A/n: This is a ROMIONE and NOT A DRAMIONE.
If you have read this before, you'll find that this chapter has been rewritten with a number of additions. Big thanks to callieskye for helping me out with this and also for being an excellent beta. Reviews will be highly appreciated.
Edited
Chapter 5: The Meeting
Ron woke at the crack of dawn as the first rays of the sunlight streamed through the open window of his childhood bedroom. Everything was almost the same, only older. The bright orange of the Chudley Cannons posters had faded over the years, and the previous bed had been replaced to accommodate his much taller frame.
He placed his arms under his head and watched the changing hues of the morning sky. He couldn't remember ever having watched the sunrise when he was a kid; he'd always been a horribly late riser. He chuckled dryly to himself at the word- always. The past six years stood in such contrast to the rest of his life that words such as 'always' seemed like a lifetime away.
He hadn't slept well the previous night, nor the one before. In fact, he couldn't recollect even a single instance in a very long time when he had slept peacefully- a time without nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat. He reckoned that by now, he should have been used to it; at least he no longer needed to worry about being killed in his sleep, he thought grimly, that was a plus. The past ten days were the most peaceful he'd experienced in a long time, it was just that his brain had forgotten how to relax, he was constantly on alert.
His thoughts drifted to the many nights, he spent under a dirty canvas, wishing for the warmth and security of his home. Now, here he was, yet the horrors he witnessed stayed with him. Ron closed his eyes as if to block the memories but they seemed to have been burnt into his very eyes. The past few years were the darkest of his life, even worse than the year they'd spent on the run hunting Horcruxes. Back in the days of the hunt, at least he'd had his friends watching his back. He'd had Harry and … Hermione.
Hermione...
She'd finally sent him a note the previous night- the first one in six long years. The tone of the letter was anything but friendly, sans greeting or even a signature. But it was something; he'd take anything at this point.
Turning sideways, he picked up the parchment from his nightstand, and ran his fingers over the familiar handwriting. He feared this meeting was going to go worse than their previous one. It didn't escape his notice that she'd asked to meet in a public place. Had he hurt her so badly that he was no longer welcome in her home? Pain ripped his heart at the thought and he reminded himself that, in a way, he deserved this.
But, she knew him, didn't she? She knew he'd rather die than hurt her. Why had she bought his lies? Didn't she question his words even once over the years? How couldn't she know, that despite all the distance between them, not a day had gone by when he didn't think of her? She should have known that she always was and would always be the sole reason for his existence. Every time he faced death it was her he saw. She was his reason to keep fighting- to see her again, to hold her again. She knew him best. Didn't she? She was supposed to read through the lines. She should have realised... Why didn't she realise? He thought miserably, pulling the pillow over his head and growling into it. What had he done?
He reluctantly grabbed at his clock- ten minutes past six, he might as well get up. Pushing himself off the bed, he headed for a shower. Twenty minutes later, he stood in the dark secluded alley behind the park. As he began walking towards his destination, he noticed how busy the place was despite the early hour. It was clear that she'd chosen the place intentionally. The park itself was crowded with early morning joggers and kids riding their bikes. Elderly people occupied the benches lining the pond.
He moved ahead to stand under a large tree near the water. It reminded him of the place he had proposed to her- almost a lifetime ago. Ron found himself wondering if Hermione would notice the similarity, wondered if she still remembered at all... He had of course, noticed that she no longer wore his ring. He din't understand why he still couldn't give up all hope.
She entered through the gates precisely at seven, and he smiled to himself. It was good to see that some things never changed. She'd tied her hair up and the curls bounced enticingly as she walked. Wearing a very plain white top and a pair of basic blue denims she looked much younger, almost like her seventeen year old self. Ron found himself watching her longingly; almost as a vision from his past. He knew though, that the moment she saw him, her expression would change into that of disdain, or worse, indifference.
He saw her come to a stop before she glanced at her watch, and then scanned crowd... He knew she was searching for his telltale hair, and sure enough, the moment she caught his eye, she looked away and her expression hardened.
Once she reached him, she gave him a curt nod before taking a look around. For the briefest of moments, he thought there was something in her eyes, something she was trying to hide- but then the moment was gone, and he was left wondering if it had just been wishful thinking.
"Follow me," she indicated ahead, away from the pond and the tree.
"Sure," he replied softly and followed as she headed towards a small table for two, which had a chess set placed on it. They sat across from each other and Ron couldn't stop himself from looking at her. A few stray locks had freed themselves from the confines of her hair-tie, distracting him as they swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. He barely managed to repress the urge to tuck them behind her ear. Hermione possibly noticed his line of vision; her fingers nervously tucked the curls behind her ear and cleared her throat softly, interrupting his musings.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked finally, realising with regret how strained their interactions had become.
She pressed her lips briefly and nodded, her expression cool. "Yes, I need to return something that's yours."
In response to his surprised gaze she retrieved a familiar wooden box from the bag she had placed on the ground next to her chair. He smiled a little at the sight of the object and looked up at her as she started speaking, very consciously this time.
"Your Mum gave this to me when-" she bit her lip, "-while you were away," she finished. Her words held no emotion. "She wouldn't have, I'm sure, if you had told her-anyway..." she shrugged and handed the box to him. As he took it their fingers brushed and their eyes met almost instinctively, her mask of indifference falling away for the briefest of seconds. But then, she pulled her hand away and quickly averted her eyes.
Ron found her focusing her attention on a toddler and his mother in the distance, her jaw stiff and breathing deeply as if she was preparing herself for something else. He could sense that she was using all her willpower to remain civil; probably hating every minute that she was forced to spend in his presence.
"There is one more thing." she almost whispered still looking away.
Ron placed the box next to the chessboard, his eyes drawn to it while tracing the carvings with his finger. He gave her a curt nod, instinctively knowing what was coming next. He'd realised that whatever farfetched hopes he had about getting her back were about to be crushed. She was here to deal the deathblow. Sure enough, Hermione held another small box in her outstretched hand. Ron looked up marginally, avoiding her gaze. He couldn't let her see his vulnerability; he knew he wasn't ready to watch her impassive face as she ended everything that had existed between them.
She placed the small box on his open palm and he closed his fingers around it. Tears were making his vision blurry and he could barely make out the outlines of the velvet case. She had chosen the location well, he thought bitterly, breaking his heart in a park full of Muggles.
He got up suddenly and turned away, fisting the box tightly and breathing deeply to prevent tears from escaping.
"I guess I'll leave," she said softly, and he wondered how she might be feeling at the moment. Vindicated perhaps?
"I have just one thing to ask from you," he said, still looking away and willing his voice not to crack. She remained silent but didn't move so he continued.
"I haven't told anyone yet, dinna wanna to spoil the excitement of the upcoming wedding. Ya know how Mum and Dad feel about you... and Harry and Gin, o'course... But I'll- I'll tell them after... once all this is over. Just don't let them know now.
You don't have to act friendly or anything. Feel free to hate me. Everyone will just assume you're still mad at me, yeah?" he chuckled drily, "And please don't worry about having to put up with me while you're at the Burrow, either. I'll keep out of your way as much as possible. Just let it be until the wedding is over, please?"
She was silent for such a long time that he thought she'd left without replying. But then she spoke, hesitance evident in her words.
"Fine," she muttered softly. "Bye then" she added but he didn't bother to look around. And with that she left. Ron couldn't bring himself to watch her walk away.
...
Her chest hurt.
As she walked away from the park and towards her apartment, she couldn't shake off the seed of guilt that had erupted within her. She reprimanded herself firmly. Why was she feeling guilty anyway!? She had only returned something which shouldn't have been in her possession for so long in the first place!
And yet, she couldn't forget the tone of his voice when he asked her not to tell the others. She knew him well enough to know when he was genuinely hurt... She faltered mid-step and admonished herself.
Why would he be hurt? She didn't break up with him! He broke up with her! Six and a half years ago! Surely this was just acting on his part to make her feel sorry for him. She'd lost her Ron six years ago; she owed nothing to the man in the park.
But Ron had never been good at hiding his emotions, her brain reminded her and her breath hitched, the mask she had been wearing since morning threatened to slip. A lot can change in six years, she reminded herself. She was also easy to read especially for Ron. He knew how to make her mad, how pacify her; how to… break her heart; he knew her too well.
She was with Draco now. It was all the more necessary that she returned the ring.
A thought she usually kept buried deep in her heart and rarely ever acknowledged resurfaced, but she pushed it away along with the guilt that accompanied it. She shook her head as if to banish the thought. She was not leading Draco on, she reminded herself sternly. Her conscience laughed at her, sounding very much like Ginny.
Was she really as madly in love with Draco as she had convinced him she was? She'd spent countless nights assuring herself that she had moved on and yet… She wanted to believe that she hated Ron and that he deserved her hate and nothing else. But clinging onto the past would bring nothing but pain. Hadn't she had enough?
She bit her lip, closing her eyes for a brief moment and took a few deep, steadying breaths. She had done what she was supposed to, she told herself. It had gone as well as she could have expected.
Yes, except for the way her heart had twisted at his sight, her conscience pointed out.
It's hatred, ONLY HATRED! she reminded herself, cursing the spiral of self-loathing that was beginning to draw her down. But she wouldn't fall for it, not now when there were more important matters to be taken care of. She had to keep it together for the wedding, she would stay strong. For Ginny… for Harry.
A decision had been made. She wouldn't question it, especially not with the impending visit to the Burrow.
At least he would keep his distance now. She could keep up the pretence for a while if it ensured the happiness of all the people she loved, couldn't she? After all, it was just a matter of days which would surely pass quickly in the hustle-bustle of the upcoming wedding.
Additionally, she didn't fancy being in the Weasley house when Ron made that particular confession. Facing Molly after the disclosure wasn't something she was exactly looking forward to.
She shook her head to clear it as she entered the lift.
She would now get ready and leave for the Burrow, she told herself and she would enjoy the wedding of her two closest friends. Yes, she would do just that, she decided firmly.
...
Ron stood alone for a long time, and when he couldn't take it anymore, he picked up the wooden box, stuffed the velvet case into his pocket and walked towards the dark secluded alley. Once he was hidden enough in the shadows, he paused for only a heartbeat before Disapparating.
He appeared with a crack in his own London flat, the one he'd bought a few days after his return. It was decently sized and had a couple of bedrooms and a study. It came partially furnished. But most importantly, it was a place that held no memories of Hermione.
He dropped the box on the couch; it fell with a plop and bounced off to drop on the floor. Without bothering to pick it up he dug out the smaller case and opened it. The sight of his ring brought a fresh wave of pain and yet, he found himself picking it up. He didn't know what he was hoping for. She had cut him out of her life and the proof lay in the palm of his hand, but his heart seemed unwilling to accept it. He rolled the small article almost reverently between his long calloused fingertips and turned it till he could read the inscription.
"Always yours"
She'd returned it. She didn't want him anymore. Hermione didn't want him anymore.
Suddenly it was harder to breathe.
What was he supposed to do? He didn't know how to live without her, how would he survive?
Even during the past six years of his life, miles away from her, she had been his anchor, his reason to see his mission through, his reason to return. And now she didn't want him...
The metal object, held tightly within his fist, tore into skin and yet, he couldn't let go. She had worn it on her finger, it was the last piece of Hermione he had- would ever have.
She didn't want him anymore.
He staggered back, watching the front wall unseeingly, feeling utterly lost and empty and collapsed on the floor. Finally opening his palm he embraced the pain the sight of the ring brought. Ron could no longer hold back his tears, his head fell to his knees as sobs wracked his chest, the ring still held tightly in his fist.
