*****

Ron relaxed, leaning back against the trunk of the gnarled tree that sheltered the bench on which he and Hermione sat. It was just before sunset on a chilly February day at the Burrow.

Hermione stood abruptly and walked away, staring away over the horizon. The lines of her body spoke of tension and weariness.

Ron called softly, “Hermione, come sit down. You don’t need to stand guard anymore. Voldemort’s dead, remember?�

She did not turn. “I know.�

Ron walked to where she stood and placed his long arm around her shoulders. By now, it fit perfectly. He spoke very quietly, as though she might startle and run. “It’s all right, Hermione. I’m here, you’re at the Burrow, and no one will ever attack you again.�

Abruptly, Hermione began to cry. Ron sighed and led her back to the bench. He didn’t speak, but gently rubbed her back as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Eventually her tears slowed and she rested her head on his damp shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Ron.�

He could still feel her body shaking. “It’s all right. It’s all right. I’m here.�

She turned a tortured face to him. “I’m not okay, Ron. I’m not –� She bit her lip, struggling to speak coherently. “I – I’m not.�

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione ignored him. “I searched for those Horcruxes, fought more Death Eaters than I can count, went to five funerals and four war-memorial ceremonies, and I sent my parents to and from Australia with patched-up memories without falling apart once.

“I used to be so strong. I don’t know what happened!�

Ron hugged her close as he repeated what they’d all heard multiple times. “It happens sometimes, Hermione. After the event, you know, instead of in it. I reckon you just…all that stuff during the war, it’s coming back now.� He handed her a handkerchief he’d conjured – he’d gotten good at those lately.

The sun had set. Molly could be heard from inside, “Supper’s ready! Ginny, come downstairs, please! Supper, Harry! Charlie, could you get your father out of his shed? Ron, Hermione, come inside!�

Hermione sniffled into the handkerchief. “Your mum is an anchor in any storm.�

Ron gently kissed the top of her head. “Don’t I know. Come on, she’ll set Charlie on us next.�


The next morning found Ron pacing the kitchen, his parents watching him. “Do you think this is a good time? I mean…I dunno…she’s just so…would it help or hurt or…I mean, she’s laughed maybe half a dozen times since the war ended? She smiles maybe once a week. I don’t want to make her worse…�

He could just barely see Hermione’s slumped figure on the bench outside.

His parents looked at each other. His mother answered, “It might help her know she is loved. If you feel ready….�

His father finished quietly, “We approve.�

Ron murmured as they embraced him, “Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mum. I will.�


That evening, Ron made his way out to the garden where Hermione spent a large portion of her time, despite the cold.

“Hey.�

She turned, a shadow of a smile on her face. “Hello, Ron.�

“Is that all? No ‘Hello, Stunningly Handsome’?� he joked, trying to cover up the nervousness.

The not-quite-smile stayed. “I think Ginny would laugh me out of her room.�

Ron knelt in the grass by her feet, but didn’t launch into his speech yet—getting enough air to speak had become curiously difficult. Hermione eyed him. “What are you doing?�

“Er…� That wasn’t quite how he’d meant to start. The Weasley red was flooding his face; his ears were hot already. “Well…yeah. I, er, I…IloveyouHermioneJaneGrangerwillyoumarryme?�

She obviously understood, because she reacted, but the fact that that reaction consisted of a dropped jaw was not especially flattering. Ron bumbled on, “I wouldn’t expect to get married soon, unless you really wanted to or something, but we’re only twenty—well, I’m not even quite twenty—and I understand if you want to wait a bit longer but I love you, I—I’m mad about you, you know that and I love you and – will you marry me, someday?�

Hermione had closed her mouth now. She looked at the delicate, tiny diamond in its equally delicate, tiny setting. She reached out a small hand – Ron never ceased to marvel at how small and beautiful her hands were – and touched the ring with a lightness that would have shamed a butterfly. Raising her eyes to Ron’s face, she laughed that delicious laugh that Ron missed so much. “You look so serious! Yes.�

Ron dropped the ring box, leaped up next to his fiancée, seized her in his arms, and captured her mouth in a deliriously happy kiss. She laughed against his lips and for once, Ron felt that all was well in the world.


The Burrow was home to more laughter and happiness in the next week than it had been in a long time – but then Ron became nervous. Hermione stopped smiling. She didn’t laugh again after his proposal, and she didn’t want to get involved in any conversation remotely involved in the wedding. She didn’t want to set a date, and she wouldn’t allow an announcement in the papers.

So when she asked him for a private word, exactly a week after accepting his proposal, Ron was already dreading the worst. He braced himself as she faced him.

“Ron, I have a really big favour to ask.�

He answered promptly, though with dread, “Anything,� but she shook her head.

“You can’t promise blindly… Ron, I need to leave the Burrow.�

He was surprised, but agreed readily, trying not to show his relief that she hadn’t broken their engagement. “Are you thinking of getting a place on your own, maybe with Ginny? That might be a good thing….� He trailed off; she was shaking her head.

“No—I’m glad to call the Burrow my home. But—I need to leave Britain for a while. I want to travel Europe.� Ron started to speak, but she shook her head. “As a Muggle.�

She took advantage of his stunned silence. “Not alone – not entirely – I have an aunt who lives in Sicily and I’ll stay with her; there’s a friend in France who’s promised to show me around little.�

Ron finally found his voice. “What – why?�

She sighed unhappily. “I need to get away from the war. I need to get away from reminders, monuments, cemeteries, people who recognise me. Magic…is tied to what I’ve been doing, people I love. Some of those people are dead.

“I don’t know who I am sometimes. I’ve spent so long fighting, so long helping Harry—you know, I think it’s easier for those who died fighting? No, not like that—� upon seeing Ron’s face – “but they died to make the world a better place for all of us. Now here we are, and what are we here for?

“I want to go back the life I was going to live, be a Muggle for a while. Cut ties. I want to find out who I might have been without magic—without the war.

“When I was younger, I did a lot of drawing, some painting. I thought that someday I’d travel Europe and sketch, sightsee…�

Ron finally managed, “I…I don’t understand… If that’s what you want…but…cut ties how?� His throat was tight with fear.

Hermione looked at her fingers, twined carefully together, and did not look away as she responded, “I’m not going to write. I’ll write my parents; maybe write Ginny. Possibly Harry. Probably by Muggle post.�

“To me?�

Hermione finally looked up, and Ron read it in her pale face. “You—you want to—break the engagement.� It wasn’t a question.

“I need to find out who I am away from all this, Ron. You’re such a big part of my life—you always have been. You tied your life to mine the day I started Hogwarts.�

“That’s a bad thing?� His voice broke. He remembered that day very clearly. To hear her speak of it with such misery was more than he could bear.

“No. Never. You—you mean a great deal to me, Ron. I…just…I can’t explain it…please. Please, I need this, and I can’t completely explain it. Please just say that you trust me. I can’t trust myself anymore.�

She looked beseechingly at him. Ron couldn’t respond—his entire world had just shattered. His Hermione was asking to leave him, and she was asking for his help to do it. He opened his mouth to say again that he didn’t understand, sure that he could talk her out of it.

But he didn’t, because when he looked into her eyes, he saw the first glimmer of hope that he had seen in her for months. He didn’t understand this whim, didn’t know why it was important, but if it brought her hope…he couldn’t deny it to her.

“Hermione—� he swallowed hard. “If…if you feel like you need to do this…then…then you should. I’ll wait for you.�

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she threw her arms around him, whispering, “Thank you. Thank you.�

Ron sat there long after she had left him, staring into the impenetrable darkness. He watched as the stars turned slowly overhead and the moon descended into the west. As it slipped below the horizon, he whispered, “I’ll bring you home again, Hermione. I swear I will.�

I know you're gone
I watched you leave
I always thought
That it was me


Hermione left by train, a train that would take her to the airport. She would start her journeys with the friend in France.

Ron and Hermione had an awkward goodbye.

“So…come back when—whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here, I promise.� Ron felt that he should have been speaking into her hair as they embraced, but they weren’t even holding hands these days.

She smiled sadly up at him. “Thanks, Ron.� She hesitated, then, as she had done in their Hogwarts days, rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

You made it clear
With that last kiss
You couldn't live a life
With maybe's and what if's.


He spent the entire first day pacing, running over the times in his head. Right now, she would be arriving at the airport. Right now, she was starting her two-hour wait for her airplane. Right now, she was lifting off, leaving Britain.

When every boat
Has sailed away
And every path
Is marked and paved…

She had asked them not to write. Ron spent all of that first day picking up quills, then putting them back down as he paced his room. Finally, he sat down and wrote her anyway.

Dearest Hermione,

I know you asked us not to write, so I won’t send this. You’re probably still in the airport anyway.

I just wanted to tell you that I think I get it. There’s more out there you haven’t seen yet. I hope you enjoy it all.

Love, Ron

P.S. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll bring you home.


She didn’t write, call, or owl for a week. Finally, when Ron was being forcibly restrained from charging off to France to start a frantic search, a phone call arrived on Arthur’s ancient Muggle telephone.

If anything, the call made Ron even more unhappy. It was good that she was safe, but he was losing faith in her return. It was hard not to, since the call had come to Harry, and only to tell him that Hermione had left for another province. Moreover, it hadn’t been Hermione who called – she’d left instructions with her friend before moving on.

He kept telling himself that she would return, however, and he kept writing letters that he never sent. A respectable pile began to grow on a corner of his desk.

When every road
Has had its say
Then I'll be bringing you back
Home to stay.


Nearly four weeks into her absence, the first postcard arrived. It was addressed to Ginny. The next one, a week later, was written to Harry. The second (though not the first, and not all of those that followed) contained a line to let Harry know that he might allow the card to be read by “others�.

She wrote of her travels, the art she had seen, how she was trying her hand at different styles of painting, how inspired she was to draw. A few tiny examples could be seen in the margins of her notes.

Dear Ginny,

Yes, you may let Ron read this one.

It’s finally beginning to get warm here. I’m glad that I didn’t come in the usual tourist season, because there are no crowds at all. The picture on the front is of the Vatican, the city where the Pope lives. I’ve been drawing a lot here – such beautiful, ancient art! I have missed this.

Love, Hermione

Subsequent postcards and notes found their way to a neat stack on the family room table. Ron read them over and over, drawing every possible nuance out of the short lines, written in what Harry said was ball-point pen.

I have the cards you sent to me
You wrote of trains and Paris galleries
This spring you'll draw
Canals and frescoed walls
Look how far your dreaming's gone


My Hermione,

I miss you. A lot. I wish you’d come home.

Ginny says she thinks you’re getting tired. I guess all art starts to look the same after a while. Does this mean you’ve had enough of Muggle life, or just Muggle art? When you come home, are you going to go back to your family or come here? Back to me?

I love you. Don’t forget that.

Love, Ron


Hermione gazed out over the terrace at the spectacular Greek scenery. Water, bluer than ever blue had been, sparkled in the early morning sunlight. The quaint village spread out below her, not yet fully awake. Fishing boats bobbed out onto the waters, dotting it with white sails.

She had a carefully short letter from Ginny. Only in the last postcard (not a public one) had Hermione provided an address for return mail.

Dear Hermione,

I’ve heard great things about Greece. I’ll bet it’s gorgeous.

Did you buy a camera? I’d love to see your photos, though of course your drawings are amazing.

Are you doing all right? Your last postcard made it sound like you’re not having quite so much fun anymore. Travelling can take a lot out of you.

I miss you! Take care of yourself.

Love, Ginny

She had planned no further than Greece, but she had a recommendation to visit Budapest, Hungary. Hermione let the beautiful view blur as she leaned her chin on her hands and gazed, unseeing, into the distance.


Ron read the letter three times before he would allow himself to start believing it.

Dear Ginny,

You’re right. I am a bit tired of travelling. I’ve loved everything, but it’s not home. No matter how much beauty there is in the world, it can’t take the place of home.

Yes, I’ve bought a camera. Yes, I’ve taken six rolls of pictures so far. I hope they do justice to all the marvellous things I’ve seen.

I think I’m going to stop in Hungary next. It’s not often a tourist sort of place, but a friend who used to live there told me that I absolutely must not leave the Continent before I see Budapest (the capital).

After that, I’m not sure. I might return to Britain. I’ve got to stop in with Mum and Dad; they’re getting a bit worried about me. They didn’t understand why I wanted to travel Muggle-style, instead of just being a Muggle with them.

I’ll write from Budapest.

Love, Hermione


It was the first time she had alluded to the Wizarding world in any way. Ron felt real hope stirring in his heart as he held the card, brushing his fingers over her neat handwriting.

When every town looks just the same
When every choice gets hard to make
When every map is put away
Then I'll be bringing you back
Home to stay.


Dear Hermione,

I hope travel showed you that there’s still something beautiful out there, even if it’s all really old paintings and buildings and such. I wouldn’t get it – I’d probably say things like, “Isn’t that where Dracula used to live?� and you’d snort and leave me behind, gawking like an idiot tourist.

Ginny’s a bit jealous (she keeps staring at the postcard from Greece), but she wouldn’t want to look at all the stuff you’re looking at either.

She would have wanted to use magic, too. You could tell her not to, but she’d cheat.

What I mean is, I see why you wanted to go by yourself. I wish I was the right person to go with you, but since I’m not, I’m glad no one else is either.

I love you.

Love, Ron


And now I know why you had to go alone
Isn't there a place between


She stayed two weeks in Budapest. Harry got another postcard; Ginny got a card and a letter. She wouldn’t let Ron see either.

When every boat
Has sailed away
And every path
Is marked and paved


Five months after Hermione had ended their engagement, Ron took the postcard that Ginny handed him and turned it over. His jaw dropped as he shot an incredulous look at his baby sister. She smiled.

It was addressed to him.

Dear Ron,

I’ve had a lovely time and I wanted to say thank you. Travelling Europe alone for an unspecified amount of time—it was such a mad request! Thank you for having enough faith for both of us.

You were right – I needed to see that there was still beauty and good in the world, after the war. Things that Voldemort couldn't touch. Things like ancient art and drawing and the innocence of Muggles who never had an idea that Voldemort ever existed.

When you’re ready.

Love, Hermione

There were two postscripts. The first one read, Don’t blame Ginny – I made her do it.

The second was the Floo address to the British Wizarding Embassy in Hungary.

Ron looked at Ginny again and over the sudden pounding of his heart asked, “What does she mean, ‘don’t blame you’?�

Ginny grinned unrepentantly. “Oh, I told her you were writing to her. She was curious, so I stole one of your letters and mailed it to her.�

When every road
Has had its say
Then I'll be bringing you back
Home to stay.


Three hours of agonizing red tape later, a young woman sat in a lavishly decorated room. Floor tiles laid in intricate patterns reflected the image of five ornate fireplaces, large enough to hold six people each. Across from these, behind the screen of her book, Hermione remembered the receptionist’s businesslike questions and flushed.

“Who are you meeting?�

“A friend,� Hermione answered softly.

“A friend? Is he on the list?�

Blushing furiously, wondering how the woman knew the impending arrival was a he, Hermione stammered, “No—not exactly—but he’ll be here soon.�

The receptionist took the hint and, too well-trained to pry further, allowed her to sign into the Arrivals room.

Hermione had brought a number of things to occupy herself, but none of them seemed to be working. At this moment, the print of her book was blurring itself beyond readability. She closed her eyes, hoping that they would fix themselves. Blinking, she almost missed the soft fwoosh of one of the giant fireplaces.

“Hey.�

She leaped up. “Ron!�

He already had his arms open. He gathered her into them, much to the satisfaction of several waiting people, whispering her name as though it were the most beautiful, potent spell in the world. “Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…�

She pulled back a little to smile at him. “I knew you’d come.�

His answering smile made hers stretch wider. “There was never any question.�

She was beautiful again. She always had been, in his eyes, but her smile was genuine and there was colour in her cheeks. Best of all, there was a happy, playful glint in her eye that hadn’t appeared even at his first proposal.

He dropped his arms and stepped back. She puzzled over this for only a moment before he dropped to one knee before her. The room’s other occupants held their collective breath as Hermione turned bright red, almost a genuine Weasley shade.

Ron pulled her ring from his pocket. “I do have a different question for you, though. I love you, Hermione Jane Granger. Will you come home and marry me?�

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she answered impudently, “That’s two questions, Ronald Bilius Weasley.�

Ron laughed. “Yes, but you can’t marry me from Hungary! Hurry up, the floor’s hard.�

She laughed joyously. “Yes and yes!�

He slid the ring gently onto her trembling hand, then sprang up and wrapped his arms around her, his lips finding hers as though they had never been a day apart. Laughter and applause echoed through the ornate room, celebrating a love that had finally found its way home.

Reach out to me
Call out my name
And I would bring you back again
Today.