We Stand Together

lone astronomer

Disclaimer: Everything is property of J. K. Rowling.
No infringement is intended and no profit is being
made.

Summary: Though Voldemort hasn't been defeated, not
everything at Hogwarts has changed: Christmas is still
a time for family.

Note: The main characters have gone through changes-
big changes, in some cases- that make them very
different. The story takes place in seventh year;
there is lots of time for them to develop canonically.
And Ron has been spending too much time with his
brother Bill, the ultra-smooth-talking Weasley. With
that in mind... read on.


--

Unsurprisingly, the Potions lab was cold, grimy, and
overall unbearable. But that was okay, because they
were leaving.

Hermione Granger gathered her quills, parchment, and
other supplies as quickly as she could, not wanting to
be late for Arithmancy. She looked very much annoyed.
In fact, if one got close enough, one could even hear
her muttering under her breath. "... Don't know how he
expects us to... illegal! And do you know," she added
crossly to the boys on either side of her, "that
that's-"

"Very advanced magic," finished the tall, red-headed
one. "We know. You've mentioned it about thirty
times."

"Twenty-eight," Harry corrected. "And counting."

Hermione gave him a cross look. "Well, it is."

Ron shrugged. "And Snape's an evil, two-faced git with
a nose like a troll. Some things go without saying,
'Mione."

She huffed at the name (if there was one thing
Hermione hated, it was nicknames; unfortunately due to
the length of her given name she had quite a few), but
had to admit that Ron had a point. "Conceded."

Both of her friends stopped dead. Harry spoke first.
"Hermione, you've just admitted that Ron was right
about something."

Ron nodded vigorously. "I didn't even have to twist
your arm! What's up with you lately?"

"Stress," Hermione answered automatically. "You do
realize that the N.E.W.T.s are-"

"In June," Ron finished. "We know. And just for the
record, 'only' does not belong anywhere near 'six
months away.'"

Hermione glowered. It was unsettling to know that she
was so stressed out, she hadn't even noticed that Ron
had been listening. Pathetic, really. "I'm going to
Arithmancy," she said finally. "I'll see you two at
lunch."

Harry stared at her retreating back. "Something tells
me funny things are going on."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Or will be."

***

Lunch was generally a very relaxing experience, if you
had time to eat it properly. Hermione didn't; not only
was she preoccupied about the N.E.W.T.s already, but
Voldemort was still on the loose and Snape had given a
five-foot-long essay to be handed in on Friday. Well,
there was that and the fact that Ron adamantly refused
to stop calling her "Mione," which was getting old.
Fast.

She scooped up the last few bites of her shepherd's
pie somewhat disinterestedly. Ron (whom she'd tuned
out) was trying to wheedle her out of her
Transfiguration essay. Across the table, Ginny was
discussing tap-dancing charms with one of her friends.
On her other side, Harry just looked lost. "Got to
go," she said, standing up and slinging her backpack
over one shoulder. "I want to get some studying in
before Care of Magical Creatures."

Harry met Ron's gaze, and both shrugged. Hermione was
like that sometimes. When she was gone, he commented,
"She needs Christmas break even more than we do."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "If we could only convince her to
go home for vacation."

"And then make sure she doesn't study..." Harry stopped
himself. "Impossible." He shook his head. "It can't be
done."

Ron, however, was already madly scribbling away on a
scrap piece of parchment. "Yes," he said, smiling
brightly as he examined his work, "it can."

Harry read the outline of Ron's letter and grinned.
"You are so lucky that Hermione's parents like you so
much."

"That's not luck," Ron retorted. "It's called 'charm,'
Harry, you ought to try it sometime."

Harry snorted. "They only like you because you have
perfect teeth."

Ron faked a hurt look. "You don't think I'm charming?"

"Maybe we should ask Hermione." Not even a full second
later, Harry could not believe he had said that.

Ron looked, if anything, even more stunned than Harry.
"Okay," he said finally, "maybe it is the teeth." He
wrote a bit more, then handed it to Harry. "What do
you think so far?"

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Granger,

Hello, how are you? Mione is getting-I hope things are
going well in the Muggle world. 

Everyone's favorite hardworking Head Girl is already
driving herself (and us) crazy studying. Harry and I
(we're naturally very concerned) think it would be a
good idea if she went home for vacation so that she
doesn't burn herself out. The two of us alone won't be
able to keep her away from the books. 

Send a reply back with Pigwidgeon!

Regards,

Ron Weasley

Harry read and re-read the letter, eyebrows raised.
"Have you been taking lessons from Percy?" he finally
asked, a slight grin on his face.

Ron looked deeply offended. "I told you, Harry, it's
called charm!"

"You think Percy is charming?" 

"Point taken." Ron sighed. "Guess we'd better get to
Hagrid's."

***

The next morning, Ron, Harry and Hermione walked down
to breakfast early. They had a Potions test first
period and all (especially Hermione) thought that some
last-minute studying was in order. Imagine Hermione's
surprise when Pigwidgeon dropped off not only a letter
for Ron, but one for her as well. 

"What's this?" Hermione unrolled her parchment and, by
force of habit, checked the signature first. "Ron... why
would my parents send me mail with Pig?"

Ron, looking like a two-year-old caught with his hand
in the cookie jar, quickly stuffed his own letter into
his knapsack. "Er..." He looked to Harry for help, but
Harry couldn't say anything: he'd started laughing at
Ron's expression and was choking on his pancake. Ron
thumped him on the back, resolutely not looking at his
other best friend.

"Why were you sending owls to my parents?"

Ron thumped Harry a little too hard and the Boy Who
Lived (and Grew Up, too) fell off of his chair onto
the floor. "Sorry, Harry," Ron apologized, grinning
sheepishly.

"Ron..." Hermione was using her warning voice now.

"Crikey!" Ron exclaimed, "Look at the time. We're late
for Potions. Let's go, 'Mione." He grabbed her hand
and practically dragged her off to class, which was
humorous in itself, Harry thought. Never would have
guessed there would come a day when Ron wanted to go
to Potions.

***

Hermione realized fully that she had no chance against
Ron. Aside from the fact that she was about two-thirds
of his weight, he was also a lot stronger than she was
and a head and a half taller. If he ever took it upon
himself to kiss her, Hermione thought, he would either
have to bend double or else pick her clean off of the
ground. Now, where did that interesting thought come
from?

Inevitably, due to Ron's unnecessary haste (he had
exaggerated the urgency to get to the dungeons), they
were five minutes early for class, and Hermione took
the time out to read her letter. 

Dear 'Mione,

Oh no, thought Hermione morosely, Mum's been talking
to Ron again.

We've just made reservations via Ron's owl (energetic
little thing, isn't he?) for you to come home for
Christmas on the Hogwarts Express, as we are having a
big family gathering. Ron and Harry are coming, too,
of course; we can't have Harry staying with the
Dursleys, can we? I've already okayed it with Mrs.
Weasley- delightful woman. Really smashing. Beautiful
teeth.

Anyway, darling, we'll see you at King's Cross Station
on the twenty-second.

Love from,

Mom and Dad

Hermione sighed. Ron and Harry? At her house? She
thought of the state their dorm room was in and
shuddered, although Ron insisted that 'it's not our
fault Seamus and Dean let Parvati and Lavender toss
their stuff all over.' Actually, she wondered more
about how long it would take them to lock her books up
and hide them somewhere. Hermione also wondered if Ron
would finally make good on his promise to burn her
copy of Hogwarts; A History next time he got his hands
on it.

She didn't have much time to wonder, however, because
Snape chose that moment to enter the Potions lab. (It
took him all of two seconds to take five points off
Gryffindor because Harry and Ron were talking and
examining something under the table.)

Potions passed otherwise uneventfully, however, unless
you counted Neville failing to blow anything up as an
event (most did). "Because Veritaserum needs to brew
for so long," Snape was saying, "you'll need to leave
your potions here over the break. Carry them into my
office, and make sure you remember which one is yours.
And, for Merlin's sake, don't spill them."

Hermione scowled. We're students; that doesn't make us
completely stupid. Still, he had a point- half-brewed
Veritaserum was one of the deadliest poisons known to
man. She picked up her cauldron and carried it
carefully into his office, setting it on a shelf
labeled 'seventh years.' When everyone else had done
the same, the bell rang. 

Harry and Ron fairly skipped out of the dungeon.
Lavender, Parvati and Seamus, behind them, linked arms
and actually did skip, all the while singing the
graduation song: "No more cauldrons, no more newts; no
more dungeons, Snape's a Skrewt!" Hermione caught
Ron's eye and grinned. The Dream Team hooked their
arms together, and the six Gryffindors did the entire
song in a round.

***

"Oy! Hermione!" Harry called up the stairs. "If you
don't hurry up we'll miss the train!"

She peeked over the railing of the stairwell and
called down to him, "Harry, I can't leave without my
books- and I can't find- RON!"

Ron, who'd been descending the stairs whistling
cheerily, stopped. "Yes?" He drew out the word,
putting on the 'dare-you-to-prove-it-was-me' look
borrowed from the twins.

"Did you hide my books, Ronald Weasley?"

"No," Ron answered, drawing out the word again. "I
packed them for you." He tossed a tiny box up to her.
"Travel size for your convenience."

Hermione looked as if she didn't know whether to be
indignant or grateful. She bit the inside of her
cheek. Ever since Ron had discovered his uncanny
ability for wandless magic (this had appeared after
one particularly nasty detention spent mucking out
Hagrid's stalls; Harry joked that he'd inhaled a
unicorn tail hair), 

he'd been surprising everyone left and right. If
Hermione hadn't still been besting him in every class,
she would've been slightly worried. She was already
jealous as it was. "Erm... thanks." She floated her
trunk down the stairs ahead of her.

"Good luck getting it open," Ron muttered under his
breath. Harry snorted. He knew that Hermione would
take a while before swallowing her pride and admitting
that she couldn't.

They made it to the train station without further
incident, considering they'd never gone home for the
holidays before. Ron, who was getting so tall that it
almost appeared that it was in fact he, and not
Hagrid, who was the half-giant, had to put his feet up
on the seat opposite him in order to sit comfortably.
Harry and Hermione took the other two seats, Harry
across from him and Hermione beside him.

"Are Mark and Louise picking us up in a car, 'Mione?"

Ron's voice startled Hermione out of her reverie;
she'd been staring past his legs out the window at the
station, wondering what the future would bring. She
looked at him with a strange expression on her face.
Since when did Ron call her parents by their first
names? "Yes," she answered somewhat reluctantly, "but
don't you even think of pulling a Sirius and
enchanting it to fly while they're driving. Regardless
of how much fun my father allegedly said that would
be."

"Flying cars?" Ron said airily. "How utterly
unoriginal. No, I was thinking more along the lines of
interesting exhaust fumes... psychedelic paint jobs... or
maybe transfiguring it into a giant ferret."

"I highly doubt that Malfoy would be flattered by
being immortalized in a Muggle invention, Ron."

"I had no intention of flattering the little bugger."
Ron cracked his knuckles.

Hermione snorted. "I gathered that much." There was
one last all-aboard call and the train lurched into
motion. On later reflection, she supposed that moment
was doomed to be interrupted; the door swung open and
who, of all people, stepped inside but Draco Malfoy.
It was still unfair, though.

"Speak of the devil," Ron commented dryly, his
expression not changing a bit. Hermione was proud of
him for that. He had matured so much those past few
years that it sometimes scared her. "Off to a JDE
convention, I see."

Malfoy scowled. It was a nice change, because smirks
had most definitely been very prominent of late. "Keep
out of it, Weasley. Your family really can't afford
another blemish on their record."

"The only blemish I see around here is you," Ron
responded coolly.

Draco glowered.

Harry looked up and spoke for the first time. "Cat got
your tongue, Malfoy?"

He sneered. "No, Potter, just a weasel."

Hermione put on her most innocent expression. "Looks
like a ferret to me."

"I wouldn't be so damned cocky if I were you, Miss
Mudblood Granger. My father-"

"Has a lot of nerve, not teaching his son any
manners," Ron finished for him, unable to hold back
his temper any longer. Draco seemed to notice that
Harry and Hermione both had their wands drawn and
pointed towards him. In another split second he
remembered Ron's sudden aptitude for wandless magic.
He cleared off, dual shadows trailing him all the way.

"Well," Harry said into the sudden, stiff silence.
"That was unpleasant."

"Agreed," Ron muttered in a decidedly darker tone than
he'd been using minutes before. "He'll get what's
coming to him, though."

"Ron," Hermione warned in her Mrs. Weasley voice, "I
don't want you going after him. I mean it. He's- he's
dangerous, Ron; he has connections, he'll-"

Ron silenced her with a shake of his head. "I didn't
mean me, 'Mione. Contrary to popular belief, I am not
stupid."

"I never said you were stupid."

Harry tuned them out. It was good to know that they
had grown out of their childish bickering- while they
could still go at it like a professional debate team,
their arguments were far less frequent and had much
more meaning. Although, there was that one time when
Hermione had been rumored to be dating Terry Boot of
Ravenclaw... 

Harry smiled to himself. He could recall that
particular argument with astounding clarity. Some
things never changed.

***

Mark and Louise Granger were waiting outside the
barrier at King's Cross Station, looking something
between apprehensive and in very good spirits. It was
an odd combination; comforting and saddening all at
once. Comforting, because even in times like these
people could be happy; and saddening because parents
were worried about their daughter, and she was just
coming home from school.

Hermione was soon engulfed in a warm embrace from her
mother and subsequently from her father. It looked as
if she were turning a bit blue under the pressure.

Ron sighed inwardly, fighting to maintain his calm,
aloof exterior. It saved him from having to share his
thoughts. He wondered if anyone would be shocked if
they knew what he thought about. Hermione, it seemed,
knew or at least suspected. It was difficult to keep
secrets when you sometimes ended up the only person in
your dorm not sleeping in the common room because of
your best friend's nightmares. Other best friends got
curious.

"Hullo, Louise," Ron said with a grin, taking her
gloved hand and kissing it.

Hermione let out a choked gasp and nearly dropped
Crookshanks. Harry just barely managed to hide his
smile behind his hand. Since when was Ron suave and
debonair? 

Mark Granger shook a warning finger at the young
Weasley. "Keep your hands off my wife, you scoundrel!"

Ron grinned even wider and shook hands with Mr.
Granger. "Can I help it if I have a weakness for
Granger women?"

This sent Hermione into a huge coughing fit. Harry,
unable to restrain himself any longer at the absurdity
of Ron's comment, laughed loudly. Hermione's parents
turned to him.

"Harry," Mrs. Granger said fondly. "It's been a long
time! Last time we saw you, you were..."

"Several inches shorter and about fifty pounds
lighter," her husband finished. 

"That's just the winter cloak," Ron muttered, dodging
a swipe from Harry.

"And look how handsome he's become, Mark! He must be
beating off women with a stick!"

"Not only Ginny anymore," Hermione agreed under her
breath. Ron, however, caught it and sent her a Look.
She shrugged non-apologetically. 

Harry, when he was finished turning red, followed the
four of them to the car.

***

The Granger residence was a medium-sized ranch-style
house a fair way out of town. It was decorated with
snow and Christmas lights (which Ron found
fascinating, even though he already knew all about
electric lights from two summers ago), and a fat
Muggle lawn gnome with a Santa hat stood by the
birdbath in the front yard. Ron grinned, remembering
Hermione's first experience with a real gnome.

Inside, a Christmas tree was decorated with more of
the Christmas lights, a smaller variety, and this time
in white instead of red and green. Presents, wrapped
in silver, red, green and gold paper littered the
floor beneath it. Ron thought the house looked very
merry with all the decorations.

After Harry and Ron dropped their stuff off upstairs,
everyone gathered in the kitchen for some cocoa.
Louise Granger was not the greatest chef in the
family- that title was secured by her husband- but she
made a mean cup of hot chocolate. That was good,
because the heater in the van was on the fritz again
and everyone needed their eyebrows thawed out. "The
three of you will have to share a room," she
apologized as she stirred in some more chocolate
powder. "We've got more relatives than we'd originally
counted on, but the second guest bedroom will be big
enough. The children can have 'Mione's room."

Hermione looked a little worried- she probably had
some highly sensitive Muggle stuff in there, Ron
thought. After all, it would be useless at Hogwarts.
Or maybe she just didn't want a couple of toddlers
going through her underwear drawer.

Ron noted with amusement how Hermione's father's
eyebrows shot up at this statement. He shot a look at
Ron and Harry but said nothing. Obviously he knew his
place in the Granger household. As if one of us would
try something funny with the other in the room. And
it's not like Hermione can't take care of herself...He
recalled, once again, the time she'd slapped Malfoy,
and grinned into his chocolate.

Hermione saw this, and kicked him under the table. Ron
glanced up in time to see the Mrs. Weasley look again.
This one said, quite clearly, 'Don't get any ideas.'

Ron grinned even wider and raised his eyebrows. Who,
me?

He got another Mrs. Weasley expression. 'Don't act
innocent.' (Ron didn't catch the part of her face that
said, 'It's too cute, and it's driving me crazy.')

Ron grimaced. Too many rules.

'That's better.'

Harry watched the whole silent expression with a
knowing look on his face. He wondered if they even
noticed they were staring at each other, but decided
not to break the silence. Instead, he turned his
thoughts to more serious matters.

It had been two weeks since he'd last heard of Dark
activity anywhere, and he didn't guess that was a good
sign. He supposed there was going to be a strike
around Christmas time, as there had the year before;
it wasn't good for the light side's morale and the
Death Eaters loved that. He hadn't heard from Sirius
in almost a year, which was either very good because
he was hiding himself so well, or very bad because
he'd been killed and no one had bothered to tell
Harry. At the very least it was worrisome; Sirius
could have at least sent him an owl every once in a
while. It gave Harry something else to be preoccupied
about.

He was so preoccupied, in fact, that he didn't notice
when the chatter around him ceased. He was sitting
with his chin cupped in his right hand while his left
fingers drummed on the tabletop, looking somewhat
forlorn. 

"Harry," Hermione finally said gently.

Harry's head snapped up. "Er- sorry," he apologized.
"I was just, er... thinking."

"Well, stop."

Everyone, including Hermione, was stunned. Harry
finally cracked a grin. "I get the point. I'll stop
brooding, but you have to help. I declare a snowball
war- teens versus adults."

Mrs. Granger shook her head. "Not today. I'm
exhausted."

"Count me out," Mr. Granger agreed. "You three go
ahead."

***

"So how're we going to divvy up the teams?" Ron asked,
testing the wetness of the snow. It would have soaked
through his gloves, but of course they were charmed.
"Boys against girl would, admittedly, not be fair."

"Agreed," Harry said. "So what about Prefects versus
Head Girl?"

Hermione hit him in the leg with a fat, wet snowball. 

"Well," and here Harry sighed dramatically, "the only
other option I can think of is Weasleys versus Potter,
and even that's-" Ron's snowball caught him mid-chest,
causing him to stumble. He stepped back to regroup,
but his foot hit a snowdrift and he fell, laughing,
back into it. 

Then came a deluge of other snowballs; Harry couldn't
tell for sure which of his friends threw which. "I
surrender," he called once his arms were pinned down
by the wet snow.

Ron reached down and pulled him back up again. His
ears were still red from Harry's well-meant jab, or
perhaps from the cold; Harry had trouble telling
anymore. "What did I say?" he asked innocently.

"'Mione's not dating Fred anymore," Ron said with a
grin.

Hermione hit him in the leg with a snowball. "How many
times do I have to tell you? I did not date Fred!"

Uh oh, thought Harry, is that my cue to leave? Hey,
wait a minute. Something got misinterpreted here-

"No, you only went around Hogsmeade with him, arms
linked, without Harry and I-"

Hermione's temper flared. "You had detention," she
said impatiently. "Get it together, Ron-" A snowball
hit her from behind. She whirled around, scooping up a
handful of snow as she did so, but there was nobody
there. 

Another snowball hit her from behind; this time Ron
was behind her.

"You magicked that first snowball!" she accused.
"Cheater."

Harry felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, and you
know what they say about cheaters."

Ron caught the near-identical gleams in his friends'
eyes and didn't like it. "Er- they're all
devastatingly handsome?" he asked, taking small steps
backwards and judging the distance to the back door.

"I'll tell Malfoy you said so," Hermione said, trying
not to grin as she packed her snowball harder.
"Actually, what I was going to say was-"

"Cheaters never prosper," Harry finished, and they
proceeded to bombard Ron with snowballs.

***

It was dark that night, and cold. It was snowing, a
perfect time for sleeping; it should have been too
quiet.

It wasn't.

Ron heard the fist hit the wall again, softer this
time, but knew that no one would wake up. Hermione's
parents had slept though all of her nightmares the
last time he'd visited, and she had had some pretty
nasty ones.

"No," Harry groaned, facing away from him. "No... Run,
Lupin... hold him off..." He quieted down a bit after
that, only to become vocal again seconds later.
"Hermione! Stay back!" Harry rolled over and stuffed
his face into his pillow, muffling his next few words.

In the half-silence, Ron heard something else: a quiet
sniffle from the bed on his other side. He could
barely make out one pale arm against the bedcovers.

Hermione jumped a bit when he reached up and took her
hand in his, then let out all of her breath at once.
"Is it always this bad?" she asked him, leaning over
the side of the bed to see him better.

Ron looked away at his other friend, who had
half-turned again and was murmuring something about
Neville in his sleep. "It can get worse," he
confessed, not wanting to lie to her.

"My God," Hermione breathed, closing her eyes. "It's
no wonder Seamus and the others sleep in the common
room."

"They can't usually hear him through the curtains,"
Ron responded. There was a question written in the
next pause, and he answered it darkly: "They only do
that when he starts screaming."

Hermione put her other hand over her mouth to stifle
the sob. "How do you stand that? Hearing him
experience the pain in his dreams? He can't get away,
not even when he's sleeping."

Ron didn't answer, just shook his head mutely.

"Hermione! Don't! Stay away! NO!" Harry nearly shouted
the last bit, and Ron heard Hermione cover another
sob.

"Never mind, just keep talking. Ron? Don't fall
asleep."

"No... Ron, leave her... can't help her now... You bastard!"

Ron squeezed her hand tighter. "Best not to think
about it," he advised.

"Can you reach the stereo?" Hermione suddenly asked.
She'd shown him how to use it years ago; he'd been
hooked on Muggle music ever since. 

Ron stretched out a limber arm and shoved the plug
into the socket, then touched the power button.
Nothing happened.

Hermione swore worse than Ron had ever suspected she
could, half-sitting up in bed to examine his work in
the darkness. "Are you sure it's plugged in properly?
Please tell me it just isn't plugged in properly." 

Harry interrupted her again, this time with more soft
pounding on the wall. "Avada," he muttered. "Avada...
Ava- no, no... auris. Not Crucio! No!" He had curled up
into a ball in his sleep and was rocking back and
forth.

Ron shook his head and Hermione flopped back onto the
pillows. "The power's out," she growled. "I don't
believe it. The one time you need a distraction and-"

"Do you want me to distract you?" Ron broke in. "I
mean, ah... that came out wrong."

Under other circumstances, Hermione would have
laughed. "If you think you can do it without waking
Harry," she answered. "He needs all the sleep he can
get, nightmares or no."

"My singing voice isn't that bad. Harry can sleep
through anything these days." Ron took a deep breath,
still absently stroking the back of Hermione's hand.
He searched his mind for something soothing, then
began; a low note which already sounded somewhat
mournful. "When the night has come... and the land is
dark," he sang, not really warmed up and a tad
roughly. "And the moon is the only light we'll see,"

Harry took this moment to interrupt with, "Never take
me... he's innocent! Ron, tell them!"

Ron tried resolutely not to be distracted. "Oh I won't
be afraid, just as long as you stand by me. Stand by
me," he continued, now having to ignore both
Hermione's inarticulate sniffling and Harry's cries
for help. He lost himself in the chorus for a while,
not knowing how many times he actually sang it; he
might've skipped a line or he might've sung it a
hundred times; it didn't matter. It wasn't working.
"If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall,"

"Sirius, thassa trap... get away, Ginny-"

"All the mountains should crumble to the sea." Ginny?
Not Ginny. I don't want Harry to have dreams about my
sister, let alone nightmares.

"It's cursed- cursed- make it stop... stop!"

Hermione's hand was shaking in his grip. "I won't cry;
no I won't shed a tear," although he wasn't really
sure of that if Hermione kept on the way she was
going, "Just as long as you stand by me..." He finished
the song and the room was quiet again; 'Mione's hand
was limp and he hoped she was deeply asleep, because
he didn't want to wake up to her crying again. Harry,
too, was silent, or mostly so; he kept repeating, "No,
no, take me," in a very soft voice, still rocking back
and forth in his sleeping bag. Ron closed his eyes. It
was going to be a very long night. He kissed
Hermione's hand, then gently disentangled his from
hers and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

***

Breakfast that morning was a silent affair- Mr. and
Mrs. Granger had gone off to fetch relatives from the
train station, and Ron was off somewhere doing
who-knew-what. Hermione was tired and felt slightly
awkward at having experienced her friend's nightmare;
Harry was looking even more subdued than usual. He was
blotting a sheet of parchment with one hand and eating
a piece of toast with the other when Ron came in
through the back door, sticking his wand into his
pocket.

"Someone got up early," Hermione commented, spreading
jam on her toast. 

"You know me," Ron answered distractedly, grabbing the
other piece of warm bread off of her plate. Hermione
thought it rather odd that there was a trickle of
sweat running down his forehead and wondered if he'd
just been out on his morning run again. (She didn't
admit to herself that she had noticed the other
rivulets of sweat that were dripping down the back of
his neck, presumably down his back and- she stopped.
That's enough! He's Ron! You got over him in fifth
year!) "Always busy, never a moment to lose."

Hermione snorted, trying to cover her conspicuous
stare, and slapped at his hand as he made off with her
breakfast. "You make it sound like you aren't the guy
who leaves his homework until the morning it's due."

"I'm busy the rest of the time," Ron proclaimed, mouth
half-full. He swallowed and pulled out a chair. "I
never said I was Plan Ahead Man." 

Crookshanks meowed in agreement and jumped into Ron's
lap. Hermione glared at him. Traitor. "Procrastination
Guy is more like it," she muttered, taking a big bite
of her (now cold) toast.

Ron feigned indignancy. "Thank you for insulting me in
front of my cat."

"Crookshanks is not your property! He hardly belongs
to anyone; he does what he wants."

"That makes him as much mine as yours then, doesn't
it?" Ron perfected this little quip with a knowing
half-smile.

"Ooh," Hermione made a frustrated sound and muttered
something that sounded suspiciously like curse words
under her breath. She pointed the rest of her
breakfast at him, punctuating her words with shakes of
toast. "You had better behave for Christmas." With
that, she stacked their dishes in the dishwasher,
grabbed her coat, and ran outside for a breath of
fresh air.

Harry had never met Hermione's relatives before, and
all of a sudden he had a lot of names to memorize at
once. There were Kevin and Katie, three-year-old twins
who had a Gred-and-Forge-ish air about them; there was
Aunt Grace, a slender woman in her mid-thirties; and
there was Uncle Hector, with a shiny patch atop his
head (Harry had watched him peel off the twins' boots
and witnessed Katie's comment about this- "Daddy,
you've got a big bare-naked spot up there!").
Hermione's other aunt, Erin, had appeared with her
cousins Elena, twelve; and Danny, fifteen. This left
something to be desired for sleeping arrangements in
the house.

Aunt Erin gladly agreed to sleep on the couch in the
lounge, and Elena didn't mind sharing Hermione's room
with the twins. Grace and Hector had the first guest
bedroom to themselves, which left Danny.

He was a slightly moody teenager, Harry thought, and
probably a bit spoiled; he refused to sleep on the
sofa in the living room or on the floor in Hermione's
("I'm not sleepin' in a girl's room!"). They finally
settled the matter by having Ron and Hermione venture
into the basement to 'find' an old army cot (which
Danny thought was the ultimate cool) and set it up in
the guest bedroom. 

Harry's attention was drawn away from the twins'
antics (they were doing their best to dress
Crookshanks up like a doll; Crookshanks wasn't having
any of it) and focused on the door to the room the
three of them were staying in. Ron and Hermione had
been in there, unsupervised, for twenty minutes. He
wondered if that were safe and somehow doubted it.

***

Ron followed Hermione down the stairs, careful to duck
his head about halfway down to compensate for the low
ceiling. "What exactly are we looking for, 'Mione?" He
stood up too soon at the bottom and smacked his head
on a beam, cursing.

Hermione didn't bother to tell him to watch his
language. "We are not looking for anything- we're
going to transfigure something into a cot..."

Ron snorted. "We? Have you forgotten how abysmally bad
I am at Transfiguration?" He watched doubtfully as
Hermione pulled a rug out from hiding in a corner. 

She pointed her wand at it. "Give me a break, you
could've done this in first year if you'd studied a
little harder- we just have to do it really fast so
that the Muggles don't see..."

"Who's going to see us in your basement?" Ron asked,
slightly flustered. "Anyway, my wand's upstairs-"

Hermione made her frustrated noise and Transfigured
the cot. Ron didn't really see what she was on about-
she obviously had no problems in the Transfiguration
department and there was no reason he could see for
him to actually go to the basement. "Speaking of,"
Hermione said, looking up from lifting an end of the
cot, motioning for Ron to do the same, "what were you
doing this morning?"

Ron's jaw tightened. So that's what she dragged me
down here for. "I'll tell you later. Ready?" She
nodded, and together they carried the cot upstairs. 

"So what was it?" Hermione asked as Ron shut the door
softly behind him.

He leaned back against it and closed his eyes, sighing
heavily. "Promise you won't tell Harry," he said, his
tone flat and uncompromising.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Okay," she said, somewhat
unsure of what to expect.

"I was ward-casting," Ron said quietly, looking at the
floor. 

Hermione's mouth fell open as the full impact of what
Ron had said hit her. "You... that's... How?" she finally
asked. They both knew how much practice, skill and
energy it took to cast warding spells.

He rubbed his eyes with one hand. "A gift," he said
finally. "Dumbledore-" And here he stopped, for they
both knew how much the man meant to him, and how much
it hurt him that his mentor and role model was missing
in action, "He wanted someone to be able to watch over
Harry, someone close, that could report to him. Of
course you were his first choice, especially because
of my admittedly volatile personality-" Hermione
didn't laugh- "but you were already plenty busy with
being a Prefect." Ron paused here for a moment, then
continued, "And then there's the fact that, well, you
don't witness his nightmares like some of us do..." He
shrugged. "Dumbledore fed me some potion... must've been
Veritaserum, making sure I wasn't working for the
enemy. That's how I learned the whole wandless thing,
anyway."

"That would explain the drastic change in your DADA
marks, at least," Hermione murmured, still somewhat
shocked. "Ron, that's really dangerous, are you sure-"

"If I had any doubts, 'Mione, I settled them a long
time ago. It's the only thing I can do, in school at
least, to help the light side. For Harry's sake."

Hermione felt her eyes tearing up. "Oh- oh Ron, I'm so
proud of you."

Oh no, Ron thought, she's getting all girly again.
"Hermione- don't cry, please don't cry."

It was too little too late, however, and probably only
sent her further over the edge. A fat tear rolled down
one cheek and Ron reached over to brush it away.
Feeling awkward as ever, he pulled her close to him
and let her cry it out, wondering why on Earth he'd
had to tell her that, then.

None too soon, the door pushed open behind him and
Harry gave a startled exclamation. "Sorry, Ron... I'm
not interrupting anything, am I?"

Hermione had the presence of mind to wipe the
tearstains from her face before looking up. "Oh, you!"
Without thinking, she Summoned something from the bed
and threw it at him.

Harry stepped back, laughing at the object he'd caught
in one hand. It was fluffy and missing an eye. "What's
this when it's at home?" he asked, grinning.

Hermione tried to glare, but she took one look at the
stuffed animal Harry was holding and burst out
laughing. "I've been wondering where that had got to,"
she said. "I haven't seen this in years!"

"Glad I could be of help. So what is it?"

"Well," Hermione said, "it was a rat once. I think
Crookshanks got hold of it, though, and you know what
he's like with rats."

Harry allowed himself a moment of reflection. The year
before, Wormtail had been on the Hogwarts grounds
again. Once he'd transformed, Crookshanks lost no time
whatsoever in taking a large piece of the tail that
had given him the nickname. "Filthy creatures," he
said, unconsciously twisting what he presumed used to
be the neck of the stuffed animal. The remaining eye
popped off. Harry looked at it somewhat
non-apologetically and sighed. "They just don't make
them like they used to."

***

The next evening, all twelve of them gathered round an
incredibly crowded dining-room table. The last
twenty-four hours had been somewhat uneventful, if you
counted Elena's continued squealing about how cute Ron
was as uneventful, or indeed if 'uneventful' was
possible with Katie and Kevin running amok. Harry was
quite certain that they had some magical abilities;
how they'd managed to get Crookshanks into a bassinet
without getting their eyes clawed out was a mystery to
him. 

At this particular moment, Katie and Kevin were
squabbling over who had eaten more mashed potatoes;
Ron, who had volunteered to sit on Katie's right, had
some in his hair but was pretending not to notice.
Hermione was looking slightly exhausted and Harry
cringed, knowing he must've been yelling in his sleep
the night before. 

It was, much to Danny's chagrin, his and Elena's turn
to help clear the table. Grace and Hector went
upstairs to put the twins to bed, and the Dream Team
retired to the study to relax.

"I can't believe the three-year-olds have more energy
than I do," Hermione yawned, flopping down onto one
end of the couch.

Harry, being extraordinarily perceptive as he was, sat
at the other end. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, but
flopped down between the two. "Now what?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "We could watch a video, if you
want. Mum rented one for us..." The rest of her words
were swallowed by a yawn.

Ron shrugged. "Works for me."

Hermione got up just long enough to pop the tape in
the VCR. She then fast-forwarded through about fifteen
minutes of useless video- "What is she wearing?
Honestly." Finally, the title materialized on the
screen.

"'My Best Friend's Wedding?'" Ron asked dubiously.
"That sounds very girly. Should I be running from the
room screaming, 'Mione?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen it
before."

Harry told them both to hush up. "I'm trying to watch
the movie!"

A half hour later, they were thoroughly involved in
the plot and betting on the outcome of the movie. "I'm
telling you guys, she's going to end up losing her
best friend for this. She's being totally cruel; not
only that, but this blonde chick's going to end up
hating her guts," Harry punctuated this sentiment with
a shake of a piece of popcorn in the air.

Ron shook his head. "I don't think so. He's far too
nice to hate her forever just because she tried to
break up his wedding. I don't know about the girl,
though. He turned his head to look at Hermione, who
was half-asleep on his shoulder, just barely holding
on to consciousness. He wondered how much caffeine
she'd had to drink to even stay that awake. "What do
you think, Herm?"

"That's me in five years," Hermione yawned morosely. 

Harry and Ron exchanged looks: Harry's was knowing and
open and grinning; Ron's, somewhat confused and almost
wistful. "Right," he said, and they watched the rest
of the movie in silence.

***

By the end, no one was awake enough to shut off the
television. Harry was leaning back over the arm of the
sofa, curled around just enough so that his head
didn't droop over the side. Ron, beside him, had his
feet up on the table and Hermione pretty much in his
lap. Her head rested on Harry's knee, but her feet
were on Ron's other side. Ron had his arm curled
around her waist in a somewhat sleepy attempt to keep
her from falling and jarring herself awake. 

Blissfully, Christmas Eve was free of nightmares and
the only dreams experienced were of sugarplums.
(Except in Ron's case, but we won't get in to that;
suffice it to say that he was rather surprised to find
Hermione in his lap when he awoke.)

***

None of the adults had the heart to wake the three
teens Christmas morning, but it was not so with Elena
and Danny (who might've actually muttered,
"Threesome," under his breath). Luckily for him, the
twins ran screaming through the room and saved him
from the wrath of a particularly vengeful Ron, who
would have gone after Kevin for tearing into his
presents with such vigor but was somewhat pinned down
by Hermione, who was being uncharacteristically slow
in getting up. Harry, however, rolled over and fell
off of the couch flat-out, which woke Hermione.

"Morning, sunshine," Ron yawned affectionately,
stretching full-out on the couch now that Harry was
gone.

"Merry Christmas, Ron," Hermione muttered back,
sitting up.

"Sure, ignore the guy laying on a heap on the floor."
Harry sat up and eyed the two of them suspiciously.
"How long have I been on the floor, by the way?"

Ron ignored him. "Come on, you two- presents!"

Ignoring Hermione's "Ron, you're such a first-year!" -
he made his way over to the mound of presents wrapped
in brown paper (wrapped brown both so as not to stand
out to Muggle eyes, and because owl claws were likely
to scratch up fancy ribbons anyway). Doling them out
between Harry, Hermione and himself, Ron noted that
there seemed to be more than usual- Bill, Charlie,
Percy, Fred and George, along with his parents, had
all sent gifts. He grinned at the dragonhide jacket
Charlie claimed he'd spelled from a dragon's shed
skin. It was most definitely the coolest thing in his
wardrobe.

Hermione had wondered at first about opening wizard
presents in front of Muggles, but realized she needn't
worry: they already had Unremarkable charms on them to
keep nonfamiliars from noticing them while they were
being delivered. She opened the package from Fred and
George cautiously and laughed when she saw the Canary
Creams in their new stylish wrappers.

Harry's own presents included a subscription to a
Quidditch magazine, a large square of fudge, and some
dragonhide trousers. (Hermione was trying very hard
not to be horrified at the length of the dragonhide
skirt Charlie had sent her, or lack thereof.) All in
all, it was a very rewarding Christmas, but Harry had
never even imagined that his gift from Hermione and
her parents would be anything so welcome.

At around eleven, the doorbell rang. Hermione stood
up, grinning, and ran to answer it. Harry dismissed it
as nothing important at first, but when she came back
a minute later he was totally dumbstruck.

"Sirius!" he exclaimed, and rushed forward to embrace
his godfather. Behind him was Professor Lupin; luckily
for everyone involved the Muggles had moved to the
living room. "What are you two doing here?"

"Dropping by for a well-needed rest," Sirius answered.
"Have you any idea what we've been going through
trying to contact you? But Alastor Moody won't let us-
says it's too risky. Still-" here he ruffled Harry's
hair affectionately, "it's good to be here."

Harry thought at that moment that he really ought to
thank Hermione- but she and Ron had gone, and he was
grateful. This was a time for his family, he felt,
although they would be welcome later.

My family, he thought, then grinned. I do have a
family after all; I have Sirius and Remus and Hermione
and Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. 

At that moment, Harry thought he must be the luckiest
boy in the world.

***

Going back to school was not an entirely unpleasant
prospect after the vacation. Harry and Ron had
successfully given Hermione her vacation, whether for
better or for worse. Three days with twins had been
trying, but probably not as trying as keeping Hermione
out of the library would have been.

Ron was almost ready to go back to Potions (this was
good, as he was about three minutes late for it) after
the final day with the terrors; he'd decided that they
were more than a match for Fred and George any day.
Scowling at his professor as Snape confiscated house
points, he sank down into his chair between Hermione
and Harry. "I suppose we'll have to be testing the
Veritaserum," he muttered darkly.

"My Veritaserum is nothing to worry about," Hermione
said matter-of-factly. "It's me who should be doing
the worrying; I've got to drink yours as Snape's just
paired Harry with Neville."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Poor Harry. Maybe we should be
trying this in the hospital wing."

Hermione slapped his arm playfully. "Don't be cruel." 

They stared down at their goblets (which were, from
appearances at least, perfectly equal in quality) for
a few moments. "Well, this is it," Ron said, raising
his, "I suppose we'd best get this over with." And he
took a sip.

Willpower alone kept Ron from spitting it all over his
best friend. He swallowed quickly. "That stuff tastes
like-" (and here he said something which made Hermione
say, "Ron!") He shrugged. "Well, at least we know it's
working."

Hermione laughed. "Okay- right, to the questions. Umm...
when's your birthday?"

"April twelfth," Ron answered without hesitation.

"What, in your opinion, is the stupidest thing you've
ever done?"

"I said, 'Neville's right, Hermione, you are a girl...'
To your face."

Hermione grinned a little at this... it was getting
interesting. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," answered Ron immediately. "Come on, 'Mione,
ask me something interesting."

She was not long in asking. "Why must you always call
me that?"

Ron's eyes grew wide. "Uh, Hermione, don't ask me
that. You don't want to hear the answer- ask me
something else, quick-"

"Answer my question, Ron," she said sternly, now quite
interested in what he had to say.

Ron sulked another second before answering dutifully,
"If you take out the 'o', it spells, 'mine.'" He
turned a brilliant shade of red for about three
seconds, and then the effects of the potion wore off.
"I told you that you didn't want to know," he said,
shrugging. "Now it's your turn. Bottoms up, Hermione."

She was about to resist and say something else, but
figured it was probably futile. She coughed a bit into
her hand after she'd taken a swig- Veritaserum was
nasty stuff indeed. "Oh, disgusting, it really does
taste like-"

"Hermione!" Ron looked totally shocked that she'd just
said that. "Oh, wait, this could be fun..."

I have a very bad feeling about this, Hermione
thought.

"What's your middle name?"

"Louise," she answered sourly. She's always hated that
name.

"Do you really think Lavender and Seamus make a good
couple?"

"Yes. They deserve each other." Hermione was even
beginning to smile a little. Veritaserum made
everything just that much less complicated.

Ron grinned, getting into the swing of things. "What
color are Viktor Krum's knickers?"

"No idea, although I suspect they've got the Bulgarian
Quidditch team's logo on them."

"Is he really a gentleman?"

"No. He's a total prat. I only went to the Yule Ball
with him because he asked me before you did." Oh no,
she thought miserably. I meant to say, 'because he
asked me first.' But I wouldn't have gone with
Neville, and he asked next- oh, this is confusing-

"Do you love me?" 

It took Hermione's brain about fifteen seconds to
process that fully- she couldn't tell if he was
serious or if he was joking, if he was just teasing
her or if he really wanted to know- if he wanted her
to answer in the affirmative or not- but it didn't
matter what he wanted to hear- "Yes," she said, not
making eye contact. Damn.

She felt hands on her shoulders and was forced to look
up at Ron's face. Hermione tried and failed to read
the expression brewing there. His eyes twinkled
merrily at her. "Good." 

And he kissed her, there, in the middle of the Potions
lab.

Hermione took a minute to be totally aware that yes,
Ron was kissing her and yes, it was in Snape's
classroom and yes, they were probably going to get
detention. She also registered that she'd been
correct: Ron really did have to bend quite far down to
kiss her. 

She also noticed that he tasted like Veritaserum and
decided thus that no, it was definitely not a dream.

Ron pulled away then, and whatever part of the class
had been paying attention burst into applause.
Hermione turned scarlet, especially so when Ron
muttered something about Veritaserum-breath, and she
cuffed him on the shoulder.

Across the room, Harry grinned to himself. He was
looking a bit green around the gills but none the
worse for wear. And he could have sworn that, if even
for just a minute, Professor Snape had smiled.

THE END