If I owned this then I wouldn't be working at Tim Hortons...
Bacon and eggs... he always makes me breakfast in bed when he's trying to suck up, trying to prove he's worthy of my love, trying to beg for forgiveness...
He simply left the tray at the foot of my bed...our bed... he clearly didn't want to wake me - I'm not exactly a morning person. I'm even worse when...well when it's morning like these.
I don't eat the breakfast - it's a bribe and I don't take kindly to bribes...Instead I chuck it down the toilet, making him think I ate it...I may not take kindly to bribes, but he doesn't need to know that yet...
Yet - I make it sound like I'm going to keep him around after...after last night.
Well why shouldn't I? I've kept him around every other time...
I'm up, and dressed he must have heard me; he wouldn't be knocking on my door otherwise.
"Hermione?" He calls softly from the doorframe.
But I don't answer, and I keep my back firmly to him...it hurts too much to look at him. It hurts too much to think about him. I don't know why I came back the last time. I swore if it ever happened again I'd have my bags packed and be out the door.
Yet I'm still here.
"I know you can hear me..." he calls softly entering the room.
"Stop!" This is not a request, "you don't get to enter this room right now."
And so he stops. He knows what's good for him.
"You don't get to enter this room because you ruined this room-"yet another set of furniture needs to be bought. I won't be able to look at this furniture after I return from my sabbatical from him, this room, this...problem.
Because I know I'll return. I always return - I don't know why I always return.
And so we'll need to buy new furniture...need a new bed.
"Hermione, please talk to me...Tell me how to make this right..."
"I told you how to make this right last time." I want to scream. I need to scream...but I don't - shouldn't wake the kids - who are at school- so I can't wake them if I do scream -but I still don't scream - it wouldn't be right, I'm not sure why but it wouldn't be right.
"Hermione please, it was mistake- I didn't mean to bring Lavend-"
"STOP," this time I do scream, "You don't get to say her name to me. You never say her name to me." I finally turn to face him. I thought I'd have no tears left after the first time. Or the second time. This is the fifth time...apparently I'm still fully capable of crying as tears are freely running down my face -I can't stop them - I feel so damn weak.
"Don't you dare utter her name to me you piece of- "
"Watch your mouth," he whispers, looking around, "the kids-"
"Are safely at Hogwarts," I bite off each word,"so I can say 'SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT' all the bloody times I want. Stop using our children as an excuse to keep me from screaming at the top of my lungs, to keep me quiet about your cheating, to keep me here."
So that's why I come back...
"I want a divorce-"
"Hermione, I'm sorry. Please..." His eyes tear up. "I need you in my life. I can't function without you. I can't live without you. You are my other half and you make me whole..."
"I want a divorce- "
"You won't do it Hermione; you always threaten, but never follow through. You love me too; I'm your other half. You're just as in need of me as I am of you."
"I want a-" my words are silenced by his lips. His lips that I know so well...his lips that I kissed on our first date. The same lips I kissed behind the quiddich pitch, on our wedding day, when Harry finally defeated Voldemort, when our son was born, when our daughter was born, when they both started Hogwarts.
The same lips I kissed after I forgave him for getting drunk and sleeping with her the first time.
The same lips that kissed her the second and third and fourth times...the same lips that kissed her last night.
Why am I still with him?
And so I'm out the door.
I need to think. I know why I used to still be with him (but the kids are gone now, what's my excuse)...
I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring his calls after me.
I'm positively running now. I can't think with him in my head.
I need to stop him from getting to me like this.
"Hello Mrs. Weasley," I hear my neighbour shout to me as I race past - I must look a sight with teary eyes - I don't even remember putting on my shoes, but there they are, leading me as fast as I can away from my house.
The garbage man is on the streets this morning - it's ironic really...he can't take the real trash out of my house.
I slow to a brisk walk. I know Ron isn't following. He knows what's good for him...he only seems to know what's good for him.
He knows I'm good for him, so he keeps me around; the dolt loves me, but not enough to stay faithful apparently.
The first time was after he lost the world cup for his team.
He got himself pissed at a local bar and met up with her again.
He came home crying to me, telling me what happened.
So I forgave him. And he slept on the couch for a month until I was positive that all traces of her were out of his system.
Then I was away, I had a presentation across the country for new medical advancements we had made, my presentation ended early so I was home early.
That was the first time we bought new bedroom furniture - even then he didn't put up a fight.
Maybe we're missing that... correction, maybe he's missing that. We don't' fight anymore, I tend to yell...but he no longer retaliates. There isn't a passion, a spark, a connection.
Maybe it was the fighting that ruined things. Maybe he got tired.
Maybe I wasn't putting out enough for him.
Maybe this was my fault- so again I'm down this road, the one that almost always inevitably leads me back to him.
It was probably my fault again. It will probably be my fault again (when I go back- because I always go back).
My feet know where they are going; they take me where they've always taken me when I've temporarily left Ron.
You would think it would be the other way around. That I'd make Ron leave - and that he'd be the one crashing on Harry's couch, but no, I make that sacrifice - I always make the sacrifice Luna would say.
Luna would then tell me that I need to leave his sorry ass because I deserve someone who will love me and only me and that Ron is a pathetic excuse for a man and that he should be eaten by the Cornish-crumpled Snorkacks, a long distance, more carnivorous cousin of the Crumple Horned Snorkacks.
It would be at this point that I would roll my eyes but let her keep talking.
Well I guess I should schedule an appointment with her soon because I might as well get the speech over with. Weird thing, every time after we've spoken I do always want to leave Ron.
But then he does something sweet.
He took me back to Hogwarts quiddich pitch once, the place he first kissed me. Told me it was the happiest day of his entire life.
A year later he was with her again.
I've reached Harry's, as if on autopilot I knock. He'll know what happened for sure.
He always seems to know. I'm not sure how, but he does.
And so he opens the door, takes a good look at me and steps aside. This has happened four times before, he knows the drill.
I make myself comfortable, and he and I start a friendly chatter about anything other than Ron.
"So how does Emma like being a Gryffindor?"
"She says the kids tease her about how much she reads"
"Must get it from her mother," he chuckles softly.
"Kalen wishes she had gotten into Ravenclaw as well, but apparently she's quite fond of going off on little adventures. We've gotten a couple of owls telling us of her detention."
And to this he stay's silent, but I know what he's thinking, Emma gets that from her father - but Harry doesn't bring Ron up - not yet anyways.
And so the conversation goes. Nothing substantial - that will come later - just mindless small talk and friendly banter. It's almost as familiar as Ron's lips.
I've been at Harry's for two weeks now. Ron's stopped by everyday to ask me to come home.
This is the longest I've even been away.
"The kids will start to wonder" he used to say to convince me.
The kids no longer live there so I guess that excuse is no longer useful.
"What will the neighbours say?" He tried once.
Our neighbours stopped being my concern when Mr. Goldstrume was caught playing 'plough the hoe' with the gardener.
"I need you."
That's the one he was going with this time.
It doesn't feel quite as effective now for some reason.
"Hermione?" Harry walked into my makeshift bedroom. "What are you doing?"
"Packing."
"So you're going home?"
"Well...yes..."
"Oh ok," he looks down at his feet when he wants to tell me something but can't find the words...its funny the little things you pick up about your best friends. It's funnier still how you let things like this slide because you simply want to be ignorant of what he actually has to say.
Because in all the years I've known Harry...and in all the years I've been married to Ron, and in the all the years Ron has been with Lavender, Harry has never once told me what he thinks I should do, because he knows, that I know what I should do.
So I let him be silent...not knowing how to say what he wants to say, because I don't know if I could refuse whatever advice he gives me, and I have already made up my mind as to what I was going to do.
And so I keep packing.
"Hermione," he says as he approaches the bed.
"Yes,"
"Don't go back to him."
Simple.
One little request.
Five words that send my world spinning.
Because Harry has never asked that of me before. Harry has never tried to get between us, because that would be choosing between your two best mates.
And I would never ask Harry to choose me over Ron. Because I know Harry has lost too many loved ones in his life too lose one of two people he has left in this world.
And so I never let him tell Ron what he thought of him. I told Harry to keep Ron as a friend and to not let Ron's actions bother him.
Because I'm the one who should be bothered, not Harry...Harry has been through too much to be bothered anymore.
Because Ron may only think about what is best for Ron, I tend to think about what is best for Harry...and Ron when he's not already thinking for himself.
"I have to go back Harry." I stand to face him.
"Why?"
I don't know...
Harry advances towards me, "Why do you need to go back Hermione?" he says softly, invading my personal space.
"Because Ron needs me."
"Who cares?"
"I care,"
"Why should you? He's cheated on you. Not once, not twice, but five times - THAT YOU'VE CAUGHT." He's practically screaming now.
Anger is emitting from him like I've seen only once before, when Ginny was killed right before our eyes, and he, in turn, killed Voldemort.
"He's no good for you Hermione. You're only a shell of who you used to be. You don't smile, unless you're around your kids anymore. You don't laugh unless it's the polite thing to do. You bury yourself in your work. You can barely look at Ron anymore, and no one blames you." He too close, much much much too close. His voice goes softer with each sentence he says, no longer angry, but caring and worrying.
"Hermione, please, ask yourself why are still with him. Is it because he needs you? Or do you use that to justify that you are afraid of being alone..." His words strike me deeply. They make my heart pound; it's not his proximity that scares me anymore. "It is not your fault that Ron cheats on you. It is your fault for going back."
There, he had finally said what everyone else had been thinking - I, Hermione Weasley,am afraid of dying alone, so I settled for someone who takes my heart and destroys it, and before I can even collect all the pieces, he stomps on it a little more. But Harry isn't finished with me yet, his body is against mine, I can feel the heat from his breath - and it doesn't want to make me run for the hills like it should - Ron is the cheater, not me.
"He does not deserve to be in the same room as you, let alone be married to you anymore. It isn't because Lavender is prettier than you - you're bloody gorgeous. It isn't because you two no longer fight. You have so much passion, and he's letting it slip through his fingers. He cannot see what a fiery," he's cupping my face, " beautiful," stroking my cheek, " wonderful," looking at my lips, "sexy" leaning in, "women you are."
And he kissed me.
It's not one of those kisses that they write stories about. The ones that shatter your world. The ones that make you question everything you knew about your previous kissing experience. Because to date I had only had those with Ron, and you don't replace 15 years of marriage, of only kissing one set of lips, with one kiss. These lips, Harry's lips, they are foreign to me. I don't know the curve of them; I don't know where to push to make him moan. This is not one of those kisses that lead too...more than kisses.
But was a chaste kiss.
A light kiss with more love than I have felt since Emma was born. A simple kiss that does make me question the possibilities of an earth shattering kiss that could follow.
"I love you, Hermione," he says as he pulls away. "And loving you is enough to get me through this life time, even if you can't return my feelings. But I want you to know, that if you don't go back to him, if you leave him forever, I will never cheat on you. I will never let you down, and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know exactly how fiery, amazing, beautiful, sexual, and wonderful you are."
And so I returned, because I always return, because I can't think of anything else to do but to go back to the place that I call my home.
Because I am always the one to make sacrifices.
"Hermione? Is that you?" I hear from the den.
"Yes."
He comes running to me, envelops me in a hug, practically squeezing the life out of me. "I was afraid you'd never come home..."
He lets me go and I started walking up stairs.
I feel a pain as I walk past every picture of us that decorate the halls of our house. We look so happy, and I can't help but hate myself for buying into the illusion.
I go to our room, and he follows closely behind, obviously thrilled to have me home.
I wish he wouldn't do what is best for him...
I look around the room, and turn to face him, no we will not be buying new furniture this time.
I always make the sacrifice, so I turn and put my ring in the centre of the bed.
He looks confused.
"We're getting a divorce." I say clearly, keeping my tears at bay.
He's clearly at a loss for words, so I leave, to let him think things over. I look once more at the pictures and finally let the tears fall for the years that I have spent, wishing I was as happy as I had been in these pictures. I let them fall, wishing I hadn't spent the time at all. But I let the tears fall most freely because of how weak I am, for not wanting to leave, for wanting to be Mrs. Weasley forever, because I'm afraid I will never be anything but...
Before he can chase me I apparate away, to my own new apartment that he does not yet know about.
I've always returned in the past, and I've always been the one to make the sacrifice.
But it has been my own illusion I've been feeding.
My own twisted belief that if I always return, he will never leave me. Because I was the one who had to beg for him back, never wanting him to leave me. Because I love him...will always love him.
But he no longer loves me the way he once did.
I'm letting him go, so that he can find another to love as he once loved me. My final sacrifice to him.
Perhaps, one day, I can tell Harry that I will be ready for him to love me the way I wish Ron had. But not today...not for a while.
AN: So I know this isn't exactly a big happy fluffy Harry/Hermione story, but I wanted to try something a little darker, something that delves a little deaper into Hermione's personality. I hope you liked it...please R&R, and feel free to check out one of my other stories (not that I'm plugging or anything lol).
AFH