Author's Note: If you are still reading this, thank you so much for sticking with me! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in two weeks! School has been crazy, I've had practically no extra time. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!
~*~
Chapter Twenty-Six
All in all, it was not how Hermione envisioned spending their first night at the new flat. Stretching her back and readjusting her legs, she tried to ignore the biting feel of the cold porcelain tub on the back of her neck. And as hard as she tried, she just couldn't get the sound of Ron vomiting out of her head. She cringed as he got sick again, then pointed his wand at the toilet and Vanished the contents.
They had moved into the flat that morning; it had gone much smoother than Hermione predicted. She enjoyed packing without magic because she liked the methodical, organizational nature of it. Unpacking wasn't the same, and they had decided to do the rest by magic, though they had to make sure no neighbors had come in to say hello and witnessed belongings flying out of boxes on their own accord. They had finished ten minutes after arriving, and spent the rest of the day basking in the freedom and happiness of finally having a place of their own. At around dinnertime, however, Ron realized he had an exam the next morning and dashed off to the bathroom, which he had not left for the last three hours. At first Hermione had thought the pale blue of the walls were pretty, now she was getting sick of them. She hadn't left Ron's side, deftly refusing his dismissals to go across the hall and join Ginny and Harry in what was sure to be a more celebratory evening. She had refused every time; saying she'd much rather be with him, even in his current state. She had a lot of practice with Ron's nerves; though she had thought that in the last year, he would have gained more confidence in himself.
Looking rather green, he leaned back on the wall adjacent from her and rested his head, closing his eyes and groaning. He looked pale and sweaty, how he did before a Quidditch match. Hermione positioned herself so that she was closer to him, and took his hand in hers. At her touch, his eyes fluttered open and he managed a weak smile.
"I bet you're having second thoughts now," he croaked, squeezing her hand in his.
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "About what?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder as he swayed dangerously. He didn't look her in the eyes out of embarrassment.
"About doing this. About me," Ron mumbled, still not looking at her.
She shook her head vehemently. "Not at all," she said truthfully, gazing up at him, and this time he looked at her. His smile became stronger, then his eyes widened and he lunged forward, just making it to the toilet before being sick again. Hermione watched his bowed head, his long arms gripping the porcelain for support. After a few moments, he sat back up, joining her back on the wall.
"Are you sure you're not?" he joked feebly. Hermione shook her head a second time.
"Not at all. But what I don't understand is why you're so nervous?" she asked, taking his hand in hers again.
Ron closed his eyes a second time. "We have a test tomorrow, Stealth and Concealment. It's not like school; where if you get a bad mark its not a problem. In the Auror training program, if you pass the exam, you get to move on to the next...level, I guess. If you don't…they ask you to leave...which is a nice way of saying they kick you out of the program," he moaned. He lunged to the toilet again, and then sat back against the wall, shaking his had and saying, "False alarm."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Just like that? One exam and they dismiss you?" she said incredulously.
Ron nodded, laughing humorlessly. "There's a reason why the Auror Department is so exclusive, and why so few of them make it. They keep on cutting until there are only three or four left," he said softly.
"Well," Hermione said bracingly. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Think of all the others trying out, you've had more experience than the lot of them put together!" she said, smiling at him. He tried to return it, but it faded away like smoke.
"Hermione, it's Stealth and Concealment. No matter how much experience I've had, no one else needs to attempt to conceal six foot three," he groaned, and threw himself at the toilet again, nearly missing before he got sick.
"Harry's got it easy," Ron continued, as if there had not been a break in their conversation. "He's only five foot nine. But me? How the bloody hell do you sneak around when you're six foot three. I don't understand why I had to be so tall," he pouted. Hermione tried hard to bite back her laughter.
"You'll be fine, I know you will be, I have complete faith in you," Hermione said reassuringly, rubbing his arm supportively.
Ron shook his head vehemently. "No, Malfoy was right all along; what's the use of even trying, all I'll do is make a fool of myself. I'm too tall to exist, Hermione," he said dramatically. It appeared that he believed in some of what he was saying though; he turned slightly green again, and dove at the toilet, nearly hitting his head before he got sick.
"Oh, Ron," she said hopelessly as he coughed. She did not know what else to say to him, or what possibly could make him feel better. "You're really, really good. You'll do well, I know you will," she said soothingly.
"Hermione," Ron said, sitting back against the wall, his head tilted at an odd angle, closing his eyes again. "Would you still love me if I failed the test tomorrow, got kicked out of the Auror Program, and had to work for Magical Maintenance?" he asked melodramatically.
Hermione laughed. "I'd still love you if you were on the reserve team for the Chudley Canons," she joked.
Ron laughed, opening his eyes and giving her a searching yet comical look. "Really? I don't think I'd even be able to like myself if that happened." He laughed then rubbed his eyes and added, "Jesus, I'm tired."
Hermione nodded in agreement; they had not slept at all the night before. She remembered their conversation vividly:
…
"Hermione?" Ron asked softly into the darkness from somewhere very close to her. She had rolled onto her side, and she could feel his chin resting on her shoulder. She turned around so that she was facing him. She could see his eyes in the darkness and she leaned into him, pressing her bare torso against his.
Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice. "Yes?" she whispered, and she was surprised to hear that she was speaking softly.
"What do we do now?" Ron asked, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. Of course he would ask a question like that. The problem was, she didn't know how to answer. She wasn't sure what you were supposed to do…after. Somehow, that part hadn't been brought up in the birds-and-the-bees conversation.
"I don't know," she said truthfully, trying to keep her voice under control. "In films…well…they just sort of…go to sleep," she said, trying very hard not to laugh.
"What! Go to sleep? There's no bloody way I can sleep after that!" Ron cried indignantly, and Hermione really did laugh this time. He was right; it would be impossible to sleep when they had just…well, she didn't think she would be able to even close her eyes, she was so filled with happiness.
"Yes, it seems rather unlikely," she said lightly, kissing him softly on the cheek. "But what do we do instead?" she asked, lightly running her finger up and down his arm. His silence told her exactly what he would like to be doing, and she smiled into the darkness.
…
The sheer happiness of it all, of the finality, had kept them from sleeping. Hermione had vainly suggested trying, but she knew it would never happen. Her brain was racing so fast, and she still had that pulsing feeling in her veins. It had been the first time since last year when they went camping that she had not slept all night. This time was different; they did not stay awake out of fear, they stayed awake because they were too happy, too alive to sleep. They had just discovered the most wonderful secret in the world; sleep seemed like a terrible waste of time.
"Should we go to bed?" she suggested, picking herself up off the floor and stretching; the cold tile had been quite uncomfortable, but she hadn't complained once. Ron followed her, slightly unsteady on his feet and gripping the wall for support. Clutching her hand, he followed her into the bedroom.
"Hermione," Ron said, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "I was thinking, what's the harm: not sleeping two nights in a row? And besides, I don't need my sleep; I know I'll fail tomorrow," Ron said, kicking his shirt aside and grinning.
Hermione scrunched up her nose. "You are disgusting. You just got sick about ten times, and you want to…"
"I feel loads better now," Ron interrupted, his expression earnest.
Hermione shook her head as she got into bed, pulling the blankets close to her chin. "Absolutely not. There must be some twenty-four-hour rule for vomiting or something," she said, feeling herself sink a little as Ron got into bed next to her.
"I've never heard of a rule like that," Ron said in mock-grumpiness before extinguishing the lights and settling in next to her.
***
Twelve o' clock the next day saw Hermione sitting in her favorite corner of the library, the familiar stacks of heavy volumes surrounding her like impregnable walls. She had a heavy book propped on her legs and was trying to balance the book on her knees as she wrote, which was proving to be very difficult. She had already overturned her inkwell twice, which she had hastily repaired.
Hermione had been right; this was the perfect job for her. She loved spending her days sitting here in the old library with its high ceilings and thickly carpeted floors. The room was filled with high bookshelves crammed with rows and rows of leather-bound books begging to be read. She loved the smell of their old parchment and secrets.
Will rarely joined her in the library; he said it freaked him out, the monotony of it. Usually he dashed around picking up books at random and carried them back to his desk while Hermione worked away in her little corner. She didn't mind at all; years of solitary studying at school had prepared her for this. But she couldn't deny that it got lonely sometimes, and quiet. She could practically hear the silence beating down on her, as inescapable as sun.
Making sure she wouldn't trip over her walls, she stepped over the tower of books and placed the book she had been reading back on the shelf above her. She struggled to put it back; the shelves were crammed and once a book was taken out, the rest were very reluctant to return to being packed tight.
"Hey," a voice whispered, and she felt something soft brush the back of her neck. She couldn't help it; she reacted instinctively. She turned on the spot, the heavy book still in her hands, and swung it at whoever had just crept up behind her. She had been alone for the last four hours, and she was very unaccustomed to having other people near her while she worked.
"Jesus! Bloody hell, why the hell did you do that?" Ron shouted, staggering back and clutching his head. Hermione let the book fall out of her hands with a sharp bang as she clasped her hands to her mouth in shock.
"Oh my…Ron, I'm so sorry…I didn't…" she said, rushing towards him and gingerly touching the spot where she had hit him. He was leaning against the far bookshelf, his hands holding his forehead.
"You're really strong, did you know that?" Ron said grumpily, taking his fingers off of his head, as if examining for blood. "I think you broke skin," he exclaimed.
"Oh, stop," she said guiltily. "It wasn't that hard, was it?"
Ron looked down at her, though he did not seem angry anymore. "Yeah, it was!" he said indignantly.
"Well," she said, spluttering. "I wasn't expecting anyone and you just came up from behind me, didn't you? Why are you here, anyway?" she asked, taking the book from the floor and cramming it onto the bookshelf.
Ron's eyes lit up. "I wanted to tell you: I passed!" he shouted the last two words, his voice echoing around the silent room. Hermione could hear someone jump and drop their book a few isles over.
She gasped. "You passed the exam on Stealth and Concealment! I knew you would!" she cried, crossing the small distance between them and leaping into his ready arms and he hugged her tightly.
"Yeah, I did really well. I guess I'm good at sneaking around," he said, raising his eyebrows and pointing to the bump on his head where she had hit him. "But I guess you figured that one out yourself just now," he added and she felt her cheeks grow warm.
"Alright, fine. I'll make it up to you. What would you like," Hermione said generously, still feeling guilty; the bump was swelling rather rapidly.
Ron's eyes widened as he told her without words exactly what he would like, and she shook her head. "No, twenty-four-hour rule, remember?" she said, crossing her arms as she read his expression.
"Hermione," Ron groaned. "Just think about it. I just passed my Stealth and Concealment exam – one that seven people failed, mind you – and now I have to go back with this huge bump on my head and tell everyone that my girlfriend did this. Because I can get through Death Eaters and beasts Hagrid wouldn't even touch, but I couldn't make it past all five foot four of you. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Ron said theatrically. Hermione bit her lip; he was making it very hard for her to say no.
But she shook her head. "You were sick last night, and…"
"Yeah, out of nerves, I'm not genuinely ill," Ron interrupted, drawing himself up to his full height. She crossed her arms, though she did have a point.
"Yes, Ron but…" she said softly, not having an argument. There were no rules; she had just made them up on a whim last night, and now they were back to haunt her.
She was also battling something inside her head, though she knew she would never tell Ron what it was; he would tease her incessantly for it. In all of her long hours in the library with only the dusty volumes for company, she had formulated something of a…well, a fantasy in her mind. It made her blush to think about it; surely you were not supposed to think of such things at work. She had imagined Ron coming in here in his work clothes and they would be together in the silent library, just the two of them. Somehow, it always commenced with her taking his tie in her fist and leading him toward her, because she found it alluring, though she would never actually do it. It was a terribly cliché thing to do.
But he was right here, right in front of her. He was practically begging – no, he was begging – to fulfill those trivial little fantasies she had been playing out in her mind for months. And why was she saying no? Because of some stupid little rule she had made up last night.
She took a step closed to him, and his eyes darkened with excitement. He ran a hand down her back as hers curled around his neck.
"I brushed my teeth twice since then," he added as her face was less than in inch from his.
"How romantic," she whispered, rolling her eyes and then kissing him.
It was wonderful, even better than she had imagined and she hadn't done the ridiculous tie thing. It was purely the fact that they were in a library – they were at work – that made it heated and passionate. They were in a place where they were expressly not allowed to do exactly what they were doing. Ron's euphoria of passing the exam and her heightened tension of breaking employee rules mixed as they gasped for air. Hermione briefly wondered if someone a few rows over would hear them and report them, but then Ron slid his hand up her shirt and she forgot that there were other people in the world, much less the library.
"Her – oh! Er…sorry," said a voice from very, very far away. The two broke away and Hermione hastily fixed her shirt and Ron ran his hands through his hair. Will was standing in front of them, his cheeks bright red, and his eyes cast down at the ground.
"Oh," Hermione said helplessly, looking at Ron, then Will, then Ron again. She didn't know what to say to either of them, or how to possibly make the situation any less awkward.
"I just needed to return the book I borrowed last night," Will said, speaking to the paisley-printed carpet at his feet. Hermione nodded even though she knew he could not see her. She watched helplessly as he shuffled around her to put the book back, his eyes still not on either of them.
"Erm, Ron, this is Will. Will this is, um, Ron," Hermione said shakily, because Ron was looking at the young man with bewilderment. As Hermione made the introduction, Ron's eyes lit with recognition. He stood up, seeming to enjoy that he was a full head taller than his enemy – the Man Who Worked With Hermione.
"Hey," Ron said challengingly, his voice much deeper than it normally was, and holding his hand out to Will. Will took it, though he still did not look at Ron. Hermione thought this might be for the best; Ron was sizing Will up as a boxer might evaluate his opponent. Hermione winced as she saw Ron grip Will's hand tighter than was natural.
An awkward sort of silence passed between the three of them. Then Will looked up, and said to Hermione, "Well, I have a meeting now, Brinkley asked me to sit in and take notes, so you can take your lunch break if you want," he said, and she started a little. It seemed that Will's tactic was to pretend that nothing had happened and he had not just walked in on the two of them. Hermione took his lead because it was better than any other option.
"Perfect," she said, hitching her bag over her shoulder. "I just finished the last memo for Burrns, so I'll get something to eat before I start on the new one. I just got one from Madam Houghton, and you know her, it'll take at least the rest of the afternoon," she said, fully and uncomfortably aware of how Ron's eyes had darkened with jealously as the two of them spoke in a language he did not understand.
Will picked up his bag, which he had evidently dropped when he walked in on the two of them. Hermione watched as Ron's eyes widened as Will secured the fastening. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to one of the many buttons on Will's bag. Hermione hoped with all of her might that it was not a Tornados badge; she thought Ron might lose all control and attack if it was.
Will's cheeks turned a little red. "Er, it's a Cannons badge," he said, trying to move it out of sight. Ron's mouth dropped open in surprise.
"You don't support them, do you?" he asked incredulously.
"Maybe I do," Will said defensively. "What's it to you?" he added, straightening his back and vainly trying to lessen the six inches Ron had on him.
"I've been a Cannon's fan since I was five!" Ron said excitedly, and the air between them changed instantly. Hermione groaned. "I can't believe you support them," he continued. "Hardly anyone does anymore, not that many people ever did."
Will nodded enthusiastically, "I've always supported them; Dad said it was a waste of time. He's a bit sore though; my uncle Frank played for the Cannon's, and Dad always wanted to play, so I guess he just got a bit jealous.
Ron's eyes widened. "You must be joking. You're related to Frank Owens?" when Will nodded, Ron let out a low whistle. "That is so cool, he was a pretty good player," he said, and Will grinned.
"I'm going to take my lunch break," Hermione chimed in, but neither appeared to hear her. Rolling her eyes, she walked right between them, muttering, "Boys and Quidditch," and left the only two Cannon supporters to talk animatedly.
When she stepped onto the pavement, she blinked back tears as the bright rays of crisp winter blinded her. She made her way to her favorite café, a small shop less than a block from the Ministry. It was the ideal place to go; it was quiet so she could do extra work and they had tea that almost rivaled Mrs. Weasley's.
She sat down in her favorite table, a small four-seater in the corner near the window. She ordered a large cup of tea and pulled a worn book out of her bag and started to read. No one else was in the café; it didn't get much business and Hermione thought that if it weren't for her extremely generous tips, the place wouldn't stay open.
She was so immersed in her book, with the warm steam of the tea heating her face that she didn't look up when the tinkling bells on the door chimed, announcing that someone else had come in.
"I vould like one coffee please, black," said the person who had entered, and nothing but that voice and that accent would have made Hermione look up from her book.
Viktor Krum was standing three feet away from her, his arms rested on the counter as he waited for his drink. Hermione jumped, dropping a book for the second time that day and diving under the table to retrieve it. When she surfaced, she had caught his attention and he was looking at her in disbelief.
"Herm-own-ninny?" he said, stunned, pronouncing her name in the way that had so irked Ron. Hermione smiled weakly as he walked over to her. She motioned to the empty chair opposite her and he sat down, never taking his eyes off of her. He was making her feel slightly uncomfortable.
"How are you?" she asked slightly breathily, her nerves making her voice a little high-pitched. Her subconscious imagined Ron sitting in a chair in between the two of them, slouching in a chair and acting all surly as she got flustered.
"I am vell, and you? I heard so many stories about you the last year. Apparently you broke into a bank and vent camping around the vorld!" he said, leaning back in his chair as if to admire her better. Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm.
"Well, yes, that all happened, but I wasn't alone," she said rather lamely. How on earth was she supposed to sum up the last year and a half in the fifty minutes she was allotted for lunch break? "What are you doing in London?" she asked in a transparent attempt to change the conversation.
"Ah, just some interviews. Some magazine vanted to hear me talk about my life," Viktor said sarcastically, and Hermione smiled. This, at least, they could both understand. Hermione had gotten a lot of press recognition since last May. "You look beautiful," he added. The imagined Ron in the chair near her pulled a face and made a threat under his breath. Hermione almost laughed aloud.
Hermione smiled. "Thank you. I'm working, actually. I'm at the Ministry now," she said proudly, trying to steer away from his compliment and fully aware that her desk job would not impress a famous Quidditch player, no matter how much he liked her.
"That sounds vunderful. And do you like your job?" Viktor asked, leaning forward in genuine interest. He was making this so much harder for her.
"Yes, I do," she said, nodding. "I actually just moved to a flat in London yesterday, I was staying…somewhere else. I'm closer to work now," she said evasively.
Viktor raised his eyebrows. "You have a flat? All alone in the city? Von't you get lonely? I vould be lonely if lived alone in a flat."
Hermione's heart picked up; he had created the perfect opportunity for her. "Actually, I'm not living alone, Viktor," she said.
He nodded, "It's that boy, isn't it? The von at the vedding? The von vith all the red hair, no? You are living vith him?" He did not sound angry; rather, he sounded as though he expected it.
Hermione nodded. "I am, yes," she said softly.
"I alvays knew it," Viktor said sagely, and Hermione looked up in surprise. He gauged her reaction and sat back in her chair. "I could tell by the vay he looked at you at the vedding," he said, and Hermione blushed at his bluntness as he rendered her temporarily speechless. The imagined Ron looked slightly embarrassed yet also very pleased and proud. Hermione knew what it meant that she was picturing Ron sitting here between them. And she knew what she had to tell him.
"Viktor," Hermione said softly, and Viktor's dark eyes had a knowing look to them.
"I know vhat you are going to say. Ve can't see or talk to each other anymore, am I right?" Viktor asked, and Hermione bit her lip, nodding.
She did not know how she could possibly explain it to Viktor. How no matter how many times she told Ron that she loved him, no matter how many times she kissed him or took his hand in hers, there would always be Viktor Krum. The one who had asked her first, the one who had kissed her first. She had seen Ron get jealous of Will a few minutes ago; she had seen him envy a boy she had never had feelings for. It was just the way Ron was: always slightly insecure and doubtful of his own abilities; not to mention incurably jealous. To Ron, Hermione knew, Viktor Krum represented everything he wasn't: rich, famous, and the first one to kiss Hermione. And Hermione knew that as long as she talked to Viktor, Ron would still be jealous. He would always be a reminder of what Ron had been too afraid to do. And even though those years were past, she knew that Ron would never stop hating Viktor Krum.
"I understand," Viktor said simply, and Hermione looked up, surprised.
"You do?" she asked incredulously, and Viktor nodded.
"Of course I understand. If I vere him and he vas me, I vouldn't vant you to see me either. I vould vant to throw the past avay," Viktor said with that same simple finality.
"And you're alright…with that?" Hermione asked slowly, and Viktor nodded again. She smiled and stood up, putting her book back in her bag and taking her mug.
"Yes, I am fine. You are not going to tell him you saw me, are you?" he asked knowingly.
Hermione shook her head. She would never tell Ron that she had seen Viktor Krum. She did not know why, but it seemed like the sort of thing that should remain between the two of them. No, she wouldn't tell Ron about this conversation.
"Well, it was really nice seeing you Viktor, I hope…I hope everything goes well for you," she said, hating herself for the lump that had grown in the back of her throat.
Viktor smiled and tilted his face toward her. "I hope everything goes vell for you too. I hope you are very happy with him," he said, and Hermione beamed.
"Goodbye," she said, leaning down and kissing him briefly and chastely on the cheek. Then she turned to go, leaving Viktor Krum and all of Ron's past insecurities behind.
~*~
Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long; I feel so guilty! I had a few versions of this chapter – originally it was going to be their moving day and the next chapter would center around Will and Viktor. However, I began writing that and it turned out to be really dull so I rewrote it; part of the reason why this is so delayed. The italicized bit in the beginning was how this chapter was supposed to start. I liked the idea of Ron asking that kind of question (it seems like a Ron thing to do) so I kept it.
I actually like this chapter. I know, I'm usually so insecure with my writing, but I actually like this one! The AMAZING reviewer urbanmama gave me the idea to make Will and Ron friends and I really liked the idea. I also added the end part with Viktor because I thought he deserved some closure : ) Oh, was my accent alright? I wanted to sound authentic, so I used the Yule Ball chaper of Goblet of Fire a lot! I've read a few fanfictions where Viktor's accent was a mix of his and Fleurs, so I wanted to make it as close as J.K. Rowling's as possible, but I'm not very good with accents so I hope it's alright!
Please review if you can!