Return To Hogsmeade
Chapter Four
-dutchtulips-
***
Hermione, adjusting the cuffs of her robes, slowly hiked up the street in the direction of the Three Broomsticks, a tavern that the curly-haired witch knew was chiseled into her mind forever, although it was a place she never thought she'd be visiting again. But nonetheless she was there at the front door, taking a deep breath and swinging it open, stepping inside the dim bar.
A band called the Dragons Five were playing music in the corner, as witches and wizards of all kinds were circled around tables and lined up at the bar. A chatter of conversation enveloped the packed room, making even Hermione feel at home again. Slowly she approached the bar to get herself a drink, but was intercepted by a familiar face.
"Hermione! My favorite daughter-in-law!"
She turned around quickly, seeing Molly Weasley pouncing upon her, sweeping Hermione up into a motherly hug. "Well, soon to be ex-daughter-in-law, Molly," she replied, holding up her hand to show her engagement ring. "I've got a new guy. He's a professional Quidditch player."
"Three cheers from the crowd for him, then!" Mrs. Weasley replied cheerfully. She turned towards the bartender. "You make sure you get this little lady anything she wants, all right?" Hugging Hermione once more, she lastly said, before slipping back into the crowd, "You have a good time tonight, love."
"Thanks, I will." Hermione sighed and turned to the bartender and ordered a sweet vermouth. While she was waiting, a new voice called out to her.
"Hermione, is that you?"
She turned around in a flash, bringing Angelina Johnson into view. A smile lit up her face. "Angelina! Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me, all right! Haven't seen you in ages!" She swept her old fellow Gryffindor into a hug. "What've you been up to nowadays?"
"I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet," Hermione answered. "Well, what about you? Still chasing that Quidditch career, so to speak?" She laughed.
"Oh, not too much lately, though Fred's been wanting me to try out for Britain's team again. I told him I still didn't believe they'd think I was good enough, but -"
"Fred? Weasley? You mean the two of you are married now?" She exclaimed.
Angelina nodded. "Going on four years now. Not to mention we've got a daughter now. Her name's Chloe."
Hermione embraced her friend again. "How wonderful! You've really done well for yourself, Angelina. It's so great to have seen you again." Just then, she received her drink.
"You as well, Hermione," Angelina smiled as the curly-haired witch grabbed her goblet of vermouth.
Toting it with her through the tavern, after she'd said goodbye to Angelina, Hermione spotted Ron in the corner opposite of the band, and made her way towards him. As she got closer, she noticed he was accompanied by another woman.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" She said, approaching the two of them.
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron said, rolling his eyes.
She ignored him. Turning to the woman, she said, "Well, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Who might you be?"
"Natalie. Natalie McDonald," she introduced herself. "And you. . .?"
"Oh, I'm Ron's sassy, big-city snob news reporter wife whom he refuses to divorce even though I'm engaged to be married to another man," Hermione replied neatly, holding out her hand to display the ruby engagement ring.
"Wow, Ronnie, look at the size of that rock!" She said, gripping Hermione's wrist and swiveling it his direction so that he could see.
Ron paid it no heed. To Natalie, he said, "Why don't you go get us some drinks?"
"Okay!" She said brightly before ambling off in a rush. Once she had gone, Ron walked over to the closest table, where Harry and Neville were already seated, clutching bottles of butterbeer with a couple of sets of Gobstones laying in the middle. Hermione was right on his heels and, as he sat down, she placed her goblet of vermouth in front of, obstructing his reach for the Gobstones.
"Why do you make me be mean to you?" She asked smartly. "You think I like doing that?"
He turned to look at her. "Yeah, yeah, I really think you do. What d'you call turning my house upside-down and stealing all of my money out my vault? You live to drive me out of my mind!"
"Well, it's quite simple. If you'd just send back the divorce papers with your name on them, then you wouldn't have to be tripping all over me right now!" Hermione snapped. "But if you want to play hardball, I'm game!"
Ron waved her off dismissedly. "Whatever, 'Mione. You just do whatever you want."
Suddenly two new voices jumped into the conversation. "Oi, Fred! Not hungry, are you?"
"Haven't had a single Canary Cream all day, George! What 'bout you?"
Hermione felt her stomach jumped up as she looked up and realized the voices belonged to Fred and George, and now the two twins were circling her like a pair of vultures. "Oh, no, no, no!" She exclaimed, trying to get away, but it was too late. Fred and George both smashed into her on either size, and were now squeezing her small frame between them.
At last she broke away, almost shouting, "No! Times have changed! No more 'Hermione Sandwich', guys, got it?"
They slowly backed off. "Okay, okay! Cripes," George said, surprised at her outburst.
"We won't do it anymore, then," Fred put in, and then they both joined the others at the table.
Harry couldn't help it; he turned to look over at Hermione, saying, "Stars, Hermione, who put the Filibuster down your knickers?"
She said nothing as everyone else at the table started to laugh at Harry's retort. The raven-haired wizard got up from his chair and led Hermione over, referring her to a chair on the outskirts of the table. "Now, Herm, you just sit there and watch as I show Ron how to lose at Gobstones."
Hermione, however, didn't sit. "Well, see, that's just the thing. I'm not really a watch and see kind of witch, am I, Ron?"
The redhead peered over at her, wondering what she was getting at.
***
Sometime later, a long line of empty shot glasses, which had previously been filled with rum, were sitting across the table, where now almost everyone in the Three Broomsticks was crowded around, watching Ron, Harry, Fred, George, Neville, and Hermione playing Gobstones. Already far into what seemed like the millionth game that night.
Hermione, currently, was leaning drunkenly against Neville. "Now," she advised him, a slight slur in her words, "Don't blow this one."
He sent his stone skittering towards the others, cracking into a few of them and giving he and Hermione some points. "Doing just fine, here, Hermione," he replied simply.
Meanwhile George and Ron were gathered on the other side of the table, staring down at the game. "Come on, Little Brother, we need to get back into the game! Just think of the Quidditch final back when you were in seventh year, catching that Quaffle and sending it soaring through the Slytherin goal post at twenty feet away. . ." He grinned.
"Oh, yeah," Ron grinned as well, bending forward to study the Gobstones.
"You remember, too, Hermione?" George asked.
She put on a stick smile. "Oh, how could I forget? That was the night Ron got me pregnant."
The redhead looked up at her, traces of that fated death glare back on his face. "Oh, why don't you just announce that to the whole world, why don't you?" He said indignantly.
"Oh, hell," She snapped back. "It's not like anyone can keep a secret around here, anyways. Well, except maybe Neville, here."
He looked over at her with his big, round eyes. "Me? What did I do?"
"Oh, nothing," Hermione said, getting woozily up from her chair. "But then again, you never did anything. You never could! You were about the slowest student at Hogwarts! Never could set a cauldron up straight, for what it was worth! Heaven forbid I ever rescued you from Snape all of those times in Potions class!"
Neville reddened, in disbelief at what ridicule Hermione was giving him - a fact he confirmed by opening and then closing his mouth silently, resembling a goldfish. Getting up from his chair, Neville said quickly, "Well, I think I've had just about enough fun for tonight. See you all later." With that, he'd disappeared out the front door of the Three Broomsticks.
"Oh, come on!" She called after him, still teetering from the rum. "I was just kidding around!" when he didn't return - to nobody's surprise - Hermione shrugged, and turned to Mrs. Weasley, who has suddenly appeared. "Molly! How 'bout another round of rum for me and the boys!"
"Oh, love, I think you've had about enough," she replied sympathetically.
"Yeah, yeah, you're absolutely right," Hermione told her wearily. "I have. I have had enough." She trod on the hem of her robes, and then nearly fell.
Abruptly Ron was at her side, gripping her arm just above the elbow. Leading her out the front door, he mumbled, "Say good-night, 'Mione."
After they were outside, the redhead jerked her down the steps, saying angrily, "What gives you the right to treat them like a load of rubbish, like you're better than they are?!"
Hermione yanked herself away from him. "I am better than they are! I've made something of myself, I'm going places! Which is more than I can say for anyone else in this stupid town!"
Before Ron could reply, the tavern door banged again and Ginny appeared, holding out Hermione's handbag to her. The curly-haired witch staggered towards her sister-in-law, grabbed her bag, and started out into the street. She hadn't gotten very far before Ron grabbed onto her again, saying as he pulled her back up the steps, "No way am I letting you out alone to possibly kill yourself! We're getting some Floo and I'm taking you home."
Upon reaching the Three Broomsticks' door, they met up with Natalie, who'd just brushed outside to see where her date had gotten to.
Looking up at him as he reached for the doorknob, Natalie said softly to Ron, "So I guess that means the date's over, huh?"
"Yeah," he replied. "Sorry 'bout all of this."
Before Natalie could respond, however, Hermione took the opportunity to lean over and throw up.
***
Not long later, the fire in Mr. and Mrs. Granger's living room roared an emerald green, and few moments later Ron came stepping out of the fireplace, carrying a dead-asleep Hermione in his arms. She was curled up fetally against the redhead, and slowly he started through the house and down the hallway to Hermione's old bedroom to deposit her there, while John and Charlotte merely stood and stared.
***
The next thing Hermione knew, it was morning and she was back in her bedroom, her face pressed against the star-pattern bedspread. Rolling over, she felt as if the very life had been drained out of her, but didn't take the time to process it as her face met crisp sheets of parchment that had been laying against her pillow. Grabbing them, she sat up, her eyes resting on the signature at the bottom of one of the pages.
Ron Weasley.
Still extremely drowsy, Hermione slowly lifted her tired body from the bed, wobbling slightly as she stood up. Laying the scrolls on her desk, she shuffled herself out of her bedroom and down the hallway to the kitchen. Opening the cabinet, she took out a glass and filled it with water from the sink, and gulped it down. As she did so, from outside the window, she saw a large throng of witches and wizards trekking down the street, all wearing various Quidditch robes and rosettes of all different colors.
"Stars, Mum, what's going on out there?" Hermione asked Mrs. Granger, who was seated in the living room mending a seam on an old quilt.
"Heavenly glory, love, don't you remember? Today's the annual Hogsmeade Quidditch Festival," she replied, not taking her eyes away from her work.
"Oh, oh yeah," she murmured, refilling her glass as she continued to stare out the window, in which a pack of leprechaun came bustling down the road next, tumbling all over each other. Hermione rolled her eyes amusedly, despite her hangover. "I swear, Mum, not counting you and Dad, I'd say Muggles would practically need a passport to be visiting this place."
***
Later that afternoon, after Hermione had freshened up and changed clothes, she left her parents' home and started her long walk up the street. Crossing the next block, she quickened her pace, making her way to the next street after that until, at last, she found herself back in a familiar neighborhood. Trekking up to the end of the street, where Ron's grand old cottage sat on the hill, she spotted him right away, sitting on the front porch and polishing his Tsunami.
Gizmo was stretched out on the front step like he had been the last time Hermione had been by. Leaning over, she gave the furry cat an affectionate pat on the head, and then proceeded towards Ron, walking quietly across the wooden floor and where he was perched on a chair with his broomstick.
"I, uh, I put the gold back into your vault," she told him. "It's all there. Thought you might want to know."
"Yeah, thanks," he replied. There was a long pause between them, with Hermione merely watching him polish the Tsunami, before he spoke up again. " 'Mione. . .I signed your papers."
Hermione pulled up a chair and sat across from him. "Look, Ron, I - I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone. And I just want you to know how sorry I am about the other night."
At last he looked up, giving her a smile. "Yeah, well, thanks. And thanks for what you've done with the house. Should help it sell better."
Her brow furrowed. "You're moving?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "I spend a lot of my time all the way across town, so I thought maybe trying to get a place over that way, you know."
Hermione nodded. "Oh?"
"Yeah, you know. . .work, and all," He stammered, stepping out into the yard and mounting his broom. "Hey, er, I - I want to show you something."
She also got up, replacing the chair. Following him out into the grass, she said sheepishly, "I, um, I can't."
Ron half-smiled. "Can't? Or won't?"
"Well. . .sort of both," she admitted, adjusting the shoulder strap on her knapsack.
The redhead shook his head woefully. "That girl back at Hogwarts that I knew used to be fearless."
Hermione sighed. "That girl at Hogwarts didn't have a life."
"Shame. She would've killed you if she heard you say that," Ron grinned.
"I reckon so." There was a long pause between them again. "Well, I guess I'm. . .going to go. Just, er, thank you, Ron."
He looked back at her once more, simultaneously shrugging a stray lock of his red hair from his eyes. "You take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will," she replied, watching as Ron and his Tsunami sped off down the street.
***
To Be Continued