Nothing is Permanent
And he still loves her after all these years
By Sad Story
Two children play in the sand as they try to cup the silvery grains in their small hands. The flaming red hair atop the head of one of the children is showering sand into his eyes. He steals a bucket from the other child, a small girl with curly brown hair, as soft and shiny as only a toddler's could be. The girl in return takes a shovel from the boy, and two continue to play.
How amazing children are muses Ron Weasley as he watches his son play in the sandpit with a girl he has only just met to be able to make friends so quickly. He watches the children, who are playing together but are at the same time playing by themselves, completely unaware of the other's company. Sometimes he misses being a child.
"Is that your son?"
Ron turns to look at the woman who has just sat down on the park bench next to him. He nods, and gazes fondly at his child who is a parallel image of himself, save the texture of his hair. The toddler's fiery red hair falls in curls around his freckled, smiling face. "Yes." He watches as the two children begin to build a sand castle. "And she is yours?"
"Yes, she's my little angel," replies the woman affectionately. "Your son looks just like you," she adds with a look between father and son.
"And your daughter does you," says Ron automatically out of courtesy. He turns towards the woman and finds his comment immediately vindicated. The woman is quite attractive, with wavy brown hair slight with frizz and deep chocolate brown eyes—"Hermione?" he finds himself blurting.
"Yes?" asks the woman, but then a dawn of realization comes over her attractive features, and she flings her arms around his neck. "Ron—oh—I haven't seen you in such a long time." She pulls away and strokes her own hair while watching the children. "You're married?"
"Divorced," says Ron in a tight voice. Hermione's eyes take on the sympathetic look females are prone to have when hearing such news. But before she can say anything Ron speaks; he does not want any more sympathy. "Everything is fine, though. And you—you're married?"
Hermione smiles. "Oh, yes," she says with a voice of a woman truly in love. With her lovely brown eyes, she watches the children. Ron turns slightly on the bench and watches his son tip a pail of sand onto the girl's head.
The girl immediately bursts into tears. Ron feels he should scold his son, but finds he suddenly has no energy to do so. "Mommy—Mommy, the mean boy poured sand all over my head!" She runs over to Hermione, who takes her in a large hug and strokes her hair. Ron watches, thinking what a good mother Hermione is, and the girl quiets down.
"There, Jane, everything is okay," says Hermione tenderly.
Jane wipes her tears away before looking up at Ron, and he sees her eyes, still glistening, are a vivid green. They are eyes that Ron would recognize anywhere. He looks up at Hermione as Jane runs back to the sandbox to build her sandcastle. "You're married to Harry?"
"Yes, we started dating a year after the war ended," says Hermione, somewhat cautiously. "We would've invited you to the wedding—but we kind of broke off contact. Thought it would be kind of weird, you know—didn't think you would want to come…"
Of course I would want to come thinks Ron. "Congratulations," he says. "Really, I mean it. I always thought you two would get together." This is a lie. It had never once crossed Ron's mind that anyone would be dating Hermione except himself.
"Thank you," she says. She stands up; the sun is beginning to set, and Hermione's skin looks scathingly beautiful. When she smiles at him, it is a smile that Ron never forgot, and thinks of often. "Well, I should go. It was nice running into you."
"All right. Bye Hermione." His arms gesture involuntary, asking for a hug. Embarrassed, Ron quickly turns this into a wave. She waves back.
As she is leaving, Jane asks, "Who was that mommy?"
And Ron distinctly hears Hermione say, "Oh, just an old friend."