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Ron knew he shouldn’t be the least bit excited about this day. And he wasn’t. He’d rather it be any other day, could feel the sadness and grief spilling out from the day meant to memorialize it. May 2nd. Only one year since. Yet, as he woke before dawn and showered and dressed, all the while watching Harry from the corner of his eye for any sudden outburst, Ron found a part of him (no matter how hard he tried to suppress it) looking forward to this day.
“Ready?” Harry asked of him, speaking his first word of the day.
It was early. Too early, for their arrival but somehow Ron didn’t think anyone would say anything to them. He nodded, taking a good look at his best mate, and fought against asking him the stupid question of if he was alright.
“Yeah,” Ron nodded, and together they rose from the dining room table, leaving behind their half-drunk cups of tea, and followed him out towards the fireplace.
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley” McGonagall greeted them.
It was even darker this far north, at least the morning rays of sun had started to illuminate their flat’s kitchen, but McGonagall looked just as sleepless as they, sitting at the Headmaster’s desk, a quill in hand.
“Sorry to bother you so early,” Ron excused them both.
She forgave them with a quick shake of her head. “It’s no trouble, I expect you two won’t be the first to arrive ahead of schedule. The Great Hall is open if you care for something to eat.”
They hesitated, and Ron didn’t want to be the one to ask.
“And Remembrance might be the word you’re looking for should you happen to wander elsewhere.”
She gave them a sly smile, a look Ron was still quite unused to on his Professors face.
“Thank you, Professor,” they said in tandem and as she looked back down at her papers, they turned away, avoiding the prying eyes of the prior Headmaster and Headmistresses.
They’d been back to the castle of course, spent half the summer repairing bricks and desks, but it had been a year since they’d last taken this particular journey. He could remember the exhaustion acutely, his body finally shutting down as they, at last, journeyed towards the promise of a hot shower and a long nap. Well, a several days sleep in fact.
Just as a year ago, they did not share a word, silent in their companionship with only their echoing footsteps and distant chirping of birds to fill their ears. Within no time they found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, looking regal and alert.
“I’d hoped you’d visit,” she said to them.
“Anyone left yet?” Harry asked of her.
She shook her head, “No, all’s been quiet.”
The portrait swung open and Ron followed Harry through the hole, dropping down on the other side to an empty room. Ron frowned, looking around. He, as well as Harry, had hoped, really….
A lamp flickered on to the right of them and they both spun around to find Hermione sitting there, her legs crossed and a sly look on her face. Ron immediately grinned, the shadow of her surprising them in this very way in their first year, entering his mind.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said, standing up and then, giving up all pretense, threw herself at them both, the three of them caught in a hug.
It had been a long time since they’d clung to one another so desperately. Ron had hoped they wouldn’t have to again, never the less it felt right to be here, with them. Several minutes might have passed when at last they gave signals of detangling, though Ron didn’t let his position of an arm around Hermione go, sneaking in a quick peck as Harry pulled away.
“Is Ginny-“
“Should be down any moment,” Hermione told him, studying him.
Ron could feel the question on her lips and didn’t think if very wise for her—or anyone really—to ask and set about distracting her.
“And here you say you don’t throw yourself at people,” he teased her.
“How should I hug you then?” Hermione demanded, taking his bait.
“Oh, no I’m not complaining, just pointing out that you have this habit of throwing yourself at me,” Ron said.
She blushed, a healthy color he’d been worried about not seeing today, and shook her head. He bent down, giving up all pretense, and gave her a proper greeting. Beside them, Harry turned away tactfully, though Ron caught his annoyance as he did so and they only pulled apart when the thundering footsteps of another interrupted the quiet him of the common room. They turned as the door to the girl’s dormitory opened and there stood Ginny.
She sighed, giving an amused smile at the sight of them, “Well, you were right Hermione, guess they do manage to get up when it matters.”
She turned to Harry, her smile turning brilliant. “I swear I was going to be your greeting committee.”
“Well, I still need greeted,” he replied, the closest expression Ron had ever seen on his face to cocky and Ginny rolled her eyes at him even as she closed the distance and Ron had to look away from their reunion for his own sanity.
“All been well?” Hermione asked of him quietly, reaching up to pick some imaginary lint from his shoulder.
“Better now that I’m with you,” he tried but Hermione merely laughed, allowing him only to kiss her cheek. “It’s been fine, just, don’t ask, alright?”
Hermione didn’t look too happy with his analysis but accepted it with a reluctant nod.
“I’m fine,” he told her, trying to put as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. He didn’t know who his request for her not to ask would benefit more, he or Harry who’d been on an alarmingly short fuse all week. “How about you?”
Her smile faltered a little and worry infected him.
“It’s the same,” Hermione answered, not meeting his eyes. “As the summer, it’ll always be the same nightmares I think.”
Ron pulled her in closer and kissed her forehead, wishing that she wasn’t so far away. Perhaps this would be easier to talk about if the moments they were with one another weren’t so fleeting.
“I’m starved,” Ginny announced and they looked up. “Practice ran through dinner last night.”
“You say that like you’re not the captain,” Ron argued and Ginny grinned at him. “Why on earth would you make them miss a meal?”
“You don’t become school champions by giving up just because you’re cold,” Ginny shook her head. “Our match is next week, do they think it’ll be hot by then?”
It was funny how easily they slipped back into it. And for the walk down to the great hall, it was easy to forget why they were there, who they were. For that moment they were merely school children, teasing and laughing, emotions that for the rest of the day would be considered inappropriate. Ron cherished every second of it that he could. God, he wished it were a different day.
“Feels like we’re back in school,” Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair to catch Harry’s ear.
He gave him a smilier, bored, and slightly exasperated expression. “Who knew we’d be getting a lecture on the recovery of international potion trading?”
“They’re lobbying you know,” Hermione whispered all without taking her eyes off the podium turned lectern.
Harry raised his eyebrows at her.
“Lobbying to who?” Ron exclaimed as quietly as he could.
“To everyone,” Hermione answered. “This might be the most important gathering this year.”
“They shouldn’t be,” Harry said, suddenly angry. “It shouldn’t be about that, not today.”
Hermione glanced over at them at last, worried but Ginny beat them all to it, squeezing Harry’s hand. “No, they shouldn’t, of course not.”
Harry let out a sigh and Ron felt them all tense.
“Do you wanna go?” Ron asked after another minute.
He could feel Harry considering it but at last shook his head, checking his watch. “No, it’d make too much of a scene. Though I wouldn’t say no to taking our lunch outside.”
“Did you bring the cloak?” Ginny asked him. “Or I could sneak in-"
“We should just ask one of the house-elves,” Ron offered and Harry nodded. He felt him relax and it felt safe enough to look over at Hermione who was wearing a funny smile. “What?”
She didn’t say anything, just giving him that smile that made something inside him swell and he put his arm around her chair as she leaned into him.
It felt wrong, to be smitten in such a place. Though Ron reasoned, he’d spent years waiting for the right time. If he just kept waiting around he might never get to feel so lucky.
They weren’t alone for long. It had been nice, sitting on the banks of the black lake, hearing the sounds of the forest and watching the clouds drift overhead.
But as the lunch hour trickled on it seemed others had the same idea as they. Groups of two or three, walked out the doors, the same annoyed look on their face, same quietly seething rage that Ron had felt in flashes. And then they would draw closer and spot them and someone would give them a wave over and that anger, that exhaustion would ease. First Neville and Luna, Dean and Seamus.
Before Ron knew it the whole of Dumbledore’s Army had found their way to their previously private spot.
“Did you know Collin almost got expelled?” Dennis pipped up from the far end of the circle. Heads turned as Seamus finished telling his tale of Umbridge’s interrogation of him.
“No,” Ginny said, shaking her head, “you’re lying.”
Dennis shook his head, grinning like he had this great secret. “Cross my heart.”
He was a good storyteller, Ron realized, holding the tension until the most penitent moment.
“He’d been doing magic all his life you know. But of course, we didn’t know. Little things, funny tricks. Could never keep still, if I didn’t know better he’d learned to apparate before even coming to Hogwarts, you’d blink and he’d go from one side of the room to the other.”
They all chuckled, shaking their heads.
“So, he’s been doing these little spells all his life, and then he gets a name for it, comes to school, learns even more of it and then they just send him home with a slip saying he had to stop it all, bit cruel really, he just wanted to show us.”
Beside Ron, he heard Harry snort commiseratingly.
“The first one was on purpose, when you’re twelve and they tell you they’re watching you you have to test the rules a little, figure out if they’re lying and they weren’t.” Dennis said, “He’s sitting there, making papers fly around the room when an owl swoops in and drops a letter in his lap, gave me and dad quite a fright, though I’m still not used to owls dropping things in my lap, really, we’ve had centuries to figure out how to get letters without the chance of dung falling in your porridge.”
He looked over at Padma who blushed scarlet and laughter rang out. A joke that Ron did not know, but did not feel outside of.
“And Collin, so excited to be getting a letter, I don’t think he even saw the ministry seal, just ripped it open, expecting it to be a letter from a friend and I swear, I’ve never seen his face change so quickly. Straight from bursting with excitement to no color at all to threatening to put all over the table.”
“So he put it away, locked up his wand, and cried because you couldn’t take that away from him, magic. He’d never loved something more.” Dennis’s face wavered and grief passed over them all. He sniffled and gave a watery smile. “Summer goes on,” he continued, eyes wet, “Goes full muggle with me. Telling me everything that had happened and God was I happy to have my brother back. And for a few weeks, everything is fine, sure he’s acting out stories every chance he gets but it’s not real magic….exactly.”
“The second letter comes in the middle of the afternoon. We’d gone out to the creek and he’s telling me about quidditch, jumping over rocks and branches, acting it out, when, there it is again, from nowhere an owl swoops in. Now, we’d gotten used to them. But it was always the same owls he was writing through. This time, however, Collin hesitated.
“I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, he said, and he wasn’t. Just making jumps higher than any child could. So he opens it and there it is again Second infraction. We couldn’t figure out what he’d even done and now he’s paranoid. He couldn’t get kicked out of school, not with only one year, not with a whole life….” Dennis paused again, and the grief rippled out, “Not with a with a whole lifetime of magic ahead of him.”
There was no stopping it this time, he covered his eyes with his hands, falling forward and beside him, Seamus reached out, laying a gentle hand on his back. Hermione reached for Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“But remember what I said,” Dennis burst out, tears rolling down his face and Ron could see he was trying to smile through them. “Collin had been doing magic his whole life, he didn’t need a wand. It was something deep within him, little spells, little bursts of-“
Ron felt his own eyes mist as Dennis dissolved completely. This was how it was supposed to feel, Ron thought. Sadness, yes, but filled with laughter and stories of the fallen. A day in their memory.
It went on and on. The speeches and the handshaking and the tearful thank yous. All of it, Ron knew was supposed to mean something but after their picnic by the lake, it felt so…so disingenuous. He found he wanted to be anywhere else, talking about anything else, dreading the next person to approach them or the next person to get up or even whisper his name.
He knew he was being unfair. It had been all of their war. But he wasn’t crying, and he’d been through the worst of it. Somehow he managed to keep it under control, to listen to the tearful stories, to allow his mother to fuss over him, to
It was near sunset when they made their next escape. Dinner finished people, beginning to trickle out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade where the memorial was promised to continue. They’d gotten separated from Harry and Ginny. His sister he spotted across the room, sitting with Angelina and George and another handful of older Gryffindors he only recognized on-site, but the former.
Ron scanned the crowd for his best mate, worry beginning to infect him. He didn’t like not knowing where Harry was, particularly not today when a year ago-
“Come with me,” said a voice in his ear, and relief coursed through him. At once they stood, leading the way out of the great hall and up the stone steps. Last year, when they’d made this journey, glass had crunched beneath their feet but in its proper place, the decorative glass made pretty patterns on the floor.
Once out of sight Harry whipped off the cloak, his hair ruffled and exhaustion tinting his eyes.
“Where to?” Hermione asked, sounding as relieved as Ron felt.
They all sort of looked at one another for a moment before Ron suggested, “Astronomy tower?” and they set off without a word of protest.
It felt good, moving. Not used to the many Hogwarts staircases, Ron found his legs burning a little by the time they reached their destination.
It was beautiful, up here. They could see nearly the entire grounds, the black lake golden and the treetops of the forbidden forest painted red by the dying sun. In the distance, he spotted Hagrid lumbering back to his hut as if it had been any other day and he was retiring. It was strangely comforting, seeing something so mundane as the gamekeeper returning to the home that a year ago had not existed.
Suddenly, a lump conjured itself in his throat and it was very hard to swallow. Ron glanced over at Harry and wether by Hagrid of another stimuli he found him just as affected, his jaw working as he rested his elbows on the railing.
A year. Only a year since they’d been here. Sometimes Ron felt the war was still on their doorstep threatening to burst through.
Hermione sniffled, moving closer and he couldn’t bear to look at her without crying out himself. She tucked herself against his chest, his arms wrapping around her without thought, holding her close as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
The sun bathed them in red and then gold and still they did not utter a word. Did not need to. It was enough just being there, the three of them, knowing there were two others who felt exactly the same tight feeling, the same grief, the selfish joy of being here today when there were so many others that couldn’t be.
If they had asked, at that moment, Ron would have been able to say he was fine, contentment in his bones, spreading with every squeeze of Hermione’s arms around him. With every little breath of Harry’s proving, he was still there, still breathing. They were alive. It was a gift enough.
“I think I’m going to take a walk,” said Harry when the last few rays of light shone over the tips of the trees, making the forbidden forest look as magical as Ron had ever known it.
Ron nodded, for the first time that week not afraid to watch his best mate leave the room. “Alright, see you in a bit.”
They watched his retreating form down the stairs and back into the lamp-lit castle.
“Is he going to be alright?” Hermione asked once certain he was out of earshot.
“Yeah,” Ron told her, tugging on her hand so she turned to face him. “As much of any of us will be.”
She turned her eyes away and onto him. It was their first moment alone, Ron realized, as she put her arms around his neck and stared up at him. He braced himself for her to ask how he was, not wanting to lie, not sure he could even conjure the truth but she merely stated, “Today’s been harder than I thought.”
The tension inside him released and he let out a long breath, nodding.
“I’ve felt it all week,” Hermione went on as he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “Been short with everyone, I keep dreaming about-“
“Yeah,” he said as tears dotted her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hermione thought for a moment and then shook her head defiantly. “No, I don’t….do you?”
“No,” he agreed, “I just want to enjoy being here, with you.”
That smile that made his heart swell was back and the worry eased from her face.
“I miss you,” Hermione agreed. “A stupid amount really.”
He ducked his head, kissing her cheek, a slow kiss, and felt her cheek twitch with delight, and then it was her turn, inching closer to his, soft and tender.
“Do you miss me?” she murmured, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.
He pulled back long enough to look her in the eye, to show his sincerity when he told her. “Terribly.”
It was sometime before either of them spoke another word.
“It’s been a year,” Hermione pointed out in a hesitant tone as they descended back down towards the great hall in search of Harry.
“Oh, has it?” Ron teased.
“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “I mean since we-“
“Since you threw yourself at me?” Ron went on and before she could say did not! In that squeaky huff, “And I quite literally swept you off your feet.”
Hermione blushed, closing her mouth, and then said, “Yes, that you did.”
They stopped and he let go of her hand so he could put his arm around her before continuing.
“It’s too morbid,” Hermione went on, pondering. “To call it our anniversary.”
“Perhaps,” Ron told her. He’d thought about it quite a bit. Wavering back and forth. Whenever they told the story everyone agreed it’d been terribly romantic, but to say it outright felt a bit crass. “But I’m glad we did, that we didn’t wait any longer.”
They slowed and Hermione didn’t meet his eye. “I thought I was going to die that night, I was prepared to and I…”
“Hey,” he said, waiting for her to look up. “You didn’t, I didn’t. We’re still here, Hermione.”
She nodded, “And we’re happy.”
He agreed with a grin. “And we’re happy.”
“And we’ve been happy,” Hermione continued. “For a whole year.”
“Well…” he teased and she nudged him. “Yeah, we’ve been happy for a whole year.”
“I love you,” she said tenderly.
He couldn’t help but say it back. “I love you too.”