A/N: Firstly thank to all reviewers/alerters/favouriters. I applaud you all for your excellent taste.
*applauds*
I'm joking. I'm not actually that arrogant.
Anyway, sorry the second installment took forever but I went on holiday abroad so I couldn't write, upload or respond to any messages or reviews. I was attempting to get this done before I went but I really didn't want to rush it. Plus I left my packing to the last minute. And I had tried to cure the post-England-major-tournament-knock-out blues with alcohol and writing drunk isn't advisable, kids. Neither is drinking, although it is fun when done responsibly. *end of after-school special*
ANYWAY, now I'm back in the land of beautiful, beautiful rain (the news isn't joking when they call it a heat wave, is it?) and not jaywalking across the land of the free, lying price tags (at what point was adding tax on at the till considered a good idea? Seriously?) and some of the most helpful homeless people I have ever met, I will hopefully be updating and responding to your reviews and messages a lot quicker.
And FINALLY here is some fiction I decided to add on to this A/N. Laters.
Disclaimer: Blink 182 owns After Midnight and anything that belongs to me that they want for playing an acoustic version of my favourite song off of Enema when I saw them the other week.
J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. I now own a set of the U.S Potter books and can't stop marveling at Wavy-Quaff!Ron and Rasputin!Snape in the chapter pictures.
These Nights – 14th November 1999
We'll fall apart at the weekend
These nights go on and on and on
Ron took a sip of his butterbeer and placed it none too gently back down on the bar, earning a disgruntled protest from the man next to him. After a slow day at work, he, Harry and the rest of the aurors on shift had decided to come to the Leaky Cauldron for a few pints. As usual the word had spread and now the pub was filled with ministry workers who were glad to be out of their underground offices. Obviously the first person that he had invited via an inter-office memo was Hermione. She had agreed straight away and, despite arriving an hour later than everyone else because she just couldn't drag herself away from her desk, was here now and had brought along a couple of people from her department.
Ron scowled as he watched her across the pub, chatting away amicably to her colleagues. He could see the woman with dark brown hair, who he could never remember the name of so always referred to as The Other One, glaring at Hermione and Ron suppressed a chuckle. Despite starting at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures a year before Hermione had, she was apparently still being given mostly filing duties, while Hermione was already being eyed up for a promotion to become the lead assistant for the Head of the Werewolf Services Office. Hermione regularly came home fuming about the snide comments the woman made about her only being fast-tracked because she was famous and younger.
Next to her was another woman who Ron remembered as being Hermione's assistant manager, Gwen Something-or-other. She was in her mid-twenties, a touch over-weight and Ron had always found her to be a laugh whenever he had spoken to her.
If it had only been the women then Ron would have been over there now with Hermione, cracking jokes with Gwen and praising Hermione just to annoy the other one, but unfortunately she had brought Him as well.
Tom Bale.
Everything about the man infuriated Ron. The way his brown hair was always neat and tidy, regardless of how over-worked he was. The way he was so laid back and easy going that people seemed to relax by being in the same room as him. The way his expensive-looking robes were never ruffled or creased. The way everyone called him Patrick even though it wasn't his name. Hermione had explained once that his father was also called Tom so his family addressed him by his middle name and it had stuck. Ron argued that it was stupid to name a kid something you were never going to call it which had led to an argument and he and Hermione sleeping in separate beds that night.
That was the thing that annoyed him the most: the amount of arguments he and Hermione had that seemed to be centred on Patrick-fucking-Bale. Of course, Ron thought, taking a swig of his drink, they wouldn't have the arguments if Bale wasn't such a smarmy tosser, who clearly thought Ron was some kind of pond life. He could remember the first time he had met Bale, on the Hogwarts Express. He had been Head Boy and had introduced Ron and the other fifth-year prefects to the rules and regulations. He had thought him a boring snob then, but now it was worse. Now he spent a lot of time with Ron's girlfriend, who didn't seem to mind one bit.
Ron watched as Bale said something that Hermione obviously found hilarious as she had started laughing. Not, Ron realised with a stab of anger, the reserved laugh she normally used in public or in front of people she didn't know, but a full-on belly laugh. Ron gripped the bar so hard his knuckles turned white. That was his laugh. Not Bale's, his. The bastard followed his joke up with another 'witty' line and Hermione actually gripped his arm for support.
Unable to take much more, Ron picked up his drink and the one he had brought for Hermione and made his way over to the group, desperately trying not to spill the drinks in his shaking hands.
"-and he didn't even realise he had done it!" he heard the tosser's voice say over a rowdy bunch from Magical Sport in the corner, who were shooting beer mats at each other with their wands. Swerving around a barmaid and her levitating tray, Ron finally reached the small group stood near the window.
"Seriously though, Hermione, you should get yourself online," Bale told Hermione earnestly.
"I doubt we could in our house," Hermione chuckled with a slight shake of her head, "even with all the renovations. The first time my parents visited, my father was locked in the bathroom because the door refused to let him out."
Trying not to laugh at the memory of having to rescue Mr Granger from the first floor bathroom at Grimmauld Place and having to explain the house's anti-Muggle leanings, Ron nudged his way in between Hermione and Bale.
"Here you go, love," he smiled as he passed her the drink he had brought her. She took it and gave him that smile he treasured more than his own heartbeat.
"Ooh thanks!" she said before taking a small sip.
"You sound a bit surprised."
His face hardening into stone, Ron turned to see Bale addressing Hermione and he fought down the urge to punch him. He had been in his company an entire five seconds. It was a new record.
"I didn't mean it like that, Ron," Hermione said soothingly.
"I know," Ron replied, trying not to let his annoyance show through. He was sick of arguing all the time and was determined to have a nice drink with his girlfriend despite the present company. She rubbed his arm in a calming manner, which usually helped him when he was on edge, but this time it just reminded him of how she had been touching Bale's arm just before he had arrived.
"How long is it you two have been together now?" Bale asked, tipping his bottle of butterbeer towards the couple.
"Um…"
"Just over eighteen months," answered Hermione with an annoyed glance at Ron for hesitating, while Gwen said "Aww" and gave them an affectionate look.
Meanwhile Hermione's other female colleague rolled her eyes and sarcastically drawled, "What a lovely couple."
Ignoring the jealous bitch's latest dig at Hermione, Ron bit the side of his cheek to stop him snapping at Hermione for her thinking he didn't know how long ago they'd been together. Of course he knew! He knew the date and time of their first kiss, the first "I love you" and the first time they had slept together. He could've even given her a score out of ten for all of them (ten, eleven and sixty-four respectively) if that had been the question. His ability to work out how long ago those things happened off the top of his head surely wasn't how she was going to work out how much he loved her, was it? What did she expect him to do? Wake up every morning and work out exactly how many days, hours and seconds it had been?
Bale would probably have known obviously. He would give his girlfriend flowers on their seventy-four day anniversary and give her a necklace on date number twenty-seven. Ron glared at the smug face that had just turned to him, his cold, blue eyes mocking him, knowing that he had asked the question on purpose to make him look stupid in front of Hermione.
"She should be used to you buying her drinks after eighteen months," Baled jibed, nudging Ron with his elbow.
"I'm sure she would think it was rude to expect me to buy drinks for her, Tom," Ron scowled. He may not be winning Witch Weekly's Gentleman of the Year Award any time soon but he still liked to think he was a good boyfriend. Somehow, in just two sentences, Bale had insinuated he was mistaken for a multitude of reasons.
Bale's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of his given name. "Didn't mean anything by it, Ronald," he said plainly.
At the use of his given name, Ron tightened his grip on his drink so that his fingers started to ache and he felt his ears go red.
"Now, now, girls," laughed Gwen shakily, "you both have pretty hair."
Gwen's attempt to break the tension worked and everyone in their group laughed, Bale included. Ron gave a weak smile. It was all he was capable of when his ears were full of Bale's ridiculous sounding chortle. Unable to look at him anymore, Ron looked to his left to see Hermione glaring at him and his stomach shrank. Something told him it was going to take every bit of his will power and charm to prevent him sleeping alone tonight.
Before Ron could even attempt to swallow his pride, Hermione had already turned back to Bale.
"You were saying, Patrick?" she asked in a voice of forced politeness. "About the internet?"
"Oh yes," nodded Bale, "still look into getting it. Soon the web will be everywhere-"
"Web?" yelped Ron. "What web?"
Everyone turned to him and Ron mentally kicked himself. He had obviously said something stupid but he didn't know what. A web of any description being 'everywhere' was surely a matter for concern.
"It's nothing to do with spiders, Ron," Hermione reassured him kindly and Ron relaxed. He loved how she somehow knew what he was thinking all the time. Admittedly it could be annoying at times, but the line between annoyance and affection had always been blurry when it came to Hermione.
"I was going to say…" Ron began after a sip of his drink before Bale interrupted him.
"Is the auror afraid of spiders?" he asked incredulously. Gwen looked resigned; she was used to Bale and Ron's interactions by now. So was The Other One, however, instead of being bored and uncomfortable, she looked amused, much to Ron's embarrassment.
"No!" Ron lied, feeling his ears burn red as he did. "I mean, I'm not their biggest fan but-"
"You're afraid of spiders!" exclaimed Bale, now laughing openly. "Maybe I could sign up for the aurors..."
Thinking the chances of the auror office letting in someone who ran away into hiding the year Voldemort took over were pretty low, especially someone who looked as though they had never duelled in their whole privileged life like Bale did, Ron shot a glare at Hermione for bringing up his arachnophobia. He had enough trouble stopping Bale making him look like a fool; he didn't need her helping him.
"He had a run-in with a family of acromatula a few years ago," Hermione explained. She flashed Ron a quick apologetic smile and he tried to give her one in return but his face failed him. While he could always count on Hermione having his back, Ron couldn't help but notice that she hadn't all out denied it but just made excuses for him. In fact she had lied. She knew full well his fear pre-dated his meeting with Aragog by several years. She knew the story about his teddy bear, the broken broomstick and Fred.
Ron took another swig of his drink and ended up downing over half of it. Being reminded of Fred wasn't going to help him keep his head. The dangerous mix of alcohol, Bale and grief was churning inside of him.
"Really?" he heard Gwen ask, sounding sincerely interested. "What happened?"
"Yippee," said The Other One snorted. "Another Hermione Granger's Adventures in Hogwarts story."
"Well," Hermione said, giving no indication that she heard The Other One speak, "I wasn't there-"
"So maybe it was just a lie to impress you?" cut in Bale humourously.
"Bloody hell, Patrick," Gwen said, eyeing Ron with admiration. "It's impressing me! No offense intended, Hermione," she added, smiling at Hermione. Hermione opened her mouth, probably to tell Gwen she knew that she had meant nothing by her comment, but Ron had already spoken.
"What are you trying to say?" he fired at Bale aggressively. Ron didn't like being called a liar, especially by this prick. Who was he to judge Ron anyway? Bale didn't know him. He didn't know what it was like to have spiders big enough to carry him try to kill him. He didn't know Ron had only just turned thirteen when the incident had occurred. More importantly, Bale didn't know the first thing about his relationship with Hermione, how it had been built on more than a few casual dates and some impressive chat-up lines.
"Just seems convenient," Bale shrugged before taking a sip of his Firewhiskey. "I remember after that Triwizard task that your story differed slightly from the version Cho told us in Ravenclaw."
"I wish I'd still been at Hogwarts for that," Gwen jumped in, spotting the obvious need for some drastic distraction to keep Ron and Bale from starting a huge argument in the middle of the pub. "Well, obviously not the last part, but you know what I mean," she back-tracked. "Drink anyone? Hermione? Drella?"
Hermione shook her head but Drella – Drella, he'd have to remember that this time – downed the rest of her drink in response to Gwen's desperate call for escape and moved to the bar with her, leaving Ron alone with Bale and Hermione.
Ron didn't have to look at Hermione to know that she was angry with him. She had probably only refused to get another drink to keep an eye on him. The three of them stood in an incredibly awkward silence and waited for the others to return, meaning than Ron had time to stew in his own frustration. He wanted another drink but he wasn't going to leave Hermione alone with Bale.
Why couldn't anyone else see what was going on here? Bale clearly had a thing for his girlfriend. He took every opportunity to make Ron look like an idiot or show everyone how he was better. Ron wouldn't mind if Hermione would just realise this, but she insisted they were just colleagues and that Ron was being unreasonable.
The first time he had implied she might like Bale in any other way, Hermione had refused to speak to him for a week. Eventually Ron had shelved his pride and apologised for saying that of course she didn't fancy the good-looking, rich intellectual who supported her views on elf rights and whatever else it was they did at work. Of course, he hadn't put it like that; he wasn't that stupid.
Ron's thoughts were broken into by a small cough to his right. He turned to see Bale looking sheepish, his blinding white teeth, shining in a contrite smile.
"Sorry about all that, Ron," he said with doleful expression on his stupid pompous face. "I was just joking. I honestly didn't mean anything."
He held out his hand for Ron to shake. Ron stared at it, wanting nothing more than to snap it right off, but he caught a pointed glare from Hermione and obliged.
"I know," Ron shrugged, quickly letting go and hoping he'd had have the opportunity to wash his hand soon. He gave the smallest possible smile he could and Bale returned it with interest. At this, Ron felt his blood turn to ice. He didn't know what it was but every time he met Bale's eyes, he was always struck by how cold they were, like there was nothing behind them. The man had a smooth answer for everything but it was always so automated, so frozen, like he was an actor, trained for every circumstance. It was unnerving.
Ron felt Hermione's foot press down on his own. Instead of jumping in shock, he looked to see her staring at him. Her eyes, unlike Bale's, always showed how she felt. Right now, they were burning, screaming at him.
"Nothing else you'd like to say, Ron?" she asked as politely as she could through gritted teeth.
He couldn't believe it. She actually wanted him to apologise! Who was she? His mum? Bale had started the whole thing. She was there, she had seen it. There was no way Ron was going to say sorry for sticking up for himself.
"Did you see the Tornadoes score last night?" Ron said to Bale as brightly as he could manage. "Wasn't that The Pride's first win this season?" He took a sip of his drink and watched with pleasure as Bale's cold smile become strained.
"Yes, I did. They played well, I'll give them that," Bale replied diplomatically.
"Oh, of course!" Ron cried, not caring how obvious he was being. "I forgot you're a fan. Shame about your seeker being out for the rest of the season, isn't it?"
"It is," nodded Bale, tipping his glass towards Ron. "Not as bad as being a Beater down because he flew into a goal post and then knocked his own Keeper out with his bat, but still a shame."
Before Ron could retort, he felt a small hand clap him on the back and turned to see Gwen and - Ellen wasn't it? - had returned.
"Oh, that was hilarious!" laughed Gwen. "I know you're a die-hard Cannons supporter, Ron, but you have to admit that was pretty spectacular, even for them."
Despite his Quidditch team's embarrassing failure, Ron smiled. He had been a Cannon's fan for most of his life and was therefore used to the constant ribbing from other fans. He knew that Gwen, unlike Bale, didn't mean it as a personal attack.
"All right, all right," sighed Ron with a roll of his eyes. "Just because the Arrow's are top at the league and-"
"Ooh," she squealed in delight, "say it again."
"Oh look," Hermione interrupted stonily, "there's Harry. Let's go and speak to him."
"But-" protested Ron, but Hermione had gripped him painfully tight around the elbow.
"See you tomorrow, everyone," she said brightly to the group before yanking Ron away, leaving them all looking a bit confused. Ron glanced over Hermione's head and saw they were not heading in the direction of their mutual best friend and knew he was in for a bollocking, one that he was more than prepared for.
As expected, Hermione managed to find the quietest corner of the pub, stopped, spun around and took a deep breath. Ron counted three whole seconds in his head before Hermione eventually realised that no amount of air was going to calm her down and she snapped. Even though a small part of him was scared and an even smaller part felt a bit guilty, Ron felt proud of himself for bringing proper little Hermione Granger to breaking point, like only he could. Not anyone else, not even Bale… Him.
"Why you must you act like this in front of my colleagues?" she hissed. "You're embarrassing me!"
"I was just talking about Quidditch!" Ron guffawed. "That's hardly-"
"You know full well that that isn't what I'm referring to," growled Hermione in a low voice.
"Dunno what you mean."
Her eyes widened slightly at his stubborn tone and careless shrug, but Ron stared her down. Later this would blow up into a huge screaming match, but Ron knew she wouldn't cause a scene in such a public place, not since a journalist had overheard one of their less serious rows a couple of weeks after the battle and Witch Weekly and all the other girly magazines had made their 'Public Break-up' front page news for a month.
Ron didn't care either way. At least if the papers said they were on the rocks it meant everyone would still know that she was with him. At least he had her attention. At least she wouldn't be talking to Bale. At least she still cared enough to be angry.
Hermione looked at him for a long time and Ron thought he saw something like sadness in her deep, brown eyes. Instantly he regretted ever goading Bale about his Quidditch team or whatever else it was he had done to make her look like that.
"Is this what it is going to be like every time you two are in the same room?" she asked him quietly.
He knew he should have said sorry. He knew he should have said he was wrong and she was right. He knew he should have said that he wasn't jealous of her friendship with Bale and all the time she spent with him, that it was great that she had made friends at work and that they should invite him around for dinner one night, but he couldn't. Ron knew he had problems when it came to seeing Hermione with other blokes but this was different; this time it was justified.
This time he was right and she was wrong and not the upset written all over Hermione's pretty face or the knowledge that he would have his bed to himself tonight was going to make him say otherwise, so Ron said nothing.
"I'm going home," Hermione announced sharply. "Say goodbye to Harry for me. Don't bother seeing me out."
Without another word, Hermione brushed passed Ron and made her way through the crowd to the Muggle street outside. Ron watched her and, for what could've been the millionth time since she had stormed into his life all those years ago, tried to suppress the swelling sense of guilt, shame and confusion that always accompanied Hermione Granger walking away from him.
A/N 2: Yup. Another one.
Firstly, I know. First a plot and now an O/C. What next? Writing my own characters in a world of my own invention and not being a parasite on the belly of a huge publishing phenomenon? Who knows?
Secondly, congratulations to any Spanish readers on winning the Euro. I would feel sorry for any Italians but it still hurts.
Thirdly, thanks for reading.
