Work Text:
Never Forget
March 21, 2072
It was never an easy place to visit. No matter how many times he walked in, and how many times he left, it never got easier. It was always just taking one day at a time and hoping that this day would be different from the last.
This time, he’d brought something along with him, clutching it tightly to his chest. Even now, even after so much time, he still treasured the tiny bit of paper that they’d preserved for seventy years. And he hoped that it would mean something to her when he showed it.
“Morning, Mr Weasley. She’s enjoying some time in the sunshine today.”
“Thank you, Olivia.” He didn’t stop to chat, but instead walked down the quiet corridor to the garden. She was often outdoors when the weather was nice, preferring it to being cooped up inside her tiny little room.
The door was partially opened, and he paused, taking a moment to just watch her. As beautiful as ever, he thought with a smile. Yes, quite a few more grey hairs these days, and he missed the deep intelligence he’d used to see in her eyes, replaced by vacant staring most of the time, but she was still so beautiful.
He still loved her.
He clutched the paper even tighter and sucked in a breath, entering the garden. “Hello, my love,” he said gently, pulling up a chair to sit beside her.
Her eyes turned to him, and he searched them for any hint of recognition, but there was none. There never was anymore.
It had started seven years ago, with just a few moments of forgetfulness. She couldn’t remember where she’d left a book, and they’d laugh it off, joked about getting old. Then it had progressed to occasionally forgetting his name, the kids’ names, the grandkids’ names. Two years ago, she had no longer been able to recognise him when he walked into a room.
It had been Rosie who’d suggested she move in here, after his daughter found him crying during a particularly difficult afternoon. It felt wrong to do it, but she’d assured him that it was for the best. After all, he was getting old too. His wife needed people who could care for her properly.
Rose had spent weeks searching for the perfect place that would give her the best care possible.
He visited her every day, spent most of his time here. Sometimes the kids joined him, sometimes the grandkids. Even the great-grandkids on occasion. But he was always here.
“I brought something today,” he said, ignoring her vacant expression. He laid the paper on his lap. It was a newspaper clipping from seventy years ago, dated March 22, 2002. “Do you remember this?”
Her eyes glanced at the paper, but drifted away just as quickly.
He smiled. “It’s our anniversary today. Did you know that? Seventy years ago today, we were married, and the next day an article appeared in the Prophet . You were so angry, because we tried our hardest to keep the day private. But I liked it, because I thought it was the most beautiful photo the photographer managed to capture of you."
She was no longer listening to him, her eyes looking away.
“It’s alright,” he continued, used to the one-sided conversations. He convinced himself that somewhere, deep down, she could hear him, and that his stories would spark some kind of memory or recognition eventually. “Luckily for you, I came with a story to tell as well. Do you want to hear the story of the day we got married and my foolishness? Of how I almost ended up not marrying you?”
No response. He took her hand, holding it in his. “Happy anniversary, Hermione,” he whispered.
…
March 20, 2002
Ron watched her sort through the boxes, waving her wand every so often in order to seal them closed once she was done. The stack was getting higher the later into the afternoon she worked.
He’d finished his part an hour ago, laying out the table decorations for tomorrow.
Tomorrow , he kept thinking. This time tomorrow they’d be married.
Merlin, he wanted to marry her more than he’d wanted to do anything else in his life. They’d been so happy together these past few years. Things had all fallen into place and now, finally, they were to be married.
And yet, he couldn’t help the small sliver of doubt that had gradually made its way into his thoughts as the wedding drew nearer. Not about marrying her — never about marrying her — but whether he was good enough for her.
She was an intelligent and focused woman, who worked so hard to achieve all her dreams. Already, she was well-respected within the Ministry and many people who had been there a lot longer than she had sought her out for advice.
And he… he wasn’t as clever, or as focused, and he certainly didn’t work as hard as she did to achieve things.
“Done.” Hermione stood, rubbing at her lower back. “It’s finally done!” She turned, beaming at Ron. “We’re all set for tomorrow!”
So lost in his thoughts, Ron only managed a half-smile. This should have been the most exciting moment in his life, and all he could think about was whether he deserved this happiness or not — whether he deserved her .
“Is everything okay?” Hermione asked, stepping closer to him, looking concerned.
“It’s fine,” Ron assured her, forcing a smile. “I’m just… nervous about tomorrow. And excited.” He couldn’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t understand. He knew what she’d tell him — that he was being ridiculous, that of course she wanted to marry him, that he wasn’t standing in the way of her future.
Whether she truly believed that, he didn’t know, but that would be what she’d say.
“Oh, I’m so nervous too,” Hermione answered. “But it will be fine.” She offered such a genuine smile that Ron felt the doubts briefly fade.
He was marrying the woman he loved and that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? She’d tell him if she was having second thoughts… wouldn’t she?
She reached up and kissed him. “I can’t wait for this time tomorrow when I’ll be able to finally call you my husband.”
…
March 21, 2002
Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, not quite believing it was her staring back. She’d never been one of those fanciful girls who’d dreamt of her wedding day. She had never pictured her ideal dress, or what the decorations would look like, or where she’d get married. She’d never even given much thought to the person she’d marry, believing that if it was going to happen, then it would be right. She trusted herself enough to know that she wouldn’t enter a marriage lightly.
And she wasn’t. She’d never been more sure about something as she was about marrying Ron. She loved him so, so much and the thought of spending the rest of her life with him was something that gave her great happiness.
But she just hoped that he liked what he saw when he laid eyes on her. She’d never dressed up so much, never worn a dress so expensive before. Looks were not something she put great emphasis on, but today… today she wanted him to think her beautiful.
A lump had formed in her throat as her nerves threatened to get the better of her. Did she look okay? Or had she gone overboard? What if he saw her and she wasn’t the Hermione he’d fallen in love with? Would he still marry her?
Of course he would, she scolded herself. These were stupid thoughts. It was the nerves speaking. He’d marry her in whatever she showed up in, because he loved her , not her clothes.
There was a knock at the door, and Hermione turned. She lifted up the skirts of the white wedding dress, too afraid to dirty them, and opened the door.
“Ron!” she exclaimed, swinging it wide open when she saw her almost-husband standing before her. “We’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding.” Not that she believed in that silly superstition.
Ron had frozen in the doorway, his eyes staring at her. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and stayed there.
She had gone too far, hadn’t she? He couldn’t even recognise her.
“Dear Merlin, you're beautiful,” he whispered after a moment.
“What?” Hermione asked. “You mean… it’s not too much?”
Ron shook his head vigorously. Then he looked into her eyes, and a sadness washed over him.
Hermione’s stomach twisted. No, he wasn’t supposed to be sad today. This was a happy day. Why was he sad? The only tears to be shed were tears of happiness. “Ron?” she asked tentatively, not sure she wanted to hear whatever he had come here to say.
“I…” he walked into the room, pacing backwards and forwards. “I’m not really sure how to say this…”
Say what ? she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Why was he here; why did he look agitated right before their wedding?
He continued his pacing, not meeting her gaze. “It’s been building up for weeks now, as we get closer to the wedding, and it’s been eating away at me. I’ve wanted to tell you, but… but I haven’t found the courage to do it.” His hands wrung together and all Hermione could do was watch. She didn’t have the courage to press him, not wanting to hear where this was going.
Briefly, his eyes flickered to her again, taking her in. He shook his head and muttered, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this…”
“Ron.” Her voice came out choked and broken. “Ron, please don’t —” She fought back tears, not wanting to ruin her makeup.
“I have to say it, Hermione,” Ron said. “I can’t get married without saying it.” Finally, he stopped his pacing and faced her completely. “I’m here to give you an out. To walk away from having to marry me.”
“What?” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They rolled down her face, fast and free. What was he saying? That he no longer wanted to marry her? That he wanted her to walk away? No… that… he couldn’t… he loved her. She knew he did — she was certain.
But he looked so restless, as if he’d been holding this back for a long time and only now was finding a reason to speak it.
“It’s been playing on my mind for weeks now, but I haven’t known how to tell you. But I can’t marry you without giving you the chance.”
“The chance?” Hermione whispered. “The chance to what?”
“Walk away. End things with me before we commit to this.”
Hermione stared at him. “But —”
“Just think about it,” Ron said, resuming his pacing. “You’re brilliant. You’re smart, you… you have so much to look forward to in your life, and what am I?”
“The man I thought I was going to marry in less than an hour.”
Ron shook his head. “But I’ll hold you back, Hermione. You have so much to look forward to —”
“Like marrying you.”
“— that I reckon I’ll just get in the way. Stop you from doing the things you want. I want us to have kids —”
“So do I.”
“— and I’ll probably want that before you’re ready, and then it’ll all be a disaster in the making and we’ll argue over it. And I want a simple family life with you, where we come home after work and have dinner and talk for a bit, go to bed, maybe have sex, wake up, do it all over again. But you’re so busy all the time, and I dunno if you want that life, and if you don’t then… I’d rather hear it now than in five years’ time.”
“You could never get in the way, Ron.” Hermione wiped tears from her eyes.
He stopped, turning to face her again. His eyes glistened with tears, and when he spoke again, his words were choked. “I have to let you make the choice, Hermione. Please . I don’t want you resenting me in the future because I talked you into marrying me when you didn’t want to.”
Hermione stared up at him, blinking away more tears and contemplating her response. “Do you love me, Ron?” she asked softly.
“Yes, of course I do. More than anything.”
“And do you want to marry me?”
“Yes… more than anything.”
“Then why are you saying this?” She fought back fresh tears. “Why are you trying to find a way to get out of this wedding?”
“I’m not! Hermione, I just… I want you to be sure you’re making the right choice before we go through with this. I need to know that you aren’t going to wake up one morning and realise you’ve made a terrible mistake, that this life was not what you wanted.”
Hermione closed her eyes, turning away from Ron. She couldn’t believe this was happening less than an hour before they were supposed to be getting married. She swallowed, then turned back to him. “Ron, how long have you known me?”
“A long time.”
“And in that time, have you ever known me to make a decision without carefully thinking it through? Without analysing all the possible scenarios and then deciding on the best route to take?”
He didn’t answer. Now, she smiled, stepping up to him and resting her hand on his cheek. “I don’t even take a shopping list without checking it over at least twice. This is one of the biggest decisions I’ve ever had to make, so of course I’ve made this decision with careful contemplation. I’ve looked at all the possible outcomes, and do you know what they all showed me?”
“What?” Ron asked hesitantly.
“Happiness.”
He appeared genuinely surprised by this information. “All… of them?”
Hermione laughed. “Yes, you idiot. I’m happy with you, and being happy is more important to me than anything else. I want to marry you. I want to marry you today, in front of all our family and friends. And not having you in my life would hold me back and make me miserable more than your presence ever could.” She reached up and kissed his lips quickly. “Now, if you still want to marry me in fifty minutes, I’d suggest you get back out there and wait for me to be ready.”
Ron rested his hand over hers, which was still against his cheek. She kissed him again and then pulled away, smiling at him. “And when you see me walking down the aisle, you better act as if it’s the first time you have seen this dress.”
Ron smiled and nodded. “This is going to be the best day of my life,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.
…
March 21, 2072
“I was kind of an idiot that day,” Ron laughed, staring down at the paper clipping with a faded picture of himself and Hermione on their wedding day. “I let all my insecurities and self-doubt get the better of me. But you married me anyway, and as of today, we’ve had seventy happy years together. Two kids, five grandkids, two great-grandkids and a lifetime of love and happiness.”
He looked up at his wife, surprised to see that she was staring at him. She had a look on her face that he hadn’t seen in many, many years. She blinked, and ever so slowly, her hand reached towards him, coming to rest on his cheek, as it had done seventy years ago.
And then she said something he never thought he'd hear again. "Ron."
He blinked, staring at her to make sure it was real. But it was. He didn’t know how long her lucidity would last, but he embraced the moment, placing his hand over hers. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, it’s me. Ron. Your husband." A tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek, and he fought back more, to no avail. “It’s me.” He buried his face into her hand, relishing in her touch. “It’s me.”
She smiled, staring into his eyes with something that looked like recognition. With her free hand, she took the newspaper clipping from his lap. “I remember,” she whispered.
And that was all Ron needed to hear, all he had hoped for. For her to remember him, just one more time. For her to remember the life that they shared, and how much he loved her.
He blinked away more tears, bringing his forehead to hers. “Please don’t ever forget,” he whispered. “Please never forget how happy you've made me for so long.”
Her lips found his cheek and she pressed them gently against it. “I won’t,” he heard her say. “I promise.”