Disclaimer: Sadly, but absolutely surely, I do not own anything Harry
Potter.
Chapter 3
Ron lived in the middle of a medium sized village, in a fair sized wizarding apartment building. He lived alone; Harry had briefly roomed with him a few years back, before he married Ginny and they moved into a house of their own. He was lonely, but not because he didn't see people—he had plenty of friends at work, lived only a few miles from Harry and Ginny and Fred and George and their families, and his parents visited quite often. And sure enough, Ron had plenty of fun keeping company with all of them, but he did always feel a little bit empty inside. He wasn't afraid to admit why—he and everyone else knew he missed Hermione. And missed his chance to be part of his own family with her and Jane.
Ron, indeed, had been quite successful in his life apart from that. He had become the manager of a rising Quidditch team for whom Alicia Spinnet played for, and lived quite comfortably. If only, he thought, he hadn't been such a git, life might have been pretty wonderful for him right now.
He was in a good mood today, though, for his daughter was coming to visit. He hardly ever got to see Jane, as it seemed Hermione preferred to avoid any contact with him whatsoever. And anytime Ron summoned up the courage to talk to Hermione about it and he either lost that courage when she picked up or found her unreachable. But he wouldn't dwell on hard feelings today—just would try to enjoy every moment he could with Jane.
He planned to take her out to their favorite restaurant—assuming she hadn't already eaten lunch—and then come back to the apartment and play board games. He had even gone out that morning to buy Doritos, a type of muggle snack Jane was rather fond of. And if all went well, none of the team's players or coaches would call him and he would be able to stay and watch his daughter's practice—she was a natural flyer, and Ron took great pride when he saw her on the field. He had just been going over things in his head to make sure everything was ready for Jane when he heard the anticipated knock on the door.
"Be right there, honey!" he called. On his way to the door, Ron straightened various odds and ends around the house, a stack of Daily Prophets on the counter, and a few photo frames on a shelf. As he straightened one particular photo, one of him, Harry, and Hermione in their sixth year, he found his finger wandering over to Hermione's photo self's tiny cheek. He let himself stare at her, smiling there and holding his hand for a split second before taking two quick strides to the door and opening it. A/N: Sorry, I know it's another really short chapter, but I just didn't feel like it belonged with the rest of what's to come...review please!
Ron lived in the middle of a medium sized village, in a fair sized wizarding apartment building. He lived alone; Harry had briefly roomed with him a few years back, before he married Ginny and they moved into a house of their own. He was lonely, but not because he didn't see people—he had plenty of friends at work, lived only a few miles from Harry and Ginny and Fred and George and their families, and his parents visited quite often. And sure enough, Ron had plenty of fun keeping company with all of them, but he did always feel a little bit empty inside. He wasn't afraid to admit why—he and everyone else knew he missed Hermione. And missed his chance to be part of his own family with her and Jane.
Ron, indeed, had been quite successful in his life apart from that. He had become the manager of a rising Quidditch team for whom Alicia Spinnet played for, and lived quite comfortably. If only, he thought, he hadn't been such a git, life might have been pretty wonderful for him right now.
He was in a good mood today, though, for his daughter was coming to visit. He hardly ever got to see Jane, as it seemed Hermione preferred to avoid any contact with him whatsoever. And anytime Ron summoned up the courage to talk to Hermione about it and he either lost that courage when she picked up or found her unreachable. But he wouldn't dwell on hard feelings today—just would try to enjoy every moment he could with Jane.
He planned to take her out to their favorite restaurant—assuming she hadn't already eaten lunch—and then come back to the apartment and play board games. He had even gone out that morning to buy Doritos, a type of muggle snack Jane was rather fond of. And if all went well, none of the team's players or coaches would call him and he would be able to stay and watch his daughter's practice—she was a natural flyer, and Ron took great pride when he saw her on the field. He had just been going over things in his head to make sure everything was ready for Jane when he heard the anticipated knock on the door.
"Be right there, honey!" he called. On his way to the door, Ron straightened various odds and ends around the house, a stack of Daily Prophets on the counter, and a few photo frames on a shelf. As he straightened one particular photo, one of him, Harry, and Hermione in their sixth year, he found his finger wandering over to Hermione's photo self's tiny cheek. He let himself stare at her, smiling there and holding his hand for a split second before taking two quick strides to the door and opening it. A/N: Sorry, I know it's another really short chapter, but I just didn't feel like it belonged with the rest of what's to come...review please!