A/N: On this, the third anniversary of the original posting of this story, I present to you fine readers the long-overdue and final chapter of "Meet My Muggle." Enjoy.

Chapter 24

City of Love

"France!" Ginny had cornered Tom in his bedroom, eyes ablaze. The "party" had ended an hour earlier, though Ron had left as soon as Tom had accepted Hermione's travel invitation; both events were much to Hermione's ostensible relief. Harry and Ginny had watched in silence as Hermione had animatedly explained the details of the trip, down to the exact room in which she and Tom would be staying at the hotel; she had proceeded to apologize profusely to Harry for having cut their visit short.

"I thought you said you weren't going to sabotage-"

"I'm not," Tom interjected, the gears in his head spinning recklessly. "I have a plan . . ." Well, I will, in time.

"You'd better," Ginny snarled threateningly, backing away, as if afraid she might hit him if she stayed any longer. As she spun and left, slamming the door behind her, Tom could hear her seething mutterings of, "He'd better . . . taking him to the city of love . . . not what I'd hoped for at all."

Tom fell back on his bed with a groan. He didn't even possess the beginnings of a "plan."

"Tom?" His blood pressure rocketed when Hermione's voice met his ears. In the quarter hour since Ginny had left, he had made no headway whatsoever.

"Come in," he called wearily, throwing one arm over his eyes as the door creaked open.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, the bed whining as she sat down next to him, placing a tentative hand on his arm

"I'm fine," Tom assured her. Hermione didn't respond, but he could feel her stare. With a dramatic sigh, he whipped his arm away from his face, sitting up to look at her. "Why are we going to France?"

Hermione blinked at him. "I thought you liked France. When we went there the summer before last-"

"No, I mean, why are we going to France instead of staying here, with your friends?"

Hermione shifted nervously under his penetrating gaze but managed to angle her chin defiantly. "You can't take too much time off work, and this is my birthday present to you. We're cutting our visit here short because I thought you would want to go back to Paris."

Seeing the desperate, hurt look in his friend's eyes, Tom's aggressive, interrogative physiognomy faded into something more compassionate. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Ron, would it?" he inquired softly.

"Of course not!" Hermione barked. Tom raised his eyebrows at her sharp response. "I'm doing this for you," she repeated helplessly. "It's your birthday, and all I got you otherwise was a book-"

"Which I loved, by the way. We don't have to leave just because it's my birthday; I'm having enough fun as it is. Besides, you probably want to stay and keep catching up with Harry and Ron and Ginny."

A look of realization crossed Hermione's face, and she nodded. "You could ask Ginny if she wants to join-"

"We broke up, so to speak," Tom informed readily, moving to sit more comfortably, his knee quite noticeably brushing hers.

Hermione's sympathy was immediate. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry. This is probably my fault. I didn't mean-"

"Hermione." Tom took her hand in his, pondering how self-assured she had been before Ron's death. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. Besides, it's quite apparent that Ginny's in love with Harry."

Hermione shrugged in agreement, though she still harbored a guilt-ridden expression.

"Are you certain you want to go through with this trip to Paris?" Tom asked, knowing just who she was thinking about at that moment.

Hermione squeezed his hand before answering, her eyes vacant when she looked at him. "Yes." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a quick, "Don't say it won't solve my problems, Tom. I don't know what else I can do." Before he was able to see her tears, she pulled her hand from his and apparated out of the room.

Tom collapsed into his pillows. He could still feel the touch of her fingers against his skin, and he closed his eyes in the hopes that it would go away. It wasn't that he didn't want to go to France; it was the company that was the problem, not that he didn't love Hermione even more than Paris-because he did-but fleeing England, for however long or short a period was not going to solve her problems in the least, and she knew it as well as the rest of them did. Paris won't solve her problems . . . problem . . . Tom sat straight up, eyes wide. "That's it!" he exclaimed to himself, springing to his feet and grinning like a madman. If Ron, and Hermione's love thereof, was the problem, then Tom would solve it.

A nervous knot twisting in his abdomen, Tom exited his room, rapidly making his way down the hall. He paused in front of Hermione's door, lingering just long enough to hear her muffled weeping and feel his heart clench, before he picked up his pace and sprinted further. He came to the desired door and halted resolutely, allowing himself one calming breath before raising his fist and rapping on the oak door.

"If it's Ginny or Harry, go away," Ron called from within.

Tom knocked again.

"I said-"

"It's Tom," Tom interjected.

There was a hurried shuffling and a slam in the room before the door was wrenched open, and Tom came face-to-face with an extremely irate Ron. "What the hell do you want?" the latter demanded, nostrils flaring.

"I came to-"

"To what? Make my life even more miserable, you muggle bastard!" Ron took an intimidating step closer.

Tom shriveled slightly. "No, I want-"

"It seems to me that you have everything you want, so if you could just leave me alone, I'd very much appreciate-"

Tom slammed his hand against the door, which Ron had been inching shut since the beginning of the conversation. "I want to apologize," he declared forcefully.

Ron gripped the door, blinking away shock. "Well, I don't accept your apology," he asserted portentously.

"I've also got a proposal to make-" Tom stopped as he forced the door open again. I see exactly why she's called him immature in the past. "If you would just listen to me, I think you'll find it's quite reasonable!"

Ron shouldered the door halfway closed. "If you want to marry Hermione, go ahead! I don't give a da-"

Tom tried to keep the door open by pressing his back against it and speaking over his shoulder. "That's not what I came here for at all! This proposal is about you and me making amends and working together!"

A disgusted Ron stepped away from the door, and it flew open, sending Tom straight to the floor. "I would never marry-"

"I'm not asking you to marry me, idiot!" Tom gawked up at him, awed by how ludicrous he was being. "I have a deal for you. If you would listen instead of acting like a child, maybe we could actually get around to discussing it!" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head in desperation. "Please?"

Ron stood sullenly for a moment, arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed over white-hot flame eyes. "Fine." His scowl deepened at Tom's hopeful smile. "I'll listen, but that doesn't mean I'll agree."

"Oh, you'll agree," Tom assured him, scrambling to his feet.

Paris was truly exquisite. It was vibrant and foreign and exactly what Hermione needed to get her mind off . . . to relax.

She and Tom were situated in their pastel room, which had a veranda that looked out on a horizon, which twilight had painted purple and orange, the view obstructed only by the gorgeous Eiffel Tower. Tom was calling a restaurant and making dinner reservations for two, struggling with his French and shooting embarrassed smiles at Hermione, who was staring out the window quietly.

Moments later, Hermione felt a warm hand on her shoulder and smiled. "It is lovely," she muttered as accordion music drifted up through the French doors that lead onto the balcony.

"'Mione, would you like to dance?" Tom asked, and Hermione ignored the curious catch in his voice, standing and taking his hand instead. They swayed together to the soft music out on the terrace, where the light was slowly fading, and down below, streetlamps were popping on as passersby headed home.

"Where are you going?" Ginny interrogated.

"Why do you need a suitcase?" Harry grilled.

"Here, take Bugger," Ron ordered, handing his meowing kitten to Harry.

"Ron, where are you going?" Ginny repeated, looking at the feline with confusion.

Shoving on a dull muggle hat, Ron grinned. "Paris." And he grabbed his suitcase and apparated from the house.

Harry turned to Ginny, eyebrows raised. "Paris?"

Ginny beamed at him and turned to go into the sitting room. "Tom."

"Tom?" Harry scrambled after her, completely puzzled.

Ron arrived in an alley outside Tom and Hermione's hotel. Thankfully, the homeless man living in said passage was fast asleep and didn't notice him.

He strolled around to the front of the building, small suitcase in hand, and headed to the front desk. "I'd like to check in. Something on the third floor, please."

"Not a problem, monsieur," the clerk responded in thickly-accented English. "'Ow will you be paying?"

"Uh," Ron dug in his pocket for the banknotes Tom had given him before his and Hermione's departure. He found the bills and placed them on the counter. "This should cover it," he repeated the words Tom had told him.

The man raised his eyebrows and began counting the crumpled slips of paper, and, finding everything in order, handed Ron the keys to his room, wishing him a nice stay in Paris.

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Tom is in love with Hermione?"

"Really, Harry, it's not that big of a surprise," Ginny declared.

"But I thought he-and you-Aren't you angry?"

"Why would I be angry?" Ginny asked incredulously. "It was never anything more than a passing fancy, on either side. I'm just glad Hermione has someone looking out for her best interests. It's obvious Tom set up this thing with Ron."

"If Tom loves Hermione, why would he help Ron?"

"Tom loves Hermione enough to let her go. Besides, he's handsome enough to fetch any girl he wants."

"So, you and he aren't-"

"We broke it off the night of his party," Ginny affirmed.

Harry set his jaw and seriously asked, "And how does that leave you?"

Ginny frowned. "How does it leave me?"

"What's your status?"

Ginny resisted a smile at Harry's backward manner of approaching the subject. "I'm single, Harry. Very, very single . . . And how 'bout you? How does this whole situation leave you?"

"Single," Harry assured her, hesitantly meeting her eyes. "But, uh, hopefully not for long."

Ron set his bag down in his room, only just starting to feel a bit anxious about his goal in following Tom and Hermione here.

"Everything will be just fine," he assured himself, checking his appearance in the bathroom mirror. "She loves you. Her own best friend said so."

He straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, smiling nervously before pocketing his keys and heading out the door.

Tom had informed Ron of the room Hermione had reserved, and, being on the third floor, it wasn't a long walk from his own. He reached the door swiftly and, after another brief pep talk, he dared to knock.

Tom heard the first knock, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting against his shoulder as she let herself be absorbed into the music.

The second knock was louder, and Hermione stepped back. "Who could that be?"

"Room service?" Tom suggested, ignoring the pain in his chest. "You should go see."

Hermione gave him a curious look before obeying. Tom exhaled heavily as she left the balcony, bracing himself against the railing and telling himself this was for the best.

Meanwhile, Hermione couldn't comprehend why room service would pay them a visit without having been called. She opened the door with a smile that faded quickly.

"Ron?"

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked tentatively, eyes alight.

"Ginny . . ." Harry took a breath and continued resolutely. "I've made so many mistakes. Ever since I let you go the first time, I've regretted it. I just-I wish we could go back . . ."

"We can," Ginny said softly. "We are, right this moment. You and me Harry. If you want . . . we . . . I mean, I'm open to . . ."

Letting himself hope for the first time in years, Harry scooted nearer to Ginny on the loveseat, leaning in close. "I love you, Gin," he whispered before she closed the distance between them. The kiss was tender and spoke of more regret and of more completion than either of their words could ever do.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, completely appalled that Ron had followed her to Paris.

"Well, uh, I realized I had forgotten to say goodbye, and, considering you might not come visit us again, I thought I ought to-"

"Right. Bye then," Hermione interrupted, now a little angry that Ron seemed to be just toying with her emotions, giving her some kind of optimism for their future, before destroying what little hope she had.

"Wait!" Ron exclaimed as she moved to close the door. At his word, she faltered, a good sign. "I realize that after my behavior this past week you probably want nothing to do with me, and I . . . I apologize."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "All right." She gave him a nod, indicating he could carry on.

"But the truth is, I'm here because . . . I wanted to tell . . . I-"

"You wanted to wish me luck with Tom, correct? Because you've still got it in your head that he and I-"

"What?" Ron shook his head rapidly. "No. I came because your actions have given me reason to believe-"

"Ron-"

"Let me finish, Hermione!" Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms. "Hermione, I can't tell you how hard it's been, ever since I met you. Even after I forgot everything else, you were still-I could never forget you. You've always been . . . I've always . . ."

Hermione fought against the lump in her throat. "Ron-"

"Damn it, Hermione! I love you! Can't you see that?"

Hermione was caught off guard for only a moment before she regained her suspicion. "Did Tom put you up to this?"

"What? Being in love with you? No. You made sure of that yourself. Tom just told me where you would be and said . . . He gave me the assurance I needed to . . ."

"So . . . you . . ." The things Hermione had told herself were impossible came into view quite suddenly. "Oh, Ron!" She rushed forward, into his waiting arms, and he finally allowed himself to relax.

"There's a restaurant and a reservation for two, under the name Granger, so I'm told. We can talk there, if you want," Ron offered, pulling back to get a good look at her smiling face.

"But Tom-"

"Tom knows all about it," Ron assured her, embracing her again and pressing his lips to the top of her head.

Ron and Hermione were gone to the restaurant, happily together at last, and Tom was left alone in the hotel room, packing up his things and feeling not quite as empty as he had anticipated. By now, he was sure Ginny and Harry were engrossed in one another, and all was well in the world.

Tom smiled halfheartedly at the thought of the four magic folk having a good old time back at Grimmauld Place sometime in the future, one of the women perhaps with child, the two men jovially talking about stupid muggles and their stupid ways.

As he walked down the corridor to the elevator, he could imagine them all living long, happy lives, and he only regretted he would play little role in them.

He exited into the lobby and, soon, into the streets of Paris. Straightening his back and widening his stride, he searched for confidence. After all, he was still in the city of love; there was hope for him yet.

A/N: And there you have it, an ending as corny as the story itself. I must say, I enjoyed writing this (perhaps because it's the end), in spite of how little I like the story anymore. Thanks for reading.