Of Spilt Milk and Cheerios
Summary: Ron and Hermione Weasley have been married for nearly ten years. But, when the happy couple realizes they are not so happy anymore, how will their family cope with divorce?
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim any rights to, Harry Potter or any associated themes, characters, places, or plots. This is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: For those of you eagerly awaiting updates on my other stories as well, my apologies. My life has been hectic as of late. I was involved in a car accident a couple of weeks back, and although I am all right, it has been an emotional rollercoaster. I was also out of town for a bit, but I am back home now and I diligently working on all stories.
As always, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews.
Chapter Three
Hermione would never admit to anyone that she spent the weekend in a drunken stupor. She had never been much of a drinker, even socially, but after Ron had left on Friday evening, Hermione had opened a bottle of wine her parents had given her over the holidays, and she had not stopped. Drunk and alone, Hermione had spent her time on the couch, watching old movies and reading her favorite books. She was desperately trying to avoid her thoughts, her memories, and most of all her feelings. The more time that passed, the more depressed she became. When thoughts of missing Ron floated around, she pushed them away, refusing to acknowledge them.
Her weekend was something she was not particularly proud of, and by the time Sunday evening came, she had cleaned up all evidence of her weekend and had brewed a strong hangover potion. She had to be ready for her children; she had to be strong for them. And if Ron knew she had been drinking, despite the fact that she was perfectly fine now, he would refuse to leave them. As it was, he was bringing them home three hours late, giving her the excuse of the Weasley family dinner. He had already made excuses for her, and she had agreed that questions would be raised if he insisted the children needed to be returned to Hermione 'on time.'
It was nearly eight-thirty, and well past Rose and Hugo's bedtimes, when Ron finally came through the fireplace. Sobered up, angry, and all thoughts of missing Ron gone, Hermione had spent the last two hours drawing up their divorce papers. Divorce in the muggle world, although a long and complicated process, seemed easy compared to the wizarding world, especially when magical children were involved. Hermione had stood up quickly, ready to lash out at Ron, but Rose and Hugo were both asleep in his arms, allowing him an out. Without words, Hermione took Hugo into her own arms and together, they put their children to bed. Afterwards, they silently walked back into the kitchen, where Hermione shoved the papers into Ron's hands.
"Do you have a lawyer yet?" she asked.
"No," Ron admitted as he skimmed the documents.
"I can give you a few names, if you would like."
"I can find a lawyer on my own, thanks," Ron snapped.
Hermione sighed. "I was only trying to help." She sunk into the chair, physically and emotionally drained. Ron frowned.
"Look, Hermione," he started, putting the papers down in front of her. "I'm sorry."
"I just thought you should have your lawyer look over the terms first, before we actually file. It may make things quicker."
"We may not be in love anymore," Ron said, pulling out a chair, "but I still trust you."
Hermione raised her head, searching his eyes. The sincerity of his words matched his eyes and she nodded. "What happened to us, Ron?" She had not meant for the words to leave her mouth, allowing the thought she had focused on for two days finally escape. Her hand shot over her mouth in shock, wishing she could take her words back. Her eyes were still locked with Ron's, whose eyes flickered between emotions—sadness, confusion, longing.
"Honestly," he said after a moment. "I don't know."
Hermione allowed her hand to fall and daringly pushed further. "Do you think we were ever really in love?"
The anger flashed immediately across his face. "I can't believe you would ask that."
Hermione hung her head. She certainly did not believe it. She had reflected on her life all weekend, and had come to the conclusion that yes, she had been very much in love with Ron, perhaps since she was fifteen years old, if not sooner. But, what she could not figure out was when she stopped loving him. It was not as if she had woken up one morning and said, 'Today is the day I stop loving my husband.' But, here they were, two adults who claimed to no longer care for each other in the intimate way in which a husband and wife should.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, and she was surprised when she felt Ron's hand envelope her own.
"Hermione," he said quietly. "I can't explain what's happened to us. But, there's one thing I do know. I have loved you for years, and even now, I still love you. I just—I just don't know if I am in love with you anymore." He released her hand suddenly and she heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Ron…" she trailed off, but looked at him again. "I really am sorry."
"Me too."
Silence fell over them and Hermione began to play with her hands nervously. If this was a typical Sunday night, they would be curled up on the couch in the sitting room. On their five year anniversary, Hermione's parents had gifted them an old television and DVD player. 'With a new baby in the house,' her father had said, 'it's nice to have an escape.' Hermione knew he had been joking, but it had become a tradition with them since then. Every Sunday night, after putting the children to bed, they would settle in for the evening and watch a movie—usually an action film if it was Ron's choice, or a romantic classic if it was Hermione's. She thought back to the last movie they had watched, nearly two weeks ago—it had been Ron's choice, and naturally, he chose a film Hermione had not wanted to see. Some racing flick with a lot of scantily clad women. Hermione had grinned and bared it—their fighting had been steadily increasing in the past month, and if they could spend a peaceful two hours together, she would have to accept his film. It should have been her turn last, but that Sunday they had fought so badly, she had locked herself in the study, their tradition forgotten.
Ron was the first to break the silence. "You said you had some lawyers' names, yeah?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes, ready to retort, but then thought better of it. What was the point of fighting? "Yeah. I'll write them down for you." She stood, making her way into the kitchen. From the corner drawer, she pulled a scrap piece of parchment and a self-inking quill. "Davis is probably going to be your best bet. He specializes in family law. But, I am not sure if he is accepting new clients at this time. There's Amos too. And Roves." She was busy scribbling every name she could think of and continued rambling on. She only stopped when she felt Ron next to her, placing his hand on the moving quill.
"You really don't have to do this, you know?" She could almost detect his trademark smirk behind the tired lines of his face.
She nodded. "I'm only trying to help."
"What about you? Will you be okay?"
"Honestly, Ron. Have you forgotten I work in the Magical Law office?" She forced a smile, as if to tell him he was insulting her intelligence.
Ron shook his head. "I know that," he breathed. "I mean…" he trailed off and then muttered a 'never mind' as he took the parchment from her. She had known what he was implying the first time, but she did not trust herself to answer. She wanted to tell him yes, she was perfectly fine. She was a strong, independent woman, and she certainly did not need a man. But, that was not the real answer. The truth, however, was not something she had even admitted to herself.
"I'm fine, Ron," she lied firmly, and then changing the subject, "when will you be by again?"
"Well, I know I do not want to go another week before seeing my children. Can we alternate evenings?"
Hermione sighed. "Two evenings and the full weekend?"
"You're home with them all day!" he protested, a slight rise in his voice. Hermione huffed.
"Fine," she hissed. "But only for now. When I go back to work, however—"
He cut her off. "Hopefully by then this whole thing will be settled and we'll let the court decide!"
They were both effectively worked up again, breathing heavily through their noses. Hermione had not realized they were standing face to face, chests puffed out, as if posed for another row. She wanted to tell him the divorces often took months, even years, before they were finalized, even if they could speed up the process with finalizing the forms early. But, Hermione was tired, unable to focus on the argument, and relented first.
"Well, you've got what you need, so I will kindly ask that you leave now," she requested evenly.
Ron shot her a look, but held back his words. He merely nodded and shoving the parchment into his pocket, turned to the fireplace and left once more.
The next few days were spent much as they had been the week before. Hermione continued to shut out her family, choosing instead to focus as much time on her children as possible. Since their disagreement, Ron and Hermione had not spoken again. He had arrived promptly at five thirty on Tuesday and Thursday evenings to take Rose and Hugo to Harry and Ginny's for dinner and brought them back at eight. When he did speak to her, his voice was even, calm, but she knew it was more for their children's benefit than for hers.
They were in the middle of Thursday evening's exchange when Ron attempted to hand her a folded up piece of parchment.
"It's from Ginny," he stated. Hermione was too busy trying to take the sleeping form of Hugo from his father's arm and only stared at the paper. "She only wants to see you. I don't know why you're shutting her and Harry out too."
Hugo stirred slightly from all of the movement and Hermione looked down at her daughter. "Rosie, why don't you go brush your teeth, okay? I'll be there in a minute to help you get into bed." Rose nodded sleepily, and a yawn escaped from her small mouth. She began to slowly walk away, muttering an 'I love you, Daddy' to Ron as she left. "Have you told your parents yet?"
"Have you told yours?" he countered.
Hermione glared at him. "They're on holiday, remember? They won't be back until Sunday."
"Right. And, no, I haven't told anyone except for Harry and Ginny."
"Why not?" The Weasleys were always very close, something that Hermione had always admired, not resented. While she was not necessarily up for the line of questioning, she was sure that Ron would have told at least his mother by now. Hermione knew he could not keep making excuses for her much longer.
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. Haven't really seen the point in it." Hermione clicked her tongue and turned away from him, ready to go put Hugo in his crib. "Something you need to say?" he asked after her.
Hermione ignored him as she left the kitchen, but she could hear his footsteps following behind her. He did not say anything more and passed by Hugo's room on the way to Rose's. She could hear the murmur of their voices as Ron helped Rose finish her bedtime routines. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to focus on the conversation, but gave up as it fell silent.
Hugo stirred slightly as Hermione placed him on the changing table to get him into a fresh nappie. Hermione was thankful he did not cry as he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. She smiled as he blinked several times and then began to blow bubbles. He was so innocent, so unaware of his mother's unhappiness. As she changed him, he babbled and giggled, kicking his feet as Hermione pulled a blue onesie over his legs.
"Ma, ma, ma," he said, a yawn escaping in between his words.
Hermione lifted him close as she carried him to his crib. "Oh, Hugo," she whispered. "It's going to be okay, isn't it?" She lifted him up, snuggling her nose to his. He smiled lazily, as if in response, and his eyelids began to fall again as she slowly bounced him in her arms. He babbled incoherently as she gently laid him down, attempting to keep the small smile on her face.
Hermione jumped slightly as she turned toward the door, where Ron was leaning in the doorway, watching her. It was unnerving, the way his blue eyes focused on her, narrowed, void of emotion. She instantly felt as if she was transported in time, when she was fifteen, and had accompanied Viktor Krum to the Yule Ball. She remembered how hurt she had been by Ron's reaction, and how oblivious he had been to their feelings for each other.
"Is Rose asleep?" she asked, pushing passed him, no longer comfortable under his intense gaze.
"Yeah," he mumbled, pulling Hugo's door shut, following after her into the kitchen.
"Well, then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow evening," Hermione said, flicking her wand at the dishes in the sink.
"You don't have to be short," he chastised.
She was not sure why she was being so harsh with him. Her mood had been sour since she had awoken that morning, for no particular reason at all. Ron was an easy target to take out her emotions on. "And, you, certainly, do not tell me what to do," she snapped. He huffed, and she waited for his retort. They both narrowed their eyes at each other, poised for an argument. After a moment, however, Ron simply let out a frustrated sigh, approached the fireplace, and in mere seconds, left without another word.