Chapter Nine:
Partial Return
"Mother, it's just not important for you to know where I live!" cried Ginny for what felt like the ten millionth time. As she spoke with her mother, she bounced her eight-month-old daughter on her hip and gathered their things in preparation for departure. It was time to end this visit before she ended up yelling again. Mrs Weasley just could not accept the fact that Ginny didn't want anyone intruding on the sanctuary she had carved out for herself and her baby.
Ginny had made sure that no memories were allowed to infiltrate and spoil the cozy home she had created for herself and Jamie. Her friends and family only reminded Ginny of the ones she had lost, and the young mother was determined to keep the spirits at bay, at least with in her own home. At first it had been easy enough. No one had pressed her for details for the first two months, but now that she had been living in her home for eight months, it was getting hard to explain why she was keeping everyone away.
"Mom, I'm going to check on Hermione," Ginny said, hoping to divert her mother's attention with concern for the other girl.
Ginny's ploy worked, and Mrs Weasley's brow wrinkled, now with worry, not frustration. "That's a good idea, dear. She really hasn't been herself since the miscarriage."
"Everything has been so hard for her. Actually, everyone's lives have been terrible highs and lows since they disappeared," Ginny sighed, trying to hard to not think of certain memories. This was the reason Ginny kept her family out of her home. They all represented the past and Harry.
"I know, dear. Now run along and check on Hermione now," Mrs Weasley said, kissing first her daughter, then her granddaughter before they left.
When Ginny arrived at Hermione's flat, she called her older friend, hoping that she would be at home. As luck happened to have it, Hermione was asleep in the bedroom that had once belonged to Ginny. Hermione had taken it over about two weeks after the miscarriage. That was also when she had begun to throw herself entirely into her work at the Ministry.
Since she had first started working there, Hermione had received promotions hand over first. In the horribly uncertain times when the disappearance of the 'boy who lived' had first come to light, the Ministry had needed every person they could get to control the magical population. Hermione knew how to do her job well and, particularly since she lost her baby, she was willing to work long hours. It seemed to the Weasley's that Hermione was never around, but she didn't much care.
At least when Hermione was working, she couldn't concentrate on Ron and the many mistakes she had made over the past year. She had just barely reached her twentieth birthday before she had lost a baby, one that wasn't the child of the only man she was likely to ever love fully. Ever since then, Hermione had been battling feelings of conflicting grief and relief, abandonment and disappointment in herself and an all encompassing sense of loneliness.
That horrible, bone-deep feeling only worsened when she was around those who had once been close to her. Ginny was usually the worst, because by all rights, she should be just as alone and miserable as Hermione herself was; yet the younger girl had her baby. She had the baby of the man she loved.
And then Hermione would feel terrible for thinking that way, for being jealous of what Ginny had. She would remind herself that being a single mother could not be easy, and that being a mother at all when you're seventeen would really be hard. Then Hermione would avoid Ginny for a while, partially because she felt bad for wishing that she could be in Ginny's place, and partially so she could forget about her own problems. Ginny only reminded Hermione of the ones she had lost. Gone was Ron, the love of her life, and gone was her other best friend, the one she had cried to when things with Ron were at their worst.
So when Ginny called her from the front hall, Hermione seriously considered pretending that she was a work. Instead she dragged herself from her blankets and pulled a robe over her nightshirt, feeling slightly ashamed that she wasn't dressed by eleven o'clock, even if it was a Saturday. Ginny had obliviously been up and about for a long while. "Hi," was all Hermione could manage, looking at the beautiful little girl who looked so like her father.
"Hi, Hermione, how are you?" asked Ginny, sitting down on the chair opposite Hermione on the couch in the den.
"Not bad," Hermione lied, knowing that she still had a long way to go before she reached 'not bad'.
"That's good," Ginny obviously didn't know what to say to Hermione anymore. Their relationship had become so strained of late. "How's work been?"
"Good," Hermione replied, both relieved and upset that all they ever talked about anymore were safe, neutral topics like work. "How's Jamie doing?"
Ginny ignored the fact that Hermione really needn't ask after the baby who was playing on the floor a few feet from her, and replied "Really well, though since she started to crawl, things have gotten difficult. She gets into everything."
"You must have your work cut out for you, cleaning up after her," Hermione replied, not quite sure if this all counted as a neutral topic as they were dancing around the fact that Ginny was raising her child alone, without Harry and why.
"I have Dobby to help me. It seems as if that elf has been looking after Potters for a long time," Ginny said quietly, looking down at her daughter's dark head.
"Since my second year, your first. That was a long time ago," sighed Hermione, hoping that they would come no closer to mention of the missing few.
For a while longer the two sat, making strained conversation. Each wished for the visit to end, but felt they owed the other to at least keep up the pretence of friendship.
Later, Hermione sat on the couch all by herself this time, and cried. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and never again have to face Ginny or any other Weasley again. Hermione didn't even want to see that stupid Weasley red hair, unless it was on Ron!
Ron! Oh, Ron. How she missed him, wanted him back, couldn't stand to be away from him any longer. And yet, Hermione wasn't sure she would have been able to face him, even if he were to return to her. She had done a terrible thing, betraying him the way she had. She had made a terrible mistake. And because of it, Hermione couldn't face her friends, even though they had once been almost family. Hermione couldn't even look at Harry's child, all because of her stupid mistake.
Suddenly it occurred to Hermione that what she had done was a mistake.
She had known all along that it was one, but only now did it sink in. She had made a mistake. She hadn't knowingly set out to hurt anyone, or betray Ron. She had only done something stupid when she was trying to deal with all the horrible things that had happened. And maybe, if it had only been a mistake, there was a chance at forgiveness.
Hermione didn't quite understand it, but she knew that she needed to be forgiven before she could move on, like she suddenly knew she had to. Maybe if she went to see Mrs Weasley, or Ginny, and asked them to forgive her…
But a voice whispered inside her, sounding a little like Ron, that they had never blamed her, she had only blamed herself.
Which meant that she had to forgive herself, the voice told her, even if that was truly the most difficult thing she had ever had to do.
"I don't feel right about this," Ron Weasley said again, for what seemed like the billionth time to his impatient companion.
"You don't feel right about returning to your girlfriend and family after months and months? You don't feel right about helping to finally destroy that last damn Horcrux? Or do you just not feel right in the head?" asked Nate Deneenan.
"No! I don't feel right leaving Harry to fend for himself against Voldemort," Ron explained, though both he and Nate knew it well.
"I know, but just concentrate on the other stuff. It's not like we can help the fact that Harry took off without us in the dark of the night. Besides, like he said in his note, the Order needs to know that he's going after Voldemort, and where to pick up the death eaters," Nate said "Now, let's get our stuff and go."
The two boys stepped into green flames and came tumbling out the fireplace at the Headquarter of the order of the Phoenix. Ron stood, brushing soot from his hair, and looked around. His eye caught on the red haired woman sitting at the kitchen table.
"Hi, mom, I'm back."
