He opened the door into the beautifully
painted, orange house. Walking down the hall, he stopped and looked into a
large, gold mirror. He fixed his tie and moved a comma of hair out of his blue,
world-like eyes. He continued down the hall. Hundreds of paintings and pictures
hung throughout the corridor, some were winking and waving, whilst some stayed
still and stiff as rocks.
Finally reaching the stairwell at the end of
the long hall, he looked up, took a deep breath, and pressed on. After about
three flights of stairs, he walked in a white door in the middle, on the right
side.
"Hermione?" He peered in, and saw a
wave of brown hair on the back of a chair. Walking closer, he saw her reading a
book. "Hermione?" he whispered again, and she turned around, rather
surprised.
"Ron?" she cried, standing on the
chair both to greet him and to meet up with his tremendous height. "You're
back! How was France?"
"Alright, I suppose. I'd rather be here
than there." He shrugged.
"Oh," She said shortly. "If I
remember, it was very beautiful there, in France, I mean. So, how are your
parents? I haven't seen them since I dropped by the Ministry to give them some
papers, and your mother was there."
"Good, I
suppose."
"You 'suppose'?"
"I haven't seen them yet. I owled them
last week, if that's what you meant."
"Oh. Yes, well. Ottery St. Catchpole's
far too far from here. So I can't very well drop in." Hermione smiled.
Ron was looking down, fixated on her hand.
"A-are you married?"
"Wh- er… Yes." She caught Ron's eye
and looked away.
"How long?"
"About two years, actually."
"Well, who is he? Do I know him?"
"I think so. He's an Auror. So, truly, I
haven't seen him in about nine months."
"Is it Harry?" Ron asked before
thinking.
Hermione looked shocked and sighed. "No.
His name is Connor Daily. He was a Ravenclaw. I met him when I went to visit
Harry at work."
"Oh. Well, Congratulations. But, it's a
bit late, I s'pose."
Hermione half smiled and asked. "Well,
what have you done since you've been back in Britain?"
"I Apparated, and came here."
The smiled faded away, and she sat back in
the chair.
"Really?"
"Just got in an hour ago." He said
checking his watch.
"Where are you staying?"
"Well, The Burrow, I suppose."
"That's too far away from here!"
Hermione cried. "I guess you can stay here for the evening. Remember what
I said."
"Thanks, Mione. I can't Apparate there.
Ministry rules. I think it's rather stupid. Did you hear? Something about Death
Eaters is able to attack through transporting people to the wrong place.
Telekinetic situations, something like that. Hmm.. Have any Floo powder on
you?"
"No, actually. I usually just go the
Muggle ways. Just stay here, Lord knows I'm already hoping Harry will come
home, and Connor, let alone you."
"But I'm not an Auror. Death Eaters
don't go after Quidditch Reserve Players for other countries terribly too
often." He muttered. Hermione knew he absolutely hated the fact the only
team that would take him was the French Reserve Team.
"Ron, they go after everyone." She
shook her head and led him into another bedroom across the hall. "So
you're going to stay here, for tonight." And she left the room without any
further discussion.
Ron sat in the bedroom Hermione had let him
use and was blown away.
If he's an Auror, than I'd like to see
Harry's house, he's a famous one. I still can't believe she's married.
Something told me I should've just gone to the Burrow, instead of here. Now I'm
stuck. Great. I should've just told her years ago. But now she's married. We
graduated ten years ago, Weasley! Get over it Hermione's gone.
"Ron?" Hermione peeked into the
guest bedroom. "Do you want to go out to eat with me? I'm a horrible
cook."
He blinked. "The Hermione Gr- Daily
can't cook?"
He grinned wider than a Cheshire cat.
"Does that mean you can't magic something to eat?"
Hermione put her hands on her hips and
replied, "I can make food by magic, but I don't care to, being as I live
in a Muggle neighbourhood. And it's still Hermione Granger."
"I'm s'posin' your neighbours don't come
in the ruddy house too much. With your husband always gone and moving pictures.
The owls. Is that old fruit Crookshanks still around here?"
"Muggles have a thing called 'the
British Navy'. Used to be the biggest, before America and all. I think…I was
never good at Muggle history. Well, I was, of course, but you get the
point!" She said it all so fast Ron just blinked a few more times and
didn't even attempt to translate Hermione-ish. "No. My neighbours never
come here. They're not my favourite people to live next door to. But I did like
the house."
"Whatever." Ron muttered. "So
what's for eating? I've never had Muggle food."
"It's similair to our food, Ron.
Practically the same." Hermione answered, closing the door of her
townhouse and leading him into the street.
"Okay… well, where are we going?"
he asked walking on the sidewalk.
"There's a nice pub up the street you
might enjoy."
"Muggle food? Dad'd be ecstatic. Well,
before he tasted it, anyway."
Hermione laughed and walked on.
"What's Connor like?" Ron asked
Hermione. A surprised look crept across her face and transformed into a smile.
"Well, he's tall. But not even close to
as tall as you are. He's got this brownish-blonde coloured hair, and it's
really thick. His eyes are blue, but not even near as blue as yours."
"Sounds a bit like Lockhart. Are you
sure he's not about fifty and has all blonde hair?" Ron teased her.
"No." She nudged him. "That's
the pub." They sat down, and ordered their drinks, and she continued.
"He's from Liverpool. Um… I think I'm going to divorce him…"
"What?" Ron asked spitting out his
Pepsi, out of surprise (and sheer happiness).
"Yes, well, he's nice. But I don't know.
I can't work because I'm too busy wondering if he's all right in Germany-- Did
I mention that's where he is? And I don't know. He's never here. I miss that. I
married him because he was fun, and we'd go to the theatre and eat out. And the
fact, that He was the bookkeeper there. He was the last man they'd send out.
But they did. And the-the f-f-f-f" Hermione was close to tears, and now
engulfed in them.
"Hermione-" Ron started. "Er…
checks please!"
After Hermione choked out the correct money
from her purse to give to the waitress, and Ron collected her and left.
By the time they reached the house, Hermione
was flat out producing more water than the Hoover Dam.
"Ron, I'm really sorry. I really am."
She yawned, sitting on the couch in the parlour.
"S'not a big deal." Ron replied,
coming in to the room with two Vegemite sandwiches. "I made dinner."
He shrugged. "S'nothing big, but this huge Beater on the team, he's from
Brussels or something, made me make them for him."
"Thanks Ron, it's very-" she took a
bite of it and attempted to swallow. "Good.. Well, maybe that's not the
word for it, but anyhow."
"A lot of people don't fancy it."
He took a huge bite and swallowed. "But I'm used to it."
"The Iron Stomach. You always were. I
guess because you were always so tall, and so much stronger than Harry and
I." Hermione laughed. "I always wondered why you were so skinny, but
you're so tall it didn't really matter."
"I loved being kids. No one worried
about anything. Well, except Voldemort. Actually, I think I'm talking about
something else…. We did have a lot to worry about. Harry for one thing."
Hermione looked down and finished her
sandwich. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning! You can watch the telly;
you know how to work it? I showed you in our fifth year when you came over for
holiday."
After Hermione left, there wasn't much for
Ron to do. Nothing was on the television so he got up, and decided to turn in.
I wonder why she'd want to divorce Connor.
I mean, he sounds so much better looking than me. He thought, walking up the stairs and stopping at a
large picture he hadn't noticed earlier.
There were many people, and Ron noticed most
of them, smiling and waving. On one side there were some men with black dress
robes, and women with lilac robes on the other side. Meeting in the middle with
what appeared to be a bride and a groom.
It hit Ron immediately that it was Connor.
That was his 'competition'.
Great. I have a lot of a chance. Bloody
wedding, bloody house, bloody everything! Hermione's never going to love me
after that. I've seen the ring. Mine would look like a piece of tin next to
that. I'm too late. Just a bit too late.
That night, Ron slept the worst he had ever
slept in his twenty-seven years of life. The next morning, he searched the
second and third stories for Hermione, and finally found her downstairs, in the
kitchen.
She was hunched over a letter, next to a
great Snow Owl. Ron moved closer and saw the red tie around its neck. Ministry
Owl. Ron thought. He sat on the table, behind the island Hermione was
leaning on. And saw she was crying.
"Hermione?" Ron asked carefully.
She turned around, dropped the letter and ran into his arms.
"Ron! It's terrible!" she cried,
soaking the front of his robes.
"What is?" Ron asked.
"Here!" she leaned over and handed
him the letter off the floor.
It read:
Dear Mrs. Granger-Daily,
We are sorry to inform you, but on Auror work
in Germany, Mr. Connor Winslow Daily has been found killed. His fellow Aurors
did everything they could to safe him, as an unidentified Death Eater captured
him and put him under the Imperius Curse, then slowly tortured him, and told
him to perform Avada Kedavra on himself. On behalf of the British Ministry of
Magic, we are sorry.
Sincerely,
Penelope Weasley,
Minister of Magic
P.s- I am sorry, 'Mione. Connor was a nice
man. I hope next time I talk to you it isn't under these circumstances.
Ron dropped the letter, speechless.
A/N- the sandwich bit, is supposed to be like
a verse in a little song called "Land Down Under" (I think) and I
also think it was Men at Work, and if I'm wrong, sorry. It was a stupid idea
and I couldn't resist. I know "Winslow" wasn't a terribly good name.
I looked up 'Connor' and it either means 'knowledge' or 'perfect' or
something.. I forgot. And Winslow's an inside joke.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling rocks hard.
