We Were Gold

May 1998

The castle smelled of war; smoke and blood and Dark Magic. Friends and lovers and family would watch each other die today; the air tasted of suffering, and the fighting hadn’t begun in earnest yet. The three of us had reconvened after retrieving the basilisk fangs from the Chamber of Secrets, and it struck me as I looked at Harry just how young he was; how much he had been expected to shoulder in his youth. Ron and I had chosen to fight, had chosen to follow Harry since our first year; Harry had never had the luxury of choice. We would fight and we would win, and the weight of the world would be off of his shoulders, and he could live the life he chose to. He could be selfish and barricade himself and Ginny away from the limelight and have a family of his own and give nothing else to the Wizarding World for the rest of his life.

I looked to Ron and found myself wondering how he would come out on the other side of the upcoming battle. Ron who was loyal and kind and had become my main source of comfort during our time on the run; who had always apologised when he was quick to judge or let his temper lead him. Ron, who could be cruel, but would defend those he loved with every fibre of his being. Ron, who was worried about the house-elves during the siege that was upon us. I dropped everything and kissed him; kissed him because I may not get another chance and I couldn’t stand the idea of dying without him knowing that it had always been him.

* * *

July 1998

Harry and Ginny were sprawled on a picnic blanket outside of the Burrow, staring up at the clouds, and enjoying the feel of each other’s skin. Ron had his head in my lap as I absently played with his hair, watching the sky for any sign of the owl delivering my Hogwarts letter. Harry had understood why I needed to go back; I had left things unfinished, hadn’t properly been able to say goodbye to the place where I had truly embraced being a witch. Ron hadn’t. He didn’t understand why the three of us couldn’t continue as a unit at the Ministry; we had all been offered walk-in roles, no further training required. I needed to earn my place; I refused to let the war define every aspect of the rest of my life, even if I had fought on the right side of it. Ron felt like I was abandoning him and Harry; the argument we had had after I told them both of my decision to return was the worst we’ve ever had. He couldn’t see how I could function without he and Harry by my side and hadn’t spoken to either of us for days.

He hadn’t seen the mind healer I had found for him since his first appointment; he insisted that he was fine; that the loss of Fred and the horrors we’d witnessed weren’t haunting him. Harry and I worried about him and the wall of denial he was hiding behind; we both attended our weekly sessions religiously, not having missed a single appointment. It was during these sessions that we both independently came to the conclusion that we needed to speak at the trials of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy; Ron had disagreed, vehemently and vocally, but eventually spoke with us. I worried that he would slip up on the stand and let his well known hatred of Draco colour his testimony. He held the future of the Malfoy line his hands, and he was almost gleeful with the power he held over his childhood tormentor. Narcissa had been released on eighteen months’ house arrest, while Draco had been released on probation, the terms of which required him to attend his final year of schooling. Ron had begged me to change my mind about returning to Hogwarts when the decision was announced; he feared that Draco would stay faithful to the ideals that had ruined us all of our youth and torn our lives apart. I had stayed firm, walking over to Draco as the Chief Mugwump dismissed the Wizengamot to shake his hand, which he took without so much as a hint of disgust.

Two brown barn owls swooped low under the branches of the oak tree we were lounging under. They delivered letters to Ginny and I before departing. I hugged the envelope to my chest, remembering the joy I had felt when Professor McGonagall delivered mine in my parents’ sitting room. A reason to explain the oddities that had occurred throughout my childhood, relief for my parents that I wouldn’t be alone in this life, struggling with a burden they couldn’t understand. Three sheets of parchment fell out with a golden badge: the standard letter of welcome from the new Headmistress, the list of required reading, and the third notifying me that I had been made Head Girl, to serve alongside Draco Malfoy.

I had looked forward to being made Head Girl since our first year, had dedicated myself to my studies in the hope that the honour would be bestowed on me; this wasn’t unexpected, and I knew that my parents would have been incredibly proud. However, I dreaded telling Ron about my partner, unwilling to listen to him spout vitriol about Draco; I didn’t have the energy to hate Malfoy anymore, not after everything.

April 1999

Ginny and I sat opposite each other at a table for four tucked away in the back corner of the Three Broomsticks. We were both full of nervous energy; we hadn’t seen Harry and Ron since Christmas at the Burrow and had been looking forward to this Hogsmeade weekend since it had been announced. I was in the process of methodically shredding my second coaster when Ginny leapt up. I watched her run to Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him deeply. I stood slowly, brushing my sweaty palms on my pants as I made my way to Ron. His eyes crinkled up in a smile as he saw me, tugging me towards him by the zip on my jumper. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to my lips before sliding his hand into my back pocket.

“Oi, get your tongue out my sister’s mouth!” He swatted Harry on the back of the head.

He and Ginny separated reluctantly. “Won’t be the only place his tongue will be if I’m lucky,” she replied primly, retaking her previous seat.

“Fucking hell, Gin you’re my baby sister,” Ron groaned in disgust.

Harry and I laughed at the look of horror on his face, before he took his seat next to Ginny.

“Do you need a hand getting the drinks?” I asked him, entwining our fingers.

He shook his head. “Nah, Rosmerta’s got them coming. On the house, of course.”

I bit my lip. “Ron, I wish you wouldn’t take her up on those offers. We can pay for our drinks. I don’t want to give the younger students the wrong idea.”

He sat down heavily in the chair I had previously occupied, tugging me down next to him. “Hermione, you need to relax. We won the war. She just wants to show her gratitude. It’ll teach the kids that they need to be on the right side of history.”

“I just don’t want to be recognized for the rest of my life for what happened during the war,” I replied firmly. “You know, she’s started letting Draco back in here? She forgave him after the letter he wrote her. Thank goodness too, I was getting sick of going to the Hog’s Head after patrol.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of my co-Head but said nothing. He thanked Rosmerta with a leer when she delivered our drinks. He took a sip and began recounting the details of the case he had just been assigned, significantly embellished if the look on Harry’s face was anything to go by.

“Ginny, I was talking to Draco about your contract with the Harpies, and he thinks you’ll have a good shot at the finals next year if you can escape without injuries,” I jumped in before Ron could begin another story from his short tenure as an auror. I felt him twitch at Draco’s name, but again he stayed silent.

She nodded, barely taking her eyes off of Harry. “Yeah, the beater pair was best in league last year, so hopefully we continue that form. I’m nervous, obviously, since it’s such a huge step up from Hogwarts quidditch. Thank Merlin I was glamoured for the try-outs; I don’t think I could have handled the questions about Harry mid-air.”

Ron shook his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t let them know you were the Ginny Weasley until you got the spot.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, repeating herself for the umpteenth time. “I’m don’t want to play on a team where they only gave me spot because I’m dating Harry Potter, and my brother is Ron Weasley. Same as Hermione, with her N.E.W.T.s.”

I nodded in understanding before waving at a third year girl who passed our table.

“That’s Amanda Foley,” I told the boys. “She’s chaser for the Slytherin quidditch team. She’s been giving Ginny grief all year on the pitch. Apparently, she’s been an even bigger headache for Draco as captain-”

“That’s enough of all the fucking “Draco” nonsense, Hermione!” Ron cut me off angrily. Harry quickly cast a Muffliato. “He’s a Death Eater. He’s the reason Fred is dead.”

“Ron, mate, that’s not fair. He was a kid, like you and me, and-”

“No. Fuck Malfoy. If I have to hear you two defend him, I’ll take Charlie up on his offer to kip at the sanctuary in Romania. I’ll leave and I won’t come back, I can promise you that. He’s evil. He hasn’t changed at all; he’s just fooled you both.”

I looked at Harry over our butterbeer; Ron was unstable enough after the war to follow through on his threat.

“Sorry, Ron. I was being insensitive to everything that’s happened,” I said in a small voice.

He nodded, satisfied with my apology. I felt Ginny’s eyes on the side of my head but couldn’t bring myself to look at her for the rest of the visit.

* * *

October 1999

“Hermione, this is a muggle neighbourhood,” Ron whispered in my ear as we walked up a steep staircase where a real estate agent was waiting to show us a flat. “You must have misread the listing.”

“Shush, Ronald. I know that it’s a muggle neighbourhood,” I hissed, elbowing him in the ribs when he opened his mouth to protest.

“Here for the showing?” a young woman in a tan pantsuit greeted us, clipboard in hand.

“Yes, hi, we’re Ron and Hermione.”

She nodded, pulling a key from her pocket. She opened the door and stood back to let us through. As soon I stepped into the flat, I knew that this was where I was meant to live. The living room had built-in shelves on two walls; the third had a beautiful wood-burning fireplace; the fourth, a large window, looking down onto an expansive park. The kitchen was well-equipped, and there was a massive clawfoot tub in the bathroom. The master bedroom had an ensuite complete with shower and floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall, with enough space for a least one bookshelf. The spare bedroom could easily be turned into a study.

I turned to look at Ron excitedly. “It’s perfect! It’s exactly what we need!” Ron grimaced, clearly unenthused. “Sorry, could you give us a moment?” I asked the agent who had been hovering in the living room. She stepped out onto the landing, closing the door behind her.

“Hermione, this is totally muggle. We’d be able to connect the fireplace to the floo, but it would be risky to apparate, and we definitely couldn’t have owls. How am I supposed to get anywhere? Or talk to anyone?”

I sighed. “Ron, we don’t have to move in together. You suggested it when I finished school, and I think it’s a good idea, but there’s no rule saying we need to live together right now. I grew up in the muggle world; I’d like to spend a little more time in it.”

He looked at the ceiling in frustration. “Harry and Ginny are living at Grimmauld; it makes sense for you and me to move in together. You’re just starting your barrister training; you shouldn’t have to come home to an empty house every day.”

“Just because they’re living together doesn’t mean that we must. It’s not a competition, Ron. This is our life. I can afford to buy this place by myself; I don’t want you to be tangled in something that you aren’t fully convinced about. I love it; I’m going to make an offer.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re right. I can stay at Mum’s until something catches my eye. And nothing says I can’t spend every night here with you, keep you warm.” He said with a wink.

I moved into the perfect flat ten days later, Crookshanks and furniture from my parents’ house in tow. I steadily filled the apartment with books and photographs, knitted blankets from Molly, and baskets in every room for Crooks. Ron stayed at the Burrow in name only; he slept over with me every night, only leaving for meals and for Molly to do his washing.

* * *

March 2000

Ron ran his fingers through my hair as I lay on his chest, catching tangles and knots every so often. He was breathing heavily, covered in a light sheen of sweat, still coming down from his orgasm.

“Merlin feels like ages since we’ve done that,” he said, pressing a kiss to my hairline. “You’re so sexy, Hermione, you’re amazing.”

I kissed his chest, humming quietly. Ron had returned from a ten-day mission in Inverness earlier today and had immediately dragged me to bed. His desperation meant that he had bypassed foreplay, bottoming out in one thrust the moment that we were undressed.

“Feels so good when you come on my cock,” he murmured, reaching for his bedside table.

“I didn’t come, Ron,” I replied, rolling onto my back beside him. I didn’t mind; I was happy that he was home in one piece, and more than content to simply feel his skin on mine. Ron had been my first partner, but I wasn’t completely naïve to the orgasm-gap in heterosexual relationships; the romance novels I read whilst he was on missions, trusty muggle vibrator in hand, were fantasy.

“Of course you did. You always do, babe. I know your body,” he said with a wink, sitting up against our headboard. He became defensive if he detected any criticism or feedback on his performance in bed and had acted like I was some sort of deviant when I showed him my vibrator for the first time. I didn’t mind orgasming alone; I had been doing it, and doing it well, since our third year. I felt confident in bed, and enjoyed sex, I simply found my orgasm without Ron.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked, reaching for my hand and pulling me up. He looked at me with a faint smile on his face.

“What? Is my hair a disaster?” I asked when he continued to stare without saying anything.

He shook his head. “No, no, you’re stunning, you know that. No, I just want to remember everything about the moment that you agree to be my wife.”

He flipped open a ring box, a diamond solitaire sparkling in the lowlight of our bedroom. My mouth dropped open as my brain caught up to what he had said.

“What do you reckon, Hermione? Will you make me the happiest man in the world?” He asked, looking every bit like the boy that I had fallen in love with.

We had discussed marriage, of course, we were adults in a monogamous relationship. I wanted to wait until my career was established, to focus on my goals before moving to the next step in our relationship. Ron had seemed fine with that, until Harry had proposed to Ginny several months earlier, and suddenly he had wanted to get engaged desperately.

I looked up from the ring, into his shining eyes and beaming smile, and nodded.

* * *

September 2000

I vaguely remember shaking hands with what felt like everyone in the courtroom, before suddenly finding myself outside of my office, a buzzing in my ears that I couldn’t shake. I had successfully tried my first case as a barrister, after nearly a year of intensive, on-the-job training.

I opened the door with a shaking hand to find Harry anxiously pacing around my office. He looked up when I entered, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Well?”

I nodded, breaking out in a smile, eyes filling with tears at the sight of my best friend. He whooped loudly, and swung me into his arms, squeezing the breath out of me.

“I’m so proud of you! ‘Course, I always knew you could do it, but what an occasion, Hermione! Ginny’ll be thrilled; she’ll want to celebrate of course.”

I wiped my eyes, overwhelmed. “I think I’ll probably just celebrate with a nice bottle of wine at home with Ron tonight.”

His smile faded. “He may be a bit late. Robards has a sticking charm on his desk until he turns in all his overdue paperwork.”

My heart sank. Milestones like my Hogwarts graduation, engagement, and now, my first successful Wizengamot case, always brought the absence of my parents to the forefront of my mind. I wanted to happy cry on my sofa with a bottle of wine, curling into Ron’s arms as my tears of joy turned to tears of loss.

“I’ve been nagging him to catch up. That’s alright, I’m glad Robards is keeping him honest,” I said with a shrug.

Harry gave me another hug and kissed my forehead. “I’m so proud of you, and they would be too. I’ll let Ron and Ginny know, yeah? You just relax, please. You’ve earned it.”

I nodded and watched him leave, closing my office door behind me. I sat behind my desk, pulling a blank memo out of my desk and grabbing my favourite ballpoint pen.

Draco,

I hope you’re not in the middle of something vital, like duelling practice, when this finds you, but I wanted to let you know that I won my first case. I’ll tell you all about it at our next study session, but I wanted you hear it from me.

Yours,
Hermione

I sent the memo to find him, not expecting a response anytime soon. He was nearly finished with his first year of auror training and was doing phenomenally well. I was so proud to see the man he had become; the man he always could be, with the right encouragement. I was so grateful that Harry and Ginny had befriended him; he would need allies in the bureaucratic nightmare that was the auror department. I had just packed up my briefcase for the day when a memo came zooming in, startling me out of my thoughts  

Granger,

I knew you could do it. Your parents would be incredibly proud of the woman you’ve become. Well done, Barrister Granger. I owe you a drink.

Yours Always,

Draco Malfoy

I smiled and read it over several times, before sticking it my desk drawer and making my way home.

Three hours later, I heard Ron’s keys scraping in the lock. I looked up from the book I had been reading on the sofa to see Crookshanks stalk over to him and hiss, before turning tail and wandering into our bedroom.

“Bloody cat,” he said in greeting, pressing a kiss to my lips before plopping down next to me. “Harry told me about your case, well done. Always knew you could do it.”

I smiled, reaching for the bottle of elf-made wine Harry and Ginny had given us for our engagement. “I thought we could celebrate by cracking this open,” I said, tilting the bottle so he could read the label.

“You have it, babe, you know I don’t like wine. Do we still have leftover Chinese? I’m starving, Robards was a slavedriver today,” he moaned.

I poured my self a glass, nodding as I took a sip. “In the fridge. What did he do?” I asked, sympathetically.

* * *

May 2021

Harry fussed with the neck of his dress robes nervously. Ginny swatted his hand away, straightening them again.

“Leave them. You’ll look like you don’t belong to anyone,” she hissed.

“I hate these fucking things, Gin. Why would I want to stand up here and be praised for surviving the worst day of my life?” he said loudly, attracting several curious looks.

“I know, Harry, but people want to celebrate. Unfortunately, you’re the symbol of victory. Only two hours, and then we’ll go home, and I’ll do that thing you like.”

He nodded, perking up slightly. I laughed, well aware of how passionate the Potter marriage was, having walked into Grimmauld unannounced several times and catching them in flagrante. Ron rejoined us, a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Here, babe,” he handed me one. “You look beautiful. The Prophet’s photographer is over there, told him we’d stop by for a picture later. What’s your problem, Harry? You look like you swallowed a bludger.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “You know that we don’t enjoy all this pomp like you do, Ronald. I’d rather not be trotted out like a show pony at these things. There are only so many ways to sanitise a speech about the war: ‘Even though I was tortured, and I watched classmates and friends die, even though I was hunted because of my blood, and we were starving in a tent for months, I’m so happy to be here with you all today.’ No one wants to hear that.”

“Merlin, Hermione. It’s not that bad. They’re throwing a party in our honour, in honour of all of those affected. Plus, it’s an open bar. Although, I think Robards will have to step up security next year,” he nodded towards where Draco was speaking to Headmistress McGonagall and Auror Berrycloth. “They’re letting anyone in, I guess.”

I opened my mouth to defend him, but Harry caught my eye shaking his head. He was right, of course. The last thing we needed tonight was for Ron to find out about Draco’s auror training whilst alcohol was free flowing.

* * *

December 2021

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

My stomach dropped. I turned, only to be stopped by a burly, male forearm blocking my way out of the supply closet.

“Cormac, move your arm or I will remove it for you.”

“Darling don’t be like that. I always wonder what could have happened for us if Weasley hadn’t weaselled himself into your bed,” he said with a lascivious eyebrow raise. “Besides, I couldn’t move if I wanted to. Enchanted mistletoe.”

I looked to where he was pointing. The plant definitely hadn’t been above the closet when I had entered. “Buggering fuck!”

“Now, now, Granger, you wouldn’t kiss me with that mouth, would you?”

“I wouldn’t kiss you if I was on fire and your lips were water,” I hissed.

Cormac rolled his eyes, taking a step closer to me. I refused to take a step backwards into the closet; I would not be maneuvered into an enclosed space with him. I had left my wand at my desk but, as Draco could attest to, I had a nasty right hook. He reached a hand out, presumably to pull me into him, but dropped it as footsteps rounded the corner.

“Merlin, Hermione, where’d you disappear to?” Ron asked, annoyed. “Harry and I have been waiting for you for ten minutes.”

“Sorry, Ronald,” I pointed to the mistletoe. “I’ve been trapped until I kiss someone.”

“Sorry, Weasley, no harm intended, obviously. If it makes you feel better, Granger here was doing her best to resist me,” Cormac winked at him.

“Is that all? Hermione, you couldn’t have kissed him and saved us all some time? Merlin, you’re such a prude,” Ron leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “It’s just McLaggan.”

I grabbed his arm as the mistletoe disappeared with our kiss and allowed him to lead me towards the lift. “I’ve told you before; he makes me uncomfortable.”

Ron rubbed my back comfortingly. “You can be so sensitive sometimes, Hermione.”