Chapter 13.
Hermione left the apartment, a broad smile on her face at leaving a very naked and satisfied Fleur Delacour in bed. She couldn't believe how her life had gone from an unbearable ball of stress and despair to something so good in such a short amount of time.
Hermione had a spring in her step and barely restrained herself from whistling as she strolled down the street. She walked past a florists and made a mental note to pick up a bouquet for Fleur on her way home.
Turning onto the next street, Hermione felt her stomach clench as she thought about her pending conversation with Ron. She bit her lip as she walked into the dingy pub to meet him.
Ron's hair had thinned further and he looked broader and paler. His beard had grown even longer and he was pulling at it anxiously. He still had the dark marks under his eyes that were now a perpetual feature of his face.
"'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, sitting up to greet her. Hermione hugged him awkwardly and they sat down at the small table. Ron pushed a large glass towards her. A matching one was in front of him.
"I'm good," Hermione said, looking at the grubby looking glass and wrinkling her nose, "What is that anyway?"
"Whole glass of firewhiskey," Ron grinned darkly.
"Charming," Hermione said stiffly. Ron frowned.
"Look, 'Mione, I'm glad you wanted to meet me. I've been wanting to have a serious word to you—" Ron began.
"—About Fleur?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows and looking at Ron. He frowned and nodded.
"I know you live with her… And you've got closer… I'm just worried—"
"—That she's into me?" Hermione said calmly. Ron nodded.
"Good. So you know," Ron grunted, "I've been trying to tell her to knock it off."
"Which you can stop," Hermione said firmly. Ron raised his hands defensively.
"I was just doing it because I have your back, 'Mione," Ron said, "Even after what you did to me."
"Sorry, what I did to you?" Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow.
"Breaking us up," Ron said, crossing his arms. Hermione sighed heavily.
"I'm just going to entirely ignore that argument-bait right there," Hermione said finally, "I came here to tell you that I'm dating Fleur."
"WHAT?!" Ron exploded. Hermione rolled her eyes at his predictability.
"I'm happy, Ron. You should be happy for me," Hermione said, drumming her fingers on the grimy table.
"She's just doing this to hurt Bill," Ron said with furrowed brows. Hermione scoffed.
"Bill is seeing someone new and is supportive of Fleur," Hermione said in disbelief, "She told him about her sexuality and they both agreed on separating. Now can you just be happy for me?"
Ron exhaled heavily and looked down. When he met Hermione's eyes again his expression was dark and pained.
"What makes you think you deserve to be happy? That you, me or Harry deserve to be happy?" Ron said in a dangerously quiet voice. Hermione stopped with her prepared retort.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione said in an equally hushed tone. She couldn't hide the slight tremble in her voice.
"We killed people, 'Mione. We're murderers." Ron said in a low and broken voice.
"It was a war," Hermione countered weakly. Ron laughed humourlessly.
"Is that what your therapist said?" Ron said harshly, "Bet Harry's one said that too. That doesn't bring back the dead."
"They were Death Eaters," Hermione said, her voice lifting an octave higher. Her hand had stopped drumming the table and was trembling now.
"We cut them down like animals," Ron snapped, "What happened to stunning?"
"It was a war, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "We couldn't risk people casting a simple revival spell and being outnumbered again."
"You don't feel guilty though, do you?" Ron challenged, "None of us do."
"They were war criminals," Hermione said. Her voice was shaking noticeably now.
"You even sound like a killer now," Ron said with a grim smile, "Do you think the fact they were war criminals comforts their orphaned children?"
A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek and she looked down.
"We're awful people that did awful things and we never deserve happiness," Ron said acidly.
Hermione picked up her glass of firewhiskey, downing it all in one go. Ron smiled widely.
"There we go," Ron said with a grin.
Harry stretched widely, climbing out of bed and strolling to the kitchen to get a water. Ginny and him had finally made up after the long rough patch they had been managing and had spent the most of the afternoon and the early evening in bed. Harry smirked as he poured himself a water and drank deeply from the glass.
A rapping at the window snapped Harry from his reverie and he saw a small owl waiting patiently outside. He walked over and let it hop in, pulling the parchment from its leg.
"Harry,
Hermione never came back after that lunchtime meeting with Ron today. I'm worried.
Fleur"
Harry re-read the sentence, frowning. He loved Ron, but Ron had always tried hard to get the others to wallow in his post-war depression. Harry suspected Hermione might have borne the brunt of it while she was dating Ron.
"Gin, I'm going out," Harry said absently as he ducked back into the bedroom to pull on some jeans and a shirt.
As soon as he had tied his shoes, he apparated to Ron's favourite pub of late. Predictably, the redhead was hunched over the bar with a pint in his hand.
"Ron," Harry said curtly. Ron grunted and looked up. His eyes were glazed and Harry could tell he was wasted again.
"Hey, Har', how's it going?" Ron slurred, slinging a beefy arm around Harry's neck. Harry wrestled his way out of Ron's grip.
"Did you say something to Hermione?" Harry asked firmly.
"Nothing that isn't true," Ron said unsteadily, "Didya know she's only gone and shacked up wi' Delacour?"
"Yeah, I had heard," Harry said neutrally, sitting down and gesturing for a beer. The bartender brought him one immediately.
"We… We don' deserve to be happy," Ron said, looking deep into his pint. Harry frowned.
"Jesus, Ron, this again?" Harry said, shaking his head, "We all did terrible things in the war, Ron. We can't live in the past and let it drag us down. Why don't you see that therapist I told you about?"
"What like 'Mione did?" Ron scoffed, "She's just as fucked up as I am… An' so are you."
"What did you say to Hermione?" Harry said, narrowing his eyes.
"Nothin' that ain't the truth," Ron said stoutly, "She should be feelin' as bad as I do… Not playin' house with that… that… Delacour…"
"We all feel horrible," Harry said exasperatedly, "Some of us are just trying to work through it in a healthy way!"
"Whatever," Ron mumbled moodily, swigging sloppily at his pint.
"If you've ruined their chance at a good thing," Harry said, annoyed.
"The on-only good thin' abou' those two getting together is how hot they'd look banging," Ron slurred before smiling broadly at Harry, "Hey… think they'd let me watch?"
"Sober up, Ron," Harry said darkly, pushing his untouched beer away and getting up from the barstool.
"Hermione," Fleur exclaimed, standing up as Hermione walked in the door.
"I'm… I'm sorry I'm late," Hermione said quietly, she walked unsteadily towards the table and put her bag down on it shakily.
"What's wrong?" Fleur said, stepping towards her cautiously, "I was worried about you… You left to meet Ron hours ago."
"He… He called me a killer… Brought up the horrible things from the war… I had a big firewhiskey with him," Hermione said slowly, "Then I rang my therapist and asked for an emergency appointment. I just got back now."
"Mon amour," Fleur said sympathetically, pulling Hermione into a hug. As Hermione sank into Fleur's arms she pushed her face into her neck and began to cry, her whole body shuddering with sobs.
"I… I killed people…" Hermione sobbed, her voice muffled in Fleur's neck.
"Hush, lots of people had to during the war," Fleur soothed, rubbing Hermione's back. Hermione continued sobbing. "Hey, now,"
Fleur led Hermione to the bathroom and ran a hot bath. She undressed the still crying Hermione and helped her into the bath. The sobs subsided to silent tears and shaking shoulders. Hermione sat with her knees up and her arms wrapped around her knees.
"See? A hot bath always makes me feel better," Fleur said, kneeling beside the bath and rubbing Hermione's back.
"I… I don't deserve to be happy," Hermione said hoarsely.
"Hermione… You do," Fleur said, beginning to wash Hermione's hair, "I used to think the same way after I came out to my parents."
"Being gay isn't the same as killing people," Hermione said in a defeated voice.
"You saved so many people," Fleur said, rinsing Hermione's hair, "Especially people of mixed-blood status."
Hermione rubbed at her eyes.
"Did I get soap in your eyes?" Fleur asked, concerned.
"No… No, just feeling sorry for myself," Hermione said glumly.
"You already sound better," Fleur said in a sing-song voice, beginning to soap up Hermione's back
"I'm sorry," Hermione said a little later, as she got out of the bath and towelled off.
"For what?" Fleur said, handing her some fresh pyjamas.
"For putting all of this on you," Hermione said, padding into the living room with Fleur. Fleur quickly whipped out her wand and conjured up some warm bowls of soup.
"You never have to apologise for showing your vulnerability in front of me," Fleur said softly.
They ate their dinner in silence and Fleur did the washing up. When she was done she walked over and took Hermione's hand, leading her to her bedroom.
"Fleur…" Hermione said softly. Fleur was unsure if she had seen Hermione this meek since she had arrived in a state after being tortured at Bellatrix's manor.
"Shh… Don't worry about it anymore," Fleur soothed, climbing into bed and pulling Hermione with her, "Just focus on right now."
Fleur positioned herself facing Hermione and drew her into her arms, holding her tightly.
The two of them didn't speak another word. Eventually Hermione fell into a fitful sleep and Fleur held her close.
Fleur woke up feeling fully rested. She supposed it was from going to bed so early with Hermione. Rolling over, she noticed Hermione wasn't in bed. Fuck.
Fleur got up hurriedly and walked out of her bedroom, stopping in her tracks as she saw a fresh vase of flowers on the table and a plate of waffles and berries.
Hermione turned around from the kitchen, where she was pouring orange juice into a carafe. She had a little smear of flour on her cheek and it made Fleur smile.
"Feeling better?" Fleur asked. Hermione smiled warmly.
"Thanks to you," Hermione said with a smile, "You are too good. I wanted to do something nice for you after you helped me last night."
"Mn, you know what would make it nicer mon amour?" Fleur purred, coming to put her hands on Hermione's hips and kissing her.
"Coffee? One step ahead of you, Delacour," Hermione smirked, turning around and retrieving a coffee plunger she had been standing in front of.
"Ah, mon dieu," Fleur exclaimed, taking the plunger and heading to the table.
"I'll try not to read into the fact that you sounded exactly like you do in bed when I showed you that coffee," Hermione joked.
"Last night might have been painful but it also showed how far you've come," Fleur said, pouring two cups of coffee. Hermione came and sat down at the table with the orange juice.
"Yeah, not sure sobbing in a bathtub is a win," Hermione said with a grim smile, doling out waffles and berries.
"Yes, but before when Ron confronted you like that you would have just ended up getting drunk and spiralling with him," Fleur said with an encouraging smile. Hermione sighed and smiled.
"You're right," Hermione said finally, "And its all down to you. I mean, Harry too, but mostly you."
"You don't need to thank me," Fleur said, waving a hand, "The hardest parts of your recovery have been done by yourself."
"I want to help you too," Hermione said. Fleur paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.
"How…?" Fleur asked suspiciously.
"We should meet your parents. Together." Hermione said.