Friday felt much longer than it had actually been. The entire week felt longer than it had actually been. Five o'clock finally rolled around and finally allowed Hermione freedom for the weekend. She loved her job. She loved working on creating house-elf rights, but today she needed a break.
Hermione's freedom brought her to Grimmauld Place where she sat with her best friend, Harry, while watching his godson, Teddy play on the sitting room floor. Ron stayed late at work to assist in finishing up a case. Ginny had a late practice. Harry lay sprawled out on the couch lazily flipping page in a Quidditch magazine. Hermione sat properly in an armchair with a new book, Ministry of Magic, A History, open in her lap, but she was not reading.
"That must be Andromeda," Harry stood up at the sound of a knock on the door.
Hermione closed her book and placed it in her beaded bag. She'd get back to it when she could her mind on it and not other things.
"Gwan!" Teddy jumped up and hugged his grandmother when she entered the room.
Andromeda picked Teddy up and gave him a big squeeze as well as a gentle kiss on the cheek.
"You had fun with Harry, did you?" She sat on the couch placing Teddy in her lap. "You attended your first Quidditch match, slept in a grown-up bed, and I hear you met a new friend."
"Baby," Teddy responded.
"Yes, a baby. Do you remember her name?"
"Victa!"
Hermione smiled. She visited the new parents on her lunch hour that day. She wanted Ron to come with her, but he claimed to have made lunch plans with Neville already. He was always running off with someone else. He never seemed to have time for her anymore. Taking a deep breath, she brought herself back to the present.
"Have your stuff together, do you, Teddy?"
"Yes," he replied looking at his toys on the floor.
"Stay for dinner, won't you?" Harry asked, having sat next to them on the couch.
"Yes, yes, alright."
Hermione smiled. She knew Harry would not take no for an answer. She stopped smiling when she heard noise from downstairs not associated with Kreacher.
"I'm home!" Ron's voice rang out from the basement.
On one hand, Hermione wanted to see him. On the other hand, she didn't. She loved him, but every time they got together things ended up in a row. It was very contradictory.
"Hello, Hermione." Ron walked into the room still wearing his Ministry robes.
Hermione looked at Ron, his face filled with more freckles due to spending more time outside dealing with his Auror duties. No mater the situation looking into his eyes still ran a tingly feeling up her spine.
"Good evening, Ron," Andromeda greeted the redheaded boy.
"Good evening," he replied. "Kreacher says dinner will be ready in five minutes and he'll iron his hands if it takes longer."
"You did tell he didn't have to?" Judging by the look on Ron's face Hermione knew the answer. "You don't treat him like a slave, do you?" She grunted in disgust.
"How do you know that isn't what he wants?" Ron retorted.
"Would you like to be treated like a slave?"
Harry jumped up.
"Stop it!" He shouted.
Hermione blinked not realizing how loud she had gotten.
"Let's go downstairs. I'm sure Kreacher's finishing up."
--
Things began to get steadily worse from there. Hermione barely saw Ron at work. They hadn't kept up with their weekly lunch ritual. When she did see Ron he was either with Iva or in some mood that would cause a row. The two had their rows, but whenever she looked into his face she'd want to stop. Pride told her no and lately pride spoke louder than love.
"Harry has the tickets for our match against Montrose tomorrow," Ginny said to Hermione one Friday evening in the summer.
They both sat in the sitting room of their flat reading. Ginny flipped through a copy of The Daily Prophet and Hermione was still trying to get through Ministry of Magic, A History. It was a great read, but she was either getting interrupted to do something for work or her thoughts would stray.
Ginny tossed aside the newspaper and stretched.
"Harry has the tickets," she repeated. "He'll come by to pick you up about ten. I'm heading to bed." She turned and exited the room.
Hermione closed her book. She wouldn't finish it tonight. Rising from her spot she folded the newspaper and placed it on the table.
"Aurors Hot on the Trail of Fenrir Greyback," she red. She'd have to ask Harry—or—or, she'd ask Harry about it. She desperately wanted the werewolf captured. It was people like him who gave werewolves such a bad name. She put the newspaper down and went to bed herself.
Lying in bed did not mean she went to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes her mind filled with Ron's face. How did things get so weird? She still loved him. She still cared for him. A tear slid down her face. Crookshanks hopped up on her bed and rubbed his back against her stomach.
--
"Go Harpies!" Hermione shouted with both hands cupped over her mouth. She had recently bought dark green robes and proudly wore them in support of her best female friend.
The match had been on for ten minutes. The Montrose Magpies already scored twice. Their Beaters were good at keeping the Quaffle out of the hands of the Holyhead Chasers.
Harry gripped her hand tightly as a Bludger grazed Ginny's left shoulder knocking her off-kilter for a short moment. These matches, no matter how much he liked to watch them, were stressful times for Harry. She sent him a smile of sympathy an in doing so received a slight dirty look from Ron.
She didn't let it bother her. Ron became jealous so easily, especially when it concerned her.
"Foul!" Ron cried when a Bludger hit Ginny square in the shoulder knocking her back on her broom and causing her to drop the Quaffle.
"That wasn't intentional," Hermione said trying to suppress Ron's anger and calm Harry at the same time.
"Wasn't intentional? He aimed for her head, he did. Luckily she moved out of the way!" Ron shouted.
Hermione gently squeezed Harry's sweaty hand before replying, "Not every time someone gets hit with a Bludger is a foul!"
"What do you know about Quidditch?"
"Enough!"
Ron made to protest, but Harry raised a hand to silence him.
"Ron, they didn't call it a foul so it's not a foul." Before Ron could protest he continued. "Hermione, it did appear as if he was aiming for Ginny."
Hermione grunted.
"You don't believe that, do you?" Ron exclaimed. "You think everything's so perfect in your little world that no one intentionally sends Bludgers at others."
"No!"
"Ginny scored a goal!" Harry tried to divert their attention. "Go Ginny!"
Hermione stamped her foot.
"Don't have a fit because you know you're wrong."
Harry threw both hands in the air.
"Have at it. I'm not your keeper. If you want to slit each other's throats, go ahead."
"Ronald Weasley," Hermione shouted. "Ronald Weasley," she went no further.
"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow. "I thought so."
Ron made Hermione so mad her blood boiled. She just wanted to, she just wanted to… She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the remainder of the Quidditch match.
Finally, it was over. The Holyhead Harpies Seeker caught the Snitch and they won 300-180. Hermione could finally go home and escape this.
"'M going to see Ginny." Harry left his two friends and headed to the bottom of the pitch.
"We need to talk," Ron said slowly as the crowd around them dispersed.
Hermione bit her lip. Those were not good words.
"We're not doing so well together," he stated. "I still love you. I reckon I always will. But, I don't love this." He moved his hand back and forth.
"We always argue."
"It's gotten worse. You can't deny that." He paused. "I—I—" He swallowed. "We need to take a break."
If Hermione had not been sitting down she would have fallen over. Oh, wait, she wasn't. Feeling dizzy, she sat down.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I think it's for the best."
Ginny and Harry joined them after Ginny showered and changed.
"I want to go home," Hermione announced trying not to let the tears fall.
"We're going out to celebrate," Ginny replied, shocked at Hermione's appearance.
"I just want to go home."
"I'll take her home," Ginny said.
"No, no, this is your victory, this is your team," Harry protested. "I'll take her home."
"You should celebrate with your fiancé, Harry. I'm a big girl. I can take myself home."
Ginny and Harry glanced at Ron to see if he would protest.
Ginny leaned close to Hermione. "Are you all right?"
Hermione shook her head a tear breaking free. "We'll talk after your celebration."
"Come with us."
"I'm not in the mood. I'm sorry."
Ginny hugged Hermione.
--
Hermione ended up Disapparating outside the stadium. When she arrived at her flat she made herself a cup of tea and sat on the couch with Crookshanks. She didn't want to cry though the tears threatened to fall. She was not going to cry over Ron. She just could not believe their relationship ended.
Hermione looked up when she heard the door open.
"You need to talk," Ginny said bluntly.
"How was the celebration?"
"Forget that," Ginny sat on the couch, putting her arm around Hermione and almost knocking over her tea, "we need to talk about Ron. Why didn't you tell me the prat broke up with you?"
"He didn't really break up with me. He just said we need to take a break."
"Same thing. Ron loves you or at least I thought he did so what in the name of Merlin could possess him to break up with you?"
"I—I don't—we argued loudly at the match. Every time we see each other we argue. I reckon he felt it time to end things."
"You've always been that way. That's Ron and Hermione."
Hermione sighed. They had always acted that way. Maybe it didn't mean true love. Maybe it did mean they didn't belong together. She let a tear run down her cheek. Many more followed until she found her face smashed into Ginny's shoulder.
--
Hermione managed to avoid Ron at work. She started arriving fifteen minutes early knowing full well Ron wouldn't floo in until around 7:55. She did her best to leave promptly at five. Ron, being an Auror Trainee, could never be predictable about leaving so she knew she'd have very little chance of seeing him.
As much as she didn't want to admit it, not seeing Ron was hurting. She'd arrive at her desk in the morning, close the door, and cry. She had no heart in her work anymore. S.P.E.W. had been put on hold. Her life was falling apart. She'd give anything to go back to Hogwarts days, back when she saw her friends everyday, back when she and Ron were talking…
"Granger?! Granger!" Richards waved his hand in front of her face. "I've been calling you—are you crying?" He interrupted himself when she lifted her head.
"I—I—" she wiped her eyes. She'd been doing this for a month and had yet to be caught at work. "I'm all right."
"Quigley wants the report on his desk before you go to lunch." Richards stepped out the door and turned around. "If you need someone to talk to you know my office is right next door."
Hermione slowly dropped her head on her desk. She was only half done with the report on house-elf living conditions. Anyone who knew her from school would be appalled. Actually, appalled was too tame a word.
She had the research. She did all the work. She just had to turn it into the second half of her report. The report due by noon, which was when her boss took his lunch break, which was in…
"Two hours!" She exclaimed, checking the clock on the wall. She took a deep breath, reassuring herself she could get it down. It might not be her best report, but it would be a finished report.
She ran out of her office at 12:01, clutching the parchment in her right hand.
"Here you go, Mr. Quigley." She placed the report on his desk.
He picked it up and scanned it.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. I expect this to be a good read." He nodded, which meant she was free to leave.
Stepping into the hallway, her stomach growled. Not having any plans for lunch, Hermione decided to stop by the Leaky Cauldron and see what Hannah Abbott was up to. She patted the pocket of her robes making sure she had gold and her wand. Quickly, she made her way to a lift and up to the Atrium.
She stepped past the grill, but came to an abrupt stop before passing the gate. She spied the familiar redhead at a fireplace. He turned to the dark haired woman beside him, laughing. How could he be so happy when she was so hurt and how could he be so happy with a woman? She waited for them to disappear in the floo before making her appearance.
Immediately she made her way to a fire on the right, grabbed a pinch of powder, threw it into the flames, and as she stepped into the flames shouted "The L-Leaky Cauld-d-dron!"
Arriving in the pub's fireplace she looked around for the blonde hair of the Hufflepuff pub maid.
"Hermione!" she heard a deep, gruff voice call.
"Hagrid!" She hurriedly made her way to her old friend from Hogwarts.
"How are yeh? Harry? Ginny? Ron?" Hermione tried not to show anything but failed. "Summit's goin' on wit' yeh an' Ron?"
Hermione sat down in the empty chair at the round table not sure if she wanted to speak.
"Hermione, summit's botherin' yeh."
"Yeah." Hermione sighed. "I love Ron and he said he loved me, but, but, why'd he break up with me?"
"Ron broke up wit' yeh?"
She nodded.
"He broke up with yeh, the smartest witch o' her year?"
"Yes." Hermione swallowed.
"Are you all right, Hermione?" Hannah, ready to take her order, appeared at the table.
"No," she admitted. "I never thought I'd be one to cry over a boy, but Ron…broke my heart."
Hannah looked at Hagrid for an answer.
"Do you care for anything? We have a special on chicken stew."
"Th-that's fine." She looked up at Hannah. "And a butterbeer."
Hermione, I believe yeh an' Ron are meant ta be. I do," Hagrid said after Hannah retreated. He gulped his firewhiskey and continued. "I witnessed how yeh acted as kids an' I know wha' I saw."
Hermione shook her head.
"I don't know anymore."
"I do."
Hermione looked behind her to see Harry and Neville approach them.
"How are you doing?" Harry asked his best friend. Ever since her break up with Ron they had not seen much of each other.
"Brilliant," she lied.
"No, you're not." Harry sat next to her with Neville on the other side.
"I am!…not," she admitted. "It's been, what, a month. I should be okay."
"No one can predict how or when we heal," Neville said.
"Ron isn't doing so well himself."
"Wha—bu—I saw him today, laughing with another woman!"
"She had dark hair, did she?" Hermione nodded. "She's his trainer, Iva. Trust me, behind the façade of laughter, he's feeling pain like you."
"Here's your stew." Hannah arrived, placing a bowl of steaming hot chicken stew and a mug of butterbeer in front of Hermione. "Good afternoon, Harry. H-hello, Neville. Can I get your boys anything?"
Harry eyed the bowl.
"The chicken stew looks good. I'll have that and a butterbeer," he replied.
"Same," said Neville.
Hannah smiled at Neville and headed back to the kitchen.
"Is something going on between you and Hannah?" Hermione asked.
"N-no," Neville replied nervously.
"Hannah's a pretty girl," Hagrid said.
"Yeah…," Neville responded.
"You fancy Hannah!" Hermione said causing Neville to blush. Not wanting to embarrass him further she went on. "Harry, you're not just saying that to make me feel better.
"No. Honest, I'm not. Ron tries to act brave, but it's a cover-up. He's hurt, I can see it all over his face and he misses you. He won't admit it. He isn't the same Ron. The Chudley Cannons only lost their last match by ten points and he didn't even care!"
"I—I don't know," she sipped her stew.
--
A few days later, the unavoidable happened.
"Need some help, do you?" Richards asked, watching Hermione grab piles of books and parchment off her desk.
She sighed. She could not believe she left her beaded bag at home. She knew exactly where it was, strap hung across her desk chair. The one day she brings home a pile of stuff, she leaves the bag at home.
"I have it." Hermione juggled the books as a piece of parchment fluttered to the floor.
"You sure? I don't mind helping you." Richards sounded overanxious.
Hermione shook her head. Lifting her leg to balance the books, she closed the door, pulled out her wand, and locked her office.
Struggling she made it into the lift and out of the lift. Stepping into the Atrium that same parchment fluttered away from her. Watching it fall, she never noticed the person step in front of her. She quickly found herself on the floor, books and parchment scattered around her.
"Hermione!" He reached out a hand to help her up.
"Ron!" She reached out to let him help her, her fingers tingling at the touch.
"Where's your beaded bag?" He asked reaching for the books she dropped.
"Bad day for me to leave it at home." Taking the books from Ron she said, "You don't have to do that."
"I don't mind. How are you?"
"Busy. I've to rewrite this report on house-elf living conditions."
"Oh." Ron stood rooted to the spot. "You're brilliant with that stuff."
"It doesn't seem like it anymore."
"Are you really okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
She thought she heard him say "I'm not," but she couldn't be sure.
"Well, I reckon I'll be seeing you. Bye, Hermione."
They both headed toward separate fires. Before flooing, she turned to Ron disappear in the flames.
"I'm not, either."
--
As luck would have it, she saw Ron three more times that month. The first time they locked eyes, but didn't speak. The second time they shared a lift to their respective floors. The third time he happened to mention he, Harry, and Neville were going to be tested soon.
"Good luck."
"Thanks."
Going their separate ways, Hermione glanced back to see Ron glancing back at her. She sent him a smile before turning back around.
--
"Hermione, are you putting on makeup?" Ginny asked as she passed her roommate's loo one morning.
"Mascara and lipstick," she admitted.
"I've, er, I've never seen you do something like this, aside from balls and those things."
"Well, it's my birthday."
"That's right. Happy birthday!"
"Thanks." She smacked her lips together. "How do I look?"
"Too much lipstick." Ginny waved her wand saying some spell Hermione never heard before. "Perfect."
Hermione stepped into the Atrium ready to join the hustle and bustle of the other wizards. She spotted Harry who smiled and waved at her.
"Happy birthday," he greeted as they headed to the lifts together. Carefully, he slipped a package into her hand.
She opened the package to reveal a leather wand case.
"Thank you."
She placed it in her beaded bag.
Her office held the bigger surprise. Her fellow employees wore expressions saying something was up, but they wouldn't speak. Opening the door to her office she spotted the bouquet of roses.
"There must be a dozen!" She counted. "No, eight." She made a face. "Did anyone take a rose?" She called out the door.
"Read the card!" A woman's voice shouted back.
Hermione pulled the card out.
Happy birthday!
I'm a prat. You may never forgive me I understand. For your birthday I give you eight roses for the eight years we've known each other. I hope the bouquet grows. Seven of these roses are pink representing seven years of friendship. The red rose in the middle is for the year we were together as a couple. I still love you. If you forgive me meet me in the Atrium at noon for lunch.
Love,
Ron Weasley
A tear slid down her cheek. Was this her Ron? No way he could do something this romantic.
The time between eight and twelve went by slowly. Hermione believed time even went backwards.
She still loved Ron; she knew that. Could she forgive him, forgive him for so easily dissolving their relationship? She wanted to say no, but then she'd see the roses and she knew her answer.
Finally the clock struck twelve. Hermione threw her quill down, grabbed her bag, and stepped out of her office.
"I'm off to lunch," she shouted to whomever would hear.
She practically flew to the lift. The lift took forever to arrive at the Atrium. It went so slow she was afraid he would not think she was coming.
Stepping off the lift and past the gate, she saw him leaning against the memorial, holding something in his hand, looking down at the floor. Quietly and quickly she walked over to him. He didn't see her so she cleared her throat causing him to jump backwards.
"Don't do that again!" He exclaimed. A smile spread across his face. "You came."
"Yeah." A smile spread across her face.
"Y-you forgive me?"
"Maybe."
"I am sorry. I was a prat—a git—whatever you want to call me. I was stupid, but we were arguing all the time."
"We always argue," Hermione admitted.
"Promise me we won't argue again?"
"I can't. It's who we are." She looked at the flower in Ron's hand. "Thanks for the roses. You came up with that yourself?"
"You know me."
"I do. Who helped you?"
"Fleur. Victoire's getting so big."
"She's four months." Hermione motioned toward the flower.
"Oh! Start over?"
"What?"
"Would you like to start our relationship over?"
"No, we can't erase the past." She paused. "But, I would like to start again.
The smile on Ron's face grew bigger. He handed the rosebud to Hermione.
"The bouquet in your office represents the past. This bud represents the future. Like the rosebud it is new and yet to unfold."
Tears started to fall from Hermione's eyes. This was so beautiful. Ron put his hands on her face, leaned down, and kissed her, open mouthed.