Disclaimer: J K Rowling is the creator and owner of the Harry Potter series.
Chapter 35. It's Raining Men, Help!
A date with Draco Malfoy, the father of her child. Their second date. Hogsmeade ended up being a disaster, would this one have the same outcome? The couple browsing through the Home Renovations section smiled at her, she returned the gesture. She'd give them five more minutes and then approach them. In the meantime, her Fiction collection was a mess and her computer was having a tantrum. A date! She laughed inside. She had sex with the man three days ago! Twice in one night! Three if one counted the quick tumble at dawn. Which would make it two days ago and not three if she wanted to be precise. Know-it-all Hermione Granger couldn't get enough of the Prince of Slytherin, the two-face, cheating bastard! Yet, Draco could be kind, charming and loving when he wanted to. Her heart softened a little. The flat looked wonderful and John Albus's room was gorgeous! She shook her head and commanded those thoughts to go take a hike and give room to the pragmatic, analytical side of her brain. What was Draco up to?
Hermione strolled toward the shelves in need of straightening and proceeded to organize the books in a mechanical fashion while questions and troubled presentiments crowded her thoughts. Draco made it abundantly clear he would settle for nothing else but marriage and their return to the wizarding world and yet, he fixes her flat? Flowers? He apologized! To her parents? 'In time and if she'll take me back'. He felt guilty because of that woman; that's the reason behind his odd behaviour and his oh so amazing generosity in bed. The tingling, moist sensation between her legs soon followed the perking up of her breasts. She bit her lip and shook her whole body. Apparently the blood flow to her brain had been compromised. And they say that men are always thinking with 'their other head', but women were just as bad. He flicks his wrist and she is all Ooh! and Aah! That's so sweet! No! His hands roamed another woman's body, his lips kissed, pleasured the bitch and...then... Hermione stamped her feet angrily. What's the matter with her! The bronze bell hanging over the door chimed. The handsome couple had left. Thank you, Draco!
She looked up to the heavens as if she might find the answer to her questions, let out an angry sigh and stared at the cover of the book she was holding. A romance novel's cover––with the ever muscled, long haired, handsome heroe about to ravish the just as gorgeous damsel in distress—reminded her even more of the blonde, sharp- tongued and not so handsome man in her life. No need to deny it. Draco was in her heart to stay even if she'd send him away. And if he told her the truth about his infidelity...What then? Would she be able to make love to him without comparing herself to the other woman? Draco, for all his selfishness had been a very generous lover, even before they became intimate he sought to please her in that decadent way he had of rousing her senses without even touching her. Their last time together she had become that woman tossing aside every trace of her prudish, self-conscious self. She had flaunted her nakedness; she had voiced what she wanted and how she wanted it while at the same time she'd truly, thoroughly ravished him. She had given and taken and demanded more as if trying to erase every trace of Draco's lover from his body and he obliged. Why wouldn't he? He was a man and she pleased him like a seductress would. Draco hadn't mentioned marriage, or the house 'they' bought in Hogsmeade, or Hogwarts. John Albus and her future at the shop had come up and so had the gold at Gringotts. Hermione mentioned the reward the Ministry had given her and all Draco had to say about the shop or the gold was: nothing. She'd expected some smart remark, a put down but, no, he'd kissed her brow and that was that.
"Hermione Granger?" Jumping on her spot Hermione turned abruptly to the direction of the deep, rich and very masculine voice. Her eyes opened wide and then landed on the cover of the book she was holding. Another double take to the man in front of her and the man on the cover. Dear Lord! Those men do exist! She blinked rapidly; it didn't work, he was still there, smiling. And what a smile that was!
"Are you Hermione Granger?" Gorgeous Man asked stepping in closer.
"Are you for real?" Hermione blurted out wincing. Her right hand, the one holding the book sealed her lips. Gorgeous Man frowned but, his blue cobalt eyes expressed amusement at her outburst. Hermione felt warmth rushing to her face. The book was still on top of her lips as she said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I was looking at the––" She hid the book behind her back. Words were having a hard time coming out in a sentence.
"Sebastian Dorgan at your service even if you aren't Hermione Granger." He took her hand in his and left it there while his eyes, those deep blue eyes of his, x-rayed her from head to toe and then settled on her face.
"Oh, but I am!" She sounded like an eager, star-struck teenager. "I mean, I'm Hermione Granger." His fingers slid away from her but the heat they emanated, lingered a few seconds longer.
Sebastian Dorgan was sensuality encased in a body only the dead could ignore and Hermione had blood running through her veins and eyes, twenty-twenty vision, and those brown orbs of hers were finding it hard not to stare at him. He was a big hunk of man! His hair was black, charcoal was a better description. The silky shoulder length strands fell lazily over his very handsome face. He brushed the wayward locks of hair behind his ear. The muscles on his arm bunched up; he must be one of those gym crazed men, all overgrown muscles and little brain. Perfect straight nose, thick eyelashes. Even the faint stubble adorning his features suited him and his skin...maybe he was one of those idiots who lay under those lamps or coloured their skin and pretended they lived somewhere else. Sunlight in England was an elusive luxury. He was wearing beige linen trousers, a pair of very expensive light brown loafers and a white, also linen, shirt, which hugged his torso so tight there was no need to guess what lied under it: hard as rock biceps.
"I hope I'm not interrupting but Jeremiah insisted that this was the best time." He smiled again, that lazy, sensual smile of his and Hermione found herself swallowing dry. This wasn't happening. Her plate was full, her life in turmoil and all because of men: her son, Draco, 'the cheating bastard you were just lusting for a minute ago', Harry, even her father and now Adonis here, all muscles, and sex appeal and gorgeous hair and deep blue eyes and...
"Mr. Lynch?" Thank God! Her brain was working. "He sent you here?" Adonis gave her one of his mocking glances. She wiped her hands on her skirt, fixed her messy ponytail and took a step back colliding with the shelf behind her.
"He didn't call, did he?" Did Adonis ever not smile? It was most disturbing. "He said you are expanding. I'm an architect, you need one."
"You are the architect?" She asked not totally convinced beauty and brains could mix. Sebastian laughed, amused, as if he knew what she was thinking.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" No, she wasn't, and who gave him permission to address her by her Christian name?
"I'm fine thank you, Mr. Dorgan," she answered primly.
"Sebastian, if you please." His eyes grinned at her and she more or less ran behind the counter. Her hands started playing with papers, stacking them, mixing them, anything to keep her busy and regain her composure.
Sebastian glanced around, assessing, she guessed, what he had to work with. He strolled back to the entrance and gazed out the window. From one of his trousers' pockets he took what, to Hermione, looked like a Blackberry and started writing on it. She drank from her water bottle. Biting her bottom lip she wondered what her reaction to Adonis meant. It wasn't as if she had been celibate for a long time, forty eight hours to be accurate. Up to five minutes ago she had been thinking about Draco, the only man she had ever been head-over-heels in love with and still was. The tug at her heart confirmed it. Lust? No, she couldn't envision herself wrapped in Sebastian's arms and yet...the minute her eyes focused on him she felt...Oh God! She gasped in silence. She was attracted to a man she just met and she was in love with another. Was that even possible? No, if she could help it. No, a thousand times no, the last thing she needed or wanted was...
"I can see why you wanted the expansion. The neighbourhood is having a renaissance of sorts, isn't it?" Sebastian said. She drank in one long gulp what was left in the bottle and prepared for battle.
"We'd be foolish not to take advantage of it. Mr. Lynch must have forgotten to call, my apologies if I sounded a bit out of sorts my computer is acting up again and I need to email a few orders. May I offer you something to drink?" she asked trying not to stare at him, keeping her hands at her back.
"No, thank you." He ate the distance separating them in just two steps. "You have pretty eyes. Very expressive." Hermione kept quiet. "Would it be possible to take a look at the store next door?" Hermione clasped her hands tighter and bit her lip. He was too close for comfort.
"I'll get you the keys." She didn't wait for his response and made a run for the office. Grasping the keys from the small desk she turned on her heels only to collide with a wall of muscle. He took her by the shoulders.
"Are you always in a rush, Hermione?" he asked while his fingers kneaded her shoulders.
"It's a busy shop," she answered finding his ministrations rather nice. She opened her eyes which she didn't realize she had closed and found him staring at her. His hands somehow were holding hers, the thumbs of both drawing circles on top of hers.
"Here," she said yanking her hands and presenting him with the keys. "Take your time, I have work to do, if you'll excuse me."
And off she went annoyed at herself and at men in particular. Typing as fast as her fingers were able, Hermione attempted to log in again. Good, she was in, but the browser was not responding.
"Come on, you stupid thing!" she said exasperated.
"Maybe I can help." Mr. Dorgan, she refused to call him anything else, was literally breathing on her neck.
"No, thank you. Don't you have a job to do?" Hermione snapped albeit without lifting her gaze.
Coming around her, Sebastian pushed his way in, shoving Hermione gently to the side. "Now let me see what we have here," he said softly glancing back at a fuming Hermione.
The bell chimed. Two young women walked in. "Go ahead, I'll take care of this." He grinned and she huffed and stomped her feet and plastered a fake smile on her face as she walked toward the customers.
And so Sebastian fixed the computer, emailed the orders, helped with the shelves and with the dozen customers who waltzed in all the while taking every chance to touch her; a feathered push on the small of her back to answer the phone, a light brush of his fingers on her bare arm, on her hand. She, of course, glared at him at every opportunity but he kept on smiling, invading her space every chance he got.
"I have to close now," she said looking at her watch. No way she was going to let him suggest lunch. For the first time in her life she craved a stiff alcoholic beverage.
"I had so much fun I forgot to go next door," Sebastian said as he pulled the shades down. The gall of the man!
"Not my problem." Hermione reduced the distance between the counter and the front door in record time, opened the door only to be obstructed by the most annoying, overbearing, man she ever met not counting that other bloke, the one she slept with not two days ago, the one whose child she carried for nine bloody months... She inhaled. God up in heaven, Mr. Dorgan smelled so good!
"We worked really hard this morning, we both deserve a succulent lunch. What do you say? Do we have a date?" He was so close and she so discombobulated and flustered and so confused she was desperate to put some distance between them.
"I have errands to run. Anyway, nice to meet you." He followed her outside. Persistent man!
"Not even a thank you! I think you owe me lunch." Sebastian had his hand on her lower back; Hermione quickened her pace and turned around.
"Listen, Mr. Dorgan." She felt murderous and she liked it. Finally something to help her think straight. "I owe you nothing! You must think you are God's gift to women, the broad shoulders, the long hair, those deep as the sea blue eyes, the charming smile, the rebel lock of hair on your cheek" Her hand was half way up when she abruptly brought it back down. He grinned again for the thousandth time. "It's not going to work with me. I honestly, truly have no time for whatever it is you are thinking. I..."
Sebastian hushed her with his right index finger on her lips while his thumb caressed her cheek in minute circles. He looked serious in spite of the glint in his eyes. Hermione blinked rapidly to break the spell she was under and stepped back but he was holding her hand.
"Go on, Hermione, run. Deny it all you want." Sebastian pointed to the two of them. "We are attracted to each other." Hermione was about to protest and then he did the unthinkable: he kissed her! Not an open mouth, tongues meeting kind of kiss but he did, he kissed her. His lips brushed hers ever so slightly with just a hint of wetness as his tongue delineated her mouth, leaving her wide-eyed and incapable uttering a word.
"I wanted to do this all morning. See you tomorrow love. Enjoy your lunch." Hermione watched him saunter away, hands in his pockets, turning his head one last time. He winked. She couldn't move as she stared at the diminishing figure of Sebastian as it disappeared into the crowd. By the time she realized she had been standing for goodness knows how long, her gaze collided with Horace's who must have witnessed the whole thing. Hermione cried out inwardly, rolling her eyes, glancing up at the blue skies again.
She glared at Horace, pivoted on her heels and with fists at her side she castigated the pavement on her way back to the shop. Slamming the door behind her, she locked it and continued her furious path to the back office, opened the door to the back alley smashing it against its frame on her way out, locked it. Two by two she climbed the stairs leading to her flat and, out of breath, she went in. A gush of air blew out of her mouth. Closing the door Hermione screamed. "Sod it! No, fuck it all! This is not happening. The next man who crosses my path...oooh!"
Harry and Ron Apparated at the foot of the steps leading to Hermione's flat. He tried to contact her mobile. It was off and he didn't know the shop's phone number so there they were. The shop was closed, she wasn't having lunch at the small park around the corner or at the take out she usually frequented. Their best bet was the flat. Ron gazed up knotting his eyebrows, as Harry stood on the steps looking at him.
"Ron, her decision, remember? The minute you start screaming and demanding anything from her I'll drag you back to The Burrow." Ron nodded his agreement.
Harry climbed one more step. He faced Ron again. "When she reads this," he tightened the hold on the newspaper. "The last thing she might want is to hear your name, she'd suspect you have something to do with it."
"Harry, I swear..." Harry hushed his friend. Ron snapped his mouth closed and sat on the step leading out from the office.
The more Harry thought about it the less he liked the idea of Hermione and Ron being in the same room after she read the article. One wrong gesture or word coming from either one of them, and he was pretty sure Ron would be the first one to trip over his tongue, and an all out war would explode right in front of him. Then again, he'd be close by, if not in the same room. He glanced back at the door five or so steps away. Shrugged his shoulders and up he went as he said. "I'll come out to fetch you, stay right there, don't move," he warned Ron.
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The first knock on the door startled her; the second she ignored, biting furiously into her sandwich; the third propelled her to the door which she yanked open.
"Listen to me, Mr. Dorgan, you'd...!" It wasn't Mr. Dorgan but it was a man, a dear old friend but still a man. "Oh, it's you, Harry, I thought..."
Harry didn't wait to be invited in. Hermione scowled at him and said something under her breath, stepping aside. "Do come in, Harry, why don't you?"
"Something wrong, Hermione?" He gave her a crooked smile. "Bad day at the office? Who is Mr. Dorgan?"
She glared at him. "He is a man."
Harry glanced around him approving it seemed of what he saw. But she knew him well. He was tense, jumpy and he couldn't or wouldn't make eye contact with her. She'd give him a few minutes, no, seconds before listening to the bad news, because there were bad news. She went to her spot underneath the window facing the street. Sitting on the floor she drank from her water bottle, took the book she had been trying to read for half an hour and placed it on her lap. She looked up. Harry tangled his fingers on his hair. Crossing her legs at the ankles she closed the book.
"Okay, what is it?" she asked. Harry swallowed.
"What are you reading?" he asked but she wasn't in the mood for delaying antics.
"Harry, either tell me or get out. I'm in no mood for games." From behind his back a wrinkled, worn out newspaper, was offered to her.
"This came out on Monday," She took it from his hand. "I thought you needed to know." He sat beside her. Hermione knitted her brow, moving her lips as she read and half way through the article her breathing accelerated. She sprang from the floor. Back and forth her feet moved, from the counter to the opposite wall.
Harry rose and waited. Hermione struggled for control of her anger. Years ago she allowed a couple of articles much like this one run her out of town. Not this time. Not when her son's well being was at stake. She tossed the paper angrily to the floor and continued her pacing, back and forth, back and forth, fists at her sides, her face hidden by lose strands of hair, chest jutting in and out. She stopped in front of Harry glaring at him.
"Ron has done it again, hasn't he? And you are here to stop me from murdering him, aren't you?" She didn't care if Harry was affronted by her accusation. The pained expression in his eyes didn't fool her this time. It had never been about her where Ron was concerned; no matter how stupid, mean or thick headed the amoeba brain behaved toward her, Harry managed to take his side using the coward's way out, by keeping his mouth shut or by interceding for Ron, as if the man was a feeble minded wizard in need of a mouth piece. Well, Harry could go to hell for all she cared.
"You tell Ron this time I'll bury him. Going after me is one thing, but my son, Harry, my son is off-limits." Harry met her gaze. He was taken aback by her reaction? She looked at him more closely; he appeared relieved.
"There is nothing in the article about your son but, I agree with you. We should strike back." It sounded like a challenge. 'We?'
"What, you're not denying it? This is Ron's doing." She was itching for a good fight and Harry wasn't helping with his out of character reaction to her accusations.
"If I tell you he is not behind it, would you believe me?" The gleam in his eyes added some fuel to her simmering temper but not enough to punch the daylights out of him. "Ron can speak for himself if you care to listen to him. I'm not going to get involved this time."
Could it be? Ron not being involved? She wasn't convinced yet. Ron would stop at nothing to hurt her and Harry would be the first to intercede on behalf of his best friend. Harry was using a new tactic but she wasn't fooled by it.
"If I knew he had anything to do with it Hermione, I'd be the first one to hex his balls off. None of us told him we had contacted you, he found out through the paper." Harry wasn't avoiding her gaze now. The tension she perceived in him had disappeared. He stood there, arms on his pockets, rolling on his heels no longer anxious or hesitant but expectant, excited and he wasn't denying or confirming Ron's involvement either.
"Forget Ron." She'd deal with the bastard sooner or later.
Her main concern was John Albus and Draco. Death-Eater, former Death Eater, she corrected herself, and her son and not far behind, her parents. She could visualize the headlines once those leeches learned of her son's existence and who his father was. The wizarding world, as far as she was concerned, was stuck in time. Middle ages or early nineteenth century. Playing with a wooden stick didn't make them any more enlightened than England at the end of the 1800's. Journalism had come a long way since then, at least amongst Muggles. The Yellow press was derided in her world. In their world it was the only kind of journalism they knew. Accusations without proof, reputations ruined based on lies, hearsay or the so call reporter's own version of the event. Confirmation of the facts? Why bother? Well, she would teach the son of bitches how it was done!
"I let Ron and that sorry excuse of a newspaper tar and feather me out of their world. You tell Ron it isn't going to work. An innocent little boy is not going to be their target. You'd better tell him, Harry, to keep out of my way!" The flat was closing in on her. Rage, pure, unchecked, out of control rage, had impaired her.
The door flung open. Hermione turned around. Ron was standing in her living room! She wasn't aware of her arm lifting or of the iron fist colliding with his jaw. Ron fell to the ground. Harry jumped in between the two of them.
"Let go of me, Harry!" she said seething with her out of control fury. Harry held on to her arms tightly. He glanced to the man on the floor, dazed and struggling to open his eyes. She did the same and tried to free herself from Harry's hold.
"Hermione," Harry implored. "Hermione!" She met his gaze. Harry was neither afraid, nor concerned, he was angry. "If you don't listen to me I am going to..."
"I want him out of here, out my neighbourhood, out of my city, out of my life!" Movement behind Harry caught her attention. Ron's impressive self rose. Harry hesitated for a second, enough for her to back away from him.
There he was, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Looking at her with those beautiful blue eyes of his, and really nothing had changed. He was taller, stronger, impressive and yet, he still looked at her as if she should be begging for forgiveness, as if she owed him God knows what! What does it say about her when for years she sighed, waited with baited breath for a glance, a touch, an acknowledgment; when she wished she wasn't as smart, as ambitious. She was willing to negate whom she was to please him, to fit into his life. Hermione let out a grunt and met Ron's gaze. The best defense was offense.
"Accio Wand!" Harry's wand flew to her, she grabbed and pointed it at Ron. "Now, if you think," she was glaring at Ron, "this time you'll get away with it you're sadly mistaken, Ronald Weasley. My family didn't do anything to you and my son..." She choked on her words and commanded the tears at the back of her eyes to make a quick retreat. Ron was staring at her not with the hatred she expected, instead there was...No! She had forgiven Harry, Ginny, the whole wizarding world, but not him! Not ever! In the few seconds it took her to take hold of her emotions Ron managed to speak for the first time.
"A son, you have a son." Ron barely whispered as he gave Harry an accusatory gaze. "How old is he?" Ron asked Hermione softly.
"What business is it of yours! What difference does it make? You want revenge and you don't care who gets hurt!" Her hand trembled. A tight grip on the hand holding the wand diverted her attention back to a pair of sizzling green eyes.
"And acting like a raving lunatic helps John Albus how?" Harry questioned her.
Harry stepped aside. Furious he said to the two wizards facing each other, "I said I won't interfere or take sides. Call each other every foul name you can think of! Hex each other, hell Crucio each other till you both are but a mass of broken bones and flesh! Get it out of your system but you," he pointed at Hermione, "have a son to think of, parents, a future here or with us, I don't care!" And you, he then turned to Ron. "You'd better have nothing to do with this. You said you wanted to talk to her, do it and then forget you ever met Hermione Granger. It's over! Done! I'm done!"
The walls and floor of the small flat vibrated as Harry slammed the door on his way out. Hermione could feel a tiny smile tingling on her lips. Harry Potter had had it with his two pig headed, infantile friends. He threatened Ron, almost accused him of having something to do with the article! Who would've thought it'd ever happen? Harry leaving Ron to fend for himself! As her eyes met Ron's some of her fury resurfaced only this time she summoned the level headed, pragmatic self she knew dwelled in her and for the first time since Ron barged into her sanctuary she looked at him. She pierced him with her brown, inquisitive orbs.
He kept his hand at his sides, wasn't fidgeting on his spot. Legs spread as if he was ready to fight and yet... He was hurt and he was angry but there was no scorn in his eyes. She realized he had said very little and kept his gaze on her. He stormed in, that was true, but there were no shouts or insults or demands. In spite of his size and build Hermione noticed she wasn't intimidated by him, not that she ever was but this Ron Weasley wasn't the same hateful wizard she remembered, the one she expected to come back one day and pick up where he left off. And for the first time, he appeared to be waiting for her to speak and she had but one thing to say.
"Why?" she asked
Ron softened his stance. "I could ask you the same question you know?" The almost teasing, hurting glint in his eyes threw her off but now wasn't the time to drop her defenses. She was still waiting for the crass insults, the screams and the threats.
"Ron, just answer my question and get out. Why did you do it?" She threw her hands in the air. "You won! I left and I have no plans of coming back. What more do you want?"
He just stood there, calm and composed. His expression one of concentration, the way she remembered Ron as he planned his next move in a game of chess. She tightened her fingers on Harry's wand. The realization he had left without it distracted her for a few moments. Did he forget or was it on purpose? She found Ron's gaze on the wand in her possession.
"You won't need it." He nodded his head to it. "I don't know why I'm here, Hermione." he answered her previous question.
He took a couple of steps back and leaned on the door. In a gesture she found too intimate and unexpected he sat on the floor, brought his knees up and circled them with his arms. He sat there, lost in his own thoughts.
"Ron, either tell me what you want or get out." The almost normal tone in her voice bothered her. She could feel the angry warmth on her face, the fast beating of her heart, the fear and disgust Ron provoked in her but like the master chess player he was, Ron had made a move she had no counter attack for which meant only one thing: she might lose the game.
"When my mother treats me like I'm about to strike her, or my brother feels the need to warn me off my parents or my best friend thinks the worse of me and, the woman I once loved could think I could hurt a child and points a wand at me with murder on her eyes, makes me wonder what kind of man I've become." Lifting his gaze Ron met a bewildered Hermione.
She undid her ponytail, twisted and turned her curls into a bun which she secured with Harry's wand and in an act of frustration she laced her fingers on top of her hair, closed her eyes and looked up to the ceiling. Was God testing her or was He trying to prove a point? First, Sebastian now, Ron and for dessert, Draco. She felt like screaming! Whirlwind, roller coaster, rushed, exhilarating, challenging, happy, sad, all words which could describe her life for the past three weeks. Her past came down on her like a ton of bricks, her present kept changing, making her spin around like a blind person trying to find the way out of an intricate maze, and her future, well! Her future depended pretty much on her choices and right now she was debating what to do with Ronald Weasley.
"Ron, all I want and demand from you is a bloody answer. What the hell are you doing here? And, do you or don't you have something to do with that article? If you can't or won't answer me then goodbye. In ten minutes I'm needed downstairs." Arms folded angrily over her chest, Hermione found her eyes meeting with Ron's. He pushed himself up, Hermione stepped back.
Ron's hands slid into his pants' pockets and faced Hermione once again. "I saw the picture of you and Malfoy and at first...I lost it. Charlie took care of it." The silly, shy grin on his face painted a picture Hermione had no problems visualizing. "I stopped by The Burrow..." Ron's pained expression almost reached Hermione's heart, almost. She wondered about the conversation between mother and son. Ron continued. "She loves you, Hermione and Harry, he will Crucio me if I ever hurt you again and I won't."
"You won't hurt me." Hermione said bitterly. "That's nice, three years too late but nice nonetheless." The venom in her words tasted like nectar to her. "Now, back to what interests me the most. Keep away from me. Tell your accomplices at the Daily Prophet this time I'll fight them word from word. I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a fucking heroine in case you've forgotten. I may have enemies in your world but I'm sure I have friends too. I'll stop at nothing if you come after my family, nothing, you understand, Ron?"
"Does your family include Malfoy?" Now, that was the Ron she remembered!
"Did you understand what I said? Shall I translate it for you?" She wasn't falling for his trap. "I will kill anyone who dares hurt my family. You have magic and I have much more. It is a threat and I intend to see it through."
Resolute and tired of the fruitless exchange, Hermione jerked the door open. "Now get out. Go cry to mummy or Harry or whoever gives a fuck about poor Ronald Weasley. Get out of my world, go back to yours and forget that I ever existed."
Ron dragged his feet to the landing at the top of the stairs. "You haven't heard a word I said, Hermione."
"I'm giving you the same courtesy you gave me three years ago. Goodbye, Ron." She didn't wait for an answer, she shut the door on his face.
A/N: Thanks to Liz for her help. To my beta Indie, it's always fun when you are around. You are the best, most generous beta in fanfiction.
Those of you who expected either a quick reconciliation between Hermione and Ron or an all out Ron bashing, sorry to disappoint. It's not over though, Ron will be back. Those who leave a comment shall have the promised snippet from next chapter. Keep in mind though that if you don't have an account with this site I can't email it to you nor can I answer your reviews, so I would suggest as you write your review let me know your email address. I have a Yahoo! email address; elenapanam is the id at ...dot...you know the rest.
I'm going away for three weeks to visit my family in Panamá (Central America). Next update is going to take a long while. The snippet will have to wait until I come back. Hugs to all.