Persevere
Title: Persevere
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Ron/Hermione
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 915
Summary: Hermione’s job as Minister of Magic begins to take a toll on her.
A/N: Creating in an attempt to keep sane.
*~*
It was a quarter past midnight when Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, brushing the soot off her robes. She checked in on Rose and Hugo as she made her way through the darkened house. They were sound asleep, tucked into their beds. She wanted nothing more than to shrug off her robes and sleep for a week, but the demands on her never seemed to end. As she reached her bedroom, she noticed the light under the door. She turned the doorknob and slipped inside, careful not to wake the children. Ron had fallen asleep on top of their bed, still fully clothed and with the wireless turned onto a Sport broadcast. She smiled at the sight of him before pointing her wand at the wireless to switch it off. Ron began to stir as she hung up her cloak in their wardrobe.
"Er-my-knee,” Ron mumbled. “What time izzit?”
"Late," she said. "Go back to sleep."
Ron sat up and looked blearily at his watch. "Did you just get home?"
Hermione nodded. "I was in conference with President Cordero of MACUSA all day. Apparently, the American Muggles elected a complete numpty as their president. Traditionally, MACUSA and their Muggle counterparts govern separately. The Muggle government doesn’t know MACUSA exists. However, President Cordero has received intelligence that there might be one or more Dark Wizards working within his midst. Apparently, his election took the Muggles by surprise, and some of his positions..." She rubbed her forehead.
"Hermione?"
"Let's just say her concerns raised alarms with me. If there are Dark Wizards involved, the Americans are going to need some guidance. I'm going to send an owl to Kingsley in the morning and see if he will meet with me this week. He's dealt with this situation before, but it’ll be tricky for the Americans since MACUSA doesn’t have any sort of authorization to act.”
Ron took her hand in his. "What does Harry have to say about all this?"
"He was out of the office today. I'll brief him tomorrow. It's troubling, but it isn't an imminent threat to the Ministry. It's just..." She shook her head. "Sometimes it all seems futile, doesn't it?"
"Now, that doesn't sound like you at all," he said. "Are you hungry? Let's have a toastie, yeah?"
Hermione let him pull her along into the kitchen. "I'm really not hungry, Ron."
"No?" Ron said, as he Summoned ingredients from all over the kitchen. "I'm famished."
"When aren't you?" she asked with an exasperated smile.
He charmed knives to cut slices of cheese and tomato while he slathered butter on slices of bread. Then he levitated the cheese, tomato and ham sandwich into a thick, iron pan. Hermione's stomach rumbled, and Ron grinned. Once the toastie had reached golden perfection, he slid it onto a plate and set it in front of her.
She took a bite, savoring the cheesy, buttery mouthful. Ron Summoned two bottles of Butterbeer and then sat down with his own toastie.
"Tell me what's really going on with you, love," he said, picking up his sandwich. "Why do you say it seems futile?"
"I keep thinking of Snape."
Ron stopped mid-bite. "Snape?"
"Yes, do you remember when he said fighting the Dark Arts was like fighting a many-headed monster, which sprouts a head each time one is severed?"
"Of course, I don't, but go on."
She rolled her eyes. "Well my job is a lot like that, isn't it? I have to constantly evaluate threats to the magical community. There are always people looking to be the next Voldemort or Grindlewald. It never stops."
"And yet you go on. You and Harry." Ron said. "Hermione, you are the bravest, most compassionate person I know. As long as there's injustice in this world, I know you'll be there to fight it. And we'll always be there to support you. I might be a little rusty in battle, but you know I’d be right alongside you if you needed me."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Ron."
“Now, go on to bed while I clean up here,” he said, kissing her on the forehead and picking up her plate. “Don’t argue. You haven’t slept well in a week, and I know you’ll be up at some ridiculous hour.”
Hermione nodded. “Five o’clock.”
“Off to bed, then, my love,” he said.
Hermione took the plates out of his hands and put them on the table. “All right then.”
She slid her arms up around his neck. Threading her fingers into his hair, she kissed him slowly. He responded with his usual enthusiasm, which made her smile. She could endure a lot if she could end every day like this, with a simple dinner and a snog with this gorgeous man. She spent too many nights holed up in her home office working on policy or brainstorming a solution to a new problem while Ron took care of everything else.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said against his lips.
“I’m entirely certain that’s not true,” he said, laughing. “Not a day goes by that I don’t remember I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
She touched his cheek and smiled. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he said.
She returned to their bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She was already drifting off to sleep when Ron came in and got changed for bed himself. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was feeling his arms around her. This, she remembered, was why she persevered.
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Ron/Hermione
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 915
Summary: Hermione’s job as Minister of Magic begins to take a toll on her.
A/N: Creating in an attempt to keep sane.
*~*
It was a quarter past midnight when Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, brushing the soot off her robes. She checked in on Rose and Hugo as she made her way through the darkened house. They were sound asleep, tucked into their beds. She wanted nothing more than to shrug off her robes and sleep for a week, but the demands on her never seemed to end. As she reached her bedroom, she noticed the light under the door. She turned the doorknob and slipped inside, careful not to wake the children. Ron had fallen asleep on top of their bed, still fully clothed and with the wireless turned onto a Sport broadcast. She smiled at the sight of him before pointing her wand at the wireless to switch it off. Ron began to stir as she hung up her cloak in their wardrobe.
"Er-my-knee,” Ron mumbled. “What time izzit?”
"Late," she said. "Go back to sleep."
Ron sat up and looked blearily at his watch. "Did you just get home?"
Hermione nodded. "I was in conference with President Cordero of MACUSA all day. Apparently, the American Muggles elected a complete numpty as their president. Traditionally, MACUSA and their Muggle counterparts govern separately. The Muggle government doesn’t know MACUSA exists. However, President Cordero has received intelligence that there might be one or more Dark Wizards working within his midst. Apparently, his election took the Muggles by surprise, and some of his positions..." She rubbed her forehead.
"Hermione?"
"Let's just say her concerns raised alarms with me. If there are Dark Wizards involved, the Americans are going to need some guidance. I'm going to send an owl to Kingsley in the morning and see if he will meet with me this week. He's dealt with this situation before, but it’ll be tricky for the Americans since MACUSA doesn’t have any sort of authorization to act.”
Ron took her hand in his. "What does Harry have to say about all this?"
"He was out of the office today. I'll brief him tomorrow. It's troubling, but it isn't an imminent threat to the Ministry. It's just..." She shook her head. "Sometimes it all seems futile, doesn't it?"
"Now, that doesn't sound like you at all," he said. "Are you hungry? Let's have a toastie, yeah?"
Hermione let him pull her along into the kitchen. "I'm really not hungry, Ron."
"No?" Ron said, as he Summoned ingredients from all over the kitchen. "I'm famished."
"When aren't you?" she asked with an exasperated smile.
He charmed knives to cut slices of cheese and tomato while he slathered butter on slices of bread. Then he levitated the cheese, tomato and ham sandwich into a thick, iron pan. Hermione's stomach rumbled, and Ron grinned. Once the toastie had reached golden perfection, he slid it onto a plate and set it in front of her.
She took a bite, savoring the cheesy, buttery mouthful. Ron Summoned two bottles of Butterbeer and then sat down with his own toastie.
"Tell me what's really going on with you, love," he said, picking up his sandwich. "Why do you say it seems futile?"
"I keep thinking of Snape."
Ron stopped mid-bite. "Snape?"
"Yes, do you remember when he said fighting the Dark Arts was like fighting a many-headed monster, which sprouts a head each time one is severed?"
"Of course, I don't, but go on."
She rolled her eyes. "Well my job is a lot like that, isn't it? I have to constantly evaluate threats to the magical community. There are always people looking to be the next Voldemort or Grindlewald. It never stops."
"And yet you go on. You and Harry." Ron said. "Hermione, you are the bravest, most compassionate person I know. As long as there's injustice in this world, I know you'll be there to fight it. And we'll always be there to support you. I might be a little rusty in battle, but you know I’d be right alongside you if you needed me."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Ron."
“Now, go on to bed while I clean up here,” he said, kissing her on the forehead and picking up her plate. “Don’t argue. You haven’t slept well in a week, and I know you’ll be up at some ridiculous hour.”
Hermione nodded. “Five o’clock.”
“Off to bed, then, my love,” he said.
Hermione took the plates out of his hands and put them on the table. “All right then.”
She slid her arms up around his neck. Threading her fingers into his hair, she kissed him slowly. He responded with his usual enthusiasm, which made her smile. She could endure a lot if she could end every day like this, with a simple dinner and a snog with this gorgeous man. She spent too many nights holed up in her home office working on policy or brainstorming a solution to a new problem while Ron took care of everything else.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said against his lips.
“I’m entirely certain that’s not true,” he said, laughing. “Not a day goes by that I don’t remember I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
She touched his cheek and smiled. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he said.
She returned to their bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She was already drifting off to sleep when Ron came in and got changed for bed himself. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was feeling his arms around her. This, she remembered, was why she persevered.