Chapter 25
The guilt over giving up his Christmas to work ate away at Ron over the next week. There were times when he wanted to tell Hermione, to say that he made a mistake and would try and fix it and see if he could get back onto the mission he'd originally signed up for. But whenever he considered doing this, Hermione would once again come home late, and his frustration would surge into a mood where he wished to see or speak to no one.
He felt lonely. Having Hermione around had become a staple in his life, so much so, that even going to the Burrow — which he was doing more of with Hermione insisting on never coming home — filled him with a sense of loneliness. Even being surrounded by his many family members and the bright and bubbly baby Victoire, who was just beginning to learn to crawl, wasn't able to cheer him up.
His mother, who had definitely noticed his continued presence at the Burrow over the last week without Hermione, often tried to inquire into what was going on — to which he would always say, "She's working."
He'd managed to keep the bitterness from his voice the first few times, but by the end of the week, and the fifth time his mother had asked in that same evening, he was unable to manage it.
The worst thing was that Hermione didn't seem to get it. She acted as if him asking her to come home for dinner just one night of the week was the same as asking her to drink poison. She brushed off his requests and told him to leave, and when he refused, she snapped at him.
So, Ron had also given up asking her to come home for dinner. What was the point when he knew what her answer was going to be?
The only time he now saw his girlfriend was at night, when she slid into bed beside him, always well past midnight, or on the weekend, when he managed to draw her away from her work for an hour so that they could get some needed things in Diagon Alley. But as soon as they'd return, it would be back to business for her, hunched over her work at the table and ignoring all the food Ron placed in front of her.
He'd had better conversations with Crookshanks and Arwen than he had with her, and that thought solidified his reasoning that this Christmas would be spent apart, whether she realised it or not.
There had been times throughout his life where he had felt angry with her, but nothing felt as depressing as this time did. Back then, they'd been kids, and she'd been his friend. Now, he was filled with anger, frustration, and a growing sense of worthlessness that he'd not felt around her in the eighteen months of their relationship. She'd always, until recently, given him a reason to believe he was more important to her than anything. That their relationship was worth something.
He hated the thoughts that were creeping into his head, because he loved her, and he still wanted to be with her, but he wasn't sure how much more of this he could stand. He'd tried, but it simply didn't seem to be working anymore, and for the first time in his life, he wondered if he and Hermione really were meant to last.
The little happy bubble he'd found himself in with her had burst; while he knew that all couples fought, and that he and Hermione were prone to sniping at each other, this felt different. He actually thought he'd prefer them to get into a massive argument than how things currently were. He had been miserable with Lavender, but he had never felt that way with Hermione.
Until now.
It seemed that when it came to her prioritising what was important in her life, Ron had taken a backseat and been put second against a job that she was extremely passionate about.
He'd seen a snippet of it last Christmas, but after the memorial and learning what she had been working on, he'd convinced himself that she had had a reason. Now… well, now, there was no excuses he could make for her.
He loved her, but the more obsessed she seemed to become with her work, Ron found himself wondering if that was enough. The obsession seemed to go beyond what was normal — even for her. He was sick of spending the evenings either alone or at the Burrow, avoiding questions and pitying looks, like they suspected something more was going on. His mother had even dropped hints that she'd redecorated his old room if he ever wanted to stay.
And on the sixth straight night of eating dinner with his family, he accepted his mother's offer. The idea of returning home to yet another dark and lonely night felt unbearable. At least being here surrounded him with people he loved, and he could laugh and joke with them and find things to distract himself from what was turning into a failed relationship.
It sucked. It really sucked, but that was the only way he could describe it. His relationship with Hermione was failing, and he was over trying to make it work. She had made it clear that she valued her job over him, even if she hadn't said as such, and he wasn't going to try anymore. He was sick of being rejected by her every time he did.
Part of him even wondered if she'd notice he was missing when she got home — whenever that would be. He was dreading the day she'd lose track so badly that she wouldn't come home at all.
It was strange being in his old room. He hadn't slept in his bed for over a year, hadn't even set foot inside it since he left to move into Grimmauld Place with Harry. That felt so long ago now and he'd never once considered that he'd have a need to come back to it. Things with Hermione had been perfect.
As he laid awake, the clock growing ever closer to midnight, his eyes directed at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd made a mistake. Perhaps they really had rushed things, consumed by their grief and years of having feelings for one another, but never acting on them. They really had clung to one another after the war, becoming so dependent on the other for comfort and happiness. He had never thought it to be unhealthy, because it had always felt right. Every moment had been wonderful, incredible, but maybe that feeling was only ever supposed to last a little while. Maybe it was something that was destined to burn out eventually, and he'd been too in love to see it. Perhaps he'd simply hoped, rather than thought, that what they had was something that would be forever.
His feelings for her spoke otherwise — the love, even now, that he felt for her made it difficult for him to believe that it was a fleeting thing in his life — but perhaps for her that was all it was. Perhaps her feelings had changed, and if that was the case, then there was nothing he could do to change that. He'd just have to deal.
He couldn't fall asleep. It was the same here as it was in his own bed. He'd lay awake, thinking over and over about what he should do. He'd let it go on because he couldn't bring himself to start a conversation about it, too afraid of where it might lead. He just loved her so much still, and even as he suffered, when he put the idea of things going wrong into his head, he just couldn't take that next step out of fear of what she might say or what she might do.
He didn't actually want to hear this isn't working anymore out loud — from him or her.
In truth, all he wanted from her was some kind of acknowledgement, and maybe a promise that she'd try to put him first, even if it was once a week. All he wanted was to know that he still mattered to her — perhaps it was a selfish request, but it was what he needed.
The clock struck one, and still, he couldn't sleep. He wondered if Hermione had come home yet and discovered their bed empty. He wondered if it bothered her, or if she'd been too caught up in planning her next day to even notice. She was so sleep deprived lately that it wouldn't have surprised him if she'd simply collapsed into bed and fallen asleep without noticing her surroundings. Perhaps it wouldn't be until morning when she woke up and learnt of his absence.
Maybe then she'd understand.
Two o'clock came, and his eyes felt heavy. He tossed and turned and fretted. At one point he even considered getting up and going home, because he was worried that she'd fret over him not being there. But he fought against it, reminding himself that he had tried. It was her choice now.
Three o'clock and finally, he drifted off into a light sleep. He couldn't have been asleep for more than half an hour when the bedroom door opened and a blinding light burned through his eyelids.
"What the —"
"There you are! God, Ron, I was so worried about you. I was awake all night searching for you, thinking the worst…"
Ron blinked. It wasn't Hermione's wand light, but the light of day shining through the window. She'd brushed the curtains aside, maybe in an attempt to wake him, as if her accusing voice hadn't been enough.
He opened his eyes, squinting at Hermione's head hovering above him. She looked worse for wear — more exhausted than she had all week — and extremely worried. When she saw his eyes open, she sat on the end of his bed.
"I got home, and you weren't there, and so I went looking for you, thinking you'd been hurt, or…"
"How could I get hurt between the Ministry and our flat?" Ron asked, and he heard the lack of emotion in his voice.
"I-I don't know," Hermione said, and she sounded concerned. "I was just so worried. And in the morning, I ended up at Grimmauld Place, thinking you were there for some reason, and Ginny said you were here… Ron… why didn't you come home?"
Ron said nothing. He was still recovering from being startled awake, not quite sure how he'd managed to sleep for at least four hours when it had only felt like one.
Hermioned seemed to take his silence to mean something more, for she said, "Have… have I upset you?" It sounded as if she was holding back tears.
Still trying to wake up properly, Ron sat up in the bed. He rubbed his eyes, bringing her into focus. "Upset me?"
She nodded, and he now saw that she really did look upset. He had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her, which had always been his natural instinct when it came to her.
"Hermione, of course you've upset me." He couldn't quite believe that she was asking him that — as if nothing that had happened over the past week had even registered in her brilliant mind.
Hermione paled. She seemed confused. "May… may I ask why?"
For a moment, Ron could do nothing but stare at her. He could tell she was being serious, that she really didn't have any idea why he felt so angry and defeated. And then he felt his anger bubble. "You're kidding, right?"
"Ron —"
And now everything he'd held back, all of his frustrations, came tumbling out. "We literally haven't had a proper conversation in weeks!" he nearly shouted. "We haven't seen each other for just as long, and every time I even so much as suggest you come home in time for dinner, you act as if I've asked you to commit murder."
Hermione stiffened. Her back straightened, and her expression hardened slightly. He could almost hear her mind saying, not this again. "Ron, it's not like I want to stay as late as I am —"
"Really?" Ron asked unkindly. "Because I don't recall you ever telling me anyone is forcing you to stay back seven hours after your day finishes."
Hermione didn't say anything. She merely stared at Ron.
"I thought I might have been okay with it," Ron continued. "You know, you've always been like this. I knew that and your dedication… your brilliance… it's something that I absolutely love about you. I admire it, envy it… I'm okay with you doing all the amazing things that you'll do there."
Now she looked very confused. He knew she wanted to ask him what the issue was then, but he didn't give her the chance.
"But, I'm not okay with being ignored, and that's what it feels like. I'm not okay with you coming home every single night past midnight, then getting up at five o'clock to arrive three hours before you're due to start. I'm not okay with being second best to your job."
"Ron, you're not second best." She sounded annoyed again. As if he wasn't the one understanding her. "It's just, sometimes I've got so much to do that I need to stay back."
"But it's not sometimes, is it?" Ron said, feeling his hope that she'd see sense fading with every word. "It's always and that's the issue. It's why I'm upset. Even on weekends, I can barely get you to look at me. Once, you liked it when I kissed you, hugged you, but now, it's just like I'm a nuisance instead. I'm the annoying person who happens to be sleeping in your space, distracting you from all the important things you've got to do —"
"That's not true!" Hermione said. "You're not —"
"That's supposed to be our time together," Ron continued, not giving her the chance to make excuses for herself. "We're supposed to be a couple, doing things together, but instead, you've got your nose buried in your work and you tell me to get lost if I dare breathe."
"That's not —"
"It is!" Ron cried, and he felt tears spring to his eyes, which was not something he'd wanted to happen. "That's exactly how it is, and the fact that you can't even see it makes it so much worse. I get that you love your job, Hermione, and I'm not asking you to make any drastic changes. You're good at what you do, and I support you. But I think I've discovered one thing you're not good at, and that's being in a relationship."
"That's really unfair," Hermione said, and she now sounded furious. As furious as Ron was with her.
"Yeah, and living in a place we are supposed to share, alone, is unfair, too," Ron snapped. "Being ignored, being made to feel as if I'm in the way all the time, is unfair. I won't do it, Hermione. I won't subject myself to feeling like that anymore. That's how I felt my whole life, and I won't let it happen again. Especially when I know what we have doesn't have to be like that — that it hasn't been like that until you started working at the Ministry."
"What?" Hermione replied harshly. "So, you're saying I have to stop working just to keep you from feeling lonely then?"
"No, of course not!" Ron replied, just as angry. "I'm not asking you to quit your job, I'm asking you to actually leave when you're supposed to, to have dinner with me, to actually care about something else that doesn't involve these laws and protection acts you're trying to put through."
"They're really important —"
"Yeah, and so is our relationship, which you've completely neglected."
"Our relationship is the most important thing to me," Hermione said.
"So important that you volunteer to work on Christmas day instead of spending it with me," Ron replied.
"It was only for a few hours in the evening!" Hermione cried, and tears sprang to her eyes also. "I told you that. But if it bothers you so much, then I'll change it. I'll say I can't —"
"No point," Ron said. "You can work the whole day for all I care."
"Ron, I'll change it if it's going to upset you. I just thought because it was in the evening, then it would be okay."
"Yeah, it's okay," Ron said, "because I signed up for the first mission, which is held over Christmas. I won't be here at all."
"You what?"
"I didn't think you'd care."
Hermione stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open. Then, she shook her head and said, "Of course I care, Ron. You're… you're the most important thing to me. It's just… this is really important to me, too. This work I'm doing."
"Yeah, and the work I do is important to me, too, but you don't see me staying back past midnight each night. It wouldn't even matter if it was once or twice a week, but it's every damned night and… well, honestly, I don't know if it's worth it anymore."
There. He'd said it, and it didn't make him feel good at all.
Hermione recoiled slightly. "If what's worth it?" she asked weakly, though she seemed to already know.
"Us," Ron said, and he looked her square in the eye. He'd taken her completely by surprise and right now, he didn't actually care. "I've tried, but it seems that at the moment, I'm the only one putting in any effort. I've told myself all week that you'd come round, that it would be alright once things settled down, but I've waited a while now, it's not alright, so I don't see the point anymore. I give up."
"You give… you mean… you want to break up?" Hermione asked, and her anger vanished as quickly as it had come. She seemed frightened now — as if the immensity of everything had finally hit her.
"No," Ron said. "Not really. I love you. But I also don't want to keep being forgotten about, so if that's the only other option, then… I don't see any other option. Not for me, at least." He looked away from her, blinking away tears.
It really did suck, but he knew he was right and she was wrong.
The room filled with a very uncomfortable and depressing silence. He could feel her still watching him, but he couldn't bring himself to look back. He was scared as to what he might see. Part of him still hoped that she'd come around and the last thing he wanted to see was resignation on her face.
"Ron... I didn't realise…" She shuffled closer to him on the bed, reaching out her hand to his. He reluctantly let her take it, though for the first time ever he didn't really want her touching him. "If I'd known you were so upset by it, I would have —"
"But I tried telling you, Hermione. I tried every day when I went into your office, sometimes at nine o'clock at night to try and get you to finish up. All those times I hung around, hoping that you'd finish, and then you'd just tell me to go away. You didn't even want to listen to me, you just saw me as an interference to your important work. I've been nothing but an annoyance for you since starting this job, Hermione. Someone you'd rather be rid of than listen to. And now you come here acting as if you didn't expect any of this. I suppose I was good enough for you while you had nothing better to do, filling in your time, but now that you've found something that actually matters, I'm just some —"
"You do matter, Ron." Hermione's voice cracked and he finally looked back at her. Thankfully, there was no resignation there, but there was a lot of hurt and confusion. And some tears.
He said nothing.
"I don't want us to break up," she whispered. "That's the last thing I wanted… God… I… I'm sorry." She wiped at her eyes quickly, trying to stop the tears that were now rolling down her cheeks.
Ron didn't respond straight away as he contemplated her words. The easy way out — and what he really wanted to do — was to accept her apology, hug her, and assure her everything was going to be okay. Maybe then he could go back to pretending that he wasn't as bothered by everything. But that would be a lie, and he'd already come this far. He couldn't back out now.
"I'm not sure I'm ready to accept your apology," he said quietly.
Hermione's lip trembled and more tears sprang to her eyes. Some even rolled down her cheeks. But she seemed to accept his words, for she didn't try to argue them.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. Ron could almost hear her mind ticking over as she searched for the next thing to say. She clearly hadn't expected him to be so blunt about it, nor did he think she'd even realised something was wrong — which made things a whole lot worse. He knew he sounded whiny and needy and a little pathetic, and that he was making it all about him, but that was how he felt. And he felt that for once, he had every right to be like that.
Hermione seemed to manage to find something to say eventually. "I really am sorry," she said. "I didn't think you minded. You never seemed to when we were studying for exams…"
"We weren't together then," Ron said. "It's different now. I love you so much, but… my feelings... they're not unconditional, Hermione. I have limits, and being ignored, being made to feel as if I'm unimportant to someone I love so damn much… I told you about the Horcrux and what it did to me..."
Hermione looked down at their still entwined hands.
"I'm not expecting you to fulfill every moment of my life, Hermione. I'm not asking you to change who you are because of me. I know who you are, I know what you're like, and I love that about you. I'm just asking you to finish work on time, even if it's just once a week, so we can see each other and you can get a well-deserved break. I'm asking you to set aside some time on your weekends so we can spend them together. Or, at the very least, make a lunch that we organise at work. I just want to sometimes see you. I don't think I'm asking too much."
"You're not," Hermione said quietly. "They're completely reasonable things to expect in a relationship."
"But are they too big of asks for you?" Ron asked her.
She shook her head immediately, not even seeming to think about it. "No. They're not."
Ron nodded and they fell into another silence, their fingers still interlocked, but resting limply on the bed.
"It's Saturday," Hermione then said suddenly, her voice still weak.
"Yeah," Ron said.
"Do you want to do something?"
"Like what?" Ron asked, knowing full well that this was her attempt to try and make things right again. He wondered if she realised that this was a bit bigger than a simple misunderstanding. He wasn't sure if she'd fully grasped how close he'd come to ending things with her. She still seemed to be rather baffled at everything that had happened.
Hermione shook her head. "I… don't know. Something. Anything. Anything you want. And there'll be no work involved all weekend. I won't even think about it."
However, what was the alternative? To actually end things with her? He didn't like that idea at all. And she was trying to make an attempt, no matter how feeble it seemed at the moment.
"Yeah, alright," he said.
Hermione moved ever so slightly on the bed, and Ron thought she had considered coming closer to kiss him, but then changed her mind at the last minute. Instead, she sat up straighter and asked, "What do you want to do, then?"
"I dunno," Ron said. "Why don't you choose? It was your idea."
"What about — you liked the movie last time. Why not try that again?"
"Something different," Ron said.
"Um, a picnic?" Hermione suggested. "We can Apparate anywhere we want, if you'd like somewhere private."
"That sounds good. A picnic sounds good. You organise it."
Hermione smiled slightly, apparently happy that he'd agreed to her suggestion. "I will." She hesitated a moment before adding, "Um… will you be coming home?" Her cheeks tinged pink as she said it.
His frustration with her still lingering, but no longer the prominent emotion, he nodded without any hesitation. "Yeah," he said. "It's my favourite place to be. I just wish you were there more often."
"I will be," Hermione said with so much sincerity that Ron had trouble doubting her. "I'll try and balance things better from now on. I'll come home on time every night. I promise."
Despite not wanting to, Ron allowed a small smile to form on his lips. "Well, I look forward to it," he said, and he sat fully up on the bed.
…
Hermione Apparated them to a small loch in the north of Scotland, not too far from where Hogwarts was, Ron guessed. The backdrop painted a stunning, picturesque setting under a rare cloudless sky.
Being November, it was cold, but Hermione conjured some small fires and placed them in jars around where they sat.
This was exactly what Ron had been hoping for. Not just today, but every day since she'd begun work. He craved the loving, attentive Hermione that had been with him prior to her starting her job. He missed their weekends together, and the evenings where they shared meals and then spent the next few hours either curled up next to one another, or in a pleasant, homey silence that made Ron so happy.
He was proud of her and wanted her to succeed in any way that he knew she could, but he realised now that she had no idea how to balance her work and a relationship. She'd never had to before, growing up as an only child with two parents who spent their lives working. Thinking about that now, Ron realised that perhaps he shouldn't have gotten as frustrated as he did about it; but at the same time, he felt nothing but relief in having told her how he was feeling. It had been bothering him too much for him to just let it slide and continue going on as if nothing was wrong. It wouldn't have been fair on either of them to keep going with Hermione thinking nothing was wrong, and Ron being downright miserable about it.
He wanted to be happy with her, and he wanted her to be happy with him. They weren't in a good place now, but it didn't mean it couldn't be fixed. At least, he hoped it didn't mean that. He loved her very, very much and that part hadn't changed.
Hermione had gone all out with the picnic. She'd packed enough food to feed ten people, not two, and had even made an attempt to make it relatively romantic, which Ron appreciated. He watched her set it up — by hand, not by magic — unsure if he should say anything to her or just wait for her to speak. He'd never felt this way around her — not even when he was eleven years old — and the knowledge that he didn't know what to say, or have anything to say to her, bothered him perhaps more than it should.
Even as she made an effort, even though she'd already rejected three memos sent to her that morning, he still felt angry with her. He couldn't control it, nor explain it. It was just how he felt.
At the same time, the part of him that he thought would love her no matter what, craved to reach out and touch her again. To draw her into his arms and just hold her, making up for all of the lost time.
He didn't know what to do, nor did he know what she expected. To him, she still didn't seem to fully understand why he was upset.
"I don't know why I picked this place," she said, her tone very bright, cheerful. "It just popped into my head. Maybe it was one of the places we —" She cut off abruptly, looking away from him again.
"It's nice," Ron replied. "I like it."
Hermione offered a weak smile. "I like it too. I like view of the water."
Ron took in the water right in front of them. Soon, he guessed, it would freeze over, but for now it was still flowing and occasionally he thought he saw a fish reach the surface before disappearing again. He allowed that to distract him for a while.
"Ron?"
He came to, Hermione kneeling in front of him with a worried expression.
"Yeah?" he said.
She didn't say anything immediately. Her eyes bore into his, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she seemed to find the right words. "What do I need to do to make this right?"
"Be home," Ron said without thinking. "I just want you to be home."
She nodded sullenly.
It almost felt strange to Ron to be the one who was teaching her about how to do something. She always seemed to have the answer, and for a year and a half, she had. But now she seemed confused and a little lost, not to mention slightly out of her depth in dealing with this situation.
Despite himself, he felt some of his anger with her dissipate. And that annoyed him.
"I really am bad at this, aren't I?" she asked, half-laughing.
"A little," Ron said. "But there's really good moments, too. I promise. Most of it's good."
Hermione thought for a moment. "Ron, I've never had to do this before. I've never had to balance two things that are very, very important to me before. Growing up, education, work, it was always a high priority for me. It still is, of course, but I never had anything else to really stand in the way."
"You had a war," Ron said. "And you seemed able to do it then."
Hermione flushed. "That… that was different. That was more of a necessity… survival, if you must. But this… us… it's different. In a good way, of course!"
Ron said nothing.
"Ron, I know it's not an excuse, but please understand. I just didn't realise. I wasn't prioritising my work over you. I really wasn't. And I know that to you it looks like that, and I get it. But — and it was incredibly stupid of me — it never occurred to me that there'd be a point in our relationship where you'd… have enough."
Still, Ron didn't speak. He simply watched her, waiting for her to go on.
"I know how ridiculous that sounds, Ron. I know! But everything has been so comfortable, you've been so understanding, so supportive of me. For the most part, things for us have been really, really good. I never looked at our relationship and thought that it might end. I just thought… I thought we would be together for a long time and nothing would stand in the way of that."
When Ron continued not to say anything, Hermione went incredibly red. She was clearly hoping he'd speak up, which was strange. She usually preferred not to be contradicted, but it seemed that here she was hoping for it.
"I love you, Ron," she whispered. "And you're not second best to any job I could ever have. It's second best to you."
Ron watched her for a moment longer. The reason he hadn't said anything was because he had no idea how to respond to what she had said. The part of him that wanted to make things right was hanging onto her every word saying that she never saw their relationship ever ending. But the angry part of him was annoyed that she seemed to think she could treat him however she wanted and he'd just stick around. It annoyed him even more that there was some truth to that, too.
He didn't want to end things with her and he'd done everything he could to not have that happen, including allowing himself to be miserable for a lot longer than he should have.
"Do you promise to come home on time when you can?" he asked after a moment. "I get it, Hermione, and I know that there will be times that you can't. But, I just want you to look after yourself. You have a habit of going in too hard at times and then come out the other side worse off. And… I can support you in whatever you do. I am proud of you. I just don't want you to forget about me either."
"I promise" she said with a small smile. "I'll set a timer if I have to, and if I still have work left, then it can wait. I promise."
"And you'll eat?"
"Yes," she said. "I will."
Ron gave her half a smile. "I'm still upset with you."
"I know."
"But… I love you, and the last thing I want is to continue living my life without you in it. I can't picture a future — at least a happy one — that doesn't involve you there as well."
Her smile grew. "I feel the same way," she said quietly. "Ron, I might be bad at this, but you're really good at it. It seems so easy for you."
Ron shrugged. "I've got to be better than you at something, right? And it is easy when it's with someone I want to be with more than anything else in the world. You make it easy… most of the time."
"We still have a way to go, though, don't we?"
"Of course," Ron said. "But I think it's worth the effort."
She shuffled closer to him, this time daring to kiss him. He let her, though he didn't respond. "So do I," she said.
So, this is probably the chapter that has had the most reworking and the most rewrites to. I've tried really, REALLY hard to balance Ron and Hermione out. I've done my best to highlight flaws of BOTH of theirs, though as it is being told through Ron's POV, he naturally believes he is right - that doesn't necessarily mean that he actually IS when he thinks it.
This and the next few chapters address these flaws and - because I am following canon, you all already know - they eventually sort it out and acknowledge this about themselves.
Also, do I think that something like this could cause strain in their relationship? Yes, I do. But I've really tried to emphasise the fact that it is not the fact that Hermione has a job that is bothering Ron, it's her obsessive nature to the point of her almost neglecting him and their relationship, that upsets him. I don't think that Ron would ever be unsupportive of her ever working, but I do think that he'd be bothered by feeling second best to it with her. I hope I've portrayed that well enough.
Lastly, this whole subplot was inspired by a one shot I wrote last year called 'Don't Forget To Eat'. If you're interested in reading a much more condensed version, you can find it on my profile under my Orange Broomsticks collection.