Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.
As always, huge thank you to the best hype team: be11atrixthestrange, sm_jl, accio-broom, and adenei.
I appreciate you all for the lovely comments. Happy Saturday!
Sweet Home Ottery
Chapter Five
In your eyes
I see the hurt that you're not telling me tonight
And you're not sure if you still have the fight
To make it through this darkness
To heal this broken heart that keeps you far from home
Let me save you, let me take you
To a place where you can breathe again
A place where you can smile
Let me save you, let me take you
To a place where all the tears will end
And you won't have to hide
When the waves start crashing down
And the world just gets too loud
When you're reaching out
I'll never let you drown
When the storms don't seem to end
I'll be there to pull you in
When you're reaching out
I'll never let you drown
Drown - Mokita
11 years ago
"Ron, where are we going?"
"Just trust me, Hermione."
"That'd be much easier to do if you weren't leading me down a darkened path. I can't see a thing!"
"You don't honestly believe I'd let anything bad happen to you, d'ya?"
"Well, no."
"Good. 'Cause if so, that'd be a bigger issue."
Hermione wasn't quite sure what to expect when Ron had asked her to sneak out of The Burrow in the middle of the night, knowing that his parents trusted them to not only remain within the boundaries of the home, but also sleep in separate rooms whenever she stayed over. She suspects that Ron plans to disregard those rules, and she can't help but be a willing participant when it comes to him.
They're soaking up the last fleeting days of summer, just a fortnight shy of their return for their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. After the minor rift they had the previous year that led to their first I love you, things have never been better between them.
Hermione's footsteps crunch as they trudge through the dewey grass, the straw-like emeralds tickling the exposed skin on her ankles. They've far surpassed the rolling hills and meadows connected to The Burrow and her curiosity only grows.
She looks up to find a blanket of stars shining in the night sky. The evening glow from the pale crescent moon casts shadows along the ground, allowing enough light for Hermione to make out the outline of her feet as Ron guides her through the grass towards his intended destination, never once letting go of her hand.
He comes to an abrupt stop in the center of a small chunk of flat land, surrounded by a cluster of oak trees with leaves that rustle on the mild breeze that filters through the air. Ron removes the satchel from his shoulder, digging through the small bag before retrieving a large item that he must have stuffed inside using an Undetectable Extension Charm.
"That's advanced magic, Ron!"
Ron pulls an irritated face. "Always the tone of surprise."
Hermione blushes, knowing she didn't intend for her compliment to be misconstrued as shock. She's just about to clarify her statement when Ron flourishes his wand to reveal a weathered camping tent, distracting her from all previous thoughts.
"Is that the tent your dad borrowed from Perkins for the Quidditch World Cup a few years back?" Hermione inquires as she takes a step closer to look.
Ron flashes her a mischievous grin. "Sure is. I may have nicked it."
"Ron!"
"Hermione!" He mimics back in a poor imitation of her higher-pitched voice, earning him a jab on the shoulder.
To the muggle eye, the tent appears normal, although she knows it has been charmed to be deceptively larger on the inside.
Ron gestures towards the portable lodging, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels. "Well, go on, have a look inside."
Hermione can spot the bead of sweat pooling on Ron's forehead, and the corner of her mouth tilts up as she realizes that he is nervous. "Okay, then."
When she lifts the partially open flap, she gasps in awe as her eyes focus on a wide open space that resembles a small home. As she remembers, she finds the kitchen, bathroom, and a few bunks nestled in the corner of the tent. What she isn't anticipating to find is one of those bunks moved into the center of the open space, now transfigured into a king-sized four poster bed draped in burgundy, reminiscent of the beds in the Hogwarts dormitories, only larger.
"Ron." She places a hand over her heart, feeling the rapid beat against her ribcage, unsure of what else to say.
"Is it okay?" He asks through a shaky voice. "I didn't want to be presumptuous, but I wanted you to have something comfortable to sleep on. I can sleep on one of the extra bunks-"
"Don't be ridiculous."
The words leave her mouth without a fleeting thought, forcing her to nearly chew a hole straight through her bottom lip. A moment of silence passes between them as they openly stare at each other, and Hermione can see the tips of Ron's ears turning red.
He searches through his bag again and she hears the clinking of glass before he pulls out a few empty jars. "Would you mind lighting these? You're the best at spells."
Hermione smiles, a warmth spreading through her as she pulls her wand from her pocket and conjures a jet of bright blue flames into each of the jars before spreading them around the floor surrounding the bed.
Clearing his throat, Ron reaches for Hermione's hands, gently pulling her to the edge of the bed to sit down.
Lacing their fingers together, Hermione moves their joined hands onto her lap, tracing the lines on his palm. "I feel like we really haven't gotten a moment alone like this all summer."
Ron groans. "Tell me about it. The chores list seems longer than ever. Mum is intent on us never being in the same room together alone."
Hermione's eyes flicker around the tent, mouth forming into a smirk. "I can understand why."
He tries to hide the redness coloring his cheeks by leaning down to press their foreheads together, making her shiver from his hot breath tickling her nose. "Can we stop talking about my mum now?"
Her eyelids flutter closed, allowing Ron's lips to just barely graze her own. "Al-alright."
Ron's lips are soft as they move against hers in a familiar pattern, prodding through the seam with ease to allow their tongues to dance together. She can feel him pulling her body closer to him, her palms instinctively coming up to rest on his chest. His thumb trails down the left side of her cheek before pushing any wispy curls behind her ear. His hand moves to cradle the back of her head, providing him the leverage he needs to deepen the kiss.
A soft whimper escapes her lips as she responds with increased enthusiasm by interlocking her hands behind his neck and pulling his body to hover over hers in a horizontal position on the bed.
Ron growls with an intense passion she's only observed when they're snogging and she's never been more turned on by it as she thrusts her hips to his center.
"You're so." Kiss. "Bloody." Kiss. "Brilliant."
Hermione giggles, allowing a wave of pleasure to ripple through her body that is perfectly intertwined with Ron's. Her pulse races at a higher rate than it ever has before, well aware how likely it is that tonight will serve as a huge turning point in their intimate relationship.
A blush creeps up on her cheeks as she recalls the reading she did earlier in the summer in preparation for what she might experience once she's ready to take that next step with Ron. She knows it might feel strange and unknown, even a bit clumsy or odd, like anything someone may experience for the first time.
The fluttering in her stomach grows, and she's having to remind herself that this isn't the same anxious feeling that she gets before taking an exam — this is different.
She has a tendency in the moment to hyperfixate on certain details — the growing heat in the small enclosed tent, skin prickling up from Ron's fingertips sliding up and down her arm, and the citrusy scent wafting from his freshly washed hair.
Hermione tears her lips from his, twisting her fingers through his short strands of hair without pausing to take a breath. "Do you know the protective spells?"
A visible gulp travels down Ron's throat as he nods at once. "Yes, they've been drilled into my head since I was fourteen."
She toys with a stray thread on the frayed end of his shirt. "We have to behave responsibly."
"And we will." Ron bends over to capture her lips with his again, only to be interrupted moments later.
"But it's-" Hermione pushes back on Ron's shoulder, wanting to see him eye to eye. She needs validation to ease her overactive mind. "We've been waiting for this moment. I just — I need to know how you're feeling. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I'm trying to snog my girlfriend." His laughter rumbles through his chest, vibrating their joined limbs, managing to cure a small amount of her nerves.
"Charming, Ron."
Ron flashes her a cheeky grin, wiped away quickly by a serious look crossing his face. They could joke about their first time all they want, but the reality is that they're here and the time is now and what in Merlin's name is going to change about their relationship afterwards?
"Hermione, are you positive you want to do this?" A slight tremor in his voice confirms that he's just as nervous as she is.
Hermione honestly isn't sure at first what answer she wants to give, however, the whispering voice in her head tells her to stop overthinking every little thing.
As she looks into his honest blue eyes, full of unspoken love, any remaining hesitation melts away.
Present Day
The dull, throbbing pain at the base of her skull is the first sensation she feels when she wakes, disoriented to discover that her dream had ended, and admittedly disgruntled that she had a desire for it to continue. The headache nearly crushes her like an oppressive force, her brain shouting no.
The bright light streaming in through the open drapes makes her cringe, pulling the covers over her eyes to allow herself another moment to adjust to reality. Nausea grows in the pit of her stomach as confusion sets in.
What happened last night?
When her eyes land on the small vial of Pepper-up potion on her nightstand, the memories of the night before come flooding back.
With a groan, Hermione sinks her head even deeper into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she attempts to block the reminder of her actions at the pub, to no avail.
The optimism she felt when she first arrived at the Leaky was incredible, until the reality of her situation completely blinded her, and she became an entirely different Hermione than she ever had been before.
She snatches the vial with desperate intention, not wasting any time before uncorking the top and tipping the entire contents into her mouth. Her ears burn as the warm potion works its way through her system and she rubs her cheekbones as she waits for the emitting steam to pass.
She tries to draw in enough air to sustain functionality, struggling to come to a standing position at the foot of her bed.
Hermione doesn't know what to say or think or feel. Seeing Ron with Lavender the night before knocked the wind out of her, truly collapsing the emotions she tried so hard to keep inside, embarrassing herself in a pub full of people who knew her at her best and had now seen her at her worst.
The dream she just experienced served a single purpose — to remind her that the door to her relationship with Ron is closing. There was a point in time when she believed that he would love her for the rest of his life, as she would him, but that wasn't — isn't — the case at this point.
No amount of mental preparation could have sufficiently prepared her for the extremely painful reality of existing in a world where the life she thought she would once have is — quite simply put — no longer an option. It hurts more than she could have ever imagined, like a knife slowly twisting through her gut, even more so knowing that she did it to herself.
Hermione reminds herself to lower her expectations for her interactions with Ron; she needs to stop being caught off-guard when they don't go the way she thinks they will. She's not foolish enough to expect more from him than is realistically plausible for her to get. The statistical chances of finding her way back to Ron are low, even if she hadn't left.
The hold he has over her heart is excruciating, but she supposes this is what she gets for being in love with the same person her entire life — and not to be certain that would ever change.
Hermione enters the kitchen with prepared caution, and she can hear her parents' low whispers mixed in with the sound of a sizzling pan. The whispering seizes once Hermione emerges, and she decides to focus on her father's concerned face, not willing to view the look of disappointment from her mum.
"You look a bit parched, dear," Hugh comments, folding up his newspaper on the table before nudging a container of orange juice her way.
She offers her dad a weak smile before pouring a small amount of juice into her empty glass, her hands noticeably quivering.
Before Hermione can even set the juice down on the table, her mum places a plate filled with eggs and a bowl of porridge in front of her.
"Here. Eat this. You'll need your sustenance."
Hermione sighs at her mum's clipped tone, watching her make a brisk walk back over to the sink.
"Thanks, Mum."
"Don't thank me," she responds at once, not bothering to look her daughter in the eye. "Thank Ron, who so kindly got you home safe in such a state."
Hermione can feel the bile rising in her throat as she stares at her full plate. There's no way she's going to be able to stomach any food now.
Jean huffs again, swiveling in her position to finally meet Hermione's gaze with crossed arms. "Honestly, Hermione, what were you thinking?"
Her jaw clenches, spurred on by the impact of her mum's words. "Oh, yes, I'm sure Ron got me home purely out of the kindness of his bleeding heart."
Jean waves a finger in Hermione's direction. "Don't put this on Ron when I've seen him more than I've seen you in the past five years."
"And it always comes back to this," Hermione shouts, banging her fist on the table. "You're always on his side when I am your daughter!"
Jean places a hand over her heart, eyes glossy with what look like tears. "My daughter who insists on pushing us away!"
The stinging sensation that Hermione felt the night before when she witnessed Lavender and Ron together returns, and she fights back the emotion lodged in her throat.
Growing quiet, she whispers, "How can you say that? Why can't you just trust that I know what's best for my life?"
"If I've given you an inclination that I don't trust you, Hermione, then maybe it has something to do with you refusing to let us in."
"Which would be a lot easier for me to do if I knew you weren't going to judge me!" Her anger returns, fueling her next words. "You've expressed your clear disapproval over my decision to leave many times and I just don't want to hear it anymore."
"Well, maybe if-"
"That's ENOUGH!" A booming voice echoes through the room, silencing Hermione and her mum at once.
Hugh's eyes are dark and stormy, and Hermione isn't quite sure she's seen him so red from anger before. He attempts to come to a standing position beside the table, however his attempt is thwarted as he sputters through a coughing fit, bending over the table until the wheezing stops.
Worry clouds Hermione's features as she leans over to grasp her father's arm. "Are you alright, Dad?"
"Hugh, sit down." Jean gently coaxes him back down in his seat as he seemingly struggles to catch his breath.
Hugh holds up a hand, indicating that he needs space. The two women in the room wait on bated breath for him to speak, both unsure of what he's wanting to say.
"We are the Grangers." Hugh's grave tone indicates the seriousness of his statement. "We are family. And we will not present ourselves as anything else. Am I understood?"
He looks between his wife and daughter, who both nod in agreement.
"Yes, Dad," Hermione whispers, picking up her fork to push the flimsy eggs around on her plate.
Jean sits down at the table and they eat together in agonizing silence, broken only by the sound of silverware clanking against the ceramic dishes. Hermione swallows only a few spoonfuls of her porridge before giving in to the queasy feeling in her stomach.
She takes a timid sip of her orange juice before standing, the sound of her chair legs scraping against the wooden floor intensifying the searing headache that is still present.
"Thank you for breakfast, but I think I need some fresh air. Excuse me."
It's a clear, sunny day, and Hermione finds the walk through the village calming. She's intent on believing that the weather is a sign that her day will improve.
She trudges up a familiar hill, coming to a small paddock that encompasses a vibrant orchard surrounded by tall trees. The first thing she spots is a flash of ginger hair blowing in the wind as Ginny effortlessly flies in circles around the makeshift Quidditch pitch.
Hermione comes to a standstill as she directs her squinting gaze to the sky, using one hand to shield her eyes from the blazing sun. She waits with restrained patience, resisting the urge to shout up to Ginny no matter how much she's ready to get to the point of the conversation she's hoping to have.
It takes Ginny approximately five minutes to notice Hermione, and much to the bushy-haired brunette's surprise, lowers her broom to the ground once she realizes that she has an audience.
Holding her broom with a solid grip in one hand, Ginny silently makes her way towards Hermione until they're standing face to face only a few steps apart.
Ginny's cool brown eyes appear tired, the anger that Hermione had seen displayed in them now gone. The hope in Hermione's heart lifts, and she clears her throat, waiting for the words in the speech she has prepared to force their way out.
"Harry told me that I could find you here."
"Really?" Ginny's eyebrows raise high above the sweaty fringe on her forehead. "Well, I might have to lie to him next time."
The ever present stinging sensation returns, and Hermione momentarily loses traction on what she planned to say next.
Ginny appears to notice Hermione's discomfort, her eyes softening. "Are you okay?"
Hermione raises one shoulder, fiddling with her hands in front of her twisting stomach. "Not really."
Looking away, Ginny circles her thumb around the tip of her broom. "Me neither."
The tension prompts Hermione to clutch and unclutch her shirt repeatedly between her antsy hands. "I've heard that the Harpies are having a great year so far."
The redhead nods, keeping her gaze trained sideways at her broom. "One of our better seasons."
Hermione rocks back on her heels, unsure of how to steer the lighthearted conversation in a different direction.
Ginny must sniff out her hesitation, for she tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing as if she's internally trying to figure out why they're engaging in small talk without identifying the hippogriff in the room first.
Clearing her dry throat, Hermione briefly considers that she should've drank more of the orange juice during breakfast before attempting any talking. She opens and closes her mouth several times before meeting the intensity of Ginny's brown eyes.
"It's very hard for me to admit when I'm wrong. And I was wrong with the way I handled our conversation last night."
Ginny's mouth slightly parts. "Hermione-"
She holds a hand up, silencing Ginny. "No. I need to get this out. Please."
Ginny rests her chin on the top of her broom, mouth pressed in a hard line.
Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione continues, "I was so focused on what went wrong with my relationship with Ron, that I completely disregarded how it would make everyone else feel if I left. At the time, I thought Ron couldn't have cared less, so I didn't-"
The breath catches in her throat, momentarily pausing her words. Hermione closes her eyes, willing herself to continue.
"I thought I was doing everyone a favor by leaving and rebuilding a new life for myself. When in reality, all I did was hurt the people I love the most." Hermione slowly opens her eyes, her vision blurry as she gazes at Ginny through her tears. "And I don't think any amount of words or number of apologies could make up for that."
Ginny's hardened expression softens, and she drums her fingers against the wood of her broom.
"Let's sit in the grass."
The request startles Hermione, but nonetheless she follows Ginny's lead.
"What happened with Ron after you both left the pub?" Ginny asks, curling her knees up against her chest.
Sitting cross-legged in the grass, Hermione begins to thread her fingers through the green strands. "He shouldn't have apparated me home last night from the pub. He could've put himself in danger."
Ginny's brows furrow as confusion seemingly sets in. "Ron wasn't drinking last night."
Her head snaps up. "Really?"
The redhead shrugs, replying, "No. Well, I suppose he had one pint at the start of the evening, but he switched to water pretty quick. I suspect a lot of it had to do with you. He noticed you drinking more than usual."
"In fact." Ginny hums, eyes shifting around as if she's trying to figure out an unsolved mystery. "I don't think I've seen him drink much of anything since you left."
Dread fills Hermione's bones as she recognizes the conversation steering in a direction she hasn't prepared for.
"Oh."
"But he was drinking more. Wasn't he?"
Turning to her fully, Hermione starts, "Ginny-"
Eyes widening, Ginny cuts Hermione off with a gasp. "Oh my God. Hermione-"
"Don't." She reaches out with the intention of touching the younger witch on her shoulder, but withdraws her hand when she decides against it at the last minute. With a frustrated groan, she continues, "Ginny, whatever you're thinking, that's nowhere near what happened."
"Did he ever-"
"No. Never. Never. He would never do that."
The words are unspoken, but she hopes that's enough to show Ginny that things are more nuanced than they appear.
Ginny's shoulders seem to relax before another wave of confusion flickers on her face. "But then?"
Sighing, Hermione leans back and props herself up on her elbows in the grass, gaze pointing up to the sky. "We all saw how devastating of a recovery process it was when he got injured on that Auror mission. He took it really hard, and-"
She loses all train of thought, squinting her eyes shut in an attempt to clear the flashback already flooding her mind.
"It's okay." A small hand squeezes her arm, and Hermione opens her eyes to find Ginny regarding her with a miniscule amount of sympathy in her eyes.
"Like I said, it's much more complicated than that. Please don't put the blame solely on Ron. I was the one who left."
Ginny, although silent for a moment, eventually lets out a scoff with a small smile forming on her face. "Well, I already know both of you are gits and completely mental. Harry and I have been saying that since Hogwarts."
Hermione can't help but laugh, a weight lifting off her heavy heart as the air between them grows more comfortable.
"But I also know that Ron still loves you. And I think everyone else saw that, too, by the way he took care of you last night."
Although short-lived, Hermione's laughter seizes. She sits up fully, resting her elbows on her legs before casting her eyes down towards the grass.
"I know." Her voice is much quieter and raspier than normal. "I don't think there's much we can do to ever make ourselves stop loving each other. That's why it hurts so much."
Ginny doesn't respond, but it's known without saying that the space doesn't need to be filled with empty words. Right now, they both can take comfort in each other's presence, and Hermione hopes that it's the first step to mending the broken trust in their relationship.
Desperate to change the subject and start anew on a more positive track, Hermione asks, "So, do you have an extra broom? I could probably go for a fly."
Ginny quirks up an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't care much for Quidditch?"
"I still don't." Hermione rubs her arm as a nervous laugh escapes her lips from the thought of dangling high in the air. With adamant sincerity, she directs her gaze towards Ginny's. "But I care about you. I've always been so proud of you."
Ginny's eyes glisten, and before Hermione can add any additional thoughts, the redheaded witch scoots over on the grass to rest her head on her shoulder. "I love you."
Leaning her own head atop Ginny's, Hermione lets out a content sigh. "I love you too, Sis."
Hermione clutches the vial filled with a distinct purple liquid in her hands, a weight of relief coursing through her veins as she reads the label: Product may induce drowsiness.
Before heading to the paddock to speak with Ginny, she had made a stop in at The Burrow, hoping to retrieve a bottle of Dreamless Sleep from Mrs. Weasley. Although the older witch had questioned why she would need to resort to such methods, one look in Hermione's eyes had apparently told her all that she needed to know, and she handed over the bottle without another word.
Hermione hopes that getting some much needed peace and rest will leave her refreshed and ready to face the next day with a more solid plan on how to navigate through the rest of her time in Ottery.
She's just about to consider an early evening when a knock at the front door disrupts her plans.
Curiosity grows in the pit of her stomach, and as she swings open the door she comes face to face with the one person she had been hoping to avoid until she had gotten a decent night's sleep.
Ron.
His face is void of all expression, leaning casually against the door frame.
"What-what are you doing here?"
"Mum sent an owl. She was concerned."
Of course.
Hermione knew that by going to Mrs. Weasley there was a high probability of her spreading the information to Ron, despite her specifically expressing her desire to keep the request between the two of them.
"She really shouldn't have contacted you."
"Well, she did. Now tell me…" Ron takes a deliberate step forward, jaw hardening as he crosses his arms. "Why do you need Dreamless Sleep?"
Although the breath hitches in her throat from the closeness between them, Hermione juts up her chin, focused on not backing down. "Why do you think?"
Ron's eyes roll upward. "I can't do this guessing game with you anymore, Hermione. I don't have a bloody clue what could be on your mind, so you might have to fill me in."
With an aggravated groan, Hermione stomps back into the living room, leaving the door wide open for Ron to walk through. He takes the opportunity, closing the door behind him with a solid bang. His eyes shift down each corridor.
"They're not home."
Ron nods, although remains quiet as he leans back against an empty wall.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Hermione's curiosity gets the best of her. "Why did you come?"
"Believe it or not, Hermione, I do care if you're not getting enough sleep."
Her mood lightens somewhat, enough for her to make a calm attempt at explaining what she's struggling with. "It's not that I'm not getting enough of it, it's more about the type of sleep."
"Elaborate."
The tone of his demand sparks her temper. "I don't really need the reminder of my past in my sleep too, do I? I'm already living it."
Ron's forehead creases, surveying her with his annoyingly deep blue eyes filled with concern.
"Now that you're here though," Hermione croaks, inhaling an unsteady breath, "I'm sorry."
"For what, exactly?"
Although the question is valid, Hermione can't help but feel slighted by the implications of there simply being too many apologies needed for Ron to know what she's referring to.
"I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was out of line." It isn't a specific apology by any means, but the one she is able to give right now lacking sleep and sufficient preparation.
"I think we've both said things we shouldn't have." Ron's voice is so quiet, Hermione almost misses what he says, yet the single admission feels like the first step towards them actually discussing what went wrong in the first place.
"Why are you really here, Hermione?"
Hermione had expected this question to come up, but up until this point, wasn't expecting it to be asked now.
"I'm up for a promotion. The Australian Ministry wants me to become the new Lead of the Law Enforcement department."
Although maintaining a decent level of stoicism, the corner of Ron's mouth slightly lifts. "Of course they do. They'd be bloody ridiculous not to give you the position."
"There's one caveat. A pretty major one, actually."
Ron tilts his head to the side, indicating for her to continue.
"There's a decree — a very old, very ancient law — that states that a Muggle-born witch who is legally married to a Pure-blood wizard may not hold a position of power in the workforce without direct written consent from her spouse."
Ron's eyes widen. "That's bollocks. This is why the British Ministry is loads-"
"Ron, it's not just an Australian law. It's worldwide. You know how hard it is to change those kinds of laws. You have to get the entirety of the magical community on board."
A pensive look falls upon Ron's face for a moment before shrugging. "So you need my signature? Done."
Hermione rubs a distressed finger over her brow. "That's the thing, Ron. I shouldn't have to conform to a centuries-old law that completely disregards my rights as a Muggle-born witch."
Understanding dawns on his face. "You're right. You shouldn't."
"I need your signature, Ron, but not on those papers." The implication of her words creates a stiff silence through the room, and she knows there's no turning back on what she needs to say next. "I'm not going to ask for your permission to take on a position I know that I am more than qualified for."
Several seconds later, after what feels like minutes, Ron quietly responds, "I know that."
Hermione opens her mouth to speak, although Ron is faster. "I think we should table any more conversation about this for now."
"Oh." Although crestfallen, she's relieved for more time to ready herself for the tough conversation she knows they still need to have. "Okay."
"How long are you home for?"
"I have three weeks."
"Yeah, alright. Well, the village festival is tomorrow."
"What?" Hermione shakes off the distraction, suddenly remembering all the years they spent experiencing the magical celebration together. "Oh, yeah, I had completely forgotten about that tradition."
"I will be pretty busy until after. I've agreed to help Fred and George with their booth for the joke shop."
A tight smile forms on her face. "I will have to stop by."
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Ron gives her a short nod before turning towards the door. As his hand reaches for the doorknob, it stills.
"Hermione?" His hand remains poised on the door, back turned away from her. "I'm not with Lavender."
Before Hermione can process his words, he opens the door, disappearing almost as fast as he would if he had disapparated right in front of her. She sinks onto the sofa cushions, mind reeling with what Ron could have been possibly trying to convey to her with that admission.
It's only then that she realizes that she's still clutching the bottle of Dreamless Sleep between her hands. Before she can give it a second thought, she stuffs the vial into her beaded bag on the floor. Hermione curls up on the sofa, willing herself to sink deeper into the void of her life.
Maybe just one more dream.