Chapter 17
When Hermione apparated away from Harry she didn't know where she intended to go. She stopped by her flat barely long enough to grab a few things, but not long enough to linger. It held such discomfort now, it felt like yet another prison. A prison of her past and her fear. She also recognized that she wasn't ready to visit her parents, or, in all honesty, anyone yet. The wounds were still too fresh. She wanted to forget.
Before she knew it, she had apparated herself to an anonymous hotel in muggle London. Her hotel room was spacious with a jacuzzi bathtub and the largest bed Hermione had ever seen. The downy pillows and shimmering white sheets called to her. It had been so long since she had slept on a bed. Dropping everything to the floor she paced over to the oversized mattress. There was a loud puff as she fell into it, face first. It was feathery and light, like what she imagined sleeping on a cloud would feel like. The sheets smelled of freshly laundered detergent and new morning. Before her emotions could take her away, her need for rest took hold. And for the next sixteen hours she slept.
Hermione spent most of her days ordering room service in bed, while simultaneously watching as many romantic comedies as she could find on the expensive muggle TV. She wasn't ready to think about all that had happened. It felt amazing to forget her life for a while. That her most pressing priority was to figure out which romantic comedy to watch next.
Somehow, the Aurors had discovered where she'd been hiding, because towards the end of the week she received a note from Harry. It was kind and simple, but unleashed another crashing wave of sobbing pain within her. Despite pretending the world outside didn't exist these past few weeks, she knew it was time for her to face what had happened.
As her third week hidden in her hotel room began, she sat at the small desk in her hotel room, biting the end of her pen in contemplation. She went over the events of her past few months in her mind and despite remembering every moment, she couldn't get it to paper. She looked over at her wand. She hadn't used her own wand since she was kidnapped nearly two months ago. Something about using it again made everything so real; all of the pain so visceral. If she just stayed a muggle she could pretend everything that happened wasn't real. She could pretend.
An image of Marcel Savoy and Antonin Dolohov appeared in her mind. That had really happened. Two men's lives had ended. She tried to defend the fact that Savoy was a chauvinistic pig and Dolohov was a murderous Death Eater, but they were people. People that had died as a result of her. Two people she was forever linked with. Taking a shaky breath, she dropped the pen on the desk, got up and then changed out of her pajamas and into a pair of denim capris and oversized cotton sweater. Then she apparated out of her hotel room.
After some covert detective work she arrived at a small cemetery in an anonymous town outside of London. Hermione slowly walked past various sized headstones. Some were overgrown and decrepit, others were well kept with flowers. While it wasn't freshly dug, she could tell Savoy's grave two rows down by the brightness of it's headstone. It had yet to be worn down by the wind and rain. New grass sprouted from the soil. She stopped in front of it, and she didn't move for a long time. While she never cared for him, she did feel a permanent connection between them now, one that would never go away. She spelled some roses in front of the headstone.
"I'm sorry." She whispered.
After another few moments of silence, something in Hermione's mind clicked. Something that spurred her from her desire to go back to her hotel room and hide under the covers for the next week, to something akin to a reawakening.
Getting back to the hotel room, despite the rumble in her stomach, she bee-lined for the desk and began writing out her detailed summary of every event that occurred leading up to and during the kidnapping. It took days, and lots of tissues to get everything to paper, but she had done it. And something on the edges of relief spilled out of her as she wrote. Something that not quite, but almost released her. She managed to find an oversized envelope along with a nearby (and mostly inconspicuous) Owlery and mailed off her stack of pages to Harry.
Despite the slog of the past few weeks, something began to clear in her mind. A fog began to lift. The choice she made, clear in her mind. She wanted to live. She wasn't going to be afraid anymore. She survived Voldemort, torture, kidnappings, abandonment and Azkaban. She was done being afraid. It was time to be seen.
For the past month Ron dove into his work and remained there. He spent every waking hour pouring himself over his latest cases. He took on extra off-site investigations and volunteered for overtime whenever a fellow Auror needed it.
At the end of each day (which was usually late), he apparated either to Grimmauld Place or the Burrow to stay the night. Neither were great options as both came with questions and prodding about how he was doing, but it was better than his own flat. He couldn't even step foot in his flat without memories flooding of him snogging Hermione, and then of him sleeping with Vanya. The betrayal cut so deep, because he truly thought it was her at the time. How could she ever forgive him? How could he ever forgive himself?
Harry had tried to keep him abreast of the situation after Hermione had been released, but Ron couldn't bear the thought of even knowing. He felt so deeply that he didn't deserve to be in her presence that he shunned any opportunity to discuss it with Harry. That didn't stop Harry from trying though. More than a few times Harry would give him a quick update when he wasn't prepared. Letting him know that she was safe in a muggle hotel, that she had just sent in the detailed summary of everything that happened, that she was coming back to work the following Monday. Ron pushed it all away, but he knew deep down in the dark place of self-loathing and shame, that he was desperate to know. Desperate to be close to her.
The last words she spoke to him still rung through his head every so often. I forgive you. And more importantly, you need to forgive yourself.
How could she forgive him for betraying her? She would have died in Azkaban for all Ron knew. The thought always sent an unexpected sharp stab through his heart. Even if she had managed to forgive him, how in the world was he supposed to forgive himself? How could he have ever claimed to love her if he didn't even realize she was gone? If he didn't even recognize that the person he'd been sharing a bed with for a month was not her. Those thoughts tortured him and he spent more time than usual fighting them off in the Auror Gymnasium, though he was careful to switch his hours to evenings the minute he got wind that she was returning to work.
After she was back at the Ministry, she hadn't tried to reach out or stop by, though Harry had mentioned on more than a few occasions that she had asked about him. Ron's immediate reaction was to go red and chew him out about it. He made it clear that he didn't want to see her. That he couldn't. Harry understood and Ron was sure that he had relayed that information to Hermione. Instinctually he knew that Hermione would be hurt by it, but he was sure she would be hurt far worse by being around him. He wasn't strong enough to keep her safe. He didn't deserve her.
Another two weeks had passed and Ron did his best to ensure there would be no opportunity that he and Hermione passed one another. He worked off hours, spending most of his days in the field, and avoided any Fair Being's Council meetings he could. Despite that, he was surprised one night at his desk in the dim light of the office, that as he was reading the Daily Prophet, he found an article about Hermione and her time in Azkaban. He slammed the newspaper shut, his heart pounding. He had avoided any chance of knowing what had happened. He couldn't bear it. And yet, here it was on page three in the Daily Prophet.
After a deep breath, and unable to stop himself, he looked around surreptitiously as if he would be punished for it, and slowly opened the paper and began to read. His heart thundered against his chest with every mention of her name. He read it hungrily, but shamefully, as if what he was doing was wrong.
Hermione must have partnered with the Daily Prophet to write this. The descriptions and phrasing reminded him of her. Even the way the article was written reminded him of her. While most would read it in amazement at her ability to escape Azkaban (though she kept the details very broad and vague), he could tell there were two key messages she wanted to convey in the piece, and they came across loud and clear. The message of the piece focused on the true power of elves and the horrible mistreatment of prisoners in Azkaban. Ron couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Despite doing something only one other person in history had been able to do, she still managed to make it about the rights of the underserved and underappreciated.
His heart panged at the thought. How, despite the torture she experienced, was she able to still focus on those in need. She was truly a hero in his eyes.
He gently closed the paper and took a few deep breaths. No one was in the office with him. The overhead lamps were all out, and shadows played around the room as he sat at his desk rolling his wand in his hands.
He glanced over at the evidence room and then back at his desk hastily. Then he looked over at it again. He hadn't been inside in weeks for fear that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pulling out her file. Even now he felt that he didn't deserve to read her account, but after reading the article in the paper, a new desire to hear more from her bubbled up inside of him.
He fought the urge for another ten minutes, but finally made his way over to the evidence room, opening the door and found the appropriate filing cabinet. Pulling out a drawer, he tenderly ticked his fingers over the different case files, finally landing on hers.
Granger, Hermione - Kidnapping, Azkaban Escape
His breath hitched. Slowly gathering all his courage he pulled the file out from the drawer and walked over to a blank wall between two filing cabinets and slid down until he hit the floor. His bent knees held the file up and he opened it. A small paperclipped note lay atop of the oversized envelope.
Bout time.
Ron immediately recognized Harry's handwriting and ripped it off with an eye roll and tossed it haphazardly. He then opened the oversized envelope and pulled out a thick stack of pages, all with Hermione's perfect handwriting. Ron ran his hand over it feeling the bumps and grooves. Even just touching it gave Ron a warm feeling, like he was closer to her somehow.
With a second deep and courageous breath that night, he began to read.
Page after page, his heart reacted to her every experience. She had written perfectly for Auror use in trial proceedings, but he could read deeper, see the pain and fear behind her words. More than once through the pages did he have to stop to blow his nose.
By the end, Ron's heart and eyes were raw with emotion. He sat with the words rolling around in his head. Despite being very professionally written, he could tell she had called out certain parts just for him. A hidden message to him that she still loved and cared for him. A message to him that all was not lost.
He hadn't expected it, and to his concerted effort otherwise, he felt a lightening of his spirit. While originally believing it would send him careening off of the cliffs of despair, somehow knowing the pain she went through, and hearing the words from her, actually did the opposite.
Maybe one day, if she could forgive him, he could also forgive himself.
More days passed, and he felt better and better. That being said, he still had no courage whatsoever to see or talk with Hermione. His mind landed on her often. He heard whispers of changes happening at the Fair Beings Council, but didn't dare ask Harry or investigate what that meant.
After another week, Ron had been sitting at his desk drafting a report on his latest closed case when the unexpected happened.
It had almost not registered with him as he had glanced to the entrance of the Auror department and then back at his report. It was her. He whipped his head up and his entire body tensed, unsure of whether to run over and wrap his arms around her or dart headfirst under his desk. He just remained motionless, unable to move or breathe.
He wasn't sure how long it had been, but she looked magnificent. Her hair was wild and bushy, but she didn't look overwhelmed or stressed. She almost seemed peaceful. Like nothing phased her. She didn't look around the room, but instead made her way across the bullpen to one particular desk. Jeremy's desk.
Ron knew she wasn't there for him even before she headed in the opposite direction from him, but the fact that she didn't look over tugged at a wound that wasn't quite healed.
His eyes followed her, silently watching as she, in her midnight blue blazer and long fitted tan slacks, said something to Jeremy and pointed to a small office nearby. Ron watched Jeremy's eyes perk up at her as they made their way into the office and closed the door.
Ron tried to pry his eyes away, but failed miserably. He was curious about what they were discussing, but what he also noticed is that the normal prickling jealousy and anger that normally arose when she was with Jeremy no longer took hold of Ron.
It surprised and saddened Ron. It wasn't that he didn't still love Hermione, it's that he now realized that he just wanted her to be happy, even if he was not.
He continued to watch as Hermione talked animatedly to Jeremy. Then without warning, Jeremy's eyes lit up in excitement and he grabbed Hermione and swung her around and gave her a deep hug. Ron's heart clenched.
Then, he watched as Jeremy grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her to Director Spivey's office and closed the door behind him. Ron tried to focus back on his work, but couldn't help but eye Spivey's office every so often.
After thirty minutes or so, Ron heard rumblings as the door opened. They were all offering goodbyes.
"I'll come by later, yeah?" He heard Jeremy call to Hermione as she made her way towards the Auror exit.
"Sounds great." Hermione's voice rang out.
Then, as he watched her walk confidently to the door, she slowly turned her head, almost secretly, in his direction. Their eyes met and his heart stopped. He wasn't exactly sure what his face was doing, but he gave up trying to control it. All he could see was her.
She gave him a sweet, yet shy Hermione smile, coupled with a private wave.
His heart leapt in his chest. His body felt like ice and fire. He felt like he wanted to scream and disappear.
Before he had a chance to recalibrate and look like an actual normal human being, she was gone.
He did not go after her, but something about seeing her again, about her smiling at him in that way sparked a giddiness in him that he had long since forgotten. A feeling that he had been missing for so long.
