Written for Round 3 of Hermione Grangers' Personal Library Challenge in Hermione's Haven on FB
Music: Burn by Andrea Day, It's All The Same by Sick Puppies, In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins, Ashes by Celine Dion
"Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute." - Edgar Allan Poe
A/N ; There is mention of miscarriage in this story
"Ronald Weasley, how could you…"
Her words bounced around in his head as he wandered through the streets of London. He was unsure of how long he had been walking, but he was sure that his marriage was over. They'd both said things to hurt the other. It was not the first time, and he was sure it would not be the last. He should never have brought up the hours she was working or the babies they had lost. But, she wasn't pulling any punches either. She should have never mentioned his need to stand out from the crowd and make up for the loss of his brother. He had forgotten just how good both of them were at using words like knives.
The foggy streets of London were not helping him figure out how to mend what had been shattered or even if he wanted to try. All they did was provide a backdrop for memories. The coffee shop where they laughed until they cried because Harry had fainted when Ginny told him she was pregnant. The corner where she proved she could cast a bat bogey curse better than his sister because he had forgotten their anniversary. Echoes of declarations of love and horrors of war bounced through alleys as he passed them. The memories seemed to balance themselves between the good and the bad. How was he supposed to decide what to do next if he could not sort out what exactly had happened? It was like the Forest of Dean all over again.
"Hermione Granger, I am tired of trying to measure up…"
His words dripped down the wall of their empty flat as she stared at the empty fireplace. She did not remember what had started the fight, but she knew what had ended it. Words slung like arrows across the room as they both aimed for sore points years of love had protected. The drop of his shoulders as he turned from her to step into the floo was his way of escaping whatever she'd said. She had curled up on the sofa to wait, but the tears had not come. She just felt empty, like he had taken all the oxygen from the room when he had dropped that handful of green powder. She hated this feeling. He'd sounded so resolved to the disintegration of their marriage as he left. Did she really want that? Did she want to give up on what they had built over the years?
The ticking of the clock on the mantle was not helping matters. It just served as a reminder that time was passing and she was getting nowhere. He was right about the choices she had been making lately. Choosing to work late was easier than facing the empty crib in the nursey and the grief for the babies that they had lost. He trusted the healers when they said there was nothing either of them could have done to prevent the miscarriages, but, still, she blamed herself. Just like he blamed himself for the loss of his brother. She'd watched him fight in the final battle, and there was nothing he could have done to prevent Fred's death, but he never stopped trying to fill the space that was left by his passing. In the quiet of the empty flat, she had to decide if the wounds they had torn open were too big to survive.
"I cannot do this anymore…"
Ron watched the sunrise over the tops of the trees in Hyde Park. He had to face George in a couple of hours, and he would rather face a dragon. He needed a shower, coffee, and his wife. He could get the first two in the flat over the shop, but the last was going to take some work. His night spent wandering the streets of London had led him to several conclusions. He needed to apologize for the knives he had thrown if he wanted Hermione back in his arms. As much as he hated the way she buried herself in her work when she did not want to face painful memories, she was the other half of his soul. He'd fallen in love with her when they were just kids, and he was not going to give up on her now. It was amazing the clarity he had found in the fog.
"I will not do this again…"
Hermione waited for the feeling to return to her toes. She had to get off of the couch soon, but she had to be able to walk first. She had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for Ron to come home and her body was still recovering. She had come to a couple of conclusions as she listened to the night tick away. She needed tea, a toothbrush, and her husband. A flick of her wand would start the kettle while she made her way to the loo and minty fresh breath. However, a flick of her wand was not going to heal the harm she had caused with the words she'd flung at Ron last night. For those, she was going to have to find him and apologize. He might get wrapped up in a new project in the lab from time to time, but he'd been her rock for as long as she could remember. His strength and humor in stressful situations had drawn her to him, and it was what made her feel safe when she had to face daunting tasks. It was time to seek out the other half of her heart and bring him home.
"I ache when you shut me out …"
With a flick of his wand, Ron apparated to the door of his flat.
"I crumble when you leave me behind …"
With a quick twist of her wrist, Hermione turned the knob of the door of her flat.
"Come home …"
Ron raised his hand to knock on the door as Hermione opened it.
"I'm sorry…"