A Single Moment

“Okay,” Harry said after Ginny had shut the door and returned to her seat. “I have a-”

“Hold it,” said Fred, looking uncharacteristically serious. “We have a bone to pick with you.”

“Too right,” George agreed, scowling at Harry.

Harry and Ginny both looked at the twins, shocked. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“You know too well what’s wrong,” George said sourly. “If you’re going to be late meeting with us, you could at least have it be for a reason other than shagging our baby sister.”

Harry flushed bright red, but Ginny scowled at her brothers. “If you expect me to be embarrassed about shagging my husband, who I’m very glad is alive after last night, you’re going to be severely disappointed.”

“You looked amazing spread out on the table, Ginn,” Harry said in a mock-whisper; he and Ginny both laughed when Fred and George yanked their hands off the table with identical looks of revulsion.

“Are you two finished?” Ginny asked pointedly.

“So long as you two are,” Fred replied grumblingly.

“Fine,” Harry said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I have a list here I want you two to look at,” he said to the twins, passing over a sheet of parchment.

Fred and George scanned over the list. “I don’t know what most of this is,” Fred admitted finally.

“Me either,” George said.

“That’s because they’re muggle inventions,” Harry said. “I want you to read up on these so you know what they do-”

“But Harry,” George said, “muggle stuff doesn’t work around magic, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry agreed, nodding. “I want you two to see if you can figure out how to duplicate the effects of these things magically. You’re the most creative with magic of anyone in the D.A. – if anyone can figure it out you can.”

“Oh, stop,” Fred said coquettishly, pretending to blush.

“No, do go on,” George countered, leaning in and gazing at Harry avidly. “What else do you love about us, Harry?”

“The incredible way in which I’m certain you’ll dedicate yourself to this,” Harry answered wryly. “Any questions?”

“How exactly do they need to duplicate the effect?” George asked.

“And what sort of effects are we talking about?” Fred added.

“I want them to achieve the same results, but they don’t necessarily have to duplicate what happens exactly, I suppose,” Harry replied after a moment’s thought. “And as to what sort of effects…well, some of them are just prank-level, but some are life-threatening. They’re all chaos-causing, so I figured this would be right up your alley.”

“Ah, chaos: one of our twelve favorite words,” Fred said dreamily.

“Dare we ask what the other eleven are?” Harry enquired.

“Well, there’s prank, of course…”

“Pratfall-”

“Mayhem-”

“Mischief and trouble-”

“Detention, because it means we did the first six right-”

“Galleon, only don’t tell mum-”

“Impossible, because we are, but nothing else is-”

“Poo, a perennial holdover-”

“Quidditch, naturally-”

“And blowjob.” Fred glanced at Ginny and reddened a bit. “Er…”

“That’s okay, Fred,” Ginny said sweetly. “That’s one of my favorite words too.”

“Oh, I did not need to know that,” George said, looking a bit sick.

“That’s what you get for reciting that list,” Ginny replied with a not-so-innocent smile.

“I’m kind of sorry I asked about them,” Harry admitted. “Fred, George, are you okay with this?”

“Sure,” Fred said, clearly anxious to return to the subject. He picked up the list again. “Uh, how secret is this?”

“Not terribly, except that we don’t want Voldemort getting any hints of what we’re up to if we can help it,” said Harry. “I think it’s safe to talk about it with other D.A. members, although I don’t think any of them will care, or even understand.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” George said with waggle of his eyebrows. “Lee will probably beg to help with this.”

“He’s the one who suggested we start selling muggle gags,” Fred added.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, surprised. “Well, if he wants to help that’s fine, but make sure he remembers that this shouldn’t leave the D.A.”

“What about Pansy?” Fred asked.

“Pansy?” Harry repeated, gobsmacked.

“Hey, you said she was the one who figured out how to make the Ton-Tongue trick a castable hex,” George said. “She may be a stuck-up pureblood, but we respect that sort of genius at causing six of our twelve favorite words.”

“Uh…”Harry glanced over at Ginny, who looked equally surprised; she shrugged. “It’s fine if she wants to help too,” Harry told the twins. “but it’s the same as with Lee; it’s not a big secret, but I don’t think it should be spread around either, even to each other, okay?” Fred and George both nodded. “Good.” Harry twisted his neck so he could read Ginny’s watch. “We have to go join Hermione and Ron, and meet with Ernie. Can you two give me an update in a week?”

“Sure thing,” Fred said, standing up, and they all followed suit. “But you two leave first; we don’t want you getting up to anything else in here.”

“Fine; Ginny, let’s stop at our room for a quick…what was that favorite word again?” Harry asked Fred innocently.

“I’m really praying it’s ‘Quidditch’,” George muttered.

“That sounds like fun,” Ginny agreed readily. “And the word was-”

“Aah!” Covering their ears, Fred and George ran for it. Laughing, Harry and Ginny collected their things and headed up to Hermione and Ron’s room.

*****

Ron kicked the door shut and carried Hermione over to the bed. “I need to cast those Charms on the room,” Hermione said as he set her down.

“Right,” Ron said. “Er…what should I do?”

“Just find a spot and don’t move.” After hesitating a moment, Ron sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of Hermione. She smiled at him and drew her wand. “This will probably look a little weird,” she warned him. “The Charms can create optical illusions. If it starts causing a headache, close your eyes.” Ron nodded to show he understood, and Hermione began casting the Charms.

Ron was hardly the most skilled wizard, but he knew enough to recognize that the Charms Hermione was casting were immensely difficult. And yet, Hermione didn’t seem to be having trouble with them – in fact, from the description he’d gotten of the first time she’d cast the Charms, he wondered if it wasn’t easier for her this time around. Well, maybe it got easier after the firs time.

After about fifteen minutes of solid casting, Hermione’s wand arm sagged wearily; Ron was on his feet and at her side in a heartbeat. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

Hermione started with a little squeak. “Ron, don’t do that- my eyes were closed, I didn’t know you were there!”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Er…are you okay?”

“Fine,” Hermione replied shortly. “Just tired, but that’s hardly a surprise, is it?”

Ron was quick to admit he was thick, but he still noticed the suppressed bitterness in Hermione’s voice – bitterness, and fear. “Hermione, we can start looking for a way to cure you first thing tomorrow-”

“Oh, don’t be absurd, Ron,” Hermione snapped. “There is no cure, or weren’t you listening to the Healers?”

“But- but you cured me…”

“We got lucky,” Hermione said flatly, looking down at her hands. “But what’s been done to me…it’s not some obscure hex, it’s very well-known. Before it was banned people were using it for decades, and others were searching for the counter-Charm just as long. If they didn’t find it, we’re not going to find it.”

“That’s what you said to Luna about Neville’s parents,” Ron replied, feeling a bit irritated. “Look, we have to at least try-”

“There are more important things to focus on than curing me,” Hermione interrupted.

“No there aren’t!” Ron shot back, his voice rising in anger. “Why’re you talking like you’re some kind of lost-cause bed patient for the rest of your life? You’re not-”

Ron’s voice froze in his throat when he looked back at Hermione. She was leaning away from him as far as she could, cringing as if she thought he was going to lash out at her. “Wh-what is it?” he asked, stepping forward.

“Don’t!” Hermione squeaked, trying to crawl backward across the bed; her weak arms didn’t want to support her. “Just stay over there! If- if you…”

“Hermione, why are you acting like that?” Ron asked helplessly. Hermione’s whole body was shaking from fear. Shaking… “Is this about what Scrimgeour did?” Ron growled furiously. “About what I did to him? He might’ve hurt you, what was I supposed to do?”

“He was hurting me!” Hermione cried out desperately. “And then you-”

Ron gaped at Hermione as she managed to pull herself away from Ron; suddenly remembering that she was holding her wand, she pointed it at Ron, who didn’t even think to move, he was so stunned. “You think that what I did to Scrimgeour, I could do to you,” he muttered in shock.

“Y-y-you could,” Hermione gasped. “And I’m so weak now…”

Ron’s legs literally wouldn’t support him any longer, and he fell down on his knees; one of them hit the wood floor hard, but he didn’t even notice. He stared at Hermione without being able to speak for over a minute before managing to get out “I couldn’t do that.”

“Yes you could,” Hermione whispered. “Oh Ron, I know I’m not- not-”

“No, Hermione,” Ron interrupted quietly. “I couldn’t do that. I’m not capable of it, any more than I could cut off my own head.” To his embarrassment, Ron felt tears prickling his eyes. “I can’t believe you’d think I could do that to you!”

Hermione stared at Ron for a long time. Then her wand fell, her face broke open and she began to sob. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “Ron, I’m so sorry…”

Ron crawled over and took Hermione’s hand. She threw her arms around him, still crying. “Shh, it’s all right,” Ron muttered vaguely, trying to hug her and not constrain her at the same time.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t t-trust you, I’m sorry I went last night, I’m sorry- I’m sorry I can’t be the wife you wanted me to be,” she moaned. “I d-don’t want to lose you!’ she blubbered, and her cries redoubled.

“Lose me? What’re you on about?” Ron demanded.

“I can’t be who you wanted to marry any longer,” Hermione said wetly. “I’ll never be able to have ch-children like this, I’ll n-never dance with you or be a decent b-bed-mate…” She tore away from Ron as best she could and fumblingly pulled the engagement ring off her finger. “Here,” she wailed, dropping the ring into Ron’s lap, “You might as well take it back, for all it means to us now!”

Ron stared at the ring. Then, slowly, he picked it up; he held the ring up between them and looked into Hermione’s eyes. “That’s the second time you’ve tried to give me back this ring,” Ron whispered. “Do you want to marry me or not?”

“I- of c-course I do, but you can’t possibly still want-”

“Don’t tell me that I don’t still want to marry you,” Ron blurted out, unable to keep his anger in check. “You don’t know that just because you can’t do that physical stuff, I don’t want to! You haven’t even bothered to ask me what I want, how could you know?”

Fine!” Hermione said, changing moods instantly and matching Ron’s anger with her own. “Fine! What do you want?”

Ron was startled; he hadn’t expected to be asked. “Uh…”

“You see? You don’t even know what you want!”

"No, I don’t know! I'm only seventeen, I haven't figured out my whole bloody life yet! All I'm sure of is that I want to live through the war, and marry you! That's it, that's as far as I've gotten! I'm sorry if it isn't all planned and measured and calculated and figured out to your satisfaction!"

Hermione stared wide-eyed at Ron, her anger and sorrow momentarily forgotten. “But- but if-”

“You think the only reason I care about you is to shag, is that it?” Ron said, sounding angry and hurt.

“Children, Ron!” Hermione cried. “I c-can’t ever give you children!”

“Says who?” Ron countered. “Maybe it’s still possible, or did the Healers tell you it wasn’t?” Hermione’s silence answered for her. “And even if it turns out it’s not, then we could still, I dunno, adopt or something…”

“But- but you’re a pureblood,” Hermione whispered shamefacedly. “If- if you don’t…I mean, not that I’m…anyway…”

“Hey, I’ve known you were muggle-born since I met you, and I still proposed, remember?” Ron pointed out. “My family’s never cared about that stuff and you know it! And even if we did, Fred’s serious with Angelina, and George is with Luna, and they’re both purebloods. Charlie’s seeing this girl in Romania who’s so pureblooded she’d be in line for the royal throne if she was a muggle. And Ginny’s with Harry – he may not be a pureblood, but the Potter family is as old as mine, maybe older.”

“But if you marry me…you won’t be able to continue the Weasley bloodline,” Hermione said sadly.

Ron snorted. “So what? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the only Weasley of my generation.” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh weakly at that. “It’d be a bloody miracle if none of the Weasley children had a kid. Bill’s married already, and I’d bet money he’s a dad inside a year. Percy, the great prat, is probably going to marry that girl he was dating and churn out a few too, although who knows if they’ll count as Weasleys. Ginny will end up with kids too – although if it’s too soon I’ll have to kill Harry on principle. And if mum’s Curses are any good, Fred and George will each have at least two sons that’re twice the trouble they were. The line’ll continue with or without my help.”

“But- but children of your own…”

“Honestly, ‘mione, I’m not that fussed about children,” Ron admitted. “Even if you can’t have kids, and we don’t adopt, I’d still be okay. I’ll let my brothers and Ginny do that; I’ll be happy to be the favorite uncle - well, I will be if you’re the favorite aunt.” He held up the ring. “I only think I can ask this one more time: do you want to marry me?”

Hermione nodded frantically. “Yes, of course!”

Ron took Hermione’s hand and slipped the ring back on her finger. “So this time, promise me you’ll leave it on. Because if you take it off again I don’t think I’m going to be able to handle it.” He looked back up at Hermione and reached out to brush some new tears off her cheeks. "I know my life isn't going to be everything I ever wanted or expected it to be; but most of it, I don't care, I can do without. The only things I'm not willing to give up are actually getting to live, and you. Everything else – anything else – is just an add-on."

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I- I don’t deserve you,” she whispered absolutely elated.

“I think you have that back to front,” Ron countered. “I’m not exactly a catch, am I?” He held up a hand to stop Hermione’s protests. “Look, just…just promise that you won’t give up on yourself, okay? From what Harry told me you never gave up on bringing me back, so I’m not going to give up on curing you, and neither should you. We’ll figure something out. And even if we don’t…I dunno, but we’ll still make it work, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione agreed softly, cupping Ron’s face in her hands. She leaned over and kissed him, just a light brush of her salty lips on his. “I swear to you, Ron, that I will not give up, and that I will not remove this ring in doubt of your love ever again. Whether I like it or not, I’m stuck with you,” she said a bit teasingly, and seeing his indignant expression added “And I do like it. I love it: I love you.”