a/n: THIS IS A ROMIONE AND NOT A DRAMIONE
A big shout out to my friend and beta Callieskye who continues to insist that she doesn't like angst but ensures she makes this so deliciously angsty by her magic touches here and there.
Also, this chapter is for Kulitto, I'm sorry I can't provide the old draft, I hope this helps a tiny bit tho?
Chapter 11: Midnight Realisations
Saturday night found the Burrow bursting at the seams with all the Weasley boys and their better halves staying back. Harry, who was trying his level best to act in control and unperturbed by Ginny's sudden and totally unexpected anxiety attack, was seriously questioning his decision to stay the night at the Weasley house. Ginny was usually the one in control, and to see her so jittery was making him more nervous than he already was. Surely she wasn't planning to call off the wedding? Nah, she wouldn't go to that extreme, he was sure. But yeah, he had no freaking clue how to calm his fiancée, and definitely not while he was struggling to come to terms with his own mixed feelings. On one hand, he was ecstatic, so much so that he was sure his brain still hadn't comprehended it completely. Finally, after years of waiting, he was going to marry Ginny; they'd have their own little family and he wouldn't be the only Potter. However, there was also an ache in his heart. He missed his parents, just as much as he missed Sirius and Lupin.
He was quite relieved when Molly shooed everyone to bed after an early dinner. He needed the time alone to sort his head. He was among the first to tread up the stairs and retire to his room, leaving Ginny clinging to her father as she had been doing all day.
Harry had already changed into his pyjamas when the sound of a slightly heavier footstep approached. Dropping down on his bed, he watched with a fond smile as his best mate entered the room and shut the door behind him.
Ron was back. He was marrying Ginny. And Ron was finally back.
The heaviness in his chest eased substantially, and he grinned at his best mate.
"Hey," Ron called as he peeled off his jacket and dropped it on the bed. "You practically ran outta there the moment Mum said 'go'. You okay?"
"Yeah," he replied honestly, feeling lighter, happier. He was being an idiot. His family was right here- Ron was right here. "Nerves, mate. No experience of getting married, you see-"
"Wedding jitters, eh?" Ron grinned.
"It's real, Ron! Trust me!"
Ron laughed harder, the first time in days, as he sat down on his bed, "Don't go and faint during the wedding. Ginny won't like it one bit," he chortled.
"Wanker! I'll see how you cope when Herm-"
The rest of the words died on his lips as quickly as the mirth did on Ron's features.
"Fuck," Harry swore, berating himself.
Ron let out a small, sad chuckle and looked away, busying himself with getting out of his tee while Harry admonished himself furiously.
He wanted to coax Ron into a discussion, force him somehow to talk to Hermione and sort out this mess. His brain kept telling him to shut the fuck up and not make matters worse, but he needed his best friends to get back together and be happy. Seeing Hermione clad in Ron's oversized button-down the other day had given him much needed ray of hope. Maybe all was not lost yet, maybe their relationship was still salvageable?
"Spoke to her yet?" he asked before Ron could lie down and (he was sure) fake sleep.
"No."
The tone was indicative enough of Ron's reluctance to discuss the matter further but Harry wasn't planning to give up so easily. Hermione and Ron hadn't given up on him when he was a mess after he lost Sirius.
"Look, I think she's cooling down a bit. Maybe you can try-"
"Harry," Ron cut him off mid-sentence. "It's over, mate," he added, words laced with deep melancholy, "She might be curious, perhaps she never thought I'd keep my word, y'know? But that's all it is. There's nothing more from her end than curiosity. Nothing."
"That good though," he mused aloud, "she's rubbish at controlling her curiosity. She's bound to give you a chance to explain," he insisted.
"She might no longer be the girl I- we knew," Ron replied in a quiet voice.
"Say what you will, mate, but behind all that hurt, she's the same Hermione we've always known." Harry pondered briefly before mentioning what had been on his mind since the day before. "Ron, I- we saw her wearing your shirt the other day, and it - hey! where're do ya think you're going at this hour?!"
"Outside, I forgot something at Grimmauld Place," Ron provided as he hurried to grab the tee he had discarded earlier.
Great, now his big mouth had made it worse.
"You can't run away from this forever," he grumbled, but Ron chose not to answer as he looked hurriedly for his wand.
Harry sat up on his bed and watched stoically as Ron retrieved his jacket from the bed.
"Firewhiskey won't solve this for you, Ron."
Ron let out a bitter chuckle. "Nothing will- but I need to get out. I'll be back in a bit."
As he pulled the door open Harry cursed aloud before he called out one last time. "If you come back sloshed, I swear I'll kick your arse before Ginny kills you, Ron!" Harry heard a small laugh as the door clicked shut.
…..
He ran into Hermione and his sister on his way down. Ginny glanced at him curiously and he smiled dismissively before hastening past as Hermione moved over to give him more than enough space. He didn't look at her face. He'd avoided her religiously since the day he'd seen her walk out of the bath; he had to keep his heart safe, keep the act of normalcy going.
His steps guided him out of the door, deep into the orchard, but the soreness in his heart refused to dim. If the pain of losing her wasn't enough, now, each waking minute in her presence reminded him how he'd lost her- along with the will to live.
Deep in the thicket, he slumped down on a rotting piece of wood and yelled hoarsely at the wilderness. It was getting harder; he was only human after all.
After what seemed like ages, he picked himself up. Walking briskly, Ron Disapparated the moment he crossed the Burrow's protective perimeter. He appeared in a dark alleyway somewhere in the heart of London. He hurried his steps, hopefully, a pub somewhere would still be open- he desperately needed a drink.
Ron entered the first bar he could find and regretted it almost immediately. The crowd and the ambience were disturbingly familiar. He had almost turned to leave when a bloke behind the bar called.
"Drink?"
He glanced at the bottle of whiskey and weighed his options. At this hour, every muggle bar would probably be the same. He could go to the Leaky, but people would recognise him. The Prophet wasn't happy being kept away from covering the wedding; they were desperate for something to report. They'd print anything at this point, the more malicious the better. 'Harry Potter's best mate found drunk the night before the big day' would make for a rubbish headline but it would still sell like hot cauldron cakes.
"On the rocks," he ordered and sat himself down on the rickety old stool.
Halfway through his third bottle, and still miserably sober, he took in the smoke-filled room and the general stink. Everything in there was a trigger, and his perpetual headache was getting worse but what he had come here to forget hadn't faded a bit from his memories.
Fuck, Harry!
He could still visualize her so clearly- clad in that damp towel, water droplets clinging onto her skin and glistening in the light- a stark reminder of all that he craved, all that he'd once had… and all that he'd lost forever. He let out an exhausted sigh. She was everything- his hopes, his dreams... his will to live.
Ron refilled his glass and took another swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He wanted to scream, to cry, to leave everything behind and escape, even if it was back into the forest. He wanted to turn the clock back, to any part of his life except where he currently was. Fuck, he'd do anything, relive the worst days again if only he could get back his hopes of coming back to her, to hear her call his name again without the indifference and hate.
She'd never do that again, would she? There was nothing left in him anymore. She had torn him apart. No... correction. He had made a bloody mess of his life. He should never've hurt her that way, never left her.
Her tear-stained face materialised in front of him and he took a swig to subdue the guilt burning his insides. "You fucking deserve it, Ron!" he told himself. And now she didn't need him anymore. Why the fuck was he still alive?
"I need to get back," he mumbled as he signalled the bartender for another bottle. Gulping down the contents of the glass in one go, he banged the empty glass down on the counter, and the man refilled it yet again.
He had to get out of the Burrow, he decided, and soon.
As happy he was to see his family all safe and celebrating, a core part of himself was missing, perhaps forever. Hopefully, Kingsley wouldn't mind if he joined back up before the fixed date. Harry would be on leave, the team could use a spare hand. "Yeah," he slurred aloud, "gotta join back." he took another swig and laughed bitterly. If he was lucky maybe he'd die on one of the missions this time.
…..
"Hey. Ready to call it a night?" called Hermione, softly.
Ginny, who was sitting on the old couch next to Arthur, glanced up at her words and picked herself up after giving her father a quick hug. Arthur patted his daughter fondly on the head. "Off you go and get some sleep. Don't want to madden your mum, do we?" he joked. The girls chuckled, and after wishing him 'night trudged their way up the staircase.
"Are you okay?" Hermione inquired as they walked side by side.
"Yeah," responded Ginny, the hint of nerves obvious in her tone. "Who knew getting married would be more nerve wracking than playing international Quidditch?"
"I sure didn't," she chuckled in response.
They hastened their steps, the wood creaking under their feet, and were only halfway up to Ginny's bedroom when a pair of heavy and hurried footsteps were heard coming down. Hermione noticed Ron immediately- her senses on high alert. She looked away just as quickly when he came to an abrupt halt before them- Hermione grabbing the bannister hard. Ever since the shirt episode, they had successfully avoided each other. It had been easier to control her messed up emotions this way. Although she dearly loved an intense mental exercise, she knew the situation was way too complicated for her to make sound judgements- avoidance was the best option. He was already making a dent in her armour and her pride was not enjoying that one bit. And for that very reason, she needed Ron to leave right away- the situation was much too familiar and agonising.
Lost in her thoughts she missed the short conversation between the siblings but scooted as close to Ginny as she could to give him enough space to hurry downstairs. A small part of her wanted to know where he was off to and why he was in such a rush, but she nipped that thought in the bud, choosing to take a few hurried steps upstairs instead.
"I wonder where he's off to at this hour," mused his sister, putting words to her thoughts and Hermione pretended not to have heard.
Once in the bedroom, Ginny collapsed on her old bed, sighing softly. "I don't stay at home very often anymore, but I'm still gonna miss all this, y'know?" she said, patting the mattress.
"I know what you mean, Ginny. But don't worry, it's just a four-second Apparation away. Plus, Harry wouldn't miss one of your Mum's Sunday dinners, of that I'm sure."
"Or...maybe he will if we have other plans..." grinned Ginny, while Hermione spat out the water she was drinking, coughing wildly.
"Oh, please, Ginny! No details! Harry's like my brother and that's just- just gross!" she sputtered, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.
"Oh come on! I wouldn't say 'gross'! I'd say-" laughed Ginny, as she started stripping.
"-uh oh! Too much information there, lady!"
They laughed as they changed into their nightwear and Hermione cross checked all the items they would need the next morning before she collapsed on her bed. Ginny, she noticed, was lying on her side, picking a thread on the bedspread.
"It all feels a bit-"
"-surreal?" she provided as she laid down and turned to her right to face her friend.
"Yeah,"
Hermione glanced at the freckled face, the candlelight glinting off her sleek red hair and smiled fondly, remembering how pathetic Harry had been back in their sixth year. She clearly remembered their stay during that last carefree summer. Those were the best times with Ginny, Harry, she and Ro-
A sharp exhale left her before she could hold it back. She dropped back on the pillow, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, trying hopelessly to forget the memories that had forced their way to the fore, again.
"There was a time while you guys were away when this day seemed like a far-fetched dream," continued Ginny, "- I didn't think we've ever make it this far."
"I know…" she breathed softly while a couple of tears trickled their way down the rim of her eyes.
"I always hoped we were made for each other, y'know?" Ginny spoke again, unaware how her words tore through Hermione, reminding her of a future she had once so desired- a future which she knew was an impossible dream now. "Hoped we'd get through everything and make it happen. It was hard when Harry broke it off with me; I never wanted to believe it'd be anyone but him."
Hermione only managed a small sound to indicate she was still awake and listening; her throat so terribly choked up it felt as if she was being strangled from the inside out.
"But it's all past us now. I am so happy, Hermione,"
She inhaled deeply and with much difficulty, before turning toward Ginny once more, "I am so happy for the two of you. You guys made it!" she beamed, eyes glistening, hoping feverently for Ginny to mistake them as happy tears.
"I know," smiled Ginny, and held on to her gaze till it made Hermione uncomfortable. It was as if Ginny could see right through the lies and was reading her mind. Hermione looked away quickly and wiped off the tears with her hand.
"I should probably keep my tears in check till your vows tomorrow. And we should really catch some sleep now. G'night Gin."
Hermione blew out the candle and turned to face the wall, pulling the blanket over her, a steady stream of moisture still running down her face and soaking the pillow.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?" she replied, face buried in the cushion.
"You guys are okay, right?"
She didn't need to ask what Ginny was referring to. The longing in Ginny's voice was way too much, and Hermione was sorely tempted to tell her friend the truth, and for once, let out the pain and cry her eyes out.
"Yeah, we'll be okay," she lied instead.
"I sure hope so. You guys are so miserable without each other."
…..
Miles away in London, a pale, young man stood on the small balcony jutting out from his tenth floor flat, gazing off into the horizon.
He had a busy schedule the following week and his body begged to sleep, but he hadn't heard from her all day- in fact, he hadn't received a single letter in two whole days. He was well aware that the ache in his heart would not subside by taking a nap. His impatience and jealousy grew as the hours passed, and so did the fear of losing her.
Perhaps she was busy helping out, he told himself. Obviously, the pathetic Weasleys wouldn't be able to afford additional help, he thought bitterly. But he knew his hate was not directed at the whole family. In fact, it wasn't even true anymore. The Weasley children were all very successful now. There was just one reason for his resentment- Ronald Weasley.
Images of Ron and Hermione together haunted his nightmares, and the situation was made worse by her silence. He had received precious little news from her end- just a few lines stating she was well. And it could be his bitterness clouding his perception, but her letters no longer seemed to emit the warmth they earlier did. He wondered if the weasel had finally managed to worm his way back into her heart.
Perhaps he had begged her to take her back and she couldn't resist?
Rage and pain crashed in equal measure at the thought and he began pacing to lose steam. No, Hermione wouldn't do such a thing, he told himself over and over. Weasley had hurt her too much. She was too proud to take him back, he told himself. He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to push his doubts aside.
But how long would she be able to guard her heart against him?
They went back a long way and as much as his jealousy wanted him to deny it, their bond was not so fragile. In fact, it was ridiculously strong, far more than his and Hermione's any day. They would have to come face to face- family gatherings, criminal cases, charity events- the list was endless. And wouldn't seeing him day after day break her resolve?
As much as he pretended he was okay, he hated that his relationship with Hermione had stalled…. physically. They often spent their nights together but the intimacy was limited to kissing and on some occasions a precious little more. She claimed she needed time, and he had promised her he'd take it as slow as she needed. He wanted to pretend it was a gentleman's move but the truth was he was fucking scared of jeopardizing his dreams. He promised her he'd wait till she was ready, but now with Ron Weasley in the picture, would she ever be ready?
Fear, doubt and envy clouded his vision and he rushed inside to fetch a drink.
After one bottle of Firewhiskey lay empty in front of him, he wobbled his way to the bedroom.
"Tomorrow," he announced as he slumped on the bed. He was done being scared- scared of losing her, scared of Weasley taking her away. He wanted her back, he wanted her forever. He had lost everything once before, Hermione was all he had left. He wasn't ready to lose this time. He needed her. Draco decided he couldn't afford to waste any more time. Once she was back, he'd ask her to marry him and be his forever.
"You'll be mine, only mine," he declared into the empty room as sleep claimed him.
…
Unbeknown to all of them, Destiny had made her own plans. And she had already marked a pawn. She would make the first move tomorrow.
a/n: Thanks for reading! Hope y'all liked it. Let me know, won't you?
