the Ron thing. Now that we found him I guess we can go back to actually planning for it."

They fell silent for a time, looking at each other in the dimness of the candlelit bathroom. "After you left today, he asked me the question," Harry said.

"You mean the do-you-really-love-her question?"

"Yes."

"Had to happen eventually. Best to get it out of the way."

"I thought so, it's just..." He trailed off.

"What?"

He sighed. "I wish there was a better answer than just 'Yes.' Seems so inadequate."

She smiled. "It's not." Harry held her eyes for a moment, then pulled himself to a sitting position. He turned around in the tub and leaned back against her chest, settling his head into the crook of her shoulder. Hermione held him, her arms and legs encircling him from behind. She kissed the side of his face, stroking his hair with one hand. "What is it, sweetheart?" she whispered.

"I'm...I think I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Ron's home. He's okay, and he isn't crazy or angry or madly jealous that you're with me. Napoleon's going to be all right. My headaches have stopped. My godfather is happily married and his children are healthy. Remus seems on the verge of a fulfilling relationship. You and I have good jobs that we enjoy and we're about to get married. Our housemates are happy and get along with each other. I'm getting better at handling my Mage powers, and I'm so in love with you that I can't see straight."

She held him tighter. "What about all that scares you?"

He sighed. "I'm terrified that something will happen to screw it all up."

She wanted to reassure him that nothing would happen, that everything would always be fine. She wanted to say that nothing could screw it up, but he would know she was lying. "Let's not look for problems," she said. "Let's be grateful for what we have right now. Maybe nothing will happen."

He sniffed. "Only if our luck changes."

"I don't think everyone gets to have what we have, Harry. Maybe a little bad karma is the price we have to pay for it."

"Then I'll pay it and call it a bargain." He turned his face towards her and kissed her, one hand snaking behind her neck to pull her to him. She kissed back, sighing, her hands roaming over his chest.

Eventually they made their way out of the bathroom. They didn't notice that they left a trail of puddles on the floor and wet imprints on the sheets, and if they had noticed, they would not have cared.

---