Hermione threw herself out of bed, nearly tripping over Ron's trousers in her haste to grab a robe. Oh dear God, Ron's trousers were on her bedroom floor.
"HERMIONE!" Lavender's shrill voice echoed through her apartment.
"Oh my God!" Hermione was frantic.
"Shite." Ron had woken up. "Okay she's going to wonder where I am. Alright, calm down. I'm going to Apparate over to Harry's and use him as a cover. For all you know, the last you saw of me was when I came back looking for your purse." He buttoned his shirt. "Look, this isn't exactly how I wanted to start the morning. Can we get together for lunch or something? We should probably talk about this."
"HERMIONE?" Lavender's voice seemed to grow louder.
"Fine, owl me later, just go!"
He nodded, grabbed his wand, and turned on the spot. Crack.
Hermione took a second to compose herself, and then walked out into the sitting room where Lavender's head was sitting in the fire. "Lav? Are you alright? Did you find your purse?"
"Can I come through?"
"Well…sure." Hermione stepped back as Lavender stalked into the room in a burst of flames.
"That bastard never came home last night. He was with some whore, I know it."
Hermione took a deep breath. Ron had speculated the night before about all the lies she had successfully told him, but to be honest, she was a terrible liar. And to make it worse, she was about to lie to the person most likely to see right through her.
"He never came home? Have you heard from him this morning?"
"No! God, I am never going to forgive him for this." Lavender sighed dramatically and collapsed into a chair at Hermione's kitchen table.
"Alright, breathe, Lav, let me make you a cup of tea." She put the kettle on the stove and had it whistling with a flick of her wand. "You really think he was cheating?"
"Well, I don't know. I never thought he'd have the stones to cheat on me, to be honest."
For one millisecond, Hermione felt irritated, but she quickly brushed it away. "Isn't it more likely that he probably just went for a drink and then overindulged?"
Lavender sipped her tea and looked thoughtful. "Well…it's possible."
"You should go home, Lav. Maybe he's trying to Floo you right now to beg for forgiveness." Hermione couldn't prevent her tone from touching on sarcastic but Lavender didn't seem to notice.
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks for calming me down, Hermione. Now I can really tear him a new one when he gets home."
"Uh, sure."
Lavender gave her a hug and walked back to the fireplace. "Oh, and I hope you had a good birthday! Love ya!" With that, she stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.
Hermione sat down and played with the rim of Lavender's abandoned cup of tea. With that simple parting birthday wish, Lavender had only dug the knife deeper. In a spurt of energy, Hermione jumped up, went to her bedroom, and ripped the sheets off her bed. Yes, she could have cleaned them by magic, but she had penance to do. Oh, she was going to burn in hell, for true.
For the rest of the morning, she cleaned. It was her own damn luck that the night of her 30th birthday, the night that she become her best friend's fiancé's 'other woman' was a Friday, so she couldn't even go in to work and distract herself. Soon enough, an owl was pecking at her window. She grabbed the envelope, gave the bird a treat and a pat on the head, and sat down to read.
Hermione-
I know you're probably freaking out right now, but calm down. I talked to Harry.
He's slightly peeved off at me, but he said he wouldn't tell Lavender. It turns out that he actually did go out drinking last night, so Ginny won't have to know. I didn't tell him that it was you, though, so don't say anything. Can we still get together for lunch? We need to talk.
-Ron.
Hermione set the letter down. For someone who didn't have the 'stones' to cheat, he sure had all his bases covered. She still felt like the worst friend in the world, but she felt less terrified that they were going to be caught. She sent the owl back to Ron, saying lunch would be fine, and suggesting a Muggle café down the street from her flat.
She didn't know what to expect when she got there. A man emaciated by his own grief and regret, maybe. But it was just Ron, the same as he'd always been. She sat down at the table he'd claimed and just looked at him.
"Well. Good morning." He smiled and grabbed a menu.
"We were drunk."
"So we're starting right now, then?" He put the menu back down. "I was hoping we could order first."
"How can you even think about your stomach? I couldn't even eat breakfast this morning I felt so sick."
"You haven't eaten breakfast? All the more reason to order."
"Ron!"
"Hermione, I'm hungry. You're probably hungry too. We can dissect last night all you want after we order."
She slid down in her seat a little. "How can you be so calm about this?"
He tapped his menu. "Like I said. After we order. I'm thinking a burger sounds good right now, what do you think?"
Hermione sullenly grabbed a menu, and when the waitress came around, ordered the first thing that sounded half decent. "Alright you ordered. Can we please talk now?"
"Whatever you say, Hermione." He folded his hands on the table and looked her in the eye. "What would you like to talk about?"
"Gah!" She fisted her hands in her hair and glared at him.
"Okay, that was just to get a rise out of you. I'll stop."
"We were drunk."
"Yes, you did say that before." He looked thoughtful. "I wasn't that drunk."
"What?"
"What do you mean 'what'? It was an innocent comment."
Hermione was ready to explode. "No. No, it wasn't an innocent comment, because if you weren't that drunk, that means for you it wasn't a drunken mistake so you knew what you were doing when we…you know." she gestured, hoping he would understand what she was saying.
"…made the beast with two backs?" Ron supplied helpfully.
"Stop it! Stop being so casual about this! You're getting married! It was a mistake. We are never going to mention this again, and we are going to continue on with our lives like it never happened. Got it?"
Ron stuck his tongue in his cheek, and looked down at his hands. "Alright."
The next few days, Hermione was still on edge, but it seemed she had nothing to worry about. Lavender seemed to buy Ron's excuse of a night of drinking and Harry didn't bring it up. She was home free. And really, that just made her feel all the worse.
Author's Note: Did I just oust myself as an American by Ron's desire for a burger? I know my attempt at British slang probably gave it away, but maybe I was fooling some of you? Anyway, the only really British cuisine I'm familiar with is fish and chips. And I couldn't write that without cringing: french fries are french fries. Chips are chips. There is no crossover. Silly Brits. (Aaaaaaand flame.) McEs.
