Reality Check

Ron studied Hermione's hand, which was gripped in his own. Her's was pale and small, and Ron wondered idly how such small hands could be so capable.

A gentle breeze stirred, breaking Ron from his reverie. The day was obscenely beautiful, and with Hermione at his side Ron could almost make himself forget that he was at Fred's funeral.

Almost.

Lee Jordan walked past him, up the narrow aisle to the front of the large gathering. As he passed Ron, he rested his hand on his shoulder for the briefest of moments. The Weasley's had asked Lee to give Fred's eulogy.

As he began to speak Ron heard a great sniffle from his right. He looked, his eyes immediately seeking out George. George, however, stared straight ahead, his eyes dry and his face set.

Ron glanced next at Ginny who was openly crying. Harry had an arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, his own face partially hidden by the castle's shadow. As he watched, Harry sniffled loudly, and Ron realized that it was his best friend that he had heard. It was quite odd. Over the years, Ron had witnessed Harry in varying moods and tempers. He had seen Harry livid, wistful, and sad. He had heard Harry shout, laugh, and panic. He had never, however, in all their years of close friendship, seen Harry cry. He felt as though he were intruding upon a truly intimate moment, and looked away.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered, her face close to his. "Are you…ok?"

Ron smiled a little, although there was really nothing that was funny. He didn't feel ok at all. He didn't feel…anything, well at least nothing at the forefront. At night when he laid in bed, however, he could swear that there was something building on the edges of himself. As he stared at the dark, slanted ceiling of his bedroom, his mind filled with thoughts of Fred, Remus, Tonks, and all the others who had died, something white-hot and terrible would begin to creep up. In the moments that he was honest with himself, Ron knew it was a matter of time before the shock subsided, and he would have to begin the painful work of facing what had come to pass.

And it would be painful to put Fred in the past.

Ron didn't know how to answer Hermione, so he simply shrugged. Lee's speech was over, and all around him people were climbing to their feet. Ron noticed that his Mum and Dad were not among those standing, and a gap in the crowd allowed him to see why. His mum's face was buried in his father's chest as her whole body convulsed with sobs. His father had his arms wrapped securely around her as tears dripped from his chin and onto her hair. Ron felt his chest tighten and his throat burn.

And then someone was shaking his hand gently and telling him how very sorry they were. And now someone else, and someone else. Ron only nodded, feeling as though he would like nothing better than to flee to the solitude of his own room. He realized with a start that Hermione was no longer by his side, and he turned to find her holding onto Ginny, who, like their mother, was shaking with the strength of her grief. Ron had to rip his eyes away; unable to watch two of the women he loved the most in so much pain.

Ron cast his eyes about, looking for someone whose face wasn't blotchy and swollen. He knew that he should feel just as devastated, and he knew the pain would eventually catch up with him, but at the moment he felt apart from everyone else. It was very lonely.

The crowd shifted once more and Ron noticed a familiar lone figure slipping past Hagrid's Hut and into the forest. He glanced around and followed as discreetly as he could.

Ron found Percy perched on a log, shredding a leaf between his fingers.

"Oh, hello Ron," Percy said, tossing aside the leaf.

"Hey," Ron said loosely. After over a year of not talking to Percy, Ron wasn't sure what to say to him.

"It…it was a good speech Lee gave, huh?" Asked Percy awkwardly.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged, scuffing his new dress shoes against a tree root. "I didn't hear a word of it."

"Yeah, me as well."

They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Ron studied Percy's face, surprised by how much he had changed during their estrangement. Ron wondered if he looked different as well.

"Ron…I…I know I haven't been around…I was an ass, really. But I'm here now…and I want you to know that. I'm here…if you need anything."

"You're here?" Ron demanded after another brief silence. "You…you're here? Perce, where the fuck were you before? Where have you been for the last two years? You know, when we were all battling Death Eaters and Voldemort at Hogwarts. Where were you when Bill got married? Where the hell were you when Hermione was being tortured, and we were dueling with Bellatrix fucking Lestrange?"

"I..I…" Percy gulped, his face draining of all color. The rational part of Ron's brain noted how very haunted his eyes looked.

"You know what? If I can make it through the last two years without you, I can sure as hell get along without you now, so just sod off!"

Ron turned and stormed out of the forest, his blood pounding in his ears. He didn't know where his anger had come from, but he certainly wasn't sorry for it. Percy had pitted himself against his own family, and now he thought he could just come waltzing back like nothing had changed? Ron kicked a rock as hard as he could, and cringed as the pain blossomed in his foot.

"Ron?" Hermione's soft call was like a bucket of ice water to his hot temper. She sounded so sad.

"Here," Ron called back, emerging from the forest. "I'm here."

"Why were you in the forest?" she asked, her eyes soft and blood-shot. "You know they haven't caught all the Death Eaters yet."

"I…I just had to get away," Ron shrugged. Hermione took his hand and nodded.

"My parents and I are leaving," she said softly. The evening after the Final Battle, he and Harry had accompanied Hermione to retrieve her parents from Australia. They had been angry and hurt, but in the end their love for their daughter had overcome both, although as Hermione liked to remind him, "They still had a long way to go."

Ron only nodded and studied her face: She looked exhausted.

"I'll stay at The Burrow tonight if you want," she offered, her eyes full of concern.

"No, it's ok," Ron assured her quickly. "Your parents need you, and you haven't seen them in a year."

"Yeah, but they would understand. You just buried your brother."

"Really," insisted Ron. "It's alright. Go home with your parents."

"Ok," Hermione nodded somewhat reluctantly. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed Ron gently on the cheek. He watched her make her way back to the mass of people, and could just make out Hugo Granger who stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her.

Unable to think of an excuse to stay away, Ron made his way back to the gathering, his eyes scanning the crowd for Harry.

He found him with Charlie, Bill, George, Lee, Seamus, Dean and Neville. They stood in a circle laughing sadly over a story Lee had just told about Fred. Both George and Bill shamelessly wiped away tears.

"Oy, where were you?" Charlie demanded, pulling Ron into the circle.

"Just took a little walk," Ron said evasively.

"I can't take any more of this," George announced hoarsely. "I…I need a drink."

"Three Broomsticks?" Seamus asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "Let's hit the Hogshead."

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "Less of a crowd. "

"Tired of your fame already, aye Neville?" Dean teased. Neville blushed and ducked his head.

"No one mention where we're going once we get near the gates," Bill warned. "Bloody reporters will follow us. Dad said they've been camping outside The Burrow day and night."

"Well let's get a move on then," said Ron, a part of his mind he couldn't control wondering where Percy now was.

They arrived at the Hogshead ten minutes later and found it as it always was: blissfully empty, save for a few seedy looking characters.

"Alright boys?" Aberforth greeted roughly. He was dressed in clean, albeit worn, navy blue dress robes. He had been in attendance at Fred's funeral.

"Hello Aberforth," said Harry as he approached the bar. "Can we have a bottle of Firewhisky please?"

Aberforth pulled out a blood-red bottle from beneath the bar and placed it on the counter. "On the house," he said. "In honor of Fred."

"Cheers," Bill called from the table they had taken in the corner.

Harry levitated seven small glasses to the table, and each young man caught their own.

"To Fred," Bill said solemnly, holding up his own glass of the red liquid. "Who will never be forgotten."

"To Fred," they all echoed.

Ron tried not to grimace as the whiskey sizzled its way down his throat. After a moment it warmed his chest. It was a feeling Ron rather liked.

"Remember when Fred turned your teddy into a spider, Ron?" Charlie demanded, his smile wide.

"Yes, the sodding prat," Ron laughed. "I still hate spiders to this day."

"Do you remember when Fred caught you doing some midnight swimming in the pond with Susan Chambers?" Bill demanded of Charlie as he re-filled their glasses. "Blackmailed you for a bloody month before you broke down and told Mum yourself."

"Yeah," Charlie grinned. "My bum's never been quite the same since. It was worth it though."

"When I was a first year, Fred stopped some fifth year Slytherins picking on me," Neville contributed timidly. "He walked me to the Common Room every day after dinner for the rest of the week. They didn't bother me again after that."

"To Fred!" George choked, holding his glass aloft.

"To Fred," they echoed once again.

Three hours later, Ron looked around the table at the faces of his brothers and friends as he held his glass with an unsteady hand. They were working their way through a second bottle of Firewhiskey, and Aberforth had even come to sit with them to share a story of how Fred had conned him into serving Lee, George, and himself alcohol.

Now, however, the Firewhiskey was claiming victims, and Harry sat with his head resting on the table, one of its first casualties. Ron felt strangely proud that he could hold his liquor better than his best friend.

"You've been so quiet Ron," Bill said, wrapping an arm around his little brothers' shoulders. "Off in your own world for the past week and a half. What's going on in that head o'yours?"

"Don't know," Ron shrugged. "I don't feel like any of it's real. I don't feel…anything." Charlie reached across Bill and punched Ron squarely in the chest.

"There! Did you feel that?" he laughed.

"Charlie, you ass," Bill scolded with a smile. Ron laughed and rubbed his chest. He looked around at his brothers, and felt something tighten in his chest. Bill was the leader, the cool one. As the eldest, they had all always looked to him for advice and assurance. Charlie had followed closely on his heels. He was the athlete and the daredevil. Then there was…well, Percy. Sod Percy, Ron thought, shaking his head. Then there had been Fred. Fred who was the eternal jokester. Fred, who was loyal and good. Fred who had taught him to ride a broom and had helped him with Hermione. For the first time, Ron understood that Fred would not be coming back.

He stood abruptly. It was no good. The burning in his throat had turned into pressure behind his eyes, and Ron knew the thing he had been running from had caught up with him at last. He turned and fled the dim pub, the shouts of his brothers and friends barely making their way through the grief that was quickly overtaking him.

He pushed through the door and into the cool night. Almost immediately there was a bright flash of light and a thick plume of purple smoke.

"Mr. Weasley!" An unfamiliar voice said excitedly. "Mr. Weasley, how do you feel now that your brother's been buried?"

"Weasley? Someone's got a Weasley up there!" Ron heard someone shout excitedly from up the road.

"Mr. Weasley? Ronald? How is Harry Potter coping now that You-Know-Who is really dead?"

Within moments Ron found himself surrounded by a gaggle of aggressive reporters, each aiming rapid-fire questions at him. He had to get away, so he closed his eyes and apparated to the first place that came to mind.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Hermione exclaimed a moment later. One hand held her wand, the tip aimed at Ron's chest, while the other clutched at her chest. "I could have killed you!"

"Sorry," Ron choked, feeling as though the world were spinning around him. "There were reporters, and I didn't know where else to go…" he trailed off and hung his head. Hermione pushed herself up from the small chair where she had been reading, and went to Ron.

"That's ok, you just startled me," she said. She drew very close, so that she was standing right in front of him. Ron reached out and pulled her against his chest and buried his face in her unruly hair. "Where were you?"

"The Hogs Head," he said without looking up. Hermione only nodded, her arms wrapped firmly around Ron's waist. "I…I never thought I would have to bury one of my brothers," Ron choked, the last of his resolve beginning to crumble. "I always knew that it could be one of us."

At long last the reality of the loss hit Ron full in the face. He sucked in a deep breath, but it was no use. A great sob escaped in a howl-like cry, and then the tears came in earnest. He was suddenly curled on the floor with his head resting in Hermione's lap, but he could not recall how he got there. She stroked his hair and whispered words of comfort, as her own warm tears streamed down her face.

The door opened a fraction and Mrs. Granger poked her head in. Upon seeing Ron's distress she nodded silently at Hermione and backed out of the room, shutting the door quietly.

Ron was not sure how long he cried, he had lost all sense of time. At long last, however, he seemed to be out of tears and was left only with an empty feeling in his chest. He pushed himself up slowly and grimaced awkwardly at Hermione, trying to keep a blush from creeping into his face.

"Hermione, I-"

"Don't apologize," Hermione cut him off. "It's…to be expected."

Ron studied her closely. She was still painfully thin, after their year of near-starvation, and she had deep blue circles under her eyes. That coupled with the fact that her hair was frizzing all over her shoulders made her quite an endearing sight.

"I love you, Hermione," he said without planning to. Hermione's eyes widened to the size of saucers before her mouth curved in a radiant smile.

"You do?" She asked at a whisper.

Ron felt as though his courage had deserted him, and could only manage a nod.

"I love you too," she said. Ron smiled despite the fact that his eyes were swollen and heavy, and despite the fact that a much-loved brother was gone forever. Hermione loved him, and that had always seemed so unlikely.

He reached forward and touched her face gently, reveling in the softness of her skin. Hermione's eyes were riveted on him, as though she still couldn't believe that it was all actually happening. Ron leaned in slowly and when there lips met, his eyes slid closed of their own accord. Ron kissed her with all the gentleness he possessed, trying to somehow soothe all of the heartache they were facing, if only for a moment.

When they at last broke apart, it was to find that the morning sun had broken over the horizon and was shinning brightly into Hermione's room.

"The sun's risen," Ron observed softly.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "It's a new day."

XXXXXXXXXX

Curses whizzed by his head, some coming so close they singed his hair. All around him people were falling and writhing in pain. From across the room a glint of brilliant red hair caught his attention; Ginny. She, along with Hermione and Luna, were dueling Bellatrix. Gunny's face was creased with the hard lines of total concentration, as she threw and dodged curses in turn. And then a vicious flash of green blossomed from the tip of Bellatrix's wand, and Harry watched as it soared straight for Ginny's head. He opened his mouth to scream a warning but no sound would come. He watched in complete horror as the horrible green passed through her. Her face was blank and empty as her body collapsed into a lifeless heap.

"GINNY!" Harry screamed, his heart pounding as tears streaked down his face.

"Alright, Harry, you're alright!" assured the booming voice of…Hagrid?

Harry looked around and found that he was, indeed, tangled in the handmade quilts of the Gamekeepers bed.

"You were having a nightmare is all," Hagrid soothed, thumping Harry roughly on the back.

Right. The war was over and Ginny was safe. Ginny's safe, Harry repeated to himself. He looked at Hagrid's large form silhouetted against the window, and winced. His head felt as though it had been trampled by a herd of stampeding hippogriffs.

"Morning Hagrid," Harry managed.

"Ah, it ain't been morning for a couple o' hours, Harry," Hagrid informed him, putting a kettle on for tea.

"How…how did I get here?" Harry asked feeling completely foolish for not knowing.

"Bill an Charlie brought you by last night. You were in no fit state to apparate, and they weren't going back to The Burrow. They said you needed a place to sleep it off without the whole world knowing you got pissed. Bloody reporters."

"Ah," said Harry. "Thanks Hagrid. I hope I wasn't too much of a bother."

"No, no." Hagrid said, waving him off. "Slept the whole time, you did."

"Well, I better go," Harry said, pushing himself out of Hagrid's bed. His dream was still fresh in his mind, and he wanted nothing more than to see with his own eyes that Ginny was indeed alright.

"Won't stay for tea, then?" Hagrid asked, motioning to an oversized cup.

"Sorry, Hagrid," Harry said sincerely. "But I'll be by for a visit again soon."

"I'll hold you to it, then," Hagrid agreed.

Fifteen minutes later Harry stood outside The Burrow, looking up at its crooked form. He wondered fleetingly if he would ever have a home just as cozy.

"Hello Harry," a familiar voice sounded, startling him from his reverie. Kingsley Shacklebolt was ambling up the dirt drive, his baldhead glinting in the sunlight.

"Hello Kings…I mean Minister."

"How are the Weasleys?" he asked, his voice even lower than usual.

Harry's stomach twisted guiltily. "I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't seen them since the funeral."

"Ah," said Kingsley. "Well, I hate to do it, but I am in desperate need of Arthur's help. Come to think of it, Harry, I was wanting a word with you, Ron, and Hermione as well."

"About what?" Harry asked bluntly, his curiosity peaked.

"Well, I'm afraid I need to hear the whole story about Snape again, and if possible, obtain the memories he gave you to archive in the Ministry." Kingsley shifted his feet uncomfortably, and Harry was amazed to realize that he was nervous about something. "Also," he continued in his deep, reassuring voice. "Look Harry, I know the three of you have been through more than any eighteen year olds should, but I'm afraid I need to ask for more assistance. If we can schedule a time to sit down and talk, I can elaborate."

"Sure," Harry shrugged. He trusted Kingsley, and he didn't mind helping where he could. He was confident that Ron and Hermione would feel the same. "Just send us word about when and where, and Ron, Hermione, and I will be there."

"Thank you," said Kingsley with an easy smile.

"I though I heard voices," Ginny said, popping her head out the kitchen door.

"Hey Gin," Harry said as something settled peacefully into place upon seeing her.

"Kingsley?" Mrs. Weasley said surprised as they stepped into the kitchen. "Hello. How are you? Can I fix you a sandwich?"

"No, thank you, Molly. I actually just needed to speak to Arthur if he's up for it."

"Of course, let me just run and get him."

Harry watched Mrs. Weasley bustle out of the kitchen, and was pleasantly surprised to note that she looked much better than she had the evening prior. Her eyes were still swollen, but she was smartly dressed and there was a pot on the stove emanating a heavenly smell.

Ginny, on the other hand, looked exhausted. She was wearing her well-worn housecoat, and her glorious hair was tied in a haphazard knot atop her head. She sat at the kitchen table staring down into her soup with glassy eyes.

"How are you, Gin?" Harry asked quietly, taking the seat next to her. She shrugged halfheartedly, without lifting her eyes. Harry longed to hold her, but with Kingsley in the room he didn't feel comfortable to.

Seeming to sense his mood, Kingsley excused himself to the small sitting room, and Harry immediately wrapped his arms around Ginny's shoulders. She seemed to relax a bit, and let a long breath as though she had been holding it in for hours.

"I feel like crying," she whispered dully. "But I don't think I have any more tears."

"It'll get better," Harry said, not sure it was the right thing.

"Will it?" she asked, almost desperately.

"Yeah," Harry assured.

"I love you, Harry," she said so softly Harry wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly. "I always have."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, and immediately wished he could take the words back. Ginny only laughed.

"Only you would ask that," she said. "Of course I'm sure."

"Oh."

Harry felt as though a balloon were swelling inside of him. No one had ever said they loved him before…at least not that he could remember. He suddenly felt incredibly small and wondered how he could possibly deserve such a gift.

"When Voldemort was about to kill me, your face came into my mind. My last thought was of you, Ginny."

Ginny's head snapped up, her brown eyes as wide and shocked.

"I swear," Harry said, in answer to her unspoken disbelief. "I love you too."

She was in his arms again in moments, each clinging to the other. Harry was vaguely aware of someone entering the kitchen, and then quickly passing through. He no longer cared who saw them. They loved each other, and that certainly wasn't any thing to be ashamed of.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself tucked neatly into her bed, the shades drawn down over her windows. In spite of all the loss, Hermione could not fight the smile that was stealing over her face. After years of unfulfilled dreams, Ron Weasley was finally and truly hers. She felt giddy, and was slightly horrified when a high-pitched giggle escaped her lips.

Honestly, she was becoming worse than Lavender.

"Hermione?" her mother called from just outside her door.

"Come in, Mum." She called back.

Mrs. Granger pushed through the door, her eyes automatically scanning the room for Ron.

"He went home hours ago," Hermione explained, sitting up in bed.

"Was he feeling any better?"

"A little, I think."

"It's going to take time," said Mrs. Granger knowledgeably. "It took years when I lost Gran and Grandpa."

"I still can't believe it," Hermione said, Fred's face flashing into her mind. "Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Remus, and Tonks. They were all awful. But Fred?" Hermione shook her head and drew a ragged breath. She was on the verge of tears again. "He was just so young. Only 20."

"Oh Darling," sighed Mrs. Weasley. She pulled Hermione to her and stroked her hair. "It is awful. I can't imagine what Molly and Arthur must be feeling. For something so terrible to happen to such a lovely family."

"They are lovely, Mum," said Hermione, pushing herself up to look into her mother's eyes. "They could never replace you and dad, but they're so good to me. They treat me like I'm one of their own."

"And for that they will always have my gratitude." Mrs. Granger smiled softly and cupped Hermione's face with her hand. "I can imagine this was a very rough year for you. You still haven't told me everything."

"There's so much to tell, Mum. I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, I think you've had enough tears for one day, so why don't you start with something happy…like Ron maybe."

"What?" Hermione asked, staring at her mother in astonishment. "Mum, how did you know?"

"Oh Hermione," her mother laughed. "I don't need magic to recognize love when I see it."

"I didn't realize I was so obvious," muttered Hermione, feeling heat rush up her neck to her face.

"Perhaps not to everyone, but it was never a mystery to me and your father."

"Dad knows?" Hermione closed her eyes. Her father had nearly gone spare when she had written home to tell them that she was going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum her Fourth Year, and that had been quite innocent. She couldn't imagine what he must think now that he knew she was in love. "What did he say?"

"That he can't believe how quickly you've grown up." Her mother smiled nostalgically and tucked a wayward curl behind Hermione's ear. "We're quite proud of you, dear."

Hermione's eyes began to tear again as her mother looked at her with such unconcealed emotion. Her time at Hogwarts had limited the amount of time they had for such conversations. Hermione drank in her words thirstily. She needed to know that her parents were proud of her. She needed to know that they saw her magic as a gift and not a deformity. She needed to know that they had forgiven her.

"You're proud of me?" Hermione cringed at the vulnerability in her voice.

"Oh Darling, surely you knew that?"

Hermione shook her head and it was her mother's turn to tear up.

"Well then shame on me and your father too. We should have told you…long ago."

"I was never sure what you thought about my magic. Everything seemed to always happen so quickly. It's like one day Dumbledore was here, and the next I was on the Hogwarts Express. Then I only ever saw you on holiday."

"It was difficult," Mrs. Granger admitted. "We always knew there was more to you than the average child. Once when you were two, you were throwing the worst tantrum and Gran's vase exploded. Things like that always happened. When you were happy, when you were sad. You father and I worried over you for years. Then Dumbledore showed up at our door, and he had answers we weren't sure we would ever find."

Hermione laughed despite herself, and her mother looked at her in surprise.

"What?" she demanded.

"I frightened you!" She laughed.

"Well…yes I suppose you did," her mother shrugged. "Although it wasn't so much you as what you would cause to happen."

Hermione nodded. She, like all muggle borns she supposed, had incidents early on that they could not explain. Hermione, after having been teased ruthlessly in primary school, had made her tormenter's face erupt in severe boils. She had only been nine.

"Well I guess I don't blame you," Hermione smiled.

"It was hard though, letting you go. Like surrendering you to the unknown."

"It was a leap of faith," Hermione whispered.

"Exactly," her mother agreed. "But when you came home we knew we had made the right decision. You were happy, and you had made friends…good friends."

"The best," Hermione agreed.

"I'm sorry we never said it before, Hermione, but we are proud of you and everything you are."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Now," her mother smiled. "About Ronald Weasley…"

Hermione laughed and found she couldn't wait to tell her mother all about Ron.