"Can you pass the milk?" Ron asked. It had been five days since she returned from Wales, and Hermione had been trying, really trying, to seem like her normal self that the redhaired boy fell in love with, but everything about him took her back to that dreadful night on her dining table.
His comforting sweet cinnamon scent felt sickly and made her nose turn. His face didn't look like his anymore but rather was now shared with that man that entered her for purposes other than affection and his presence wasn't a place of solace but made her lungs seize and heart ache. Still, Hermione was trying, though for reasons that seemed unclear at times.
The witch passed the milk without so much as a glance. She hadn't noticed him come into the kitchen and had been reading her novel in silence.
He seemed to move hesitantly now, always tiptoeing, never wanting to startle her. Maybe if he was normal, she would be too. Maybe this was his fault.
Hermione felt him linger at the counter, his gaze still on her and she glanced up after a couple seconds.
His face fell before he started, "Hermione are we okay?" His voice horse, filled with ache.
The witch's heart got heavier at his question and answered with as much optimistic honesty she could foster. "I don't know Ron; I don't know how to go back to us."
He carefully walked over to Hermione and dropped to his knees, eyes glistening with tears before he clenched his eyes and pushed them back. He took a wavery breath started silently, "I know we can get past this Hermione; you can't give up on us –
"Ron, I'm not but –
"Wait, let me finish. I can promise you that I won't give up, not in a million years. Because I believe in our love, and I know you do too. I'm not the best, I know that Hermione, I'm not even close but I'll work on myself everyday till I am."
Ron hesitated to continue but decided that it was worth it when he finished with, "I wasn't really at George's but an anger management clinic. They have this famous one in France run by this healer, Healer Lafaille, and I was there the whole time. I'm better now than before, I swear. And I'll keep going back for as long as it takes."
Hermione took a shaky breath, stunned at his effort. He was trying, getting help? Her heart cracked a little out of the cage she had placed it in.
She slowly took his hands into hers and spoke, "Really?"
"Yes, I swear on my life."
"Okay," she sighed, "If you're getting help, then I'll try harder."
Ron's face burst into relief, but Hermione spoke again, this time with force and conviction, "Ron, if anything like that ever happens again, if you ever hurt me again, I'm leaving. I will walk out the door and never come back."
He nodded quickly, his face brimming with hope as her wrapped his arms around her waist and placed his head onto her lap.
"I promise 'Mione, I promise on Merlin's grave that it will never happen again."
"Okay then, let's make some breakfast."
Hermione's Tuesday had gone perfectly well at the office, solving not two but three cases before lunch even came around and Kendra, after seeing her progress, had been less cross about her missing work.
When the witch opened the door to her flat, she did a double take, thinking she had barged into a strangers flat. Her apartment was covered in bouquets of various colored roses, along with tulips, sunflowers and even a cactus. She could hear Ron mumbling in the bedroom and she followed the noise, still taking in her walkway turned garden.
"Bloody hell, I said I wanted one sample of each kind, NOT A WHOLE BOUQUET, who in their right mind – oh thank god, Hermione! Whatever, just bill my tab for the cost, thank you for bloody nothing."
"Uh – Ron? Why is my flat giving me allergies?"
"Ugh I'm sorry, I had ordered flowers just to see what would look good for the wedding, but the –
The wedding! How had she forgotten about the wedding? Hermione quickly calculated the timing in her head and realized that it was less than a month away, A MONTH!
"Oh my god, the wedding! We haven't even seen venues yet, let alone figure out the guest list, or the caterer. Oh my, what am I going to wear?"
Ron stood back and watched her with amusement, "There she is, I was worried. We're getting married in Wales, Ginny basically begged us to use their cliff sceneries, I've already called Madame Malkins and she has you down for an appointment tomorrow, I've sent out the invites – we only know like 20 people Hermione, we should go out more – and the caterers are bringing by samples on Friday."
Hermione stood back, gaping at him, "You've – you're…organized? Are you some stranger Polyjuced to look like my fiancé? Quick, what is my Patronus?"
Ron chuckled and walked over to her, giving her a quick peck on the forehead, "For our wedding Hermione? I've been thinking about this for ages," he walked out of the room and yelled back, "And your Patronus is a grindylow, DUH!"
She grinned and went back to analyze the flowers until she realized that she did not even have a minuscule amount of care at which flowers would be at the wedding. "RON," she called across the flat, "YOU PICK THE FLOWERS."
She could hear him laughing in the other room when he answered, "ALREADY DONE."
"Miss, that is gorgeous, but perhaps one that is less conservative? You are young enough to pull it off."
Hermione stared at her reflection in the massive mirror at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, she had been trying on dresses for the past hour, willing something to speak to her but they all looked the same, white, long, hideous.
The intern helping her, Mia, bless her for being so kind, didn't have a talent for picking out pieces and Hermione, having no morsel of fashion sense, made their duo quite impractical.
This particular dress had long sleeves, a waist synching barely under her breasts and a poof at the bottom that reminded her much of a tutu. It was absolutely dreadful, but they all were, in some way or another. She just needed to not hate one, just one, she prayed.
"Granger, you didn't tell me you're auditioning for the ugly duckling." A voice snarked from behind her.
The witch in the dress turned and saw the arrogant Slytherin approaching.
"Well, the ugly duckling became a swan, so I believe that was a compliment, thank you Malfoy."
He rolled his eyes and plopped himself in the couch behind her, "What's next?"
She eyed him, "No one invited you."
"I'm doing the wizarding world a favour from having to see you in a dreadful gown, who knows, maybe you'd wear that monstrosity."
She huffed, "You really are a git."
"Never denied it."
Mia was watching the interaction with wide eyes and finally started, "Shall I change you out of this one Miss? The next one is already in the dressing room."
"Yes –
"Mia, right?" Draco spoke.
Mia turned to him and whimpered a little at being spoke to so directly before answering in a little mousy tone, "Yes, sir."
"Show me where the dresses are, let's put her in something not horrendous."
"Hey," Hermione said, finger raised, "I don't know who you think you are but if you think –
"Granger, chill, I'm just doing Mia a favour so she doesn't have to stare at you all day."
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms and watched as Draco became amused at her reaction, she did want to leave early, who knows how long she'd be here with Mia.
"Fine. If you put me in a single, non-descent looking one, I will transfigure your eyebrows into caterpillars." She said, finishing with, "Mia, you're in charge here."
Mia nervously nodded and lead Malfoy to the dresses while Hermione headed to the change room to get herself out of the eyesore.
Hermione had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes, about to just grab her things and leave when she heard footsteps approaching but these were light, and single paired.
"Miss, I'm coming in."
"Wait, tell Malfoy to wait outside."
"Miss, he left."
"Left? Back to the seats?"
"Uhm, no, he said he had to go after picking out the dress and left the store ma'am."
Hermione felt a microscopic spark of disappointment she couldn't place before opening her door to allow the intern to enter. She was holding a pale cream dress with embroidered roses, but Hermione couldn't make out the rest in her arms. She lifted her arms up and Mia gently dressed her, charming it to fit snug around her bodice.
The witch followed Mia out to the main mirror and got on the platform. Her first glance took her breath away. The dress was marvelous. It had an off the shoulder lace sleave that blended in seamlessly with the top, the sweetheart neckline made her breasts look phenomenal and it hugged her curves in ways that she didn't even know was possible. The lace top travelled down the A-line, tapering out along the cream, netted bottom.
Hermione heard sniffles behind her and saw the intern whipping away a tear.
"What do you think Miss?" Mia squeaked.
"It's…fine, but how much is it?"
"2489 Galleons, Miss." Hermione's eyes almost popped out of her head, of course he would pick the most ridiculously expensive dress.
"That's a little out of my budget Mia."
"Oh no, the gentleman already paid."
"He WHAT." Hermione whipped around and Mia startled so hard she dropped the dress cover she was holding.
"Ye-yes, he gave me this to give you if you reacted badly." Mia handed her a small cardstock with neat cursive on it.
Stop throwing a fit, consider it charity.
Don't trip down the aisle.
DM
Hermione fumed at the note, how dare he…how DARE he – showing off his stupid trust fund and how she couldn't afford – well she'd show him one day. The witch crumpled the note into her hand.
"I'll send it straight to your house." Mia squeaked, she could hear the underlying plea for Hermione to just leave the store and Hermione nodded, not wanting to make Mia's life any more stressful that she already had. The witch vowed that she would pay the git back, with interest, soon enough.
She was exhausted by the time Hermione left the store and allowed herself a 20-minute refresher at Flourish and Blotts to unclog her dampened brain. She was browsing the new editions of Hogwarts textbooks, just for a look at what the kids were learning these days, when she turned and almost ran into a loopy eyed, blonde witch.
"Luna!" She gasped.
"Oh my, Hermione! I'm so sorry, I was trying to find the Wrackspurt, it zoomed right up my nose!"
Hermione giggled and launched herself around the beautifully crazy witch, "I missed you."
"We hang out in my dreams loads so I can't say it's been a while, but I have missed you too."
Hermione leaned back to look at her, Luna's blonde hair was done up in two buns on the crown of her head with beans attaching both sides. She wore multiple colorful necklaces that were making Hermione's eyes ache and had bursts of freckles along her nose.
"How are you?"
"Oh, fabulous Hermione, I was bit by a gnome just on my way here, can you believe it? Daddy always said it brings good luck…What about you Hermione? Why are you sad?"
"Sad? I'm not sad."
"Sure," was all Luna said, getting cross-eyed looking back at her nose.
"No really, I'm getting married in a few weeks and I couldn't be happier," Hermione waited for Luna to say something, but the witch was now craning her neck, trying to get a better view of her…nostrils it seemed like? "Luna, you are coming right? To the wedding?"
"I don't need to; I'll be at the actual one."
"Luna, this is the actual one."
"Sure."
Hermione sighed, exasperated, she had forgotten how much energy it took out of her to converse with Luna. "I'll see you later okay, at the wedding."
Luna smiled and waved as Hermione departed the bookstore, having gotten no new books and was even more exhausted than when she walked into the bookstore. Something that could only be made worse by the Slytherin boy eating at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour but for some reason, Hermione felt it extremely necessary to walk over and ask – no demand – under what authority he thought he could pick out a dress, pay for said dress and then just leave.
"Ah, I must have won a lottery to be graced by the Golden Girl twice in one day."
"Yes, the lottery of being an inconsiderate, little –
"Inconsiderate? I recall spending a hefty amount of money –
"That NO ONE asked you to do."
"Are you not aware of how wedding gifts work Granger?"
"Last I checked, you weren't even invited."
"It is saddening that I won't be able to see my investment in action, but I would rather eat flobberworms than see the Weasel –
Hermione didn't even bother correcting him as she spoke with a disgustingly disappointed voice on the first part of his response. "You could've stayed then...to see your investment."
Malfoy gazed at her for a second before answering, "I couldn't."
"Why, you had an Ex-Death Eater meeting?" Their eyes were still locked on each other, both panting from the argument before Malfoy broke contact and abruptly rose from his eat, turning to leave before saying with all the bitterness he had,
"Shut up Granger."
"You can't leave first." Hermione said.
Malfoy paused, halfway turned, "What are you on –
Hermione spun and walked away, the hair on her neck standing.
The witch's days now passed in a whirlwind of wedding planning which was the more dreadful thing she had ever had to experience. Incessant lists she had to check, items that she was sure no one would even notice if they were present, took a little chunk of life out of her.
The witch had just spent a horrific amount of money on a cake – a cake – as she arrived home and ditched all of her belongings for a shower instantly. She needed to get the wedding stress off of her. As always, her breath came easier and her muscles relaxed. She refused to dwell on the big day that was just two weeks away now as Hermione slowly lathered, taking her time in the hot bliss, oh how good the water felt –
"MIONEEEE, I NEED TO PEEEE."
She sighed at her shower head, so much for her moment of peace.
"COME IN." She yelled back.
Hermione willed the water to take her back into the dream state but after she heard the telltale sound of him washing his hands and it wasn't followed by the door but rather her shower curtain pulling back, she was rather…preoccupied.
Hermione gasped as her fiancée wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him, "Hello Mrs. Weasley," he muttered into her ear.
"That's Mrs. Granger to you." She said back, turning around to face him. Ron's clothes had mysteriously disappeared, and she refrained from allowing her eyes to roam too much. Ron never liked the gaze.
She wrapped her hands around his neck, bringing his lips to hers, wet with shower water and soap. Hermione felt his length harden against her stomach as their kiss deepened and his hands travelled up to tease her nipples.
She dropped one hand to stroke his size, tightening slightly at the top, letting her thumb roam the tip. She had borrowed a book on sex techniques from the library and they had been paying off surprisingly well – and who says you can't learn everything from literature, she scoffed.
"What?" Ron groaned against her at her sound.
"Nothing, nothing." She interrupted his curious eyes with a deepened kiss, quickening her pace on his size.
"Fuck." He leaned against the wall, and watched Hermione finish him, the warm release ejecting onto her hand.
"Bloody hell." Ron groaned, panting heavily, "That was…"
She giggled, pecking him quickly and turning back around to start lathering again. It seemed that the previous one had rendered rather futile. She heard the shower curtain open followed by the door and let her brain roam back to the world where it was just her and the water, no cake, no awfully expensive dress, no décor, no wedding.
Why in the world would people choose to do this?
Hermione scooted deeper into the love seat, buried in an Ernest Hemingway, as it let her slip away into the timeless tale of The Old Man and the Sea. Ron had left early, and the blissfully silent day had been just what she needed, drinking tea and catching up on her reading without any disturbance.
Just then, the front door opened, and she heard him enter but didn't bother greeting him, her favourite part was coming up.
Instead, he felt the need to interrupt her anyway.
"Hello, hello future wife."
"She is currently busy."
He chuckled and went over to kiss her on the head, "We have some mail it seems like, right from the ministry."
She groaned, probably just Kendra micromanaging her day tomorrow before it had even begun. "Can you open it for me?"
"Of course, m'lady." The witch finished her page before realizing that Ron hadn't spoken again.
"What is it Ron?" She finally glanced up from her novel and found him still staring at the piece of parchment. "Ron?"
"It says that my fiancée won couple of the year with Draco Malfoy." He looked up at her with a confused look, but she could see the underlying anger and insecurities looming.
"Ron, it was a joke I swear." She dropped the book and approached him cautiously, reminding herself that she was fine, perfectly fine, so why was the pit in her stomach back.
"Ron, please listen to me, Daphne entered us as a joke, it means nothing."
"You said that Daphne doesn't even talk to you, and now you're saying that she entered you in a competition?" His hand was clenched around the parchment and he seemed like he was trembling.
"Yes, both of those things are true. Ron, why would I lie?"
"I just need to – calm – I just –."
Hermione went to place her hand on his arm, to comfort him and remind him that she was here but her touch broke some precarious balance Ron was trying to reach and his magic roared from his body, throwing her back.
Hermione quickly assessed her injuries, nothing severe, nothing she could feel right now, and trudged back to him. She could fix this; they would be fine. Careful not to make physical contact, she began, "Ron I'm fine. The magic was an accident, I know, come back to me. Please come back to me." She could feel the tears dripping down her cheeks and the plea in her voice was indistinguishable.
"An accident?" he roared, "What I'm that bad at magic that I can't even control it?" He was fully shaking now, his face red and clenched into pain, "You think I'm so stupid, you filthy little witch."
"Ron." She croaked, "I don't, I swear."
"STOP LYING. You think I don't notice the pity in your eyes when you play dumb for me. YOU DON'T THINK I NOTICE THAT MY GIRLFRIEND THINKS I'M STUPID?!"
Hermione instinctively reached for him, she had to bring him back, but he shoved her away again, physically this time. Just when she thought it was over, that he had gotten the rest of his anger under control, he whipped around, arm raised.
She saw a fist heading towards her face.
Pain is a funny thing. The injury or root cause of the pain can occur so suddenly that it may be a full couple seconds before the bearer has even felt the aftermath. Specifically, injuries to the head, nose or jaw area can jolt the sinus, altering amounts of oxygen and blood the brain receives, ultimately leading to black out, all before the bearer has even realized that an injury has taken place.
Hermione knew all of this of course, but still, before the pain came or the realization hit, the brightest witch of her age could not comprehend why her world was dissolving into a pool of darkness with her fiancée's shaken face at the center.
~ NOTES ~
Okay okay so I know that cliff hangers are disgusting and I would hate me if I were you but it was necessary okay? Or maybe it wasn't and I'm just evil? *evil laugh*
Thank you for making it this far and let me know what you think! I'm dying to read some reviews. *kisses*