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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

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When I Have You - Chapter 28

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Chapter 28

Christmas Day ended up being far more eventful than Christmas Eve. After the disappointment of facing a Boggart the day before, Ron and Harry found themselves Apparating all over Dublin, chasing after what appeared to be a Boggart infestation. Ron didn’t know if it was a coincidence, whether the Ministry had known about it prior to sending them or they had been placed there as a test for Harry and Ron to deal with, but it had been exhausting.

Reports were made all over Dublin by Muggles that they were quite literally witnessing their worst fears coming to life inside their homes. There were reports of people seeing their family members dead, then having them walk into the room a moment later (seeing their own, lifeless and sometimes bloodied bodies lying on the floor). There were reports of car accidents in living rooms, mummies, monsters, dragons, and on one occasion a wizard that looked so much like Lucius Malfoy that Ron had no doubt the poor Muggle had been Malfoy’s victim in one thing or another.

For Ron, who had made the Boggart disappear by running towards his fear rather than away, confused all of the other ones they encountered. It seemed that they no longer could change into his worst fear — because it still was the most horrifying thing that he thought could happen — because he knew how to handle it. So they instead had set their sights on Harry.

Like Ron, Harry’s Boggart had changed. Now able to cast a powerful Patronus, and the Ministry virtually eradicating Dementors from society, Harry’s greatest fear now was they would enter another wizarding war and more people would die fighting for his cause.

It had been rather disconcerting for Ron seeing his own body lying on the floor of a Muggle home, but also rather touching in a very weird way.

It really had been fun to be doing actual field work, but Ron was now looking forward to going home. As nice as it had been spending Christmas with Harry in a dainty wizard pub, nothing beat this time of the year with his family, and he was determined to make sure he was never away again for the holiday season.

Saying goodbye to Harry and acknowledging how well they worked together to deal with all the Boggarts, Ron slung his pack over his shoulder and Disapparated to Diagon Alley. It was late in the evening, so only the stragglers remained. Most shops were closed, or closing up for the day, which was what Ron wanted. He hadn’t told Hermione exactly when he’d be home and wanted to surprise her. He’d missed her a lot, and hoped that she’d missed him too.

He walked the rest of the way to their flat, immediately feeling the warmth and excitement of returning home wash over him. He'd left the Burrow so long ago now, and despite it always being his home, it wasn't home anymore. This was home. Wherever Hermione was. It was where he was happiest.

A narrow staircase at the side of a rundown robe shop led to their flat. It didn't look like much from the outside, and truthfully there wasn't much on the inside either, but they'd done a lot to it in their short time there that made it very welcoming.

He ascended the stairs two at a time, his excitement bubbling even more now that he was so close.

Once he reached the top, three doors ran along the corridor. They had wizarding neighbours but hadn't had much to do with them. Everyone mostly kept to themselves, preferring to Apparate from their homes rather than down in Diagon Alley. Ron wasn't even sure he knew who lived in the third flat. A single, middle-aged wizard perhaps?

Taking out his wand, he used it to unlock the middle door and pushed it open halfway.

Immediately, he was greeted by a rush of warmth and a feeling that was very, very inviting. He didn’t know what it was at first, for everything seemed as he had left it. The sofa was still there, the kitchen was clean and near-empty. The small breakfast table that he and Hermione sat at in the mornings together, and dinner when they were both home, was as tidy as ever.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the flat and closed the door behind him did he notice what was different. The lights were different. They were dimmed. And it was definitely warmer than he ever remembered it being.

And Hermione was happier than he’d seen her in a long time, when she all but threw herself into his arms, her own snaking around his neck as she kissed him hard on the mouth. Her mouth lingered on his, kissing him over and over, her arms gripping him tightly. His return home was very, very inviting, he decided.

When they finally broke apart (which wasn’t for quite some time, Ron was pleased to realise), he looked down at her. She was beaming up at him. She didn’t really look any different to how she usually did, but at the same time, she seemed more beautiful than ever. Two days — two days they should have spent together — had made him miss her more than the whole time she’d been at Hogwarts, or the whole time she’d been in Australia.

He knew he hadn’t gotten her the greatest present for Christmas, nor the most personal, but he’d still wished he’d been there when she’d opened it. He wanted to ask her what she thought of it, but decided now wasn’t the right time. She was clearly happy to see him, and for once, her attention seemed to be solely focused on him. He didn’t want to distract her with the trivial discussion of books.

“I missed you, too,” he said, stepping further into the flat and shrugging off his coat. It definitely was warmer than usual and not his imagination. Had Hermione upped the heating? It was certainly cold outside, but not that cold.

“Am I that obvious?” Hermione asked, following him over to the sofa, where he sat down and took off his shoes. He’d spent the past two days in them, barely getting a chance to sit down. His feet ached.

“Just a little,” Ron said, smiling at her. “But it’s not a bad thing. I liked that welcome.”

Hermione returned his smile and moved closer to him so that her arm pressed against his. “I just wish we could have spent Christmas together, is all. I mean, being with Mum and Dad was great, but… you’re better… I kept wishing you were there. I missed you so much.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I was there, too,” Ron said, rubbing his feet. “Being in Dublin and chasing around Boggarts for a whole day wasn’t exactly the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Would have much rather been with you.”

“Is that where you were? Dublin?” Hermione asked. “And Boggarts?”

Ron nodded. He hadn’t even been allowed to tell Hermione where he’d ended up, which he knew had bothered her. Her distaste for not knowing something aside, he could tell that not being aware of where he was being taken on these dangerous missions worried her.

“Yeah, Boggarts,” he told her. “An infestation of them, actually. Who knew they liked to group together? Let’s just say that there were streets of families who did not enjoy their Christmases, because they were either being burgled, or giant mummies surrounded them, or armies of snakes…”

“That sounds thrilling,” Hermione said, and Ron could tell by her face and her tone that she’d been imagining something a lot worse than Boggarts. He wondered if she’d fretted that he was facing Dementors or something and being left with his soul sucked from his body in the middle of nowhere.

“You’d be surprised what people are afraid of,” he said, thinking not just of all the Muggles he’d had to associate with in order to get rid of the creatures. He looked at Hermione, taking in every part of her and feeling relieved that she was in one piece. There was no blood streaming from her body, no large gashes that were irreparable, even by magic. She was whole and she was perfect, and he was more thankful than ever in that moment that he made the decision to try and work things out with her, because life without her didn’t seem possible.

Knowing that she was safe and finally seeing her, he wanted to reach out and take her in his arms again; hold her tightly. But he also didn’t know if he should tell her of his Boggart. She’d probably laugh at him.

“You’d be surprised how many people are afraid of losing the people they love the most,” he said quietly.

If Hermione understood what he was saying, she didn’t show it. Instead, she moved even closer to him, and Ron realised that he was perhaps talking too much for her liking.

He barely had time to register her coming at him once more. But he didn’t care, grateful to be near her again and even more grateful to feel her appreciation of him being home. It felt so good to have her lips against his once more, even if it felt different to when he had left.

There had been a feeling of desperation between them before — knowing that had neither of them been so stubborn or oblivious, then he wouldn’t be going at all. It was a reminder of what they’d been trying to fix. It was a reminder of Ron’s frustration with her, and her own ignorance in balancing a relationship with her work.

Things really had been good between them, but there had always been that underlying reminder of everything. He was trying really hard to accept that sometimes she really couldn’t come home when she promised him, and she was doing her very best to make sure she was home on time. They’d been making it work, but now, in each other’s arms, her hands running along his back, up to his face, her mouth pressed against his, filled with so much love, none of that seemed important anymore.

He’d… forgiven her. The last few days had driven him to let go of the remaining bitterness that loomed inside of him, the small slivers of doubt that occasionally ate away. Losing her was his greatest fear and the thought of living his life without her in it was near unbearable.

He wanted her and only her.

Forever.

She kissed him with a lot of energy, a lot of enthusiasm, and in that moment he was taken back to the beginning, where things had been very physical, very passionate between them. It was like that again now and Ron decided there and then that he wasn’t going to waste another moment dwelling over the past. She was a future that he was very happy to have and he loved her so damn much sometimes it hurt.

She was perfect. Even if she drove him mad at times, she was still perfect. She had always annoyed him, amused him, even, with the way she went about things, but he'd always loved her regardless. Even if, at eleven years old, it hadn't been a romantic love, it had still been a love that had blossomed into the absolute joy he felt right now.

This was how he wanted it to be all the time. This was how it was supposed to be, and he couldn't explain it, but he just knew, as she kissed him, as her hands eagerly tore at his clothes, that she really meant it this time. She wasn't pretending, she wasn’t forcing herself to do it. She truly wanted him and for the first time in months, he felt truly loved by her.

Some time later — Ron had lost track of time and he simply didn't care to know how late it was — they lay together in their bed, arms around each other and… happy. Happier than they'd been in a long time.

Ron absently ran his fingers through Hermione's knotted hair. It was such a peaceful silence, that when Hermione spoke, it took him completely by surprise to hear her voice. There had not been much talking to be had since he’d returned.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, snuggling into him.

"For what?" Ron asked.

"It's my fault you went away in the first place. All of it was my fault, and I could never see it. I could never really understand."

"Don't apologise, Hermione," Ron said. "Don't ruin this… don't ruin right now."

For a while, there was silence again. Then, Hermione spoke once more, apparently needing to get something off her chest. "I get it now," she said.

"That's good."

She lifted up her head, looking at him with so much affection, so much love, that had he had the energy, Ron would have been unable to resist her again. Instead, he stared back into her eyes. She was so beautiful, and he was so lucky. Why had she chosen him?

"I'm going to put you first from now on," Hermione continued. "I'll be home when I say, I'll put away all work on weekends, and I promise I really won't think about it at all when we're together." She fell silent, looking thoughtful. Ron tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I know,” he said.

"I really didn't mean any of it," she continued. "I got carried away, and it wasn't until you weren't here because of your work, did I realise just how bad you must have been feeling. I missed you so, so much over the last few days, and I kept thinking about how unfair it is that work gets in the way of moments we should be spending together. Going to bed at night without you there… it was lonely. I missed you."

"Yeah," Ron said, and he smiled at her. "But you kinda made up for it tonight, don't you think? Besides, I think I was being a little unreasonable."

"No," Hermione said, and she pulled away from him. "I don't think a few hours can make up for the way I've treated you over a few months. Your feelings were completely valid and I dismissed them entirely. I realise my mistake, and the fact that you still want to be with me —"

"I always want to be with you," Ron assured her.

"You almost broke up with me, remember —"

"Yeah, but I ran through every excuse not to. Every reason to stay…"

"Even if I made you completely miserable, even if you felt unimportant, like second best when you should have come first?"

Ron shrugged. He once again tucked away the hair that just didn't want to stay put. “Truthfully? I don’t really think I could have brought myself to do it. I think I would have preferred to have been unhappy, but with you, because the alternative would have been to be unhappy and not with you. Let’s not talk about this anymore. We both made mistakes, but it’s done now.”

"That's not a way to live," Hermione said, and she seemed genuinely concerned by his comment.

Ron shrugged again, suppressing a sight. "Does it matter now, though? I mean… we’re good, aren’t we?"

"No… I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore." She watched him for a moment longer, then apparently remembering something, she sprung out of the bed and disappeared from the room.

Ron barely had time to register she had gone, when she was back, clutching a small, flat, neatly wrapped gift.

"Merry Christmas," she said, passing it to him.

Ron looked at it for a moment, then back at her. "But —"

"Just open it," Hermione said before he could argue. "Tickets to a Quidditch game and some Chocolate Frogs really weren't an I love you gift, but I really wanted to give you this part in person."

Ron stared at her as she climbed back into the bed beside him. Honestly, he'd been pretty pleased when he'd discovered she'd bought him tickets to the next Cannons game. And he'd already eaten the Chocolate Frogs.

He'd barely taken the wrapping away and seen what was inside when she said, "It's a week away. Together. You and me, not worrying about anything else. It's during a week's break from training for you — I checked — and… well, they won't miss me too much."

"Hermione —"

"In Croatia!" Hermione said brightly. "I've never been there, but I've heard it's lovely, and it's by the water where we’re staying. The weather will be cold, but not cold like London."

Ron stared down at the single piece of parchment that Hermione had taken the time to wrap. It had a single date and time on it.

Hermione must have seen his confusion, for she added, still sounding excited, "I didn't know how else to give it to you, so that's the time and date of the Portkey that will take us there. It's a really nice hotel. Muggle, but I'm sure you'll be fine."

“I’m sure I will be,” Ron said, and he looked up at her, grinning. The thought of spending a whole week away with her, just the two of them, neither of them having to worry about anything, was highly appealing. And the fact that Hermione had gone to the effort, that she’d willingly taken a whole week off work, yet ensured that he wouldn’t miss out on any training, told him a lot.

Hermione smiled back, her brown eyes soft under the dim light that engulfed the room.

“I love you,” she said, and the words were like music. She’d said those words often, but it felt as if it had been ages since she’d truly meant it. Not because she didn’t feel it, but because her mind had been too focused on other things, too exhausted to mean it completely. But she meant it now — Ron could tell that she really meant it.

“Why don’t you come out with me?” he said after a moment, folding the paper up and setting it aside.

“What?”

“We never seem to go on actual dates.”

Hermione shuffled closer to him on the bed. “Where do you suggest?”

“I dunno. Let me think on it.” He kissed her, and it felt so good to feel her respond once again.

“Well, wherever it is, I’ll be glad to go,” she said. She kissed him again, and oh how sweet her lips tasted.

“Alright, what about this Friday?”

Ron watched for any hesitation, but none came, and he was satisfied that things really were better.

“This Friday is perfect,” she said. “And I’ll leave the planning to you.”

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