Chapter 64

Ron had been staring at the same groove mark on the table for the past ten minutes, yet he'd not taken a single part of it in. People had come in and out around him, had sat down for their lunch break and left, and he'd barely noticed their existence.

He'd been like this for the past week — ever since he'd returned to the office after what happened in Edinburgh. It wasn't that he felt personally traumatised over what had happened. After all, it had been drilled into them in training that there was always a risk of injury (or even death) as an Auror. It wasn't even the deaths of all those Muggles. He'd seen death; he'd experienced it more times than anyone should. Whilst what had happened to them was horrific, their deaths weren't what kept him up at night or had him zoning out like he was now in the Ministry lunch room.

It ran deeper than that. This — whatever it was — felt more personal. No matter what anybody said, he knew he'd messed up a week ago, which had almost gotten himself and Ryan killed. He should have had his wand out, he should have been alert for more danger. But he hadn't been. And that had cost a lot.

He didn't even think that was what bothered him so much. It was ever since it had happened, he was seriously wondering if he'd made the right decision in joining the Aurors. It had always been something he'd admired. Aurors always seemed so mysterious, so brave, daring and cool. And, according to anyone else, it was all those things.

But it wasn't what Ron had expected and he realised now, as he sat there staring at the table, that he'd felt this way for a while — long before the Edinburgh incident. He'd just not been able to admit it to himself until now.

Being an Auror wasn't what he'd expected or hoped for. And he realised now that he'd done enough fighting to last him a lifetime. He didn't need any more of it.

He was brought from his contemplation by someone taking up a chair opposite him. At first he thought it was Harry, but then he looked up he saw that it was Hermione frowning at him. And for the first time ever, Ron wasn't glad to see her. He didn't want her to see him this way. By the time he got home each evening, he usually managed to convince her that everything was going great. He just didn't know how to tell her that the career he'd so desperately wanted and spent six years working towards, didn't seem like the right fit anymore. Somehow, he didn't think she'd understand.

"Ron?" she said, still frowning. "You're looking a little lost. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm just exhausted. This new organisation — the Black Robes — is having us working nonstop trying to figure it out. None of the perpetrators we arrested are speaking — can speak. It makes it hard."

"I know," Hermione said. "I've had to abandon so many other cases in order to manage this one. I've tried some spells with some of them, but it's not a spell I recognise. Malfoy agrees."

At that, Ron looked at her with wide eyes. "You're talking to him now, are you?" he asked, not sure how he felt about Malfoy speaking to her. He probably didn't have the balls to say anything awful, but then again… it was Malfoy. It seemed built into him to be a giant prat.

"It's… a necessity," Hermione said, appearing as if the very idea left a bad taste in her mouth. "The three of us are working on this, and we've got to communicate somehow. Besides, I'm his boss. I have to talk to him. Most of the time he responds with eyerolls and grunts, but he does what I ask, so I can't complain."

"Well, he'd know if it was some kind of Dark Magic, wouldn't he?" Ron said. "Probably familiar with them on a personal level."

Hermione smiled but said nothing. Her expression then reverted back to the look of concern she'd shown him initially. "Is something else bothering you? And I don't mean just today. When you sleep, you normally don't move, but the last week or so you've been rather restless. I've noticed. Is it what happened last week? I think it's normal to feel unsettled by it all."

Ron contemplated his response. She was his wife, and if he couldn't tell her what was going through his head, then who could he tell? But at the same time, he knew Hermione and he knew that if he told her the truth, she'd not understand. Even if she tried, even if she attempted to sympathise, she wouldn't fully grasp the concept that he didn't enjoy it anymore. He wasn't really sure he ever had.

He'd signed up for the glory — because it had been offered to him. It had almost always been a dream similar to that of playing Quidditch professionally; one he'd never fully believed would come true, so of course when the opportunity to do it was handed to him, he wasn't going to say no. And the initial few years — they'd been good. He'd had fun, but… it didn't feel fun anymore.

"It's just getting to me," he said after a moment. "We've gone from nothing to everything in the span of a week, and I don't know if what happened is still messing with my head. I keep getting random headaches every so often and it's making me even more tired."

Hermione's frown deepened. "Maybe you should see a Healer, Ron. I don't think you're supposed to be getting headaches still."

Ron shrugged. "What can they do? Shove more potion down my throat and tell me to come back if it persists?"

"You might have suffered something more serious than they thought. If you presented at a Muggle hospital, they'd probably send you for scans."

"That x-ray thing I saw on that television show once?" Ron asked, thinking back to something they'd watched together a month or so ago. He remembered them saying something about scans on that and they had been in a hospital. "No thanks."

"Well, at least go and see a Healer again. They might have something different to give you."

"I'm fine," Ron said, changing his voice to one of reassurance. "I think it's just because I'm not sleeping all that great. I'm tired, a little stressed, and the last thing I want is for these Black Robes to become the next Death Eaters. I know I always complained about never getting to do anything but paperwork, but if I'd known that this would be the alternative, I'd take the paperwork all day, every day."

"Maybe you weren't ready to come back," Hermione pressed. "Or maybe you need to be given other tasks for a while."

"And then I'd be the laughing stock of the Auror department," Ron scowled. "Can manage a war, endure Horcruxes, but can't handle one damn fight."

"Or maybe you've just reached your limit," Hermione said, her tone gentle, assuring. "It can happen."

"Harry fought more than you or I did and he seems perfectly fine. He even told me the other day it was nice to get some action."

"Everyone has different limits."

"So, I'm weak then," Ron said, his voice raising at the frustration that had been building, not just over the last week, but months.

"No, you're not, Ron," Hermione replied. "You're one of the strongest people I know, but I also know sometimes you need space to cool down. Sometimes you need time away from something to regather yourself. Maybe this is one of those times."

"I had three days off," Ron said. "And… I really am fine —" a blatant lie, "— it's just harder than I thought. That's all."

At that, Hermione had nothing to say. She seemed to resign herself to the fact that he didn't want to say anymore and let it be.

Ron stood up. "Anyway, I have to go now. My break is almost over and I have to relieve Harry. He's been working harder than anyone on this. I think he doesn't want a second wave of Death Eaters more than anyone." He moved towards Hermione and kissed the top of her head. "I'll see you at home tonight. I'll cook."

He turned to leave but was stopped by her grabbing his hand.

"I love you," she said, smiling up at him from where she still sat.

"I love you, too," he replied, this time giving her a smile that he meant.

Hermione didn't let go of his hand. "Please talk to me if there's something more," she said. "I don't want you to keep it all in. I'm here to listen if you need me."

Ron didn't say anything for a while. He simply watched her, knowing that she meant what she said. She loved him, he knew that, and she was worried about him. He just didn't know where to begin. And if he said it out loud, then it would mean it was the truth. It would mean that he had wasted six years of his life and he just didn't know how to handle that right now.

He smiled again. "I'll be sure to let you know," he promised, kissing the top of her head again. He knew she was watching him as he left the lunch room, and he knew that she didn't believe him. He wasn't a convincing liar, but he just couldn't tell her. Not when he had another five hours to get through before he finished for the day.

…

Dinner was just about ready by the time Hermione got home. Ron was alerted to her arrival by the whoosh of the fireplace and he took out two plates from the cupboard. A moment later, a very tired Hermione appeared in the kitchen, and rather than coming over to kiss him like she usually did, she collapsed into one of the chairs, rubbing her hands over her face.

"Long afternoon?" Ron asked, placing the food onto the plates.

"Longer than yours, but probably equally as busy."

Ron smiled, bringing the plates over to the table. "Yeah, probably. Don't you like that we can talk about the same things together now, though? We're sharing this stuff, so that's kind of cool."

Hermione turned her body around in the chair so that she was facing the table and Ron, who had just sat opposite her. "You seem happier than you were earlier," she commented.

"Yeah, that's because it was actually quiet in the office this afternoon, considering, and I had time to do a bit of thinking."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "About what?"

Ron picked up a knife and fork, but didn't touch his food. "Just about how I've been feeling, and how to actually say what I've been feeling. It's difficult to say it out loud."

Hermione was listening intently now, her eyes focused on him.

It had taken a lot of contemplation over the rest of the day, and while cooking, he decided that he had to tell Hermione. She was his wife, and until now, their relationship had consisted of a lot of honesty and a lot of expressing feelings. They talked a lot, and they listened a lot, and he didn't want to ruin that now. He loved her, and she had a right to know just how he felt about everything.

He sucked in a breath. "Over the last few months — maybe even close to a year — I've just been questioning a few things."

Hermione's eyes widened and he could see that her mind had jumped to the worst conclusions. He probably should have worded it better.

"About work," he said quickly.

She relaxed slightly.

"Things just haven't felt right for a while now. I was getting sick of the paperwork. It was boring, it was tiresome, and we weren't getting to do anything we'd done in training. There have been plenty of moments where I've wondered if I should not just come in one day. But I've stuck it out, because I always knew that one day there'd be something more exciting to do. Like last week."

Hermione smiled. She thought that was the end of the story.

"And it was good, being out on the field. Doing something. Getting to use magic that doesn't consist of levitating the dishes back into their cupboards, or using it to summon the television remote to me because I can't be bothered to get up and get it myself. It really did, and I was better than most of the Black Robes out there. Even without practice, all of us managed pretty well.

"But I messed up at the end, and that cost us a lot."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"I did," he said. "I know you can't see it, but I made a bad call. But you know what? That's fine. Mistakes are going to happen, and I was helping a senior Auror who'd been taken out. That's not what bothers me now. What bothers me is that I didn't feel any better after getting to do something other than paperwork."

"You were in hospital," Hermione said. "That would make anyone feel miserable."

"It's more than that," Ron said. He looked at her. She seemed confused — it was just a concept she seemed unable to fully grasp. She, herself, had been unhappy working in the Magical Creatures area, and even then she'd refused to do anything about it for a very long time.

She was waiting for him to elaborate. He sucked in a breath. This was going to be the hardest part to say out loud — the part that had kept him quiet until now. Once he said it, he couldn't take it back.

"Ron…" she pressed.

"I'm not sure I want to be an Auror anymore."

For a long time they sat in silence. This information had shocked her like he thought it would. Until now, he'd given absolutely no indication that he was unhappy, let alone thinking about leaving. He'd complained to her about things, but it had always been within the realm of normal complaints for any job.

Until recently, he'd never really taken the thought seriously himself.

Eventually, she spoke, their meals forgotten. "But Ron… you've always wanted —"

"Yeah, I know I have. And when we were training, when I was putting in all those long, hard hours, I liked it. We were doing things every day, getting to use advanced magic, going to interesting places. That was great. These days, though, it's mostly sitting behind a desk filing reports. I didn't spend three years of my life training to do that. If that's what I wanted, I could do any other job. That's not why I signed up for the Aurors."

"But you got to do something last week," Hermione argued.

"Yeah, and I hated that as well," Ron said. "I thought that I'd feel better once I got out there, but I didn't. I didn't feel like it was better or that I enjoyed it even more. If anything, it's made my feelings even stronger about it. Made my thoughts clearer."

Again, Hermione said nothing. He could see her brain working overtime in order to process what he'd just told her.

"I dunno, Hermione," he said. "I feel confused. We have a plan, I know. Things were going great, but I just feel so lousy about it all. I don't think I'm a bad Auror, but I just don't know if it's what I want to do anymore."

"What do you want to do, then?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know that either," he confessed. "This is really the first time I'm speaking about it out loud. I don't know if there's anything else I want to do. I don't even know if I really don't want to do it. I'm just confused."

"Ron, you don't think it's just because of what happened that you're feeling like this?" Hermione asked.

"If these feelings only came on a week ago, then yeah. But I've been feeling like this for ages now."

"Why didn't you say something before?" Hermione asked, and he could sense she was trying to push down frustration.

"Because I didn't really want to admit that I was having those thoughts. And… I guess I'd feel like I was letting us down. It's such an elite job and many people would kill to get into it. I'm proud to be an Auror, truly, I just… I don't know." He thought that talking about it would make him understand things more, but in truth, it had just confused him even more. Saying it out loud almost made him not want to leave. It was an elite job, and anything else he did wouldn't compare.

"Well, I don't think it's a decision to be made lightly, whatever you choose," Hermione said. "And I really think it's just what happened that is making you feel like this. I know you're feeling a bit down about landing in hospital and all." She looked at him, her face surprisingly understanding. "Maybe just give it another month or two? Until the end of the year?"

Ron watched her for a moment, looking for something else, though he wasn't sure what. Although he had known she wasn't going to get it, he supposed he'd been kind of hoping for her to suggest another option — something else he might like to do instead.

He eventually nodded. "I guess, yeah," he said. "What harm will a few more months do? I'll think about it some more and see how I feel come December." It was September now, which gave him a good few months to sort things out in his head. The number one thing being — what was he to do if he wasn't an Auror? His training was very niche. It wasn't like he could suddenly take up a position in Hermione's office, or with his dad's office. Not when he'd contributed to the Ministry's new system of ensuring correct knowledge and training for specific jobs.

He smiled at her again, wanting to move past the topic. "Should we eat before dinner gets cold?"

Hermione nodded, finally looking down at her food and picking up the cutlery. "Thanks for telling me, Ron," she said.

"Yeah, thanks for listening. I needed to get it off my chest."

She smiled again, bringing the food to her mouth. "Just think about it some more," she said. "That's all."

"I will," Ron assured her, though much like all those months leading up to Edinburgh, he still wasn't actually sure what his answer was going to be.

This is going to a bit of a process for Ron to get through, so you'll have to bear with me! He's going to spend the next about 20 and more chapters going backwards and forwards (it's not going to be EVERY chapter, I promise!) until he makes a decision. I just don't think this is something Ron would have made likely, and in all honesty, I'm still trying to pad it out for it to make more sense (with the help of Autumn!). These are the chapters I've come back to a number of times to actually ensure it makes sense.

So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I assure you that it's only going to pop up every so often amongst other things of their every day lives!