Nope, did not give up on this, yet.
I really, really, really, need a beta. I want to review what I have so far and correct it all. Someone, anyone up for a challenge? It is just 105710 words. Maybe, one day? Please? Please?
Until then, thank-you so, so much for putting up with the grammar mistakes and plot-holes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Year 2003, July
The Weasley's Home
The camomile tea wasn't working.
Well, it had stopped working for quite some time now and Hermione was unsure of why she was still drinking it. If its purpose was to calm her down, it wasn't doing a very good job.
Correction: it was doing no job, at all.
If anything, it was only making it worse. The tea was too hot and it burned her tongue. Also, the taste was off. Hermione suspected it had been in the cupboard for too long. It had a cheese kind of scent and palate to it; Mrs. Weasley liked to store the cheese in their cupboards sometimes – said it gave the cheese an extra, dry flavour.
Well, right now, it felt pretty much like Hermione was burning her tongue with hot, moldy cheese as she waited for her husband to come back.
After that clear demonstration of affection – if you could call it that – from Malfoy, Hermione knew she couldn't hide anymore. It would just be… dumb.
Dumb, weird, stupid.
And, more importantly, it would be disrespectful to everyone and, especially, to Ron. As thick as Ron could be at times, he wasn't an idiot. He had seen it. He had seen how Malfoy had grabbed her, how he had soothed her. All Hermione tried to do afterwards was ignore it - there was something bigger going on - but she knew she couldn't ignore it any longer. Ron would want to talk, obviously. It would be the first thing he would want to do when he came back home. And she was nervous,
so nervous.
Hence the moldy, cheesy tea. At first, Hermione had considered some firewhisky. Gin had some stored away in her house and the brown-haired witch considered stealing some. Hermione wasn't a drinker but an occasional glass of alcohol would make her feel better, at least it would make her numb. She had learned that from Malfoy.
She snorted.
Predictable.
But she didn't want to have a glass of firewhisky in her hands when talking to her husband about something this serious.
She took another sip. It burned.
Was it this serious? Was it something even worth discussing thoroughly? It was over. Malfoy and her, it was over. Sure, fine, him coming back had toyed with her emotions a bit. And sure, fine, he seemed to still have feelings for her. Ok, fuck, sure, fine, and her heart still pounded wildly when he was in the same room as her. But that was normal. They had a history, they had shared something deep. It was just as Ginny had said: it was over. It was long gone, lost. Lost almost 6 years, to be exact.
It should be discussed and she would. And she would be honest. And it would be done. Done. Over.
Her fingers gripped her cup as she stared down at the yellowish liquid. It should be done. Right? She… she was done with it… right? It wasn't like everything came rushing back when he had looked her in the eyes for the first time in almost 6 years, of course not! It wasn't like her heart didn't fill up like it used to whenever he talked to her, touched her, made her laugh, read to her, comforted her, protected her and annoyed the hell out of her. It didn't, right?
And the way his voice had said it: Hermione.
She threw the cup onto the living-room rug as hard as she could. It didn't break.
"Fuck me." she sighed, burrowing back onto the cushions of her sofa. How could this be? This was ridiculous! She was a 24-year-old, successful woman, war hero. She was married to the love of her life.
Is he? Malfoy's voice was in her head, again.
"Fuck off, Malfoy!"
And how could she even think about this situation, when there was something bigger going on? Was she this pathetic? Had she learned nothing from the past war? How could she point the finger at Harry and Ron, when she was back here, in her living-room, drinking tea and thinking about her – completely dead, over, gone – feelings for Malfoy?
Get it together, Hermione. Discuss it with Ron and be over with it. Just hold on a little longer. Soon everything will be back to normal. Malfoy will go back to wherever he will go back to and life will continue. And you will be happy, with Ron.
Will you?
She kicked the cup and it rolled off the rug onto the floor, more tea spilling everywhere.
Just then, Ron apparated into the living-room and the cup stopped right by his feet.
"Oh, Ron, sorry. It slipped." Hermione got up from the sofa but Ron was quicker as he picked up the mug from the floor and put it on the coffee table in front of her. He didn't say a word as he took off his robe and went around the sofa into the kitchenette.
Hermione had expected this. He was angry, of course. She called upon all the patience she could muster and followed him. She owed him that much.
"Ron…" she called as she reached the kitchenette. He was pouring himself some of the moldy tea. It probably wouldn't burn so much, but the taste would be the same. "That tea has a weird taste to it."
He didn't reply, taking a sip, one hand on the counter as he looked down at his feet.
"Ron…" Hermione tried again "Will you, please, just talk to me?"
Again, silence.
"Ron, I'm trying here."
He snorted.
Well at least that got a reaction, she thought. "Ron, let's discuss this, ok? Let's just talk and I will explain it."
"You aren't even trying to deny it." His voice was as cold as ice. "I guess I have to thank-you for that, at least."
"What are you on about?" she asked.
"At least you have the decency to be fucking honest now since you haven't been, up until this point."
Hermione took a deep breath. Ok, she deserved this. She knew she did… but did she? Did she? Her involvement with Malfoy was none of anybody's business. It was none of Ron's business. He had gone and left her at Hogwarts. They had gone and left her in that… in that hell. What she did to survive it was on her. It was her choice, nobody else. As it was her choice not to tell anyone.
"What happened back then, it has nothing to do –"
He interrupted "And what happened back then, Hermione? Hmm? You still haven't said it."
Another deep breath.
Right.
Ok.
"I… Well, it was just… I mean –"
He snorted, again "You can't even say it, can you? You won't deny it but you can't even say to my face."
"You keep interrupting me, Ronald." She countered, trying to keep herself as calm as possible. Hermione knew Ron had a temper and she also knew she, herself, had a temper. They didn't need to be fighting over something like this, not right now. They needed to focus on the real problem.
"Just say it, Hermione."
"What is it that you want to hear, Ron? That I have a history with Draco Malfoy? Yes, I do. I had. And that it is done and over and it has been done and over for the past 6 years? Yes, it is done and it will continue done. It is not worth discussing. I understand that it may come as shock but –"
"A shock!?" He asked, disbelief written all over his face "It's not a shock, Hermione. It is a fucking nightmare! You and Malfoy? Are you fucking kidding me? After all he did? After all he's done?"
"What's done is done, Ron! He made mistakes, as we all do. He –"
"Mistakes!?" He was shouting now "He fucking tried to murder Dumbledore, Hermione! He led Death Eaters into the school. He bullied us for 6 years, 6 fucking years! He fucking called you a mudblood! HE IS A FUCKING DEATH EATER!"
Hermione stood silent as she tried to digest her husband's fury. She had expected it, she had been prepared for it. It still hurt, though.
When she didn't reply, he continued "How could you even... I mean, what the hell happened? What did he do? Did he force you? Did he? Have you any idea how much restrain I had, when I had to go along side that motherfucker to Brighton? Have you any idea how much it took not to fucking pummel him into the ground, after I saw the way he fucking touched you? And you let him. You fucking let him touch you! The guy who fucking called you a mudblood. So, tell me, Hermione: did he fucking force you? Because I have no other clue as to why you would get involved with someone like that!"
He sounded so… broken. So hurt. So… betrayed. Hermione had expected it, she had been prepared for it. But no matter how much she had awaited it, it was killing her, to see him like this. To see her husband looking at her with this…
this…
revulsion.
"Ron, I –"
"No! Just answer the question. Just answer my fucking question, Hermione. Tell me why my wife, why the love of my life, why the girl I cherish more than anything in this world, would let Draco Malfoy even come near her. Just tell me, Hermione." He was panting.
One last deep breath.
Ok, right, I can do this.
"He didn't force me to do anything, Ronald. I fell in love with him."
There.
Simple. Direct.
And almost cruel.
She could tell Ron had really been hoping for something else, anything else. She honestly didn't mean to be so blunt about it but she was tired of all this. And it was the truth, the honest truth. She could dance around it all she wanted, she could try to deny it all she wanted, it would still be the truth. And she owed Ron the truth, at least. He was her husband, her best friend. He had asked for the truth and she had given it to him.
I loved him, Ron.
He didn't reply, he didn't need to. The look on his face was enough. The way he was gripping that mug was enough. The way he had slumped against the counter was enough.
Hermione felt the need to give him something, anything to stop his shattering. So, she did.
"And then it ended. He went his way and I went mine. It is done. And now he is back and we will just have to deal with it because this isn't something we have to worry about now. I won't worry about this, I won't discuss it further."
"And today? What about today? What the fuck was that?"
She sighed "Today was just… too much, I guess. Back then, when I was at Hogwarts, I…" She stopped. Could she dare say it? Could she?
When she didn't continue, Ron pressed on "You what, Hermione? Just tell me. No more lies."
"I didn't lie, Ron! What happened with Malfoy has nothing to do with us and it never will!"
"Bollocks! I have to fucking work with him, Hermione! I have to fucking work with him knowing that he, that he –" He pointed at her.
"That he what, Ronald? Just say it!" Hermione knew her patience was quickly evaporating.
"THAT HE FUCKING TOUCHED YOU!"
She fell silent. And Ron kept panting, the mug thrown so hard into the sink it shattered. At her lack of response, he continued:
"He touched you, right? You… you slept with him, didn't you?"
The jealousy in his voice was deafening. And Hermione didn't want to hear any more of it.
"Honestly, Ron, what I did before I started dating you and married you, doesn't concern you, at all. This conversation ends here."
Hermione turned and walked away, not furthering the discussion. It was pointless. She should have kept it together. Merlin, why the fuck did she go and have a meltdown with Malfoy in the room? Why did she have a meltdown in the first place? And why had Malfoy done that?
Fucking ferret.
She wondered if he did that on purpose just to mess with them, especially to mess with her and Ron. He was capable of it, wasn't he?
As she made her way down the hall and into the bedroom, Hermione felt the exhaustion get hold of her. She was drained, fed up with it all. She just wanted to sleep and to be left alone.
"Hermione, wait!"
For fuck's sake.
"Ron, seriously, this conversation is over." She didn't turn back and switched on the lights, before continuing to their bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. Dinner be damned.
"So that's it? You won't even discuss it? You won't even give me that?" He followed her, pausing at the bathroom door.
"We have discussed it!" She popped open the toothpaste "I got involved with Malfoy. We were together for a while, he fought on our side at the battle and then he left. End of story."
"You still haven't told me what happened today."
"Nothing happened today! I had a panic attack." She prepared herself to brush her teeth, but Ron got to her first.
"Stop dismissing me, Hermione!" He took the toothbrush from her and threw into the sink "Since when do you have this? I've never seen you like that!"
"Well, Ron, maybe if you haven't dismissed me in seventh year and left me in that hellhole of a school, you might have seen me like that!" She was being unfair, she knew it, but she couldn't help it.
"What do you mean? Was it because of him? Did he do something?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Ronald! How many times must I say: he didn't do anything! He was actually there when… when –" Merlin, just fucking say it!
"When what!? When what, Hermione!?" Ron was shouting again.
"WHEN I TRIED TO JUMP OF THE ASTRONOMY TOWER!" And she shouted louder.
There.
There.
She had said it.
There.
After all these years, she had said it.
There.
Are you happy now, Ron? Are you? Because you don't look happy. No, on the contrary. You look like you might faint. Or worse, die. I know that look, because I had it on my face too. And I can see it clearly on the mirror beside us, I can see it. Because I saw it on Malfoy's face too. The dread, the disbelief, the hurt, the despair. And do you think I want to see it again or feel it again? No. That is why I have those panic attacks. Because I try so hard not to have it again, not to see it again. And today, when that little girl… when that little girl died… I saw it again. I heard him, again. I heard him, in my head, just as I heard him that night. And that is how I know. That is how I know… he's back. He came back. And we must fight him, again, Ron. We must fight, again. And for that to happen, we can't fight among ourselves. Not me, not you, not Harry, not Malfoy. We can't, Ron. We just can't. Because it will kill us, just as it almost killed us last time. So stop with this fucking nonsense and get it together. I'm sure as hell trying. And what's a fucking panic attack compared to what we have to face? What is Malfoy compared to what we will have to endure? Don't you see it, Ron? Can't you see it?
He's back.
"Hermione…"
"Don't." She couldn't have this conversation. Not now.
"Why…"
"I said, don't, Ron." She grabbed the fallen toothbrush and opened the tap.
"Hermione, please, I didn't know… why, why didn't you tell me? Was it… was it because… was it us? We shouldn't have gone without you. We shouldn't, Hermione. We should have –"
"Ron, I said stop! That had nothing to do with you or Harry! I know that now! I know that you had to go and I know that I had to stay. I know that now! So this conversation is pointless, ok? It happened, Malfoy stopped it and he grabbed me before I could do it, ok? And today was the same thing. I got anxious as I normally would back then and Malfoy tried to calm me down as he normally did back then. There is nothing else to discuss. So please, please, can you just let me brush my teeth so I can go and get some sleep? And if you still want to talk, talk about what you found out today, at Brighton, because I'm not going to discuss anything else. Understand?"
She didn't wait for an answer as she shoved the toothbrush into her mouth. As she brushed her teeth and looked straight at the mirror, she could see him still standing there beside her, that look still on his face. He was trying so hard to understand, to assimilate everything. Hermione didn't blame him. He had just learned his wife had been in love with the person he hated most, next to Voldemort. He had just learned his wife had tried to kill herself and he hadn't been there to stop it. He had just learned that his wife had all these secrets, all these little things he didn't knew about. Hermione didn't blame him for pushing her too hard but she couldn't deal with it anymore, not today, at least.
He took a deep breath and Hermione was prepared to snap at him again, toothpaste in her mouth be damned but all he did say was "She was cursed. Something dark. It opened her insides. The blood on the wall was hers. She was… she was a muggleborn and she had received her Hogwarts letter, but it was torn. We found a piece of it under her bed. Malfoy suggested we let the Ministry investigate and they will probably call us, but we will work on our investigation, without Shacklebolt. Until we know what is going on… we have to be careful."
Hermione finished brushing her teeth, spitting the remains into the sink. "I'll help you. I'll see what I can find out on that curse. It probably has something to do with the curse Malfoy was hit with." She said, as she cleaned her mouth with a towel "And we have to be prepared. Today, I think… I think I heard his voice."
"His voice?" Ron questioned, confused.
"Voldemort's. I think I heard him. Harry's scar? Did it hurt?"
"No, not that I know of. He didn't say anything."
"Never the less, we have to be ready."
She made her way around him, but he caught her arm "Hermione…"
"Ron, what did I tell you? I have nothing more to say."
He looked down, still holding her "I'm… I'm sorry… That you had to go through that. I'm sorry I wasn't there… But I am here, now. I'm here for you, Hermione. I haven't given you any reason not to trust me. So, please, just… trust me. Just… let me help. Let me be your husband."
"You are my husband, Ronald…"
"You know what I mean… let me… be more than him."
If your heart could just shatter, Hermione's would already be smashed on the floor.
Oh, Ron…
She took him in her arms, as he held her. She soothed his red hair as she looked sideways at their reflection. And as she held him, as she caressed the red locks, as she felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, as she smelled a hint of moldy tea on his breath, Hermione tried hard to repress the image and desire that was forming in her head: the image of her, at this same bathroom, in this same position, only hugging a leaner form, stroking blonder hair, hearing another heartbeat and smelling minty breath.
Repress.
Repress.
Ron was her husband.
End of story.
Author's Note:
As I re-read this over and over again I think I can see why some people will think Hermione is kind of being a bitch.
But just hear me out, ok?
I knew, from the start, that coming into this story would be hard for a lot of people that admire Hermione, myself included. She is one of the good ones and maybe seeing her have all these feelings towards another person other than her husband, to see her have some dubious thoughts and attitudes, to see her not sacrifice herself enough, might scare of some people.
I completely understand.
But.
Just remember that nobody is perfect. Nobody is 100% good or 100% evil. Nothing is black or white. There is still grayness, everywhere. And sometimes feelings, thoughts, words, attitudes are hard to control. And you may not even mean or want to have those feelings, to think those thoughts, to say those words or to have those attitudes. You don't do it because you want to hurt someone or because you don't care at all for the world around you. You just do it because, well, you are human and you are not perfect.
So, if you want to keep on reading, just keep in mind that even though Hermione will do bad stuff, even though Hermione will fall and even though Hermione will be nowhere perfect... she is still one of the good ones. And she deserves all the love she can get.
Thank-you.
