Chapter 4

Hermione walked down from her room to the kitchen at Grimmauld place and stopped in her tracks in the doorway. "Ron," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"You're not returning my messages."

"I've been busy."

"Aha," Ron said, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

Hermione put her briefcase on the kitchen table. She didn't need this today. "I'm working a case-"

"Ah a case, you mean the one you've been obsessed over for three years?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, and I'm not obsess-"

"You can't just ignore me Hermione. It's not going to make anything go away, not to mention it isn't healthy."

Hermione scoffed. "Is that what your shrink says?"

Ron's expression hardened. "It's what our shrink said. You can't just keep running away from your problems, we need to speak about this. Why didn't you answer my messages?"

"I told you, I've been busy."

"Harry has answered my messages and he's busy too, that's not an excuse Hermione."

"I have to go." Hermione picked up her briefcase and turned but Ron grabbed her arm to stop her.

"I can't believe I'm the one being practical here, that was always your thing." His tone was soft and his grip on her slackened. "Please Hermione, just talk to me. I don't bite."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm not comfortable speaking about my emotions, I need time to think and to figure them out on my own before I can voice them properly. Which I've mentioned before." She rubbed at her cheek and turned to look at him. His face was warm and so kind, she was hit with a pang of nostalgia in her stomach. What she wouldn't give to still be in love with this man.

"I don't want you to avoid me though. You matter too much to me to vanish from my life." Ron lightly touched her cheek. Hermione took a small step back.

"Please don't."

Ron let his arm fall down by his side and sighed. "Alright. Can we please talk about this?"

"Okay," Hermione said, resigned. "Tomorrow, I promise. I do actually have to go because of the case." she patted a finger on her briefcase. "I don't have a lot of time with my client."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Your client, right." He shook his head. "How's that going?"

"Not as badly as I expected… but not as well as I hoped either."

"Well," Ron said. "I know how much your work means to you."

Hermione tried to not let it sting too bad. How badly she had disappointed him. How hard they had fallen because of her. How awful it was to watch him try so hard to mend what was irreparably broken.

"Goodbye Ron."

Hermione walked out of Grimmauld place, resigned to apparate and take the visitors entrance instead of the floo to the ministry. She pushed Ron out of her mind, just like she had done the past month and a half. Denial was her best coping mechanism. Ignorance was bliss, and it's amazing how easily the mind can decide what to ignore: feelings, memories, pain. When Hermione had gotten psychological help after the war, there were many things she sought help for. Her PTSD, the grief and insurmountable loss. She was told her biggest problems were not her fears but how she coped with conflict.

"You bottle everything inside, it eats at you, but you ignore it. Ignoring it will not fix it, but help it create a larger hole within you."

"It doesn't feel like that though, it helps me get through the day. Like you said, take one step at a time, live in the now," Hermione said.

"Yes, but that does not mean hide the past in order to survive the present. Face the past, face the present, so that the now and the future can be prosperous and thriving."

Ignorance and denial didn't feel like what Hermione thought it would. She felt content in her everyday life focusing on her job, on the things she needed to do. It didn't feel like she was putting the things aside, hiding them, but simply removing what would cause her pain like depression and anxiety. Those things were bad, so why not push them away to be able to get out of bed in the morning? True, it wasn't healthy. But Hermione didn't know how else to handle it.

The ministry was bustling with people, as per usual. Hermione and Malfoy's scheduled meeting had been moved back to around lunch time, the note hadn't said much else as to why. Hermione tried to smile to the people that passed her, some she recognised as acquaintances who now worked at the ministry. She was so sunk in her work after graduation she hadn't kept close contact with her Hogwarts peers. Perhaps that had been a mistake. She wondered now what they were up to. But back then, she wanted her solitude. Being alone was difficult, but safe. She had Harry and Ron to lean on. Who did they have?

The elevator dinged and she stepped out, listening to the satisfying sound of her heels clicking on the hard concrete floor. There were more guards than usual and when she neared interrogation room number two, the guard stopped her.

"Not here, miss Granger. He's been moved to room nine."

"What? Why?"

The guard shrugged. "Mandatory for violent prisoners."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Violent?" She marched on, her heels click-clacking as she hurried to door number nine. "What happened?" She asked the two guards that now flanked the door to the room.

"Prisoner Eight-Four-Seven attacked a guard and tried to escape." The guard grinned. "A pathetic attempt."

"Truly laughable," the second guard said. "How the mighty have fallen."

Hermione shook her head and pushed past them into the interrogation room, sealing the door with a bang and a charm before turning to Malfoy. His wrists were bound as usual, but the chains were shorter than before and now his ankles were bound to the chair. Malfoy's face was sallow, as before, but now there were dark bruises on his face. Looking closer, his arms were littered in bruises as well. He sat there stock still. She wondered if he were breathing. His gaze was glazed over staring intently at the chair opposite him.

"Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, approaching the table and setting her briefcase down. "What happened? You attacked a guard, why?"

A puff of air escaped him, as if he would huff an emotionless laugh. "Is that what they said?" His voice was worse than before. He raised his head to lock his gaze with hers and she noticed he had a cut lip.

"What happened?"

"I attacked a guard," he said his voice steady but robotic.

"Malfoy." Her stern tone made him look away. She stood, making her way around to where he sat knowing with how bound he was he would be in no position to even try to hurt her. "Why has no one treated you in any way after this?"

He scoffed. "Help a death eater? You're even more deranged than I thought."

"Let me," she said, kneeling down and taking out her wand.

"No." He turned his head away from her, shielding his face with his hair. "Let me rot."

Hermione took a moment to look at him, to see this broken man in front of her and wonder how she could possibly try to help him. How do you help someone who has given up on himself? How can you mend something so irreparably broken?

Cautious, Hermione reached her other hand up to move his hair from his face. Malfoy flinched when she barely grazed his cheek and she made sure not to touch him after that. With her other hand she aimed her wand at his bruises and did the best she could with the few healing spells she knew. Most of them she had learned for the horcrux hunt so many years ago. The bruises wouldn't disappear, the cut didn't mend itself completely, but the swelling went down, the pain would decrease. She was not a skilled healer but she had a feeling this was all the medical attention Malfoy would be getting and tried her best.

"What really happened?" She asked once she stowed her wand away.

Malfoy took a deep, gulping breath, and Hermione could almost see how submerged he had been and close to drowning. She needed to save him. She had to.

"They were moving me from Azkaban, and a guard pushed me out to the hall, where I stumbled and fell on a guard walking down the hall. He toppled over with me. They then pinned me to the ground, punched and kicked me for assaulting a guard."

Hermione took a breath and then moved back and sat down in her chair. "Tell me about it." She took a piece of paper and a quill.

"What, why?"

"We have to write down a report on this, it might help the case."

Malfoy shook his head. "They won't believe me. It's their words against mine. There are at least six witnesses to this, who I'll bet will all say the same thing."

"I'm writing this down Malfoy. Maybe it will help us in the trial, maybe it won't. But I want to be prepared for everything and this is going against the law. Tell me about it."

It was the first time Malfoy spoke for a long period of time and Hermione appreciated how rare that was. She wrote down his account of the events and noted down where he said his injuries were and then she documented the bruises she had fixed and the ones she hadn't known about until he told her. She tried to help with those too, but without dittany or a more experienced healer, there wasn't much she could do about a fractured rib.

Hermione left the interrogation room with renewed purpose. She was going to get Malfoy out of Azkaban, away from the prejudice he faced, away from abusive guards who took matters into their own hands. Nothing more than bullies getting their kicks out of someone in no position to fight back. Hermione had a fire. It left the usual tingling feeling of excitement in her gut. She had a goal and no one would stand in her way.

Hermione wove her way through the ministry lobby and into the lifts. Somehow Ron had managed to persuade her to go to lunch with him. She wasn't thrilled. Actually, she was dreading it and the knot she had in her stomach from last night had only woven itself tighter. It was as if her intestines were trying to strangle themselves. Hermione stepped out of the lift and went to the Auror offices. There was no hustle and bustle, people sat at their desks, some lounging with their legs resting on the tabletop, others milling about the coffee machine. She walked over to Harry's office and knocked twice on the open door frame.

"I see it's very busy," she said, noting how Harry was sitting slumped at his desk. He looked up and she felt such utter sympathy towards him. She sighed and closed the door, stepping in and walking to his desk. "I'm here to meet Ron," she said tentatively. "But you look like you're on death's door."

Harry sighed. "Thanks, always nice to know my suffering is obvious."

"Why don't you quit Harry? You hate it here."

He shook his head. "No. It's just been a rough couple of-"

"Years," Hermione shot in. "This isn't normal. This isn't just a rut Harry." He looked at her and she could see how incredibly weary he was. She stepped around and gave her friend a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around her middle and she moved her hand to the back of his head. "You're not going to be letting anyone down if you're not an Auror."

He sighed deeply against her and tightened his hold. "I feel like such a coward."

Hermione smiled. "Not a coward," she said, moving her hand through his hair. "You put too much pressure on yourself. You don't have to live up to anyone's legacy. You've proven you're a great wizard already, multiple times over. Why can't that be enough?"

He chuckled. "Ever take your own advice?"

Hermione shook her head. "Very rarely."

"Right." He took a deep breath and pulled away from her, she took a step back observing the many strewn about papers on his desk. "What are you meeting Ron for then?"

"We're going out to lunch," she said with a wince. "He wants to talk." She picked up a quill and twisted it in her fingers.

"Will I be able to hang out with both of you together after this talk?"

"I don't know Harry," she said with a sigh. "He'll probably hate me after this lunch…"

"Ron couldn't hate you," he said, snatching the quill from her hand and putting it back. "He's incapable."

"I think you'll find he's quite capable of hating a lot of things."

"Sure, but not you. He might be upset but he'll get over it and come back to us, he did before."

Hermione stared at the floor and nodded numbly. Yes, Ron had come back before. After abandoning them. This definitely wasn't the same, because this time she was abandoning him. He had redeemed himself, mostly, I mean what could you really blame a man for when he's holding a sword wet to the bone pleading for your forgiveness? No? Now he was giving her a chance to come back, to redeem herself. But there wouldn't be any redemption.

There was a knock on his door and then it pushed open.

"Ah, Fitz said he saw you pop in here. You ready to go to lunch?" Ron was looking at her with his warm smile, that little dimple moving the freckles on his cheek.

"Yup," she lied. She turned to Harry and gave him a wave. "Think about it," she whispered to him before heading out the door Ron kept open for her. She tried not to think about the fact that she couldn't squeeze through without grazing his chest. She needed to stay level-headed. Detached.

"I found a place just a block down the street, in muggle London, that I thought you might like. It has these funny still pictures on the walls."

"Okay," she said, trying for a neutral and steady voice. They exited the ministry and walked on the pavement, and she listened to Ron's small talk. The weather was really getting better wasn't it? Blimey, did you see the size of that pigeon?

They reached a quaint little coffee shop that had artsy photographs on the walls, most in black and white. Ron led her to a table and then said he would be right back. When he returned he set a large cup in front of her, smiling as he told her he ordered for her. She would have thought it was sweet except she couldn't imagine stomaching coffee with how knotted her intestines were.

"So I've been working on being more straight forward, you know how I had a hard time expressing myself," Ron said with a small chuckle.

Hermione tried to give him a slight smile and picked up her latte, bringing it to her lips and forcing herself to sip it. The offending liquid made her feel queasy on top of her nerves. She set the cup down and tried to ground herself by spreading her palm on the table. Feeling the grain against her fingertips. Ron's hand suddenly covered hers and she stiffened but stayed still. Her eyes found his and the endearing and loving look in his eyes felt like a punch to the gut.

"Hermione," he said. "I want us to try again. I miss you. I've been working on myself a lot lately and I just feel like I'm not happy without you."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron-"

"I miss your cold feet when we're in bed," he persevered. "The wrinkle between your eyebrows when you're concentrating. The way you read books all the time." He chuckled. "Come back to me Hermione, let's start the life together we always envisioned."

Hermione took a shaky breath and turned her hand around to take his, she gave it a soft squeeze and then moved her hand away. "Ron, as lovely as all of that sounds, and I've missed you too… there's nothing for us to try again."

"What do you mean? We can fight this."

"Fight what Ron?" She said exasperated. "By the end everything we did annoyed the other. We barely spent time together, and we can play the blame game but that won't do anyone any good."

"I still want to try working on it."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't work on anything Ron, I…" She rubbed over her face, trying to get some life into herself, get courage, hell just feel something other than dread and nausea. "I don't love you anymore."

That seemed to catch him off guard, he fell back against the back of his chair as if she had hit him across the face. She watched his face, couldn't look away from the rapid minute changes to his expression. The hurt in his eyes, the slackness of his jaw slowly turning to tightness.

"I thought," he started but stopped himself. "Well obviously I thought wrong." He shook his head, staring down at the table now. Then he slammed his fists down on it, their cups rattled and coffee spilled on the table. Hermione's eyes widened and she looked around at the people who were glancing at them. She swallowed, she did not feel comfortable out in public like this. Oh god, was she having another panic attack? She could feel something bubbling up her throat. "You said we had things to work on, that there were reasons for us breaking up so I worked on them," Ron said, insistent. He leaned forward now, pushing his index finger into the table for emphasis. "I went to a therapist, I fixed my temper, I think things through now and that was all for you!" He hissed at her.

"Ron, those things should have been for yourself, it's great that you're bettering yourself but that shouldn't be for someone else."

"So you just spouted some bullshit at me, is that it?" His tone was so bitter, so hurt, Hermione couldn't stomach it. Was her coffee making its way back up?

"Ron please," she said quietly.

"I did everything… all of it was for you Hermione, because we're meant to be together, everything we've been through-"

"Has fucked us up royally!" Hermione cut in, clearing her throat and lowering her voice. "Ron we're not meant to be together, we're all we know. It's comfortable. That doesn't mean it's right. Please just think about it, you don't want to be in a relationship with someone that doesn't love you back. I can't do that to you."

"You loved me before, why… you can love me again Hermione. I can show you how good I am, how well I can treat you." He tried reaching for her hand again and this time she pulled it into her lap away from him.

"It's not about that Ron. It's not about you or anything you did or have done or will do. It's me. This is just how I feel. And I'm so sorry, I wish I could take your hand and we could have our happily ever after but that's not real. We're not living a fairy tale. I'm not yours."

His jaw was completely clenched and he got up, scraping the chair legs against the wooden floor. "No. You're not mine." He turned to leave but then quickly whipped around to face her again. "You're saying there's nothing I can do to be with you when I was the one that did everything in our relationship, I tried so hard to be what you wanted but nothing was ever enough for you. Try being less selfish in the future Hermione." He shook his head then turned and left her sitting alone at the table. She could feel a lot of eyes on her and knew she had to leave quickly before she had a full on panic or vomited on the floor.

Hermione walked briskly out the door of the café, ignoring the stares through the window as she passed it. She half-jogged to the nearest alley she could find. There was no way to hold it in anymore and she bent around a bin and vomited all of her breakfast, the coffee and the anxiety she had rummaging around in her stomach. She watched in disgust as it slowly dripped down the cobbles in the alley. Next moment she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing but it was no good. Not sure if she could apparate in her condition she stayed there, leaning over her own puke feeling dirty and disgusting, which had nothing to do with her being sick. Once she had regained her breathing, relaxed enough she moved further up the alley into the darkness cast by the two buildings, with shaky hands she grabbed her wand, trying for stability and apparated home for a long good bath and soaking her aching sobs into her bones.