Chapter 10: Tears and Tea
-R-
I awoke the next afternoon after a night of restless sleep. Not feeling like facing anyone, I lock mye door to be alone with my memories, which are many.
"How could you to this to me?" I ask the picture of Hermione and me in Gladrags, which is now laying on the floor, the glass of the frame broken, severing the space between mine and Hermione's faces. "Why now, Hermione, just when things are relatively peaceful? Why, when we can be together for the rest of our lives? Just, why?"
I feel the tears burning behind my eyes, but I hold them back. The anger within me is melting into heartache as I reminisce. . . .
*Flashback*
After Harry left with the Dursleys from platform nine-and-three-quarters at the end of fourth year, Hermione turned to me, smiling broadly. I felt a strange urge just then to kiss her.
'Ron, you can't think about her that way!' I mentally scold myself. 'She's your best friend!' But I couldn't convince myself to force the thoughts from my head.
I imagined myself sweeping her into my muscular arms, the wind whipping at our hair and robes just as I had seen once on the cover of a Muggle romance novel. Her cloak hanging from her shoulders sensually, she put her hands on my bare chest and gazed up into my eyes.
"Oh, Ron!" the imagined Hermione said. "Kiss me!" My imagined self leaned down, pulling her closer, and kissed her neck repeatedly. She closed her eyes in rapture and whispered, "Ron . . . Ron . . . Ron . . ."
"Ron!" The real Hermione stared up at me, puzzled.
I cleared my throat nervously and stood there awkwardly, as if she could have seen my thoughts. "S-Sorry . . . I-I just . . ." I stuttered incoherently, evoking an even more confused stare from her.
"Hermione!" I looked over her shoulder at the same time she did and saw Hermione's parents. Dr. Granger was smiling warmly and beckoning to his daughter. She turned from looking at her father and back to me, smiling. Reaching up, she put her arms around my neck in a nice, friendly hug.
"I'll send you an owl from Bulgaria," she said, pulling back and smiling, not yet letting go of me.
My happiness at being so close to her left abruptly. "Y-You're going? B-But . . ." I couldn't think of anything to say, so I let slip the only two words permeating my mind. "Don't go." She furrowed her eyebrows, loosening her grip on my neck. But I held onto her waist all the tighter. "Please, Hermione." I said it with such pleading that her expression softened immediately and, to my delight, she tightened her grip on my neck once again.
"I was only joking, Ron. I already told Viktor that I couldn't go."
"Hermione!" Dr. Granger called again. "Hurry up and say goodbye to your boyfriend! We need to go!"
Hermione blushed fiercely, releasing me and looking down. "He's not my boyfriend," she muttered to her feet. Looking back up to me, still beet-red, she stood on her tiptoes, put her hands on my chest, and leaned in to kiss my cheek, as she had done to Harry.
From then on, everything was in slow motion. As she grew closer to my cheek, I gathered my Gryffindor courage and turned my face the few inches it took to brush my lips against hers. She pulled back quickly, said a quiet, "'Bye, Ron," and hurried away to her father. I smiled after her dreamily.
Thankfully, no one had seen the kiss, our first kiss.
*End Flashback*
I pull myself from the bed and kneel down beside the photograph in the broken frame, careful to avoid the glass. Gingerly picking it up and shaking the glass from it, I gaze down at Hermione as she wraps her arms around me, smiles, kisses me, wraps her arms around me, smiles, kisses me . . .
Finally, I allow the tears to fall, splashing onto the photograph, blurring the picture of happiness that had once been Hermione and me.
~H~
"So, you have taken care of the catering and food arrangements already, Narcissa?" Mum and Mrs. Malfoy discuss the arrangements regarding Draco's and my wedding. We sit off to the side, allowing our mums to do the bulk of the work.
Though I'm supposed to be listening to and participating in the planning, my mind is wandering. Draco is holding my right hand, leaving me to marvel at the beautiful wedding ring on my left. The opalesque stone shimmers in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.
"Yes, I have an acquaintance who is in the business, and he has agreed to help us," Mrs. Malfoy is saying.
"Perfect! So I'll prepare the location and deal with the dresses and suits. Have we got everything covered then?"
I look up to Draco lovingly and ask, "Where did you get this ring, darling? It's positively lovely!"
Having obviously been deep in thought, Draco blinks rapidly and looks absently at me. "What? What ring?"
I hold up my left hand and wiggle the ring with my thumb. "This ring!"
He looks at my finger, furrowing his fine, blonde eyebrows. Then his eyes widen and he says, "Oh! Um . . . some jewelry shop in . . . France. I don't really remember." Then he suddenly becomes very interested in the plans being made by our mums.
I shrug and tune back in also.
After a few more minutes, Mrs. Malfoy stands up and offers us after-dinner tea. I stand also and follow her into the kitchen to help. She sets to boiling the water as I pull four teacups and saucers from the cupboard. With my back turned to her, I hear her mutter some words under her breath.
I turn around, setting down the porcelain ware. "Pardon?"
She smiles, hurriedly pulling her hand from her apron pocket. "Nothing, dear. Hand me the tea leaves, would you?"
I look at the kettle on the stove, shocked to see that steam is already rising from the spout. Puzzling over how the water could be boiling so quickly, I make to hand her a package of tea leaves.
In midstep, I feel a warm wetness on my face which drips onto my lips. I lick at it instinctively, finding a salty taste. Simultaneously, I see the image of a redhead and hear the words, "But you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete. When I'm with you, I forget all the darkness in my life. You are my light, my life, my love. Hermione Ann Granger, will you accept my proposal and be my wife?"
For some reason, I feel a connection to this strange redhead. My left ring finger starts to tingle as those words are repeated over and over in my mind. ". . . you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete . . . you are my light, my life, my love . . . will you accept my proposal and be my wife? . . . the most wonderful . . . most complete . . . accept my proposal . . . my wife . . ."
"Hermione? Dear, are you all right?" Mrs. Malfoy puts a hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie.
"Yes, I'm . . . fine. Here, let me handle this. You go back out there. I'm fine, really!" I add, seeing her hesitation.
"If you insist, but --"
"I do! Please, I'm fine." I turn and busy myself with pouring the still-boiling water in four cups, placing tea leaves in each and stirring. Knowing that Draco likes lemon in his tea, I find a slice and squeeze the sour juice into his cup.
I place the cups, teapot, and sugar on one of Mrs. Malfoy's nice sterling silver trays, then reenter the sitting room. I distribute the cups, handing the one with lemon to Draco. Setting down the tray, I sit next to him on the sofa. He takes a sip, immediately spitting out the tea, wipes his mouth, and demands of me in disgust, "What is in this?"
Startled, I set down my cup on my saucer and reply, "Lemon, darling. You like lemon in your tea."
He stares at me incredulously. "I *hate* lemon! You must have me confused with that We--"
He stops abruptly, glancing to Mum and Mrs. Malfoy. Setting down his cup and saucer onto the end table beside him, he smiles and takes my hands in his. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to yell at you. Come, it's probably time we returned home anyway." He stood and went to his mother, kissing her cheek. "Thank you for having us, Mother."
"It was my pleasure, Draco."
He nods and leads me to the door, Mum following, and we enter the car.
As we travel home, I wander about the vision I had in the kitchen. 'Who was that redhead? Why did my ring tingle? Why did those words sound so familiar?'
-R-
I awoke the next afternoon after a night of restless sleep. Not feeling like facing anyone, I lock mye door to be alone with my memories, which are many.
"How could you to this to me?" I ask the picture of Hermione and me in Gladrags, which is now laying on the floor, the glass of the frame broken, severing the space between mine and Hermione's faces. "Why now, Hermione, just when things are relatively peaceful? Why, when we can be together for the rest of our lives? Just, why?"
I feel the tears burning behind my eyes, but I hold them back. The anger within me is melting into heartache as I reminisce. . . .
*Flashback*
After Harry left with the Dursleys from platform nine-and-three-quarters at the end of fourth year, Hermione turned to me, smiling broadly. I felt a strange urge just then to kiss her.
'Ron, you can't think about her that way!' I mentally scold myself. 'She's your best friend!' But I couldn't convince myself to force the thoughts from my head.
I imagined myself sweeping her into my muscular arms, the wind whipping at our hair and robes just as I had seen once on the cover of a Muggle romance novel. Her cloak hanging from her shoulders sensually, she put her hands on my bare chest and gazed up into my eyes.
"Oh, Ron!" the imagined Hermione said. "Kiss me!" My imagined self leaned down, pulling her closer, and kissed her neck repeatedly. She closed her eyes in rapture and whispered, "Ron . . . Ron . . . Ron . . ."
"Ron!" The real Hermione stared up at me, puzzled.
I cleared my throat nervously and stood there awkwardly, as if she could have seen my thoughts. "S-Sorry . . . I-I just . . ." I stuttered incoherently, evoking an even more confused stare from her.
"Hermione!" I looked over her shoulder at the same time she did and saw Hermione's parents. Dr. Granger was smiling warmly and beckoning to his daughter. She turned from looking at her father and back to me, smiling. Reaching up, she put her arms around my neck in a nice, friendly hug.
"I'll send you an owl from Bulgaria," she said, pulling back and smiling, not yet letting go of me.
My happiness at being so close to her left abruptly. "Y-You're going? B-But . . ." I couldn't think of anything to say, so I let slip the only two words permeating my mind. "Don't go." She furrowed her eyebrows, loosening her grip on my neck. But I held onto her waist all the tighter. "Please, Hermione." I said it with such pleading that her expression softened immediately and, to my delight, she tightened her grip on my neck once again.
"I was only joking, Ron. I already told Viktor that I couldn't go."
"Hermione!" Dr. Granger called again. "Hurry up and say goodbye to your boyfriend! We need to go!"
Hermione blushed fiercely, releasing me and looking down. "He's not my boyfriend," she muttered to her feet. Looking back up to me, still beet-red, she stood on her tiptoes, put her hands on my chest, and leaned in to kiss my cheek, as she had done to Harry.
From then on, everything was in slow motion. As she grew closer to my cheek, I gathered my Gryffindor courage and turned my face the few inches it took to brush my lips against hers. She pulled back quickly, said a quiet, "'Bye, Ron," and hurried away to her father. I smiled after her dreamily.
Thankfully, no one had seen the kiss, our first kiss.
*End Flashback*
I pull myself from the bed and kneel down beside the photograph in the broken frame, careful to avoid the glass. Gingerly picking it up and shaking the glass from it, I gaze down at Hermione as she wraps her arms around me, smiles, kisses me, wraps her arms around me, smiles, kisses me . . .
Finally, I allow the tears to fall, splashing onto the photograph, blurring the picture of happiness that had once been Hermione and me.
~H~
"So, you have taken care of the catering and food arrangements already, Narcissa?" Mum and Mrs. Malfoy discuss the arrangements regarding Draco's and my wedding. We sit off to the side, allowing our mums to do the bulk of the work.
Though I'm supposed to be listening to and participating in the planning, my mind is wandering. Draco is holding my right hand, leaving me to marvel at the beautiful wedding ring on my left. The opalesque stone shimmers in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.
"Yes, I have an acquaintance who is in the business, and he has agreed to help us," Mrs. Malfoy is saying.
"Perfect! So I'll prepare the location and deal with the dresses and suits. Have we got everything covered then?"
I look up to Draco lovingly and ask, "Where did you get this ring, darling? It's positively lovely!"
Having obviously been deep in thought, Draco blinks rapidly and looks absently at me. "What? What ring?"
I hold up my left hand and wiggle the ring with my thumb. "This ring!"
He looks at my finger, furrowing his fine, blonde eyebrows. Then his eyes widen and he says, "Oh! Um . . . some jewelry shop in . . . France. I don't really remember." Then he suddenly becomes very interested in the plans being made by our mums.
I shrug and tune back in also.
After a few more minutes, Mrs. Malfoy stands up and offers us after-dinner tea. I stand also and follow her into the kitchen to help. She sets to boiling the water as I pull four teacups and saucers from the cupboard. With my back turned to her, I hear her mutter some words under her breath.
I turn around, setting down the porcelain ware. "Pardon?"
She smiles, hurriedly pulling her hand from her apron pocket. "Nothing, dear. Hand me the tea leaves, would you?"
I look at the kettle on the stove, shocked to see that steam is already rising from the spout. Puzzling over how the water could be boiling so quickly, I make to hand her a package of tea leaves.
In midstep, I feel a warm wetness on my face which drips onto my lips. I lick at it instinctively, finding a salty taste. Simultaneously, I see the image of a redhead and hear the words, "But you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete. When I'm with you, I forget all the darkness in my life. You are my light, my life, my love. Hermione Ann Granger, will you accept my proposal and be my wife?"
For some reason, I feel a connection to this strange redhead. My left ring finger starts to tingle as those words are repeated over and over in my mind. ". . . you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete . . . you are my light, my life, my love . . . will you accept my proposal and be my wife? . . . the most wonderful . . . most complete . . . accept my proposal . . . my wife . . ."
"Hermione? Dear, are you all right?" Mrs. Malfoy puts a hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie.
"Yes, I'm . . . fine. Here, let me handle this. You go back out there. I'm fine, really!" I add, seeing her hesitation.
"If you insist, but --"
"I do! Please, I'm fine." I turn and busy myself with pouring the still-boiling water in four cups, placing tea leaves in each and stirring. Knowing that Draco likes lemon in his tea, I find a slice and squeeze the sour juice into his cup.
I place the cups, teapot, and sugar on one of Mrs. Malfoy's nice sterling silver trays, then reenter the sitting room. I distribute the cups, handing the one with lemon to Draco. Setting down the tray, I sit next to him on the sofa. He takes a sip, immediately spitting out the tea, wipes his mouth, and demands of me in disgust, "What is in this?"
Startled, I set down my cup on my saucer and reply, "Lemon, darling. You like lemon in your tea."
He stares at me incredulously. "I *hate* lemon! You must have me confused with that We--"
He stops abruptly, glancing to Mum and Mrs. Malfoy. Setting down his cup and saucer onto the end table beside him, he smiles and takes my hands in his. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to yell at you. Come, it's probably time we returned home anyway." He stood and went to his mother, kissing her cheek. "Thank you for having us, Mother."
"It was my pleasure, Draco."
He nods and leads me to the door, Mum following, and we enter the car.
As we travel home, I wander about the vision I had in the kitchen. 'Who was that redhead? Why did my ring tingle? Why did those words sound so familiar?'