Runaway Fox
Chapter Two: A Walking Enigma
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does, but we all knew that already didn't we?
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"Ron?" whispered Hermione Granger. She couldn't believe it. She saw Ronald Weasley across the street. And he was getting away. Hermione found herself running into the street without looking around first. Hermione had to know if it was really him or just some kind of illusion. She didn't recognize him at first. "Ron!" she called out as she raced forward.
Unfortunately, Ron looked at his watch just when Hermione recognized him. He realized that he would be late for his meeting with the clients. He had to duck into a corner and apparate back to the hotel. By the time, Hermione got across the street he was gone. She now wasn't sure if she saw him at all. And now she realized that she was late for that meeting with her mother and friends. She took of for the nearby bistro. When she got there her mother gently berated her for being late. Hermione quickly apologized and when asked why she was late she said it was nothing and that she just lost track of time. Her mother didn't allow anyone else to question her further. As far as her mother's friends knew Hermione was working an office in London.
Hermione wondered if she really did see him or was it her imagination. She also wondered if she should tell Harry or any of the Weasleys. Maybe, they knew that he was here and she didn't. Hermione had thought of Ron for a while. Not that she forgot about him, but she didn't think of him. She was angry at him for not coming to Harry and Ginny's wedding and for not being there when their baby was born. Most of all, she was angry at him for not being there for her either. Ron stopped writing for a long time. It wasn't until the World Quidditch Cup did anyone know that was dead or alive. After that, Hermione had something to follow. She was actually paying attention to news about Quidditch in America. She was happy to read about him being fine, but soon that stopped when he announced that he wasn't going to continue playing. Fred, George, Harry, and Charlie thought that was insane of him. How could anyone stop playing Quidditch when they were being paid for it? And Hermione knew that the Americans paid their athletes ridiculously large salaries. She had no idea how much they were paying Ron to begin with, but rumor had it that they were offering him twice the amount of money and a bonus for each game won. Not that Hermione could blame them, the Americans wanted to keep the team that won them the World Quidditch Cup. Hermione didn't know what Ronald Weasley was up to these days.
She didn't know that Ron owned part of the hotel that he was staying in or that he was about to attend one of the most exclusive social events in London. In fact, Ron forgot about that last part.
~*~
"What do you mean I have to go to this dinner next week?" demanded Ron as he paced up and down his hotel suite. He was dressed partly in his Armani suit that he wore for the meeting with the clients which was a complete success. His coat hung on one of the chairs of a large dining table in the room. It looked like a penthouse and not like a hotel suite. He was only wearing his slacks, silvery grayish dress shirt, and his black shoes. It looked like he was practically gliding back and forth on the floor rather than pacing.
"It's on the schedule, Ron," said Simon with a pleasant smile. Simon was one of the first friends Ron had made when he came to America. His family was from California and practiced magic like Ron's; he was a pure blood. He had platinum blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. His skin was tan because he liked to go surfing as often as possible. Ron and Simon met in college. They were on the college Quidditch team together. Simon was a beater, while Ron started out as a keeper. Simon also knew Ron better than either Hermione or Harry. He knew that Ron knew the famous Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and the person who defeated Voldemont. Everyone talked about the efforts that everyone had made to stop the Dark Lord. Some talked about the work of the Aurors, and how brilliant Hermione Granger was. However, everyone seemed to forget Harry Potter's other best friend. Simon was the oldest of three children in his family and his parents were divorced. And both his parents got along much better after the divorce. His parents were always so friendly with all of Simon's friends. His mother thought that Ron had a charming accent and that made him her favorite among his friends. Simon's family didn't have much money. Not really, after the divorce. His mother moved his siblings to Big Bear, California to run a snow lodge because it was the only work that she could find. Simon's father was well off and living back in North Carolina while his mother had to struggle. She had too much pride to take too much money from his father. So, like Ron, he didn't have much money growing up. During the weekends, both of them would drag race their broomsticks along the forest to see whose was faster. Both of them kept making their broomsticks go faster the same that Muggles made their cars go faster. Pretty soon, they were starting broomsticks from scratch, but Ron was always much better at design and engineering than Simon was. He also was a better Quidditch player. Simon always felt a little envious of the fact that Ron was a World Cup winning seeker, but he didn't let it bother him too much. Ron and Simon were like brothers. However, it was Ron's company, they weren't partners, and that was fine with Simon. Simon was very loyal to Ron, and he had his reasons.
"Don't give me that, you stupid git. I'm not going," snapped Ron. Simon knew Ron well enough to know that he was joking about that stupid git part.
"You have to attend some social events, Ronny, because that's the only way people will know if you're alive," said Simon evenly.
"I hate those things. It doesn't matter if it's magic or not. I still hate those things. I've never liked parties like those. I hated the Yule Ball held at Hogwarts during the Triward Tournament," insisted Ron.
"I know how you feel, but I don't sympathize. As your second in command, I say you must go," said Simon. "Besides, I'm going also. I don't know any of these people."
"Well, neither do I."
"I know but at least you speak like them."
"What? They're speaking English. In case you didn't notice that's what were speaking right now, Simon."
"True, but I don't have the accent."
"Oh please. I'm spending half my time trying not to get my British and American euphemisms mixed up. Maybe, it will be worth going. You've been making fun of my accent all these years. I'd like to see you uncomfortable for a change of pace," said Ron with a smirk on his face.
"On second thought…maybe, I shouldn't go," said Simon uncomfortably.
"No, if I'm going, then you're going down with me," said Ron firmly.
~*~
Hermione got around to seeing Harry and Ginny that weekend partly to find out if they had heard from Ron recently. She was playing with the baby on her lap. Jessica had her mother's flaming red hair and her father's emerald green eyes.
"Have you heard from Ron at all?" asked Hermione as she pulled some of her hair back from Jessie's clutches. Ginny kept her hair short because she kept pulling her hair.
"No, why?" asked Ginny. Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. She was the last person he thought would be asking about Ron.
"I was out in London this week to meet with my mother and I thought I saw someone who looked like him. Except different. Or maybe, I'm wrong. It took me a moment to even recognize him. If that was him," said Hermione.
"How did he look like?" asked Ginny curiously. She missed her brother very much.
"He was taller. If that's possible. I mean he was pretty tall before he left Hogwarts anyway. He was slender. Not really gangly any more. If it's him, he's filled out a bit. He was dressed in Muggle clothes," replied Hermione. Trying to remember the red haired stranger she had seen.
"Well, that's possible. Besides, not everyone has red hair," said Harry with a smile. "Well, that depends if you're around too many Weasleys at once, then the whole world might as well have red hair."
His red haired wife and child looked at him. "Not that it's a bad thing," said Harry immediately "My mother had red hair."
"Wouldn't be great if it was Ron? Just think. Maybe, he's coming back," said Ginny, her voice hardly contained her excitement.
"I don't think we should tell your parents or anyone else that Hermione's seen him until we're sure it's him. It wouldn't be good to get your parents' hopes up," said Harry.
"I suppose your right. It's just we haven't heard anything about him in a while. You'd think that he'd call home after winning the Cup," said Ginny. Harry looked up at her. He had to admit seeing Ron catch that Golden Snitch in Paris was amazing. Five years ago, Harry was recruited to play Quidditch for an English team, while Ron was over looked. Ron didn't take it too well. He was jealous of Harry. Actually, there was a lot of overlooking of Ron when he was in England. Harry felt that Ron deserved a lot more credit than people gave him. Harry felt bad for overshadowing Ron so much. All of England was proud of Ron for catching that Golden Snitch even if he was playing for the Americans. It took a decent broom of his own to prove how good of a flier Ron was. Everyone thought that Ron was a hero on both sides of the Atlantic after that win. But, Ron had dropped out of sight after that. The strangest thing was that during the team interview that was in the Daily Prophet Ron barely said anything. One of the reporters asked if he would be willing to join an English team, if there were any offers, and his answer was, "No comment." Those were the only words Ron gave throughout the interview. Yet, for weeks after that, there were rumors of Ron coming to play for one of the English teams. Harry's team was the Chudley Cannons and they were the top team in the country. During the World Cup, they were knocked out by the Russian team early in the rounds, but Harry was happy to see that the American waste them at the final game, and he was even more happy that Ron was the one who did it.
Ron left two weeks after graduation from Hogwarts. The only person he told that he was leaving was Hermione. She felt guilty because she didn't do a good job of convincing him not to leave. He told her that he wanted to take his chances in the United States. And he fooled her into thinking that he wasn't going to go, but he left quietly. It took a few hours before anyone realized that he was gone. The only way Hermione could feel better was if she could bring Ron back somehow. The only thing they knew was that he was living in the United States. At least, that's what they heard last. Ron could be anywhere at this point.
"Maybe, I shouldn't say anything. It makes me look nutters," said Hermione softly.
"No, it doesn't. Thanks for telling us. It feels like we're hearing some kind of news about Ron," reassured Ginny with a smile. They moved on to a different topic all together.
~*~
Ron had never suffered through any thing less dignified than what he was going through at this very moment. "Please lift your arms, Mr. Weasley," said a diminutive man with a tape measure and a footstool. He spread his arms out with a sigh. He had to be fitted for a tuxedo for the ball next week that he was supposed to attend. Even then, he was plotting his escape. He was planning on apparating out within the first hour of the party. However, Simon knew Ron well enough to know what he was planning and had every intention of forcing him to stay. It was partly fun and business for Simon to torture Ron this way.
"There you go, Mr. Weasley. I will work on it immediately. I will finish it before the ball on Friday evening," said the tailor, Mr. O'Reilly. He was a Muggle tailor. Ron didn't have to leave the safety of the hotel if he decided not to. No, when you're as rich as Ron Weasley, the world comes to you. He thought back to just before the meeting, when he ducked into the alleyway. He heard someone call his name. It was distinctive. A woman's voice. It sounded like a voice from long ago. It sounded like Hermione calling me. But, I don't know. Maybe I was just hearing things, Ron thought. As he rubbed his temple and then raked his fingers though his red locks. His hair was cut short. He looked around and saw a falcon come to the window. It was his falcon. It was a gift from one of his friends in Egypt, the one who provided some of the best broomstick cores in the business, and the falcon's name was Horace. He fluttered to Ron's side and he took the letter from him. It was a note from Ron's secretary saying that production was fine and that her official weekly report would be fax to him as soon as it was ready. Horace flew to his perch for a much needed rest. It wasn't easy flying across the Atlantic.
Ron looked out the grand window of his suite. He had everything he wanted growing up, but there was a price to everything. He never realized it. Growing up, he felt jealous of Harry for all the attention he had gotten. But, Ron realized what the price for Harry's fame was: the death of his parents and a scar that was on his forehead as a constant reminder of that event in his life. Ron touched the scar on his abdomen through his thin white shirt. It wasn't a magically inflicted scar like Harry's, but it also represent something much more painful than he could have ever imagined. For his wealth, he had traded the people who mattered the most to him. The only person left was Simon, and it was Simon who kept him going. Simon and his family helped Ron. During that time in his life, he got to look through Harry Potter's eyes. Ron saw what it must have been like to be Harry. Always on the outside looking in. That's how Ron felt around Simon and his family. The Scotts were very generous and kind to Ron, just like Ron's family was to Harry. Ron never understood the fuss. At first, he thought that the Scotts were only being friendly to him because he had just arrived in a new country and knew no one. And then what happened three years ago, made Ron's place in Simon's family more permanent.
Ron picked up the Daily Prophet that was brought up by Simon earlier. Simon had met some girl at a pub and pretended to be some helpless American tourist, tricking her into showing London to him. Ron smirked at the thought. Simon was a real lady killer; he chased anything in a skirt and was an incurable flirt. To Simon, it didn't matter if the girl was magic or Muggle. He looked up the sports section, but not the business section. He hardly read the business section. He was paying attention to his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons; the team that Harry played seeker on. The funniest thing about being pronounced one of the greatest seekers of all time by the World Cup Committee, all the teams in the United Kingdom rallied to get his attention. The Chudley Cannons were one of the first teams to make an offer. Ron seriously considered taking it, but he was a seeker and that meant that they were willing to push Harry out just because Ron was luckily enough to get the Golden Snitch at the World Cup. So, Ron turned down the offer along with the others. He wasn't happy playing anymore. At least not professionally, he was happier playing Quidditch with friends. He found his calling was making broomsticks. Ron remembered telling Simon about it, and Simon was quick to say he wanted no part in it. However, Ron's business took off quickly after that.
Harry was doing well on the team and there was talk that this year, the English team had a chance of winning the World Cup. Ron was happy for Harry. In fact, last week a broomstick with design specification personally from Ron was given to the top makers of the company. Ron wanted to craft the broomstick himself, but he didn't have the time. Ron's company was making a customized broomstick for Harry and giving it as a gift. Just as simple as that, Ron hoped that Harry would take it without question. Ron suddenly remembered what happened during his third year at Hogwarts. Hermione questioned the Firebolt that Harry received for Christmas because she suspected it was from Sirius Black (that was later proven to be true). Hermione. She could tell Harry that there was something wrong with the broomstick that Ron was giving. She probably do all sorts of de-jinxing and un-hexing on it. She might even strip it down. Or what if she decides to try and trace where the broomstick was coming from? She was an Auror, so that meant she had the resources, but Ron had the power and the backing to keep himself hidden. Besides, Warp Speed was so well known, no one would question them giving Harry a free broomstick. After all, he was Harry Potter. Ron shook his head. He was convincing himself that's what would happen. Either way, he hoped to be out off of British soil before the broomstick was delivered to Harry.
~*~
Hermione was up for a long night. She had to take the nightshift again, so that some of the other Aurors could have the night off. It was Friday night. There was this strange unspoken policy that people with families got more nights off than people who were single. As if Hermione didn't deserve a Friday night off. She kept her hair in a ponytail and put on her jacket. She was to go out tonight with Seamus Finnigan.
"Let's go, Hermione. Us poor, lonely, and single people are force to do this," said Seamus.
"Want to get married so we don't have to do this?" asked Hermione jokingly.
"Hmm…that is a thought," said Seamus thoughtfully.
"I was joking!" exclaimed Hermione.
Seamus laughed and opened the door to let her through first. "Did you hear? The Muggles are having some kind of big party for some their rich people. We're talking elites with tons of cash," said Seamus.
"Oh, no! Don't tell me we have to make sure that nothing happens to those people?" asked Hermione. Not that she didn't like her job, really babysitting a bunch of rich people wasn't her idea of fun on a Friday night.
"I'm afraid so. Don't hex the messenger," said Seamus holding up his hands. Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long night.
~*~
It was already a long night for Ron. He felt very stupid for agreeing to come along. Simon was having fun flirting with the girls at the bar. Perfect. I can slip out now. Ron had an excellent track record for slipping out during formal occasions, magic or otherwise. He had slipped out of parties in Paris, Budapest, Berlin, Milan, Sydney, Tokyo, New York, Chicago, and of course, San Francisco and New York City. He knew that all it would take was a pretty face to distract Simon. Ron walked out of the ball room before any hopeful gold diggers could get to him.
He took of his bow tie as soon as he was outside. It was cold, but it was better than the stifling crowd inside. Sure, it was a ball room and pretty spread out, but Ron still didn't like it. He unbutton the top three buttons and walked outside in the London fog. His hair was getting damp from the fog a little bit, but he didn't care. He wanted to apparate out, but he didn't feel like it for some strange reason. He just wanted to get some fresh air away from everyone else.
Ron never felt like he belonged in places like this ball. No, he preferred either being in a board room or in his own person workshop working on a broomstick. Or better yet, playing Quidditch in his indoor testing field back in the research and development department back in San Francisco. He walked along in the mists, trying to find some stars out there.
~*~
"This is the place," said Seamus as he and Hermione appeared there. Hermione looked at the outside of the building they had just apparated to. She could hear a soft tango in the air. "Let's separate and make our rounds and get this over with," she said. Seamus nodded.
Hermione walked off to the side of the building. She saw someone out there in the fog. "Lumos," she whispered as she drew out her wand out and tried to peer through the mists and darkness. The figure was staring out towards the stars. It had to be a man. Something about the figure frightened Hermione for a moment. He was tall and wearing Muggle clothes based on what she could see.
Who was this mysterious man? Hermoine lifted her hand up for a moment higher to see. He was more than a head taller than her. She was only 5'6". The light from her wand caught his red hair and she gasped and whispered, "Nox," extinguishing the light from her wand. It had to be Ron Weasley. Please let it be Ron, her thoughts pleaded. She wanted to call his name, but choose not to because he might disapparate from where he was. She walked as quietly as possible towards the figure.
The figure started to walk away. Hermione thought that he must have heard her, but his steps weren't quick. They were slow as if he were just walking off and didn't notice anyone or anything. When Hermione realized it, she started walking again. She stopped when she realized that the mist had swallowed up the enigma that just walked away from her again.
AN: How long could this game continue? LOL. I guess I wanted to show how much Hermione and Ron keep missing each other both literally and figurative. It's one of the funniest things in the books. Besides, I had a title for this chapter. I've never been good at naming things. Also, I'm trying to make up things about how the broomstick making. Thanks to Dylan for reviewing. ^_^
