Chapter 2
A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading along and for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I hope you've enjoyed the start of this story so far! On to Chapter 2...
A special thank you to accio-broom for all of your eagle-eyed assistance!
September 15, 2012, 6:15pm
The cheese on top of the lasagna was bubbling and crispy, just the way I liked it. I pulled the large tray of meat lasagna out first and set it on a cork trivet before retrieving the second, smaller tray of vegetarian spinach lasagna from the oven. The kitchen smelled like a wonderful combination of tomatoes and cheese; in my mind, there was no better aroma.
It would need several minutes to cool, though, and I was sure that everyone was getting hungry in the other room. I laid out all of the bruschetta I had made previously onto a large platter, reserving one piece for Hermione. Balancing carefully, I carried the rest through the saloon-style doors and into the living room. Harry, Ginny, and a few other friends from work were gathered around the coffee table, all laughing and scrutinizing a board game. Two bottles of red wine already stood empty on the patterned rug, and everyone was holding a half-drained plastic wine cup.
"Appetizers, folks," I said, setting the platter down on a side table along with a stack of napkins.
"Look great, Ron, thanks!" Katie said, reaching for a piece.
"Sure thing."
Harry extracted himself from the game and motioned me towards the other side of the large room, creases of concern appearing on his forehead. Once we were out of earshot of the others, Harry leaned against the door frame of the guest bathroom and asked, "Is she here?"
"Yeah," I muttered, looking down at the ground.
"And? How's she look?"
I tossed my hands in the air, a resigned look of exasperation on my face. "I don't know. About the same as the last half-dozen times?"
Harry nodded, deep lines of concentration appearing on his face. "Does she want to join the party? She's a member of our team as well, right?"
"I'll see what she thinks…she looks pretty beat."
"Okay. I hope you don't mind that we started without you."
I rested my head against the wall and scratched the back of my neck. "No, it's fine. I'm going to sit with her for a while before I come back, see if she'll…I don't know, maybe open up a bit this time."
"You're a good friend, Ron. You might be a little bit whipped, but you're a good friend."
"Fuck you!" I answered back with a chuckle. "Not to mention, you're calling me whipped? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Remind me, what are you going to be wearing on your wedding day again? I'm sorry, let me clarify…on Ginny's wedding day?"
Harry grinned and shook his head. "I never should've told you about that. Not just because she's your sister, but because you won't let me hear the end of it. But at least I'm marrying her. I still have no idea what's going on between you and Hermione."
That was a complicated issue. Ever since she'd come back into my life just over eight months ago, we'd been spending a lot of time together, although almost exclusively at work. Once she had decided to move to Chicago, she'd shown up out of nowhere, burst into our apartment drunk, and asked about a job almost immediately. I remember being surprised; I'd figured that she'd made plenty of money over the past several years. At the time, though, Harry and I had been working for the Chicago branch of Cisco as cybersecurity experts for a couple of years, and we'd happened to have an opening. It was a low-level position, and Hermione was overqualified for it based on her undergraduate work, but the company was happy to have her. The work didn't seem to excite her that much, but she had shown up every day since the beginning of the year, and she did her job well.
That said, we hadn't done much together socially. She had rented a great apartment in the same neighborhood as us, and it was only five or six blocks away. We commuted to work on the same train, our cubicles were right next to each other, we would usually eat lunch together, and sometimes I'd accompany her on the commute back home. I loved that she always showed up at our office get-togethers, and she really got along well with everyone in our working group. But that had been about it. Sure, we'd get a cup of coffee or see a movie every now and then, but it didn't exactly feel like old times. She was usually too busy hanging out with her new friends, often showing up for our parties still exhausted from staying out late the night before.
"Nothing's going on, honestly. We're friends, we've always been friends. Clearly, she doesn't think about me like that anymore," I said, before adding, "Not…not that she ever did, really…I don't know."
Harry snickered at me. "Whatever you say, Ron."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Have you really forgotten that much of middle school? Or high school? Or even last week! She's never waited by my desk for me to go to lunch."
He wandered back into the living room, leaving his comment marinating in my brain.
No, no way. It's not like that. First of all, I'm not that lucky. Second…no, just no. If she had feelings for me…you know what, no, just shut the fuck up and get it out of your mind. If it didn't happen before, it's certainly not going to happen now.
I tried to clear my head as I ducked into the guest bathroom and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet before walking back to the kitchen. A cool mist hit my face as I opened the refrigerator and shoved aside containers of leftovers until I found what I was looking for.
"Ugh," I snorted, pulling a can of Coconut LaCroix from the back corner. I've never understood how she could drink this horrible concoction. Practically gagging, I picked up the small plate with her bruschetta on it and brought it all back into the dining room.
As I set everything down on the table, she was scrolling through her phone, a look of disgust on her face.
"This asshole still had the gall to tag me in his Facebook picture! 'Went out with TV's Dr. Celestina Warbeck'...what a dick!"
"Here," I said, opening the medicine bottle and setting two pills in front of her. "Take. You'll feel better."
She set her phone down, cracked open the can, and downed the medication with a swig of her drink. "Thanks. It's already getting a bit better, but I don't even remember what I drank last night, so God knows what the hangover is going to be like for the rest of the evening."
"I take it you don't want to join the party just yet?"
"I will, just…maybe give me a few minutes? Maybe I'll just eat here and then go in?"
"That's fine."
"I don't want to be antisocial, and I like these opportunities for us all to hang out together again, but just…in a few minutes."
June 16, 1998, 4:45pm
"What about this one, Harry?" Ron asked, holding up a tattered old hardcover book, its title indecipherable.
"Ummm…nah, deep storage."
"And this one? I'm sure you'll want this available," Hermione said, holding up a copy of The Hobbit.
"Yes, I love that book. That goes in the keeper box."
Eighth grade had finished a few days earlier. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had finally graduated from middle school and were set to be freshmen at Northville High in the fall. Over the past three years, the three of them had become inseparable. By sheer luck, they had been in the same classes on many occasions and had always had the same lunch period. Hermione had ingratiated herself to the boys by always being willing to share her dessert with them, not caring much for sweets herself. In return, Ron and Harry had been more than willing to trade her their cheese and vegetables, things that she continually tried to convince them were part of a healthy diet.
After school, the three friends, or "the trio" as they had started calling themselves, would often hang out together at the library or the mall. They would look through CDs at the music store, browse the bookshelves at the library or the bookstore, and split soft pretzels in the food court. Ron and Harry dragged Hermione to the arcade at least every other day, where, much to their chagrin, she had demonstrated an aptitude for many of the games. She had even beaten Ron at Mortal Kombat 2 one time, although Ron had insisted that he had been sick with a cold at the time and that it didn't count.
Four days into their summer vacation, they found themselves sitting in Harry's dark, cramped bedroom, sorting through his possessions. Harry hadn't stopped smiling for a week when he had heard that his godfather, a close friend of his deceased parents, was moving back to town and had offered him a place to live. Nobody needed to ask him twice; he had immediately jumped at the chance to get away from his horrible aunt and uncle. There weren't many possessions that he called his own, but he still needed to organize and sort through his things before he could formally move in with Sirius.
"You know, Harry, I think this is only…what, the third time I've ever been in your room?" Ron asked, counting on his fingers as he tried to remember.
"Something like that. I mean, why would you, though? Not exactly a hospitable place," Harry scoffed.
"I still remember the first time I came over. Hermione, this was long before you moved here. We were in third grade, I think. I rang the doorbell and your uncle opened the door in his boxers and nothing else."
"It's a miracle you stayed friends with me," Harry said, grinning at Ron.
"It's a miracle I didn't barf. From that day on, we usually hung out at my house."
"Of course. Much better food. Speaking of which, what are we having tonight?"
"I think Mom is making her famous lasagna since she knew you were coming over."
"What makes it famous?" Hermione chimed in as Harry started practically salivating beside her.
"Wait, have you never tried it?" Harry asked, staring at her wide-eyed over the rims of his glasses.
"I don't think so…"
"Ron, how has she eaten at your house that many times and never had the lasagna?"
Ron shrugged. "I don't know…bad timing I guess. Anyway, it's amazing. Mom always makes it at least five layers deep with tons of cheese and little pieces of meatball tucked in everywhere."
"It's the best. Better than any restaurant, guaranteed," Harry said, nodding in reply.
"I'm sure you're right," Hermione offered. "Everything I've had at your house has been amazing."
"Mom always goes a little overboard when she knows other people are coming over. It's not like that every day, though. Last night we just had boring soup."
"You don't know what boring food is, not until you've lived with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia," Harry lamented. "Limp salads every night, bland meat, crunchy potatoes…it's like they've never heard of flavor before. Fortunately, that won't be my problem much longer."
"Can Sirius cook?" Hermione asked.
"Good question. I kinda hope not. Then we can just get McDonald's and Little Caesars every night!"
Hermione threw him a sidelong glance, her eyebrows raised. "It wouldn't kill either of you to eat a vegetable every now and then. I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything green in the cafeteria for the last three years."
"Frizz, you know they let you count fries as a vegetable at school, right? Who would ever get wet broccoli when they could have fries?" Ron asked.
"And Pop-Tarts can count as a fruit, too!" Harry added.
"Besides, sour cream and onion chips have little green pieces on them. Does that count?"
"Ugh, you're both neanderthals," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "On that extremely depressing note, I have to go to the bathroom."
Ron and Harry snickered as she left the room, both still confused why she didn't understand the brilliance of their lunch menu manipulation. As they heard the door to the bathroom click shut, Ron leaned back and snuck a peek down the hallway, making sure she was actually inside.
"Hey, Harry," he whispered, "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."
"Shoot," Harry replied, cocking an eyebrow.
"Do you think…well, maybe you could hang back for a bit when we leave for my house?"
A devious grin spread across Harry's face. "Why's that, Ron?"
"I'm…kind of hoping you know why so I don't have to say it out loud."
Harry's eyes shot upward in thought before refocusing on Ron, now full of glee. "No, I think I'd like to hear you say it."
Ron reached out to punch Harry in the shoulder, but Harry was too quick for him and dodged it. "OK, fine. I would really like a moment alone with Hermione to talk with her about her summer plans."
"Because…"
"Because…I would kind of like to be included in those plans."
"Because…"
"Dammit, Harry!" Ron yelled before quieting his voice so that she wouldn't overhear. "Because…I don't know, because she's really fun to hang out with."
"I thought you liked hanging out with me the best."
"What?" Ron said with a furrowed brow.
"Should I be jealous?"
"Oh, shut up. Just…I think I hear her coming. Will you help me out?"
Harry laughed and nodded. "Sure, no problem."
Hermione re-entered the room and sat back down cross-legged in front of Harry's bookcase. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing," Ron said, his cheeks turning pink.
Hermione peered at him before turning her attention back to the shelves. "I think we're nearly there, Harry."
"Thanks to you guys. I really appreciate you helping me out. Especially since we were just freed from school a couple days ago."
"Of course, we're happy to do it, right Ron?"
"I mean, I would have rather gone to the mall…" Ron said, earning a punch in the shoulder from Harry. "Owww…but this was fine, too."
"Jerk," Harry replied with a smile.
"Pay no attention to him," Hermione said, frowning at Ron. "I, for one, am glad that your living situation will be improving soon, and, as your friend, I'm happy to help make that easier for you."
"Kiss ass," Ron muttered under his breath.
"Oh yeah? Well, you're unhelpful and a…a…a blockhead!"
Ron threw his head back and started laughing. "A blockhead?! How old are you? If I were you, I'd lay off the insults, Frizz; they're not your strong suit!"
Hermione sneered at him and crossed her arms over her chest, turning away and starting to work on clearing out football and baseball cards from under Harry's bed.
"Harry, would you like to keep these or put them in deep storage?" Hermione asked, still perturbed.
"Here," Harry said, sliding a cardboard box across the floor to him. "If you pile them in there, I'll figure it out."
Hermione nodded curtly and spun back around.
Harry reached out with his foot and kicked Ron in the shin. His face scrunched up in anger, Ron glared back at him, only to see Harry wide-eyed and mouthing something to him that he couldn't quite understand.
"Huh?" Ron whispered.
What are you doing? Harry mouthed again, his eyes flitting over to Hermione.
Ron smirked, prompting Harry to shake his head in disappointment towards his friend.
"I know what you two are doing back there," Hermione said. "Thank you for trying to knock some sense into him, Harry, but Ron can't help it, he's just an oaf sometimes."
"Okay, I'm sorry, Frizz, I shouldn't have-"
"That's not my name."
"Ugh. Fine. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry for calling you a kiss ass…"
He knew he should have stopped there, but he simply couldn't help himself.
"...even though you were absolutely being a kiss ass."
Hermione grabbed a pillow from Harry's bed, spun around, and threw it right at Ron. It caught him off guard and caused him to tumble backward, smacking the back of his head on the wall with a thud. Harry and Hermione both started roaring with laughter. At first, Ron looked upset and started winding up to throw the pillow back at her. As he watched his friends, though, he also spiraled into a fit of giggling along with them.
After a solid minute or two, Ron clutched his aching ribs with one hand and stuck the other out towards Hermione. "Even?" he asked.
"Almost," she said. She grinned back at him, her eyes full of tears from laughing so hard.
"How about if I tell Mom to give you the biggest piece tonight?"
"That's not fair; every piece is the biggest piece at your house," Hermione replied, drying her eyes on the short sleeves of her t-shirt.
"Okay, corner piece, then?"
"Deal," Hermione said, reaching out and shaking his hand.
"Now that that's settled," Harry started, "you two should take off. I have to finish one small project for my uncle, then I'll meet you over at Ron's."
"We can keep helping, Harry," Hermione suggested.
"You've been so helpful already, I'm not asking you to clean my uncle's attic. It's fine, I promise. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes or so."
"Alright, if you're sure. See you over there soon, then."
"We won't start without you," Ron added, giving Harry a subtle thumbs up after Hermione rounded the corner out of the room.
The warm evening sun was refreshing as they exited the house and started walking down the sidewalk towards Ron's house.
"So, corner piece, huh?" he said, suddenly realizing that his brain was having difficulty finding things to say.
"Of course. Everyone knows the corner piece is the best," Hermione answered.
"Oh, I've known the corner piece is the best all along. That's why I'm glad that there are multiple corner pieces. Even if you get one, there's still a good chance I will, too."
Hermione chuckled as they sauntered through the neighborhood. Ron tried to determine whether the subsequent silence was awkward or not, but there was nothing he could do about it as his mind was coming up empty for new topics.
"I wanted to thank you, you know," Hermione finally said as they rounded the corner onto Peachtree Street. "For joining my club during the year."
"No problem," he replied, clearing his throat. "It was a great idea for a club. We didn't, uhhh, have anything like that before."
"Saving the planet is really important to me, and I appreciate your participation. Even though we didn't recruit too many new members, I think we were really able to start important conversations and change some minds this past year, and that wouldn't have been possible without your help. So…thanks, I guess."
"You don't have to thank me, I was happy to be there." Ron knew that he didn't have the same passion for animals and the environment as Hermione, but he really liked having the opportunity to spend time with her outside of the classroom. Seeing as how he was the only permanent member of the club besides her, it often meant one-on-one time. Thursday afternoons at three o'clock had become his favorite time of the week.
"So…what are your plans this summer? Are you just kind of…around?" he asked.
"Well, I thought I would be, but my parents told me earlier today that we're going to be visiting France in a week or so!"
"Oh, that's great, I know you miss it there," he said, remembering how often she talked about her time in Paris.
She flashed him a reserved smile. "Sometimes. Although I'm growing to love it here, too."
"How long will you be there? A week or so?"
"Actually," Hermione said, all of a sudden avoiding eye contact, "we're going to be gone for six weeks. A month in Paris and another week or so in the southern part of the country by the sea."
"Wow! That…that's great!" Masking his disappointment was difficult, but he tried to keep his expression upbeat.
"I was trying to find the right time to tell you both, but it just never came. Sorry to kind of…spring it on you like this. It'll be a fantastic trip, but…well, I'll miss you while I'm gone…and Harry. Both of you. I was looking forward to hanging out with you this summer."
"Oh…that's okay. You see us all year; what's a month or so, right?" he replied, staring at the cement sidewalk and continuing to feign excitement.
But Hermione seemed to catch on, looking back at him with her lips pulled in with sympathy. "But we'll be back for the last two weeks of summer! And I'll bring you something, I promise."
"Some of those pastries you always talk about?"
"Something like that," she laughed.
"Excellent. That really does sound like an awesome trip. That said, I'll mis-, er, we'll miss you too."
Ron looked over and thought he saw her ears glow pink, but convinced himself it was just the way the sun was hitting her face.
"And we'll still have a couple weeks after you get back, right?" he continued. "We'll have a big welcome back dinner on your first night back in town."
Hermione smiled at him and nodded. "That sounds nice."
They were halfway through discussing a menu for Hermione's welcome home party as they strolled through the back door and into the kitchen of the Weasley's house.
"The corn is fine, but I draw the line at zucchini. It's so…slimy," he said.
"Zucchini is delicious, especially around that time of year!" she argued. "And besides, corn doesn't even really count as a vegetable."
"It grows in the ground, doesn't it? You buy it in the vegetable part of the store, don't you?"
"You're hopeless."
"Good, you're back, I'll need your help getting ready," Mrs. Weasley said as she bustled into the room. She was wearing a stained beige apron with the phrase "Magic in the Kitchen" embroidered on the front and moved with the confident quickness of a seasoned home cook around the bright, moderately-sized space. "Ron, where's Harry?"
"He'll be here in fifteen minutes or so, can we hold off until then?"
"That's fine, dear, your father isn't home yet, either. Good evening, Hermione! I hope you've brought your appetite!"
"I always do, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione answered. "Everything smells amazing, I can't wait!"
Mrs. Weasley smiled at her and handed Ron a large stack of plates with silverware piled on top. Hermione helped him set the long wooden table and pour drinks for everyone. Every time she turned her back, Ron would try to sneak another taste of the stack of garlic bread already cooling on a large platter.
A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley arrived and dropped his briefcase next to the door. "Evening, Weasleys!" he called.
"Hi, Dad," Ron replied.
"Ahh, lasagna. Mom has been busy indeed. Smells wonderful, Molly."
"Upstairs and change, please, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley replied. "We'll be eating in a few minutes as soon as Harry arrives. Poor boy needs a good meal any chance he gets…"
As Mr. Weasley headed up to his bedroom, Harry walked in the back door, greeted immediately by Mrs. Weasley with a big hug.
"Ronald, please come and bring the lasagnas out to the table! It's almost time to eat!" his mother asked as she mixed a large salad together. Once everything was on the table, Mrs. Weasley called the family down. Seconds later, a thundering sound crescendoed as five more Weasleys rushed down the stairs and arranged themselves around the big table.
"Umm, sorry. It's kind of like a stampede at dinner time," Ron said as he sat down next to Hermione.
"Honestly? I love it. Dinner time at my house is just my parents and me. Sometimes it feels very sterile if you know what I mean. Very formal and quiet. Almost too quiet sometimes."
"Ha, we don't have that problem here."
"I'm with you, Hermione," Harry said, "Dinners with the Dursleys could do with some energy. This is much better."
Mrs. Weasley stood at the head of the table and served everyone. The plates could barely contain the huge slices of lasagna, strings of cheese hanging off its edges.
As Hermione took her first bite, her eyes rolled back in her head and she turned toward Ron's mom. "Mrs. Weasley, this is delicious!"
"Thank you, dear, I'm glad you like it! It's my mother's recipe, and she got it from her mother. Someday, if any of these kids take an interest in cooking, I'll pass it down to them, too." she replied, looking around one by one at her offspring.
"Not me," Ron muttered under his breath to his friends.
"Yes, you, Ronald," his mother answered, ignoring the look of shock on Ron's face that she had managed to overhear him. "By the time you leave this house, you'll know how to make a top-notch lasagna."
The conversation continued as everyone cleaned their plates, some even going back for seconds. Ron even contemplated a third slice at one point, but Hermione reminded him of the time he threw up at school after having an extra sloppy joe, and he decided against it.
Hermione marveled to Ron about how freely and openly everyone talked over dinner. She said she found it to be a delightful change from the strict atmosphere in her family's dining room, where she practically felt as though she needed to raise her hand to speak. Dinner at Ron's reminded her of lunch in the school cafeteria in the best way possible.
Once the meal was complete, Harry and Hermione said thank you and goodbye to everyone and walked out the back door with Ron.
"See you tomorrow?" Ron asked them. "Or are you busy?"
"Not sure," Harry said, "I think Sirius is supposed to come by and take me over to see his new place, but I don't know when."
"Okay, well call me after if you're around. Frizz, you?"
"Sure, I've got a few days before my parents start making me pack for our trip."
"Excellent," Ron said, his face lighting up. "Call me when you're awake?"
"Sounds good!"
"See you both tomorrow!" Harry said as he zipped through the backyard and down the street.
Hermione meandered in the opposite direction, stopping to admire the garden in the back of the house. Ron's heart beat particularly hard as he realized that this was his chance to spend more time with her without Harry. Pulling on his shoes, he stepped back outside and tried to calm his nerves.
"Hey, Frizz…you want me to walk you home?"
"It's like five minutes away and it's still light out…"
"You're sure? It's a pretty dangerous neighborhood," he said, smiling at her.
"It's quite possibly the least dangerous neighborhood in the country."
"Okay, just thought I'd offer," he said with a shrug, hoping his red cheeks weren't that obvious.
"That's very sweet, Ron, but I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow, though?" she said, waving as she disappeared around the side of the house.
Ron dragged himself back in the back door, his head hanging low. His mood didn't improve when he saw that his older brothers were just inside. It was a foregone conclusion that he was in for a dose of ridicule.
"Smooth move, little bro," Fred said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, it's a miracle her pants didn't fall right off in the backyard," George added.
"Shut up, I wasn't trying a move," Ron sneered.
"Correction, you weren't trying a good move. It was a move, just…a pathetic one," Fred replied, a huge smile on his face.
"Hey, where's your girlfriend been lately? Oh, that's right, you don't have one!" Ron spat back.
"Just wait til you get to high school, little brother. We do just fine, you'll see," George bragged.
"Whatever. I was just trying to be a good friend."
"When's the last time you walked Harry home?" Fred asked with a snicker.
"That's true, Fred, I can't recall either. No, it seems like our little boy is finally growing up and has his first crush."
"Good point, Georgie. I think Ronnie wants Hermione to be his girlfriend."
"She's just my friend, I don't want her to be my girlfriend. Just leave me alone!" Ron yelled as he pushed past them and bolted up the stairs to his room.
September 15, 2012, 6:25pm
"Mmm, this is delicious, thank you, Ron," Hermione said, her mouth full of bruschetta.
"My pleasure, Frizz," I said as I sat down next to her again.
She took another big sip of her drink and looked at me, her head tilted to the side. "Why do you still have Coconut? I thought you hate this stuff?"
"I do hate that stuff, it's absolutely vile."
"Then why do you keep it in your fridge?"
"Because you like it."
She glanced at me and rolled her eyes before taking another drink. "I don't understand how a person can hate this flavor. It tastes like a piña colada. It reminds me of the last time I was in Hawaii."
"I think it reminds you of that trip because it tastes like sunscreen, but to each their own."
"Something is wrong with your taste buds. By the way, don't let me keep you. I don't need a babysitter here."
"I'm fine, they're all in the middle of a game anyway. Plus, I have to cut up the lasagna soon."
"You really do go into full host mode during these things, don't you?" she asked, grinning at me with the can perched on her lips.
"Hey! I'm not that bad! I just…I want to make sure everyone's fed. I blame my mother for instilling that trait in me."
"Your mother's portion sizes were legendary. I can't even count how many times I wasn't able to eat breakfast the next morning after dinner at your house."
"Strange, I never had that problem."
"Of course not, you've always been a bottomless pit," she said with a wink.
"Not anymore. I only eat that way when I'm back home for the holidays. Or when Mom sends us home with stuff."
"But then you have to share with Ginny."
"Trust me, there's still plenty."
Ginny had been eating at our apartment a lot lately. Ever since she and Harry had gotten engaged the previous fall, she had been here most nights. The only time we didn't see her was when she had a game the next day. As the star striker for the Chicago Red Stars women's soccer team, she was a bit of a local celebrity, something that she liked to remind me of every chance she got. It didn't really bother me, but it was still somewhat demoralizing to see people coming up to my baby sister and asking for her autograph all the time. Even though I never considered myself someone who sought fame, I'd be lying to say I wasn't jealous of all the free drinks she got any time we went to the bar.
"You want to know the truth? I think you make some of your mom's recipes even better than her," Hermione said.
"I wouldn't tell her that."
"Nonsense, she'd be proud, don't you think? Besides, those cooking skills can't hurt with the ladies, either. Hoping to get noticed by someone in there?" she hinted, her eyes flicking back and forth between me and the living room.
I laughed and shook my head, staring down at the table out of embarrassment. "No, nothing like that."
"Ahh, I see," she said, wincing. "Sore subject…"
"No, just…nothing to tell. I've been there long enough to know most of the people, and I think they're all nice colleagues and nothing more."
"You've been there…three years? You did tell me at one point, but I have a horrible memory." Hermione asked, flecks of crispy toast shooting out of her mouth as she talked.
"Wow, it's been four years now. Time really flies when you're…well, when you have a crappy job, I guess."
"I know it's been challenging recently, especially with the new project. But it's not all bad, is it?"
"It's fine," Ron replied, picking crumbs off the tablecloth. "Just…fine."
"I know that look. You don't like it there anymore, do you? Don't tell me you're thinking about leaving. You're the only reason that place is tolerable!"
"Harry works there too, you know," I reminded her with a smirk.
"Yeah, he does. And I love Harry, I really do, but everything is about the wedding with him lately. It's a little annoying."
"Harry's my best friend, and I'm happy for him and Ginny, of course…but I know what you mean. I feel horrible saying it out loud, but it's not like it's my wedding. I have no idea what he's talking about with all of the invitations, flower choices, and dinner options…actually, never mind, they brought me along to help pick that last one. That was pretty great."
Hermione smiled back at me as she popped the last bite of bruschetta into her mouth. "Ron Weasley would never turn down free food."
"You're probably right."
"But honestly, you're scaring me. Are you thinking about leaving Cisco?" she asked, her brow furrowed. I had to convince myself that she had no ulterior motive for asking about my plans, but it was difficult to suppress the smile trying to creep onto my face as I considered it.
"No, not really," I answered, my gaze snapping back to her. "It's just…not exactly what I thought it would be, you know? As idealistic and naive as it sounds, I thought I'd be helping to safeguard real people. Fighting for the little guy. Instead, I spend my days making sure that extremely rich assholes in charge of multinational conglomerates don't lose any money or business. If I fail, they're still extremely rich, and they're definitely still assholes, but they're also pissed at me. And if I succeed, nobody notices because that's how it's supposed to be. So it's starting to feel like a lose-lose situation."
"Have you talked about this with Harry? I know you love working with him, but maybe he's thinking the same thing?"
"Nah, he seems to like it. I think he enjoys the challenge, the puzzle of it more than anything. Besides, he's getting married soon. He wouldn't risk his financial stability before the wedding."
"That makes sense," she said, her eyes trailing away from me and back to the front window.
"What about you?" I asked. My heart was beating harder in anticipation of her answer. "I mean…do you really like working there? Do you see yourself staying there?"
Hermione's finger tapped on her chin as she considered her answer. "Most of it is all right. Kind of boring, but whatever. I mean, the reason I like working there is because you and Harry are there, and it's nice to spend time with you both again. Even though we're three hundred miles from where we grew up, it still felt like a homecoming when I started at Cisco. The trio, back together again."
I breathed a slight sigh of relief, but a bittersweet one. "Well, as much as I agree that it's been great for all of us to be reunited, and as much as I love seeing you at the office every day, I hope you're not just staying because of us. You should be doing what you want to do."
"Let's not start again on what I should or shouldn't be doing, okay?" she said her head falling into her open palm as her eyes rolled up and under her eyelids.
"You're right, I'm sorry. It's not my place. I'll stop meddling. But you don't have to worry that we only hang out because we work together."
"Who knows, though, right? Harry's getting married soon, so he'll be busy doing…married stuff, probably. If you left the company, too…it's selfish of me, I know, but I can't help but think about how lonely it would get."
"You're very introspective when you're hungover, you know that?" I said, elbowing her arm.
"Oh, fuck off. Fine, never mind. Forget I said anything," she ranted, turning her back to me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…no, I'm sorry for being a dick again. It's just my way."
"Pretty shitty way, don't you think?"
"I do, and I'm sorry," I said, stifling a laugh under my breath. "But I still think you're worrying about nothing, Frizz. I'm not going anywhere, Harry's not going anywhere…you're kind of stuck with us whether you like it or not."
She turned back, uneasiness replacing the anger in her expression. "I'm serious, Ron. I know I make it seem like I have this…exciting social life, but, as you could probably tell based on my ride tonight, they're all vapid idiots. Peripheral friends of friends from my past, for the most part. I don't have that many actual friends here. People I go out with, maybe, but not real friends…like you."
"In that case, can I ask you a question that may make you a little upset?"
The muscles in her face tensed as she clenched her jaw and waved me off. "I already know what you're going to say. And, honestly, sometimes I don't know why I still hang out with them. I think I'm just…still stuck in the past, maybe? Or trying to relive my glory years? I wish I had an answer."
"Well, for what it's worth, I don't have a particularly exciting life outside of work, so you can always call me if you want a break from all that," I said, standing up next to her and pulling her into my side. "And you don't have to worry about me not being around. It doesn't matter if we work together or not. I'll always have time for you. I promise."
A smile spread onto Hermione's face as her arm snaked around my back and gave me a squeeze. "Thanks, Ron."
"Now, are you still hungry? I think it's time for the main event."
"Starving…"