A/N Surprise! It's been ages, I know, and I'm sorry! Technology hating me and Real Life rearing it's ugly head again left me with a bad case of writers block... I know that's little excuse, but I am seriously sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long. Luckily though, with a lot of kind messages from you lovely readers (Crossy your one-shot will be here in the new year :)) and support from home, I smashed through that writers block and am back! And as a thank you for your patience, I should be uploading a chapter a day on this story, finishing (with luck) on New Years Eve!
Thank you all so much once again for the support, it's been really nice knowing that you've stuck around, and I really hope that you're not disappointed now that we're back! And, as always, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I may have been gone for months, but I didn't transfigure, so all recognisable things belong to JKR.
Chapter 14
Hermione almost felt as if she could feel his fist against her nose as she strode through the double doors to the Auror offices, feigning a confidence in her footsteps that she certainly didn't feel in her heart, and strolling at a rather quicker pace than usual. In fact, if anyone could have seen her at that point, they might have even said that she was jogging. But, to her relief, when she waved her hand in front of her face, her disillionment charm was still very much in place, and all she could see were the multiple cubicles in front of her. She rubbed her newly-healed ribs absently, grimacing as she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart whilst simultaneously berating herself for feeling the need to hide in her own workplace. Her charm stuttered as anger washed through her- what in Merlin's name was going on with her magic at the moment?- and she was half-certain that a few trainees saw her, and could've sworn on Dobby's name that the few office owls used for outside contact were staring at her. As quickly as she could, she calmed herself, and deliberately slowed her footsteps and breathed deeply, keeping an image of Bill in her head, and imagining that, even now, he was kneading the knots from her shoulders as she lay against his chest.
She kept the thought of him at the forefront of her mind and almost managed a smile, before her eyes were drawn to where Neville used to work, to look at a young woman who was now sat in his old seat, an expression of absolute consternation on her face. Clearly the new auror was channelling her friend's spirit, as even while Hermione watched on, the stranger, thoroughly enveloped in the large pile of parchment before her and with a rather sweet frown of concentration between her brows, promptly knocked over her coffee with her elbow, spilling the liquid over her desk and work. The poor woman gave a shriek of horror before grabbing her papers and waving them desperately, moaning as the ink ran, ruining whatever she was working on. Hermione, taking pity on the poor girl, waved her wand and cast a silent spell, managing a small smile when the woman gasped, then whooped in joy when her parchment was suddenly cleaned and good as new.
She, telling her feet to keep calm and carry on, left the area of the new employee's cubicle, striding past Dean Thomas' alcove, where he was involved in an intense discussion with his old room-mate Seamus (who, suitably, now worked in the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad), regarding the pros and cons of their everlasting debate. One that, even after thirty years, never seemed to tire them; Quidditch versus football. Personally, if she had to choose a sport over her books, Hermione had always preferred rugby. However, giving an invisible yet amused glance towards the pair, she continued, trying to force her humour to remain with her.
Once more, the smile was wiped from her face as if stinksap had been poured over her. Her office was located, unfortunately, past the head Aurors offices. Merlin's beard, in fact, Merlin's saggy left... What if Ron was sat at his desk, or even in her office, waiting for her? What would she do? Of course, she would love more than anything to slap him in his stupid face, but in reality...
I am Hermione Granger I am Hermione Granger I am not afraid not afraid I am Hermione Granger! She strolled forwards, shoulders braced and head held high, past Harry's old office, left abandoned in his honour, excepting various pictures of him, other lost friends and family, and even a small tribute to Dobby, consisting of a small house-elf figure made entirely out of socks. She glanced in the new Head of Department's office, run, much to Ron's chagrin, not by him but by an older, more experienced Auror, before finally halting in the doorway to the deputy head's room. Her husband's nameplate stared back at her, but all she seemed able to focus on was the mess in front of her.
It seemed she needn't have worried about Ron being at work, because by the look of his desk, he hadn't been in for at least a week. Reports and forms teetered in high stacks four deep on his desk, with old coffee cups littered between, many of them clearly days old and untended. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she accidentally sniffed the air, and a foul mixture of stale alcohol and- wait... Was that...? She tentatively followed the stench before gagging as she lifted a sheet of parchment to find an old, rotting sandwich crawling with maggots beneath. And next to it was a lump that should definitely not be moving. Backing away swiftly she turned her back, physically and mentally, on her husband's room, and strode through to her office, feeling as though she hadn't been there for decades.
A few years ago, Ron had had an issue with her new co-worker Stuart, and he had 'mysteriously' quit after just a few years in the department. At the time, she hadn't had the energy to question it, but now, she sighed sadly; disorganised and at times plain messy, Stuart had still been a decent friend and a good worker. Following his departure, she and her boss and old friend Jo had interviewed what seemed like hundreds of candidates, both from within the ministry and out, but simply weeding through the people who wanted to work in the same office as the legendary Hermione Granger had proven to be a nearly month-long challenge. They had eventually settled on two people, rather than the standard one; a middle-aged man who had spent his whole life in Magical Law Enforcement and had had quite enough of blindly following orders, and a young Hogwarts alumni who had graduated a year before they hired her with near perfect NEWTs and a passion to help the world. The two bounced well off each other; she had the sometimes delusional passion that Hermione used to possess for things like S.P.E.W which he toned down with his inbuilt cynicism and she, in turn, forcibly inspired him when he became too hopeless.
She smiled at their bickering as she walked past their office, her old one, to the one she now shared with Jo. Following the Department becoming bigger and her old boss's retirement, she officially became Deputy Head, and she couldn't deny that she enjoyed sharing an office with her friend again, especially on days like this where she needed the quiet understanding that could only be garnered from working together for years. That being said, she had been absent for a fair few days with no word, and so she could hardly blame Jo for squealing in delight when she walked through the door.
"Hermione! It's so good to see you again!" She gushed, grinning and hugging her swiftly before her expression became concerned. "How are you feeling?"
She felt a genuine smile pull at her lips. "Much better now, thanks. I'm not one hundred percent okay, but I will be soon."
If Jo heard the underlying depth beneath her words, she didn't comment on it, and merely smiled softly. "I'm glad."
She smiled back, before making her voice brusque. "So, what have I missed, what needs doing and where do you want me to start?"
Jo laughed. "Some things never change, Mrs Workaholic! And actually, you've chosen a good day to come back, I was going to call a meeting this morning. We've had a message from..." She trailed off uncomfortably. "Well from another department." Hermione shrugged and indicated for her to continue, smiling as the other two came in following Jo's loud, "You two! Get in here!"
"Hermione!" The man called in some surprise. "I hope your being here means you're better?"
"Much better, thank you Blaise." She smiled back at her old Slytherin classmate. He had been openly shocked when she had chosen him for the job, as had Jo, but as she had said, school rivalries were rarely worth holding onto, and nor were the prejudices that had pitted one house against another for millennia. After all, her own daughter had been sorted into Slytherin and, though she had never told anyone, the Sorting Hat had considered her for the house of snakes, and had she not been a muggle-born in the time where they were most hated, she may have ended up there. Besides, she remembered noticing Blaise's intelligence, even in a time when she had stubbornly not wanted to. Their first few months working together had, predictably, been awkward, with little more than cool acknowledgements of 'Granger' and 'Zabini' constituting their conversations outside of work topics. However, after a few jokingly ironic quips, many intellectually stimulating debates, and Hermione's open acceptance of having none other than Draco Malfoy weigh in on some decisions regarding taxing the rich, they had become somewhat akin to friends. Neither would ever admit it of course, but the slight crease of concern between his brows right now was enough to belie his cool demeanour.
In contrast, his co-worker, Jenny, was the opposite to his carefully placed Slytherin persona. A Hufflepuff in every sense of the stereotype (excluding the rather rude concept that they were unintelligent) she was bubbly, bright and willing to be a friend to most anyone. Both she and Jo had found the young woman a little alarming at first, but when, during her interview, she had begun a half-hour long tirade regarding the lack of communication between the British Ministry and the others across the world, pulling facts and figures from seemingly nowhere (though both had checked them after and all were correct), they knew they had found someone worth keeping. Combined with Blaise's cold (sometimes too cold) logic, they made an exceptional team. That didn't mean, however, that they always got along, as shown now, when Jenny ran up to hug Hermione, making Blaise roll his eyes disapprovingly.
"You're back!" Jenny cried. "We've all been so worried! Even Mr So-far-up-his-arse-he-"
"Thanks, Jen." Hermione cut off, seeing the argument waiting to happen as the young woman narrowed her eyes at Blaise. "I'm much better now."
"I'm glad. Now you can solve our argument!" Once more her attention was on Blaise, who scowled.
"It's not an argument, it's a discussion." He told her smoothly.
"A debate then!" She frowned back.
Hermione and Jo shared an eye-roll; they had an on-going bet on how long it would take the two of them to start dating; they already argued like a married couple and few people could go on argue/discuss/debating with such passion without having a different kind of passion evolving, so it seemed to be only a matter of time. Everyone, apart from them of course, thought that they would be a good couple; not sweet, not outwardly romantic, and certainly not average, but good all the same. Hermione secretly thought they would be nothing short of great. Thinking of the passion she and Bill shared and then looking at the secret tenderness hiding in Jenny and Blaise's eyes made her have to stifle a grin.
"I'm not going to solve any argument, discussion or debate between the two of you." She said swiftly, trying desperately to not smile. "I'm sure you two can work it out."
Jenny frowned before shrugging in acceptance, but she noticed Blaise lean down and whisper, "It's still a discussion."
Jo, wisely, spoke up before Jen could reply, saying, "If we could get back to work now?" Both looked suitably abashed, but Hermione, leaning against her desk, could see the almost Dumbledore-esque twinkle of amusement in her friend's eyes. It was quickly dampened, however, as she became business-like. "We've had a message from Avalon; they need one of us down there to do some work regarding... Well, obviously I don't know yet." All eyebrows rose; the mythical, or not so mythical, island of Avalon had not been in contact for centuries. "Obviously," Jo continued, looking rather ill, "I'll do it, I wouldn't expect any of you to, so Hermione will be in charge while I'm gone."
"I'll do it." Hermione said with a shrug when she had finished.
Jo smiled at her. "Thank you. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but there are a few things on my desk-"
"No, you misunderstand." She interrupted. The others may be uncertain about the mystical isle, but the isolation was exactly what she wanted. "I'll go to Avalon and do whatever needs to be done there. I don't mind, really."
Every gaze turned to her as she smiled nonchalantly. "Thanks for the offer, 'Mione," Jo began slowly, "but I'm Head of Department, it's my responsibility."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Your job is to make sure this Department is running smoothly."
"And you can do that just as well as I can." She countered quickly.
"No I can't. I've been gone for a few days, so I have no idea what you're working on at the moment."
She wasn't lying and they all knew it; though some of the projects that came through their department could take weeks, even months, to pick through, the average length of time before they were either approved, denied or sent to another department was between three days to a week. All, however, seemed unconvinced by her logic, and she sighed. "Look, I'm much better off starting a new project on my own, rather than trying to learn what's going on with however many things you have going on."
"But it's Avalon! No-one even knows what happens there!" Jenny stated bluntly, as though that discounted everything she had said.
She merely shrugged. "I broke into the Department of Mysteries in my fifth year and survived, I'm not afraid."
"Stupid Gryffindor." Blaise muttered, and for once the others didn't disagree.
Avalon had, of course, many mysteries surrounding it, as the witches and wizards who dwelled there rarely contacted the outer world, but she was far less afraid of the unknown than she was of her husband. Also, being Muggle-born, she had grown up with fantastic myths and legends about the great King Arthur, and there was a selfish thrill running through her to see the place. She could ask the people of the island how many of the stories were true! She could ask if the Lady of the Lake was a mermaid. She could ask if Merlin actually helped the legendary man fight off the Romans. More than anything though, she could leave, to a place she couldn't be found, for at least a fortnight.
"It makes more sense for me to go." She said directly to Jo.
She regarded her for a few moments before sighing. "It's my responsibility." But the resigned look on her face let Hermione knew she had won.
"I'll be careful." She said in a quieter voice, reassuring the three who were looking at her in concern. "I know the dangers of being too curious, so I'll do what I'm told then come back."
"You'd better." Jo replied fiercely, as Jenny nodded and Blaise glared at her.
"I will."
"Guess I better get the papers ready then." She mumbled miserably, though Hermione could sense the guilty relief in the room that she would be the one to go.
"I'll get us a coffee." She said, resting her hand on Jo's shoulder as she slumped at her desk and the others left, sighing. "And thank you."
The older woman frowned at her. "Thank me?! For all I know, I might very well be sending you to your death! Why the heck are you-" Their eyes locked and, whatever Jo saw there, she cut herself off and tilted her head in confusion. "Why do you want to go there?" She asked softly.
Hermione blinked sadly. "Because there's danger here looking for me. At least down there, it isn't actively targeting me."
"'Mione..." She sighed and grasped her hand. "You know that if I can help, in any way, I will."
"I know." She squeezed her hand back. "I'll sign those papers after I've got coffee. Or would you prefer tea?"
Jo nodded in resigned acceptance. "Coffee, please." Hermione had almost made it through the door before her boss called after her, "How are things with Ron? His Department have been complaining that he's not been in for a while, and when he has been, he hasn't been himself. He's been..." She waited until Hermione had turned to face her again before finishing her sentence. "'Unstable'. That's the word they used."
She grimaced. "Well if the Auror department thinks that, that's their responsibility."
"And Ron?"
"He's his own person, not my responsibility."
Jo studied her in a way that made her feel like a schoolchild being observed by Dumbledore or Profes- Minerva- again. After a few moments silence, she nodded slowly. "I'd best get those papers." Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to leave once more, but as she exited the room, heard Jo's quiet voice saying, "If you ever need to talk, or anything, I'm here for you."
Hearing Ron hadn't been working well had not been a surprise to her, and she may have had a chance to fall back into the black thoughts of fear and hopelessness that thoughts of her husband now sent her to, had it not been for Blaise swiftly cutting off her path to the coffee machine. Sighing, she placed her hands on her hips and looked at him sharply, using her best bossy voice. "Shouldn't you be working?"
He gave a smooth, clever smile. "I was just going to get a latte for Jen."
She smiled slyly. "How kind of you... I'm sure she appreciates how much you care for her."
Scowling, he fell into step beside her. "Shut up."
"I meant her hydration levels, of course!" She said quickly, shooting a grin in his direction, but unfortunately for her, her teasing didn't work.
"Do you have a death wish?" He asked bluntly.
"Not that I'm aware of." Her reply was smooth; she had expected this from the man who would never admit that he cared for anyone, yet had one of the kindest hearts she'd ever encountered. He had even helped push S.P.E.W forward, and argued with old friend Malfoy about taxing the poor as much as the rich.
"You seem to have one." He said with a slight, irritated bite to his voice.
She laughed, making his scowl darken. "You are definitely not the first person to tell me that!"
"Maybe you should listen for once."
"Sometimes what people view to be death wishes are actually-"
"This is different to the War." He stated darkly, and an uneasy silence fell between them. Though Blaise hadn't officially taken any side, they both knew what side he would've been forced into, had things turned out differently. He had once, in absolute confidence, whispered to her that he was glad her side had won, and regretted the loss they'd suffered, but that was the only reference either had made to their troubled past.
They reached the coffee maker and, after he indicated for her to go first, she started the Muggle machine; though the others had been incredulous when she had first brought the thing into work, they had quickly fallen in love with it, even ex-Muggle-hating Blaise, who could now not function without his morning capp. It had taken a fair amount of work to set up the spells to imitate the electrical current, but as Hermione smelt the espresso pouring out, she knew it was worth it.
"Why did you offer to go to Avalon?" Blaise asked suddenly.
She shrugged, not looking at him. "It makes more sense for me to go, rather than Jo."
Blaise, however, was not stupid. "You offered almost immediately. You've been planning something like this."
Once more, she raised her shoulders in a 'whatever' fashion. "It makes more sense, and I'm not afraid. In fact, I'm really rather curious about it."
He leant against the wall, gazing at her with dark eyes. "Nobody knows anything about that place.."
"I know."
"The people who have come back, have come back with their memories wiped. But there are people who haven't come back at all."
"I know, but I will come back."
She was done making her and Jo's coffee so stepped aside and began to walk away, but once more, Blaise cut her off. "Why do you want to go there?"
She plastered a bemused smile on her face, knowing that he'd most likely be able to see through it but trying anyway. "Who said I wanted to? It's simply logical for me to."
Leaving the machine chugging away, he scowled. "Don't give me that bullshit. It's clear you wanted to." She smiled at him and continued to walk her away, but froze when, for the second time that day, she was asked, "How's Ron?"
Goddamn it, I try to not bloody think of him but everyone wants to bloody know. "I'm not his keeper, ask him yourself." She called without turning, in a cold voice she hadn't used towards him since their Hogwarts years.
"I didn't mean how his health is. I meant how is he... Treating you?"
Turning, her face was ice but her eyes fire, and he flinched slightly. "And since when is my marital life any of your business?"
She knew, inwardly, that she wasn't angry at him, despite the bite in her voice, and he seemed to know too. Though most would shy away from Hermione Granger when she got 'that' look in her eyes, he merely moved forward and, in a move that would've shocked anyone, hugged her tightly. When he had pulled back they both shuffled awkwardly, before she murmured that she should take Jo her coffee and he agreed that he should finish up his and Jenny's drinks. As she walked away though, she could've sworn she heard him say, "I've met the other Weasleys, they all seem okay. Ron though... I've never liked him." She put it down to her imagination, but just as she was about to re-enter her and Jo's office, he called, "I'd love to have you round, if you ever need a place to... You know... Get away." She turned to face him with a slight frown; he simply looked embarrassed. "I don't mean as in, you know, something dodgy... It's just I have a spare room so... You know."
Giving him a radiant smile, she briefly thought; here is a Slytherin, perhaps an ex-Death Eater in the making, offering me a room. "Thanks." She called back. "But I have a place. I'll leave the dodginess to you."
Both laughed loudly, and though his was swiftly cut off, hers simply increased as Jenny stuck her head out of their office door and asked, "What dodginess, Blaise?"
Leaving them to deal with the inevitable argument/discussion/debate, she went back to her own room and handed Jo her coffee, still chuckling. "What's funny?" She asked lightly.
"Just Mr and Mrs Zabini." She replied lightly.
Jo groaned. "Am I going to have to hear them argue all day again?"
"I doubt it. Blaise and I were talking about 'dodgy' things, so he'll probably just spend the rest of the day convincing her he's not doing anything with anyone."
She blinked a few times, evidently debating whether to ask Hermione about why she and Blaise were talking about dodgy activities in the first place, before shrugging. "My bet's still on them getting together at Christmas this year."
Hermione grinned. "No way, Blaise's birthday is in September; I reckon Jenny will have had enough of dancing around by then."
Jo smirked. "Ten galleons still?"
"Of course!"
Silence enveloped the pair for a few moments, as Jo scribbled away and Hermione sipped her coffee contemplatively; it seemed odd to her that she could have these moments of frivolity, as if she'd forgotten that there was a world outside of the hell-hole that was her marriage. But there life was, like a breath of fresh air or the first inhalation after being underwater.
"So," Jo suddenly said, making Hermione jump, "if you're still sure about going, I mean I-"
"I'm sure."
"Well, it'll be at least a week until you can go." Hermione stifled a sigh, but Jo's quick eyes picked it up. "I thought you would be relieved."
"You know me," She replied with false cheer, "I just like to get on with things!" Before her boss could reply, a memo flew in, the Minister's seal on it, and landed in front of her gracefully. "Excuse me a moment." She speed-read the missive, her frown deepening as she did so; why on Earth had they sent her this? It was a simple enough note, expressing gratitude that she had returned to work, and reminding her that under Article 37 of the Ministry Employee's Agreement, she had been paid the mandatory sick-pay for her days off. But she already knew all this, and she was fairly sure that Kingsley didn't send personal messages to each member of staff after they'd been ill. However, when she finally reached the end of the long list of awards following Shacklebolt's name, the true meaning of the memo became clear. Scrawled at the bottom in a neat, precise hand, were the words;
We need to talk. -P
She sighed. Of course it was Percy, who else could it be? Scrunching her face up slightly, she pushed the note to the side and leant her head against her hand, wondering what she could possibly tell him. Oh, hi Percy! Yeah, your younger brother is an abusive, alcoholic twat, and, ha, by the way, I'm hopelessly in love with and shagging your older brother! Buh-bye now! Somehow she didn't think that would go down too well.
Jo noticed her unhappiness and made her jump when she softly asked, "Everything okay, 'Mione?"
She blinked a few times- she had quite forgotten that Jo was there- before smiling. "Yeah, everything's fine. So, what needs doing before I head off to Avalon?"
"Well, you'll need to check in with all the other Departments to get up to date on what we think might be on the Island, you'll have to go for a medical check at St. Mungo's, and, of course, you'll have to be reviewed by the Aurors."
She stomach fell to the floor with a crash. "The Aurors?" She repeated softly.
"Mmm-hmm." Jo hummed in confirmation, not looking up from where she was scribbling away. "They'll need to make sure you're fighting fit, able to defend yourself if necessary." Hermione felt sick; what if, Merlin forbid, they asked Ron to review her? "I mean I know it's ridiculous," Jo continued, "to have to question you of all people, but you know what it's like with protocol and- Hermione!" She had just looked up and seen the pale, greenish hue of her friend's skin. "Is everything ok?!"
"Yeah." Hermione breathed, barely hearing her. "D'ya know, I think I'll get a head start on some of that research." What she needed right now was a distraction, so she wandered over to Jo's desk and silently picked up the stack of parchment she had resting there. Ignoring the other woman's concerned look, she settled down to read through the facts and figures about Avalon's history and myths, not even hearing when Jo muttered she was going for lunch. It was only when, after about five hours solid reading, she had finished the stack, she moved again, telling Jo quietly that she was going to pick up some more documents from the Department of International Magical Cooperation and heading silently to the lifts.
...
As she rounded the corner out of the Auror offices, a flash of red hair caught her eye, and she instinctively ducked, shrinking away from the possibility that it could be Ron. You're being stupid, she told herself firmly, we're in a crowded place, the Ministry no less, he's not going to try anything. So, squaring her shoulders, she straightened her back and strode out, cursing herself when she nearly sagged in relief at the horn-rimmed glasses. "Percy," She murmured as he caught her eye and frowned, "I guess I owe you an explanation."
"That would be nice. I suppose you got my message?"
"Yes, I was just… On my way to find you." She lied unconvincingly.
"Oh?" He polished his glasses and scowled. "Really? So you weren't trying to think of a story to tell me about why you asked me to go to your house? Or maybe some fantastic excuse as to why he was so drunk I nearly dragged him to St. Mungo's to get his stomach emptied? Or maybe just, oh I don't know, what exactly the hell is going on?"
She glanced around nervously. "Not here." She indicated to the crowds around them, and nodded her head to a side corridor. "Come on, we can talk there."
Sighing heavily, he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Follow me." He muttered, as he led her to one of the lifts, promptly pressing the door for the Minister's Office.
"Um, are you sure we should, you know…?" She whispered nervously.
He raised an eyebrow imperiously. "There are some advantages to being Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, you know." Raising her eyebrows and thinking with a quiet chuckle that at least some things never changed, they spent the rest of the trip in silence.
When they arrived in the antechamber to the elaborately furnished office, Percy offered her a seat at his desk, which was, predictably, immaculately clean. "Have you had lunch?" He asked briskly, taking her somewhat by surprise.
"Lunch?" She exclaimed.
"My mother would kill me if I didn't ask."
She sniggered slightly. "That's true. And no, I haven't, but I'm okay thank you."
"Nonsense." He snapped. "What do you want, sandwiches? Juice? Crisps?"
"Percy, really, I-"
"If you don't tell me I'll simply order a fillet steak and not let you leave until you've eaten every last bite." He threatened, and she blanched.
"Um, sandwiches would be nice." She replied meekly, and with a nod of approval he waved his wand, sending a silent message off. Less than ten seconds later, a tray of assorted sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice appeared on the table between them.
"Dig in." He offered, after spreading out a makeshift tablecloth. She grabbed what looked like a chicken salad, and bit in gratefully, not realising how hungry she had been. Percy sat opposite and did the same, eyeing her curiously. "Well, at least now my mother won't hex me into next week." He mumbled eventually.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, disturbed by his strange mood.
"No." He stated bluntly. "Something's going on, something bad, and I have no idea what it is, but it's terrifying me."
"Oh." Hermione replied lamely. "Well, I mean-"
"Just tell me the truth, 'Mione, please."
She sighed and leant back, dropping her half-eaten food, appetite gone. "Ron's been… He's having a few problems. With alcohol."
Percy frowned at her. "I'd guessed that much, thanks. What else?"
"He's been drinking more, a lot more. More than ever before."
"There's more to this than just drink." In an unusual act of comfort, he leant across the desk and grabbed her hand lightly. "Tell me, 'Mione. I might be able to help."
At his gentleness, she softened. "I don't think you should be any more involved that you already are. Let's just say that… I'm leaving him, and I have good reason to."
"Is he hurting you? Has he hit you again?" Percy asked bluntly, almost angrily, and when she lowered her eyes and refused to answer, he sighed heavily.
A few moments went by, and Percy studied his sister-in-law intently, various ideas dancing through his quick mind. "Does this have anything to do with Bill?" He blurted suddenly, causing her to snap her head back sharply enough to almost cause whiplash.
"Excuse me?" She blurted, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Well… Bill's been acting strangely too, and I know he's been having issues with Fleur… It just seems a bit too coincidental."
"Sometimes coincidences do just happen, you know."
"What, like all those years ago? Rose's birth?"
She choked on her sip of pumpkin juice, and spluttered awkwardly, before finally managing to croak, "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"
He shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "There just seemed to be a few things that didn't add up. Fleur runs off, Bill's going mad. You come back, Bill's suddenly happy again. Fleur comes back, Ginny goes into premature labour, then you and Ron are suddenly together. And Rose is born, supposedly a month early, but perfectly healthy and with no mention of an early birth from any of the Healers. You know, just a lot of coincidences."
"Yup," Hermione squeaked in return, "that is a lot of them."
"Hermione, were you already pregnant when you and Ron first started dating?" Percy asked bluntly, peering at her over his glasses.
"Ron has raised Rose, he's her dad." She answered, carefully avoiding the question.
It didn't seem to slip past him. "You made Bill happy, all the years ago. I don't think you were just friends." She shrugged. "I think that you started seeing each other, in secret." Silence. "I think Ginny knew, and that's why she went into labour when she saw Fleur again." She stared at the ceiling. "I think you were in love."
"You sound ridiculous."
"I think you still are."
That made her look at him. "I've been married to Ron for years, remember? I loved him, before he… Well, I've loved him for years."
"Maybe," Percy acceded, "but you're not in love with him. I don't think you ever have been."
"You think a lot of things."
Percy gave a small half-smile. "To be honest, I've thought these things for a while; it was the way that you and Bill used to look at each other that gave you away."
She chewed the inside of her mouth. "You do realise I haven't admitted anything, don't you?"
"You don't need to. I may not be the best or brightest when it comes to reading people, but I've known you and Bill both for a long time." As she opened her mouth, he held up a hand. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Just answer me two things; one, how much help does Ron need? Two, are you leaving one of my brothers just so that you can be with another?"
She frowned slightly, considering how best to answer his first question, the second was clearly obvious. "I'm not sure how much help he needs, a lot, probably. Certainly more than I can give him."
"You've tried?"
"I've been trying ever since the funeral, Percy."
The red-head winced in sympathy. "Why didn't you say anything? Ask for our help?"
She shrugged. "I thought he needed the help more than me and, besides, he's your brother."
"And you're our sister!" He declared passionately, surprising her, touching her heart.
Reaching across the table, she clasped one of his hands between hers. "Thank you, Percy. Truly."
He flushed the Weasley scarlet and started muttering in embarrassment. "Well… You know… It's just… You are… You know… Part of the family… Always have been… Very important…" He coughed awkwardly.
Finally taking pity on him, she smiled and changed the subject. "As for your second question, of course I'm not. Bill," She eyed him, "I mean, whatever history he and I may or may not have, doesn't have anything to do with my leaving Ron. I just… I just can't carry on like we are right now."
He nodded in understanding, before leaning back. "Well, I can't say I'm really happy about it, but I guess… As long as you guys are happy and you're, you know, safe."
"Thanks Perce. You won't-"
"I won't tell anyone, I swear."
"Thanks."
Another silence, this one more relaxed, settled between them, as they sipped from their glasses. "What do Rose and Hugo think?" Percy suddenly asked, making Hermione squirm in nervousness.
"I'm going to Hogwarts on Saturday, to speak with Profes- Minerva- and I'm going to take them to lunch, speak with them then. I just… I hope they'll understand." She gnawed her lip, fresh dread filling her.
"I'm sure they will." He said soothingly.
"If they don't… Well, they have to come first, always. I won't do anything that they can't cope with or can't… I mean, I know it's going to hurt, going to upset them, but I'm sure that if they keep their minds open…"
"They're your kids," Percy reassured, "they'll be able to cope."
"I really hope so." Hermione repeated.
They parted ways soon after, Hermione feeling surprisingly lighter after speaking to Percy, though him feeling significantly more burdened. How could he and the others have ignored their sister-in-law's plight for so long? How could they have been so blind? He was fairly sure that Ron had been beating her; when he had asked there had been a look in her eyes, like a frightened rabbit running from a kneazle, and there was something just off about her. But he couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe that Ron could hit her. There was the one incident after the funeral, but like Hermione had said, no-one was acting like themselves after such a horrid occasion. Surely, the irritating, whining, world-saving boy he remembered from so many years ago couldn't deliberately, frequently hurt the woman he had pledged his heart too. He'd been besotted with her since they were teens!
But then Percy remembered the mad look in his eyes as he screamed at his wife, blamed her for Harry and Ginny's death, and struck her. Quickly getting a very bad migraine, he made a very un-Percy-like decision and, penning a quick note claiming illness, went home, to find Audrey and simply hold her. And to tell her he loved her, over and over again. From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to tell Audrey that he loved her.