Chapter 16: Epilogue

"Hugh Granger, you're impossible."

"Eleanor, those letters were private — confidential correspondence between me and Ron," he muttered as they drove up the motorway, heading back to Cambridge after their latest weekend visit to The Burrow. "If I'd known you might want to show them to Hermione someday, well, I probably would have written them very, very differently."

Eleanor sighed and shook her head, squirming in her seat and wiping condensation from the passenger side window as they sped past green fields shrouded in springtime mist. "Honestly, Hugh, it was seven years ago — ancient history!"

"And besides," Hugh continued, pausing for a moment to adjust the rear-view mirror. "All we wrote about in the last few weeks before he proposed was chess strategy. Hermione won't care about that."

"Which reminds me," Eleanor huffed, "do you and Ron *have* to play chess constantly whenever we're together? I can be quite tiresome."

"Ron doesn't seem to mind," Hugh countered. "And one of these days, I swear to high heavens I'm going to beat him."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Stop changing the subject, darling. Ron's already agreed to hand over the letters you sent him, and he says he agrees that an album containing both of your letters would be the *perfect* fifth anniversary gift for Hermione."

Hugh grunted. "Ron only agreed because he doesn't want to land on his mother-in-law's bad side."

"I always told you he was an unusually bright young man," Eleanor replied, crossing her arms.

Hugh couldn't help but smile at that.

Eleanor eventually prevailed, of course, and was set to present a leather-bound album containing the 1998 correspondence between Ron and Hugh to Hermione on the eve of the young couple's fifth wedding anniversary, but her plans were interrupted by a panicked phone call from Hermione. Ron was injured on a mission. He was unconscious in the intensive care ward at St. Mungo's. The doctors gave him a decent chance of a full recovery, but Hermione was still unnerved beyond belief, especially because the Healers said he'd need to be kept under a Sleeping spell for more than a week.

As Eleanor and Hugh hurriedly packed their bags to stand vigil with Hermione and the Weasleys at Ron's bedside, Eleanor spied the album, wrapped and sitting on her bedside table. After pausing for a moment, she hoisted the album into her arms, reckoning this gift could now serve as more than a mere anniversary present. And indeed, as she counted the hours until Ron was returned to her whole and intact, Hermione read the letters inside time and time again.

oooOOOooo

14 September 1998
St. Agnes Island

Dear Mr. Granger,

What I'm about to say seems like the sort of thing that should be discussed in person, man to man, but since you're still in Australia and I'm here at Auror Academy whether I like it or not, I reckon a letter is going to have to do.

Sir, I don't think it'll come as news to you that I'm in love with your daughter and have been for a long time. And as I said — or, well, blurted — at the clinic a few weeks ago, I intend to ask her to marry me.

What you don't know, I suppose, is that I've decided not to put it off any longer.

Hermione would be right hacked off if I did something as old-fashioned as asking you for your permission. I'd probably be setting myself up for a lecture about how I wasn't respecting her independence or somesuch, and I'd probably deserve it.

Even so, it doesn't seem right for a bloke to do something as big as proposing marriage to a girl without talking to her father about it first.

Sir, I know all I can offer you are words, but I want you to know that I don't take the idea of marriage lightly. If Hermione says yes, I'll be thrilled, of course, but I'm pretty sure I'll also be a bit staggered by it, too. It's a big responsibility, after all. I also know you're bound to have worries. We *are* young, it's true, but I think the war has matured us both — and that's putting it mildly. And you have big dreams for your daughter, as you should. Hermione is ruddy amazing, and I'll do whatever I can to help her become the mind-boggling, world-changing arse-kicker she's meant to be.

Mostly, all I really want is for Hermione to be happy. If she lets me, I'll spend my life trying to make that happen. I'd feel better about that mission, however, if you and I were sorted. Like I said, Hermione would probably brain me if I asked your permission, but I would feel a lot better if I had your blessing. And if I can't have your blessing, then I suppose it's only fair to hear you out and know what your objections are, so I can try to fix whatever's wrong. At the very least, I reckoned you deserve a heads-up that I'm about to ask your daughter this really big question. I know if I had a daughter, I'd bloody well want to know something like that.

I haven't mapped out all the details yet, but I think my first leave — at Halloween — is when I'll give it a bash. So there's time to talk this out by Owl Post before then. I know you likely haven't fannied about with international Owls before. The Owl that delivers this message will likely hang about and wait for you to write a response if you tell it to. (Don't feel weird about talking to Owls, by the way — they're dead intelligent creatures, and they'll understand every word you say.) Once you've written your response, clip it to the Owl's leg and tell it the message is bound for Ronald Weasley, British Auror Academy, St. Agnes Island, Isles of Scilly, U.K. It'll get to me, but there's usually a two or three day delay between Australia and Britain.

I'd ask you to give my best to Hermione and her Mum, but I reckon you'd rather keep this correspondence under wraps, wouldn't you. So I guess I'll just say good luck with the packing and I hope you and Hermione are enjoying your time together. I know it means a lot to her.

Sincerely,

Ron Weasley.

oooOOOooo

17 September 1998
Yarranabbe Road
Darling Point
Sydney

Ron,

I admit, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I got your letter — not that your feelings for my daughter are unknown to me. Far from it. I simply didn't expect that you were planning to take things to the next level quite so soon.

You have unfortunately seen how short my fuse can be — and I confess that, when I read that you intend to pop the question to Hermione over the Halloween weekend, I did indeed lose the plot, at least for a short while.

That said, I haven't entirely forgotten what it is to be young, Ron. I was in quite a similar position to yours at one time, though I was a few years older. The point is, I know you care for Hermione — and that she returns those feelings. I'm hardly in a position to stand in your way, and I'm smarter than to attempt to stand in hers. Therefore, all I can rightly do is share my concerns and hope that you will heed them.

I am, of course, concerned that you are both quite young to be taking this step.

It isn't lost on me that people in the wizarding world tend to marry earlier than we non-wizards do, and Hermione points out that wizarding marriages tend to be durable ones, in part because of the magic involved. Your own parents are certainly a testament to the lasting power of wizarding vows. I take some comfort in Hermione's general assurances on the subject of wizarding marriage (though I don't want to give you the impression that she expects a proposal — I'm quite sure she doesn't). She tells me that, if a witch and wizard aren't meant to be married, then the magic involved in the bonding ceremony simply doesn't stick. I will therefore have to place my trust in the bonding ceremony itself and hope for the best. As you may learn yourself someday if you are ever so lucky to become a father, hoping for the best is sometimes all that there is for it — parenthood is life's greatest leap of faith.

You'll notice that I am operating on the assumption that if you ask Hermione to marry you, she will say yes, because I am not pigheaded enough to attempt to fool myself on this point.

All I would ask is that you make good on your promise to keep her happiness uppermost in your mind as the two of you plan your future together. You have demonstrated through words and actions that Hermione is important to you. I can only ask you to multiply that feeling by a factor of, say, ten to imagine how precious she is to *me.* She is my child — and my only one, at that — and from the moment I was aware that she was on her way, her well-being has been my primary goal in life. Some day you'll understand what I mean.

Until then, I hope you will put up with me when I ask you to lay out your plans and goals. Please write and set my mind to rest on some key matters — particularly financial.

Very truly,

Hugh Granger.

P.S. — I managed to keep your news from Eleanor and I plan to continue doing so. My wife and Hermione are quite close, as you know, and I imagine that, if she knew your intentions, it would be supremely difficult for Eleanor not to spoil your surprise. Also, in light of your news, it seems ridiculous to have you continue to call me Mr. Granger. Call me Hugh from now on, won't you?

oooOOOooo

20 September 1998
St. Agnes Island

Dear Hugh,

It's going to take me a while to get used to calling you anything but "Mr. Granger."

Anyway, I'm sorry if my letter threw you for a loop, but I reckoned it was best to let you know sooner rather than later. You're right to ask about plans and goals, sir. I have been thinking a lot about those things myself — that is, when I'm not in training, which currently takes up most of my waking hours.

Barring some unforeseen cock-up, I expect to graduate from Auror Academy here at St. Agnes at Christmastime. After that, qualified graduates move on to advanced training at the Corps' Camden facility. There are no guarantees about this — in fact, about half of the recruits usually drop out or get cut before the St. Agnes session ends. That said, the Auror Academy chiefs seem to put a lot of stock in scoring — written tests, physical tests, field tests, the works — and I reckon it's not likely that I'll be cut. That's because I currently have the highest total score and have done since about the second week. (That said, I should note that Harry is a close No. 2. His Defensive scores are a bit higher than mine, and he beats me in Dueling. But I seem to do better in a lot of the physical stuff — probably just because I'm bigger than he is, really — and Tactics is sort of a natural for me, I guess, because I'm kind of good at chess. So there's that.)

The good news about Camden is that, unlike St. Agnes, recruits don't have to live on campus. No more dormitories, no more cafeterias. Looking forward to that. Advanced training lasts until May. Again, there are no guaranteed outcomes at Camden. We're warned that a quarter of the recruiting class typically gets the ax during this part of the training — sometimes as much as half the class. That said, the head of the Auror Corps, Bernard Brocklehurst, recently talked privately with me and Harry about officer training after Camden — which you have to be invited to take, I'm told — so, well, it's hard to judge our chances. Though I can't imagine Brocklehurst would take the trouble to mention it to us if we were total long-shots. Well, there's not much to do about that right now, is there. I reckon all I can do is keep my nose to the grindstone here at St. Agnes and let the rest work itself out in due time.

If you're surprised that I'm doing reasonably well at St. Agnes, you wouldn't be the only one. Let's face it: As a Hogwarts student, I hardly set the world on fire. I held my own, got some decent OWLs, and didn't totally embarrass myself, but I'm nothing compared to Hermione academically speaking. I figure the difference has something to do with the war — doing well matters more to me now than it did before — and, well, the stuff I'm learning now feels like it'll be dead useful. Lives — like, mainly, Hermione's — could depend on me getting these things right. Sort of makes it easier to sit up and pay attention when you look at it all in that light. Voldemort may be dead and gone, but I'm sorry to say some of his followers and sympathizers remain — and I won't rest until every last one of them is locked up and no longer a threat to the people I care about most.

You might wonder why I even want to be an Auror at all, and I wouldn't blame you for wondering. It's a difficult job, and it can be dangerous, too. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an Auror because it seemed like it would be a monumentally cool adventure. Then the war happened, of course, and that changed everything for me. Now I just want to help make things right in the world, to make it safer — first, for Hermione, then for my family, which includes Harry and now you and Mrs. Granger, then for my friends and I guess the wizarding world in general, and finally for my kids. Not that they're on the horizon — I don't mean to scare you — but, you know, eventually I hope to have a few, and I want them to live in a safe world, or at least a safer world than the one I grew up in. I don't mean to sound melodramatic — I had a great childhood and I'm damned lucky — but it might have been nice to go to Hogwarts and have my biggest worry be something like, say, passing my Potions final rather than having to protect my best friend from a homicidal maniac and his buddies.

You asked about money, and I can honestly say for the first time in my life that I actually have some. Well, quite a lot, actually. More than I ever dreamed I'd have. You don't have to worry that I'm going to run around and blow it all — I know what it is *not* to have much money, and I never want to experience that again.

I should note that Aurors are paid exceptionally well. Not enough to get rich, mind, but well enough. But there's more to the financial picture than that.

You might know — but, then again, you might not — that Harry, Hermione and I have been receiving all sorts of awards and whatnot from wizarding governments all over the world since the war ended, not that we expected anything of the sort. The biggest surprise, at least to me, is that most of these honors come with buckets of money. Ruddy amazing, that. The British Ministry's Order of Merlin came with a 25,000 galleon honorarium for each of us, which in and of itself would be nearly enough to set a bloke up for life if he was to mind his knuts and sickles. It's a bit awkward to talk about money, but you're entitled to know. The American Department of Magic awarded us the Salem Prize, which comes with 10,000 Staters apiece. Germany gave us the Vaettir's Crown and 5,000 ducats each. We got the Prix de Sorcier from the French ministry, plus 3,000 livres. And there's more coming in from Japan, Norway, Brazil, Canada, Spain, Italy, Turkey, Iran — the list goes on. Don't ask me what any of these foreign wizarding currencies equal in British muggle pounds — I have no blooming idea. I just know my portion adds up to an awful lot — enough to provide a safety net for the future for Hermione and me, and what's mine is hers as far as I'm concerned. (Hermione has received the same amounts, but that's for her to do with as she pleases. I have enough now to take care of both of us, especially since the only things I want in life — the only things you can buy, that is — would be a nice cottage somewhere, a new wizarding chess set, a competition-grade broom and maybe season's tickets to the Chudley Cannons.)

All of which is to say that, though I would never have expected it, I'm more or less sorted when it comes to money. And I understand why you would ask. If she says yes (and I'm not quite as confident about that as you are), then it will be my responsibility to take care of her and any kids that may come along at some point down the road. Hermione would likely hex me for saying so — and you for expecting it — because Merlin knows she's more than capable of taking care of herself. If the pattern of our friendship is any guide, Hermione and I are likely to always be more or less equal partners in pretty much everything. Well, she's loads better than me at most things, but there are one or two things I have been able to do for her over time — mainly, keeping her from working herself to death. And even if she thinks I'm backwards for thinking so, I believe looking after her is going to be my job — if she lets me — and that includes making sure there's enough money to keep a roof over her head and keep her fed. That's not the only thing, of course, but it's a big thing and I think I can manage it. I hope you agree.

Well, I hope I have been able to put your mind to rest on at least a few points. I'm willing to answer any other questions you may have, sir. I'm sure you won't be shy about asking if there's anything else you'd like to know. Fire away.

Sincerely,

Ron.

P.S. — I hope you all had a great time celebrating Hermione's birthday last night. Wish I could have been there with you. Though I suppose I should be happy that you are at least back in the U.K. as of today. Owl delivery should be much faster now.

oooOOOooo

23 September 1998
Sedley Taylor Road
Cambridge

Ron,

We did indeed have a lovely birthday dinner for Hermione on our last night in Australia. Though there are things I will miss about Sydney, I must confess it's good to be home. The Ministry has done an excellent job in helping us with the transition. I must say, I continue to be amazed at the way everyone seems to roll out the red carpet for Hermione. It seems you three are indeed considered heroes in Britain as well as abroad, and I don't mind saying I'm proud of you all.

I appreciate the candor you displayed in your last letter. It's a father's duty to pry into such matters on his daughter's behalf, I'm afraid, but I was pleased that you offered the information I sought with such openness.

If you will indulge me, I would like now to ask for your thoughts as they relate to Hermione's professional future. I don't need to tell you how extraordinarily gifted she is. Now that you have addressed my worries regarding finances, my mind turns to Hermione's ambitions and my concern that marriage and perhaps children might impede her advancement. I hope you understand, Ron, that I mean no personal disrespect by raising these questions. I simply want to be sure that you have considered all the possible angles before taking this very important step.

Sincerely,

Hugh.

P.S. — You mentioned wizard chess in your last letter. Is that quite the same as muggle chess? I played a fair bit of chess in my day back at university — and I don't mind saying I wasn't half bad. Have you read Lasker's Manual? It's bloody good.

oooOOOooo

24 September 1998
St. Agnes Island

Hugh,

What I want more than anything, sir, is for your daughter to be safe and happy. I am hoping she'll decide she can be happy with *me* but, even if she has other ideas, I could never wish anything less for her than total happiness. I'm no saint — I'll be gutted if she says no — but I''d try to get over it eventually and would hope, in my heart of hearts, that she goes on to be everything she wants to be, even if she chooses to spend her life with somebody else.

These may sound like puffy promises, but they're not. I know they're not because, frankly, Hermione and I have both stared death in the face more than once, and there were times, during the worst of the war, when I was pretty sure we weren't going to make it. Stuff like that can change a person, I think.

When I was younger, I could be an insensitive prat sometimes — Hermione was never shy about telling me so. I wasn't always the most observant bloke around, I thought a lot about myself and my own needs, and I was kind of a dope about stuff like feelings. But then, Dumbledore died and the fight against Voldemort got intense, and I had to grow up fast. Well, all three of us did. Dumbledore set a task for us — a task that looked pretty damned impossible sometimes — and all three of us knew there was a good chance we wouldn't survive to see it completed. I'm sure it's upsetting to hear this now, Hugh, especially since you weren't in a position to do anything about it. But that's the way it was.

At times when the shit was really hitting the fan (sorry), I prayed Hermione and Harry could make it out alive even if I couldn't. I always knew it was crucial for Harry to live, of course, because defeating Voldemort wasn't possible without Harry. And it was essential that Hermione survive as well, because Harry wasn't likely to succeed if he didn't have Hermione's smarts to guide him. Me, I always reckoned I came in handy, but I had a gut feeling that I was there mainly to look after the other two, to help them figure out the magical world since neither of them were raised in it, and to put myself between them and the enemy if it came to that. That makes me sound braver than I really was — I didn't *want* to die, but I knew I might have to, and I could force myself to live with it only if I thought about what the future would be like for my friends and family without Voldemort.

I bring this up only to say that I've had practice when it comes to looking out for Hermione, and I reckon all the risks we took to survive the war would be wasted if she didn't end up doing all the jaw-dropping things she's capable of doing. I honestly think Hermione could wind up as Minister for Magic someday, Hugh — though that depends on if she really wanted to go that route. I'm not sure politics would really make her happy — she's a truth-teller at heart. The point is, she can do any ruddy thing she sets her mind to. I wouldn't want to let anything stand in the way of that.

I hope I've answered your question, sir. I'm ready to answer any others you may have.

Welcome back to Britain…

Ron.

P.S. — I didn't know you were serious about chess, too. Honestly, sir, I've never read a chess book in my life, but I'm willing to start. I'll pick up Lasker as soon as I can. Thanks.

oooOOOooo

30 September 1998
Sedley Taylor Road
Cambridge

Ron,

I'm sorry for the delay in responding to your last letter. I have to admit it took me a day or two to absorb everything you had to say in it. I know, obviously, that you, Hermione and Harry survived the war, but that doesn't make it any easier to hear how close we came to losing one or all of you. I know it's a bit ridiculous that your stories, even told in retrospect, rattled me so much. But they did — and they do. Hermione has told me a fair bit about the struggle, though I've always been quite sure she's left out major portions of it. I thank you for your honesty about what happened and the dangers you endured — and I know it can't be easy to have to dredge it up just for my sake.

Ron, I wish I could say how much it means to me that you were willing to put yourself in harm's way for my daughter's sake, but I'm afraid there's no way to express it in words.

My daughter is more precious to me than anything, Ron — I suppose I'm like most fathers in that regard — but my circumstances are a bit different in that I had to give her up so early, and to a world I could not be a part of and could never hope to understand. The breach has been painful at times, more painful than I can say. But it helps somehow to know, even after the fact, that you were there with her in the good and the bad times. It's a comfort to know that you'll be there for her in the future as well.

And I do believe you will be there, son, because I have little doubt Hermione will accept your offer. It's obvious that she misses you terribly. My daughter is an intelligent girl, and she also happens to be an excellent judge of character. She will accept your proposal, and her father will be glad of it.

Hugh.

P.S. — Have you picked up Lasker yet? If so, pay special attention to the chapter on opening gambits. I'd like to know your thoughts on leading with the bishop's pawn.

oooOOOooo

2 October 1998
St. Agnes Island

Hugh,

I wish I shared your confidence. I'll try to remember your words when the time comes, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a nervous wreck until I hear Hermione's answer.

I love her, sir, more than I can say. I only hope she'll say yes.

As for tales of the war, I'm willing to tell you anything you need to know — though I'd also understand if there were things you'd rather not know. But before I let you imagine that I spent the last few years rescuing Hermione as if she were some sort of damsel in distress, I should point out that I owe my life to Hermione's quick thinking and amazing bravery several times over. Your daughter is a badass, sir, and you might as well know it. She'd make a hell of an Auror — though, thank Merlin, she never showed much interest. If she had, I'd probably never get a wink of sleep.

And about the divide between the wizarding and the muggle worlds, I hope you know how important you and Mrs. Granger are to Hermione. And what's important to Hermione is important to me. She loves you both, and there's no reason she can't live happily in both worlds.

Finally, yes, I Owled Flourish & Blott's and ordered a copy of Lasker, which landed a few days ago, and yeah, it's smashing. I shouldn't admit this because it'll give you an advantage when we finally play one another — and I hope we will — but I usually like to open with the knight's pawn because it gives me a chance to go deep with my bishop early in the game if I have to. But I'm going to study the knight's moves in Lasker and will see what happens. When we meet across the chessboard, please forget you read this.

I'm heading into a few weeks of heavy field training before my leave, so I might not be able to write as frequently as I have done these past few weeks. But I do like hearing from you, so let's keep writing, yeah?

Ron.

oooOOOooo

A/N — I know I marked this story as "Complete" earlier this week, but I just couldn't resist one reader's request to share the letters between Ron and Hugh. I hope you enjoyed them, GinLoran!

As always, thanks for reading, and please share your thoughts!

Cheers,

Holly.

P.S. — I'm probably going to go back to the drawing board on "A Dream Goes On Forever" next. Angst is a challenge for me — I'm open to your ideas! Meanwhile, if you need another Romione read to occupy your time, why not check out one of my other fics, "One Punch: A History" ? I was looking at traffic stats today and realizing that it hasn't gotten as many reads as some of my other stuff. I'd be honored if you'd check it out!