Chapter 3

Well, that had gone well. Ron and Seamus had come in, singing some Irish song loudly, slurring every word. Within ten minutes Seamus was passed out on the lumpy old couch and Hermione and Ron were having a blazing argument over her new career. Ron finally ended it, yelling, "Fine! Go off and achieve your stupid dreams! The only thing I ever got that I wanted was you, and what a load of rubbish you've wound up being!" He'd then slammed and locked their bedroom door. She slept on the couch often enough that it wouldn't have really mattered, but Seamus was occupying that position tonight. Besides, she didn't really want to be here in the morning. She grabbed an overnight kit out of the bathroom and a few articles of clothing out of the dryer, stuffed them into a bag, and Flooed to the Potters'.

When Hermione climbed out of the fireplace, coughing, Ginny hurried into the living room.

"Sorry to just pop in on you like this," Hermione said, "but I seem to be in need of a place to stay tonight."

"Ron tossed you out again?" Ginny replied, concerned.

"Oh, no, he didn't throw me out. Just locked me out of the bedroom, and Seamus was sleeping on the couch. We had a bit of a row."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Actually, I have really big news that you need to hear first. Where's Harry?"

"In the nursery. I'm sure he'll be down in a minute; Ana always hears the Floo and has to investigate."

Sure enough, Harry and little Liliana Grace, with tousled red curls and big green eyes, joined them momentarily. For several months after this little one was born two years ago, Molly had pestered Hermione about her reproductive habits. Gradually, the requests had died out; Molly had probably noted her son's drinking and behavior problems. Hermione was relieved that she had never gotten pregnant, but that didn't stop her from adoring Ana.

For a moment, the show was stolen by a warm little body clamoring onto "An Ha-my-nee's" lap. Every time Ana said her name, Hermione remembered another person who had said her name much like that. But such thoughts had to be put away; she'd made her bed a long time ago.

Once Ana made herself comfortable, Hermione shared her good news with her friends. As she'd known they would be, they were thrilled for her. She spent a few happy moments telling them of her plans, until Harry asked tentatively, "What did Ron say?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm here, not home, aren't I?"

"It was that bad?"

"Well…he'd had a bit to drink, so maybe that made it worse. But I doubt it. He just…Oh, Harry, he just doesn't want anyone to be happy. But this is the kind of thing I've dreamed of for years. Nothing I do or don't do is going to make Ron happy. I have to worry about making myself happy for a change, or I'll be miserable for the rest of my life."

Ginny rose and lifted the sleeping child out of Hermione's arms. She and Hermione were very close, but they'd never shared quite the bond Hermione did with Harry. She knew Harry would give Hermione the encouragement she needed, so she'd leave them alone for awhile. "I'm going to put this little bit to bed and pick up her room. I'll be down later."

Hermione moved onto the couch beside Harry and he wrapped her in a hug. "Do you want to talk, or do you want to cry?" he asked.

She laid her head against his shoulder and wept. She wept for her pathetic marriage and the years down the drain. She wept for her husband. But when she finished, she wept with joy for the days to come.

As the weeks passed, everything for the new Ministry division fell neatly into place. Hermione hired eight assistants, highly recommended by her old friend Madam Pince, to handle the office end of things. She fine-tuned some translation spells to use on her trips. Anything spoken would appear in English on a special piece of parchment, and she could translate any written word with an incantation. It would work vise-versa, too.

Two months after her meeting with Tiddlywink, Hermione was prepared for her first trip. She was going in search of an old bookstore in Paris, run by a wizard who was, ages ago, the librarian at Beauxbatons. He had supposedly hidden his store away so that only the very determined could find him, those who really wanted the books he had. Hermione was determined.

The night before she left, Ron beat her home from work. She stopped in the doorway, amazed to find him showered, dressed, and apparently waiting on her.

"I thought maybe we could go out to dinner, since you're taking off tomorrow morning. Haven't had a decent meal all week."

"Sure, we can go out." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

"Then you'd better get cleaned up," he replied, noting the ink on her cheek and her messy curls. "We aren't going anywhere with you looking like that."

That sounded more like Ron. She obeyed, and they went to dinner. Surprisingly, Hermione had a pleasant enough time. Ron talked about the batch of faulty wands that had been shipped from France last week and warned her to be careful. He only had three glasses of wine. As long as she kept her mouth shut about her job, things were fine.

But the next morning, Ron didn't even wake up to tell her goodbye.