The Eye of the Storm

The Eye of the Storm- Chapter 01

Hermione blinked twice and sat down very hard on the cold stone floor. She stared at the man standing before her and then, with great effort, forced herself to close her eyes.

"No, Hermione," she told herself sternly, "this won't do at all. We've talked about this; there is No Harry. Harry is dead, he didn't become a ghost, and you are not seeing any part of him standing in front of you. You are going to count to three and open your eyes, and he is going to be Gone".

She slowly opened her eyes, half expecting him to be replaced by the semi- wand lit Hall, but instead, there he was, still clutching the cloak and scratching his head with his free hand. His face was mixture of bewilderment and impatience.

"Erm, Hermione?" he finally ventured, "are you quite all right?" He started toward her, and then stopped as she scrambled backward with a small shriek.

"This can't be happening," Hermione muttered half to herself, "I've seen you before, but you've never spoken to me. Why are you talking to me now? Go away, you're dead. Stop haunting me, I can't take much more of this... please...."

Hearing this, Harry's expression changed from confusion to understanding. "Oh Merlin's ghost, you don't know," he said slowly, "Hermione, it's me, Harry. I'm not dead, and I'm not a ghost...."

"Stop!" she screamed, "Stop doing this to me! I can't take this anymore. Please, just leave me alone!" she buried her head in her hands and started to cry.

Harry approached her softly and knelt beside her trembling form. "Hermione, look at me. I'm not dead. That was the plan- didn't Ron tell you? I had to let everyone think that remember?" she finally looked up, sniffling, and he continued, "Hermione, take my hand, touch my face. I'm not a ghost; it's me. See?"

He took her hand gingerly in hers, and ignoring her hesitation, brought it to his face. "See? I'm no more dead than you are."

Hermione's hand shook as she let him guide her hand over his face. "This isn't happening," she thought shakily, "It can't be... how can it?" But it was, it was all there; the soft skin, the smooth cheeks, the silky black hair that always seemed to be at war with his scalp, those lips that curved so gracefully into a smile, and those eyes; those beautiful eyes that shone the most exquisite shade of jade, even in the dimmest of wand light. Hermione slowly moved her hand over his face, slowly allowing her mind to believe that this was indeed Harry. She gulped and looked up at him questioningly, not trusting herself to speak.

"Hermione, didn't you know I wasn't dead?" he asked softly, "Ron told me he had written to you and explained the whole thing. Didn't you get his letters?"

"I- I did," she said, her voice only wavering a little bit, "I got every single one of his letters.... I got all their letters... I just couldn't get myself to open them. How? Why? Where?"- She was cut off.

"You didn't open the letters?" he asked sharply, his eyes darkening, "Not a single one?"

"N- No," she said in a small voice, "I couldn't, I just couldn't face any of it again. After you...and Hogwarts... and when everything was over... Oh I don't know. I just couldn't face it again." With that, she buried her face in her hands, trying to cover up the treacherous tears that threatened to spill all over again. "Oh please don't be angry. I didn't know... I had no idea whatsoever... Oh Harry, you were alive all this time, and I didn't know. Oh my God...."

"Hermione," Harry said, his tone more gentle this time, "Don't cry, it's all right. Everything will be fine." He hesitantly reached for her and drew her into his arms, awkwardly patting her back to calm her down. This only served to bring forth a deluge, and they knelt together for a long time in the cold winter's night, until her tears finally subsided.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffled, pulling away but not breaking body contact, "Oh, Harry! I had no idea you were alive. If I did, I would never have left. I just couldn't bear the thought of facing life in this world without you, please understand that. I had to go away, it was the only thing I could think of doing to preserve my sanity," she smiled ruefully, then brightened, "Oh, but it doesn't matter now! None of it does! What matters is that you're alive! You're here!" Ignoring her numb knees and aching legs, she launched herself at him again, holding every part of him that she possibly could.

Harry hugged her back fiercely for a minute, and then pulled away. "Hermione," he said slowly, "everything is not all right. You haven't read any of Ron's letters... you don't know what is going on. We thought you had known, and that you were choosing to ignore it, we thought you had turned your back on us..."

"What?" she said in surprise, "Going on? Turn my back on you all? Harry, what are you talking about?"

Harry sighed, "Oh God. Hermione, there is so much you have to know. But not here. If I stay here any longer, I'm going to be in a fair amount of danger of having my feet actually fall off my body." He stood up and brushed himself off, extending a hand to help Hermione up as well. "I'm going to Apparate to my house, can you come with me? All you have to do is hold on".

Hermione nodded and held onto his hand as he drew his wand out from his jacket pocket, muttered a spell to bind her to him, and Disapparated.

**********

When Hermione reopened her eyes, they were standing in the middle of a cozy foyer, with a coat rack to her left, a passage extending to her left and a rather grand staircase before her. Harry gently extracted his hand from hers and removed his coat, hanging it up before moving to help Hermione remove hers.

"Where are we Harry?" she asked, looking around, "Is this your house?"

"Yes, it is," said Harry, peering down the passage, looking for someone, "Welcome to Godric's Hollow. I can give you the 10 Knut tour later, but now, there's someone who has been anxious to meet you. Come along, will you?"

He started down the passage, and Hermione hurried after him, saving all the hundreds of questions for later. As she moved further down the brightly lit corridor, she became increasingly aware of the sound of someone playing the piano up ahead. The sound seemed to be coming from a door before which Harry finally stopped, and knocked twice on. "It's me," he said loudly, "I've found her, and can we come in?"

"Yes, come on." A deep, familiar voice replied, and Harry opened the door to reveal Sirius seated in front of a grand piano, clad in a black turtleneck and trousers. Hermione gulped and emerged from behind Harry, where she realised she had been hiding.

"Hermione! Its good to see you again," said Sirius, rising from his seat and walking toward her, "It's been a long time. How have you been?"

"All right," she replied a little shakily, "I- I didn't know... about Harry I mean. I would have come back... H- How are you Sirius?" She approached him cautiously and gasped as he enveloped her in a bear hug.

"It's good to have you back Hermione," he said, then drew back, "you look chilled to the bone. You too Harry. What were the two of you doing, playing in the snow?"

"It's my fault, I'm afraid," said Harry, "I think I rather shocked her. Sirius, she hasn't read any of Ron's letters, she doesn't know what's going on."

"What is going on?" Hermione turned to Harry, and then to Sirius, "Harry keeps telling me that things aren't fine anymore. Is something wrong? H- Has Voldemort returned?" she said the last bit hesitantly, afraid of what the reply was going to be.

"Oh, no Hermione," Sirius reassured her, "his remains are still under guard." He began to herd the two of them out of the room, further down the hall. "We have lots to talk about, but I think a couple of mugs of hot coffee are in order first. Don't need the two of you falling ill after gallivanting about the Scottish countryside in the middle of winder, do we?"

Hermione allowed herself to be led down the passage, which seemed to be covered with wizard photographs of Harry, Sirius, Draco, Ron and his family, and a few others that she didn't recognise. Before she had a chance to ask about them however, Sirius turned left and entered a warm looking kitchen.

It was a cheery room, the kitchen, with windows along every wall, a large stove to the left, and pots hanging from a rack beside it. The shelves seemed to be stocked with every kind of chocolate-based food Hermione could imagine, with the occasional jar of beans or sugar making an appearance between an army of desserts. To her right was a cheerful fire cackling behind a grate, and before it laid an enormous tabby with orange and black stripes. It was snoozing, and making a noise that sounded suspiciously like snores.

"Have a seat at the table Hermione," he said, waving in the general direction of a four- person, slightly scuffed table near the fireplace, "I'll have the coffee brewing in just a minute. Harry, hand me that pot will you?"

"He refuses to use magic to cook," explained Harry, sitting down beside Hermione, "he thinks it takes away from the flavour."

"You're dead on, it does," said Sirius from the stove, "a wand is a wand, and it was never meant to be used as a cooking utensil." He walked over to the table, and set down a tray with three steaming, mismatched cups of coffee and a plate of biscuits. Running a parental eye over her thin frame, he pushed the plate of biscuits toward her. "Here, Hermione; you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself properly."

"Thanks Sirius," she grinned, taking a biscuit and nibbling at it, "but tell me, when did you transform into Mother Goose?"

Harry chortled into his coffee mug, and Sirius looked bewildered. "Who?" he demanded, "I'm Mother nobody. You just look thinner than you used to, that's all. No reason to go after a bloke's manliness."

"Sorry," she said apologetically, "it's been a long time since anyone cared about my eating habits. But enough about me. Tell me, what's the matter?"

"Same old Hermione," Sirius said to Harry with a small smile, "right down to business." He turned to Hermione, "Well, since you seem to know nothing after the day you... left... I may as well start from then." Hermione bowed her head guiltily, but said nothing, letting Sirius continue.

"Well, you left the day Voldemort's body was cleaved from his soul," he began, "and aside from your leaving, there was much to celebrate. We were finally rid of that plague, and the Wizarding community had reached the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. We, the surviving members of the Order began to band together the remaining Death Eaters. They were shipped off to Azkaban, and the trials were held there. Moody was insistent that Veritaserum was used on every Death Eater on trial, and most of them were found guilty." Sirius paused, took a sip of his coffee, and continued.

"Once the Death Eaters were safely locked away in Azkaban, and the Dementors were reinstated as prison guards, we could start to rebuild our lives. There was a new hope, people started to smile again, and those who had lost their loved ones could finally grieve in peace. That's also when the memorial at Hogwarts was built..."

"But what about Harry?" Hermione interrupted, "Where was he? Why were we made to think he was dead?"

"I'll take it from here Sirius," said Harry quietly, "When Hogwarts was... destroyed, contrary to what you believed, I wasn't inside. What wasn't told to anyone but me, was that Dumbledore had built a secret passageway that led outside the castle from right beneath the teacher's table in the Great Hall. Once the Bubble grew strong enough, it only took one of us to ensure that it did its job." He gulped and continued, his voice cracking, "Dumbledore insisted that I be the one to escape through the trap door, while he remained behind to make sure Voldemort never captured Hogwarts. He sacrificed himself so that I could live.

It was all planned out. Dumbledore and I had spoken about this many times. I was to escape through the passage, inside which was a set of Death Eater robes, money, a whole new identity. I was to use a Long- wearing Glamour on myself and infiltrate their numbers as a Death Eater that managed to escape from the battle. My contacts within their ranks had given me a location to Apparate to, and since at that time there were too many newly recruited Death Eaters, not all of which had the Dark Mark; I managed to get in without raising too much suspicion.

The only other person that eventually came to know was Sirius. Since he was 'Gus Fletcher's second, he took over the Order after we lost 'Gus at Hogwarts. Sirius was my contact, and under strict instruction not to let anyone know I was still alive. We didn't know who was working for the Dark Side, and it was safer for you, Ron and the others to simply think I was dead."

Ignoring Hermione's murderous look, Harry went on, "I was sending periodic messages to Sirius, telling him where and when the Death Eater were to strike. Even after the fall of Voldemort, I had to remain in hiding until all the Death Eaters were arrested and thrown in Azkaban, for fear that they may find that I was the informer and cause harm to the people I cared about."

He paused, his jade eyes boring into Hermione's. "The very day the last Death Eater was put into Azkaban, I came out of hiding. It was my testimony that finally put away Lucius Malfoy, and after that, Sirius and I got to work, rebuilding our lives. Godric's Hollow was still under my name, and we had it rebuilt to what it is now," he smiled a little, "everything was finally good, more or less, and it has been for the past few years. We, along with a few others from the Order, work with the Ministry's Magical Law Enforcement Division, but of course, our dealings are of a more... sensitive nature than the average Auror's."

"What he means is," continued Sirius, "We work largely under the radar against Dark Magic, trying eradicate as much of it as possible, without raising the kind of panic that the Magical community had gone through during the reigns of the Dark Wizards."

"But what went wrong?" asked Hermione, finishing off the last of her coffee, "and what does it have to do with me?"

"Well, lately things have been happening that have been... let's say... less than ordinary," said Harry, "there are always Wizards performing Dark Magic Hermione, and they will probably always will. Those Wizards indulging in the Dark Arts however, usually have no stranger a motive than to gain power, maybe have some followers, and generally make people pay attention. We can deal with those Wizards, once we know the reason behind their actions; measures can be taken to stop them.

But recently, there are stirrings of Dark Magic from all corners of the Magical Community. Ordinary people have turned on their neighbours, little children have suddenly taken to attacking anyone within range, and often getting very hurt themselves in the process. At first, it seemed like one or two freak incidents here and there, and no two were connected to one another. It may have been a Wizard suddenly setting fire to his own house and burning his entire family within it one day in Hogsmeade, and a dog turning on it's owner and gnawing a good portion of his face off for no apparent reason hundreds of miles away a couple of weeks later.

It's almost as if someone was turning normal, ordinary people into their doppelgangers; but it seems to be completely without a motive. All these people have been arrested and contained within hours of their 'attacks', and the people under the influence of whoever this is, have been completely normal, largely uninfluential Witches and Wizards. It just wasn't making sense until very recently."

"What happened recently?" she asked, unable to conceal her impatience. But, before Harry could go on, a large tawny owl flew up to the window and began to peck gently against the glass. Harry lifted the windowpane, led the owl to a wooden perch and took the letter tied to the owl's leg, opened it, scanning the contents quickly.

"It's from Jehaan," he said tightly, looking up at Sirius, "There's been another attack. A Wizard in London took an axe to his Muggle neighbour. The man is close to death; even the doctors at St. Mungo's aren't sure whether they can heal him. I'm going to reply to this right away." He turned and left the room.

"Another attack?" asked Hermione, "How many have there been so far?"

"Too many," said Sirius tightly, "at least eleven in the past eight months in Scotland alone, another fourteen or fifteen in England. The scary part is that they are increasing in frequency."

"Tell me," said Hermione, "What can I do?"

"That was the part we were getting to," started Sirius, "Since the fall of Voldemort and his followers, the Ministry has gone extremely lax in the Department Charms Research and Development. That was your specialty before, and since you left us, there hasn't been a lot of progress in that area...."

"But," Hermione interrupted, "Sirius... its' been so long. Why me? And why now?"

"I know Hermione," said Sirius, his voice taking on a slight edge, "We all know you left, and you have been ignoring all the attempts made at communicating with you. More than one person had misgivings about coming to find you the way we did, but desperation finally won out." Ignoring the hurt expression, he continued, "But the fact remains that these attacks have us completely baffled, and if we let them continue, the effects could be disastrous for the entire Community."

He paused, his piercing blue stare boring into Hermione, "There is a lot more information that I cannot give you yet. First, I need to know whether you are willing to help. It is completely up to you, but remember Hermione, we are in a bind." He grinned suddenly, displaying a set of beautiful white teeth, "after all, there's no one to beat Hermione Granger when it comes to making vital information reveal itself."

"Sirius..." she began cautiously, "I don't know... there are so many things to consider, there's my life, my job, I mean... I left- like you said. How are people going to react if I suddenly pranced back into this life, as if nothing had happened? And what about..."

She was cut off by the sound of a door slamming, and loud footsteps clattering down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Sirius!" a decidedly feminine voice called from the corridor, "Where are you? Is she here yet? You are never going to believe what Billy did today... Where...?" the owner of the voice finally entered the room, and for a second there was pin drop silence as the two women regarded each other.

The voice came from a petite young woman carrying a slightly battered child's broomstick in one hand, and an equally battered Quidditch bag in the other. She had a slightly elfin face, topped with a mop of short black hair and streaked through with a violent shade of red. She wore a cropped t- shirt over combat pants and a scuffed pair of heavy workman's boots, and looking at her closely, Hermione could tell that she had a tattoo peeking out from under the waistband of her trousers.

She took one look at Hermione, from her neatly tied brown hair, down to her schoolteacher shoes, and gave a slight smile. "Well Sirius, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"I apologise," said Sirius, his eyes twinkling, "Dagny, this is the much talked about Hermione Granger." He turned to Hermione, "And this is Dagny Winters, my niece."

Overcoming her initial shock, Hermione stuck her hand out, "It- It's nice to meet you Dagny."

Dagny took the proffered hand after handing the broomstick to Sirius, "So you are the fabled Hermione, are you? I have to admit, you're a lot smaller than you look in the photographs."

"What happened to Billy?" Sirius asked, examining the broom, which appeared to be rather damaged, "Did he fall off again?"

"Yes," Dagny sighed, "I tell you, one of these days; he's going to get seriously hurt. He never lets me put safety charms on the broom, and insists on doing the most reckless stunts on it. Claims that if 'Uncle Harry can do it', so can he."

"Uncle Harry?" asked Hermione, "Who is Billy? How is he Harry's nephew?"

"Billy is Ron's son of course," said Dagny, looking at Hermione strangely, "Are you quite all right?"

"Ron's... what?" repeated Hermione faintly, "Ron has a son?"

"Yes, Ron has a son," said Dagny, slowly, as if explaining things to a very small child, "he's had one for about four years now." She turned to Sirius with a look that said 'I think this one belongs on an oak tree'. "Sirius, what is the matter with her? Does she forget things? Or did Ron not tell her?"

"Ron..." repeated Hermione, still looking dazed, "Who? Who is he married to? When did he get married?"

"Ron Was married to Clara, Hermione," explained Sirius, "They met each other about six years ago, and married very soon after. She was an Auror. She passed away about two years ago, during a run in with a rabid Manticore that was terrorizing a group of schoolchildren."

"Oh my God," said Hermione, still in a state of shock, "Poor Ron. I didn't know... Sirius, I missed so much! How can I just walk back in like this?"

"It's your decision Hermione," said Sirius, and then turned to Dagny who had a questioning look on her face, "She didn't read any of Ron's letters. She doesn't have any idea about anything that's happened since she left."

"Well, I've replied to Jehaan," said Harry, walking into the room, "I told him about Hermione... oh hello Dagny. How was practice today?"

Hermione started to speak, but she got as far as opening her mouth, when her jaw refused to do anything other than drop as Dagny, looking straight at Hermione with an expression that clearly said, 'Stop me if you dare', stood up, whirled around, stalked over to Harry, stood on the tips of her toes, placed a hand on each side of his face, pulled him down and kissed him possessively on the mouth.

"Hello Harry," she said, after several moments of thoroughly branding him with her dark red lipstick, "How was your day?"

**********

Hermione stumbled into her cottage feeling rather like a troll had stamped all over the life she had so carefully woven together. Sirius, after looking very amused at the antics of his niece, had offered to take Hermione home. Looking at Harry, who was rapidly turning a brilliant shade of red with his glasses askew and his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, she had accepted gladly, feeling like she had taken all she could that day. Besides, she had been anxious to get home for an entirely different reason.

No sooner had she taken her coat off, she ran to her cupboard and, with some effort, pulled out the box full of letters, plopped down beside it on the floor, and began to read. She started with the first one that Ron had ever sent, two or three days after she had left.

Dear Hermione,

I know you asked me not to write to you, and I was fully intent on respecting your wishes, but as the days past, I couldn't help myself.

In your note, you never told me why you were leaving, only that you wanted to 'Get away from it all'. But that's a load of tosh Hermione; you know that as well as I do. We've grown up together, you, Harry and I, and in all the years that I've known you, you've never been one to walk away from a challenge. This time though, it took me a while to realise what the 'challenge' was. I mean, Voldemort's dead, we've won, and things can finally be peaceful again. So I asked myself several times since you left- what were you afraid of?

But, then it slowly dawned on me. Harry. Living without Him. When the thought first occurred to me, I passed it off to simply be a part of the problem- whatever it was. But, it kept nagging me, and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The looks you two would give each other when you thought no one was looking. The little smiles that you reserved only for him, the surreptitious little touches between the two of you, they all seemed innocent enough until I took the whole lot of them into account.

I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me you two were involved Hermione. I'm not a total prat, you know, I would have taken it in stride. Hell, I may even have helped you cope after That Day. But I suppose, I have to respect your decision. I just want you to know that I'd have been there for you, if only I had known.

Well, that's all really. I've never been one to spew out long, eloquent pieces of prose. I will try and respect your decision to be left alone, but I want you to know that if you ever need me, or you decide to come home, I'll be there.

With Love,

Ron

*********

The second letter, however, wasn't quite so understanding.

Dear Hermione,

It's been a couple of weeks since I wrote to you, and having received no reply, I assume that either you are choosing to ignore me, or the owl isn't doing its job.

I've thought about it, and I've decided that I am a little angry with you. You really had no right to leave me alone like you did. I mean, sure, you lost Harry. But Hermione, I lost him too. And then you made me lose you. Did it ever occur to you that I might need you as badly as he did? Maybe even more after Bill and my parents died?

That day, the day we lost Harry at Hogwarts, I lost a best friend and a brother. But I remember thinking to myself during that ride home, and for a long while after that I still had you. And it did make me feel a little better. I thought that as long as we had each other, we could share our pain, and maybe it wouldn't be as bad.

But you didn't let me share yours did you? You bore it all yourself, and you bore mine too. I'll always be grateful for that, but I feel a little cheated at the same time. It may be wrong of me to feel that way, but I had to tell you. No one else would understand. Well, no one left alive anyway.

Love always,

Ron

P.S: Draco says Hello.

**********

After going through a few more letters, she came across the one that would have changed her life, had she bothered to open it.

He's alive! He's alive! Hermione, it's Harry!! He came back! Oh please tell me you are reading this letter, and if you are, please hurry home. Harry's not dead! Not even close! Apparently there was some sort of loop in the Bubble that Dumbledore and he had created, whereby he was able to escape!

He's been living underground all this time, working to get at the Death Eaters, and now that they've all been captured, he's returned to us!

It was such a shock, I thought I would my heart would stop beating when I saw him standing there. Actually, I think it did stop beating for a second. He's the same, Hermione, except for a few battle scars here and there. They're keeping him at Headquarters for the time being, medical checkups and debriefings and the like. But they're releasing him soon, and he's been asking for you!

Please come home Hermione, I promise it'll be everything you ever wanted. I'll make sure of it and so will Harry and Draco. I swear.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Hermione read the letter over and over, tears streaming down her cheeks all the while. "Oh Ron," she whispered, "I am so sorry. Why did I have to be so stubborn?" she wiped her eyes furiously and continued reading.

Dear Hermione,

Well, you still haven't replied to my last letter, which leads me to believe that you are either ignoring the letters altogether or they aren't reaching you. In case my last letter didn't reach you, I'll repeat the message- Harry's alive!

He's out of quarantine, and staying with me for the time being. He's been asking for you, and wants to know where you are. I told him that you hadn't left a forwarding address, set up Anti- Locator charms, and the only way to reach you was via owl, but I have to tell you Hermione, that didn't sit too well with him. He's demanding to know why you went away, and I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.

I've even tried using that blasted fellytone machine to find you, but when we tried to use that information service thing, an utterly wretched- sounding woman told us that your name wasn't listed anywhere.

If you are reading this Hermione, please contact me. A lot of people need you, Harry most of all. If nothing else, at least think about it, you mean a lot to us.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

This is probably the last letter you will be receiving from me. It's been almost a year since you've been gone, and it is painfully obvious that you want nothing further to do with us.

The reason that I'm even writing this letter is just to inform you that after over a month of avoiding Harry's questions as to your motives, I finally broke down and told what I knew, and what I suspected. I also told him that I, among other people have been trying to find you, and that, for some reason, you have chosen to remain hidden. He didn't take this well Hermione, and he is very upset with you.

Of course, Harry being Harry, his first impulse was to rush right out and look in every possible nook and cranny for you. Draco, Sirius and I however, managed to convince him not to go haring after someone that doesn't want to be found. So, instead, Harry is trying to build himself the kind of normal life he so richly deserves. Sirius and he have decided to rebuild Harry's parent's house in Godric's Hollow, since the property is in Harry's name. It will be good for him, I think, to be able to concentrate on something other than the past.

Hermione, please don't take Draco's, Sirius' and my actions as offensive; we care about you as much as we ever did. But, you have to understand that Harry still has to live, and until you decide to return (If you decide to return); he has to learn to live for himself.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Hermione remembered the time after receiving that letter of Ron's where there was no owl post from him for many months. She remembered feeling more lonely than usual during those long months, she had come to rely on Ron's letters, for even though she hadn't opened any of them, and there was someone out there that was thinking of her. Standing up for a second to stretch her cramped muscles, she registered the time as three in the morning, but she was determined to complete the task at hand. She picked up the next bundle of letters, and continued reading.

Dear Hermione,

Yes, I know I ranted on in my last letter about deciding never to write to you again, but I couldn't keep away. You know me; the second anything of the remotest importance comes up, I Have to tell Harry and you. It's almost as if I don't know until the two of you do.

Well, here goes. I've met someone! Her name is Clara, she's training to be an Auror, and she's the most breathtakingly beautiful, sweetest, funniest, most intelligent (after you of course) woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

We bumped into each other (literally) at the Ministry of Magic building last week, and for the first time in my life, I actually had the nerve to ask her to have dinner with me that night. I think it was her eyes. They're brown. No. Not brown, hazel. With these lovely green flecks in them, and they're so deep that I swear I truly feel like I'm drowning every time I look at her. Plus, the corners wrinkle just a little in the cutest way when she laughs... but I'm digressing.

The point is that we went out for dinner, and had a fabulous time. Harry's met her, and he likes her too. We've scarcely spent any of our free time apart after that, and I really think I'm in love. Wow, I can't believe I just said that. I Am In Love. Ronald Weasley is in Love with Clara Payne. Ronald Weasley and Clara Payne. Clara Weasley. That has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Anyway, I don't know if you are reading this, but I thought I'd tell you anyway. I think I'm going to keep writing to you anyway, it's sort of like I'm talking to you, and sometimes I almost feel I can hear you inside my head, telling me what you think I ought to do. No, I'm not crazy.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

I'm going to do it!! I, Ron Weasley, bachelor extraordinaire, am going to ask Clara to marry me!

Now, I know what you are thinking... 'It's too early'; 'You've only known her a couple of months', and 'What if things don't work out?' But Hermione, it feels so Right. Save for making friends with you and Harry in the first year (and hexing Draco in our fourth), this is possibly the only decision I've ever made that my entire body, heart and mind have been in complete agreement over.

I wish you could meet her Hermione. You'd like her, I'm sure of it. She reminds me of you in many ways, her brown hair, her quick laugh, her love of reading that sometimes borders on obsession. All right, that last one isn't one of my favourites, especially since there are a lot of other activities I can think of to occupy her spare time....

I haven't quite decided how to do it yet, and I'm beyond nervous. I'm sure I will muck it up somehow, you know; say the wrong thing, or worse- to the wrong person. Harry's excited about the idea, but the most interesting plan he could come up with was to take her to dinner and slip a ring into her dessert. Once we considered the possibility of her opting not to have dessert however, the entire idea fell apart. Also, we wouldn't want her choking to death on a diamond, would we? That's right; I've already bought the ring. I loved it; it's just a plain gold band with the largest diamond I could afford in the centre. The lady at the jewellery shop charmed it to glows softly when worn.

Draco's suggestions for 'Ways to propose' were far more... colourful, but unfortunately, most of them would get one or both of us arrested in most countries around the world. So, I'm still in a fix. Any ideas?

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

She said yes! I still can't quite believe it; the most beautiful woman in the world actually wants to marry me! Me! Ronald Weasley! It's too good to be true. I've been pinching myself black and blue for the past two days, and I have to believe it, since I'm in a fairly large amount of pain. Also, my jaw is paining from grinning all bloody day. But I don't mind, I call it Happy Pain.

We haven't worked out all the details yet, but we are planning a small ceremony, just family and close friends. I'd love for you to come, if you are getting this, please do come Hermione, it'd mean the world to me.

I'll owl you the details soon.

The future Mr Clara Payne,

Ron

**********

The next few letters described the wedding plans, the wedding itself, and after another gap of a couple of months, the *mentionable* parts of the honeymoon, where Ron and Clara had apparently spent many weeks touring the Wizarding colonies of the African Continent. The letter describing their adventures had enclosed within it, a picture of Ron, who was grinning madly, sunburned from the roots of his hair to his sandaled feet, waving with his arm around a tall brunette in white shorts and a matching oversized shirt. She had, apparently, not forgotten to arm herself with sun shielding charms, and seemed to be unaffected by the heat. She was grinning as well, and blowing kisses at the camera.

Dear Hermione,

Just when I thought I couldn't get any happier, something comes along to prove me wrong. It turns out; there is a vacant lot quite close to Harry's house that is being put up for sale. I've enquired about the price, and if I scrape things together, I think I can swing it. It's quite large, and I'm planning to buy it, build a home for Clara, and a Quidditch pitch.

It's not only going to be for me, you see, I'm planning to open a Quidditch school! Isn't that the most marvellous idea? It was Clara's of course, she thought of it the instant she saw the lot.

It will be great, I can run it out of the house, and I'll train all the kids from the neighbouring villages and towns. It's going to be fantastic Hermione, you'll see. I'll get the money together somehow. Harry has offered to lend me whatever I need, but I'd rather do this myself, you know. Good for my ego and all that.

Well, wish me luck!

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

You remember, a couple of months ago, when I wrote to you and said that I couldn't possibly get any happier? Well, I was wrong again. Clara told me yesterday that she's preggers! Yes, that's right- I'm going to be a father!

I'm still getting over the idea, I mean, me, a father? I don't even feel like I've grown up myself. Imagine having to be responsible for a whole other human being. Merlin, I'm torn between giving into the urge to dance a wild jig every few minutes, hug my wife, and worry to death that he (I've already decided that it's going to be a boy) is going to turn out like Fred and George. When I brought up the subject with Clara, she laughed at me, but I'm serious. Oh dear, what am I going to do?

I wish you were here Hermione; you always were the voice of reason. Harry, Sirius and Draco are very excited as well; Draco is shopping for ridiculously expensive baby clothes and toys as we speak.

I do know of one thing I have to do. I have to buy that lot. Now, more than ever, I want to build a home for Clara and our child. The Quidditch School can wait, but the house can't.

You know, it's odd. Even though you don't reply to the letters I send you, I've come to depend on them. I feel like I can hear you talking to me as I write to you. I know the idea is silly, but I can't help it. I just wanted to thank you for that. Have I mentioned this before? Well, too bad, I'm telling you again anyway.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

Well, the plot's paid for (don't ask me where all the money came from, I'll just leave it by saying that the Goblins at Gringott's loan division are going to be my best friends for the next ten years), and the construction of the house is well underway.

Clara is doing well also, she's amazingly strong. The baby is due in a couple of months, and she has finally consented to going on maternity leave. She'll be overseeing the house as well, I think the construction wizards are afraid of her, they think she might turn them all into gnats or something if they cross her. It's all very unfair you know, you spend your entire childhood battling the most powerful Dark Wizard that ever lived, and no one so much as lifts an eyebrow when you enter a room, but a pregnant witch can cause an entire houseful of fully grown Wizards to quake in their boots.

Anyhow, that's all the news for this month, oh, other than the fact that Dagny, Sirius' niece has moved into Godric's Hollow. Her mother passed away a few months ago, you know, and she's decided that she needs someone else to take care of now. So, she's turned her attention to those two. I think she has her eye on Harry though. It's rather amusing actually.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione

Greetings from Jannat. That's our new home by the way; the name means 'Heaven' in Arabic. Jehaan, Sirius' liaison at the Ministry christened it when he saw the site, and the name's stuck. Clara likes it, but I just think it's because she fancies him. I'm just glad he didn't think to call it 'Chicken curry' or something. We moved bag and baggage in here about a week ago. Things are still getting constructed, but at least it's liveable. The kitchen, lavatories, *ahem* bedroom are more or less done, but the nursery and halls are still being worked on. I've been given the task of overseeing the nursery, which I intend to have perfect by the time the baby arrives. Clara is handling the rest of the house.

There's good news by the way. Yes, more of it. (Insert Big Grin here) I was going to keep it under my hat till everything was finalised, but I had to tell you. Dagny and I have decided to open the Quidditch Academy together! She's going to put in the initial capital to get things going, and I'm providing the space. So, it works out, more or less, and if all goes according to plan, (which, by the by, was written on two rather greasy table napkins) it should be up and running in a couple of months!

I'm absolutely beside myself. My baby coming and my dream of teaching Quidditch finally coming through! Imagine, Hermione, maybe my son will be seeker for the Canons one day! And when he wins the World Cup for England, he can stand on the podium and proudly say 'It's all because of my dad, He taught me everything I know.'

Oh my lord. I'm going to be a dad. The idea is hitting home a little more often these days. It just occurred to me that not only am I going to have a baby, the baby's going to have me. Well, I'm off to panic now. Cheerio.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

He's here! He's here! I told you it would be a boy, didn't I? Well, it is a boy, a beautiful, perfect, adorable, red- headed (of course) baby boy!

William Ronald Weasley was born on September 15th 2011 at 10:15 in the morning. Clara started feeling the pains at about 7 am, and we took her straight to St Mungo's Maternity Ward. She was wonderful, didn't even ask for pain- easing charms.

I wish you could see him, Hermione; he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Of course, I'm saying that now, when I'm vomit free, but he really is. If it's all right with you, I'd like you to be his Godmother. I know, Dagny would be the natural choice, she's taken to him like a salamander to a flame already, but with Harry as his Godfather, I couldn't ask anyone else to be Godmother. I know I'm probably not going to get a letter of acceptance from you after all these years, but too bad; you're stuck with the job.

Love always,

Ron

**********

Reading the next letter, was dated about 5 months after William's birth announcement, and was probably the shortest of the lot, made Hermione's heart break all over again.

Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry, I haven't been writing, and this letter won't be terribly long either. I'm just writing to tell you that Clara passed away two months and seventeen days ago.

She had just gone back to work, when there was a report of a rabid Manticore that was terrorising a Wizarding prep school near Kent. They were short on Aurors that week or something, so they sent her in. She didn't survive the encounter.

I'd go into more detail, but I can't get myself to go over it again. Every time I think of how her body looked, lying there on the cold slab at the hospital, all broken and bleeding and cold... she was so Cold Hermione... I can't... I'm sorry. I have to be strong for Billy; he needs me right now.

Love,

Ron

**********

The letters grew more infrequent after that, arriving once every few months at the most.

Dear Hermione,

We celebrated Billy's first birthday today. It was a small party at home, with only family members (Ok, so it wasn't that small), Draco, Harry, Sirius, Dagny, and a couple of our students from the Academy.

It went well, I think, Billy seemed to enjoy himself. It wasn't the same without Clara though. I can tell you that, I couldn't tell the others; after all, they had gone through so much trouble to make it nice. He's finally stopped crying for her, I guess that's a good sign. Earlier, he used to be up all night, wailing, and there was nothing I could do to help him, especially since most of the time, I felt like wailing myself.

I suppose it is getting easier to deal with the fact that she's not going to be next to me when I wake up in the morning. And, it's easier to wake up in the mornings now, before, the only reason I could find to get out of bed used to be for Billy. Now, I can almost look forward to the day.

I don't want to though. I don't want to look forward to the day without Clara. I feel guilty all the time now, for laughing, because she isn't there to laugh with me, for enjoying my teaching, because she isn't there to watch our students learn to catch or throw, to watch Billy stand or speak for the first time, because she created him, and she won't get to watch him grow up; to do Anything, because she isn't there to do it with me. It isn't fair, is it? They say it will get better, and I suppose it does, but I don't want it to. It's selfish of me probably, to feel like that, but I can't help it. I don't want to enjoy living in a world without Clara.

Thanks for listening. Even if you aren't.

Love,

Ron

**********

Dear Hermione,

This one's on behalf of Sirius. I don't remember if I've mentioned it before, but Harry, Draco and He are part of a sort of right- wing organisation that's affiliated with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They deal with Dark uprisings wherever they occur, largely keeping their activities a secret.

Anyway, there have been an increasing number of attacks by seemingly normal Witches and Wizards on innocent victims lately. The last one occurred when an old Wizard somehow levitated his wife in the air about fifty feet, and then dropped her for no apparent reason whatsoever. They hadn't been fighting before that. I don't have too many details other than what they've told me, and what was published in the Daily Prophet, but from what I gather, things aren't as random as they seem.

Sirius wants to know if you can return to help them out with some sort of Charms research. Apparently, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Department seems to have more of less disbanded after Voldemort fell. They think it's someone casting a more complicated version of the Imperia curse on these people. No one here has had half as much experience as you when it comes to Charm analysis and counter- measures. Aside from Harry I suppose, but then again, his experience involved more avoiding them than understanding them.

And, you were always the very best at Charms. Yes, I know I'm resorting to shallow flattery, but I think they're desperate Hermione, frankly, I doubt they would have asked for you if they weren't.

I hope you get this and return. There will always be a home for you at Jannat.

Love always,

Ron

**********

The next few letters went on to describe the attacks, and the Ministry's growing anxiety over their inability to catch the responsible party. The letters also hinted that while Sirius was insistent that Hermione be brought in, Harry was against it. The last letter Hermione received was dated a few days before Christmas 2015, where Ron told her to expect Harry sometime in the next few days.

"If you had read this," Hermione muttered to herself, "You would have saved yourself a bloody heart attack. Silly twit, you never could keep your nose out of things, and the one time it really counted, you had to be a mule about it."

It had taken Hermione the entire night to go through the rest of Ron and the other's letters. By the time she stood up and stretched again, the sun was streaming in through her windows.

She bathed and drank a strong cup of coffee, took a deep breath and pointed her wand at her fireplace, muttering a few words under her breath. A couple of seconds later, Sirius' sleep tousled head appeared in the fire, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning Hermione," he half mumbled, and then opened his eyes a little wider, looking at the dark circles under hers. "You were up all night weren't you? Reading the letters?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice sounding shakier than she'd have liked, "and I've decided. I'd like to help in any way I can. When can I start?"

**********