Hermione
I woke up with a headache, and rubbed my eyes before opening them fully. It took a moment to remember where I was and to piece together what happened last night. The car went off the road, we walked in the pouring rain to a pub, I drank way too much, and Ron and I had sex.
The last thought made me sit straight up in the bed as I looked around. I was alone. Was I sure that had happened? Where was he, anyway? He wouldn't have just left me stranded here, would he? Maybe, if the sex was that bad. I mean, I guess it could have been, considering how long it'd been since the last time I'd been intimate with anyone.
My mind was instantly brought back to that moment as I begrudgingly got up to put on the rest of my clothes. The way he kissed me was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It felt like an electric current was pulsing through my veins, and I remembered not wanting to break away from his lips long enough to pay my bill or even walk up the stairs and unlock the room. This room.
I sat back down on the bed as my eyes fluttered closed and I could practically feel his hands on me. The sex had been amazing. And he'd cared enough to ask if I was sure I wanted that. Not a lot of men would check, especially given how much we'd both had to drink.
God, it'd been a long time since I'd been with anyone. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. What was crazier was that my body was aching for more. With Ron. Maybe that's why I acted so weird afterward. I'd slept with the cynical wedding column writer, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, my thoughts were for someone other than my boss.
Now the question was whether or not I actually should take a chance on the red head who'd somehow managed to throw my entire world on its head in just three weeks. That was when the door opened, and Ron walked in with two coffees.
A radiating smile crossed his face when he saw that I was awake, and I couldn't help but return it with one of my own. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I felt my heart swell. I decided at that moment that yes, I would take a chance on him.
"You're awake," he said, handing me a cup.
"Yeah. Thanks for this," I said as I took a long sip.
It was hot, but welcome to counteract the hangover I was worried about. He sat down on the chair across from me as I thought about what I wanted to say next. I wanted him to know I wasn't the type of woman to engage in reckless one night stands. That whatever happened between us last night meant more to me than meaningless sex.
I took a deep breath. "Listen, Ron, I—I just wanted you to know that, that last night...well, I never do that. Like, ever," I paused, intending to go on, but he cut me off with a chuckle.
"Oh, I know."
I looked at him with an odd look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Last night. You told me many times already. I never do this, I never do this, I never do this—"
"Okay," I said curtly.
Clearly he'd misinterpreted what I was trying to talk to him about. I figured there'd be a whole car ride to bring it up later at least.
"Do you want to grab a bite? I was just talking to Rosmerta downstairs and the tow driver was getting ready to go get the car."
"Sure. She serves breakfast, too?" I asked curiously.
"Only on Sundays. People were starting to fill in earlier so I ordered two of her specials. I hope that was okay."
"Depends on what you ordered for me," I smirked. He didn't need to know I was pretty much game for any breakfast food. At least not yet.
"Um, eggs, sausages, toast…" he said with a shrug.
I laughed. "That's perfect. Shall we, then?" I asked.
We stood up at the same time and were quite close in proximity due to the size of the room. I felt my breath hitch in my throat and I couldn't help but hope that he'd kiss me again. We both stood there, frozen. I was certain he was about to lean in when I heard his mobile chime in his pocket.
Just like that, the mood was broken. I grabbed my things as he checked his phone and we headed back down to the pub area. We sat down at the bar as Rosmerta was walking over to us with our plates. Not only could the barmaid make an excellent drink, but her breakfast was delicious as well.
I was ravenous, having not eaten anything since the tasting with Harry the day before, so I devoured the food in front of me. Ron gave me a look at one point as I was finishing my last bit of toast. I wasn't sure if he was impressed or disgusted, and I wasn't about to find out.
"Hey!" We both looked up as we heard a voice call over to us. "It's Elton and Kiki!"
I gave the man a look as I was trying to remember, and Ron looked slightly embarrassed.
"Sorry, did I sing last night?" I looked between the man and Ron. Ron nodded as he was laughing silently at the memory.
"Yeah! You don't remember? You guys rock!"
"Dave, leave them alone," someone called from across the room. The man, Dave, I guess, shrugged and waved as he made his way back over to his table.
"I blame you for whatever possessed me to sing Elton John last night," I said through a chuckle.
"You two were quite the entertainment," Rosmerta said as she dropped off our bill. "I suspect the locals will be expecting you back in the weekends to come," she said with a wink in our direction.
I reached into my purse and pulled out cash to cover the bill. Ron had managed to pay for the drinks and room last night, and I needed to cover something.
"You don't have to—" he started to say.
"It's fine. I owe you from last night, anyways."
As I looked up to answer him, I noticed a large, burly man with a thick beard and long, dark hair enter the pub. He was wearing clothes that were similar to a mechanic, and he had a name tag with the name 'Rubeus' on it. I watched him curiously as he looked to Rosmerta, who pointed in our direction.
"Are yeh Ms. Granger?" The man asked.
"I am, yes," I responded.
"Yer car's out front 'n all set." He handed me the bill.
Thankfully, I always had my checkbook on me, and I pulled it out to cover the amount due. After I filled the check out and ripped it out of the book, I handed it to him.
"Thanks," he said. He was about to turn around, but then he paused. "Hey, wait a minute. You look familiar."
"You weren't here last night were you? I guess we put on a bit of a show," I said with a chuckle.
"No, no! Yer the girl from the paper!" he said adamantly.
"What?" I was confused. What paper?
He looked around and noticed someone at the other end of the bar had a copy of The Telegraph. Rubeus grabbed it from them and shoved it at me. "The girl in this article. That's you, innit?"
My heart plummeted into my stomach. On the front page of the style section was a giant picture of me in one of those hideous bridesmaid dresses under the headline 'Bridesmaid for Hire' by Billy Weston.
"No." I said, shoving the paper back on the counter as I grabbed my bag and stood up off the stool as fast as I could.
"Did I say somethin' wrong?" the tow driver asked.
My head was swimming. This could not be happening. How had I been so stupid?
"Hermione, wait!" I heard Ron call after me. I stepped out of the pub and he was right behind me. "Hermione, let me explain, it's not what it—"
SLAP. I let my anger get the best of me as my hand slapped him hard across his face.
"Get away from me," I said seriously.
I didn't care how hurt he looked. I was the one who had been betrayed. The one who'd just been sold out by a journalist who was probably looking for a big break in his career. I turned and left him standing there as I all but ran to my car and drove away.
This is what I got for letting a man I barely knew into my life. He'd lured me in to get what he wanted, and then left me hanging out to dry. And what was worse? I'd actually started to fancy him. I thought maybe there could be something more, and that maybe I could find peace with never getting to explore my feelings for Harry because Ron had come into my life and shown me that I didn't need him.
But now I was left with no one but myself, just as I had been for every year up until this point. Except this time I couldn't just live my own quiet life and hope for my dream man to notice me. I'd been exposed to the public in one of the most read newspapers in London. I hadn't bothered to look at what was written about me, and honestly, I couldn't bear it. Not now, at least.
So I drove away from the pub outside of Brentwood where I thought my life was about to change. I let the tears fall down my face as I thought of the broken promises in the songs we sang last night, willing my heart not to be broken.
Ron
Fuck. There was nothing I could say to her as I watched her get in her car and drive away. I should have seen this coming. No, I had seen this coming. And yet, I'd allowed it to slip my mind after seeing her around Harry and then the accident, and the pub and… I ran a hand through my hair in frustration as I walked inside the restaurant and sat at the bar.
I called Neville and asked him if he could come pick me up. He owed me a 'don't ask, don't tell' favor, and he said he'd be round in a half hour. Tossing my phone on the table, I put my head in my hand and stared blankly ahead.
"Maybe I shouldn' ta said tha'. Sorry," Rubeus said when he saw the look on my face. He was still sitting in the open seat next to where Hermione and I had just eaten our breakfast.
"Oh, honey, she'll come around, I'm sure," Rosmerta tried to reassure me. "The article was really quite lovely!" She filled up a fresh coffee mug for me and told me it was on the house.
I knew they were trying to be helpful, but I shook my head. My phone began buzzing, and I picked it up. Bloody hell, this was just what I needed. I knew if I didn't answer it'd be worse later, so I opened the phone and slowly put it up to my ear.
"Before you start, I know I fucked up."
"You don't say! How could you do this to her? I thought you were better than this!"
"Gin—"
"NO! She is a good person, Ron! She would literally do anything for anyone!"
"Why do you care so much?"
I knew I shouldn't be deflecting this back onto her because this was all my doing, but it was in my nature to be argumentative. That's what Weasleys did. We argued about the barmiest of things, but at the end of the day we still loved each other. I got up from the bar and went back outside to finish the call. If it was going to get ugly, I didn't need people within ear shot to hear it.
"Because she's my friend!"
"A friend that you've been lying to for five bloody years!"
"And I was going to tell her the truth today, but now how can I possibly do that after you've gone and totally fucked with her entire life!"
"I asked my editor to delay the article!"
"Delay? Why not cancel! I thought you two were starting to get on better," Ginny scoffed.
"Yeah, we were…" I admitted.
"Did something happen?" Ginny asked.
When I didn't answer, she filled in the blanks. "Oh, my god you're falling for her! Ron! This is even worse now!"
"No shit."
"You've got to try and explain it to her. Do not let her get away."
"Yeah, I plan on trying to explain things, but somehow I don't think she's going to return my calls, let alone give me a chance by hearing me out. I planned on telling her last night, I really did. Then shit happened, and the tow driver recognized her this morning. I'll never get the look on her face out of my head, Gin."
"Then just give her some space I guess. But I swear, if I lose my maid of honor because you outed her business, I will never forgive you."
She wasn't going to forgive me anyways, once she found out I blew her own cover last night. But that was not a subject I was going to bring up today.
"Listen, will you let me know what she says when you talk to her?"
"Aren't you going to try and speak with her yourself? You shouldn't let this wait."
"I—yeah, but I want to at least get back to the city before I start grovelling."
"Where are you now?"
"Still in Brentwood."
"Does this have anything to do with the tow you mentioned earlier?"
"Yeah. We hydroplaned and went off the road on our way back last night. Found a pub with an attached inn close by and—"
"Tell me you two didn't get drunk and have sex!" Ginny cut me off. When I didn't respond again, she continued. "Ron! That's even worse than it was before!"
"I thought you already said that…"
"Yeah, well.."
"Do you need me to come get you?"
"No. Neville's on his way. Just be there for Hermione. She's going to need someone. And let me know how bad the damage is."
"I really hope you can fix this."
"Me too."
"Oh, shit I've got to go. Harry looks pissed."
"Because of me?"
"Probably. Better be careful, he might try and have a go at your face."
I couldn't help but laugh. "That scrawny git? I'd like to see him try."
"Do not insult my fiancée," she said in a hushed voice. "I'll text you later."
I heard the click as she hung up the phone, and sat on the curb to finish out my wait for Neville. Now that it felt like it was too late, I couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it. I'd risked a chance with someone I could possibly love—really, truly love—for my career.
As I sat there waiting, I decided I wasn't going to give up without a fight. I'd annoyed her to no end to get her to go out with me, so surely I could try just as hard to get her to talk to me, or at least listen. And if that didn't work, there was still Ginny's rehearsal dinner and wedding next weekend.
Hermione
Monday rolled around, and I'd taken the day off work. I made the resolution to be strong, and to not let whatever was in that article get to me, but I couldn't face Harry or Lavender or Luna, or anyone else at work just yet. Life needed to continue on Tuesday because despite Ron's deception, I was still going to be Ginny's maid of honor this weekend, and there were things to be done. Today was my one extra day to sulk and avoid reality.
When I got home yesterday, I decided to clean and do the wash to avoid everything. I was thankful I'd shopped for my groceries earlier in the week so I wouldn't have to display my face in public. The paper that was waiting at my front door was immediately thrown in the trash, and I locked myself away before Ginny saw me.
The whole situation was a bloody mess. All of my anger and hurt was aimed toward Ron, and I didn't have any extra energy to be mad about Ginny lying to me. Of course I was mad, but it was something I'd deal with when it came time to face her. I decided I'd wait for her to tell me and then respond with a simple, "I know," and watch her falter. What was it with those Weasleys and lying to people?
At one point I'd turned my phone off to avoid all calls from everyone. I felt bad because my dad had tried to call me, but I just wasn't ready to talk about it. Ginny had called me five times, and knocked on my door at least twice, but I never answered. I tried to pretend I wasn't home.
Ron called me eight times, once an hour, leaving me three voicemails before he finally gave up. I deleted his messages without listening to them. There was nothing he could say or do to make me feel any differently. Later that night I'd turned on the telly to watch a sappy movie, but it just reminded me of the state of turmoil my own life was in, and how I was sure it wouldn't end up okay like all of those romantic comedies promised they would.
That was when I'd gotten up to get something from the kitchen, and I noticed the doors to my dress closet were partially open. Why was I keeping them? Was I holding on to everyone else's happiness in an attempt to avoid finding my own? Was Ron right?
No matter what was the truth, I couldn't look at them anymore. Not after all the hurt from the memories of me showing them off for Ron had caused. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the box of rubbish bags, and one by one, I took the dresses off the hangers and shoved them into bags. The shoes and accessories went too. Ten bags later, and I had a completely empty closet. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.
Fast forward to now; I was sitting at my desktop, working from home, despite taking the day off. I'd just shut the computer down and turned the kettle on when there was a knock on my door. I froze, not wanting to make a movement in case it was Ginny. Or even worse, Ron.
"Hermione, I know you're in there, so you better open up the damn door for me!" came Lavender's voice on the other side.
I hesitated for a moment, and then decided I could use her company. So, I walked over to the door and opened it to let her in. She strode in and turned to look at me as I leaned against the now closed door.
"Before you say anything, can you just not say anything?" I asked her.
"Me? Sharing my opinion about something? Why would I ever do that?" Lavender responded with a smile.
I let out a sigh of relief as I made my way over to the couch. Lavender followed and sat down next to me.
"So there's an article about you and Wilkins' Weddings in The Telegraph. It's not the end of the world. Oh, wait, I wasn't going to share my opinion. Sorry…" Lavender was certainly not sorry, but her words were a surprising comfort to my ears.
"He took advantage of me, Lav," I said. "He weaved his way into my life, and just when I thought I could trust him, the rug was pulled out from underneath me."
"So he was a jerk! Most men are. Just never call him again, and after Jenny's wedding, you'll never see him again. You'll go your separate ways."
"It's Ginny."
"What?" Lavender looked at me skeptically.
"Her name's Ginny, not Jenny, and Ron's her brother. So, no, it's not that simple."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You just gave me a lot to unpack there. She's been lying to you about who she is?"
"Yeah, but you can't tell anyone," I gave her a stern look.
"Who would I tell?"
"I'm serious, Lav," I insisted.
"Arlight, alright. Now, please explain this to me."
"She's a professional football star in Scotland and doesn't like the fame following her around. Apparently she lives here in the off season, and goes by a different name to throw them off her scent."
"But how does the press not know with that flaming red hair?"
"I don't know. He didn't tell me, and Ginny still doesn't know that I know."
"What about Harry?"
"I don't know if he knows, either. But I will have a conversation with her, and if she doesn't tell him, then I will. You can't marry someone based on a lie that big."
Lavender let out a big breath of air. "This is quite an entanglement of lies you've gotten yourself into," she said.
"No kidding. I still can't believe I trusted him."
"You mean them?"
"That's what I said."
"No, you said 'him.'" Lavender raised her eyebrows at me. "Did something happen this weekend?"
I gave her a weak smile as that was all I could muster.
Her jaw dropped. "You didn't! Do you—?"
"No! I mean, maybe? I thought I was starting to until I saw my picture plastered on the front of the style section.." I was so confused about everything. I didn't know what to think anymore.
"Did you actually read the article?" Lavender asked me.
I shook my head.
"I think you should."
"I already threw it out. I don't want to look at myself in all those horrid dresses."
"That's fair, I guess, but you know I'm going to tell you anyways, so buckle up, buttercup." I opened my mouth to protest but Lavender immediately went on. "It starts out by exposing Wilkins Weddings. Then it goes on to explain how the wedding industry makes brides feel like they need to have a certain number of bridesmaids, which then makes your business a necessity for some people."
The anger was bubbling up inside of me again. He knew I never disclosed that information with people. How could he lay it out there like that! "I told him that in confidence! It's not even a real business! Just word of mouth! I can't even believe him—"
"Hermione, stop. That part isn't so much about you as it is about what the wedding market has become. It's after that that the article transitions to you and how your passion for weddings and helping other people drove you to start Wilkins Weddings. He explained that you're not in it for the profit, but for the sheer simplicity of helping a bride have their perfect day."
I almost couldn't believe what Lavender was saying. I was assuming it was going to be about the obscenity of how many weddings I'd been in, and the ridiculousness of the dresses that the brides made their bridesmaids wear so they could look good. Not that it made up for the fact that he still used my story without permission and shared it with all of the UK.
"He basically ends the article by saying that you give so much for other people and their own happiness, including your boss and best friend, that you're still waiting to find happiness of your own. If anything, it sounds like the wedding column writer has a soft spot for the perpetual bridesmaid."
I could feel my eyes welling up with tears. I needed to keep telling myself that it didn't matter. I didn't care what kind of light he'd written me in. It definitely didn't matter how he felt about me, and it didn't change the fact that he'd deceived me. I shook my head.
"This whole time, he was just trying to get close to me for the article. The flowers, coming here to 'talk' about Ginny and Harry, the registry shopping! All of it was a scam to get ahead in his career."
"Then get him back. Show him you won't go down without a fight," Lavender suggested.
"How?"
"If he's really Ginny's brother, then you could say something to him at the rehearsal dinner and call him out in front of his whole family."
"But that's Harry and Ginny's day, I couldn't possibly—"
"Then do it in private. Pull him aside and let him have it. He doesn't deserve to get away with breaking your heart."
I shot Lavender a look. "I never said anything about him breaking my heart."
"You didn't have to."
