AN: I can't believe the reaction I got after the last chapter, it was unbelievable but in a really good way. I'm so glad you all enjoyed the twist, although you all had varying opinions on whether Ron was wrong to react the way he did, or Hermione was wrong for not telling him about it. I can't give you a quick resolution, because where's the fun in that? But I'm sure you'll enjoy this chapter anyway, it's more self-indulgent Ron stuff, and since this is a Ron-centric story, I'm sure you'll all enjoy it.
Once you've read this, and let me know what you thought (remembering to be kind and constructive), go and check out mpaoshelle on tumblr. She's created a beautiful comic strip of that pivotal moment at the summer fete, and it is PHENOMENAL! ( : / / www . tumblr blog / view / mpaoshelle / 659450332597846016 ) I'm such a lucky writer.
As always, my thanks go to my wonderful betas. I hope you enjoy this chapter! :) xxx
Ron seeks a quiet moment to examine what happened at the fete and work out what he wants next.
A million confusing thoughts rampage through Ron's mind, each one taunting and teasing him, ruining what has been, up until now, a brilliant day. Storming through the remains of the fete and to his car doesn't shut them up, nor does it quell the invading fury that comes with them.
He reaches his car, still parked on the now quiet street, and fumbles to get his keys into the proper position to unlock the door. Due to his distraction, it takes him a moment to coordinate his fingers long enough for them to hold the cold metal the right way, but after a moment, he works it out and unlocks the door with shaking hands.
Ron climbs into the vehicle then slams the door shut behind him, wincing at the loud thunk and the grinding that indicates another chunk of rust has detached itself from the car's body. He knows he needs to buy a replacement; like everything else in his life, this is a pile of shit too. He hasn't had the money or the time to go and find a new one.
The mounting tension becomes too much, and he lets out a frustrated cry, pounding clenched fists against the steering wheel. Short beeps accentuate his tantrum. If he were to lift his head, he'd probably see a crowd of nosey spectators watching a grown man throw a fit, but at this moment, he doesn't even care who can see him. He needs to let all his anger out before he decides what to do next.
The explosion continues until Ron runs out of energy, and he slumps against the steering wheel, exhausted. Hot tears spill from his eyes, and he wipes them away with a sniff. Realising that he's acting the same way as Hugo does when the kid doesn't get his way, Ron lifts his head, letting it sink back against the seat instead.
How the hell did Hermione keep a massive secret like this from him? When Ron spends time with her, he finds himself unable to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. She has a magic way that makes him spill every minute detail of his life. During their marathon text message sessions, he even started to talk about his hopes for the future, although he was careful not to mention her, at least by name. He didn't want to scare her off.
But given that she couldn't even bring herself to share with him that she had a child, it's clear that Hermione had no dreams of being with Ron in the long term.
And that's the most painful part of it all. All he's dreamed about over the past week is getting back with her. But now that's all down the pan, and once again, he is alone.
With an exasperated sigh, Ron turns the key in the ignition and pulls off the street. He drives on auto-pilot, allowing his continual self-pity to consume his attention as he takes lefts and rights at random. It's a miracle that he doesn't crash, as he pays no heed to the traffic around him.
After twenty minutes of driving, Ron finds himself at the seaside. Rows of Victorian hotels painted in bright pinks, blues and yellows, sit between gift shops adorned with inflatable pool toys, buckets and spades. Deciding that fresh air will do him good, he finds a parking spot along the promenade, pays for the ticket, then locks up, forgetting about inspecting the damage he did to the chassis earlier.
Taking a deep breath, he lets the salty sea air fill his lungs. He lets it out in one hard cathartic puff, which helps him feel a little better. Due to the late hour of the afternoon, most of the tourists have already gone home, and the shops are shutting up, leaving him with the whole of the seafront to himself. He shoves his hands into his pockets and ambles down to the pebble beach.
Sidmouth is one of Ron's favourite places. It bills itself as the 'entrance to the Jurassic Coast', and it deserves that title, too. Tall red cliffs flank either side of the beach, looking foreboding as they tower over the seashore. When they were younger, his mum and dad would drive them here to let off steam, and Ron and his siblings would pretend that dinosaurs might appear from the calm sea or peep over the ridges of the high rock faces. It's here where his dad taught him how to catch crabs, and they'd spent hours scurrying over the rockpools, finding a wealth of strange little creatures. The Weasleys also whiled away the hours skimming stones into the sea and having competitions on who could get the most skips before losing the pebbles to the English Channel.
It's only a tiny beach, and there are no large waves for surfing, and it mainly attracts pensioners and locals. This means there is plenty of space for kids to run riot.
He needs to start bringing Hugo here more.
The tide is high, leaving a thin strip of pebbles for Ron to wander. He stoops low and collects a handful of stones that clatter and clack together as he rights himself. Walking closer to the shore, Ron seeks out the smoothest and flattest of the pebbles, letting his thumb trail over the cool stone. Finding the perfect fit, he shifts it to his other arm and pulls his hand back. With a grunt, he skims the pebble over the sea. It skips once, twice, three times before sinking into the sea with a loud plop. Ron repeats this action until his hands are empty.
Unsure of what to do next, Ron retreats to the top of the beach and plonks himself down, resting his head back against the sea wall. He's been gone a while, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check in on whatever chaos he left back in Ottery. There are twenty-four missed calls on his screen—two from George, one from Harry and the rest from Hermione. Seeing her name sends another round of fury shooting through his veins, although it's not as strong as it was when he first heard her shocking news.
Now, it also comes with an overwhelming sense of sadness.
Ron had pinned so much on today going well and rehearsed what he would say to win Hermione back most of the week. He'd never spent this much time and dedication dating or wooing women, which is evident given his neverending single status. Maybe if he'd put this much effort into his relationship with his ex, she would have hung around a little longer? Always oblivious to when girls might be interested in him, she had made the first move, grabbing him and kissing him in the corridor one day between classes. He hadn't even known she'd fancied him up until that point and might have remained oblivious forever if she hadn't taken action.
Ron's lack of confidence and low self-esteem acted as a barrier to letting people in, but with Hermione, it was different. He wanted to take it slow with her, take her out on romantic dates and get to know her. There's a strong urge for him to show her that he has serious feelings for her. Hell, he'd even risk upsetting his mum by choosing to ignore her advice and have a relationship with Hermione. But of course, he'd already fucked that up.
Fiddling with his phone, Ron contemplates what he should do next. He yearns to stay here until the sky goes dark as they used to when they were kids. Mum and Dad would buy them all fish & chips as the shop was closing so that they'd be cheaper, and they'd sit and watch the sun set into the sea as they ate.
If he didn't have responsibilities, Ron would stay out here for the rest weekend, sulking over the shit hand life has dealt him. But he should go and pick Hugo up at some point because it's not fair to abandon him with George forever. Ron's nephew hasn't done a thing to deserve that kind of treatment. He's a good kid and the one person who will probably cheer him up.
Apart from Hermione.
Given how sympathetic his brother was when he left, Ron hopes to pop by and grab Hugo without needing to debate war and peace with his sibling. He doesn't want to tear apart Hermione's reasons for keeping her secret, bitch about her or partake in any other gossip about the woman who has broken his heart. Of course, there's still Sunday lunch at the Burrow tomorrow, and whilst it's tempting to skip it, Ron knows he'd get a load of shit from Hugo for not getting the chance to play with his cousins, his favourite thing to do.
Ron scrolls through the list of missed calls until he spots his brother's name, then presses the green dial button, his stomach lurching with nerves. Ron is afraid that the whole family will judge him for the public argument with Hermione. He doesn't believe his actions were out of hand, but who knows what everyone else thinks? Ron would put money on the news already reaching his mum, and he's sure he'll get a bollocking from her too for such an open outburst of anger.
It takes George four rings until he picks up.
"Heya Ronnie, how's it going?"
The knot in Ron's stomach releases at George's friendly tone. For all the moaning and complaining he does about his siblings, they can be all right most of the time.
"Not too bad, all things considered," Ron replies. "Is Hugo okay?"
"He was a bit upset when he found out that you'd left without him, but I told him you had an emergency and had to save the world like a superhero, and he came around. Now he's running feral with the rest of them. Wait one second."
There's a noise in the background, and George fumbles with the phone.
"Freddie, no! I told you to stay away from the pie until after dinner," George shouts. "I don't care if Hugo wants it. He can wait like the rest of us."
The chaos in the house tugs Ron's lips into a small smile.
George comes back to the call. "Sorry about that. You know what they're like."
"That's okay." Ron laughs, and he's surprised at how genuine the sound is. "Did it take you long to finish the pack up?"
"Nah, we were almost done anyway. Hermione and that girl she was with helped us finish off. Hugo, too."
"That's Hermione's daughter, Rose." Ron hates even the sound of the girl's name, even though he knows he's being irrational. The poor kid hasn't done anything wrong, after all. "And I know you were listening to our argument, George. You don't have to skirt around it."
"Well, I can't believe she didn't tell you," George blurts out. Even though Ron complains about his mother being the biggest gossip in the village, his brothers and Ginny can be a lot worse. "How the f-fork can you keep a secret like that from the guy you're dating?"
"We weren't datin—"
George interrupts, "I assume you told her all about Hugo and Fred?"
"Katie too. But—"
"Then she should have returned the favour, right? It's such a shame because I liked her up until that point." George sighs down the phone. "What are you going to do?"
Even though he's already made his mind up, Ron still ponders the question for a moment. "I'm going to hear her out. I'm not exactly innocent in all this. I slept with her a couple of weekends ago, then dumped her the day after. I fucking let Mum get into my head, didn't I? It was a dick move, and I'm surprised Hermione is still talking to me. I was planning on asking her back out this afternoon until I learned about Rose. Maybe she never even wanted me back."
"Oh, she wanted you back. She was flirting with you all day. Don't think I didn't see you both dancing together."
Chuckling, Ron pushes his hand through his hair. "Then I need to hear her out, right?"
"You going to see her now?"
"Nah, she's with Rose. That would be unfair; I'll arrange to see her tomorrow instead. I'm going to call her. Then I'll head home to pick up Hugo."
"Give it an hour. We're about to serve up dinner."
Ignoring the fact that George didn't offer him a plate, Ron smiles. "No worries, see you in an hour."
After hanging up, he fires a quick text to Harry.
Heya mate, I'm okay. Catch up tomorrow? I'll bring a few beers.
He doesn't wait to see if his best friend responds. Instead, he stares at the last name on his list: Hermione. Even though he knows he'll have to face her eventually, Ron's not sure if he's ready. Instead of calling her, he shoves his phone back in his pocket and goes for a walk.
⁂
Sidmouth beach isn't long, and it only takes Ron twenty minutes to walk from one end to the other and back again. The pebbles crunch under his feet, though he resists the urge to take another handful to hurl into the sea. None of it helps to clear his mind anyway, and he's running out of time before he has to leave the seaside and pick Hugo up.
Ron's not one to sleep on an argument, not anymore. As a teenager, he could go for days, even longer, with a grudge. Once, he and Harry didn't talk for three months after Harry joined the Scouts without telling Ron. Sure, Ron felt shit about it at the time, but he was too stubborn to speak to Harry and make their friendship right again. He's learnt his lesson since then.
The wind picks up as Ron settles on a bench overlooking the beach, causing him to shiver. He's still in his fluorescent orange t-shirt and shorts, and the early summer nights aren't quite warm enough to be sitting outside without a jumper. Wriggling further into his seat, he takes a huge breath then brings up Hermione's number on his phone with a shaky hand. He counts to three, then closes his eyes and presses the dial button, ignoring the nausea that churns in his stomach as he waits for her to pick up.
It rings and rings, and a moment of relief washes over Ron as he assumes Hermione has given up trying to contact him for the night. But then she answers, and his anxiety comes racing back, forcing his heart to pound in his chest.
"Oh, thank God you called me back," she says, not even bothering with pleasantries. They're well past that point by now anyway. "I was getting worried about you. Where are you? I walked over to the house, but nobody answered."
"I drove to the seaside."
He winces as soon as he says it. Ron had planned not to tell her where he was hiding, not that she could follow him here without a car, but he reckons she's one of those women who can achieve anything if she puts her mind to it. Hermione doesn't deserve to know the secret spots where he retreats during his low moments, but she has this power over him that makes him want to open up and tell her the minute details of his life. He fucking hates it.
"A-Are you okay?"
Ron debates lying to her, but what good would that do? Lies and secrets are what got them into this mess in the first place. For the past few weeks, he has been following his head instead of his heart, and look where that got him. He doesn't want any more of this angst. He wants to return to regular happy-go-lucky Ron again, the guy who is happy with his life the way it is.
"No, I'm not," he admits. "I feel like shit, and it sucks."
Hermione sighs. "Me too. I'm sorry. I woke up this morning full of hope for today. I know you said that we couldn't see each other, but there seemed to be something between us. Maybe I was being ridiculous, but despite being apart, I felt like we've been growing closer together, and I thought." She draws in a shuddering breath then sniffs. "I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway. I've ruined it all, haven't I?"
Tears fill Ron's eyes, not because he can hear that she's crying, but at the words she says. There was hope for them, and he wasn't inventing shit in his head. And all of that is down the pan because Hermione chose to keep secrets from him.
Deciding to ignore her question, he says, "I think it's only fair that I give you a chance to talk to me and tell me the truth, but I don't want to do it over the phone. We need to talk face to face."
"Really?"
"I owe you that, considering how understanding you were with me the other week."
There's a lighter tone to Hermione's voice when she replies, "I can order a taxi straight away. I'll be at yours by the time you get back to Ottery."
"Wait." Ron frowns. "Where did Rose go?"
"Oh…she's still here."
With a sigh, Ron lets his fingers rasp through his beard in thought. Although he's desperate to see Hermione now and get all this shit sorted out, family is important to him, and he can't demand that she gives up precious time with her daughter to spend the evening arguing with him.
"I think you should stay with Rose tonight. It must have been a while since you last saw her?"
"Over a month, although we talk daily. When can I see you then?"
"Hugo's bedtime is eight tomorrow. Is that too late for you to come over? I know it's a school night, and you have a big week ahead of you."
"No, that's fine." Hermione lets out a heavy sigh. "Thank you, Ron, for being kind to me. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I guess."
He hangs up without saying goodbye, then rests back against the bench, closing his eyes for a brief moment. The day has been far too long, and there's an ache in his bones that he's sure isn't all to do with how tired he feels. It would be easy to curl up where he is and forget about his responsibilities, but there's no way he could do that to Hugo. With a loud groan, he hauls himself to his feet, shakes off the melancholy and wanders back to the car, ready to face the next hurdle.
At least the drive back to Ottery and George's house will give him a small amount of time to prepare for Hugo's onslaught. The kid is bound to have a million questions, none of which Ron is prepared to answer.
⁂
By the time Ron picks up Hugo and gets him back to the house, the sun has set behind Stoatshead Hill. Exhausted by the long, exciting day, the kid is quiet, and the interrogation Ron was expecting never comes. Hugo takes his bath without fighting it, a first in the Weasley household. He yawns as he wanders naked through to his bedroom, Ron hot on his heels.
"You're going to have to start wearing clothes around the house, buddy. Or I'll never be able to bring a girlfriend home." Ron smiles, although it masks the pain of loss that tugs at his heart as he prepares to forget the dreams he had of Hermione living here with them. He leans against the doorframe, watching Hugo locate his pyjamas under his duvet. "Do you think you have enough energy to read more of your book?"
"Yeah!" Hugo pulls on his bottoms then abandons the top to dig the book out of his bag, passing it to Ron before returning to his first task.
"Awesome. Why don't we read it in my bed tonight? More space for us to sprawl out. I'm too tall to get in your bed."
Hugo pulls his top over his head, muffling his words as he replies with, "Sure!" Grabbing his teddy bear, he wanders towards Ron. "You know, if you bought me a big boy bed, then you might be able to fit in."
"I'll think about it." Ron chuckles. "But I need a new car first."
He leads the way back across the hallway and into his bedroom.
"Why do we need a new car?" Hugo asks. "I like the one we've got."
"It's a rustbucket, mate. If we ever want to go on holiday, it'll never last a long journey. It'll break down before we even get on the M5, and we'll be stuck, which will suck."
"Ohhhhh, I see. I don't want to get stuck on the M5. There's a lot of cars there."
Ron piles two pillows up against the headboard then climbs onto the bed, making himself comfortable. Hugo copies his uncle's movements but burrows under the duvet without being invited.
"Why don't you make yourself at home?"
Ron rolls his eyes, even though he's pleased that Hugo is still talking to him and is even being affectionate towards him after Ron's public argument earlier. He waits for Hugo to open the book to the right page.
"As Stanley entered the Wreck Room, he could hear X-Ray's voice from all the way across the room," Hugo reads, "'See what I'm saying,' X-Ray said. 'Am I right, or am I right?'"
He tilts his head in Ron's direction, grinning as his uncle gives him a nod of approval.
"You're doing well, mate. Carry on."
Ron closes his eyes as he listens to Hugo read. The kid doesn't need any help, he's already reading above his level, but he still takes his time, speaking in a slow, methodical way, deliberating over each word to ensure he's pronouncing them right. It's another trait that he must have inherited from his mother's side of the family, as none of the other Weasleys are that meticulous, apart from Percy.
Maybe the kid was born to the wrong sibling after all?
He fights to keep his eyes open as Hugo works through the whole chapter then closes the book. The kid lets out a loud yawn, nestling further down in Ron's bed, making his uncle smile.
"Are you staying in here tonight then?"
Hugo blinks up at him with sleepy eyes. "I'm tired, Uncle Ron. So tired, I don't think I can move."
Ron chuckles. "Alright, but just this once. This is my bed, and I don't want you stealing it from me. I know how keen you are to get a bigger bed."
Sliding off the bed, he tucks Hugo in with a kiss. Ron visits the bathroom then changes into his pyjamas. Although Hermione still flits in and out of Ron's brain, he feels calmer than before, and that's due to the kid's presence. He knows it's selfish of him, but Ron needs Hugo to help him sleep better tonight.
Even though it's still early, Ron climbs under the duvet. Hugo cuddles up to him straight away.
It will all be okay," Hugo mutters in a half-asleep dreamlike voice, his still fingers stroking Ron's arm in a comforting rhythm. "I promise."
Letting a small smile cross his lips, Ron closes his eyes too. He only hopes that the kid is right and that all this shit will work out in the end.