A Reunion
"Hermione Granger," he says, sliding into the barstool next to her. "Long time no see."
He says it the way he would say it to Padma Patil or Colin Creevy, someone who he doesn't really know, someone that it is completely normal for him not to have seen for ten years. He says it like she isn't a person he has history with, someone he should have seen, but hasn't. But she doesn't have to look up to know there is a smile spread across his face. She can't look up as it is; her eyes are glued to the bottom of her empty glass.
"How have you been, Ronald?" she asks the table quietly. She wonders why she doesn't know. Its true, she hasn't seen many of her old Hogwarts classmates until tonight's ten-year-reunion, but everyone, including herself, had thought the three of them would stay together. But when they spent that much time together as they had during the last days of the Battle, they needed to get away from each other. She, especially, needed the fresh air, the fresh faces, and she needed to forget.
But ten years already? Ten years without hearing him speak, or seeing his face, their only contact being a yearly exchange of Christmas cards? How had they let that happen?
"Well," he begins in a deep voice, a voice that surprises her. "I've been terrible, actually."
She sighs, but keeps her head down. "The wife?" she asks tensely, not wanting to upset him. She had heard it through the grapevine a few months back that Ron's wife, Charlotte, had left him for her boss. Ron had not taken it well.
"Well, not until you brought it up," he jokes. Quickly turning serious, he says, "What's this I hear about you being engaged to Viktor Krum?"
She is about to fire off a nasty retort at him, but she stops when she feels his hand brush against hers. Hermione's eyes impulsively flick to his face. What a mistake. All manner of thought vanishes from her head. She cannot think, her mouth cannot form words, and all the knowledge she ever gained from Hogwarts, A History has disappeared without a trace. He is staring at her intensely, a hint of sadness in his eyes.
Hermione finally looks upon the face she has not seen for ten years to find it as similar as she remembered it, yet so very different. He is older now, more handsome, and, for lack of a better word, sexy. She cannot help thinking it, but chastises herself for doing so. She quickly looks away from him and his wonderful, sorrowful eyes, and is miraculously able to think.
"So it's true?" he asks, and she notices that her hand is now in his, and that he is examining the small diamond on her finger.
"Yes, it's true," she manages. "We're getting married next year."
He lets go of her hand and it falls back into her lap, and she will not allow herself to think about how much she misses the warmth of his hand. She is silent, waiting for Ron to speak, but he does not.
She twists in her barstool to face him, and by avoiding eye contact she is still master of her own thoughts. He is slumped over the counter, his chin resting on his folded arms and his legs sprawled out on the barstool beneath him. "You're getting married and you didn't even tell me," he says dejectedly.
"You didn't tell me when your wife left you," she snaps, and pushes back the guilt that comes for bringing it up.
He sighs. "What happened to us?" he asks the air.
"The three of us drifted apart," she rationalizes. "It happens sometimes, especially when people undergo traumatic events, and they-"
"No," Ron interrupts. "I mean what happened between you and me?"
Her breath catches in her throat, but she manages another catty remark, comfortably falling into the old, familiar routine. "You were there, weren't you?" she asks.
"How can I make things better between us?" he asks, sitting up and facing her.
"You can start by buying me a drink," she says after a pause. She's been drinking club soda all night, but now she thinks she might need something a little stronger.
xxxx
She twists her engagement band around on her finger as he talks to her; its the only thing that is stopping her from doing something dreadfully unladylike to him.
They sit facing each other on the barstools, knees knocking together, and he tells her about his new job with the Chudley Cannons, and about the new flat he's bought that has nothing in it. She tells him about SPEW, and about the book she wants to write. Then he asks her about Viktor.
"What about him?" she asks nervously. She doesn't think she's ever had a conversation with Ron about Viktor that hasn't ended in yelling.
"Do you love him?" he asks.
She spins the ring vigorously as she searches for an answer. "I-well, the thing is," the stumbles, "That well- there's the whole issue with-"
"Stop," he interrupts. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
She nods her head in a thankful gesture, but she can't stop twirling the ring around and around.
"So tell me more about this book," Ron says, and she does, but halfway through she stops when Ron grasps both of her hands while she is in the middle of a sentence about indirect characterization. He gently pries her right hand away from her engagement ring. "That was driving me crazy," he says by way of explanation.
He lets go of her hands immediately, like a gentleman. She wonders when that happened. But she grabs his hands as they are trying to slip out of hers and squeezes them tightly. She has lost him before, but she can't let that happen again. She raises her head to look into his eyes for a few silent moments before he voices the thought that both of them have been unable to say all evening.
"I miss you."
Fin.