Tangled

by Rsuth

I'm sorry this took me so long to finish, but here it is, and it's a long 8000+ word chapter. If you haven't read this story in a while, you might want to go back and reread it because this epilogue ties back into events that happened previously in the story. I really hope you all like it; I feel as though this completes the story the way I saw it.

Oh, you'll notice that the rating on this story was raised to 'M'. This chapter does have adult content. If you would like me to post a cleaner version on fanfiction of this story, and this chapter in particular, let me know.

I'd love to know what you all think of the last chapter, don't forget to leave a review.

EPILOGUE

8 years later….

Hermione sighed as she sank down on their old, comfy couch, donated to their apartment by Bill after the small family had moved away from the comfort of the old cottage. With their first child a rambling toddler, and a new baby on the way, Bill and Fleur had desired to be closer to the Burrow for the time being, to the delight of Molly and Arthur.

She reached for the steaming cup of tea she had placed on the coffee table, but her hand never reached its target as her eyes fell on a large package, wrapped in brown paper and twine, with her name written beautifully on the top. She must have missed it earlier, stacked among her many textbooks on the too-small table. Her new owl must have dropped it there; the quirky black bird was always doing strange things, but she loved him anyways.

Could this be it? Was it finally here? With reverence, Hermione grabbed the package and slowly lowered it to her lap, fingers shaking slightly as she unknotted the string. It had finally come…all the time and research she had done, and it was finally here.

Too quickly for such an important moment, the paper was falling away and the thick, leather-bound volume was in her hands. The smell of new paper and heavy ink reached her nose, and she smiled as she turned the volume around so she could read the title properly:

A Study of the Neurological Damage and Manifestations of the Cruciatus Curse in Witches and Wizards

And Research Discoveries of its Cure

By Hermione J. Granger

Carefully she opened the front cover of her book, listening to the new spine crack quietly, and flipped quickly to the second page where she had left a short inscription.

To Ron, who pulled me out of the dark.

She smiled as she remembered confessing to Harry how nervous she was about publishing such a personal inscription in a research text when he had visited one day, just a few short months ago. Although she had just finished writing the rough copy of the book, the inscription was what was worrying her the most. Harry had laughed gently at her irrationality, poured them both a glass of red wine, and toasted her having finished writing her book. By the time Ron had come home they had both finished a second glass, which Ron topped up again when he heard that Hermione had finished writing. He had swept her into his arms and spun her around as she shrieked at him to let her down, and she just knew at that moment that it was the perfect inscription. Harry was right when he had told her earlier that although it was a research book, everyone in the Wizarding world knew her story, knew about her research on the Cruciatus, and that it was fitting. To this day, Ron still didn't know anything about the inscription, she had left it a surprise.

She gently stroked her fingers down the page, remembering just how true those words were: To Ron, who pulled me out of the dark.

Even after she had woken up after her torture some eight years ago there had been some uncertain moments in her recovery, which was long, drawn-out, and marred with some set-backs. She was impatient by nature, and being too weak and tired to walk around on her own for almost a month had made her a bit short and irritable with the situation. Also, her memory had been a bit blurry for weeks after her torture, with moments of clarity followed by confusion, but it had eventually strengthened again as her body did. Harry and Ron had been surprisingly patient with her, helping her around, not reacting when she was in a bad mood, reassuring her that she would get back to normal. For the first time in her life she had finally let herself fully rely on someone else during her recovery, a hard thing to do when you're used to being independent and in charge.

The three of them had soon started plotting their plan of attack to find the next Horcrux as she started to recover, the two boys sitting hunched beside her bed each day as they poured through her books and some that Bill smuggled in for them, whispering their plans behind closed doors. She had often dozed off throughout their planning, waking to find the boys where they had been before she fell asleep.

Weeks later, she had convinced them that she felt well enough to leave (which had been a very well-constructed lie), and later that day they had broken into Gringott's and found the next Horcrux. The Final Battle had happened soon afterwards, and it wasn't until the day after the Battle that the strain on the previous few days on her partially healed body had caught up to her, and she collapsed in front of the entire Weasley family and the remaining members of the Order (or so Ron said, she still didn't remember it happening). She had woken up, confused and embarrassed, in St. Mungo's days later. Harry and Ron had both scorned her for being dishonest with them, and she had let them, but secretly she knew that she would not have done anything differently if given a chance.

After the War had officially ended, and the clean-up and rebuilding of the Wizarding world had begun, she often found her mind drifting back to her ordeal and recovery from the Cruciatus. No one aside from the occupants of Shell Cottage and the hospital staff knew what had happened to her even after her stay in the hospital, and she was hesitant to reveal that she had recovered from a situation that others had not been able. Especially when she wasn't sure how she even did it.

As soon as London was safe for wizards again, St. Mungo's was soon full of Cruciatus patients, whose symptoms ranged from being comatose, to awake but mentally altered. Hermione had seen the overflowing "incurable" ward, and her heart went out to them. She suddenly knew that she had to do something to help them, that she possibly possessed the key to their recovery. She just needed to figure out what that key was.

She had soon after gone to Bill, borrowing the notes he had written during her long stay at Shell Cottage, which documented his observations of her condition and recovery. She referenced both muggle and wizarding medical books and theoretical papers on the Unforgivables. She talked to former classmates who had regularly experienced the Cruciatus at the hands of the Carrows. She talked to Madame Pomfrey and a few close colleagues of the matron who could be trusted to keep Hermione's interviews a secret. At the end of her personal research, and at the advice of Madame Pomfrey, Hermione knew there was only one path ahead of her. She needed to study healer and medical training in school and continue her research. She needed to understand why she had recovered from her torture when no one else had.

That September, she was accepted to enter Healer training at St. Mungo's. The enrolment officers had waved off her lack of completed N.E.W.T.'s due to her former teachers' recommendations, previous high marks, and her fame in the wizarding world. She had scoffed at the latter reason, but Ron and Harry had reassured her that even without her fame she would have been accepted anyways. She was Hermione Granger, Ron had told her with firm and unwavering confidence, or course they would want her, even if she hadn't helped to save the world.

Her training at St. Mungo's was intense but she had thrived on it, and spent a majority of her days either completing her field placement hours in the incurable ward, or in the beautiful old school attached to the hospital. Ron and Harry often jokingly complained about the amount of time she spent at the Hospital, and frequently told her that she should just turn one of the patient rooms into an apartment. She always retaliated by primly reminding them that if she did that, no one would be around to make sure they would be fed and clothed properly. She knew they truly didn't mind, though. As always, they were proud of her studies and supported her. Ron in particular was proud of her, and made their limited time together count. She could almost blush when she thought back to those early days of their relationship, they really hadn't held back after the War. Noone really had, and a good number of her former classmates had married quite young and had their own families now. Harry and Ginny were part of that group, with little James turning 3 next month.

Early on in her training at St. Mungo's she became close enough to one of her supervising Healers, Healer Davis, to confide to him the real reason she had signed up for Healer training and requested placement in the 'incurable' ward. He had listened to her story, intrigued by her experience and research, and later proposed that she work on research specific to the Cruciatus. This was generally unheard of for a Healer-in-training, but with the support of the respected Healer Davis, she was given permission to do her research as long as Davis would be her mentor.

Over the next two years Hermione worked hard in researching the Cruciatus, even visiting renowned Healers and hospitals overseas to study their patients and hear staff theories. Slowly her stack of research grew and grew, and she worked on developing a theory to test on patients. Her theory on what could cure the effects of the Cruciatus was not simple, however. It was more than just the dark magic, which she did clarify attached itself to the affected person's magical core. What she did not expect to find was that the dark magic could also attach itself to the brain's neurological processes after extensive exposure, which explained the mental state of some patients even after their magical core and physical state was restored.

When she did present her final research theories to Healer Davis, and a proposal for testing on real affected subjects, the elder man simply stared at her after he had read them through. She remembered nervously fidgeting in her chair, sure that this meant it was a terribly theory. But Davis simply stood up, took two glasses out of the cupboard in his office, and poured them both a glass of firewhisky. She had only continued to stare at him until he spoke.

"Hermione…even if your theories on the magic behind the cure do not work, you've made a remarkable breakthrough on why some patients become comatose or mentally unstable. Hermione, I never…I never thought I'd see any advances in this field in my lifetime."

She had been stunned at his words, but happy with the praise. It had all become obvious to her with the more research she had done. The following year, Healer Davis had convinced the Hospital board to let her start performing test trials on Cruciatus patients. They had grudgingly agreed, and Davis told her later on that it was only their fear of ignoring a potential breakthrough in research that allowed her to start on testing.

In order to start her testing, however, Hermione needed to secure the complete agreement from families of potential test subjects as they could not speak for themselves. Neville Longbottom, who had heard about her testing from Ron and Harry, had been the first to sign up his parents. You can't make them any worse than they are, Neville had reassured her when she protested using them as first test subjects. So the Longbottoms, along with a few other far-gone patients from the incurable ward, had been her first.

The process of trying to remove dark magic from a person's brain was not easy; the curse was present in many functions of the brain, namely memory and motor function. The curse was like a sucker , living as long as it had something to feed on It wound itself in tightly, and a healer needed to find those small tendrils of the curse through a form of legillimency and perform heavy, draining magic to unwind it and banish it. Hermione had to adapt to the high degree of magic it took to perform to procedure; countless times she woke up in a hospital bed herself, with Ron sitting faithfully beside her. He never scolded her much for putting herself through such strain; he understood how important it was. And eventually, her magic and mental and physical strength grew to accommodate the necessary strain and she was able to perform longer procedures without losing consciousness.

It was months before she got the complete hang of performing the procedures, and she got frustrated when she didn't see much change in her patients. Until one day, another healer-in-training woke her up in the break room, telling her that Healer Davis needed her in the 'incurable' ward immediately. Hermione was wide awake instantly, terrified that something had gone wrong in her procedures. She bolted up the stairs and through the ward, stopping just inside the door as everything seemed to quiet and calm

"Over here, Hermione," the quiet voice of Davis called out to her, and she followed it to the screen at the end of the room, which gave privacy to the Longbottom's beds. Alice Longbottom was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at her hands. The older woman suddenly looked up, focusing right on Hermione's face, a first in all of their time together. "Do I know you?" she rasped out, "You look kind of familiar, but I don't know why."

Hermione gaped at Alice, her mind racing in a million directions, before she forced herself to answer. "Yes…we've met a little…here at the hospital." Alice simply nodded and looked back down at her hands. Healer Davis had pulled her out into the hall after, telling her that he was sure that she was close, that a few more procedures might do it for the Longbottom's. She had nodded numbly and run to get her notebook, eager to write down her first positive feedback.

About a month later, Alice Longbottom had regained full possession of her previous mental and physical faculties. Her memory was not quite there but she knew who she was, where she was, what had happened to her, and that she had a son. That's not to say that things were perfect right away. She had lost years of her life, but with continuing therapy had made good progress to living her own life. It had taken Frank Longbottom a few months longer than his wife, but he made it as well. Hermione could still feel tears come to her eyes as she remembered how Neville had broken down when he talked to his mum for the first time. He had come to find her in the hospital later that day and cried onto her shoulder as he thanked her over and over.

It was a good start, and slowly the other patients began responding to Hermione's treatment as well. It was Ron who first suggested that she write a book on her research, that it needed to be shared with the world. And after thinking about it, she realized he was right. She started writing the book the next day.

Hermione smiled as she twisted the elegant and understated ring on her left hand. Her wedding to Ron had happened just over a year ago. They had held off getting married for a while, enjoying their time together and not worrying about making it a legal matter. They had both known the wedding would happen eventually, but it wasn't in either of their natures to rush into anything. It had taken them years to even just admit openly that they liked each other. Their slow move to the altar had irked Molly to no end for a while, but eventually she let it go at the urging of her family. Let them enjoy the remainder of their youth, Arthur had told his wife on a number of occasions, they deserve that at least.

The simple garden wedding had happened after she graduated from Healer training, which had been her agreement with Ron. Her parents had flown back from Australia for the occasion, and the Weasley family and their close friends filled the rest of the seats for the quiet ceremony. The reception was a different matter, however, and everyone who knew them seemed to be at the wild party in the field behind the burrow. The wine and liquor flowed steadily all evening, and no one even noticed when the couple snuck away to consummate their marriage in the moonlight, far away from the party, the waist-tall grass ruffling around them in the warm, sweet breeze. Ron had held her to his bare chest after, and told her he loved her as they stared up at the impossibly bright stars in the sky. When they eventually returned the party had died down, and most of the guests were already sleeping off the night's festivities in the sea of tents pitched in the yard. Harry and Ginny had given them a knowing look, and laughed at their somewhat disheveled state as Harry reached out to pull some pieces of long grass out of her disheveled updo. They had exchanged tight hugs and parted, Ron quickly grabbing surprisingly untouched bottles of champagne and red wine from a table and apparating them home to continue their own private celebration.

The door to their apartment swooshed open and shut, and Hermione realized she had been daydreaming for quite some time, her hand still placed over the inscription. She shook her head to clear it, and carefully shut the book again.

"Hermione, are you home?" came Ron's muffled call from the other side of the apartment. She heard the familiar sounds of him kicking off his shoes and dropping his heavy bag at the door.

"In here!" she called back, feeling nervous and excited with anticipation of showing Ron her published book. She could hear him walk into the kitchen and the clinking of mugs in the cupboard. The familiar sounds of the kettle heating on the stove reached her ears. All she could do was sit and clutch the book to her.

"Sorry I'm late, I stopped over to see Harry, he went home early today because Ginny's been sick, and Jamie was being a handful. Oh! And, he's learned his first swear-word; I kid you not, the kid can say the word "bullocks" perfectly! Harry swears the kid didn't learn it from him, but Ginny's pretty mad. When she decided to start blaming me for it, I got out of there as fast as I could! Harry looked a bit murderous when I ran out the door, but I'm not taking the blame for this, that kid's a parrot! Was pretty hilarious, if you ask me."

Hermione smiled as she listened to Ron's story unfold from the kitchen; in some ways, he had changed completely from the 18-year-old who had carried her across the beach on that fated day, but in different ways he was still the same boy. She loved him for this.

Like her, Ron had found inspiration for his future career in the events that unraveled around her torture. Ron vowed never to be helpless in a dangerous situation again, and soon enrolled for Auror training. Hermione sometimes wondered if he felt it was something he needed to do to erase those moments of the past, the fear and helplessness they felt during the War, but then questioned whether it was a bad thing. Wasn't that essentially what she was trying to do herself?

She couldn't complain too much about his career choice, though, because it often brought them into contact during the workday. All aurors now had to take part in her mandatory muggle medical training course at St. Mungo's, starting two years ago, as part of their field training. Hermione had pushed the importance of basic first aid to the hospital, and eventually they let her develop and present the mandatory course to all workers in the medical, law enforcement, and education field, and any other employees in precarious workplaces. Without a wand or potions, all wizards and witches were helpless in the case of an injury, she had proclaimed to the Hospital board. They had soon passed the motion. As Ron always said, trying to resist the force of Hermione Granger was like a rock trying to stop a river; eventually it would just get worn down and relent.

Ron had supported her through this campaign, having realized the importance of muggle knowledge in dangerous situations, and was instrumental in gathering the support of the Auror department behind her. He also took part in her very first course along with his close colleagues, which helped boost her confidence as the course was under close scrutiny by the Hospital Board and the public. She remembered that Ron had watched her intensely throughout the whole class, and was on her as soon as they walked in the door together each night, eager for her to take control of that too. She hadn't objected, and still distinctly remembered Harry laughing for no apparent reason during a visit the following week. She soon found out that Ron had confessed to Harry about their evening antics after class. She had been embarrassed, but Ron had made the point that Harry's world had shrunk a lot since the birth of their son, and he needed a good story occasionally. He had cooked her a delicious dinner that night as an apology, and she suddenly realized that she had forgotten about that week until now.

"What are you smiling so foolishly about?" Ron interrupted her musings, placing down two cups of steaming tea on the free corner of the table. "Have you been reading that new book about Hogwarts? Looks like you forgot your tea from earlier, again" her husband chuckled to himself and whisked away her cold mug to the kitchen, returning moments later with a plate of biscuits, already crunching one noisily as he walked. He bent down and quickly pressed a crumby kiss to her cheek, springing away quickly with a cheeky grin, knowing he would be in trouble with that.

When she didn't respond, or even move to smack him, Ron stopped and stared at her seriously. "Hermione, are you okay? Did something happen?" He knelt down in front of her and grasped her shoulders, staring into her eyes.

Wordlessly, Hermione held out the precious book that she had clutched to her stomache and waited as Ron took it out of her hands, turning it to read the title.

"Your book…" he spoke quietly as he ran his fingers over the raised golden title on the cover. "It's finally here, I can't believe it…" Hermione watched closely as he carefully opened it and started flipping slowly through the first pages. He stopped on what she knew was the inscription page and silently stared at it. She couldn't help but hold her breath as she waited for his reaction, closing her eyes as she took a few deep, calming breaths. Suddenly she was pulled forward into Ron's arms and he was grasping her tightly, burrowing his face in her hair and holding her in his lap. Hermione wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers through his soft hair, knowing from his reaction that it had upset him.

"I…I'm sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to upset you…I…I just…" Ron silenced her by kissing her strongly, grasping her face between his hands as he kissed her face and neck. She responded and kissed him back, but let him take control. He was soon lifting her into the air into his arms, grabbed her book, and apparated them both away before she knew what was happening.

When Hermione could see straight from the double apparition, she realized that Ron had apparated them to the beach near Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur had given them free use of the house while they were moved out, though she and Ron hadn't felt much like going back in the past years. It didn't hold good memories for them, and they had declined each time they were invited to visit the Cottage. Bill and Fleur understood, though Bill had still insisted that they have the cottage available to them while the small family was moved out.

The sky above them was cloudy and angry, and a cold rain was falling on them, soaking through their thin shirts. Above her head, Ron stood staring around him at the wet beach and rolling ocean. "Ron, wh-?" Hermione started, but Ron began to stride across the wet sand, ignoring her question, and not letting her down from his arms. She just decided to go with it, feeling distraught emotions radiating from her husband, and lay her head down on his broad shoulder, gripping his shirt with her hand. They reached the alarm barrier around the house, and Ron quickly grabbed his wand out of his back pocket to deactivate it. He ducked inside the short door, taking care not to bump her as he ignored the dusty sitting room, the leftover furniture covered with eerie white sheets, headed up the creaking stairs.

Hermione was suddenly overwhelmed was strong memories: The small party they had held in Dobby's memory after his funeral; the many games of checkers she had played with Bill on the comfy couch, after she had taught him; the time she spent sitting with Fleur in front of the warm fire as they chatted in French, and the girl's delight over Hermione's ability to hold a conversation in her native tongue; Harry and Ron helping her stubbornly and achingly climb up and down those stairs over and over again when she began to feel stronger, trying desperately to regain her strength; once, she had fallen down on the landing when she had tried to sneak her way down, and Ron had been irate as he scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way down; the last night they spent with Bill, Fleur, Dean, Luna, and Mr. Ollivander- they had thrown another party, although the boys had lied and said they wanted to celebrate Hermione feeling better. These memories held both dark and happy memories for her, and she felt tears fall over her cheeks as she remembered.

Suddenly Ron was dipping down and laying her down on something soft. She lay back and took a deep breath, trying to see around her in the darkened room. The windows had been boarded up. Suddenly a flame leapt to life nearby, and Hermione watched as Ron lit an old candle with a flame on the end of his wand, setting it back down on the small bedside table.

Ron sat on the bed beside her and muttered "You're all wet," as he reached down to ease off her shoes and socks, and then sliding off her jeans. He lingered for a while running his hands softly up and down her legs, pressing kisses on her skin. She lay back and let him do this, knowing somehow that he needed this as much as she did at the moment. His lips moved upwards and then he was sliding up her wet shirt to graze against her stomache and ribs. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the sensations, knowing that Ron would take control tonight.

Ron's cold, shaking hands slid up underneath the back of her shirt and he carefully eased it over her head and threw it behind him. His mouth felt between her breasts and he nipped the tender skin there while his hands lifted her enough to unclasp her bra and slide it slowly off her arms, to join her shirt. Ron stopped and looked down at her, his eyes drinking in the curves of her body by candlelight. With a faint glimmer in his eyes he gently and slowly ran his hand from her shoulder down to her knee as she shivered at the sensation. Slowly his hand travelled back up and it dipped and squeezed in places he knew drove her crazy. She reached for him, needing to feel him against her, his weight on her body, but he grabbed her hand and shook his head at her, telling her to wait.

Ron turned the arm he had grasped over and stared down at the shimmering scars on her inner arm. Although the redness of the scars had diminished after a while, the raised rough word could still be seen in the right light. Ron brought his head down and suddenly his lips were on her scar, tracing each letter. Hermione felt hot drips running down her arm but didn't need to look up to know what it was. Ron's lips continued down her arm and suddenly were tracing her breast, sucking her nipple into his hot mouth. She arched up against him and reached again for him, grasping the bottom of his shirt and pulling at it; this time he let her, and she quickly worked at throwing off his shirt, pants, and boxers. Ron moved to lay between her legs as he took her other nipple into his mouth, pulling her legs around him and positioning himself to rub against her. Hermione gasped and closed her eyes as his hardness rubbed against her clit and dipped just slightly inside her. Ron moaned around her nipple, and was suddenly moving down to kneel between her legs. Hermione moaned loudly as Ron's soft lips sucked in her sensitive clit, pressing his tongue down against her in his mouth. The sensation was almost too much, but Ron wouldn't relent, and curled two fingers inside her to rub her firmly. She knew she wouldn't be able to take it for too long, and suddenly she was crying out as she orgasmed hard against him, gripping his hair strongly in her hands as she rode it out.

She finally let go of Ron and lay back, breathing heavy and letting her eyes close for a moment. Ron kissed his way softly up her body and held her face between his hands. "Hermione, look at me," he demanded softly, his face so close to hers. She complied, letting her eyes flutter open to focus on him above her. "I love you, Hermione…I've loved you since before I was willing to accept it….The last time we were in this house, I- I almost lost you, before we even had a chance to have any of this…But…you came back to me, Hermione…I called to you, and you came back to me. No Harry, not Bill, but me, Ron Weasley. Right here, in this bed, you woke up and told me you loved me…" Ron slid himself inside her slowly, both of them gasping softly at the sensation. He kept his hand on her face, staring into her eyes as he stroked himself deeply and deliberately inside her. They were soon both panting, and Ron drove himself in harder as Hermione arched up to meet him, crying out as she could feel her pressure building around him. Finally, the world exploded around her and she gripped Ron to her tightly, feeling his heat burst in her moments later as he shouted out and laid his head down on her shoulder.

After they had lay entwined together for a while, Ron lay down beside her, pulling her so that she lay with her head on his chest. She reached her hand up to lay it on his chest, grasping the coarse hair gently between her fingers. Ron moaned his appreciation, and she smiled. She snuggled herself up closer to him, shivering slightly as her body cooled and the cold air kissed her damn skin. Ron grabbed the other edge of the covers and pulled it up around them, cocooning them together in the warmth. Hermione let her eyes close and she drifted into the comfortable darkness of sleep, feeling as though nothing bad could ever touch her again with Ron wrapped around her.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

An unknown amount of time later, Hermione woke up in the dark. She was wrapped tightly in a blanket and her head was on a soft pillow. She remembered where they were and felt her heart speed up, irrationally. Ron wasn't with her. She tore the blankets off and pushed herself up to sit, not wanting to be alone in this room. Fumbling around she found Ron's large shirt and pulled it over herself, finding comfort in its smell and softness. She found her panties flung over the back of a forgotten chair and pulled them on quickly. She padded to the door and pulled it open, looking quickly in the other rooms for Ron as she headed towards the stairs. At the bottom she stopped to listen. She could hear a familiar banging and clinking coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Stopping in the doorway of the small kitchen, she smiled. Ron had magicked a broom and cloth to clean up the dusty kitchen as he was rifling through the cupboards. The kettle was hissing quietly on the old stove. She noticed her book was open on the old table. The floor must have creaked under her, because suddenly he turned to see her standing there. Ron crossed the small room in a few steps and pulled her to him. She laid her head against his bare chest and let him hold her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly, leaning down to place his cheek on the top of her head.

She nodded her head. "I just didn't want to stay upstairs by myself."

"I understand….I'm sorry I left you, I was trying to make you a cup of tea before you woke up…I've had a chance to read some of your book though, 'Mione, and it's brilliant. I still can't believe you wrote it, did all that work…Well, actually, I can, but still." Ron pulled back to smile at her, and tugged her over to sit in a chair at the small table. He went back to fussing in the cupboards, and soon enough the kettle was boiling and she had a cup of tea placed in front of her. They sipped in comfortable silence until Ron started acting jittery, tapping his bare foot and smiling to himself.

"Ron, what's got into you?" Hermione finally burst out with exasperated laughter. Ron stopped tapping his foot immediately, and smiled up at her cheekily, knowing he had been caught.

"Uhhhm…I have a surprise for you…but I'm going to need you to go back upstairs for a little while…maybe you could read in the bath for a bit. Just an hour, and then you can come back down."

"Whatever for?"

"Wellll…I told you…it's a surprise, I can't tell you. You're going to have to wait. Please?" Ron gave his best impression of a sad puppy and Hermione relented, standing up with her hot cup of tea and moving towards the stairs.

"One hour, Ronald Weasley, and that's it. You know I hate surprises…" Hermione mock threatened as she moved up the creaky staircase, not knowing what to think about Ron's sudden surprise for her. She shook her head and decided to take his advice, moving to take a closer look at the bathroom and all the little creatures that might have made it a home.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

An hour later, Hermione was walking around the old bedroom while she towel-dried her thick hair. She had managed to pry the shutters open and the newly rising moon was streaming light through the window.

She had so many memories in this room, as she did throughout the whole house. The hours she spent staring up and trying to count the shells in the ceiling, trying to force her memory to strengthen and fill in those fuzzy blanks she often had that first month. On the bed lying quietly as a cool breeze fluttered in through the open window, ruffling her hair and soothing her aching body where she lay between the snoozing Ron and Harry. The painful hours of the day when Bill and Fleur helped her stretch out her taught and strained muscles, which often left her in tears; she smiled as she remembered how Ron would often crawl into bed with her after and hold her gently and tentatively. It had been the beginning of their relationship, and they were so hesitant and delicate with each other until after the War. Sometimes Harry would even read books out loud to her when her eyes and head ached, letting her lean against him as his low voice lulled her to sleep.

"Hermione?" called Ron's quiet voice from behind her, "Are you alright?"

She realized she was sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed, the wet towel drooping onto the floor, forgotten in her hands. Then Ron was crouched in front of her, putting his hand on her cheek. "It's not easy being here, is it?" He asked, though she knew he meant it rhetorically. "We've avoided coming back here for eight years, and then all of the sudden I knew we needed to come back. It was time." She nodded slowly, knowing he was right but not knowing how to put her feelings into words. "I'm glad we did, Hermione…we came back, we survived, we made new memories here. Really good memories... And not all of our memories from this place are bad…I mean it took us going through what we did to admit our feelings for each other, and it happened right here on this bed." Hermione knew he was right. She smiled up at him. " Now, come on, it's time for your surprise."

Hermione let herself be pulled up and tugged out the door and down the stairs. At the bottom, Ron made her promise to cover her eyes as he lead her through the house. She let him guide her, not worried about him bumping her into anything, and then he was pulling her hands away from her eyes. A whole room of people cheered and she saw all of the Weasley family crammed into the sitting room of the Cottage, which he had since cleaned and expanded the furniture to accommodate everyone.

She laughed and beamed up at Ron, who went slightly pink at the ears. "I wanted to celebrate…I'm sorry we couldn't get your parents here on such short notice," Ron murmured apologetically to her.

Hermione shook her head, knowing it wasn't anyone's fault. "I can believe everyone's here, you've been busy!" Ron just shrugged his shoulders, but smiled goofily at her comment.

Harry was the first to approach them, grasping her tightly and picking her up in the air as she protested. He had grown quite solid and tall since their teens…well, he and Ron both, really…and Hermione had stayed much the same, albeit a little bit taller. They both towered over her, now, though. Harry kissed her on the cheek as he let her down, and suddenly she was being crushed to Ginny, who squeezed her tight and passed her to her mother. Molly Weasley was blubbering slightly as she clasped Hermione to her.

She was passed around the group of her family and friends, glad for the impromptu get-together. She had seen some of the family in the past days, and others not for a while, but she was happy to see them all either way. Ron was following close behind her, and she could picture him jokingly telling her later on that it was to ensure she didn't get smothered to death by his family. She heard Molly interrogate Ron for the reason for the party, asking him if a "little one" was finally one the way. Ron responded with an annoyed, "Muuum", and Hermione smirked to herself. Her mother-in-law would never give up until it happened.

Finally, she reached the last in her line of greeters, Bill, who hugged her one-armed with his young daughter in the other. He and Fleur looked at her searchingly, and she wondered if it was to gauge how she felt being in this house; they both knew why she and Ron had avoided it for so long.

Ron pulled her to his side and tucked her under his arm, smiling down at her. Everyone was taking overflowing glasses of champagne off trays floating around the room, and Ron took glasses for them, handing Hermione's hers before clearing his throat loudly.

The busy room stopped and looked to Ron, seeming to be expecting something. Hermione looked up at Ron too, trying to ask him silently what was going on.

Thank you, everyone, for coming on such a short notice, I really appreciate it and I know it's late for some of you. I haven't told you why we're all here tonight, so I guess now's a good of time as any…Hermione's book arrived in the post today, it's to be published." The group exclaimed loudly, and Hermione had the urge to cover her ears at the loud din. Everyone was trying to congratulate her at once until Ron held his hands up for silence. He looked down at her for a moment, seeming to consider her closely, and then looked back up at the group. Everyone waited expectantly. "Now you're probably all wondering why we're here at Shell Cottage, after all this time, and what it has to do with the book…Way back, in the month before the War ended, we spent quite of bit of time here…We…."

Hermione's heart began to pound as she realized what Ron was about to tell them, the secret they'd been holding back for years. Suddenly Harry was by her side, grabbing her other hand and squeezing it reassuringly. She looked up and he nodded at her, encouraging her. Ron was waiting for her approval, she realized, and she looked up into his unsure eyes for long moments before she nodded her consent. Ron let out a deep breath before continuing, the whole room quiet around them. Hermione shut her eyes, not wanting to see their faces.

"Around 8 years ago, in those horrible months we were camping around the countryside, we ran into some trouble and were captured by Snatchers. Hermione had changed Harry's face, but they figured out who we were anyways. They took us….to Malfoy Manor, where…where…"

"Where they realized we had something in our possession that was important to Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry continued strongly, taking over when Ron began faltering. Harry turned a bit to face Hermione, as if he wanted to tell her the story. "Hermione was who they choose to interrogate for information on the object. Ron and I got locked in the cellar dungeon, where we found Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander. Hermione…was tortured…for quite a while, by Lestrange." Harry ignored the voices that were suddenly raising around him. "We couldn't get to her, didn't know what to do…until that little house elf Dobby, appeared in the dungeon and helped us get out and get Hermione out of there. We came here, to Shell Cottage, where Bill and Fleur took care of us, took care of Hermione, for over a month. Soon after, we were back at Hogwarts and the War was over."

"We almost lost her…" Ron said quietly, and suddenly the room full of people were silent as they strained to listen. "She was out of it, stuck inside her own head, covered in cuts and bruises…Bill couldn't heal her, the curse was so strong that it overpowered magic….But Hermione, here, she fought back. She fought to wake up and take her own mind back. And days later, she did just that...Things weren't perfect right away. It still took a while for her to recover her strength, and her memory was a bit fuzzy at times, but she did it. And now….now she's published this book, and she's helped others when it was thought to be impossible. And I love her very much, and am so proud. So please raise your glass, everyone, to the most amazing woman I have and will ever meet. To Hermione!"

"To Hermione!" came the loud cheer from the group around them.

Hermione finally opened her eyes and felt self-conscious. There weren't many dry eyes in the room, and she stood feeling awkward until Ron pulled her to him again, wrapping her tight in his arms, his heart pounding fast under her cheek. She understood though. This was as much his story as it was hers. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he rocked her gently with him. She kissed him on the cheek, letting him know that it was okay, that she wasn't upset with him sharing their story.

She finally pulled away from him, grasping his hand, and noticed that the whole room had drifted into smaller groups, trying to give the couple their privacy. Hermione smiled as she considered everyone who was there to support and congratulate her. She was truly lucky.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione stood leaning against the frame of the back door in the kitchen, staring through the smudged glass to the moonlit ocean and sand. She idly held a drink to her as she stood there, but had pretty much forgotten about it. It seemed as though someone had been pressing a new drink in her hand every time she finished the previous, and she was feeling happy and slightly numb to the world around her. The party was still going in the house, only Molly and Arthur had gone home by now, taking their three grandchildren with them as a break for the parents. Harry, Ginny, George, Charlie, Percy, Bill, and Fleur remained.

Without a thought about grabbing a sweater or blanket, Hermione pushed herself upright and went through the back door, her shoes immediately sinking in the damp sand. She knew where she wanted to go, and headed slowly towards the large dune with the silhouette of a small stone at the top. The wind felt chilly, but she was too flushed and warm to notice the cold against her skin.

It wasn't easy climbing the hill in the darkness, with the wet sand weighing down her feet, but she made it to the top and immediately sat down beside the tiny grave. She reached out her hand and brushed some dried grass off, then traced her fingers over the carved letters.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come back, Dobby." Was all she could think to say into the cool air, the ocean rumbling softly. She took a sip of her drink and placed it in the sand in front of her, pulling up her knees to rest her cheek on, staring out into the sparkling water.

The soft crunching of footsteps drew her out of her trance, and she didn't need to look behind her to know who it was. Ron plunked himself down behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him so she was leaning against him.

"You're cold, love." His warm breath brushed against her skin and she shivered, leaning her head back onto his shoulder to let Ron press his lips to her neck. He intermittently ran his hands up and down her arms and legs under the pretense of keeping her warm, but otherwise they sat there quietly watching the ocean together.

"It really is beautiful here." She said after a while, and she felt Ron nod his head behind her.

Hermione let herself relax back against Ron, her body feeling boneless and warm as she dozed off in his arms. An unknown amount of time later she startled awake, feeling herself lifted off the ground.

"It's alright, I've got ya. Go back to sleep." His gentle voice rumbled through his chest to her ear. She nodded and felt distantly as he carried her back down the dune and into the house, up the creaky stairs, and into the bedroom. Faintly she heard Ron shush someone. She felt herself laid down on the soft bed again, smiling as Ron pulled off her shoes and lay down, pulling her so that they lay pressed together, her head against his chest. She began to fall back into a deep sleep again when she felt Ron mumble something. She forced herself to wake up and listened closer.

"You came back to me." Ron whispered, and then all was quiet.

-The end-

Thanks for reading and following this story everyone! It's with bittersweet feelings that I've finished this story, because I really enjoyed writing it. What did you think of the epilogue?