Chapter Text
Their suitcases sat against the wall just inside the suite, packed and ready to go, and the sight set Ron’s heart hammering. Hermione emerged from the bedroom at the sound of his entrance, wringing her hands together. Her apparent matching nerves didn’t put Ron at ease at all, but he forced out a quick, “Hey.”
“Hi.” Hermione raised an expectant eyebrow at him as she folded her arms across her chest. Ron could see the tips of her fingers still twitching against her ribcage, belying her show of calmness. “So?”
“Berisha’s not our guy,” Ron replied, and Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “John’s in custody, and we’ll finish the investigation from home. Harry’s got a portkey waiting for us.”
“Oh. So it was all for nothing, then?”
Hermione let out a huffy breath as her hands dropped to her sides. Ron noticed for the first time that she was no longer wearing the flashy engagement ring that he’d grown so accustomed to seeing on her finger. Despite the fact that it had never suited them, the ring’s absence felt symbolic, and Ron bristled at the implication. “Not nothing, I hope?”
The investigation had been for naught, but their time at the resort had given them something much more important. To Ron, anyway. He was getting more nervous by the minute that Hermione didn’t feel the same.
“Your whole case was built around Berisha being the head of a Death Eater uprising, so what would you call it?” Hermione retorted.
She hadn’t caught his meaning at all; she was talking about the mission. “Right.” Ron snorted before reaching for the handle of his suitcase. “Come on. We’ll miss that portkey.”
He caught Hermione’s frown as he turned away from her, but she followed him without further comment. They rode the lift nearly all the way down before Hermione broke the silence. “Ron?” Her voice was timid, so unlike her usual assured tone. “What happens now?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as the lift settled on the ground floor. On the one hand, he wanted to hash everything out, put all of his fears at ease about what this meant for them. But the day was beginning to catch up to him, exhaustion leaving him practically dead on his feet, and he thought that maybe this conversation was better had after they’d both gotten some rest.
So he did what Hermione had done to him upstairs, and referenced only the mission. “Harry will finish the investigation. I’ll write up a formal report when I get back to work. And you’ll pick up your caseload where you left off.” He gave his best effort at a half-hearted shrug, but the gesture felt hollow.
“Ron—” Hermione tried again, but he was already halfway out of the lift, the clattering wheels of his suitcase on the tile drowning her out.
Harry was waiting in the lobby with a blue and white striped tube sock, and Ron gave a quick shake of his head as he approached, a silent signal to his best mate not to ask how things had gone with Hermione. Harry caught the message, flashing him a puzzled frown as Hermione caught up.
“So, er…here you go.” Harry handed the sock to Ron. “It's getting late, so the team and I will stay overnight and be back in the morning. Take whatever time off you need to…” Harry’s eyes flickered to Hermione, and Ron wanted to hex him. “Sort things out.”
“Thank you, Harry.” Hermione reached over to give him a one-armed hug, keeping her other hand firmly wrapped around the toe of the sock, which had started to glow. “Be careful. We’ll see you soon.”
The light surrounding the sock grew to a blinding blue, and then the resort spun away in a swirl of color, replaced after several dizzying moments with the dull grey walls of Ron’s office. Hermione took a deep breath as she looked at him, but let it out in nothing but a wordless exhale. Ron circled his desk, digging aimlessly in the drawer to avoid meeting Hermione’s gaze, though she hadn’t made any move to leave.
After a long moment, he heard her shuffling feet approach, followed by the soft thunk of the ring hitting the wooden expanse between them. “I assume you can return that to evidence without my help?”
Ron closed his hand around the innocuous jewelry, letting the stone dig into his palm, and something inside him snapped. Timing and exhaustion be damned, they had to do this now, or knowing them, they might never get back around to it. “Hermione?”
“What?” She was halfway to the door, and she whirled to face him with tears in her eyes. “Just say it, Ron,” Hermione demanded. “You don’t want us to be together, it was all for the mission. The least you could do is be honest with me.”
“That’s—“ Ron shook his head as he stood, bracing his arms on his desk. “Is that seriously what you think?”
Hermione sniffled and wiped quickly at her eyes. “I don’t know what to think. You’ve been acting odd since the interrogation.”
“So have you!”
“Because I’m scared!” Hermione flopped into the chair across from him and buried her face in her hands so that her next words came out as little more than a mumble. “Being there wasn’t real.”
Ron’s heart sank. So it was just for the mission.
Before he could formulate a response, Hermione shook her head and corrected herself. “I mean, this was real, you and me—at least, I hope it was.” She looked up at him for confirmation, but he could only stare back at her. His silence, it seemed, was sufficient enough for her to conclude, “But it wasn’t real life.”
“We’re still us,” Ron pointed out.
“Yes. And us didn’t exactly work out the first time.”
“So.” Ron forced the word out past the lump in his throat. “What, you don’t even want to try?”
Hermione shot him a familiar look of exasperation. “Please don’t put words in my mouth. I’m not saying that.”
“What are you saying, then?” Ron set the ring back down on the desk, and Hermione’s dark gaze fixed on it.
“I’m saying,” she replied slowly, “that going undercover was probably the best thing that could have happened to us.” Ron lowered himself to his chair again, watching Hermione as she traced her fingers over the patterns in the wood grain. “We have a second chance at this. Yes, I’m scared, but…I want you. I want us. And I don’t want to muck it all up again.”
The silence stretched between them as Ron absorbed her words, until Hermione could no longer stand it and blurted, “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ron, say something!”
Ron chuckled at her outburst. “You wanna go to the Leaky? I’m starving.”
“Do I—what?”
“Haven’t eaten all day except a ruddy sandwich in between interrogations, and that was hours ago. You hungry?” Ron pressed.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest, settling into a defensive stance. “Ronald Weasley, I’m pouring my heart out to you here, and all you have to say is ‘you hungry’?”
“Well, yeah, we both know you don’t take care of yourself when you’re stressed. Have you eaten?”
With an almighty huff, Hermione stood and turned for the door. “You are, without a doubt, the most insufferable man I’ve ever met,” she chastised over her shoulder. She fumbled with her suitcase in what Ron suspected was a deliberate attempt to delay her departure, and he crossed the room to stand between her and the door.
“Is that why you love me so much?” he asked, grinning at her despite the death glare she was now shooting at him.
“Ron!”
“It’s okay, you can say it.”
“Oh, honestly!” Hermione threw her hands up, abandoning the suitcase. “Of all the ridiculous, presumptuous—”
“I love you, too.” His simple declaration took the wind out of her argument, and she looked back at him with wide eyes. “You wanted me to say something, yeah?”
“Well, I—yes, but—” It was rare to flummox Hermione so much that she was lost for words, and Ron took a step closer to her. “Only if you mean it.”
He rolled his eyes as he closed the gap between them, reaching for her hand. “Of course I bloody mean it.” He let his other palm graze her cheek as he brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re right, this is the best thing that could have happened to us. I’m scared, too, but—fuck, I’m way more afraid of the alternative. I’m not letting you go again.”
Hermione’s expression softened as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to lose you, either. But…”
Ron gave an emphatic shake of his head. “No buts. You’re overthinking it—as usual.” She rolled her eyes, and he leaned down to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Look, it’s never going to be perfect, you and me. We’re going to fight. We always have. But I reckon we learned from last time, don’t you think? As long as we’re together, the rest will sort itself out.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am. And…” As much as the next bit pained him, he continued, “It’s okay if you’re not there yet. We can take this as slow as you want. I don’t expect us to just pick up where we left off after all this time.”
“I appreciate that, thank you. But you’re right, I do think we’ve learned from our mistakes. We’ll do it right this time. Although…” Hermione looped her arms around his neck before glancing over her shoulder at the discarded ring on his desk. “I did get quite used to being engaged to you.”
“Well, I have good news, then.” Ron paused as he returned her embrace, then quipped, “I already know where we can go for our honeymoon.”
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him. “Where’s that? Not back to the Sphinx?”
“On the house,” Ron confirmed with a laugh. “I guess even though he knew we weren’t who we said we were, Berisha was quite convinced that we were together. Turns out, he’s not only not a Death Eater, but also a bit of a romantic.”
“How convenient.” Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes lightly. “Well, I suppose it helped that we weren’t really faking it.”
“Yeah, reckon that did it,” Ron agreed. “So…”
Hermione gave him a wry smile as she raised up onto her toes to brush her nose against his. “So…?”
Ron bridged the rest of the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. Hermione opened her mouth immediately beneath his, a contented sigh escaping her as she deepened the kiss. Before they could get too carried away, Ron’s stomach rumbled with such force that he was sure Hermione could feel the vibration. Confirming this, she pulled back with a laugh.
“I suppose we ought to take care of that appetite of yours,” she teased. Ron opened his mouth to ask, but Hermione beat him to it, reading his mind as usual. “And no, I haven’t eaten, either. But…”
She slid her hand around his back to land in his jeans pocket, pressing their hips together with all the subtlety of a stampede of hippogriffs. Ron grinned as her lips brushed his with her next words.
“Let’s get takeaway.”