Chap 5 – Interlude of Denial
Ron stomped up the stairs until he reached the top floor. He enjoyed feeling the house shake around him as he slammed the door to his room. He fell onto his bed, trying to block out the events of the morning.
He'd been able to get the shower first this morning. It had been his first shower with hot water since coming home – which he took as a sign, instant good day. At breakfast, mum had outdone her already spectacular cooking abilities. What could ruin this day, Ron had thought as he had tucked into his eggs. Then the post had arrived.
Usually getting a letter from Harry would bring some light into the darkest of days, but not this time. In his previous letter, Ron had asked about Hermione and as always Harry was able to see the situation from a different angle. He had explained that Hermione was angry with him for not coming to Italy with her, and considering how she had asked him (I can't believe you didn't get that mate! Are you really that dense when it comes to her?)He told him to prepare for hostilities, both open and covert.
'How's a bloke supposed to know what to say to her? She's always blowing hot and cold,' Ron mussed as he took the letter out of his pocket to reread.
Once again, when he got to the last few lines, he couldn't believe what he had just read. Sure, he could apologise. He didn't want to do it, but if it made Hermione fell better then he'd do it. It was the notion of kissing her if a proper apology failed that made him quake.
'Why would Harry even suggest that? Since when is he interested in other people's love lives?' He thought as he began to pace the floor.
"Why is everyone so interested in Hermione and me? I mean, it's not as though we could ever be a couple. We're just too different."
'Ah, but your differences compliment each other,' his inner mind commented. 'You know what they say, opposites attract. . .'
"No, I can't be. . . . She wouldn't. . . ."
BOOM!
Ron had caught his foot on the edge of something and fell onto the floor.
"Bloody Hell!" he sat up to see what had tripped him up. "A book?" he asked somewhat surprised, but it wasn't just any book. It was the planner Hermione had gotten him for Christmas during fifth year.
Ron smiled as he picked up the book and moved to lean against the side of his bed. Hermione was always looking out for him - making sure he kept his grades up and stayed out of trouble. Well, as much as was possible for him.
With his head propped upon the edge of the bed, Ron's mind began to turn. 'That's all Hermione thinks of me a: a person who needs her to look after them. She'll never see me as anything but that, even if I wanted her to,' he thought sullenly. 'We've been friends for over six years. Something would have happened if we were supposed to be together.'
'You're so dense! Don't you remember second year, when Hermione was petrified? You were terrified you'd lose her. Or how 'bout fourth year, and she was spending so much time with Viktor Krum? Don't try to deny the fact that you were jealous because everyone could see you were,' his mind argued.
Everything was quiet. Ron drew his knees up to his chest and hung his arms and head in defeat. "It doesn't matter. Even if I poured my heart out to her, she'd just laugh at me," he muttered darkly.
"Fuck the lot of it! I'm goin' to work," With that, he stood up, tossed the book into his trunk, and walked back down the stairs to the living room fire.
Ron threw the floo powder into the fire and watched the green flames for a few seconds before stepping into them. "Diagon Alley," he stated clearly and in a flash he was gone.
The inside of the house was silent and dark.
Footsteps began to sound from the front stoop; a jingle of keys shattered the silence as a key slid into the lock. As the door opened up into the room, dust motes began to dance in the midday light.
"Oh my, it's so good to be home," Mrs. Granger sighed as she walked into the family's townhouse.
"I couldn't agree more, my dear. Though, you must admit, that delay over Paris turned out quite well," Mr. Granger panted as he hefted two bulging suitcases and disappeared up the stairs.
"Just look at all this mail. This is the part of going on holiday that I hate," Mrs. Granger said to herself as she shuffled through a large collection of envelopes. "Hermione, where are you?"
"Right here, Mum," Hermione answered from the door, still laden down with a large suitcase and various shopping bags.
"When you go to put your things away, tell your father to come back down. We need to have a talk."
"Not a problem, mum," she replied.
As Hermione walked up the stairs her brain jumped into overdrive. 'What could we possibly have to talk about? We only just got home; what's wrong now?' She opened her door and stepped into her personal domain.
Everything was organized, in its place and seemed picture perfect - a paradox, really. While on the outside Hermione appeared cool and collected, inside she was caught in a raging turmoil of emotions.
She placed the shopping bags on her school trunk and the suitcase on the bed and began to unpack. Italy had been filled with so much stuff; Hermione hadn't been able to curb her shopping.
She'd bought herself multiple books on runes and their meanings and Adding it Up by Addona Numerons for her Advanced Arithmancy class. For Ginny, she'd bought The Complete Almanac of Hexes, Jinxes, Curses and their Counterparts and also a pair of copper and crystal chandelier earrings; for Harry, 1001 Defensive Spells and Charms and a wand holster - to an outsider it would appear as a leather band, about three inches wide, but if would also prevent the wearer's wand from being summoned away during a duel.
Now that she was home, Hermione realized she had gone overboard with Ron's gifts - a real Sneakoscope, The Secret History of Aurors: Requirements, Training and Special Ops, an official Chudley Cannons practice jersey, and a broom servicing kit.
'I don't know why I bought him so much. It's not as thought he'll notice it. Besides, I'm still angry with him,' Hermione fumed as she put the presents away in her trunk.
Halfway through her suitcase there was a tapping upon the glass.
"Athene!" Hermione shrieked as she rushed to open the window. "How intelligent you are!" She untied the letter and gave Athene a stroke and an Owl Treat. Before flying off to her perch, she cooed her thanks.
Looking at the letter, Hermione recognized Harry's writing and quickly opened it. 'Hmm, his writing's messier than usual, as though he's agitated or something.'
Hermione -
Glad to hear you're enjoying your holiday. Can't complain too much about the Dursleys - they left me alone in the house for a week, so. Just so you know (mum), I finished all of the homework within the first two weeks because I plan to start training full time once I've moved into Grimmauld next week.
Yes, we all know that Ron's a git, but go easy on him. He knows that you're mad with him and feels wretched.
"Good, we're a little more even now," Hermione mumbled angrily.
Whenever you see him, let him apologise - don't poke and prod for one. And Hermione, for once, listen to your heart, not your head (just this once.) Harry
"What does he mean by that?" she refolded the letter and placed it on her desk. "What's he trying to - "
"Hermione, hurry and come downstairs," Mrs. Granger called from the staircase.
Hermione breathed a sight of relief. 'Thank goodness I don't have to deal with this yet.'"I'm coming."
As Hermione walked down the stairs and through the hall to the sitting room, a thought suddenly overtook her mind. She looked around and noticed the clinical, unlived-in feel of the house, and not just at the moment, but that it had always been like that.
The tables weren't littered with books or knick-knacks; there were only two family pictures in the whole house. One was of her parents on their wedding day and the other was taken on the summer holiday when she was eleven (days later she had received her first Hogwart's letter.) Everything else that was on the walls was paintings or other professional works. Nothing in the house had any significant meaning, it was just there.
This feeling made her long for the loving comfort of the Burrow, but this reminded her of Ron. Not wanting to think of her own feelings at the moment, Hermione pushed them to the back of her mind as she opened the door to the room.
Her parents sat together on the sofa and had placed one of the armchairs directly in front of it.
'What is this, an Inquisition?' she wondered as she sat in the chair. Both of her parents seemed to be avoiding looking at her in the eye. Her mother was the first to move as she cleared her throat.
"Hermione, you know how much your father and I love you, right?" Hermione inclined her head, growing more nervous. "Well, we believe it would be best if you didn't return to school this year and instead enrolled at Gladstone Academy."
Hermione was speechless (a rare occurrence for her). "Mum, how could I -"
"Let me finish. With all of these unexplained attacks happening all over the country we feel it would be better if you stayed closer to home. Your father and I only get to see you two months out of the year. If you were to become a full-fledged witch, we would probably never see you," Mrs. Granger ended on a sob and buried her head into her husband's shoulder.
"Your mother's right. When you were little, you always wanted to be a professor or a barrister. If you stayed with us you could still do that. What would you become if you stayed where you are?" Hermione tried to answer but he pushed on undeterred. "Where will you work? Where will you live? How will you get by? These are all questions you need to be asking yourself now, before it's too late."
Hermione could feel the tears threatening to fall. 'How long have they felt like this? And why do they choose now to talk about it?'
Not knowing what to say next, Hermione stared at her parents. Her mother's eyes were red and puffy, there were tear tracks running down her cheeks, and the silence of the room was periodically interrupted by her hiccoughed sobs. By contrasts, her father just sat there, his eyes looking into the distance and his jaw set as he waited for his daughter's response.
"Why are you only just now telling me about this?" she asked as she stood up and began to pace behind the chair. "I mean, if you've felt like this before, why didn't you bring it up sooner? I love Hogwarts," She stopped her movements and clutched the chair's headrest. "When I was in primary school I always felt different, an outsider somehow. Now, I'm just like everyone else. I'm top of my class and I have true friends.
"If I wanted to I could get any job I wanted. So, I don't understand why you want me to leave," Hermione ended shrilly.
"This is not negotiable," her father stated. "Either you stay here or we will be forced to disown you."
Hermione's jaw dropped, she blinked furiously, shaking her head wondering if she was hearing right.
"We'll give you enough money to buy your books and school supplies for this year, but after that you'd be nothing to us," Mrs. Granger finished resolutely.
"Well," Hermione sighed. "I guess you leave me with no choice."
'I knew she'd make the right choice,' her parents thought in unison and straightened, anticipating Hermione's surrender.
"I'm going to Hogwarts. I'll owl the Weasleys and ask if I can stay there for the remainder of the summer," she turned and walked towards the door, then stopped to look back. Her parents were frozen in disbelief.
"I'll go get my things packed. I'll be gone by Friday evening." With that said Hermione fled from the room and headed upstairs.
Once back inside her room, she locked the door and slumped against it. All at once the repressed emotions that she had been accumulating over the day descended upon her and Hermione slid down to the floor in tears.
She no longer had any parents, a family, or a place to live and all because she couldn't lie to herself. She was a witch, it was the only part of her that had ever made sense or felt right and now was nearly the only constant left in her life.
Finding some comfort in what she still had - her magic, her friends, and school - Hermione sat up and wiped away her tears. She leaned against the door trying to calm her breathing. After nearly fifteen minutes, feeling somewhat composed, if still a little shaky, she stood and walked towards the desk.
Taking out pen and parchment she began her letter to the Weasleys. Hermione signed her name with a flourish and quickly sealed the letter, not wanting to second guess her decision.
"Athene," the pretty tawny woke from her perch and fluttered over to land on the back of the chair. "I need you to take this to the Weasley's home and stay there. I'll be there soon." The owl hooted and within seconds was out of the room and out of sight, leaving Hermione alone.
"Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't get much of a chance to unpack."