Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. And the poem..hehe. Alaina Grottingham is a fictitious charactor.

A/N: Sorry about the part where she's speaking in French. I have no knowledge when it comes to this language. So imagine Jacques and Hermione having a fluent conversation, for I have no idea have to say anything but hello and thank you! ;-)
 
 

Hermione Granger sat curled up in the cozy living room of her modest sized flat in Paris, France, a book of 'inspiring poetry' clutched in her arms. She was reading for a break, really, research on the Mona Lisa's magical roots and ties had exhausted her. So much poring over books.

She'd been living in Paris for eight years. Much too long and much too short at the same time. She hadn't seen her three best friends, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley, for eight years. She hadn't written to them for five. It was very sad, but when the time had come to choose between friendship and her career, she'd chosen career. Maybe the argument had to do with it a bit, but honestly, they were just old school chums, right? Right, Hermione. Uh-huh. Really convincing.

She was dying to see them, but her craves came in phases. She thoroughly avoided photo albums at all times. This just provoked the longing, but if she avoided things like Quidditch (too Harry) candy (too Ron) and blue nail polish (too Ginny) she was all right, really.

She flipped nonchalantly through the book, searching for a good one. "As the World Passes Me By." That caught her eye. The poem rhymed, her favorite kind, and she began to read:

I'm standing at the sea shore,
As the world passes me by.
I think of all I've left behind,
And hide my face to cry.

The memories of the good old days,
Are more like haunting dreams,
Whispers follow me along,
Like hidden moonlight beams.

I once belonged to you, my friend,
But now I am alone,
The friendship I can remember
Has rotted to the bone.

As I stand and watch the waves come in,
I see a flash of gold,
A burst of blue and silver,
Your favorite colors I behold.

Your heart is where I can't be,
Your home is far away,
My joy is gone forever,
I dream of you each day.

Sea foam mingles with my tears,
As I watch the setting sun.
And I hope that I might see you,
Before our lives are done.

~Alaina Grottingham, Famous Poet

Tears gathered in Hermione's brown eyes. Angered by her own weakness, she leapt to her feet and marched to the mirror. A hideous sight looked back at her. Bushy brown hair, red puffy eyes, and a wet face. Yup, that was her all right, sobbing, stupid Hermione Granger, who chose her studies over her friends. She was ugly, inside and out, the poem had thoroughly unnerved her. You slimy git, she chided herself. You made a bad decision, but it's too late now. It's too late for a lot of things.

The next morning she pulled herself together. At least, she tried. It was silly, it was only markings on paper, that poem, and she'd made the right decision. Harry and Ginny could live without a friend... and Ron? Ron could stay a bachelor for a while, as far as Hermione was concerned. Though deep down she knew she'd never be the one to marry him, she didn't want anybody else to experience the pleasure.

Every time she thought of that poem, a nervous churning feeling started in her stomach. It was almost as if she desperately wanted to read it again, but couldn't. No, she'd die of loneliness if she did, for sure.

But as she said in her kitchen, in the breakfast corner decorated in green, she decided to get out. After all, fresh air on a sunny day like this would do wonders, wouldn't it? So she slung her bag with her rough draft of a report inside and headed for her favorite cafe. It was down a peaceful road, where the neighbors walked their dogs (and a shriveled old woman named Madame F'louge walked her cat) could be viewed easily. The chairs were both outside and in, and she preferred the outside.

"Mademoiselle Granger, bon jour!" A charming voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to face young Jacques, who was nineteen and desperately in love with her. Though she had no feelings toward him, he was her very favorite waiter.

"Bon jour, Jacques," she replied. Hermione was quite fluent in french. A grin crept onto her face as she remembered Hagrid telling Madame Maxime "bong sewer" in Hermione's fourth year. Oh, Hagrid had been such a wonderful person.

He led her to her favorite table. "Merci bocou, Jacques," she said, then placed an order for a roast beef and provolone sandwich, with au jous in which to dip it.

Hermione sat watching people be seated as she waited for her food. She shivered as the cool wind blew and slipped on her brown leather coat. This didn't seem like the sort of thing Hermione Granger would wear, but it flattered her figure and made her eyes seem richer and more sparkly.

"Mademoiselle Granger!" Jacques was back. He presented her with her lunch and she thanked him again. Settling down to eat, she peered at a man walking toward the cafe. He was staring at the ground as he walked, looking rather empty. A hat was pulled over hs head, and his feet shuffled in an almost shy manner as he walked. She felt bad for him, for some reason, and he entered the cafe without looking in her direction. She watched him through the window continuously. Curiosity killed the cat. Her mother's favorite saying popped into her head, and she looked away, but was soon staring again. He looked so familiar. He never turned to face her, but she was reminded distinctly of someone every time she looked at his tall, gangling figure.

But who?

She had long finished eating, but, being a regular customer at the Fleur Cafe, (Flower Cafe) she was allowed to stay and take up a seat as long as she pleased. Pulling out her records, she began working on the report. To her left, there was suddenly a burst of color. She looked up and saw a No-Heat Wet-Start Filibuster's Firework explode in the air. As she watched it mournfully (she usually avoided this, too, for it was far too Fred and George) she had a flashback.

"Hermione, c'mon," Ron sounded impatient, waiting outside her dorm. "We want decent seats, as you're going to be called up more than once."

Hermione threw the door open and grinned at him. "Shut up, you. HARRY!" She hollered as she walked to the boys dorm and pounded on the door. "DID YOU FIND IT?"

"No," Harry answered, opening the door and letting Ron and Hermione in. He couldn't find his hat. Ron and Hermione searched, and finally located it under Neville Longbotttom's bed.

"Oh, like we would have thought to look there," Ron said, laughing.

"I did," Hermione teased, then suddenly, her face went somber. "I'll probably never be in this room again. Oh, I don't want to go. Please, let's stay and be sixth years forever. We'd never have to graduate."

Ron sighed. "Oh, Hermione. We can't. But we'll be friends even though we're graduating tonight. I promise," he told her, gathering her into a hug. "And plus, we'd have to take more N.E.W.T.s!" When he was done, she embraced Harry also.

"Good-bye, boys' dormitory," she whispered, and blew it a kiss as they turned and walked down the staircase. "I'll never forget the fun we had here, Harry, Ron. We were so happy, weren't we?"

Ron and Harry sighed,  but said nothing. "If you want, Hermione," Harry said patiently, though he felt a little silly, "We can let you back in the dormitory later."

She smiled. "Thank you. Even though my time there was limited, I loved it even more than my own dormitory."

And they headed out and followed the trail of fireworks to the great hall.

Hermione sighed. Oh, how she missed those days. The delighted children, such young wizards and witches, next to her clapped and squealed at the sight of the colors and sparks.

Hermione slammed the 947-page book shut put away her papers hurriedly. This was too painful, she could work at home. She waved at Jacques and he came over, handing her the check. She handed him a few sickles and was lifting her book bag when she heard the voice.

"Hermione?" Hermione gasped in surprise at the sound of her name. She knew very few here who called her by her first name. She was only "Madmioselle Granger" with most folks. Who could that be? She whirled to face them and she felt her jaw drop.

It was Ron.

Ron Weasley, her old best friend, her old boyfriend, was staring at her. He hadn't changed a bit in eight years, and she was relieved. He stood there gaping, and she gaped back for a while. Jacques stood between the two, bobbing on his heels and looking from one to the other excitedly.

"Ron?" Hermione mouthed, making no sound. "RON!" And, much to Jacques' dismay, she squealed like a little girl and ran at him and threw her arms around him.

He clung to her for a second, then released her, sighing. "It's been so long, 'Mione."

She nodded, blantly ignoring her least favorite nickname. "I know. Eight years."

They stood, lost for words for a moment, then smiled at each other. But still, neither spoke. What do you say to a best friend you haven't seen for almost a decade?

"So, erm, how's Harry and Ginny? And yourself?" Hermione asked, praying he wouldn't answer with "they're dead." She wouldn't be able to BEAR that anymore. During the Dark War, that was the all-too-common reason your lost-lost relatives sent you an owl, to inform you of a family murder. Hermione shuddered, as she'd had far too many of those experiences. Her fingers crossed in her jacket pockets.

"Okay, I guess." Ron shrugged, a pained expression coming over his face. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. "They're married now, did you know?"

"Who?" Hermione knew who, but didn't want to believe it. She felt sick. Harry and Ginny's wedding. She'd missed it.

"Harry and Ginny, you git," Ron teased, his old smile appearing on his face and absolutely delighting her.

"Oh," she whispered.

"Hermione, they were going to invite you, you know, but... well... nobody knew where you were or if you were living," Ron rambled along, then stopped. "We missed you. A lot, Hermione Granger."

Hermione felt a flush growing in her cheeks. Ron misinterpreted her reaction and said sharply, "What? Is it still Granger?"

She locked her gaze with his and said firmly, "Yes. Yes, Ron, it is."

Ron grinned and rammed his toe at the pavement shyly. Hermione smiled to herself. He was so cute, and he didn't even realize it.

Hermione drew a breath. She needed to say something intelligent. She was standing there gaping like an idiot. Think, Granger, think. "Ron, would you like to see the book I am writing?"

Ron's eyebrows shot up toward his flameball hair. "Sure, 'Mione."

Shuffling about in her bag, Hermione pulled out a rough draft. "I'm working on art. Finding magical ties behind the paintings such as Mona Lisa. I even discovered a dirt repelling charm on it! You can't touch it, it's heavily guarded in the Lourve, but if one did, it would never smudge! People say, 'Oh, it looks so good, they take such good care of it,' but it's magically enhanced. Fabulous, isn't it?"

As she continued flipping through her papers, she noticed a smile creeping onto Ron's lips out of the corner of her eye. Then, quite suddenly, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Hermione stopped talking rather abruptly. She gazed at Ron, too pleased to move. Surely there was a hole burned in her cheek now, surely.

Ron's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm really sorry, Hermione. Look, I didn't mean anything... you just... something came over me... I'm sorry," He finally blurted.

Hermione mouthed wordlessly, gathered her mind again, and breathed, "It's okay, Ron. I right liked it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

And he fell thoughtfully silent for quite some time.

Something came over me? Hermione couldn't help but wonder about this as she jammed the book's second draft into its canvas bag. So it meant nothing, eh, Ron? Nothing? Are you positive?

Because I'm not.

They decided to go for a stroll. It turned out Ron was on holiday in France and had stopped at the Fleur Cafe "because the name brought back memories" (he was rewarded for this announcement with an unpleasent swat from Hermione.) Hermione agreed to show him around, and then she spontaneously invited him to dinner.

"I don't have too much planned tonight, fried chicken, actually."

As they strolled the paths on their way back to Hermione's flat, Ron fell unusually silent. Hermione cast him a sideward glance, and he saw her looking at him. He smiled at her, and she reached out and took his hand.

"Ron, I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For distancing myself like that. I was conceited, full of ambition for my career... I guess I just sort of forgot what really means the most to me. You and Harry and Ginny, that is." She drew a breath, and rambled on. "I wish I could roll back the clock. Then I would be living in England with the rest of you, and I would have seen Harry and Ginny's wedding." And maybe had ours. Hermione frowned. Where had that bloody thought come from? "It was a stupid, stupid choice. But it's too late."

Ron sighed, then draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "It's alright, Hermione, no one blames you." He grinned suddenly, his eyes dancing in that old farmiliar way that made Hermione's stomach turn.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "I hope not."

"Don't worry."

They fell silent.

Hermione lead Ron all the way to her flat without either of them speaking, and she climbed the stairs to her second floor rooms and opened the door with a flick of her wand.

Ron's eyes widened.

"Wow, Hermione. This is really nice!"

Hermione grinned. "Thanks, Ron. It's not quite as nice I'd like it to be, but there are a few homey touches." She gestured at the matle over the fireplace. Six or seven framed photos lined it. She lead Ron over to show him.

The pictures were very nice. They showed various shots of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Then there were individual shots, all very small, crammed into one frame like a collage.

"This one is my favorite." Hermione pointed at one with a large group of people. Standing in front was Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, their arms draped over each others' shoulders. They were laughing and grinning widely. Behind them were Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "It always makes me smile." She grinned at Ron, expecting him to smile back, but he was suddenly somber. He touched each person and turned and walked a few paces away. Then he noticed Hermione's prefect badge, sitting on the end table beside the couch. He lifted it, and Hermione saw his lips form the word, "Percy." She sucked in her breath. Percy had refused to even make an appearance that Christmas, her last at the Burrow.

"What? Ron? What is it?"

He turned to face her and she could only stare. Tears were forming in his eyes. He brushed them away and said simply, " Hermione. Percy. He's dead."

Hermione froze. Her eyes, filling slowly with tears, darted from the prefect badge to Ron standing next to her. She sank onto the couch. Ron, looking very pained, sat silently next to her.

"Are you serious? When-When did it happen?"

"A year ago." Ron swallowed. "The - the death eaters."

Hermione nodded, the tears spilling over her cheeks. Though she'd never really liked Percy, she knew the guilt and tears the Weasleys were suffering from would have been unbearable if she had known when it had happened.

"Hermione, he and Mum and D-dad..." Ron's voice broke, and though she was pressed against him, feeling his body tremble, she wasn't sure what to do. Ron had never cried in front of her before. Ever. And how comforting was it to a crying person to see somebody else cry? "Never m-made up." He drew a great breath. "But Penelope loved him, and never stopped, I think. She married him... didn't invite us to the wedding. Percy wouldn't... have it."

"Penny's okay now?" She finally managed.

"Sort of. She had a d-daughter, Lindsay. But Lindsay was kidnapped..." Ron's voice trailed off and he shrugged, lost for words. Finding them a moment later, her spoke again. "They haven't heard of her since." She opened her mouth and he said quickly, "This was three months ago."

Hermione sighed. "Ron, I am so so sorry."

He shook his head, and Hermione gave a sob big enough for the two of them. She reached blindly out and circled her arms around Ron, clinging to him in her sorrow.

He let out what would've been a sob. Hermione felt as though her heart were breaking. She pulled Ron into a Mrs. Weasley-like bearhug and held him tightly. "Shhhh... Ron, it's all okay. Everything is okay."

"No it's not." Ron pulled out of her arms and turned his face so she couldn't see him. More tears spilled over Hermione's cheeks as she watched the pain. She felt like an outsider. She'd never had a brother. Ron had five of them. She had no way to know what it was like... how it felt to loose a sibling. "Hermione..." He finally turned to look at her, and his eyes were red. "The last thing I said to him..."

"What was it?" She asked gently.

Ron shook his head, and for a second Hermione thought Ron wasn't going to tell her. "I told him that he could keep denying it, but even Fudge had seen him. Percy said I was wrong, that I needed to stay away from Harry, because everybody thought.. well, you know."

"Yes, I do," said Hermione softly. Some had thought, after their experience in fifth year, that Harry had placed a charm over everyone present during the... adventure, if one could call it that. The minister seemed to have been converted, but Percy... he was his own worst enemy. His pride stood in the way of an apology, of a forgiveness.

"I said he was an idiot and that... that... one of these days... they were going to..." Ron gave a sudden breath, a very boyish sob. "to get him."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione managed, and she didn't know of any other wya to help him. She rushed forward and pulled him to her. "Ron, it's not your fault, you didn't make it happen. You didn't mean it, he knew you didn't."

"But I did, Hermione." Ron looked down at her, and the tears were running freely now. "I meant every word. And now..."

Hermione pressed her lips quickly to his as a tingle she hadn't felt in eight years rifled down her spine. "Ron, he knew you were angry. Please listen to me..."

But she trailed off. Ron was gazing at her, transfixed. He stood there for a long time, and then finally he smiled a tiny smile. "Thank you, Hermione." His voice shook dangerously, and he shrugged, lost for words. "I..."

"Yes?" Hermione said quickly, crossing the fingers that were wrapped around his back.

"Thanks."

She sighed. "Oh. You're... you're welcome."

"That was the first time I ever..." Ron shrugged again, looking embarrassed.

"I could tell." Hermione rested her forehead against his and said in such a soft whisper that Ron barely heard what she said. "It's okay to cry. It's an important release."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah, whatever. Listen, Hermione, I gotta get back home. I told Mum and Dad I'd be home tonight but I never thought... I never thought I'd see you." He wiped her tears with his thumb, and she shivered. "Goodbye."

And with that, he pressed his lips to hers very quickly and was gone.

Hemione had no idea when she would see him next, but she couldn't decide if seeing him had lifted a wieght or added a second or even a third to her shoulders.

Hermione found herself much happier, even after Ron went back home to England. The death and kidnapping were all very sad, of course, but life was easier in general.

Then they brought the surprise.

She had been sitting in silence on her couch when the doorbell had rang. Who in the world would be ringing that thing at this hour? Hermione wondered, noticing the clock over the fireplace read ten o'clock. Nonetheless, she was intrigued by the laughs and shouts from the front step. She opened the door a crack and, in her opinion, witnessed a miracle. With a squeal of delight, the door was flung open and Hermione let herself fall into the arms of the one closest to her.

Ron said nothing, but the sparkle in his blue eyes and the grin on his face were worth thousands of words as she clung to him.

It was everyone. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, spouses, and children. Ginny and Harry had a little girl swinging on their arms between them, with the most beautiful shade of dark red hair, clearly a combination of Harry's and Ginny's. She was giggling at another little girl, who stood shyly buried in Bill's robes, clutching a tall blonde woman's hand. A shouting pair of boys were in what seemed to be a screaming match. Fred and George (or was it George and Fred?) were trying to seperate them, two recognizable women next to them: Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson.

Hermione stepped away from the hugs and shouts for a moment, and smiled at them, tears in her eyes. The mass of choas was her family. Well, not by blood, but...

Then she noticed her own parents, hurrying down the flat hall. They were running behind, which was no surprise, as the others must have apparated. "MUM! DAD!" And she ran to hug them.

She actually had seen her parents, two years ago, but the rest of them were extremely different and the same together.

"Come in, everyone, come in!" She finally gasped.

Then Harry grabbed her in a hug and said, "Hermione! I missed you! We all missed you!"

Hermione giggled faintly and whispered into his shoulder, "Even the ones I have yet to be introduced to?"

Harry laughed, nodding, and said, "Hermione Granger, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Elizabeth Hermione Weasley."

"Hermione?" Hermione squealed. "Harry, Ginny..." her eyes full of tears, she shrugged helplessly, and Ginny brandished a handcercheif at her, saying loudly, "Don't cry!"

Elizabeth was adorable. She had Harry's endearing, bright green eyes and messy hair, but Ginny's complexion and hair color, and the end result was a truly beautiful five-year-old.

Harry grinned, punching her playfully on the arm. "What do we have to do to convince you that we missed you, Hermione? Anyway, that's Bill and Fluer's daughter, very quiet, her name is Allie. Actually, her full name is Alexandra, she prefers Alexandra. There is Fred and Angelina's son, with the curly black hair, his name is Daniel, and there's George and Katie's son, Byron." Harry grinned.

Fleur seemed very familiar. "Fleur Delacour...um Weasley?" Hermione managed.

Fleur nodded. "Zat would be me."

And Hermione embraced her warmly, saying "I knew it!" Then she let go, and everyone fell silent looking at her. Mrs. Weasley looked nervous, but Hermione smiled at her and then said softly, "Penny didn't come?"

The others looked at the ground and shook their heads. "She didn't want to," Ginny whispered, looking like she might cry. Harry put his arm around her, murmuring, "It's okay."

Hermione sighed, gazing at them all. "Wow! This is wonderful! Come in."

The apartment had never been so crowded. Nor had it ever been so happy and full of life. Hermione whipped up a meal in a matter of seconds by magic for the family to eat. And eat they did. Laughter, jokes, gossip, and stories filled Hermione more than her baked ham and mashed potatoes ever could.  Hermione was no longer filled with guilt, remorse, and nostalgia, but love, life, warmth, and peacefulness. She was home.

As she muched the cake she'd created for dessert, Harry on her left, Ron on her right, Hermione sniffled back tears.

Harry's hand found hers beneath the table and squeezed it in a very friendly manner. She squeezed back and then leaned over and hugged him. "I missed you so much," she murmured.

He grinned sadly at her but said nothing.

Ron, meanwhile, seemed at a loss for words. He'd hardly spoken the entire time, which was most uncharacteristic.

"Ron?" Hermione managed, tears threatening to spill, "Are you-"

"I'm fine," he said, sounding exasperated. Then he leaned in closer to her, and she gave him a funny look. "Where's the loo?"

Hermione smiled and gestured down the hall. How could she be so silly? "On your right."

As soon as Ron was in the bathroom, he blew out his breath, feeling sick. She was even more beautiful now that she'd grown up. And, oh Lord, did he love her.

Yes, love.

Ron had yet to tell her, that it was true. She'd never known, but he desperately wanted her to know. He reckoned he'd never stop loving Hermione Granger. Never, ever...

A small vase of freshly cut flowers was perched on the counter. Ron ran his finger over the smooth marble, recognizing it as the vase Ginny had given Hermione as a graduation present. That had been a very interesting night. Ron thought it was impossible to cry enough to form a real, live, puddle, but it seemed Hermione had.

"Ron?" A small voice spoke timidly through the door, startling him. "Are you in there?"

He opened the door to reveal Ginny. "Hey, Gin."

"I didn't mean to disturb you-" Ginny started to say, blushing.

"Oh, it's fine. I wasn't using the loo. I was-" he stopped, unsure what he was doing. "I was-"

"It's fine," Ginny murmured, looking toward the dining room. Ron could hear laughter and he recognized the twins' voices above all of the noise. Then Ginny spoke again. "When are you going to tell her?"

Ron's ear were burning. "Tonight, I hope."

Ginny smiled. "Well, good luck if you do. She'll be shocked."

Ron, who had been idly staring at his feet, lifted his head to gape. "You think? She will?"

Ginny stood on tiptoe and gave him a very sisterly kiss on the cheek. "She'll be delighted." And just like that, the red-haired girl was gone.

Ron blew out his freckled cheeks, his ears burning and his heart pounding.

Finally, when he figured Hermione was probably getting suspicious, he left the bathroom and stumbled back into the dining room. Hermione wasn't listening, she was attacking Harry with questions about his wedding, all of which he was answering with enthusiasm.

"Hey, Weasley, took you long enough," Harry exclaimed when his brother-in-law stumbled into the room. Ron gave a very half-hearted smile.

"Ron?" Hermione's voice was full of concern. "Are you alright? The food didn't make you sick, did it?"

Ron blushed. He hated her, oh how he hated her. "No, it was fine, Hermione." He dared his eyes to meet hers for a second, and then they skittishly flitted away.

Ginny sniggered, and Harry smiled at his beautiful wife. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, causing him to give a snort of laughter that quickly turned into a cough.

After the dinner, it was near midnight. Hermione looked around fearfully, afraid that they might all leave her. Sure enough, as wands flicked and the cloaks zoomed towards their owners, Hermione let out a sharp, fearful cry.

"NO!" Everyone froze and turned to look at her. "Please, I'm sorry, you may go. Thank you so much for coming, you don't know what it's like, do you?" She laughed bitterly. "To be forgiven at last for such a crime, one of ignorance, makes me feel complete again. I love you all. Feel free to go or stay, I don't mind either way." Hermione then turned pleading eyes on the people she loved the most. "Harry, Ginny, Ron? A word?"

The threesome nodded and put down their cloaks. Hermione noticed that Ron had never even picked his up. Her stomach flip-floped.

"Look, you three..." Hermione felt silly. "I was wondering if you might like to stay the night."

Ron's eyebrows arched. "All of us?"

Hermione nodded. "Ginny and I can share my room, and Harry and Ron can take the guest room. Or, Ginny and Harry can take the guest room, and I'll conjure a bed for either Ron or myself for the living room-"

"No, let's have your room, Hermione," said Ginny happily. "It'll be girl-talk all night. Just like old times."

Hermione smiled, relieved that there was no rush. "Exactly. And the boys can talk it up in the guest room."

Ginny smiled back at her, then turned to Elizabeth, who was swinging on Ginny's arm. "Mummy and Daddy are going to sleep here tonight, sweetheart. How about a sleepover at Unle Fred's and Aunt Angelina's?"

"Yippee!" was Elizabeth's shout of a reply.

"Shhh," said Ron, smiling. "Remember the neighbors, Lullabet."

Hermione stood watching this as a tiny green monster of envy started in her heart. Here was Ron, joking with Harry and Ginny's daughter like he were her favorite uncle, which Hermione reminded herself, he probably was. And yet, Hermione would barely recognize the girl on the street. She plastered a smile on her face when a small sniffle turned the five year old's wide eyes upon her.

"Are you Uncle Ron's wife?"

The four adults went stiff. "No, I'm not," Hermione finally managed, debating how she should answer the question. "But I... I..." Say it. Just say it. In front of Elizabeth? Of course. She's four. She'll never remember. Five-year-olds remember absolutely everything. But not this. I just need the courage to tell him. But is it true? Beyond any truth I've ever told. Then it should be simple. No problem. Over with in a split second. Ta da! Oh, do shut up. What do I say? You say three little words. Hermione cleared her throat, captured Ron's gaze in her own and said, still speaking to Elizabeth, "But I love him as much as if her were my husband, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's green eyes widened dramatically and her hands flew to her mouth. "That's very nice, Auntie Hermione. And you can call me Lullabet."