Sorry for the wait, I hope you all think it was worth it. This part takes place directly after Hermione stands up during Ron's Marriage and objects to the union between himself and Magdalena.
- Are supposed to represent inner thoughts.
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Whoever said 'Silence is golden', was a bloody Git. And the bloke who said 'Hey, that's pretty profound, mate. Let's write it down so that future generations can benefit from this brilliant piece of wisdom.' was a first-rate Prat. But still, here I sit. Being all 'golden' because once upon a time some Git and Prat thought it was a bloody great idea for me to do so.
It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the laughable fact that sitting opposite to me was the one person in all the world I wish I could talk to. Talk to and explain this whole mess with. But I can't. I made myself a pledge, and it is one, whether good or bad, that I have to see through to the bitter end. Sure, some might say that what I'm doing is all noble, gallant, heroic, sacrificing as well as a few other chivalrous words that basically means, when you apperated all the fluffy-hype away, is that what I really am is a sucker for any girl in distress. But what could I have done? Looking back now there were probably a dozen things, but recrimination has always been a personal specialty of mine so why change something I have been able to perfect to a 'T'?
I swear if you looked up Pillock in the Dictionary you would most likely see the name 'Ronald Weasley' inscribed as being a perfect example to it's living and breathing meaning. Sure, Charlie was as proud as punch and as honored as honored could be at my resolution to play a 'White Knight' to this Damsel. But in truth I suspect he was more relieved that I was the one who decided to 'step-up' and take this thing on my shoulder's, thereby sparing him of doing such. Smug-Bastard.
God! How can something that was to be so simple-and-quiet become so bloody complicated-and-loud all within a matter of days? Oh yeah, now I remember. I decided to listen to the advice of the infallible Harry 'I-always-know-whats-right- for-everyone' Potter.
'Ron, you have to invite Hermione, she's your best mate. Besides, you owe it to her after all the nonsense you've put her through over the past few years. You can't just get married and not have her be there. Especially when you have invited just about everyone else that you and your family know. People will notice her absence and ask 'why'. Is that something you want to answer time-and-time again? And who knows, maybe this will even give her a chance at closure and to finally start mooning after some other bloke. Look, if you're worried that she'll make some kind of scene or commotion then set your mind at rest – She won't, I swear it. She only wants for you what the rest of us do and that is for you to be happy.'
Gee, thanks Harry. What would have today been like if not for your sage counsel? Oh, that's right … it would have been a flippin' WEDDING for starters. You know what Harry? The next time I see you I gonna remind you of that little evocation of yours on 'Mione's behalf and then I'm going to plant my foot so far into your bollocks that your kids and grandkids will be born cross-eyed.
Still, he did have a point. The Git.
I owed it to her to help find some peace of mind and to finally accept that I would never come back to her, at least not back in the manner she thought I would. Every Owl I received from Harry or Ginny where the Hermione Topic was touched on was a cold cruelty to me. Their tactics were pretty clear and obvious, they were shaming me to return home and repair what had broken between her and me. The laugh was that nothing was broken, at least nothing in my eyes, therefore by this reasoning nothing needed repairing.
Harry would dedicate on average a single paragraph per-letter on how lonely and miserable I had made her and that she was living a 'Nun's Lifestyle' as a penance for everything she thought she had done to me. That was bad enough, but Ginny was a whole lot colder. I could easily go for months and not receive a single note about Hermione from her and then out of the blue I would get an Owl all but dropping from out of the sky, suffering from exhaustion and some hernia type aliment after carrying thirty to forty pieces of parchment - all outlining in detail of what an unforgiving 'Arse' I am for making Hermione pine and suffer for lack of me.
Hells-Bells, I didn't need them to tell me that I had been a willful bastard, but how could I admit to them the extent of my own feelings? They would have used it against me, or at least provided Hermione hope that I desired reconciliation. The best I could ever do was offer the occasional question in my own correspondence and enquire subtly into how she was.
Yes, I know. I was a true coward that morning, and a spiteful one at that. I should have hashed things out with her before fleeing to Romania and to Charlie's Dragon Preserve. But I didn't. I left it all one-sided. Her tears flowed down her cheek and her words were all choked in regret and I know that all she wanted from me was to engage her in discussion over what she did at the Party and what she had said to me after. She wanted me to 'talk' about my feelings and reveal my most hidden and inner-most thoughts. But I couldn't. I mean, how could I reason against all that stuff she said? Especially, if when you cut down to the bone of it all, that all the rot she said about me wasn't true, or nonsense that I hadn't heard before from either her or an umpteenth number other people.
I can't change who I am, nor should I. Those were my thoughts and feelings then, and by Merlin's Wand they remain my thoughts and feelings now too.
I'll never be posh, clever or sophisticated. I'll only ever need to use one bloomin' fork for a meal instead of eleven. And I make no apologies for the fact that Qudditich, to me, will indeed always be viewed as the greatest creation of man - EVER! Quite easily surpassing in my opinion all the other contributions made by humans like language, the wheel, electricity and toilet paper. We-e-e-e-l-l-l-l, maybe not toilet paper, I suppose Quidditch and toilet paper are even, but as ties go it is probably as close as they get.
I mean you can't transfigure feathers onto a cow and then call it a bird. And if Hermione couldn't accept me for me, with my favors and flaws all, then it would be far better for both of us, certainly her, if we just ended things before we had both gotten too far down that road to ever turn around and get back to the place from where we originally came.
If I didn't sever things then and accept the obvious truth of our future together, then Hermione sure as Hell wouldn't. Because even though she may be opinionated and a read pain on the backside 70 of the time, she is also, without doubt, one of the most loyal and most determined people I have ever met. And she would have stuck it out with me, no matter how embarrassing I was for her, or of the humiliation and misery I bought into her life as being the bloke she had chosen to shackle herself to. And just because I wasn't much of a specimen in the Boyfriend Department, like she said, it didn't mean I ever wanted, or had the right, to drag her down and have her live her life at my level. Especially when she had it in herself to soar higher and further then I ever could. After all, she was intelligent, beautiful, respectful, sincere, passionate, a hard worker and full of all types of social graces and good manners. Everything I wasn't. She could be perhaps the youngest Minister of Magic of all time, if she ever put a tenth of her mind to it
If I hadn't committed myself to my decision that fateful morning to leave and had instead stayed then I would have bought her nothing but misfortune. When the novelty of me being seen as a 'Hero' had worn out in people's memories, then any boorish behaviors of mine would have stopped being excusable to them. For the sake of her bright future, brilliant career and maybe even her sanity, I had to remain true to my course and separate her name from mine. She was better off without me being in the picture, that way she could go to as many high-brow Social Do's as she wanted and dance with as many respectable bloke's she wished, all without thinking or worrying over how it might look to others or feeling guilty over it all.
But to be honest I couldn't say this decision was an easy one for me to make, she was, and is, my heart and my next breath. When she had popped into the Burrow with red eyes, mascara streaks down her cheeks, frizzled hair, wailing like a Banshee, apologizing and then asking me to forgive her. It took everything I had to remain centered and unmoved by her words. This action, however, was not impossible and was made all the easier given that the words she had spoken several hours before had contained a taunting air of Voldermort.
As she spoke at length, in my minds-memory, I just replayed her earlier words and added a serpentine hiss to them. She could say sorry and deny what she said as being a reliable reflection of how she saw me, but if there is one thing I have learned over the many years of being a Weasley it's that words and comments made in the heat of the moment, though usually tactless and poorly timed, are also and typically ones that reveal the true thoughts of the person speaking them.
I suspect, Hermione, was more troubled because she had let her guard and defenses down and that in her diatribe she revealed the things she was keeping secure and hidden, if not from me, then quite possibly from her very self. But the trouble with this was that I already knew all my faults and had come to accept them as things that would eternally define me. After all, when you've inadvertently played host to a piece of a soul from the vilest Wizard in history and then given said-wizard's-soul free reign of all your personal history, fears, thoughts, hopes and loves. And then have all these doubts and insecurities exposed to you and given paranoid form. Then no insult, even from the person you love more then your own life, could ever take away the eternal pain and the quiet burden of hubris from you.
For me to have remained in England would have been a selfish act, one that would only prove to many others the validity of the critisms she spoke that morning. For the two of us to continue socializing in the same group of friends and pretending that 'all was well', it would have been an uncomfortable situation for her to be placed in. And it would have also placed Harry and everyone else in a position where they would have had to pick some kind of side in it all.
Leaving and giving her this time to be surrounded by supportive people who were not torn in their loyalties between her and me was the only thing I could do. After all, Hermione always did have problems making friends, most of the ones she has now are ones that were Harry's and mine first. This is mainly because very few people could look beyond her bookish ways and see that her direct and matter-of-fact manner was one that she used as a defense against her poor social skills. As such very few people ever had the patience to tolerate or even look beyond this 'wall' of hers to be able to get to know the incredible witch she was. Hell, if it wasn't for Harry's guilt and one stupid Mountain Troll bumbling into Hogworts on Halloween I doubt that I could have ever have counted myself amongst that number.
More often then not she would inadvertently place many potential friends and people at odds against her, even though she wouldn't know it. I cannot name the number of times I had to stand over a 'midget' or some other upper-year student because they wanted to complain to McGonnagall over her inflexibility as a House Prefect. She may have thought she was being fair and doing her duty, but what she was actually doing was making a decent amount of students unhappy. Students who were seeking her expulsion from the prestigious role of Prefect, claiming that 'Power and Authority had gone to her head rubbish'. If such a thing as being demoted to just a 'Senior' ever happened it would have destroyed her. If she only knew the number of times I had to sprint up those ruddy stone block stairs between classes or from the Common Room to that old Bird's Office in order to head-off some pissed Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Raveclaw and Gryffindore student that had just been given detention or loss of points from her. This used to get Lavender right pissed at me, I suppose from me playing this whole 'Knight'-crap for her made, Lav-Lav, think I could never not help her, even when we were at odds with one another.
This was the main reason why I rarely found the bloody time to do my fifth and sixth year Assignments properly. I was always too busy watching out for her arse. And then just like her when I went and asked for some help she would turn around and lecture me on my poor time management, or my mental laziness at not doing a decent job on my work. I used to always silently chuckle to myself at that. But when she was leaning over and correcting my efforts and adding the odd tsk tsk sound that she always did when she found some inconceivable error in my work. I would swear on my wand that I would fight any battle of hers as long as it always gave me the chance to sit this close and to be able to smell that blissful smelling shampoo she used. But this was only a Schoolboy's dream and an idiot's wish, and I am well and truly of 'Age' now so such thoughts can no-longer exist for me.
At any rate, I believed she needed Harry a lot more then I did. I can remember his arguing as I packed my stuff that fateful morning. With him telling me, bordering on yelling, that there was plenty of him to go around and that I didn't have to scarper. And when he realized that I was going to go regardless to his softly-softly approach, he changed tact. He began stating that he wasn't exclusively anyone's property and I had no right to dictate to him who he should spend more time with. Looking back on this moment it still almost makes me laugh. Harry, trying to hold his decency to ransom in a manner to bully me towards remaining. How is that not funny? It was a bluff, a good bluff and one that nearly worked, but a bluff just the same. The trouble was that Harry was too good of a person to turn his back on one mate just because he was angered at another. No matter what rot he threatened me with I knew he would be there for Hermione, no matter how chucked off he was at her.
Harry also said that I was an idiot if I thought going away for a month would solve anything. A month. Yeah, that's what it was going to be … originally. I was going to show up on Charlie's doorstep with a sob-story, one that would appeal to his overprotective nature as a big brother and ask him to put me up for a few weeks. Pleading with him to let me earn my keep by helping around the Preserve in some fashion or another.
It so happened that fortune had finally smiled upon me with the timing of my unexpected arrival. As only a day before another 'Handler' at the Preserve had gotten himself gobbled-up by a pregnant Dragon. One who was going through a 'pickles-and-ice cream' moment (though it was fortuneous for me, I doubt the same could be said for him). I was enthusiastically accepted into the Dragon Keeper's Brethren for all of three reasons. The first was that the guy I was replacing (the one that had been eaten), was apparently a real arse. So my presence was considered a definite improvement from the alternative that had previously existed for them.
Second, they were playing a game of Quidditch with a rival group who took care of Griffon's in Lithuania in a week's time and were in desperate need of a decent Keeper. And third, I was Charlie's younger brother. The one who he never stopped boasting about. Apparently I had earned a little bit of a fan base there thanks to him talking about my various adventures at Hogworts, fighting side-by-side with THE Harry Potter. This, and my recent acceptance of the First Order of Merlin only helped cement my standing as having the sand to face up to any disagreeable scale-head.
The month eventually strayed to a year, and a year to three. There was nothing diabolical about my choice to remain; I found the work there both enjoyable and distracting. But sadly not distracting enough to forget why I left England in the first place. Hermione Granger's ghost was always there in whatever I did.
How could I ever return home until I had gotten over the impact she had in my life?
I eventually decided that though I could not change who I was, that it did not mean that I could not do things that wouldn't help me 'grow' into someone I wanted to be. I began to use my clout as a War Hero to intimidate some of the various Magical Ministries around Europe to fund other Preserves in their own countries. In Germany we organized Giants, in Russia we had Centaurs, in Spain … well the list kinda went on and on and eventually it started to develop a life of it's own after a while. I had, more or less, taken the confrontational concept of 'Mione's S.P.E.W. effort back in our fourth year and made it more accepting for some of the traditionalist Wizards and Witches out there. Was I proud of what I did and accomplished? Damn right, I was. But I still couldn't come home. If I came home to Mum and Dad, doing the prodigal son returning thing, I would have been defenseless to forgetting why I had left in the first place and vulnerable to Hermione. I couldn't return back to the Burrow, my family and friends until I was 'protected' from her.
Every night I would go to sleep wishing that the following morning I would wake up and love her less, or that I would receive an owl from either Harry or Ginny offering me the eventual word that she was dating some Pure-Blood prat. Neither option, truth be told, actually thrilled me. And when it became obvious that both our separate motives were in a figurative staring-competition with one another (her staying single and me staying away until she had started her life anew), I decided that it fell to me to be the one to 'blink' first. So I did in the form of a seventeen year old gypsy girl who used to pass through the Preserve with the rest of her family-tribe eight-times a year.
I had first met the Cosma Tribe as I was searching for a wounded Horntail that had escaped one of our Healing Tent's. Sure it might have been a youngster, but even a prepubescent Horntail can cause more strife then many could deal with.
I was flying over the northern sector and I spotted their Caravan's receiving a bit of a roasting from said frightened and the very confused fire-lizard. I doubt it had ever seen a caravan before and it was looking to it as a bit of a threat to him in his injured state. I sent out a flare and did some distracting swooping on the youngster to draw it away from those trapped within. There was no way I was going to tackle one of these things alone, especially an injured one, without appropriate backup from Charlie and the others. When the team did eventually arrive we all did our selected part and took this 'troublemaker' of ours down safely. Then I went about transfiguring the various damage that was done by the little-bugger's antics so that the frightened group could be on their way. Yet in doing so I earned the goggling and appreciative eyes of a 15-year old girl who was looking upon me as the independent savior of her family.
After that little adventure they would stop by our Base whenever they entered the Preserve and sought out safe passage through the Protected Region by having one of us flying point for them until they exited the zone.
More often then not, as the junior Handler, this task fell to me to perform. It wasn't that I minded the 'contact' with the Gypsies, infact I could very well relate to their simple lifestyle. I even took a couple of their kids on Broom-rides, something that endeared me to the traveling group and had them ask me out by name. But after a few run's it became obvious that little Magdalena was developing a crush upon the dashing red-headed Wizard who flew on a broom and did battle with fierce Dragon's. It was a simple fascination and it was one that was in itself both harmless and amusing to me, and I have to admit I was developing a bit of a soft-spot for her because of all the hero-worship she did. Personally, I can't understand how Harry was unable to enjoy the admiration and attention he got as the 'Boy-who-lived', but then again I suppose that what makes him and me different.
Anyway, three-weeks ago everything changed. And it changed in a way that forced me to return home to England and confront, or rather do my best to avoid, the life I had abandoned three-years earlier.
Even before I Port-Keyed in I knew that things would not go smoothly for me. Hermione, had bottled up in her three-years worth of pent up emotion, so when I finally appeared back at the Burrow presenting a fiancée that my family and closest friend wasn't even aware I had, I knew that it would cause nothing but confusion and a lot of hurt. As such, I guess it was predictable that her ruining my Wedding Day in some form should have been a given affair, even for a Novice-Diviner. Afterall, I still hold across my brow two small and faint scars caused my magical canneries, and all I did was kiss Lavender for those. Still, corrupting the integrity of the actual Ceremony itself? I never thought 'Mione would ever have the balls to go to that extreme. But she did, which I guess pretty much tells me exactly just how pissed off she is with me.
Tomorrow morning there will be undoubtedly a Front Page expose in The Prophet, as well as its society section; of the uproar she created at the 'Wedding of the Decade'. And a few photos of shocked guests who had invited themselves to the event.
It was all supposed to be a quiet get together of family and select friends, but as soon as my name appeared on the Marriage Certificate at the Department of Romantic Bondings, it became a real circus for fellow veterans, Ministry Official's, Witches and Wizard Celebrities, friends-of-friends-of-friends-of-friends. Afterall, I was the only War-Hero of integrity getting married. That statement by the Press only had me ask what the 'ell have Harry, Ginny and Hermione had been getting themselves up in the interim?! I received a very humorous retelling by George over some of the 'scandals' that had taken place in my absence and of which Harry and Ginny had chosen to spare me of the sorted details. It was nice to see George slowly returning back to his old jovial self, but I knew in my heart that the mirthful spirit he once had would never be reclaimed, Fred was too much part of his soul for him to ever move on.
He told me of Harry and Ginny's various 'pregnancy' scares, of a few claims of Harry cheating on my little sister. Then there was the allegation that Hermione had been involved in some inappropriate acquisitions of funds from her Department at the Ministry. George even went on to share many of the other rumors that had circulated around these three that never made print but had been gossiped about in Diagon Alley. As twisted as it sounds, I never allowed myself to laugh so hard as I did that night in close to five years. Especially when I was told that one of the theories of why Harry hadn't made Ginny an honest woman yet was because he was gay and that I had left because he and I were in some weird guy-guy relationship with the other and I had made the demand that he chose between me and my little sister and that Ginny had won out. Leaving me to depart to places unknown a broken hearted soul.
Hearing from my older brother some of the stuff directed towards Hermione was the hardest to find humor in. Afterall I still had that same streak in me that I had when we were both Prefect's together. I wanted to go about and fix her problems and spare her any embarrassment and humiliation. Just like Harry, Hermione had tried to avoid the public eye wherever possible. And because of her celibate social life she had earned the question from the general magical public on whether or not she was a lesbian. My impromptu departure from the England after being seen escorting her to the Victor's Ball, the one that started this mess, provided the fodder that I feared. One story was that I had caught her in some sexual act with another guest and I broke up with her there and then. Another was that after the Dance we got all romantic together and then had sex. Later she found out that she was pregnant she decided to use a spell to aborted it. All without consulting this decision with me first. I eventually 'discovered' her deception which resulted in me dumping her and leaving.
It was hearing these last few tales that killed my amusement. I was beginning to understand the extent of the innuendoes that had been allowed to circulate in my absence. Lies of which I had been protected from. Romania may have provided me with a simple and alternative lifestyle (of which I now totally get why Charlie loves it so much), but it also kept me out of the spot light.
It was through George that I finally learned the Department at the Ministry in which, Hermione, was working at. Over the many letters and parchment's I received, I was never told she worked for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. This was the same Department I would regularly correspond with and it made me wonder if I had ever indirectly written to her in a formal capacity to lift tour restrictions, or seek out licenses for myself to handle near-behemoth sized creatures. Considering the size of this Department – one Minister, a Sub- Minister and 6-clerks, it is more then likely that I did. I should have been right-annoyed when I learned of this possibility, but I wasn't. In a funny kind of way it was a totally Hermione thing to do. With her brain's she could have had her pick of any Department post in the Ministry, but she chose this one. Probably more likely then not, just to keep tabs on me and helping me out without letting on that she was.
Damn, this sitting in silence is maddening. I wonder if it's as frustrating for her as it is to me? Probably not. She's most likely got herself used to it spending all that time in the Library at Hogworts. Still, it's starting to get to me. If something doesn't happen soon then I'll be in a right state. What does the Bleeding Bloody Hell does 'Gebrytan-o-inbend-gaderung' mean, and why did that dimwit of a priest suddenly go white as a ghost?' I don't know exactly what you shouted out 'Mione, but I think you got your comeuppance in spades when you said it given how quickly we three were herded in here away from all the hysteria that that was happening outside. You and that little-self-satisfied smile of yours, the one that always got plastered over your lips whenever you got the better of Malfoy. Merlin, she's a right sexy witch when she's got her fury working for her. And looking at her across the table, I can easily say she has never looked as sexy to me as she does now.
Mordred's Ghost, do I need help or what?!
I'm sitting here with Magdalena right beside me, confused and scared and all I want to do is jump over this table, tackle that incredibly bossy and know-it-all witch over there to the ground and then ravish her to an inch … no, MILLIMETER of her life. Surely there is no Hell worth me fearing, because I'm experiencing something far worse right now!
To his left a door opened slowly and haphazardly, the 60-year old priest entered the quiet room carrying an ancient and thick book in his left arm, his right hand wielding a wand that was levitating a large silver tray with a tea-set and biscuits upon it. "I am so terribly sorry my dear children for the delay. I had hoped to have been absent for only a few moment's but once I got out side of this room I became surrounded by Reporter's and some very upset member's of the intended bride's family."
Ron wasn't sure if he heard right and he knew Magdalena's English wasn't so astute to have picked up the word and its implication. Taking his fiancée's hand in his the red-head looked menacingly to the man of religion who had only an hour before been standing opposite from him at a Marriage alter. "What do you mean by 'intended'? There's nothing intended about this. We're going to get married, whether it's today or tomorrow, it's going to happen."
Placing the thick book down gently upon the table, the Wizard-Priest looked upon the male red-head with compassionate eyes. "I understand your disappointment and your anxiousness, Mr. Weasley. And yes you can seek out another to marry you this very moment, but this marriage will not be recognized within our select community. There is a process involved that extends beyond my own authority to remedy."
"Remedy? Because she shout's out five flippin' words?" Ron then turned his glare to the female sitting opposite, but instead of her looking unnerved, Hermione, appeared to be suppressing another of her 'little-self-satisfied-smiles'.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid so. And those words, though to the best of my knowledge have not been uttered in close to 300-years, play a significant role in the ceremony itself. To be honest I am very much staggered Ms Granger was able to discover the phrase at all. I myself had only heard it once during my education and training, so I was as stunned as everyone else when it was announced out loud."
Ron returned his attention back to the priest, the venom in his tone becoming less angry as he began to appreciate the unwanted position that the aged Holy man was in. "Yeah, well she's a right scary one, she is. And when it comes to research I have learned that she is one you don't doubt or second guess. So tell me, what does all this rubbish mean to me and Magdalena anyway?"
With the sound thud the book opened up to a third of its depth. "I suppose it all dates back and originates during a time, several hundred years ago, when the Pure-Blood Community, of which were then a majority but now a minority, became concerned to the progression and contamination of their assorted family line. You are, as I understand it Mister Weasley, of Pure-Blood decent? Yes, I was afraid of that. Back then marriage arrangements were more business then personal choices for the Bride and Groom. And any bonding outside of the purity of succession of a family was one that required extraordinary means to be approved upon. Ms Cosma, is not a Pure-Blood is she? Nor does any recent generations as far back of 150-years possess any trace of Pure Blood Heritage, true?"
"Her Great-Grand-Mother-has a bit of the 'Gift', it's nothing staggering. But it's there. She's the Matriarch of Magdalena's family and I'm guessing she not all that pleased that her favorite great-grand-daughter is being treated this way."
"Yes, I met her outside. A very … vocal woman given her advanced years."
"That's her, and vocal is a very kind and diplomatic way of putting it. One hundred and four years and still going strong. Strong and loud. I suppose that she's one of those unique cases where Heaven doesn't want her and Hell's afraid of her."
"Yes, quite. But despite her obstinacy and disagreeable manner the marriage law remains that - The marriage law. And Ms Granger has announced in front of hundred's of witnesses to a breach in which the institution and ceremony is based upon. There appears to be no Agreement or Contract with any beneficial parties or fair exchanges of goods towards the establishment this association. I realize that it is an obscure challenge, but it is one with significant weigh and history behind it. If Ms Granger had remained silent during the proceedings then I would have continued without any hesitation. But because she raised issue on the foundations of your union, well, that forced me to look upon the finer details myself. And my discoveries did not support a counter-challenge by yourself or Ms Cosma. I cannot find any evidence of bargaining or negotiation by either party."
"So that's it then? Because Hermione has a beef with me she's able to destroy the hopes of an innocent party?"
"No Mr. Weasley, I'm not saying that at all. I said that there are procedures under these extraordinary circumstances. The worthiness of the union between yourself and Ms Cosma must be judged on it's independence and merits. I cannot take any role in these proceedings for as it presently stands I must side, as upsetting as it is for you to know this, upon the fact of Law. I wish I could rescind this Mr. Weasley, Ms Cosma, but that doesn't fall within my scope."
"THEN WHOSE FUCKEN SCOPE DOES IT FUCKEN FALL INTO THEN?!"
"Mine."
The word caught me off guard just as the identity of the person who said it. I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins and I knew if I turned to face to person spoke it I would see that blasted 'self-satisfied-smile' on her face, only this time it would not be a small one.
"Ms Granger is correct, Mr. Weasley. As she is the one who voiced her concerns, then it is her who needs to be convinced towards the worth of your continued togetherness."
Bugger.
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