As she walked down the cobblestone street leading to her shop, Hermione Granger had only two thoughts running around her head in dizzying circles. One, It was an especially cold night and her threadbare shawl was doing a very poor job of keeping her warm. Two, she needed to stop overestimating her stamina when it came to trips into muggle London. Her lungs were overworked and she was pretty certain her legs were going to fall off any second.
Humming a bit, mostly to keep her tongue from freezing, she tried slowing down , although she'd been walking at a snail's pace as it was. But the bump on her stomach was no longer a minor distraction. Nope, not at all. It was big, big enough to upset her center of gravity and certainly big enough to drain her of energy twice as quick. Someone brushed close, close enough to lightly bump her side and the boy, a young kid of about sixteen looked positively terrified of what he'd done.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry , Miss!" He squealed in shock, looking like he'd killed her dog. Hermione , who had barely felt the boy's touch tried to assure him that she was alright.
"You better watch where you're going boy." A gruff voice boomed somewhere to their left and she turned, startled. Harry Potter stood leaning against the nearest door, right outside the pub. She relaxed into a smile and the boy gave another squeal, scarpering away at once. She shot Harry a disapproving look but didn't protest when he eased the two huge bag full of groceries out of her hands, falling into step next to her.
"Why exactly are you out in this weather?" He wrinkled his nose in distaste and Hermione grinned.
"I was running on bread and milk the past few days, Thought I'd go stock up on some pickles and pineapple sauce."
Harry raised his eyebrows and she blushed.
"I just... I felt like eating them." She mumbled , shrugging helplessly and he chuckled.
"Is Ron back , yet? From the tour?" He asked casually and she tried not to let the smile slip off her face .
"No, not yet. He told me he'll be back tonight." She shrugged, like she fully believed him. Truth was, she hadn't spoken to her husband in such a long time. Not since a month ago, when he'd called her from somewhere in Spain. She was pretty certain Harry knew when Ron was coming back but her best friend stayed quiet , merely humming in response to what she'd said.
"Are you going to be around for long?" She asked quietly. Harry had a way of disappearing off the face of the earth sometimes. There were rumors, unsavory ones but she refused to believe them. Well,most of them.
"A while. My landlady's working on turning a part of the building into a bakery. I'm gonna help her set it up. She's a nice woman." He said , grinning.
Hermione poked his shoulder playfully.
Harry smiled softly , shifting the bags in his palm . They were almost at Hermione's shop. For a moment she felt a bit sad that they'd reached there so quickly. After all, they hardly met each other otherwise.
"Oh. Well, I hope it works out for her." She smiled genuinely and reached for the bags.
"Not inviting me in?" Harry teased, although they both knew the answer to that. Ron hated it when Hermione met with Harry, especially when he wasn't around. Hermione tried not to think too much about that. Her dorky husband had always been a bit too insecure and she was willing to let that go. Although sometimes, she missed Harry so badly, it was a physical ache.
She wondered if he felt it too.
After she'd opened the door and placed the bags inside, she turned to bid goodbye. He was standing unnaturally close, his lips inches from her forehead and she flushed, hating herself for being so physically aware of someone who considered her a sister. He stepped back at once, fingers briefly touching her swollen belly. He smiled, waved and then was gone.
She stepped in, shaking her head in self reproach. before settling into the couch that she'd put near the door. Convenient. Sitting down into the plush softness after the harrowing walk felt unnaturally good. She hesitated, looking around the store with some worry.
As far as careers went, her's wasn't particularly lucrative. She'd wanted to be an auror but Ron had been adamant about her being in danger. At the time, seventeen and in love, she'd been flattered and charmed by his concern. But now, seven years later she felt so miserable it was scary.
Not that she hated Ron or anything. Far from it.
She was just, exhausted. Relaxing against the cushions, she jumped when she heard the creak of floorboards over head. And then voices.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ron, sounding furious. Blinking she tried to get to her feet, fingers curling on the edge of the armrest.
"Today, tell her today." Shrill and high pitched. Oddly familiar but impossible to place. She manged to get on her feet, her anxiety translating to her tummy , the baby growing restless at once. At five months she couldn't actively feel him yet, but she could feel the restless energy radiating from her womb. Or maybe it was her ?
"I can't tell her now! She'll be back her any moment, Lav. Just leave."
She froze in shock. Lavender Brown?
"What the hell are you waiting for? The baby?! You told me it wasn't even yours!"
Her breath left her body in one long whoosh, shock and betrayal flooding her senses. Ron had told her that-?
"Well, it isn't! Doesn't mean I can just tell her I need a divorce and -"
Stricken, Hermione blocked the rest of the conversation, fingers already moving for the shawl. She'd barely had it wrapped around her shoulders when she heard footsteps. Turning around, she watched Ron get down the stairs and then freeze at the sight of her. Behind him, a glowering Lavender Brown stood fuming, until her eyes caught sight of her, the anger fading to shock.
"Hermione-" Ron looked stupid and witless, mouth open in surprise and she held a hand up.
"Stay the fuck away from me." Why was it so hard to breathe? What was she supposed to do ? What did people do in such situations?
Ron stayed put , biting his lips and she waited for a second.
"Well? Any excuses? Any empty promises?" she taunted. He looked abashed and then glared at her.
"Oh, get off your high horse! You knew this was coming!" He said bitterly. And Hermione could have remorselessly killed him in that instant. Killed him and not felt the least bit sorry for it.
"I'm leaving." She said , feeling oddly relaxed. It was, surreal, almost. The way her mind was fast overcoming the shock and falling back into routine. Found out my husband cheated, left him for good, so whats for dinner?
Taking a deep breath , she stepped behind the counter. The day's money was still in the bronze register and she quickly put it into her purse. Ron said nothing, watching her move like nothing was wrong. When she began moving out, he was by her side.
"Where are you going?" His fingers dug into the fleshy softness of her arm and she yanked it back fiercely.
"Why do you care?" She hissed.
"You're going to him, aren't you? That son of a bitch who-"
She hit him. Hard. It wasn't even a little hard. In fact it knocked him on his ass, nose bleeding profusely. He cursed fluently, glaring balefully at her. She resisted the urge to spit on his unfaithful ass.
"He's ten times the man you'll ever be. "
Harry stepped into his apartment, drenched to his bones. Right after he'd left Hermione, the rain had picked up. He was thankful for that. The last thing the poor girl needed was a cold. It was hard enough taking care of everything by herself, what with Ron being on tour with his Quidditch team most of the time. The last thing she needed was a cold.
Shrugging out of his coat, he dropped it on the floor. There was a time when Ginny would have eaten his head off for being so filthy but right now she was a few hundred miles away and in someone else's arms. So he could damn well drop the coat there if he felt so inclined. Grimacing , he took in the completely filthy livingroom. The apartment wasn't particularly big but it was the most he could afford, at least till he got a job.
Every inch was covered in used beer cans and empty bags of potato crisps. The small kitchenette to the side was overflowing with filthy dishes and the couch was a pile of messy blankets and soup stained pillows. Sighing he fell back into the couch, staring into the plain expanse of his ceiling.
It wasn't that he was wrecked because of his divorce or something. Granted he'd loved her. A lot. But he wasn't really falling into a spiral of despair like everyone thought. He was just...taking it easy.
Yeah, that was it.
He was taking a break from all the stress and all the emotion and all the heartbreak. He deserved it, didn't he? Of course he did.
Ginny had left him a little over a year ago and he had quit his job soon after. Not because he was depressed or some shit. He quit it because it felt like a noose around his neck, pushing him closer and closer to that point of no return . It wasn't that hard, he had plenty of money after all.
But after the first five months , drinking gambling and women, he'd somehow dwindled his fortune to something insubstantial. Only, no one was ready to offer him a job anymore. He'd never wanted to do it but he'd ended up hustling pool, the occasional bit of gambling , just to keep himself together. And then a couple of slightly shady deals that had meant leaving London and laying low for a while.
He'd gotten into trouble on more than one occasion, relying on Draco or Blaise to dig him out of whatever spot he found himself in. They were still aurors and while they let him crash at their place occasionally, he couldn't bring himself to ask them for help. It felt so... weak. And that was one of the things Ginny had accused him of being. Weak .
He'd done some pretty nasty things. Enough to get rid of the once immaculate reputation he'd built. And now, seven years after the war. No one remembered the seventeen year old hero who'd walked to his death with head held high.
They remembered nothing.
Sighing he reached for the nearest can of beer, unopened and probably unhygienic. Shrugging he tipped the contents back into his mouth , enjoying the slight burn.
A knock on the door made him drop the can in shock. He hardly ever had visitors . And even if he did, definitely not the knocking kind. Fingers curling around his wand, he reached the door, hoping he wouldn't have to use it. When the door swung open , he blinked in shock.
Hermione stood at the door, dripping wet and shivering. She held a small bag and an umbrella, her baby bump barely concealed by her thin coat.
"Can I come in, Harry?" She asked plaintively and one look at her face told him what had happened.
He was going to murder Ronald Weasley.