Warning: Use of bad language in this chapter.
He couldn't stop staring. Ron didn't think he could ever stop staring at the two of them. Dancing. Dancing together. Slow-dancing. As she sang along to some stupid Muggle song. Hermione, his Hermione, dancing with Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater. He couldn't move, couldn't think, his limbs frozen. Maybe he'd stay this way forever, frozen to this very spot, and people would have to move around him, like water flowing around a rock in a stream.
As if sensing his presence, Hermione turned, turned to look at him with confusion and worry and apprehension in her eyes. Six months, it had been nearly six months since they had last seen each other, and this was the reception he got?
"Ron?" she said, as if not believing, or maybe hoping, that he was not really there. The feeling went both ways. But all he could say was, "Hermione Granger, why the hell are you dancing with Draco freaking Malfoy?"
Draco noticeably tensed, but Hermione put a hand on his arm, as if she were comforting him, as if she didn't want him to get upset. As if he deserved to be within ten miles of Hermione.
"Malfoy," Ron practically spat the word as if it was acid.
"Weasel," Draco said mildly.
"Get your hands off of Hermione," Ron snarled.
The bastard didn't even blink. "This is Hermione's Charity Ball, and she can dance with whoever she wants to. You're not her keeper, Weasley, and you should treat her with the respect that she deserves," Malfoy shot back.
"Draco," Hermione said quietly. Warningly.
Malfoy nodded, but the git had the nerve to smile at her as he stepped away, as if he was claiming her. He reined in the urge to punch the living daylights out of the slimy bastard.
"Ron, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, arms held tight around herself. As if she was trying to ward him off.
"What, can I not come to fancy parties anymore? Here I thought you were so accepting of all wizarding folk. Guess I'm just not on that list, right?" he mocked.
"Ron, that's not fair and you know it. Don't turn this night, which is about raising money for everyone into your personal mope-fest. I won't stand for it. Now, if you're not going to at least try to be civil, please leave."
Ron let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, 'mione. I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this. I thought that you'd apologize, then I'd apologize, then we could go back to how things used to be. I know I wasn't a very good boyfriend, but I can learn to be. Listen, the Chudley's are in America and they offered me a spot on the team for next season. Isn't that great?"
Hermione's jaw actually dropped, and her hands curled into fists, bracelets bulging at the movement. "You came here, interrupted my evening, were rude to my friend, then have the audacity to not only go on about me apologizing for something I am not ashamed of, but try to get back together with me? In the same sentence. Do you even hear yourself?" she asked incredulously.
"Look, I know I messed up-"
"Messed up? Messed up is spilling a drink on the carpet, breaking a vase or being late for a date. You went out and kissed the first witch to give you more than a passing look while I tried to fix what I had done. Then you weren't even sorry when you were caught. Then you got angry and made everything about you, when all I did was try to help you. And you didn't listen. And where has that got you, Ronald? Going out to the early hours, barely keeping your place at the Ministry, getting into a fight with your brother, when he had done nothing wrong. He lost his twin, and he is certainly handling it better than you are. At least he's talking to his family and friends, not pushing them away in some self-destructive hissy fit. I loved you. I loved you for years. I waited, for years, for you to open your eyes and get it into your head that I was right there, and that how I felt about you wasn't how I felt for Harry.
"Then you went off with Lavender, making out in front of me all the time. And I think, I think a part of you knew how I felt, and you were saying you didn't feel the same. Then everything with the Locket happens, and I thought that you had finally changed, grown up and become the man I always believed you could be. And you fought for me, in this very castle. And I fought for you. But I can't keep fighting for you, Ron. I won't waste my life trying. I deserve to be happy, to find someone who makes me happy, the way I once dreamed you could. And I want that for you, too, Ron. I want you to be happy, to heal and get over this darkness. I want us to be friends again, the way we used to. But just friends."
"And I suppose," Ron ground out through clenched teeth, "that Malfoy makes you happy?"
"We are not like that! He is my friend, my best friend, but we are nothing more, and don't you go insinuating otherwise because you're angry I said no. Don't be that petty. That's not the Ron I know."
"So I'm just supposed to sit back and watch you to being such great pals, the Gryffindor Princess and the Death Eater. Hermione, his aunt tortured you! In his house! And he did nothing! He bullied us, both of us, for years, said he'd wanted you to get killed by the Basilisk! He tried to kill Dumbledore."
"First, Draco is no longer a Death Eater, and in my heart I believe he never was one, since I did not wish to be one in the first place and was only forced to take the Mark after his father was sent to Azkaban. Because of us. We had a hand in what happened to him, the choices he made. And he didn't identify us, when they brought us to the Manor. Of course he knew it was us, how could he not have? And as for his actions during our school years, can you blame him? Say if that had been you, if you'd been brought up like that, under Lucius, would you have been so different? You yourself are a Pureblood, after all."
"But I'm not one of them!" Ron bellowed.
A few people turned to stare, and at Ron's face quicky averted their gaze.
"One of what?" Hermione asked, voice dripping with distain. Because she knew, of course she knew. She just wanted to hear him say it.
"One of those Purebloods. Death Eater Purebloods."
"Not all Death Eaters were Purebloods," Hermione stated.
Ron had not expected this.
"And?" he questioned.
"And nothing. Voldemort himself was a Half-blood. Not all Purebloods were Death Eaters. You can not associate those in the Twenty-Eight and the wider wizarding society with a certain lineage as evil, Ronald. You can't assign blame like that. If a swan came up and bit you, would you deem every other swan evil, believe that they are creatures not worth of love it kindness or redemption just because one, out of all the swans on the planet, bit you?"
Ron frowned. "We're not talking about swans here, are we?"
"No, Ron, we're not."
"Look, just because you've so nonchalantly forgiven him, doesn't mean that I can," Ron admitted, hands in the pockets of his robes.
"I didn't ask you to. Neither did I ask you to come here and start flinging that crap at Draco. And, for your information, I did not forgiven him as 'nonchalantly' as you believe. It took time, and trust, and honesty, and an open mind. None of which you've given me, or seem to want. So tell me, Ron, do you really want to get back together with me? Or do you just want to go back to the time when you felt whatever you felt for me, when things were not as they are now? Where we had not gone through war and sacrifice?" Hermione asked, a pleasing note in her voice.
"Fine, maybe I do, but that doesn't change anything," he insisted, trying to take her hand. But Hermione retested out if his reach, a look of incalculable sorrow on her face.
"I see, I thought as much. And that's exactly why we can't."
"Why?"
"Because people change, Ron. We owe it to Fred, to Remus and Tonks and Ted and Mad-Eye and all our friends who died, to grow up. To change, to become better. You can't live in a bubble Ron, and you can't ask me to. I won't. I've been through too much to live so naively."
"Don't you bring my brother into this," he snarled at her.
Hermione didn't even flinch. "Why? This is for him, too. Why do you think we're giving money to students wanting to start their own independent businesses? Why do you think it's in Fred's name? He would be proud, proud that what he and George made has inspired young witches and wizards to follow their dreams, with our without money. And you should be proud for him."
"I don't want to be proud for him. I want him to be alive."
"But he isn't, and no one can change that. Just lie I can't change my parents," Hermione told him softly.
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.
Hermione's face turned cold and impenetrable, features spreading with ice like snow on leaves. "Right, you don't know. I fixed my parent's memories today. And do you want to know what they told me? That I'd betrayed them, for what I'd done to them. That they didn't see their daughter in me. That I'd fought in a stupid war and put strangers before my own family. They didn't want anything to do with me, until they've decided whether or not they can forgiven me for trying to keep them safe."
Maybe it was because she had brought up his brother, maybe it was the three glasses of champagne he'd downed before he spotted her, or maybe it was because secretly his heart hurt for he but he didn't want her to know it that he said, "Maybe they were glad for getting a reprieve from your busybody bullshit and trying to tell people how to feel and live their lives!"
Silence.
The room was full of silence.
He hadn't meant to shout, hadn't meant for anyone else to hear.
The music had stopped.
Hermione froze, then actually stumbled, stumbled backwards, as if she'd bene hit with a Stunning spell. But as if sensing her upset, she somehow fell into the arms of Draco Malfoy, who was staring at Ron as if he was deciding the best way to gut him. Narcissa Malfoy had a similar expression on her face. Mrs Malfoy, who he had never even seen smile. How far was Hermione embroiled with this Purebloods?
But Hermione.
Hermione's face was the worst of all, and he would likely never forget how she looked in that moment, like an avenging warrior on the battlefield, blazing with fury and hurt, hurt that went so deep, hurt that could only be inflicted bey someone you once thought the world of.
"How dare you," she whispered, although it carried in the empty space. She let go of Malfoy. "How dare you, for throwing that in my face. At least I was there, at least I tried to make amends, to make peace. But you. You cheated on me, brought me to my lowest. But I clawed myself back up out of that pit. And I did it with Draco's help, with Narcissa's help, because that is what it means to forgive, to reach out a hand when people can't get up on their own. I did not let my grief destroy me, as you have let it do to you. I don't know why I thought you could change, that our friendship was worth something to you. That i was worth something to you. So go to America, Ron, go be a superstar and go to all the fancy parties you want, if that will keep you warm at night. From now on, that's it. I want nothing to do with you. Now get out; you've ruined this night enough."
"With pleasure," he hissed, and stormed out if the room.
He didn't look back.
Not once.
Otherwise he would have seen the tears on Hermione Granger's face.
The next morning, he resigned from the Ministry, wanting to protect at least some scrap of his dignity by not being publicly fired.
By the afternoon, he was gone.
Blaise Zabini leaned against a nearby wall, smiling triumphantly as he watched Draco and Narcissa sit with a sobbing Granger. Draco had even put his black robes around her shoulders. How novel and heroic. Ginny Weasley was ranting bloody murder, and Lovegood was-
"Hello, Blaise."
Right beside him, then.
Blaise didn't even turn his head. "Good evening, Miss Lovegood. I must say, you look most fetching tonight. Green suits you." He took a sip of champagne.
"And gloating doesn't suit you, Blaise," she said airily, but took the drink from his hand and drank it in one go, never breaking his stare.
Interesting.
Oh, it had been so long since he'd had a challenge. Had some fun. And indeed, Miss Luna Lovegood was his biggest challenge yet.
"I have nothing to gloat over," he told her.
Luna quirked a brow. "Really?"
Right, Ravenclaw. New tactic, then.
"I thought you'd be happy, little eagle. If memory serves, you never did partake in the Ronald Weasley fanclub."
Luna didn't even blink. "While me and Ron may have not got along, I do not want to see Hermione hurt, see her private business aired about like so much laundry." She cocked her head, like a bird, eyes squinting at him.
He wondered what she saw.
Nothing good, likely.
Luna smiled, but the gesture was by no means pleasant. "You invited Ron, didn't you? Pointed out Hermione and Draco at just the right moment. Ron's past relationship with Hermione is no secret, neither is his jealousy or his temper. You orchestrated this whole thing, didn't you? But why?"
Luna put out a hand. "Wait. Of course, your reason has not changed: to get Hermione away from Draco."
Blaise chuckled darkly. "I couldn't care less about Granger. I'm trying to get Draco to give up on her."
"And you thought Ron could accomplish that? If he apologized, she would come running back into his arms and forget all about your dear friend."
"Something like that, yes."
Luna shook her head, blonde hair dancing. "Then you're a fool."
Blaise grinned. "Oh, I love it when people call me that. Would you do me the honour, dearest Luna, of telling me why?"
In answer, she pointed at the two heads by the table, one fair and one brown, two people who he been brought together by fate or destiny or whatever, two souls dancing around the other. Two friends, always there for each other, romantic feelings or not. "That is why you are a fool, Blaise Zabini. Because you can't break true love. The true love of best friends, although it will likely how into something else, given time."
"But he won't be happy with her."
"And why is that?"
"Because he's never been happy with anyone. Except us, his friends."
"Ah, but that's what scares you, isn't it? Draco replaced you with Hermione, or so you believe. But there can always be room, should you so wish it," Luna said vaguely.
Damn Ravenclaws.
"I can't go back," he admitted. "I'm in too deep."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm going to help you, the best way I know how."
Blaise laughed, the sound dry and bitter even to his own ears. "And how, Luna darling, are you going to do that?" he purred.
"Why, being your friend of course," she told him.
"Why would you want to be friends with someone like me?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Because I believe you're worth saving, and because your jokes make me laugh."
"I aim to amuse," he said with a mock-bow.
Him. And Looney Lovegood. Friends.
The idea was preposterous.
Totally ridiculous.
No one would believe it. They'd more easily believe that Merlin was still alive or that Harry Potter was half Pygmy Puff.
But he looked at Draco and Hermione, the bond the two had, palpable even from a distance.
And he wondered.
Author's Note: Hello, hello! Happy Sunday! Two chapters in two days. Exciting! So, what did you think? Did you expect that? I'd love with if you left a review and shared your thoughts. Will Luna be able to redeem Blaise, or does she have her own agenda? Will Hermione ever forgive Ron? Will Draco tell Hermione how he feels? With Neville get his own chapter?
All shall be revealed soon.
Until next time.
With love, Temperance Cain.
