The Centaur Clan

Epilogue

Ron slides the empty glass towards the bartender. "Hit me with another, Tom."

"Sir, you've already had six, and these aren't shots, they're full glasses. I highly don't reccomend-"

Ron lifts his tired eyes to Tom's face. He'd been here for hours, drowning his sorrows in the richest of alcoholic beverages that were displayed around the bar. "Look, Tom. You're a great man who's trying to look out for others, and I get that, I really, truly do, but you have no idea where my tolerance level is. Are you hearing me right now? I'm talking like Hermione, which means I'm not that drunk yet. Hit me with another one."

Tom eyes him thoughtfully, before disappearing, and coming back with a full new glass with an amber colored liquid filling it to the top. Ron slides over two sickles and gives Tom a wry smile, who turns away to a stack of glasses. A familiar mane of vibrant red hair slides into the bar stool besides Ron, and the feminine voice of Ginny Weasley requests a firewhisky on ice from Tom.

"I take it you and Hermione talked?" Ginny says, and Ron shoots her a glare.

"No, dear sister, I'm here because I enjoy getting drunk in bars that smell like rat poop and have firewhisky that tastes like it was made the year Nicholas Flamel was born." Ron says, draining the glass and sliding it back towards Tom with a loud belch.

Ginny raises her eyebrow at his burp. "That was weak, brother." She says, and hits her chest before letting out a large belch that makes Ron smirk with approval. "But what I'm more concerned with, is your relationship with your best friends. And your emotional status."

"Allow me to make it clear for you then. Hello, my name is Ronald Weasley, and I have recently lost my best friends, and sustained a broken heart, as well as a half drunken state." He waves his hand towards himself.

"Why do you have to be like this? Is it so hard to just be happy for your best friends?"

Ron's glare shoots daggers at her. "And what? Leave, just like you are?"

Ginny scoffs. "That's not what I was suggesting, but you're welcome to accompany me."

Ron answers her with a cold silence, and drains yet another glass, passing it back to Tom. "Look, Gin. I'm not going to be upset forever, alright? I'm just giving myself time to get over this, because I bloody deserve it. I've gone through hell, and so have you, when they went missing, and then sent us those piece of crap letters, and I think I deserve this. I deserve time, and I deserve a good life, because I love the both of them, and I've given parts of my life up for them, and now I feel somewhat betrayed after what happened. I know it's not their fault, Ginny, but right now I don't care." He reaches into his pocket and drops a fistful of money onto the counter. "Thanks for the drinks Tom."

* * *

It was cold by the time Harry finally arrived at the doorstep of Hermione's house. The windows had a hint of frost like dampness creeping into the corners, temporarily fogging a small part of the view. As she waitied, Hermione sat in Ron's chair- the one he would sit in while she made dinner, and the one where he would sit as he routinely called out "Hermione Granger! Did you know that I'm in love with you?" every night as she cooked.

She still remembered the first night he'd said it.

Hermione rushed back to the stove, hurrying to stir the pan and blowing on the pot that was boiling over with hot foam. She turned down the heat and placed a lid over the pan. She'd decided, as a special treat, to make Ron's favorite meal for dinner- the one his mum had always cooked for him on his birthday.

"Hermione?"

Ron was home, and the food was yet to be finished- she groaned inside. She'd wanted it done and set out before he'd come home, for she knew that he would recognize the smell instantly and it would no longer be the surprise she'd wished.

"I'm in the kitchen." She says, her voice leaving a faint trail of defeat.

He enters, and a smile breaks onto his face as the smell wafts into his nose, his beam going ear to ear as he looked at her. "You didn't."

Hermione lets out a small laugh. "I did, but I wanted it done before you came home." She gives him a light shove. "You're early."

He swoops down and kisses her on the cheek. "It doesn't matter, I love it all the same. Do you need help?"

She shakes her head. "No, I want to make your birthday dinner by myself. It'll make it more special." She prods him out of the kitchen. "Now go sit in your little chair and wonder what other surprises I've made you while I put the rolls in."

After a moment, Hermione hears him settle down into the chair, and she hears his sigh of content. "Hermione Granger!" He calls out in a sudden outburst. "Did you know that I'm in love with you?"

She feels the blush creep into her cheeks, and she convinces herself it was from the heat of the kitchen- he'd said he loved her many times before. But this time it felt more special.

Harry's knock on the door shakes her from her past, and she gets to her feet, feeling the hem of her dress brush around her knees. She grasps the doorknob and pulls, beaming as she sees his face.

"Well, that's not fair." Harry says, and Hermione frowns.

"What's not fair?"

He holds out his arm and she takes it as he explains. "I wanted to show you tonight, that I can hold a good conversation with you despite my feelings."

She lets out a laugh that's bright and happy, one he had long since missed.