Renegade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

I.

He was motionless in the darkness of the night, ever careful not to make even a single sound. The moon glimmered brightly over his shoulder, but he was unaware of it. He had eyes only for his prey, who was moving quickly towards his own target.

His hand tightened on his wand. His instinct told him that it was almost time.

A high-pitched scream resounded into the air, and he sprang into action.

"Stupefy!" He roared, watching the body fall to the floor with a thud. He had been waiting weeks for this moment. Finally, the man who had killed seven innocent people would be sent to Azkaban to meet the cruel fate of those who had chosen to break the law.

"Time to leave, Ferret." He heard his partner say. He didn't even bother acknowledging him. That was the way they worked. That was the way they had been for years—even before they graduated from Hogwarts.

He disapparated, leaving the lanky red-head to finish his dirty work, like always.

This year, the invitation was green with the words embossed in silver, the envelope smelling faintly of fresh roses. Hermione was on the verge of picking up her wand and setting the cursed object on fire when Ron conveniently plucked it out of her hands.

"What's your excuse this time, Hermione?" He asked, his eyebrows wagging. Oh, how he loved to provoke her when she was in a foul mood.

"Tell them that I was gardening, and that I was feeding the Venus Fly Trap…" She paused. "…and that it bit my fingers off and I had to stay home and find them." She finished.

"Even Crookshanks wouldn't believe that." Ron scoffed as he placed the invitation back on the kitchen counter. "Why don't you just go, Hermione? You might even end up enjoying it."

"Never." She hissed venomously. With a flick of her wand, the envelope burst into flames.

Ron rolled his eyes. Every year, it was always the same.


Focus, Hermione. Focus.

It had only been a minute since Ron had started kissing her, and her mind had already started to wander to her work, even to what she was going to make for breakfast tomorrow. She really couldn't help it. As much as she loved Ron, he just couldn't make her excited in bed.

They had talked about it several times. Ron always told her that he suspected that their relationship was platonic. Deep down inside, she knew he was right. Out loud, she often convinced him otherwise. She would tell him that she loved him and that she would rather die than live without him. It wasn't a complete hoax—it was true that she loved Ron. It was just that she wasn't in love with him.

Ron had always known that they were two people who cared about each other, but weren't the type of couple who could speak of forever. Hence, when Hermione proposed that they live in together rather than get married, he agreed.

Of course, there were nights like these when Ron tried to see if Hermione changed the way she felt about him. She didn't mind, she owed him a lot and was willing to subject herself to his whims. But it was futile. Hermione did not change. She doubted she ever will.

"Not tonight, then?" Ron asked, smiling at her.

"Not tonight." Hermione replied, squeezing his hand. She watched as Ron made himself comfortable on his side of the bed. She felt bad for him. She knew he was only staying with her because of their friendship, and that as his friend she should probably let him go and move on. In the past, she was selfish. She knew that if he found someone else, he would leave. Back then, she couldn't bear the thought of being alone. But not tonight.

Ron reached out to hold her hand, as if sensing that she was thinking of something deep. "Don't worry, Hermione." He told her. "You know that I don't mind."

"I know it's selfish of me." She said. She knew that she wanted this to end. She had kept him in chains long enough. "It's been almost four years, Ron. I want you to be happy."

He was looking at her with patience in his eyes, and she knew that he really wanted to listen to what she had to say. She really did care about him. She wanted to do this.

"I'm going to move out." She told him. She could see the shock in his face. "Ron, you've done so much for me. I want you to finally have your life back. I've taken so much out of it already."

"Hermione, I'll still be here for you, no matter what." He told her. She completely believed him.

"Good night, Ron." She said, with a smile.

He kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Good night, Hermione." He replied.

That night, Hermione slept with a feeling of liberation, as if a heavy weight was lifted off her chest.

She had given Ron his freedom back. She was finally ready to move on.

"There's just one thing, though…" Hermione thought.

The Malfoy mansion was especially impeccable that night. The grounds were decorated with fountains that spewed rainbow lights instead of water, and the trees glowed with enchanted fireflies of various colors. Inside, the ceilings glittered with chandeliers and the halls were adorned with fresh flowers, vines and gemstones.

Hermione's hand on Ron's arm tightened.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" He asked her. He knew how much she loathed Draco Malfoy. Sure, he had terrorized them while they were still at Hogwarts, but that was four years ago. Even he had fallen into a professional relationship with him. He wondered what Draco must've done to deserve her insatiable anger.

It was odd that Hermione avoided the Malfoys in the four years that they were together, and then suddenly she begs him to take her to the Malfoys' ball just hours after she had burned the invitation. If that was not the handiwork of female hormones, he didn't know what was.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley." The butler announced, and the walls rang with his voice.

"Oh, but we're not—" Ron started. Hermione poked him in the ribs.

"It's okay, Ron." She said. "It doesn't matter whether they get it right or not."

The truth was, she was happy that the butler got it wrong. At least he would think that she had moved on.

"Okay." Ron shrugged. "Let's go mingle."

Hermione's eyes scanned the crowd quickly, but then she stopped herself. She didn't want him to think that she was actually looking for him. Let him look for her.

"Let's dance." She told Ron, and she pulled him towards the couples in the middle of the room.

The song was slow and sweet, so Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, and her hands found their way around his neck. Physical contact was not new nor awkward to them, as they were best friends and former lovers. Their foreheads touched.

"Who knew that it wouldn't work out between us." He whispered to her. "People always said that we were perfect together."

"I don't know, Ron." She whispered back. "Are you sad?"

"Nah." He smiled at her. "You make me really happy, even if we're only meant to be just friends."

"Kiss me one last time?" She asked him, with a smile. And he did.

Her lips had barely touched Ron's when she heard the sound of shattering glass and a collective gasp from the crowd. Ron had heard it too. He had looked up abruptly and had shifted to Auror mode, the kiss completely forgotten. Hermione turned to look at what the commotion was about.

It was him.

"Sorry. I was holding the glass too tight." He said to the crowd, and even though his hand was a bloodied mess, with glass shards littering the floor, no one dared to move and help him.

Not with his eyes ablaze with anger, like they were that night.

"Reparo." She heard Pansy say. "Honestly, Draco, you are never in control of yourself. Now come with me and we'll have the house elf fix it…"

And then Pansy herded Draco away and they were gone.

"Pansy looks like she's really taking care of Malfoy, huh?" Ron said, interrupting her thoughts. "He's lucky he got a wife who actually cares for him. I heard that they're always together."

Hermione could hear what Ron was saying, but her heart refused to process the words. She didn't want to believe that Draco was married, was actually in love with his wife. She didn't want to remember that he had left her to be with someone else.

"I have to go to the ladies' room." She told Ron apologetically.

"That's okay. I'll go talk to my boss." He said, spotting the Chief Auror a few feet away.

Hermione didn't even know where the bathroom was, but she did know that she needed to get a breath of fresh air.

It turned out that she wasn't the only one with the idea of staying in the garden for a while, since he was out there as well.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that this spot was taken." She said coolly, trying to avoid his eyes.

"Why? Looking for a snog-spot with Weasel? There are better parts in the house where you can more vividly imagine that he was actually a man."

"I would imagine so. I'm impressed that there are actually rooms in your house which can transform cows into Pansy."

He was taller than she remembered, and his shoulders were broader. She shamelessly drank in the sight of him, and he did the same. It had been too long. Those four years of speculating what had happened and what could've happened had crawled on too damn slowly.

"Why are you even here?" There was ice in his voice. "What happened to your lame excuses? I believe the last one was that your pet dragon accidentally clawed through your stomach and dislocated your gall bladder."

"It was my pet cat, and he clawed through my feet and dislocated my ankles." She retorted back, just as icily. Draco was not amused.

"I haven't forgotten, Hermione." He told her. "And I know you haven't either. That's why you're here."

She didn't reply.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening." He told her, as he took his leave.

For a moment, Hermione considered following him. But then she realized how futile it was, so she went to find Ron instead.

All she wanted was to go home and try to forget again.

How is it is so far? Do tell. *Telepathically moves your mouse to the review button* :)