AN - Thanks muchly to those of you who have been reading and reviewing so far. I know there aren't a large number, but I'm glad there are people enjoying the fic! So thanks. ;-) And also, I thought you might want to know - this is the second-to-last chapter! Yep, after chapter seven, the fic will be finished. I hope you enjoy the final two!
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Two Weeks Notice:
Chapter Six
-dutchtulips-
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A few days later, back at work, Ron found himself in the staff lounge, preparing himself a cup of tea. He'd been busy all morning that he had almost missed lunch, forgetting completely what time it was. He'd been feeling so glum for most of the afternoon; truth be told, he'd arrived to work that morning feeling that way. He was pretty sure he knew why he was so somber, but he was making a strong effort to ebb around it. So now, knowing he needed it, Ron had slipped out of his office for a much-needed break.
Almost absentmindedly, he dipped a spoon into his teacup, fishing out the dregs. He was still doing this long after he'd swept them all out - his mind was such a blur - and a number of minutes had passed before he noticed. When he did, he tossed the spoon hastily back on the counter, shaking his own head at himself. As Ron lifted the cup to drink, someone else walked into the room, joining him at the counter.
" 'Lo, Hannah," he greeted casually, taking a swallow of tea.
Looking up and seeing him there, she smiled widely. "Hi!" Grabbing a goblet, she picked up the glass carafe that contained pumpkin juice and filled her cup. "I had a good time at the company outing the other day," she told him, starting up a bit of conversation. "Great Quidditch game, wasn't it?" Pause. "Well, except for when Hermione got hit with the Quaffle! How is she feeling?"
"Oh, back to her old self, I assure you," Ron replied with a smile.
"I still feel horrible about that," Hannah said ruefully, sipping from her goblet. "But she does seem a lot better today. And good thing, too, with that benefit gala you're throwing tonight. What was it for, again?"
"Oh, well, it's for the Beast Division at the Ministry of Magic," he explained. "Hermione's a very big supporter of magical creature rights, so she has us give large amounts of money every year to the cause. We hold a soiree and everything for it at the Ministry."
"Sounds exciting."
Ron cocked his head sheepishly. "Actually, it can be quite boring. I'd tell you about it, but in reality, it would be too boring!"
Hannah laughed at his comment. "Well, I wouldn't know, I can't say that I've been to many of those fancy Ministry affairs."
"Well..." His expression perked up slightly. "A group of us are all going. Would you like to come along, and be bored?"
Her eyes twinkled cheerfully at the invitation. "Really? I'd love to!"
"Good!" Ron smiled with satisfaction, putting down his teacup. "I'll see you this evening, around seven o'clock, then?"
"You sure will." Hannah grinned one last time, and then slipped out of the lounge.
---
The sun was just beginning its descent into the west outside the window of Hermione's top-floor office, and she was most relieved that it was almost dusk, because it meant that her long, busy day at work - filing papers and confirming final arrangements for tonight's benefit party - was nearly over. Tucking most of her books and scrolls away in her desk, she began to gather up her satchel, preparing to leave.
"Oi! Hermione!"
The curly-haired witch looked up towards her doorway to see who was calling to her, and wasn't surprised to see that it was Hannah. Gliding into Hermione's office, she had several papers in her hands. "I've finished the documents that need to go to Gringotts. Here you are!"
She took the parchment from Hannah, and made a quick study of the neatly-written work. "These look very well done," Hermione smiled placidly. "Now, there are some estate reports that I'd love for you start on -"
The blonde bit her lip. "Actually," she interrupted, "I'm not sure how much time I'm going to have. Ron sort of, well, asked me to go to tonight's gala with him, and I accepted."
Hermione sucked in a breath, taken aback at what she'd just heard. "He - he did? Well, er, that's... great."
"I just have to figure out what to wear. I don't have anything!" Hannah exclaimed and, without even waiting for a response, hurried out of the room.
Hermione watched her go, but was still staring at the doorway long after her former classmate had disappeared. Her mind was a blank for several long moments, and she was still in a daze as she, at last, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the office herself, closing the door firmly behind her and starting off towards the lift.
It was, at the end of the hall, next to the lift doors, that she saw Ron, who was talking to one of his assistants. Once her eyes fell upon him, all of Hermione's emotions returned, among them all a sudden surge of annoyance and fury. She quickened her pace, marching down the hallway towards him, though not entirely sure what she would say when she reached him.
Conveniently, she didn't have to. Ron spotted her first, perking up at the sight of her, and started down the corridor to her. "Hey, listen, are we meeting up this evening to go over my speech for the benefit?"
In a matter of seconds, Hermione's rage slid off of her, and a cool indifference took its place. "I'm sorry, I don't have the time," she informed him curtly, pressing the lift's 'down' button on the wall.
He seemed deterred by her comment, but nevertheless pressed on. "Okay, well, once we arrive, then? I am going to need your expertise on this. Oh, and... well... I invited Hannah along to the gala, I hope that's all right."
"Oh, that's just splendid." The lift doors opened then, and Hermione stepped through them smoothly. "You two have a good time. I'll see you there, I suppose." And before Ron - who was staring emphatically at her - could reply, the doors closed, cutting one another off from sight.
---
"Ron! Ron, I know you're in here, please answer me!"
He could hear the all-too-familiar, reprimanding voice coming from his living room, even though he was currently standing in the walk-in closet in his bedroom. The redhead had been sifting through his rack of dress robes, trying to find the color he wanted, when he'd heard his brother's voice calling, demanding his presence.
Reluctantly, Ron staggered from the closet and sauntered out into the living room, where Percy Weasley's head sat, perched among the fireplace flames. His expression, as always, was serious and businesslike.
"What is it?" Ron inquired. "I'm trying to get ready for the gala."
"Look, it's imperative that I speak with you. I hope it's all right I come through for a moment."
Without waiting for a reply, Percy's head lurched, and he thrust his lanky body forward through the fire. Ron extended a hand to his brother, pulling him out of the grate and across the hearth. Coughing, the elder Weasley gave his robes a quick dusting off, and then put his hand into his pocket, extracting, of course, a file folder, from his seemingly neverending supply.
"Listen, I received some new estimates on Budleigh Babberton. Costs are going through the roof," he explained, reaching into the folder and pulling a piece of parchment from it. "We need to raise our funds in order to secure the estate, which means we're going to have to make some cuts. I've drawn up a list, I want you to look over it."
Ron took the paper from his brother, almost indifferently, and skimmed through it wearily. Halfway down the list, though, he stopped, and the apathetic gaze disappeared from his face, replaced by mounting dread.
" 'Tear down Flourish and Blotts'?" He read, looking back up at his brother with piercing eyes. "No, we can't! Not that one. I refuse to have it done."
Percy arched his eyebrows, looking irritated. "I don't have the time, or the patience, really, to argue about this. Every single cut on that list needs to be made. There aren't any alternatives. This is the most efficient way to increase our funds without losing profit. Then we'll be able to wrap up the deal, exactly what we've been working towards for months!"
Ron folded his arms across his chest. "Not if it means demolishing the bookshop, I won't."
"I told you not to fight me on this!" The elder Weasley's voice was rising. "We are not little boys living under Mum and Dad's roof anymore! This is your job, Ron! It's your duty to be there and close this. You are the face of the company!"
He sighed and stared at his older brother. "Okay, look. Whatever we lose on the deal, I'm in for half."
"Nothing! You'll be in for nothing at the rate you're going!" Percy shot back. "I don't get you these days! At all! You've been gung-ho about getting this estate since the beginning, and now that we're two steps away from securing it, you're perfectly willing to just give it up!"
Ron said nothing, knowing why he suddenly would back out of the deal they'd been chasing for half the year. However, he had absolutely no inclinations to disclose it with his brother. He tried to think of some excuse though, any at all, to give him, but it didn't seem to matter. Percy was already talking again.
"Clearly you don't have a clue, but our economy is not like it used to be. Everything we have, that we worked for years to acquire - all of it - could go. Faster than you could imagine," he said grimly. "We need Budleigh Babberton to come through. And you are going to be there to do it. Or else... I will fire you and revoke all of your bonds."
Ron looked up at his brother, eyes unblinking. Percy's expression was a sheen of severity. "I would take no pleasure in doing that, Ron, believe me. But I am trying to stress how important this is. You will help me secure this estate, correct?"
The younger Weasley let out a long, resigned sigh, saying finally, "... I'm surprised you have to ask."
Percy, looking mollified now, silently tucked the file folder away in his pocket again and replied, "Well, I wasn't really asking."
---
The top floor of the Ministry of Magic. The building's large, spacious reception hall was decorated whimsically with long ropes of silver tinsel garland, fairy lights, and multicolored baubles. Punch bowls and buffet tables were set up, and at the head of the room, a band - the Dragons Five - was playing. People were eating, listening to the music, talking. There were also couples out of their chairs and dancing. The party was in full swing.
Stepping out of the gold-gated lift doors and through the entrance, Ron stepped into the reception hall, decked out in his evening finery - hunter green robes and a jaunty tie; the tie had several dancing house elves embroidered on it. Hannah, his date, had her arm looped through his and smiling. Her blond hair hung loose against her bare shoulders, standing out against her sapphire blue, silk wrap dress, the skirt gathered with a flourish by the blue rosette on the waist.
Dozens of small, candlelit dining tables were set up along the outskirts of the dance floor, at which one Ron spotted Percy, accompanied by his wife, Penelope, both sitting and enjoying servings of roast beef and jacket potatoes.
"Oi, Ron!" Percy greeted as he saw his brother and Hannah approach their table. "Corking to see you. And you, Hannah."
She beamed at the couple. "Good evening, Percy, Penelope."
"Fairly good turnout, don't you think?" Ron mused, looking around the room, as he and Hannah sat down at the table.
"The food is quite excellent," was his brother's response. "It's really the only thing that makes these functions worth coming to."
Ron stared at Percy for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together, but didn't reply, instead changing the subject. "Ah, yes, well, would anyone care for a drink?" He asked, edging out of his chair. "I sure could use one myself."
"I'd love some white wine," Hannah said.
He nodded and sauntered off back across the reception hall and to the drinks table, glad to have a moment away from everyone, even if it was just to retrieve the refreshments. Ron grabbed a goblet and one of the champagne bottles, filling the cup generously. As he was reaching into the ice bucket to pick up a butterbeer for himself, it was then that he looked up to survey the room again.
And as he did, his breath caught in his throat.
His eyes had fallen upon her just as she was entering the reception hall. At first Ron couldn't even believe that it was her, but instinctively he knew it was. She was utterly gorgeous tonight, there was just no denying it. He took another moment to drink in her lovely appearance - she was wearing a pale yellow, satin gown, with green wedges of chiffon sewn into the skirt, making it look even fuller. The bodice was crisscrossed with bands of green velvet, tied in bows, and a green stole adorning her bare shoulders matched her dress. Her bushy nutmeg hair was pulled back, into a chignon at the base of her neck.
It was like the Yule Ball again, all of those years ago, seeing teenage Hermione Granger so beautiful and fancy for the first time in his life.
But unlike the last time, she was staring directly at Ron.
He blinked, his heart starting to beat a bit faster as he realized that she had spotted him. She was smiling, a sparkling beam that seemed to be taking over her entire face, and was walking towards him now. Abandoning the drinks, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Ron obliged and started across the floor for her.
At last they met, standing there and facing each other. Hermione was looking at him, as if expecting him to say something, and Ron himself was expecting it, too. He kept opening and closing his mouth, but was having a hard time getting any words out. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn't know quite how.
Finally, he was able to get his voice to work. "You - you look so... so stunning."
Hermione bit her lip; it was trembling. But from whatever emotion, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he simply couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Nice tie," she told him, looking amused. "It'd look better on me, don't you think?"
Ron chuckled at her remark. "Well, ordinarily I reckon it would suit you quite well," he replied, and then his eyes softened once more, "... But not tonight."
Hermione clutched at her heart for a moment, smiling warmly at him. He was quite sure she was choked up at his comment, and he couldn't stop smiling because of it. But then, abruptly, the moment seemed to pass. She looked discouraged all of a sudden, quickly enough that Ron thought he had done something wrong. But then, when he felt someone touch his arm, he figured it out.
"Hermione, hi!" Hannah chirped. "It's nice to see you tonight! I love your dress!"
She blinked. "Oh, oh, thank you," she replied, almost absently. She was still staring at Ron, who in turn, had not yet been successful in pulling his gaze away from her, either.
Hannah glanced back and forth between them, sensing that something poignant was passing between the two friends. "Oh, I'm sorry," she hurriedly blurted. "I was interrupting something, wasn't I?"
Suddenly Ron shook his head, seeming to finally come back to Earth. "Oh, oh no. We were just... going over my speech."
"Right," Hermione agreed simply. "Work, work, work!"
At this, Hannah's eyes filled up rapidly with interest. "Oh, you know, that reminds me," she said, "Percy wants me to revise the Budleigh Babberton proposal, since we're making all of those cuts and tearing down Flourish and Blotts. I could really use your help on it."
The last remaining bit of cheer dropped off Hermione's face and into oblivion upon hearing this, and her eyes - now, piercing and indignant - shot over to Ron. Only seconds before, she'd noticed, he couldn't stop staring at her. Now, he had suddenly found the ability to look everywhere else except for her.
"E-excuse me?" She stammered, looking shocked, irate. "Ronald, may I have a talk with you?"
"No, wait - I think they're bringing out the entertainment any minute! Tap-dancing leprechauns!" He exclaimed, attempting to avoid the inevitable. He was positive it wouldn't work though, and knew it for certain the next minute, when she placed a dead man's grip on his elbow and dragged him off.
When she looked at him again, she hissed, "Put your arm on my waist!"
Ron was very confused, but understood straight away when he realized she had yanked him onto the dance floor. He obediently took hold of her torso, and then her outstretched hand as they started to waltz.
"Listen," he started right away, before she could, "I already know what you're going to say, but it's no use. I spent half the evening arguing with Percy about it and he won't budge."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't care about Percy! I care about you, your word, and the bookstore." She stared up at him expectantly, but when he said nothing, she looked away and sighed. "Oh, I see. You're just going to let it happen."
"Look, it's not the end of the world," he replied, as gently as he could. "We still give galleons and galleons to causes and charities and everywhere else!"
But she barely paid attention. "That hardly justifies lying!" She said hotly. "You told me you needed me to tell you when you were being a prat, so guess what."
Ron was beginning to get annoyed. "Well, it's frankly none of your business anymore, is it?" He shot back. "In case you've forgotten one little detail, let me remind you - in a few more days, you won't be working for me anymore!"
At his remark, Hermione planted her feet firmly and let go of him. "I can't believe this!" She said incredulously. "You're not even going to try to be the person that you could be!"
"This is the person that I could be!"
"No," she disagreed waspishly. "You walk around with the thought that you are second-rate and that there's nothing you can do about it. But I never believed it until right now, this minute." Pause. "This is the first time in a long time that I honestly don't like you."
"Well, I..." Ron's voice drifted off. A flash of realization seemed to fill his eyes, but then it disappeared just as fast. "I haven't liked me for a lot longer. And besides, I'm not too crazy about you right now, either! Why can't you go be the person you're supposed to be?"
Hermione was crestfallen. Not wanting to hear any more, she turned her face away from him. The reason why was obvious, as her next words had become clogged, "Oh, I see the mature part of the evening has begun." She stomped away then, leaving him there alone on the dance floor.
And Ron, as he had so many times in the past, watched her retreating form as it slipped away into the crowd. He wanted to follow her, but his heart felt as if it had sunk all the way down his feet, making them too heavy to move.
---
Once he gave his speech - halfheartedly - Ron had opted for leaving the benefit gala early. After his argument with Hermione, he hadn't been able to spot her anywhere; chances were, she'd probably left the party straight away. He didn't know where she could be, but he did want to find her, talk the whole ordeal out a little longer and try to set her mind at ease.
But first, he wanted to take Hannah back to the hotel.
After Flooing back to Hogsmeade and the Phoenix Inn, he walked with her across the lobby, over to the lift. While they waited for it, she told him, "Ron, I want to thank you again for inviting me to the gala. I had a marvelous time."
He smiled. "Really? Everyone in the office always thinks it so dull."
"Oh, no," she disagreed. "It wasn't boring at all! Not with you."
Ron glanced at her sideways, wondering if what she was implying what he thought she was. She was staring back at him with glittering eyes, which gave him his answer. Just then, the lift doors opened, and the pair of them stepped inside. He pressed her level's button, and they started up.
"How's your room?" He asked, casually.
"Oh, it's great," Hannah told him. "But I insist on paying you back, with interest."
Ron waved her off. "Oh, don't be silly," he said good-naturedly, and then added jokingly, "There's no need for interest."
Hannah laughed merrily but didn't reply right away; the lift doors had just opened on her level. Slowly, she began to step out, but then turned back again almost immediately. "Thanks again for a spectacular evening," she said.
"My pleasure."
"Okay, well... good night, then." Hannah tentatively leaned forward and gave Ron a short kiss good-bye. However, what was only supposed to be one kiss grew into several more, as she stepped back into the elevator yet again as she and Ron began to kiss more deeply. The lift doors closed once more and he fingered the top-level button, his eyes half-closed. Ron enclosed his arms around her, without even fully realizing what he was doing, or what he was getting himself into, only thinking about the fact that he was lucky enough to have his attractive, blond, lawyer-to-be harboring heavy affection for him.
A soft ding alerted them that the doors had opened, and they disentangled themselves from each other to step out of the lift. Ron let her down the small corridor, and unlocked the lone door that was there. Wordlessly they stepped into Ron's luxurious apartment, dimly lit by lamps.
Shrugging off his cloak and hooking it on the coat rack, he turned back to Hannah. "Er, would you like anything to drink?"
She cocked her head to one side. "Some firewhiskey?"
"Coming right up." He gave her a smile, and then walked into his living room and over to the mini-bar. She followed, walking slowly as she surveyed the handsome room. In front of the fireplace, Hannah noticed, a chessboard was set up, the black and white pieces gleaming in the firelight.
She sighed. "Chess, I love chess."
Ron looked up, his hand still on the bottle of alcohol. "You do?" He asked, surprised.
"Yes, I do." Hannah turned to him. "You know what I like even more than chess?"
He gave her a puzzled glance. "Screaming yo-yos?"
She shook her head at him, and it was then Ron noticed the flirtatious glow in her eyes. "Strip chess."
---
Following her tiff with Ron, Hermione had fled to the reception hall's bathroom to collect herself. She'd locked herself in one of the stalls, wiping her eyes and sniffling. Sitting in her doldrums, she almost wanted to laugh, remembering the last time she'd hid in a bathroom because she was upset with him. But so exasperated she was with him that, even when she heard him giving his speech, she didn't even care to hear it, and instead stayed in the stall where she was.
After twenty or thirty minutes of this, she took several deep breaths, feeling herself finally calming down, and finally left the bathroom. She knew she was going to bump into Ron again out there, and any more arguing he wanted to do, she was ready. However, upon reentering the reception hall, a quick survey of the room told her that he wasn't anywhere to be found.
Hermione's eyebrows drew together pensively as she wondered where he could be. She was able to locate Percy, though, still seated at the dining table with Penelope, feasting on generous helpings of baked Alaska.
"Percy?" She asked, approaching the table. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where Ron is? I was, er, indisposed, and... now I can't find him anywhere."
"I believe he mentioned going back home to the hotel," the elder Weasley replied. "He seemed distracted; he left not long after giving his speech."
He seemed distracted. The words had an effect on Hermione, on multiple levels. The entire argument they'd been having tonight, the prospect of tearing down Flourish and Blotts, was - according to Ron - the decision of the very person sitting in front of her, and she thought, Maybe it isPercy I should be angry with, not Ron. Maybe that's why he left unhappy tonight, because he doesn't want to see the bookstore destroyed, either.
And then, suddenly, a rush of empathy flooded through her. She really needed to talk to Ron now. Hermione didn't even bother to give Percy a 'thank-you', or any other reply; she turned on her heel and left the reception hall as quickly as she could, intent on getting downstairs to the foyer, where she could Floo to the hotel.
Since the gala was still many hours away from being over, the lift was empty, thankfully. Hermione slipped through the gold-gated doors, and once it let her off at the ground floor, she strode quickly over to the fireplace, tossing in a bit of powder from the jar on the mantle, stepped over the hearth, and shouted her destination.
With a speedy whirl and a flash of green, Hermione found herself in the lobby of the Phoenix Inn in no time, stumbling over the grate in her hurry to find Ron. She dusted some excess fireplace ash from her dress, and then walked across the room, stepping inside yet another lift, pressing the button for the top floor, the penthouse apartment.
His door was unlocked when she tried it, so Hermione walked right in, as she had done many times while working for him. The corridor hadn't been very well lit, but the entrance hall in the apartment was, and for a moment Hermione had to blink her eyes to adjust. "Ron?" She called. "I need to speak with you!"
But the next person she saw definitely was not Ron.
Sauntering in from the kitchen, a cold bottle of butterbeer in each hand, Hannah appeared giggly and excited, not to mention scantily dressed, clad only in a black full slip. When she saw Hermione, however, her expression blanched. "Oh, Merlin! Hermione, what are you -"
" - Doing here?" She finished. "Well, I was looking for Ron, actually."
Hannah appeared glued to the spot, obviously still flabbergasted. Mutely, she gestured towards the living room. But Hermione didn't even have to take a single step forward because, the moment Hannah pointed, the man in question himself came strolling out into the entrance hall.
When she saw him, Hermione swallowed hard. Ron too, was not fully dressed - he was shirtless; the only items of apparel he was still wearing was his tie and pants. The fact didn't hinder, though, what was obviously going on. She almost could feel herself getting dizzy at the thought. Everything was turning into one big, bad dream.
"Hermione!" He croaked, looking petrified. "I - I didn't expect to see you -"
"Clearly not," she replied tightly. "I was hoping we could talk about the bookstore closure a little more; I actually came over here to apologize! But forget it, I can see you're too busy with... other matters."
"No!" He exclaimed desperately. "Hannah and I were just... we were, well... playing some chess, that's all."
But Hermione backed up, all the way to the front door, until she bumped into it. She gripped the knob as hard as she could. "Believe me, Ron, I understand!" She said in mock cheerfulness. "Why, I was just about to go and have some sex myself!"
And with that, she jerked the door open and ran out, slamming it closed behind her.
---
Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzzzzzz. Buzz, buzz.
Ginny Potter was growing crankier with every step towards her front door. It was late, she'd been sleeping, but the door buzzer had gone off, and because it had awaken only her - Harry was still laying dead asleep next to her - she'd had to drag herself out of bed to answer it. The person at the door was really leaning on the buzzer, becoming more and more persistent the longer they had to wait.
Finally she reached the door and flung it back impatiently. "What is it?" She snapped.
Hermione was standing there, still in her yellow evening gown, holding a pair of stiletto pumps out to her. "Thanks for your shoes," she murmured quickly, and turned away from the door without another word.
But Ginny, fully awake now at seeing it was her best friend who'd been at her door, dropped the shoes and rushed out after her. "Hey, wait a minute!" She exclaimed, grabbing Hermione's arm. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's nothing," she replied, sniffling.
"Come on," the redhead said gently. "You think I don't know when you're crying? Or why? Now sit down and tell me what went wrong with my brother."
The two women seated themselves on the front steps of the stoop, Ginny wrapping a comforting arm around her friend. "Damn you for being right!" Hermione cried, leaning against her shoulder. "I guess I knew all along that you were, but damn you anyway."
"Yeah, I love you, too," Ginny chuckled, trying to cheer her up.
Hermione let out a small sob, but then sucked it in quickly. "It's not supposed to be like this, Gin. It's not! Not after sharing sixteen years' worth of friendship with him."
"Well, maybe it is," she replied compassionately. "I mean, think about it. It's just like Shakespeare wrote, 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' And I had to fight for Harry, remember? It was the best thing I ever did."
This eased a watery smile out of Hermione. "Really?"
"Without a doubt."
"Then tell me what to do, Ginny, please," she said, her voice wobbling. Her tears were flowing freely now, and she hastily wiped them away with her stole. "It's as if he has to go through every other witch on the planet before getting around to me."
"Well, maybe he's saving the best for last," the redhead murmured, smiling.
---
To be continued...