A/N: I only changed the second half of this chapter. If you've already read
it, please start at the part where Ron is collapsed on the floor crying.
I really hope you enjoy this. Thank you for reading.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron apparated back to Hermione's apartment as fast as he could. Hermione jumped from the couch where she was curled up reading at the loud CRACK.
"Oh Gods, Ron!" Hermione gasped, catching her breath, "You scared me half to death!" She leaned against the arm of the sofa for support.
"You need to get your wards checked," Ron said sternly.
Hermione exhaled, "Blood relatives of Harry and I can get past them." She straightened up and crossed her arms. "What are you doing here, anyways?"
"Harry left the jumper his *grandmother* gave him at my hotel." Ron scowled.
"Oh, Ron, you didn't have to come all this way tonight. You could have waited until tomorrow." She reached out to take the sweater from Ron, but he pulled back.
"Tell me, Hermione," he said venomously, "when did your mother learn to knit so well?"
She took a step back. "Well-"
"And tell me, Hermione," He continued, stepping closer to her, "when did Harry receive this lovely sweater? Christmas perhaps?"
"Er..."
"And tell me, Hermione," He raised voice, "Does my entire fucking family know about Harry or did you only tell my mother!?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ August 31, 1998
A fire blazed in the living room of the large, 3-bedroom flat. The occupant of the empty third bedroom had died exactly three months before. A tall, redheaded eighteen-year-old watched his girlfriend stare blankly at a picture of three eleven-year-olds. A tear rolled down her cheek. She stood in front of the fireplace and he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her waist and whisper, "Kiss me, Hermione,"
She turned her head away. "Why, Ron?" She sniffed.
"Because you love me," Ron frowned.
She thought for a moment then looked back into his eyes. "What did we do today?" Hermione asked, her voice serious.
"Well," Ron tried to figure out the answer Hermione was looking for, "We got up. We put lilies on Harry's grave. We went to Gringott's and cleaned up Harry's vault. We had a little argument, and now," he pressed his lips softly against her forehead, "now we're making up."
"That's just it," Hermione sighed, "that's all our relationship is; mourning Harry, bickering with each other, and well, frankly," she paused, struggling with the word, "shagging."
"Don't you.like-"
"That's not the point, Ron." Hermione interrupted, "The point is, our relationship has no purpose. We can't even talk anymore without arguing."
"We're talking now, aren't we?"
"That's not what I meant. I meant we never have interesting conversations about things that are happening or books or old memories or even Quidditch."
"Maybe if you gave it a little more effort we wou-"
"I'm not making an effort?! I try and talk to you every day, and what do you do? You push my buttons and-"
"I DO NOT! You're the one who won't listen to a God-damn thing I say-"
"Don't swear, Ron! And I do to listen to everything you say that has any importance!"
"Well how can you know what is or isn't important if you don't listen to everything!?"
Hermione screamed through clenched teeth. "This is what I'm talking about, Ron!" She yelled. "We just argue all the time! I'm going to bed." She turned around, heading towards her bedroom, as Ron followed her. She stopped and said, "My own bed...ALONE!" She hurried into the room, and slammed the door behind her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning Ron awoke early and made a feeble attempt at hot cereal and eggs to bring Hermione in bed. He placed the breakfast on tray with a class of pumpkin juice and proceeded to Hermione's room. He wanted to be the first thing she saw when she roused from her slumber so he decided not to knock. He balanced the tray on one arm and turned the doorknob with the other.
He was taken by surprise to see Hermione rushing about the bedroom, folding clothing and stuffing it into her trunk. "What are doing?" he gasped.
She stopped for a moment, dropping a white blouse into the case. "I'm leaving, Ron," she said.
Ron felt what could only be described as his heart in his throat. "What?" He choked out. "Where? For how long?"
She placed her hands on her hips. "I going...somewhere," she said, an unreadable expression across her face, "to stay with my cousin, Claire. I don't know for how long exactly, but don't expect me back anytime soon."
"But, but today's orientation. I thought-"
"I'm sorry, Ron. I think I'm going to get a job somewhere and re-enroll for healer training next year. You should probably get some roommates."
"How can you do this, Hermione?!" Ron dropped the tray on the floor, oatmeal and pumpkin juice spilling everywhere. "I didn't get all 'E's on my N.E.W.T.s because I wanted to be a healer. I worked my ass [arse?] off so I could be with you!"
"What am I supposed to say?" Hermione retorted. " I can't do this any more. I need a change and I think you do, too."
"I thought you loved me!" Ron cried.
Hermione resumed her packing with her wand, flicking things across the room and into the trunk. "I don't even know the meaning of love," she said softly.
"Hermione," Ron tried to gather himself, "this past year has been the best of my life. Even after I lost the best friend I ever had, I still had you, the most wonderful friend and lover a man could ask for. Don't do this to me," he pleaded. "Don't leave me all alone."
Hermione tapped her now full trunk and it disappear. With the simple words, "I'm sorry," she Apparated away, and for the first time since the death of his best friend, Ron collapsed to the floor and wept for hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before she went to the US, though, Hermione felt the need to say goodbye to someone else.
She knocked on the front door of the burrow, peeking through the window into the kitchen beside it. Mrs. Weasley promptly answered it with a delighted, "Hello, Hermione! What are you doing here?"
Hermione took a deep breath and answered, "I've come to say goodbye."
Molly's face fell. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.
"May I come in?" Hermione requested.
Mrs. Weasley nodded and led her through the kitchen, and into the living room, beyond. Hermione took a seat in an armchair facing Mrs. Weasley, who was seated on the sofa. "As you know," she began slowly, "Ron and I have been having a lot of problems lately. I decided that it would be best if, if we, well, we took a break from our relationship for a while. I've actually already moved out of the flat."
"Oh, Hermione, I completely understand," Mrs. Weasley said calmly. "After everything you two have been through it's only natural to take some time away from each other, but just because you aren't with my son, it doesn't mean we still can't be friends. You know you can always come to me for anything, and I'll be patiently awaiting the day when you and Ronald rekindle your relationship."
"Well, that's the thing," Hermione said nervously. "I'm moving to the United States, for six months to a year, at least."
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley replied, clearly biting her tongue to prevent an angry outburst, "well, this is unexpected."
"I just wanted to thank you for helping me so much over the past few years," Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes and brushed them away quickly, "and I really feel that I wouldn't have made it through these hard times without your help and guidance."
Molly smiled, in spite of herself, "you're very welcome. I can't say I'm pleased, but if this is what you need, then I won't stop you."
Hermione nodded.
"Promise to write?"
"Of course."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 19, 1998
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Her-my- own-neeee, happy birthday to you!" Claire sang as the waiter placed a slice of chocolate cake, with a lone candle burning in it in front of Hermione. "Blow out your candle!"
Hermione, whose face clearly revealed that she was threatening to burst into tears, gave a week exhale that hardly made the candle flicker.
Claire chuckled, "Birthday blues? C'mon, you're only 18!"
The tears that were waiting to fall poured from Hermione's eyes and into her cake, one extinguishing the flame. "What am I going to do?"
"What's going on? Are you okay?" Claire asked, concerned.
Hermione's head fell onto her fists. "I'm pregnant," she whispered.
"What'd you say?" Claire leaned closer.
Hermione lifted her head and said more clearly, "I'm pregnant."
"Oh, okay...well...okay," Claire nodded, trying to think of the right think of the right thing to say, "are you sure?"
"Yes," Hermione shook her head, "I'm three weeks late, and I did a little spell to check. What am I going to do, Claire, what?"
"Have you considered going back to England?"
"Yes, but I just don't think I'm ready yet. And to make it worse, Ronald's mother wrote me today. She wanted me to tell her everything that was going on with me, and I can't lie to that woman, but if I do tell her she'll probably talk me into going back, and I just don't think it's time to go back yet."
"But you're going to tell your boyfriend, right?"
Hermione made a sick face, "That will make things even worse."
"How, may I ask, will that make it worse?"
"If I tell Ron what's going to happen? He's going to drop out of the school he barely managed to get into in the first place. He's going to come over here and force me to marry him, which is going to sound like a brilliant idea when I first see him again. Then we'll have a baby and we'll be miserable until death do us part. I just don't want my child to grow up with her parents fighting all the time, you know? It messes kids up." Hermione sighed as her mind flashed to something that Harry had once said about Snape watching his parents fight.
"So you're going to deprive the child of a father just because you don't want to deal with your ex? Isn't that a little selfish?"
"Oh, God, Claire, I know it's selfish, but what am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, Hermione," Claire agreed, "but you got yourself into this, you have to get yourself out."
Hermione chewed her lip, thinking. "I think I'm going to tell his mother," she said softly.
"Are you sure about that?" Claire asked.
"Well, she did write to me today, asking what was going on, and I feel as if I should tell her. I know she'll insist I come back, but maybe she'll also have some advice to give. The woman *has* had seven children, you know."
Claire sighed, "This is your choice, Hermione, you have to do what you think is right."
"Yes," Hermione decided confidently, "I'll tell her. I'll beg her not to tell Ron, but if she wants to, I guess I can't stop her."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~END FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Hermione finished her tale, both she and Ron were in tears. He looked up at her and shook his head, "I hate you."
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A/N: Hope you like the subtle changes I made. I know I do. Feel free to E-mail me at BBDucky1@aol.com if you have any questions, comments or concerns. Oh, and PLEASE review if you have a moment.
I really hope you enjoy this. Thank you for reading.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron apparated back to Hermione's apartment as fast as he could. Hermione jumped from the couch where she was curled up reading at the loud CRACK.
"Oh Gods, Ron!" Hermione gasped, catching her breath, "You scared me half to death!" She leaned against the arm of the sofa for support.
"You need to get your wards checked," Ron said sternly.
Hermione exhaled, "Blood relatives of Harry and I can get past them." She straightened up and crossed her arms. "What are you doing here, anyways?"
"Harry left the jumper his *grandmother* gave him at my hotel." Ron scowled.
"Oh, Ron, you didn't have to come all this way tonight. You could have waited until tomorrow." She reached out to take the sweater from Ron, but he pulled back.
"Tell me, Hermione," he said venomously, "when did your mother learn to knit so well?"
She took a step back. "Well-"
"And tell me, Hermione," He continued, stepping closer to her, "when did Harry receive this lovely sweater? Christmas perhaps?"
"Er..."
"And tell me, Hermione," He raised voice, "Does my entire fucking family know about Harry or did you only tell my mother!?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ August 31, 1998
A fire blazed in the living room of the large, 3-bedroom flat. The occupant of the empty third bedroom had died exactly three months before. A tall, redheaded eighteen-year-old watched his girlfriend stare blankly at a picture of three eleven-year-olds. A tear rolled down her cheek. She stood in front of the fireplace and he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her waist and whisper, "Kiss me, Hermione,"
She turned her head away. "Why, Ron?" She sniffed.
"Because you love me," Ron frowned.
She thought for a moment then looked back into his eyes. "What did we do today?" Hermione asked, her voice serious.
"Well," Ron tried to figure out the answer Hermione was looking for, "We got up. We put lilies on Harry's grave. We went to Gringott's and cleaned up Harry's vault. We had a little argument, and now," he pressed his lips softly against her forehead, "now we're making up."
"That's just it," Hermione sighed, "that's all our relationship is; mourning Harry, bickering with each other, and well, frankly," she paused, struggling with the word, "shagging."
"Don't you.like-"
"That's not the point, Ron." Hermione interrupted, "The point is, our relationship has no purpose. We can't even talk anymore without arguing."
"We're talking now, aren't we?"
"That's not what I meant. I meant we never have interesting conversations about things that are happening or books or old memories or even Quidditch."
"Maybe if you gave it a little more effort we wou-"
"I'm not making an effort?! I try and talk to you every day, and what do you do? You push my buttons and-"
"I DO NOT! You're the one who won't listen to a God-damn thing I say-"
"Don't swear, Ron! And I do to listen to everything you say that has any importance!"
"Well how can you know what is or isn't important if you don't listen to everything!?"
Hermione screamed through clenched teeth. "This is what I'm talking about, Ron!" She yelled. "We just argue all the time! I'm going to bed." She turned around, heading towards her bedroom, as Ron followed her. She stopped and said, "My own bed...ALONE!" She hurried into the room, and slammed the door behind her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning Ron awoke early and made a feeble attempt at hot cereal and eggs to bring Hermione in bed. He placed the breakfast on tray with a class of pumpkin juice and proceeded to Hermione's room. He wanted to be the first thing she saw when she roused from her slumber so he decided not to knock. He balanced the tray on one arm and turned the doorknob with the other.
He was taken by surprise to see Hermione rushing about the bedroom, folding clothing and stuffing it into her trunk. "What are doing?" he gasped.
She stopped for a moment, dropping a white blouse into the case. "I'm leaving, Ron," she said.
Ron felt what could only be described as his heart in his throat. "What?" He choked out. "Where? For how long?"
She placed her hands on her hips. "I going...somewhere," she said, an unreadable expression across her face, "to stay with my cousin, Claire. I don't know for how long exactly, but don't expect me back anytime soon."
"But, but today's orientation. I thought-"
"I'm sorry, Ron. I think I'm going to get a job somewhere and re-enroll for healer training next year. You should probably get some roommates."
"How can you do this, Hermione?!" Ron dropped the tray on the floor, oatmeal and pumpkin juice spilling everywhere. "I didn't get all 'E's on my N.E.W.T.s because I wanted to be a healer. I worked my ass [arse?] off so I could be with you!"
"What am I supposed to say?" Hermione retorted. " I can't do this any more. I need a change and I think you do, too."
"I thought you loved me!" Ron cried.
Hermione resumed her packing with her wand, flicking things across the room and into the trunk. "I don't even know the meaning of love," she said softly.
"Hermione," Ron tried to gather himself, "this past year has been the best of my life. Even after I lost the best friend I ever had, I still had you, the most wonderful friend and lover a man could ask for. Don't do this to me," he pleaded. "Don't leave me all alone."
Hermione tapped her now full trunk and it disappear. With the simple words, "I'm sorry," she Apparated away, and for the first time since the death of his best friend, Ron collapsed to the floor and wept for hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before she went to the US, though, Hermione felt the need to say goodbye to someone else.
She knocked on the front door of the burrow, peeking through the window into the kitchen beside it. Mrs. Weasley promptly answered it with a delighted, "Hello, Hermione! What are you doing here?"
Hermione took a deep breath and answered, "I've come to say goodbye."
Molly's face fell. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.
"May I come in?" Hermione requested.
Mrs. Weasley nodded and led her through the kitchen, and into the living room, beyond. Hermione took a seat in an armchair facing Mrs. Weasley, who was seated on the sofa. "As you know," she began slowly, "Ron and I have been having a lot of problems lately. I decided that it would be best if, if we, well, we took a break from our relationship for a while. I've actually already moved out of the flat."
"Oh, Hermione, I completely understand," Mrs. Weasley said calmly. "After everything you two have been through it's only natural to take some time away from each other, but just because you aren't with my son, it doesn't mean we still can't be friends. You know you can always come to me for anything, and I'll be patiently awaiting the day when you and Ronald rekindle your relationship."
"Well, that's the thing," Hermione said nervously. "I'm moving to the United States, for six months to a year, at least."
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley replied, clearly biting her tongue to prevent an angry outburst, "well, this is unexpected."
"I just wanted to thank you for helping me so much over the past few years," Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes and brushed them away quickly, "and I really feel that I wouldn't have made it through these hard times without your help and guidance."
Molly smiled, in spite of herself, "you're very welcome. I can't say I'm pleased, but if this is what you need, then I won't stop you."
Hermione nodded.
"Promise to write?"
"Of course."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 19, 1998
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Her-my- own-neeee, happy birthday to you!" Claire sang as the waiter placed a slice of chocolate cake, with a lone candle burning in it in front of Hermione. "Blow out your candle!"
Hermione, whose face clearly revealed that she was threatening to burst into tears, gave a week exhale that hardly made the candle flicker.
Claire chuckled, "Birthday blues? C'mon, you're only 18!"
The tears that were waiting to fall poured from Hermione's eyes and into her cake, one extinguishing the flame. "What am I going to do?"
"What's going on? Are you okay?" Claire asked, concerned.
Hermione's head fell onto her fists. "I'm pregnant," she whispered.
"What'd you say?" Claire leaned closer.
Hermione lifted her head and said more clearly, "I'm pregnant."
"Oh, okay...well...okay," Claire nodded, trying to think of the right think of the right thing to say, "are you sure?"
"Yes," Hermione shook her head, "I'm three weeks late, and I did a little spell to check. What am I going to do, Claire, what?"
"Have you considered going back to England?"
"Yes, but I just don't think I'm ready yet. And to make it worse, Ronald's mother wrote me today. She wanted me to tell her everything that was going on with me, and I can't lie to that woman, but if I do tell her she'll probably talk me into going back, and I just don't think it's time to go back yet."
"But you're going to tell your boyfriend, right?"
Hermione made a sick face, "That will make things even worse."
"How, may I ask, will that make it worse?"
"If I tell Ron what's going to happen? He's going to drop out of the school he barely managed to get into in the first place. He's going to come over here and force me to marry him, which is going to sound like a brilliant idea when I first see him again. Then we'll have a baby and we'll be miserable until death do us part. I just don't want my child to grow up with her parents fighting all the time, you know? It messes kids up." Hermione sighed as her mind flashed to something that Harry had once said about Snape watching his parents fight.
"So you're going to deprive the child of a father just because you don't want to deal with your ex? Isn't that a little selfish?"
"Oh, God, Claire, I know it's selfish, but what am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, Hermione," Claire agreed, "but you got yourself into this, you have to get yourself out."
Hermione chewed her lip, thinking. "I think I'm going to tell his mother," she said softly.
"Are you sure about that?" Claire asked.
"Well, she did write to me today, asking what was going on, and I feel as if I should tell her. I know she'll insist I come back, but maybe she'll also have some advice to give. The woman *has* had seven children, you know."
Claire sighed, "This is your choice, Hermione, you have to do what you think is right."
"Yes," Hermione decided confidently, "I'll tell her. I'll beg her not to tell Ron, but if she wants to, I guess I can't stop her."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~END FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Hermione finished her tale, both she and Ron were in tears. He looked up at her and shook his head, "I hate you."
------------------------------ -------------------------------------- ------ ---------------- ------------
A/N: Hope you like the subtle changes I made. I know I do. Feel free to E-mail me at BBDucky1@aol.com if you have any questions, comments or concerns. Oh, and PLEASE review if you have a moment.