Long Time Since

Long Time Since

by Luthién

Author's Note: This little beauty came to my mind when I was listening through my old 90's CD's. It was a spur-of-the-moment inspiration and I hope you'll like it!

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Ron was completely exhausted by the time he arrived at The Burrow. True, it had been a great opportunity to go and play Quidditch professionally in Australia and the United States. Basically, he had been airbourne for the entire three years he had been gone, the Australian season starting right at the end of the American one and vice versa. It was only after his terrible collision with Walker, Chaser for the opposite team, and a two-week stay in his team's infirmary, that Ron's Captain suggested he take a season's rest and recover from the severe concussion and rib fractures he had suffered.


When he had left, it hadn't been without a fight. His parents had absolutely refused to see why their son couldn't start a career at the Ministry of Magic, or join his brothers in their joke shop. Hermione, with whom he had been going steady since sixth year, had a more than hard time comprehending why her long-time boyfriend would prefer playing Quidditch, sleeping in bunk beds with the rest of his team, using group showers and being on the road for months to living with her in a neat flat near London, getting a steady job and eventually popping the question. She felt abandoned and second-best, and when he had declared that he was definitely taking this chance, she had point-blank refused to see him anymore.


Ron had incredibly enjoyed the time with his teammates, the constant tension of the matches, the interviews and photographs and also the fans who kept begging him for an autograph constantly. It hadn't been until he had regained consciousness at the hospital that he had thought of Hermione again.


Now that he was at The Burrow, however, his need to find out how she was doing and what she was up to grew stronger by the minute. Considering what might happen, evaluating his feelings for his long-time school girlfriend and checking the watch to make sure that he would not miss dinner at Harry and Ginny's later on, he determinedly Apparated to the corner of the street where they had once said so many snogging goodbyes.


Nothing seemed to have changed.


The brick houses were still the same colour. The flowers in the front yards were as beautiful as he remembered them, having once picked a rose from one of them to give to Hermione for their anniversary.


Ron fell into step towards the purple door of house no. 15, where Hermione had lived three years ago.


I come to your door to see you again


Looking up at the windows, he paused, frowning. The curtains were different. Hermione had always liked them in sun colours, bright yellow and orange, as to bathe the room in happy light whenever they were closed.


The curtains were different. Dark green and brownish-beige in colour. Ron shook his head, double-checking the number of the house he was looking at.


15.


As he stood there wondering what could have caused her change in colour choice, he realized he was being watched. The door had opened noiselessly, and a balding man with a thin grey moustache was looking at him curiously.


But where you once stood was an old man instead


'Can I help you?', the man asked kindly. Ron stuttered, apparently lost for words, for a minute before pulling himself together.


'Yes, actually, sir', he tried his best to be polite. 'You see, my girlfriend... she lived here three years ago. Name's Hermione. Some brilliant girl. I was hoping to see her. I've been out of the country for some time now', he added, desperate to make a good impression on the stranger and get all the news he could.


Where was Hermione?


'Ah, you mean Miss Granger?', the man laughed. 'I remember her, she allowed me in here a month earlier that I had agreed on with the proprietor. Lucky for me back then, you know. Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you where she is now. I moved in here about two and a half years ago, and she only gave me her mobile number back then. You could try it, but you know how people change their mobile numbers every other week nowadays...'


'Yes, thank you, that would be great', Ron impatiently cut across the man's words.


I asked where you'd be, he said "she's moved, on you see
All I have is a number you'd better ask her not me"


Half an hour later Ron was back at The Burrow, pacing frantically in front of the fireplace. He should have unpacked his stuff and started some laundry, he knew, but he couldn't focus. He should have gotten some rest, as the doctors at the hospital had advised him to, but he couldn't stop.


One hand clutched his mobile, the other the piece of paper the old man had given him. On it, in Hermione's neat, thin writing, were twelve small digits, her mobile number. These digits were his one and only hope of seeing her, ever, again.


Hand shaking, he began to dial, then took a deep breath and held the phone up to his ear.


So I picked up the phone and dialed your number
Not sure to put it down or speak


After four rings which seemed like an eternity, a female voice answered. She had a slight lisp, but this only made her sound unique.


“Hello?“


Then a voice I once knew answered in a sweet voice
She said hello then paused before I began to speak


Ron swallowed. Hard. He couldn't believe his ears. She hadn't changed her mobile number every other week. She had stuck with this one. Had she counted on him to reappear, was that why she had given the old man her number?


“Hello?“, she said again, sounding impatient this time.


'It's me', he managed. 'I've come back. Hermione, why did you move? Where are you now?'


Babe I'm here again, I tell you I'm here again
Where have you been?
Babe, I'm back again, I tell you I'm back again
Where have you been?


He hadn't planned on saying all of this so quickly, it just sort of came out once he opened his mouth. He hadn't heard her gasp when she realised who she was talking to. But he could tell, from the way she choked out his name, that she was overwhelmed to say the least.


“I've left for a reason“, she explained. “I didn't think you'd ever come back. I needed to distance myself. From our past. From... everyting. I left. I even left England. I couldn't stand it, Ron...“


You held your voice well, there were tears I could tell


Ron knew she was sobbing. How did women manage to talk coherently while they were crying? He sure as hell couldn't even think straight when he as much as had tears in his eyes. We're not talking downright bawling here – just a few stupid tears...


'Hermione, where are you? I need to see you. I can't stand this. I'm so so sorry... I shouldn't have left... I want to be near you. I have to tell you so much about what I did and saw! I ended up in hospital a few weeks ago and I just knew I had to come home to you...'


But where were you now? Was you gonna tell me in time?
Just give me a town and I'll be straight down
Got so much to tell you about where I have been


In the end, she gave in. She had moved to Aviemore. Scotland. Had bought a house there after her parents' deaths.


Her parents had died? He hadn't even known...


She had given him the address, inviting him for tea the next afternoon. Which was OK with Ron, because he already had plans for the night and wouldn't want to miss dinner at his sister's, not when she was married to one of the top Aurors in Britain, who happened to be his best friend, but was also incredibly proud of their first child who still had to meet his uncle. Ron figured that not turning up there would be considered suicide.


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The next day, Ron was strangely restless. His parents noticed, as well as his brothers. Even Harry and Ginny hat noted something was off about him, but neither of them had a clue as to why.


They probably thought he was suffering from jetlag.

Bless them.


By the time it was finally time to leave, Ron was a nervous wreck. He hadn't felt like this since the night of the Yule Ball when he had been forced to enter the Great Hall looking like he was wrapped in some enormous frilly rug. He actually Flooed to a small wizarding pub in Aviemore, no longer trusting his Apparition skills.


Once he was there, he thought it seemed right. All of it. He had to stop himself from breaking into a run to find Hermione's house.


As I walk down your road, can't wait to be near you
Can't keep the feeling in inside


She must have waited for him to arrive, for as soon as he skidded to a halt in front of her gate, panting, she opened the door and smiled down at him.


'Hi, Ron', was all she said. She only looked at him curiously, waiting.


As I stand at your door you answered in a sweet voice
You said hello then pause before I begin to speak

Babe I'm here again, I tell you I'm here again
Where have you been?
Babe, I'm back again, I tell you I'm back again
Where have you been?


Ron looked like a deer that had been caught in the headlights. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He devoured her with his eyes, the girl he had once loved, hell, he still loved, whom he had abandoned for some stupid career amongst sweaty men, obnoxious reporters and giggling fans.


He had been such an idiot!!!


She was beautiful. She no longer was the slender 20-year-old he had remembered while he was in hospital. She had filled out around the hips, her breasts seemed to curve even more than before. Her face was smooth, she had finally grown into her features. Her hair was just as messy and unruly as it once was, and his fingers itched with the desire to bury themselves in the curls.


There were a few tiny lines around her eyes that could not be attributed to laughter, though. She had been sad. At least at certain times.


He felt his heart go out to her. Why hadn't he been there? He had been such an IDIOT!!!


They were still looking at each other in silence. When Ron couldn't take it anymore, he cast his eyes around and did a double take.


Behind Hermione's right leg stood someone.


A kid.


A little boy.


He was peering round her leg, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who had kept Hermione at the door for so long.


Just as I looked away, I saw a face behind you
A little boy stood at your door


'Oh, sorry', Hermione turned towards the kid and lifted the boy into her arms.
'Mummy will be back inside shortly, Josh. I'd just like you to meet somebody. He's a very old friend of mine. Do you remember, I've told you he might come to visit someday...'


Josh smiled and hugged his mother. He cuddled his little head into the crook of her neck and grinned in Ron's direction.


And as I looked again I saw his face was shining


Ron gasped.


He had just looked into eyes so brilliantly blue it felt like looking into a mirror.


He had received that famous Weasley smile that his mother and aunts could go on about for hours at a time when looking at old photographs of him as a child.


He had my eyes, he had my smile


'Hermione... you... he... I...', he stuttered.


She looked at him with an apologetic shrug.
'I didn't know I was pregnant until a week after you'd left. I was so angry... I was so confused... I kept hoping against hope that you'd return... everybody was trying to convince me to write to you, but I wanted to wait until you returned out of free will... I didn't believe you would ever do that...'


He had stepped up and was looking directly into her eyes. When he saw that she was on the verge of crying, he raised his hand and stroked her cheek softly with two fingers.


'Hush, babe', he whispered. 'I'm here now and I'm never leaving you again...'


As he stepped closer, as their lips met, he felt Josh's little hand on his shoulder. He smiled.


'Come on, son, let's get you inside and get to know you!'


Babe I'm here again, I tell you I'm here again
Where have you been?
Babe, I'm back again, I tell you I'm back again



Another Author's Note:
Well, what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Too soppy? Please review! :-)