Chapter 2: Clauses

Ron leaned back and frowned at her. "And you need to attend his funeral, why?"

Hermione sighed. "I knew him. I knew his wife. We vacationed together. It would be wrong not to go."

"You vacationed together?" Ron's frown deepened. He couldn't believe she was bringing this up again.

"Yes, many times. When the season was over, or when he had a hiatus, Viktor always wanted to go somewhere warm and relax."

Ron could feel the anger starting to build. "Was it just in warm places that you vacationed or did they join you other places?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and he could tell she wasn't sure where his question was leading. Then her cheeks started to go pink.

"Like Amsterdam?" he pushed.

Her face was a deep red now and her mouth had thinned to a tight line. "What does that have to do with anything?" she hissed. "The man is dead!"

"So he was there?"

Her mouth dropped open. "I cannot believe you're doing this."

Ron leaned forward over the table, keeping his voice low so as not to attract attention in the crowded pub. "I just want to understand why exactly you feel the need to go all the way to Bulgaria for a funeral, but I guess if you fucked the bloke that makes sense."

"I can't talk to you when you're like this, you're just being nasty."

"Well, I guess the truth hurts."

She leaned forward. "You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the face. I'm not going for Todor. He's already dead. I'm going for Pietra, who wasn't in Amsterdam, but I don't suppose you care that we were friends and now she's lost her husband."

Ron shook his head. "If you were such great friends, how come I've never heard of her?"

"You have! You met both of them at the Magenta Comstock exhibit a few years ago."

"Well, I haven't see them since, these great friends of yours."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. "Because just like when we broke up, all our friends took his side." She pushed her chair back from the table and stormed out of the pub.

Ron threw more galleons than were necessary on the table to cover the check and took off after her. He noticed her cloak still in the entranceway as he was walking out and thought to grab it. Snow swirled around him as he stepped outside. He could barely make out the shops across the street. Thinking Hermione might head back to work, Ron started for the Ministry of Magic, trying not to slip on the slushy sidewalk. Shop keepers were coming out of their shops to cast heating charms on the sidewalk, but it just left a patchwork of clear and icy sections. Ron hoped Hermione had enough sense not to Apparate when she was this upset, although knowing her, she might have. Then he caught a glimpse of her. He was expecting to see her hunched over in the cold, but instead, she walked as if she didn't notice the snow. He meant to grab her arm only to stop her, but the sidewalk was slick and she ended up spinning around and crashing into him. He couldn't help noticing she was both warm and dry. Why hadn't he thought to cast a heated umbrella charm?

"Damn it, Ron!" She pushed away from him.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, you forgot your cloak." He tried to settle it over her shoulders, but she backed away from him. "Hermione!"

He could see she'd been crying and she angrily pushed the tears off her cheeks as she glared at him. "What!"

He held the cloak out to her. "I'm sorry."

She pulled on the cloak and lifted the hood, obscuring part of her face. "I don't understand you. I thought we were past this."

"We are. I just don't like the idea of you going to Bulgaria, all right?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not all right. How long were you with Michelle?"

Ron was thrown off guard by the question. "What?"

"Michelle, the girl whose jumper you gave me to wear to the Burrow last Christmas. How long were you with her?"

"I don't know," Ron said awkwardly. "Six or seven months, I guess."

"Did you go out with any of her friends? People you regularly met for drinks or dinner?"

"Some."

"If one of them died, would you go to the funeral?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, maybe, but it would be right here in town."

"What difference does that make?"

"Hermione, Bulgaria is–"

"A few minutes by portkey."

"It's still different," Ron insisted. He was flabbergasted that she didn't see his point.

"How?"

Ron shook his head. "She didn't sleep with any of those people."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "So far as you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that we don't always know what people have done."

"She wouldn't have." Ron stood firm on this.

"Oh, and how do you know?"

"She's not that sort of person."

Hermione flinched as though he'd struck her. "Thanks." She turned and walked away from him.

In two strides he caught up to her. "You're not being fair."

"Seriously?" She turned to face him. "What about Michelle, would you attend her funeral?"

"Well, of course," Ron said. "We were together–"

"Oh, so there's a fucking clause?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way," Ron said.

"Fine. Then this qualifies. I'm going!" She pulled her wand out and Apparated before Ron could get a word out.

Ron cast an umbrella charm and walked slowly back to The Leaky Cauldron. He needed to use their fireplace to get home. Hermione might be able to Apparate in the middle of an argument, but he was pretty sure he'd Splinch himself if he tried that. The snow was falling so hard he changed his mind and decided to go back to the shop and send his employees home. No one was going to be out shopping in a snow storm and he could take the Floo from there.

xxx

When he finally made it back home, he was disappointed to find that Hermione wasn't there.

"Winky?" he called.

A moment later the little elf appeared at his side. "Winky is here, Mr. Weezy."

"I've really put my foot in it, Winky. I need your help."

Winky looked at his shoes. "Winky will help Mr. Weezy."