On Loving Two Equally
How strongly does my passion flow,
Divided equally 'twixt two?
Damon had ne'er subdued my heart,
Had not Alexis took his part;
Nor could Alexis powerful prove,
Without my Damon's aid, to gain my love.
When my Alexis present is,
Then I for Damon sigh and mourn;
But when Alexis I do miss,
Damon gains nothing but my scorn.
But if it chance they both are by,
For both alike I languish, sigh, and die.
Cure then, thou mighty winged god,
This restless fever in my blood;
One golden-pointed dart take back:
But which, O Cupid, wilt thou take?
If Damon's, all my hopes are crossed;
Or that of my Alexis, I am lost.
~Alpha Bern
Chapter One
Hermione Granger-Weasley, exhausted and weary, blinked back the onslaught of tears which threatened to escape her stinging eyes as she watched her husband storm about their kitchen.
"Honestly, Mione!" Ron huffed, slamming their dark cherry cabinets shut with a little more force than necessary. "I understand you're busy with the kids all day, but would it bloody kill you to tidy up a bit?" He moved on to throw Rose's half eaten remnants of a peanut butter sandwich into the bin with a huge sigh. "It's literally a wave of your wand!"
His wife of seven years glared at him, an unmistakable sense of resentment and wrath bubbling deep within her.
But a word never escaped her lips and she swallowed his remark as though it were absinthe, slowly feeling the ball of poison in her throat growing larger and larger with every unspoken word.
Hermione had learned long ago that arguing with the obstinate red-head only made matters worse, and she was too broken to fight.
Ronald turned around to look at her, his blue eyes softening just a fraction as he registered her unkempt hair, breast milk stained T-shirt and red rimmed eyes.
"I know it's tough work Hermione, but you have to try a bit harder."
The young witch swallowed once more in reply.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy!"
Rose's mop of flaming red curls came flying into the room accompanied by her thunderous footsteps as she threw her tiny body at her father, arms stretched skywards in a silent demand to be picked up.
Ron's face brightened instantly, the deep scowl marring his brow a distant memory as he bent over to scoop their first born child into his arms who smiled just as brilliantly through a mouthful of pacifier.
Despite his faults as a husband, there was no denying that Ronald Bilius Weasley was an exceptional father.
And for that at least, Hermione was grateful.
A loud, distant cry from the loft made them jump as Hugo announced the end of his nap.
"You come with daddy to get baby?" Ron asked the two year old as though he expected her response to be anything more than gibberish.
The two left the kitchen, giving Hermione a sacred moment of peace and quiet.
The young woman took a deep sigh and walked over to the window, the cool winter air rebounding on her face as she breathed onto the frosty glass.
Everything looked so beautiful and cozy covered in a thick blanket of sparkling white snow. She remembered the days when such weather meant ice skating and hot cups of cocoa by the fire, curled up with a good book.
But now?
It meant nothing more than the start of cold and flu season, and a four month quest to find Rose's missing mittens which somehow seemed to evade every summoning charm in existence.
Hermione adored her children; more than anything else in the world. But having her world revolve around nap times and nappy changes, repeating the same mundane activities day in and day out without any real semblance of structure had broken her.
She needed to be working, out there making a difference in a way that meant using her sharp wit and intellect for more than coming up with new ways to sneak vegetables into the kids diets.
The witch, once so sure of her plans and aspirations for the future had undoubtedly lost herself amidst the relentless sea of motherhood and wifedom.
The latter of the two being far less rewarding.
Ron did small, thoughtful things for her, like making sure to put milk in her tea every morning, or planting flowers in their garden and picking her a bouquet just before the end of Summer.
But for every romantic gesture and compliment, there were at least ten different flaws he managed to point out on a daily basis.
A loud creak from the room upstairs brought the girl back to reality, and she turned to stare at the haphazard meal she'd scrounged together just before Ron had stepped out of the fireplace.
Deciding to liven up the cold perogies with some grated cheese, Hermione dashed for the refrigerator and extracted a block of cheddar.
You have to try harder.
Ronald's words rang in her mind with all the crassness of a metal bell, but she steeled herself against his never ending criticisms and began to grate the cheese over their plates in a last ditch attempt to prove to herself that she could indeed try harder.
The house was filled with the blissful sound of sleeping children and Hermione let out a weary sigh after a long day, throwing herself beside Ron on their plush duvet.
She laid face down in the bed for a few seconds, basking in the utter lack of screaming babies before rolling onto her side to stare at her husband.
He was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet and failed to bat an eyelash at the nudge his wife had inadvertently given him.
Hermione pursed her lips at him, trying to think of something to say when she caught the headline on the front page.
MULTI-MILLION GALLEON DONATION GIVEN ANONYMOUSLY
The St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was given an astounding donation from an anonymous philanthropist. The seven figure sum was bequeathed to the Blood Curse and Ancient Magic Research Department, which until yesterday, was desperately underfunded.
The donation was given on the eve of the late Astoria Malfoy's birthday, who died two years ago of a Blood Curse which severely weakened her body. She left behind an infant son and a devoted husband whom many have assumed to be the generous benefactor...
Ron flourished the paper as he set it down on their nightstand, cutting short the tale of Astoria's tragedy.
A pang of pity shot through her at the memory of the quiet brunette who had been at Hogwarts, only two years behind herself.
She couldn't even imagine what that would be like - giving birth to a child, knowing that you would never be able to watch them grow up…
A shudder ran up her spine and she cast the dark thoughts away, hoping she would never have to face that reality.
Ron reached forward and snatched up the mobile phone she had so foolishly purchased for him last Christmas and loaded a game, still not having acknowledged his wife at all.
She glared at him for a few more seconds, hoping he would notice her before beginning to rap her fingers against the smooth, lilac bed sheets as the seconds ticked by.
Sighing internally, she gave up.
"So how was your day?" She asked colloquially, praying that he would take the bait so she could engage in a meaningful conversation with someone capable of speaking more than two syllables at a time.
"Alright," he replied, not making eye contact.
"Just alright?"
He nodded once, utterly absorbed by the flashing screen.
"Anything exciting happen?"
"Not really."
"Nothing at all…"
He shook his head.
"What about yesterday?"
Ron sighed, exasperated as he set the device down.
"It's work, Mione! Not exactly exciting."
Hermione screwed her face up at him.
"You're an Auror, for Merlin's sake, not a mail clerk!"
Her husband glowered for a split second before his expression changed altogether.
"Not for much longer actually."
The young witch sat up in the bed, her heart sinking at the look of guilt and shame on her partner's freckled face.
"What happened?" She asked, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't gotten Harry into trouble as well. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Ron declared, looking scandalized. "Well, at least not yet…"- he reached a lanky arm behind his head and scratched his mop of ginger hair, struggling for words -"I...I want to quit."
His wife stared blankly at him and after a long moment of silence, she relaxed her shoulders and smoothed out the creases in the sheets before opening her mouth.
She had to measure her next words very carefully - simply telling Ron that they couldn't afford to have him off work would just make the red-head defensive and unresponsive.
"You know I'll support you through anything, Ronald..."
"Thanks Mione," he whispered, closing a large freckled hand over hers.
She smiled; talking to Ron was like feeding a toddler - you had to offer something sweet along with the vegetables.
"But we're just getting by on your wages, and I don't know how we'll manage long term if you're not working."
The ginger sighed heavily, releasing her palm and running his fingers through his hair.
"Well, I've been thinking about this for a few months now and...why don't we swap roles for a bit?"
"I don't understand," Hermione replied, trying to clear the deep scowl she wore before her husband commented on it.
"Why don't I stay home with the kids for a while and you go back to work?" The youngest Weasley boy posited the idea timidly and gauged her reaction like a book he was trying to read from across the room.
Hermione tried desperately not to let her expression betray her; on one hand she was ecstatic at the thought of scheduled breaks where she could eat lunch without another human clinging to her - and the thought of being able to pee with the door closed nearly made her giddy.
But on the other hand, she was terrified of going back to work and leaving her kids at home. She was afraid of all that should would miss out on if she was at Whitehall for nine hours a day.
More importantly, what would the kids do without her? What would they eat? She was certain her husband wasn't going to start making Butternut squash macaroni for Hugo or cutting Rose's sandwiches into snowflakes and dinosaurs.
No, as much as she craved the independence, she should refuse.
That's what a good mother would do...right?
"Look Ronald, I know you might think it's all fun and games at home-"
"I never said that."
"-But it's a lot of hard work keeping those two kids fed, cleaned, entertained and well rested all day long and I don't know how I feel about leaving them at home with-"
"Their father?" The red-head scoffed derisively, turning to give her a pointed look.
Hermione's shoulders slumped and she immediately felt like an arse. She knew she was overbearing and controlling - many arguments and fights having erupted over the past two and a half years over her unwavering ability to swoop in and cut short anything Ron did with the kids that didn't fit her standards of parenting.
She was about to reiterate her previous statement when he continued speaking.
"When I was younger, the thought of chasing down bad guys and bringing them to justice… it all seemed brilliant back then," Ronald paused, taking a deep breath as he twiddled his thumbs and stared at his knees. "But after the war…"
A thick knot formed in the back of Hermione's throat as she willed herself not to cry at the mere mention of those dark years while her husband furiously fought back his own tears.
"After everything we did, everyone we fought and everything we-" his voice cracked suddenly and Hermione felt the moisture escape from her eyes as she battled against memories of Fred, Remus and all the others they'd lost. "Everytime I raise my wand to bring someone down, I wonder if they've got brothers or sisters, or a wife and kids and the spell just dries up in my throat and -"
The red-head let out a frustrated growl as he viciously clawed at his long, leaking nose, turning away as though ashamed of what he had just confessed.
"I - I just can't fight anymore."
The young witch's heart broke at the sound of sheer exhaustion in her partner's voice and she quickly wiped away her own stinging tears before climbing over his gangly limbs to straddle him, cupping his face with her hands and forcing him to look at her.
They had both lost their childhood and adolescent years in a harrowing spiral of battles for the greater good against the Dark Lord and his followers. They had seen and done things at the tender age of twelve that most children couldn't conjure up in their wildest dreams. They had paid the price for their children's freedom and bore the scars to prove it; scars that were carved into their flesh and some that were burned into their brains, announcing themselves in the dead of night only to disappear in a wake of strangled screams and uncontrollable sobbing.
And only they understood.
"You don't ever have to go back," Hermione promised, wiping the tears away from her husband's eyes. And it was true - they would figure something out. Whether it meant she went back to work, or that they blew through their savings until Ron found something that made him happy.
She only wished he had said something sooner.
Ronald ducked his head and nuzzled into the crook of her neck while she stroked his mop of ginger locks soothingly, burying her nose into the sea of fiery hair and inhaling deeply.
The fresh scent which wafted into her nostrils calmed her heart, reminding her of the Amortentia she had sniffed those many years ago in Professor Slughorn's classroom:
Freshly mown grass, new parchment, spearmint toothpaste and the last smell she had failed to blurt out had been this - the close, comforting scent of Ronald Weasley's hair.
They sat like that for a long time before her husband gave her a tight squeeze and released her, turning off the lamp with a wave of his hand as he sniffled a few more times.
"Love you, Mione."
"I love you too," Hermione whispered, snuggling closer to Ron as he wrapped his arms around her tightly before they both fell asleep in each other's embrace for the first time in far too long.