Chapter 5: Flipping Through the Past

Hermione opened her apartment door wearily, dropped her backpack on the floor and slowly made her way into her bedroom. Flopping down on her bed, she sighed. Though she loved teaching, tutoring that little girl Anna sometimes took all she had out of her. That girl is exhausting, Hermione thought. She curled up on her bed and then sat up suddenly remembering she had to get ready: she had a date with Kevin.

She rummaged through her closet, tossing various items of clothing on the floor. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing will work. All of my clothes look hideous, UG! Hermione threw piece after piece of clothing on the floor. Skirts, shirts, dresses, pants. Nothing was going to work. Falling backwards on her bed, Hermione sighed and thought about a simpler time when she never worried about what to wear. Of course I was worried about staying alive…she shook the memories from her mind and sighed again. Why was she so nervous about this date? She'd known Kevin for more than a year, he'd seen her in class and at work, so what did it matter what she wore tonight?

Because tonight is a date. He has to see me as a girl, I have to be attractive, I have to look like a girl. Hermione sat up and remembered when someone else had finally seen her as a girl:

"Hermione, Neville's right – you are a girl…" "Oh, well spotted, " she said acidly

"NO, no, I will NOT think about him. I don't need to, I just need to go out, have a few drinks, and live a little!"

Standing up, Hermione looked in her closet again. She hesitantly reached for the black dress that Christine had loaned her. Her roommate was a little smaller than she, but had assured Hermione that it hugged her curves in all the right places. Right as she was putting it on, there was a knock on the door. She nearly fell over as she fumbled with zipping and running at the same time.

"No, no no no, he cant be here yet!" Hermione frantically ran a brush through her bushy hair, stepping over the mountains of clothes, looking for her shoes, and proceeding to freak out in the way only Hermione could. "Hang on! Just a minute!"

"Hermione, let me in! Let me in! I don't have my key!" Hermione stopped. Unless Kevin's voice was suddenly two octaves higher, that wasn't him. She opened the door to find Christine jumping up and down, grinning madly, waving an opened piece of mail in her hands.

"I got it! I got it! They accepted me!" she pushed her way into the apartment.

"What Christine? What?" Hermione was beyond confused, though a little relieved she still had time to get her act together.

"The internship! The one in London! The internship at the ad agency in London! Remember?" Christine looked as if she had a hanger in her mouth.

"Oh yes, yes! That's…fantastic Christine." Hermione turned and walked into the kitchen. She didn't want her friend to see the pained expression on her face. Her roommate and closest friend in Salem was planning on packing up and leaving to the very place she fled…

"Why are you leaving? LEAVING? Going 100s of miles away?"

She turned back to her roommate who was smiling expectantly. She'd worked so hard for that internship, it was her dream to go to London. Hermione smiled.

"I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it. You're going to have a blast!"

Hermione started to hug her when they heard a knock on the door. Hermione's eyes flew to the door. "No! I'm not ready yet!"

"Its ok! You get ready, I'll stall him!"

And Hermione ran to her bedroom and slammed the door.

BAM!

Ron jumped, startled. The attic door had slammed shut, and the ghoul was laughing. "Damn ghost! What is it with you poltergeists, tormenting people and laughing!" Ron scowled.

The ghoul laughed and clanged his chains, causing Ron to pick up an empty box and toss it at the noises.

"You don't both Ginny, but you bother me! Go AWAY!" He threw another box and the ghost finally took the hint and stopped rattling.

Ron shook his head in frustration and t hen looked back at the notebook. He still could not believe that he as reading Hermione's private thoughts. It felt so invasive, yet so satisfying. It had been so long since he'd seen Hermione that Ron felt as if he didn't know her anymore. Hell, before she left, he felt like they'd been drifting and didn't understand one another as much.

But then again, how much had they really understood one another in the first place? He'd always made fun of her obsessive studying and perfectionism, her unexpected desire to help the Elves (which turned out to be useful later on) and her goody-two-shoes-need to follow the rules. But he smiled as he remembered the many times she had surprised him by breaking the rules. They shared many great adventures during their Hogwarts days as the Dream Team.

He then remembered the many times that the Dream Team, the trio, nearly ceased to be, due to one of their ridiculous fights. Harry stayed out of them –rightly so – and Ron wished he could take back all of the terrible and stupid things he had said to Hermione over the years. He shook his head as he thought about how mean he could be and how he didn't even try to understand or appreciate her point of view.

Granted, by 7th year, he finally learned that Hermione was usually right, and she had very good reasons for anything she did. And that her over-achieving ambition would pay off in the end. She helped them get out of more scrapes in their day; Ron smiled as he remembered the night they went through the trap door. And the night Sirius escaped (when she and Harry finally told him how it played out, he couldn't believe it). And the "sneak" incident in 5th year. And the night the death eaters attacked Hogwarts during 6th year. And that night during the summer in Hogsmeade with the Deatheaters. He shuddered, thinking how he'd almost lost her that night.

Wait a minute. What? Ron ran his fingers tiredly through his hair and tried to clear any thoughts like that from his head. Sometimes the way he thought about her gave him chills. He had vowed long ago, when they were still in school, that he would never jeopardize their friendship, and do everything in his power to protect her from getting hurt A single tear formed in his eye as he remembered that fateful night in the park near Grimmauld Place…..

"Ron, what are you doing out here? You know we're not supposed to be out after dark." Hermione walked over to a park bench near where he was sprawled out on his back. He looked up at her – she had herself wrapped up in a heavy coat but was still shivering.

"I know. But…I couldn't focus so I could read.. I didn't want to go to bed, and I'm sick and tired of being hatched up in that bloody house. I had to get out."

"That sounds like something Harry would say."

He snorted. "Yeah, only who knows where Harry would sneak off to."

"Probably somewhere not as obvious as this park. Its not a very good hiding place." He looked up at her and saw that she was smiling. Ron sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

"So you're not going to yell at me for being out here?"

Hermione sat down. "Well that wouldn't make much sense since I'm out here too. And besides, I'm not your mother. What's the point in chastising you? You never listen to me anyway, so I've given up."

Ron looked at her. Her face was wistful, but not sad. She brushed her hair out of her face. "Even though the only reason I ever yelled at you and Harry was because I care about you. It was all –"

"I know, I know. 'Loving concern'. I know." He grinned at her. "It may have taken me a while to realize it, but I know you were only ever trying to protect us."

She looked at him with a deep look in her eyes. "Yes." What was she trying to tell him?

Ron didn't like the somber mood and didn't really know what to say, so he tried lightening the mood. "Well, I wish I could say the same about all the times I yelled at you. But well… I was just being a prat really."

Hermione chuckled. "Yes. Yes you were." Looking down at the grass, in a quiet voice she continued, "you were a great bloody prat because…because you never apologized. Or realized – realized how much you hurt me – " she hiccoughed and tried to stop herself from crying. Ron looked at her concerned. He hated seeing her cry, but he never knew what to say or do. "Hermione, I'm sorry, please, don't –"

"No, no. I didn't come out here to tell you what you did wrong. I –" she sniffed a little and wiped her eyes. Ron scooted closer to her, and tentatively placed his arm around her shoulders.

"Ron. All those time we were fighting, all those times we weren't speaking, I was so…unhappy. I hated being angry with you and having you angry with me."

"I know. Me too."

"Remember that day in Hogsmeade, last year? The day the deatheaters –"

"yeah. Yeah I do." He didn't want to remember it though.

"Well, that day, I was going to tell you something before the whole bloody mess happened. And then the hospital wing. And then we were finally on such good terms, and I didn't really want to chance anything and ruin our relationship – volatile as it was." She shrugged and her voice trailed off.

"Hermione," Ron began. He didn't quite know how to say what was on his mind. He knew exactly was she was talking about. Ever since that day, they' practically stopped fighting. Ron learned to listen more, she learned to forgive, and they got along despite their many differences. No one really understood the change. But Ron did. That day she nearly died. Even thinking about it gave him a headache. On that day he vowed to treat her better, and appreciate every day he had with his best friends since he never knew what could be the last.

"Hermione, I –"

"No, Ron. Let me finish. Before we met Harry at the Hogshead, I wanted to tell you –" she heavy sighed – "tell you that despite all the fighting, you're one of the most important people in my life, you're more than just my best friend. You're…I –"

But he cut her off. "No Hermione."

"What?" confused, she looked at him.

"I know what you're going to say." (for once in her life, Hermione didn't have to spell it out for him). "At least I think I do. And if its anything like…like what I'm thinking –" he gulped," – then I think we should wait."

She furrowed her brows and opened her mouth to say something but closed it uncertain. Ron was suddenly afraid he'd made the wrong assumption. But she looked up at him and he knew he was right. She looked deep into his brown eyes. They were gentle and full of concern – something she'd been seeing a lot of in him – and at that moment, telling her how very sorry he was.

Suddenly he stood up, angry.

"What is it Ron?"

"I HATE THIS!" he kicked the air. "We're not even supposed to be outside now, and you're telling me something you're not supposed to be saying, and I'm feeling something I'm not supposed to be feeling, and I want to do something I'm not supposed to even want to do. This DAMN WAR! ARRRRRRRRGH!" he roared with frustration at the stars.

"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione stood up, looking around worriedly, and put a hand on his arm.

"No, Hermione, I wont! This whole thing is fucking with my head and I don't like it! I just…I just…" he stopped and hung his head.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters right now except winning this bloody battle and living and making sure Harry lives too." He turned away from her and dropped his hands to his sides.

Hermione sighed, knowing he was right. She shouldn't have come out there, she shouldn't have said anything. Nothing could happen because of the war, and the fact that nothing was for certain and that happiness just wasn't allowed. She knew he was right, that they shouldn't be feeling what they were feeling or saying what they were feeling, because at that moment in time all they'd be left with would be guilt. She knew he was right.

Ron turned around and faced her. They were standing only inches apart. Ron took her hands in his and leaned his head down to rest on hers.

"Its not supposed to be this hard, ya know." He whispered.

"I know. We're only 17. its not bloody fair!"

"Oh, language, Hermione, language!"
She laughed and he smiled and they inched their faces closer and closer until the knot of guilt in her stomach halted her.

"Oh Ron, this is so wrong. Not now." She pulled away. Ron sighed.

"I know, Mione. We cant. I know." He smiled a sad smile, which she returned.

And that's when they saw the dark mark forming in the sky.

Ron leapt up from where he was sitting, angry for allowing himself to remember one of the most heartbreaking nights of his life. Since then, they'd both pushed aside the feelings they shared in order to concentrate on more important matters. There were many times they'd exchanged a look, or squeezed hands or some little gesture to indicate that one day, this will all be over.

But when that day finally came, nobody really knew what to do or how to return to a normal state. For so long the "abnormal" was "normal" that to return to the peace and calm of past normality was nearly incomprehensible – at least for those directly affected by the final battle, namely the brave students of Hogwarts. The final battle occurred more than a year after graduation, a year into their adult lives. They had all gone into their apprenticeships not really aware or attentive, just waiting for that day. By that point, none of them really expected to live, so none of them put much effort into work. Except Hermione, of course, who put effort into everything she did.

But afterwards that all changed. She became like a human shell, a zombie, just going through the motions, not really caring. That had happened to all of them to some extent. But for some reason, Hermione was more drastically affected, and therefore took more drastic actions.

"I'm leaving. I've decided to quit this whole auror training and go to Salem."

"You're WHAT?"

Ron couldn't believe his ears when she announced she was taking a break and getting away from it all. Why did everything else seem to think that it was ok? Ron never got it. He was so angry at her for leaving, that he didn't try to understand. She left just after that Christmas, and he only saw her once – on his birthday – before the next Christmas. And that was the last time he'd seen her. Nine months ago.

Nine months ago he nearly told her. He nearly broke down and confessed everything that they had silently vowed to hide years earlier. But he was scared that since so much time had passed, and since everything had changed so much, that she wouldn't feel the same as she did that night. He regretted not telling her, and remembered the ache in his veins as he walked her into town so she could catch a cab – since she refused to apparate to the airport – and the pain in his chest when she closed the door. He hadn't spoken to her since she left.

"That's it. This is enough." He stood up still holding the red notebook. "It has been long enough. I have to find her. I have to tell her." Ron pulled on the attic door, but it wouldn't open. "DAMMIT! Open!" He pulled harder and the door flew open, sending him backwards. The ghoul started laughing and clanging his chains as Ron stood up.

"One of these days…" he threatened and then ran down the stairs. Ginny knows where she is. She c an tell me how to find her…

"Ginny! Ginny! I need to ask you - " but he stopped at the bottom on the stairs because his sister and best friend were no where to be seen.