Chapter Seven: Take a bow, those are things you can't take back

"You're telling me that you won't be in on Monday," the stern voice of Robards echoed through the Floo. Ron barely flinched under his gaze. His boss was back in sodding London, for Merlin's sake. He'd been hounded by the press, his well-meaning family and his own imagination for three days now but it still wasn't long enough away from everything.

"I'm taking my personal leave," Ron reiterated, staring Robards down through the green flames. "I haven't taken a sodding day off since I started. It's my leave and I'm taking it."

Robards' silence spoke volumes. Ron was sure that he didn't want another scene between him and Harry at the Ministry. Aurors hated publicity as it was and having the Chosen One as a star member of the team brought loads of it. Ron grudgingly admitted that he drew enough unwanted attention to his department all on his own, too.

"Have you spoken to Potter?" Robards asked after a pause. Was his boss completely mental?

"No, I haven't," Ron stated impatiently. "And I reckon I probably won't. Ever again."

Robards looked uncomfortable and he wasn't even the one who had found out about his traitorous, shagging, bollocks of a mate. "Your leave is approved," Robards grunted down the Floo. "Get your shit together, Weasley."

Ron barely had time to comprehend his boss's words before the Floo promptly cut out. And Hermione thought he had the emotional range of a teaspoon- Ron was surprised he managed to have a decent conversation for as long as he did.

That was at least one mental conversation over- with another two more to come. Charlie had offered to take care of at least one of them, but Ron wasn't a kid anymore. He'd fought enough battles and even killed a few wizards in his short time as a fugitive and an Auror.

So, instead of sending Mercury for another round trip, he was going to find his courage and screw his bollocks to the sticking place. "Sure you don't want me to give her a call? Either, I mean?" Charlie called out from the kitchen, where he was making them an early breakfast. The time difference meant that it was half five in the morning in Romania and a reasonable hour back in London. When Charlie had asked Ron to stay on to help him out, he jumped at the chance to stay. He had thought about going back to the Burrow but he wasn't up to it.

He wasn't made out of bloody stone and staying away and clearing his head didn't make him a sodding coward. He knew his family meant well but they were too close to everything. As far as he knew, Ginny hadn't chucked Harry so even if he never wanted to lay eyes on the effing prat again, he would still be there at the bloody table and at Christmastime. He wasn't a complete idiot- he knew that, at least.

But in the end, he had decided to stay so now he had to make two more mental Floo calls. Charlie looked at him, pity in his eyes. "Ron?"

"I'll do it," he grunted. Charlie shrugged and set his wand to beat the eggs. Ron took a deep breath, stuck his head into the Floo and called out, "The Burrow."

The first thing he heard was a shriek and then the face of his mum appeared. It was too early for this shit. "Err, hi Mum," he started.

"Oh my dear boy," Molly moaned. "Are you alright? Is Charlie taking care of you? CHARLIE?"

It was definitely too early for this shit. "'lo Mum," Charlie called out.

"Mum, I'm fine," Ron interjected. "Really."

Molly visibly relaxed but Ron knew her better than most. "Really," he added.

"So when are you coming home? I fixed your room for you," she added brightly. "George has been popping round more and Ginny has been Owling."

Ron pretended to be interested but there was a photograph behind his mother that was holding his attention instead. His dad had snapped a quick picture on the platform when they had collected Ginny and Hermione after their repeated Seventh Year. In the picture, Hermione had just launched into his arms and he was spinning her around.

It was a beautiful picture.

"Ron? Are you even listening to me?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah..." Ron ran his fingers through his hair, still damp from his quick bath with lukewarm water. "Err, Mum, Charlie's asked me to stay on for a little bit so I'm gonna be helping him here. In Romania. For a while."

There was uncharacteristic silence as Ron tore his eyes away from his dancing girlfriend. Molly Weasley never looked mildly put out or even angry- she as either miserable, happy as a Pygmy, or downright murderous.

However, right now, she was just staring at him. It was an unnerving feeling, not being able to predict his mum's reaction. Much to his relief and amazement, Molly Weasley proceeded to nod, a sense of understanding passing over her tired and comforting features.

"Have you discussed this with work? I'm sure George could pop in and..."

"All taken care of, Mum," Ron assured her. "I'll be back as soon as Charlie reckons everything's done." Everything was going better than Ron had expected. He prayed to Merlin that the next Floo call he was going to make would go so calmly.

"I suppose you ought to go and...Owl Hermione?" Molly suggested calmly. For every moment of success he was having in coming to grips with what he now dubbed The Betrayal, another moment of despair hit him equally.

"I'm going to Floo her," Ron replied, trying to keep his voice from betraying him. He needed to be calm. "Now, actually. Before I eat."

Molly took a deep breath and Ron knew she was working very hard to keep her gob shut. In the end, her self-control won. "Tell Charlie we said hello. Owl when you get home."

"Yeah, I will. Bye Mum."

He gave a quick wave and the Floo connection ended. "Well, that wasn't as painful as you thought."

He may have escaped a solid ear-bashing from his mother, but out of all the Floo calls he'd be making today, the next one would be the worst. He hadn't heard from or contacted Hermione since he had received her Owl days ago. The hard labour Charlie had him doing had done its job and taken his mind off the disaster he had left behind. Well, mostly, anyway.

Despite everything, Hermione never strayed far from his mind. Many things crossed his mind over the past few days. He went from bleeding mad to a sodding mess in the space of about three minutes just thinking about the whole thing. His own brain taunted him constantly with scary visuals and stupid questions- did she ever love Harry? Was he just a pity fuck because of his brother that night? Why did she lie to him?

His own responses to these questions were equally so stupid that they nearly made sense again- a part of him, the smallest part, did understand why they had lied. It made him sick, but a part of him, the part he was trying to sort out under the Romanian sun, reminded him that he might've just killed Harry when the Horcrux taunted him.

It sickened him to no end but the thought wouldn't leave him. That image of Harry and Hermione had made him mental. If he had had even an inkling that probably- Merlin's beard, was it days? Hours?- earlier his Hermione had been wrapped in Harry's arms, he might've done it.

He might've done it.

Which is why he was here and away from work. He needed to be here and not around her. He was still bloody mad at the whole situation and there was more to it than his stupid thoughts. Despite the fact that she had broken his heart, there wasn't a way out. He loved her. Ron fucking loved Hermione and even when she had lied to him and slept with Harry, he still fucking loved her.

It hurt and he had tried to punish his body and let his anger work itself out, because he was the bloody victim for once, but it didn't change a sodding thing. He loved Hermione more than anything in the world. He loved her bushy hair and her attitude and the way she would crumple into his arms after a shitty day at the Ministry.

So how the hell was he going to reconcile his need for space with this? He knew he loved her, sure, but that didn't mean he was over it. He was far from it. She had lied and more than that, she had slept with Harry!

The sound of Charlie announcing breakfast was ready threw Ron back into his position, sitting in front of the Floo with a handful of powder. "Ron?"

He turned to Charlie, his hand still full of loose powder. He was gripping it tight and it formed a little mountain in his fist. "D'you mind if I take this one alone? It won't take long...I just..."

Charlie nodded in understanding. "I get it. Privacy. Your plate's there. I'll be outside."

There was no ribbing, just brotherly understanding, which is exactly why Ron needed to be here. A small part of him hoped Hermione understood what he needed, although her betrayal meant that she would have to find a way to be okay with it.

That was the price of being the bad guy, after all.

Ron looked down at his clenched hand. All that stood between he and Hermione was a handful of Floo powder and probably thousands of miles. It would be easy to just put the powder back and go outside with Charlie. It was his new routine- one that didn't include ripping out his own heart from his chest.

But, as he knew, he didn't have it in him. He couldn't just leave her there, not knowing when or even if, he was going back. Bloody hell, he didn't even know if he would be going back to her; to them.

Whatever it was, he had to tell her. Miles to go before he'd sleep. So with a deep breath, he unclenched his hand and tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace. He stuck his head in and called for Hermione.

He wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not, but within moments, the face of the woman he loved appeared. It took a moment for him to adjust to the sight. Even through the Floo, he was affected by her presence and his heart clenched at the sight of her.

She looked horrible. Sod it, she looked even worse. Ron's stomach lurched in response to what he was seeing but even through her unbrushed hair and tear-stained face, he could still see the same girl who had sat beside him and corrected all his spelling mistakes in second year.

Her eyes went wide and Ron died a little inside. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to focus on looking her in the eyes. "Hullo Hermione."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "Ron," she breathed. "Ron, it's you."

He tore his eyes away from her because his insides were turning and his brain was rebelling. He needed this. He needed to be away to find out if he could forgive her.

"Are you alright? You look tired. Is Charlie treating you well? Well, I'm sure he is. I can't believe it's you, I mean I've been waiting..." she asked in a hurry. "I didn't want to leave the flat, just in case. And I have treats here for Mercury and I'll keep him here if you like. Merlin, Ron, it must be early over there?"

He cleared his throat and tried to speak as if he was just checking in. It was merely a courtesy call, not the hardest fucking hurdle since the shit hit the broomstick days before.

"Yeah," he barely managed to squeeze out. "Charlie's got me up clearing dragon dung and feedin' em in the mornings. S'ok but you're right, I'm bloody tired."

She nodded in understanding. "Well, make sure you have a warm bath before you go to bed. Pepper-Up potion might help too. When you come home, I can give you a massage..."

And there it was. This was the girl who had sent bloody birds after him in Sixth Year- she had never shied away from verbalising or physically showing her frustration. Her voice broke and she hurriedly wiped away tears from her already puffy eyes.

He hated seeing her cry. Fuck, this was harder than he had pictured it, which had been a lot. His good luck had run out on his Floo calls with Robards and his Mum. But then again, Hermione Granger was the source of all his happiness and now all of his pain.

It wasn't fair.

"Ron..."

It was now or never. Sure, he could go home and have it out with her, but it would be a quick fix. He needed the Muggle way of mending bones and going home would just be Episkey.

He didn't say anything. What could he say to her? That he couldn't look at her yet, because he kept seeing her with Harry? That he hadn't decided whether he could ever forgive her? That he was leaving for good?

"Are you coming home?" she dared ask and Ron could tell it took all of her courage, as if she didn't want to know the answer.

Bloody hell, now he felt like tearing up. "Hermione..."

Her voice rose an octave or two, a hint of Hermione hysteria tainting it. "You are coming home, right? We can talk about this. I- I'm not ready for you to say that you're lea-"

"Hermione, stop," Ron interrupted.

"Please don't do this."

What she didn't understand was that he had to. "I'm not leaving you."

She went to open her mouth, but he held up his hand. "Hermione, I'm...fuck. I don't even know," he whispered. "I'm all the way out here, and you're there and it's mental and I miss you."

Her eyes brightened a little as she brushed away more tears in a gesture he had seen many a time before. "But I can't do it. Not yet."

"This is absurd. You need to come home. We'll work it out together, like we always do," Hermione tried to reason. "Not that I'm trying to be bossy, but-"

"Hermione, you're always bossy," Ron interjected. "But for right now, I reckon I need this. Charlie's got enough work here for me for a few weeks and the office approved my leave."

Hermione shook her head. "It's...so far, Ron. And we can't do this over the Floo or through an Owl. I want to talk to you about this, to explain."

This was too much. How the hell was he supposed to account for his feelings and her feelings all at once? He wasn't made of stone but he wanted to shake her. Why didn't she get it?

"Well if you reckon we're ready, go on," Ron snapped, the angry and tired feeling sinking deep into his bones. "Tell me why you fucked Harry and why you lied about it, fifty words or less."

Silence.

"That's not fair, Ron!" Hermione said, her voice and mannerisms becoming more agitated. "You've got to let me explain."

"The hell I do!" Ron snapped. "Hermione, you were the one who did it, not me. I miss you, yeah, but I'm not ready for this. I need to be ready, I need to find a way..."

"To forgive me," Hermione breathed, finishing his sentence. "To reconcile it all."

And there it was. "Hermione, I need to see if I can do this," he said quietly. "I know you think I'm running away. Merlin, that's probably what started this bollocks in the first place. I don't want this, you have to believe me."

It was him who moved closer now, as if they were literally only inches apart, instead of miles of land and sea. "I said I wouldn't leave you. I'm trying to keep that promise."

He held up his hand and all the way in London, in their tiny flat they called home, Hermione held up hers. "We can fix this," she said and Ron couldn't help but hope she was right. "I love you. I'm sorry."

Despite everything, the words tumbled out of Ron's mouth. "I love you too."

He moved his hand away. "I've gotta go. Charlie's waiting for me."

Hermione simply looked at him, her hand slowly moving downwards. "I'll be here," she whispered. "Goodbye Ron."

"Goodbye Hermione."

And with the courage of a Gryffindor, Ron pulled his head out of the fireplace.

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