I Thee Wed
Chapter Three:
In Which There is Choking
Author's Note: So…oops? I know this was long in coming, guys, and I'm sorry. I won't give you excuses, though, but will let you get on to the story. Also, I'm on a bit of "West Wing" kick right now, so I think my dialogues have been unduly affected by it. It's the best show in the world, by the way. Josh and Donna are the Ron and Hermione of the White House.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters here except for the ones you've never heard of before. They're mine. Buah. Don't feel bad, though, you probably won't want them.
***
Speak when you are angry—and you will make the best speech you'll ever regret.
Laurence J. Peter
***
Ron let the door swing open on its own accord, not bothering to hold it open for Harry once he'd turned the knob. Without even looking at his friend he walked back to the kitchen and started to rummage through Hermione's cabinets.
"Ron?" Harry's voice betrayed him. He knew something was wrong, and he wanted to know what.
The redhead turned around to face the questions he knew awaited him. He didn't bother trying to keep secrets from Harry anymore; the endeavor was a pointless one. Hermione had once said that Ron had a personality that resembled a difficult textbook: Anybody could read it, some could understand it, but only few had ever been capable of memorizing it.
Harry was one of those few.
"Harry, why did you let me take Hermione home last night?" Ron finally asked.
Harry looked as if he had not been expecting to be questioned. A moment passed and his confusion turned into annoyance. "I didn't let you leave, you left while I was busy de-animalizing my apartment."
"Is that a word?"
"That's not the point. But no."
Ron nodded thoughtfully. The two men stared at each other for a while, neither wanting to pursue the conversation that awaited them.
"So," Harry said, taking a seat on a nearby stool. "Did something happen between the two of you?"
Ron choked on the tea he'd just poured for himself. "That's an understatement," he managed to gasp out.
"So, you…" Harry trailed off and looked towards Hermione's bedroom door, trying not to look like he wanted to gag. Over and over and over and over…
"All evidence points to yes," Ron said slowly.
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "You don't know?"
"Well, we were pretty out there," Ron conceded, coupling the statement with a flamboyant hand gesture.
Harry ignored the gesture and moved on. "You think it was a mistake?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Ron gasped. "Do you know something I don't know? Did somebody tell you I wouldn't think something like this would be a mistake if it happened? Harry?"
Plucking at the collar of his robes, Harry muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that?"
Harry sighed. "Let's face it Ron, you two have had something between you ever since school. How could you blame me for not being surprised?"
"We don't have something," Ron argued. "We're friends. At least, we were friends. Now we're bloody man and wife."
Green eyes grew to twice their normal size. "You're—you're what?"
Ron's temper was extinguished instantly. "Did I forget to mention that?" he said weakly.
"I'd say so!"
"Right then," Ron amended. "Hermione and I got married."
Harry looked as if somebody had just told him his Firebolt was actually a Shooting Star in disguise. "Are you sure? I mean, you didn't remember…er…the other thing, so how'd you remember this?"
"We don't. But it's pretty hard to ignore the ring that's stuck to my bloody finger!" He held his hand up for inspection.
"Wow." Harry let his eyes trail to Hermione's door again. "How's she taking all of this?"
Now it was Ron's turn to mumble something unintelligible.
"She swapped you?" Harry asked. "For who?" Never before had a conversation with Ron been so confusing, and there had been some doozies.
"She slapped me!" Ron hissed, feeling his cheeks gather heat. "I made a comment about Dylan and she got a bit shirty." Ron forgot to add that she probably had every right to be.
"I almost forgot about that bloke," Harry admitted. Ron felt a bit better after hearing Harry's tone. At least Dylan wasn't taking over all of his friendships. "Has she told him yet?"
"No, and I'm not going to." Hermione's entrance to the room had gone undetected, so her outburst was enough to make both men jump. Ron choked on his tea again.
Harry looked at her with something akin to disbelief. "So what are you going to tell him?"
"Nothing. I'll put a charm on my hand that will make the ring invisible to the human eye." Logic it seemed, had finally managed to take a hold on Hermione.
"Can't you just take it off?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head from left to right wildly, indicating that this subject was not a good one. "So you're just going to pretend none of this ever happened?"
"Of course not," Hermione huffed, coming farther into the kitchen. Ron noted with not a little bit of guilt that her eyes were red and puffy. He knew he should apologize, but couldn't find the words. Maybe there were no words for any of this. Well, maybe "insane" would do it. Suddenly, Ron realized Hermione had said something else.
"What?"
"I said we're going to get divorced. I'll go to my lawyer tomorrow and get all of this worked out. Nobody outside of this room will ever have to know about what's happened. And say 'pardon' Ron, not 'what'."
"The press would have a field day," Harry interrupted as Ron began to sputter. Neither of his friends noticed the way he cringed as he spoke.
Ron was staring at the ceiling when Hermione turned to him for confirmation of her plan. She wasn't very happy with him at the moment, but he was just as big a part of the problem as she was, and had to be included. Gone were the days when a week of the silent treatment could evoke an end to a dispute...not that she wasn't tempted. "Ron?"
"It doesn't work that way in the wizarding world," Ron finally said. "The only person who can end a marriage is the person that started it."
"You must be joking," Hermione deadpanned.
"Nope. I had a great aunt and uncle that were stuck together for seventy-five years because the guy who married them died three days before they decided to separate. They couldn't get a divorce, so they just kind of put up with each other. I think by year thirty they may have even begun to like each other again."
A groan emitted from Hermione and she buried her head in her hands. "I can't be married! Especially not to you!" she wailed. Ron didn't know whether to be concerned because she was breaking down again, or upset at the rather large slight she'd just directed at him.
"Well you don't have to be rude about it," he finally grumbled, more to himself than his hysterical wife.
Wife. Wife. Wife. Wife. Wife.
The word continued to echo in Ron's head as the seconds ticked by.
"What kind of twisted individual would make such a law? Didn't they have any common-sense?" cried still-hysterical Hermione.
"They must never have been married," muttered Ron.
It occurred to Harry that Ron and Hermione, though hating their current situation, appeared very much like an old married couple. Of course, they had always seemed like an old married couple…even before puberty hit. Not to mention before they actually got married.
"I'm going back to bed," Ron said unexpectedly.
Hermione fixed him with a cold glare. "And how is that going to help us in this time of crisis?"
Rolling his eyes, Ron took off towards Hermione's bedroom. "Perhaps I'll wake up and all of this will have been a nightmare." Moments later the bedroom door shut.
"He could have at least gone into the spare room!" huffed Hermione. "He's so inconsiderate!"
"Is Ron living here now?" Harry asked, perplexed.
Hermione shook her head. "Of course not. He's going to live in his apartment, and I'm going to live in mine. And until we learn how to fix this, we'll pretend it never happened."
"But Hermione, Ron doesn't have an apartment…I was going to ask you to let him stay here for awhile when I came over this morning."
"Why can't he stay at the Burrow?" Hermione asked in desperation.
Harry's expression changed from that of pleading to one of amusement. "Apparently the spells holding up some of the wings started to give. Arthur's just started the repairs." At some point in the last decade Harry had begun to use the Weasley's given names, though nobody could mark when.
"Er…perhaps I should go have a look at those spells at some point, too."
"It couldn't hurt," Harry said, but his voice wasn't unkind.
It stunned Harry when he turned to find Hermione giving him a shrewd look. The black-haired man began to check out his shirt for stains, and returned Hermione a look of his own when he found none. "Do I have something in my teeth?"
"No, it's just…Harry, why can't Ron room with you? It's what you've always done before."
Harry began to pull at his collar again. "Er…I don't have room."
"You have plenty of room!" Hermione told him. "Wasn't that the point of moving into a bigger apartment?"
"No I don't." Harry's voice lacked the conviction he would have needed to pull off such a blatant lie.
"Your apartment has three bedrooms. Unless you have some illegitimate children mulling around…"
"Of course not!"
"Relax Harry, I was only joking." She looked down at the ring on her finger. "Not that I should be, mind."
"Hermione, I just…Ron can't stay with me right now."
Hermione's face gathered concern. "Are you two in a fight? What happened? Is it serious?"
"We're not married, if that's what you're getting at," Harry mumbled under his breath.
"HARRY!"
The two friends sat for a moment in silence, neither knowing exactly where there conversation was heading. "We're not in a fight," Harry finally said.
"That's good," Hermione replied.
"It's just that I've got some stuff going on and I don't want it to turn into a big deal," he embellished.
Hermione rolled her eyes in exactly the same manner Ron had only a little while ago. Luckily, this went unnoticed. "Harry, you can tell us if something's wrong, we've all learned that it's better to talk things out rather than try to fix them single-handedly. I thought you knew that," she chided.
"Hermione, it's not anything dangerous, I promise!"
Sighing, Hermione put a hand over his. "I suppose I'll have to trust you. But Harry, if something ever becomes dangerous—even if it's just the tiniest bit—you'd tell me, right?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah. What other witch can I whine to without feeling guilty?"
A whole lot of people, Hermione mused, but she didn't voice the thought aloud.
***
Inside Hermione's bedroom, Ron wasn't sleeping. Instead he was pacing back and forth, and he had a growing suspicion that the wood was going to start sagging because of it.
When he got tired of pacing, Ron plopped onto the bed. That was the technical term, too: plopped. The movement caused Crookshanks, who had been asleep on the bed, to meow in annoyance. "Sorry," Ron mumbled to the cat, which continued to stare at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world.
"You really are Hermione's cat," Ron noted.
The cat seemed to say, "Why are you talking to me? I'm a cat. Besides, you're not worthy of my time."
But that was just an interpretation.
"Great, even the cat thinks I'm being a prat," Ron mumbled into one of the pillows. Suddenly he felt very sleepy, and he turned onto his back, trying to get more comfortable. Crookshanks, who seemed to have forgiven Ron for his earlier grievances, climbed onto the man's chest. Ron considered pushing the feline off, but in the end, relented. "Not a word of this to the witch," Ron whispered, indicating towards the kitchen.
Crookshanks seemed to say, "Of course not. It's not like I want to be seen cuddled up with you, either."
***
"Well, Harry, thanks for stopping by. I suppose Ron and I will make due here," Hermione said.
"I really wish you two wouldn't be angry at each other. He hasn't been home twenty-four hours, and I was hoping…"
"Yes," prompted Hermione.
"Well, I just got the impression Ron didn't want to fight anymore."
"Really? I got the impression he was ignoring me last night!"
"But didn't marrying you more than make up for it?" Harry asked, smothering a grin as he did so.
Immediately a hand swatted his arm. "No it did not! A simple 'I'm sorry' would have been much more appropriate."
Harry released his grin. "Well, Ron doesn't do much half-heartedly."
"Except for Divinations," added Hermione.
Harry looked a bit offended at this. "Hey! We worked very hard in that class! I'd say we gave a hundred percent and more!"
Though Hermione had begun to wash her cup in the sink, Harry was sure he heard her say, "In bullshit."
But Hermione didn't say words like that, so Harry let it go.
A knock on the door interrupted them both, and Hermione barely managed to hold back a groan. With her luck it would be her mother, a person who would be more than a little upset to find a ring on her daughter's finger.
Wait. Strike that. Mrs. Granger had been waiting for Hermione to "settle down with a nice wizard" for quite some time. The woman wanted grandchildren and to get them, she would need a son-in-law. Hermione was beginning to think she'd accept just about anybody, which meant Ron would definitely have to be kept a secret from her.
Hermione performed the necessary spell to hide her ring, and then walked over to the door. She looked through the peephole and promptly became as pale as Nearly Headless Nick.
"Who is it?" Harry asked.
"Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," was all Hermione would say.
A masculine voice began to omit from outside. It wasn't Gretchen Granger.
"'Mione? Are you in there, love?"
It was Dylan. And there was a man napping in her bed. And she was married to said man sleeping in her bed.
"'Mione?" Harry spat out, sounding as if he were choking on the word. "He calls you 'Mione?"
"Shut up, Harry! I need you to go get Ron out of here. Hurry!"
"We can't Apparate in here, you put the ward up yourself!" It was true. Long ago Hermione, Ron, and Harry had made sure their dwellings were as secure as Hogwarts. Though there weren't many renegade Death Eaters left in the world, there were fanatics who would forever hate the trio for simply being alive. Death threats were common, and slander in the papers or on the radio wasn't exactly rare.
Harry was more than sure that Severus Snape had sent in at least one article deprecating The-Boy-Who-Still-Lived-And-Simply-Refused-To-Die. However, there was no proof, and the potions master continued to deny his guilt to this day.
"Okay," Hermione was saying quietly, bringing Harry back to the present, "Just don't mention Ron, and if you hear him stirring, go gag him!"
"Gag him? Isn't that a bit extreme?" asked Harry.
Hermione didn't seem to think so. After a brief primp period in which she rolled her wand down her robes to iron out any wrinkles, Dylan was allowed entry.
"There's my favorite girl," he boomed.
Hermione winced. All she needed now was for Ron to come out and spoil the longest relationship she'd ever had with a man who wasn't her best friend, father, or professor. After all, the platonic can only get a girl so far.
"Dylan, how nice to see you," she responded, placing a kiss on his cheek. Harry gave a little wave as form of greeting.
"Nice to see you, old boy!" Dylan said to Harry, placing a rather large pat on his back. Unfortunately, Harry had just taken a sip of his tea and began to choke much like Ron had done earlier. Hermione immediately rushed over, and upon reaching him whispered, "No so loud!"
Sympathy was short in coming in the Granger house, it seemed.
Even though his life was flashing before his eyes, Harry still managed to find the power to be annoyed. A wave of Hermione's wand and he was able to breathe again, but the damage was done.
"I think I'm going to leave now, Hermione."
"Er…wouldn't you like to get your…er…scarf out of my bedroom before you leave? You left it here months ago and you should really take it home."
"My what?"
"Your scarf, Harry, honestly!"
Catching on, Harry walked into the bedroom, making sure to open the door just enough to get in and keep Ron—alias: The Scarf—undetected.
The sight that greeted him was a bit of a surprise: Ron was sound asleep; Crookshanks curled up on his chest. Both creatures were snoozing comfortably and with no signs of having been disturbed. Harry thought longingly on all the cameras he had seen in his life and had neglected to carry around in preparation for this exact moment.
"You really get around, don't you, mate?" Harry murmured to The Scarf.
When he emerged, Dylan looked at Harry curiously. "Couldn't find your scarf?"
"Er…no. I think I might have taken it last time I was here." To Hermione, Harry said, "Crookshanks is sleeping soundly, but maybe it'd be best if you went out for a bit and let him sleep."
Dylan raised his eyebrows. "Isn't Crookshanks your cat, 'Mione?"
"Yes," Hermione told him smoothly. "But he's been a bit off lately and I would love it if he could just sleep it off."
Within the next five minutes all occupants were out of Hermione's house, leaving Ron and Crookshanks alone to spend some quality time together.
___________________________________________________________________
*The part where Hermione tells Ron to say pardon instead of what I blatantly stole from Bridget Jones' Diary. Thank you, Helen Fielding. Awesome book, by the way.
*The choking started off unintentional but became too much fun to end. Sorry.