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Hermione's Paris Flat (3); 2004

When Ron knocked on her door a day later, he was not red in the face, hardly able to contain his anger as she assumed he'd be. Instead, he held aloft her favorite take-out from London, smiling softly at her.

"Can I come in?" He asked, even though she'd invited him.

"Why the food all the way across the Pond?" Hermione asked, though her mouth watered. Maybe he had no idea what had happened. Maybe she could just brush it under the table!

"Er...well…"

"You've heard," Hermione sighed flatly.

"Heard. And seen. George." Ron answered in quick quips, "Blimey, I feel awful."

"What?" Hermione nearly dropped her take-out box, "You do?"

"Sure," Ron nodded earnestly, "I didn't even think that at an engagement party it might come down on us...erm, you. Never ever considered."

"So, you weren't faking work to avoid awkward conversations?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"No, Great Hippogriffs, no!" Ron's eyes widened, "Why would you think that? I told you that I got handed a last-minute case, and I had to-,"

"Right, I know that's what you said, but you left me there. You never showed up," The embarrassment and frustration about his nagging family bubbled up, her own anger rising to the surface, "And well, I just thought-,"

"Bloody hell, 'Mione," Ron said, his voice tinged with hurt, "I'm not that much of a prick. And why would you believe I'm lying?"

"It just made sense at the time," Hermione sighed, wishing to put the matter away, "Let's eat, okay?"

"Fine," Ron said, but she could tell she'd bruised his feelings a tad, "Where are your forks? I don't even know where my own girlfriend stores her forks…" He muttered, starting to rustle through the drawers. All of her relief was washing away rapidly. It seemed that whenever they were together, she said something or he did and they both deflected and got snippy in response, like this.

If she were more mature or had felt some sort of resolution to her admittance that she thought he'd found work on purpose, she might have let it go. But now she was wired in all of her annoyance about Ron and knew it was probably going to start a fight, but she couldn't help it.

"If you came more often," She hissed as she jerked open a drawer, "This wouldn't be an issue."

Ron laughed, though it was unkind, "Oh, right, sure. Let me just travel internationally every other day. I won't get fired for improper use of International Floo Powder, nor would I spent hours upon hours waiting in customs lines."

"I come to see you every other weekend! Or, well, the weekends I am free," Hermione snapped. Sure, it wasn't without fail every second week, but she surely made a bigger effort than he was.

"Oh, such a saint," Ron hissed, "You know, if you didn't insist on going here, away from me, we wouldn't be here!"

"You were offered a training position at the French Ministry here, so you had the choice to follow me!" Hermione said, close to tears or yelling again, "But no, you didn't want to leave your work friends or your family or anyone for your own girlfriend."

"My family is still around, sue me. You seem intent on running away from everyone who ever cared for you! Who do you have here in Paris, huh? No one! Not one person who loves you is here!" Ron threw his arms out, "And for what?"

Hermione didn't want to admit some part of him was right, so she poked a different angle, "So I'm just supposed to throw away my wants for you?"

"That's what couples do! They sacrifice their own desires for-"

"They don't! You don't! You never have sacrificed anything for me!" Hermione slammed down her takeaway box and it splattered all over her hands and down her jumper. She stood back, biting her lip to keep from crying, and sniffled. Ron was staring with wide eyes, unable to say more as he watched the sauce drip down her counters.

"I'm...going to go and...clean up," Hermione mumbled, all but running into her bathroom. She could have cleaned at her sink, but she needed a moment to collect herself.

Ron usually didn't let pausing in arguments, his opinion that you needed to get everything out in the open when it happened, not later, so usually he followed her until they'd spent their fights. Not now.

If she knew she hadn't heard the door open, she would have thought he'd left. So he was still here. Suspiciously quiet.

Perhaps, she thought as she ran the warm water with a bit too much hope, she'd gotten through to him this time?

Her wand was on the kitchen table so it wasn't with her, so Hermione couldn't be sure how long she spent in the bathroom. All she did know is it was longer than it would take the average person to clean up. But she needed to calm down, and perhaps Ron needed a bit as well. She always kept a healthy stack of quality books in the loo, so she balled her stained sweater and wrung it in water before settling down to read two chapters in her newest addiction.

By the time she put the bookmark carefully leafed between the pages, she felt much better. She was ready to go out and apologize or to talk through this issue logically. She always was fired up at the moment, and often was unable to articulate everything right then, but if given time to think, she could usually fix things. Ron rarely gave her a pause, so it seemed he won most fights, though she knew this was skewed by how damningly brilliant he was and how his anger helped his debate, instead of leaving him tongue-tied.

In her head, as she unlocked the door, she had a whole list of things they probably should go through, and maybe they'd have some average make-up sex when it was all said and done.

As she walked into the living room, he was sitting on her couch, his face still twisted in fury.

"Ron-,"

"I found the fucking list, Hermione."

His voice was curt, deeply hurt, and barely containing his anger. Hermione's entire body went cold. The first thought she had was what right did he have to be digging through her rubbish like that, though he could have just been tossing the broken containers. But still, it would have taken diving through.

It didn't really matter, though, did it? What could she possibly say that would make this alright, that wouldn't have Ron looking at her like such a villain. But maybe she was?

Hermione sat quickly, inhaling hard, "Ron, about the list, you have to realize…" She started quietly, unsure how she was going to spin this, or why she was going to keep lying, but her lips were not her own.

"Of all the people, 'Mione," Ron said, close to tears, "One of my best mates, are you fucking serious?"

Hermione startled, "I...I didn't know you two were that close." Or, at least, not anymore. Sure, maybe Ron had considered Theo a good friend during their repeat year, but now? This was news to her and came with just as much whiplash as the first time. But no, that couldn't be right, Theo practically hated Ron...so he'd said. So that meant-

"Don't start, don't be like that," Ron wiped his eyes, "Don't play so stupid. You thought you would get away with it, huh? That I wouldn't...find out…"

She knew she'd hurt him, immensely. All of her confusion about their friend-not-friend status vanished as she stared at his face. Even a quick kiss was enough to cause anyone pain. And blimey! Maybe Ron saw he and Theo closer than they actually were, and that would be a second kick in the gut if that were the case.

"Well, you see, The-," Hermione began, but Ron was waving her away, not wanting to hear any of it.

"I'm going to murder Seamus, honest!"

Hermione stopped dead, "Seamus?" She echoed in confusion.

"Is that how you say his name in bed?" Ron snarled, "Is that how he likes it?"

"No, wait, Seamus?" Hermione insisted, wracking her mind about how Ron could have misread Seamus' name on the list when it said 'Theo'. Maybe Hannah enchanted it? Why would she not just get rid of all of it, if that were the case…

"You seem to have lost your memory," Ron threw a folded parchment at her, "I was trying to be nice and get you another jumper. Found it in the bottom drawer," He said bitterly, locking his jaw and staring away from her.

Hermione unfurled it and wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry.

"Ron, oh, Ron! This is just a misunderstanding. This isn't what you think," She said, relief ebbing through her. He had found a list, sure, but not THE list. And this, despite what he assumed, was completely innocent in nature.

"Don't insult my intelligence," Ron thundered, swishing his finger about like he was orchestrating a very elaborate concerto, "And tell me that I'm too dumb to realize what this obvious is."

Hermione bit her tongue, "Ron, seriously, it's…" Hermione huffed, unsure how to truly make him see that he was overreacting...at least to this.

"It's very obviously a bucket list of your illicit meetings," Ron said, nudging the paper as though it was made of slime, "And you were part of it. Down there."

She could see, she supposed, why he might have this reaction.

Here's how the backstory to this one went. A year and a half ago, she and Seamus ended up as the only magical folk under the age of 25 at a secondary education facility in Ireland. Hermione was trying to hoard as many credits as she could find, Seamus wasn't sure what he wanted to do and had found that he enjoyed school in its last legs, so decided to continue on. In their Muggle dorm rooms, they had a TV.

They both ended up also working at a local inn - Hermione at the Front Desk where she could study and Seamus working as a bartender. Their shift got done around the same time at 11:30. Because it was dreadfully boring except for their new friendship, they'd often rent a Muggle film and go back to one or the other's dorm and view it together.

And, on their third movie, Seamus had laughed.

"Why are all the movies we're watching sound like a bad porno, but aren't?" He'd questioned. Their movie watching list had consisted of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Freddie got Fingered, and Fire Down Below.

They'd been young and drunk but this had humored them to no end, so they'd started the 'Sexual Movie Club' as a joke and vowed to only watch movies with inappropriate sounding titles for the remainder of the summer.

The funny thing is that Hermione had never been attracted to Seamus and vice versa. They'd in fact talked about the fact that while she was a bird and he was a man, neither held any feelings toward each other other than platonic mutual enjoyment. They would watch movies on the opposite side of the couch, not even close to touching at all, and usually would spend a great deal of time talking about their significant others. Hermione got the guy's perspective on her frustrations with Ron, Seamus got the girls' perspective on his pickup lines he was using at the local pubs.

The list in Ron's hand was possible titles that Seamus had researched by spending an inordinate amount of time annoying the movie rental employees by wandering up and down the aisles to complies this:

Dirty Dancing

Octopussy

Free Willy

Big Daddy

Dirty Harry

All Night Long

Tit for Tat Dick

Spanking the Monkey

He'd passed this to her on his way down. They were able to pass notes often, as the liquor storerooms were behind the front desk.

On it, he'd asked, "Midnight tonight?"

Hermione had replied, "Yeah! I'm really looking forward to Dirty Dancing."

She explained this to Ron.

"Convenient I'm only now hearing about it," Ron said with deep distrust.

"Because you never asked me," Hermione huffed. Ron, when he called, always rambled on about his own day but rarely asked Hermione at her's. She hadn't found it necessary to mention it if he didn't seem interested.

"You were studying at some boring uni! I didn't think you'd be doing anything fun!" Ron sputtered, "Stop changing the subject. And it's also convenient that all of these titles sound bad, huh?"

Hermione wanted to pull her hair out, "That's the joke, Ronald."

"I don't believe it! I mean, nothing good happens past midnight, with a man no less!" Ron continued, "And I think this is just a way to cover your tracks, in situations like that. Where's the rest. You must have magically erased more," He started turning the paper over.

"I did not sleep with Seamus, Ron! Stop," She ripped the paper from his fingers, "You are reading between imaginary lines. You are making up a fantasy that isn't there." She stressed.

"So you're seriously telling me you never slept with Seamus?" Ron said, scowling and pouting.

"No, of course not," Hermione nearly gagged at the thought. She hoped she'd swayed him.

"Bullshit," Ron said, digging his heels in and shaking his head. There was a pause where Hermione was staring, unsure other than summoning Seamus how to convince him, when Ron stood, "Let me use Legilimency."

Hermione sputtered, "What?"

"You heard me. So you can prove it."

"Absolutely not, you're insane," Hermione's eyes widened, "You don't know how to cast it and it could go horribly wrong," She said, "Not to mention there's no way to just look at the memories from that summer. You could look anywhere," She glared him down, "There's a reason it's considered an invasion of privacy."

Ron stood his ground, "Well if there's nothing hiding, you shouldn't be worried."

Hermione wasn't even thinking of her feelings for Nott, not even considering that he could reveal something actually damming. No, she was reeling from the arrogance that Ron considered this to be a reasonable request. "No! There are some things that I have the right to think about without any judgment or don't want someone poking around! There are some memories that are just for me."

"Sounds like a confession about a romance with Seamus," Ron said. Now that he had the idea, he was never going to let it go, she knew this in her gut. If adjectives truly were middle names, Ron's would be 'stubborn'.

"No."

"Then let's grab some veritaserum. I don't care how it gets done."

"Once again," Hermione was shaking with so much anger, "No! Both of those options are awful and unhealthy and I can't believe you think it's okay!" Yes, yes, she recognized the hypocrisy of this. She was a bad girlfriend for kissing Not, for wanting him. But Ron was crossing so many lines right now, demanding such incredibly invasive things to make it 'better'.

"Then...then I forbid you from ever talking with Seamus ever again!" Ron finally said.

Hermione's tone was icy, "Oh, you forbid me?"

Ron's face seemed to show he recognized perhaps he'd crossed a line, but it vanished away with a gulp, and she could practically see him rewriting his brain so he was the one right, "Yeah...yeah! You heard me."

Hermione just stared him down, heart beating, "Seamus is one of my close friends." She didn't physically see him, but they sent owls, often, "And I…" She didn't want to admit it, but other than Hannah (who was busy with her own life), she often felt very friendless. She couldn't lose Seamus, a genuine companion. At this moment, she had to ask herself...why did she have so few friends? Sure, she knew she was a bit anti-social, but where had all her comrades from school gone? Before she could examine this further, Ron forced a question.

"So you refuse?" Ron asked.

Hermione just stared at him, unsure how to respond. Apparently, she needed not to answer, for Ron had made up his mind.

Ron stared at her for a few moments, cursing, before he turned and stalked away. The memory of the door slamming resounded in the apartment long after the sound was gone.