Chapter 8: Flying on Instinct
He hadn't meant to lose his temper. He had genuinely wanted to talk to Hermione… but the second he saw her, no, the second he'd realised that Harry was keeping him from seeing her he hadn't been able to control everything that had spewed from his mouth.
Not for the first time in his life, Ronald Weasley had too many emotions and no way to keep them contained.
He didn't remember exactly what he'd said after she'd told him they were over. After she'd told him that she didn't want to be with him anymore. He was blanking on that, but he remembered feeling angry and out of control. Harry, and then Ginny, being there had only made that anger worse. How could they take her side? How could they be helping her when she'd hurt him so badly?
Where had this all gone so wrong for them? Where she'd take a left while he thought they were taking a right? That was what he really wanted to talk to her about. Why did she feel this way and how long had she felt it?
But he'd ruined his chance and now he was aimlessly wandering around muggle London. He hadn't been able to stay in Diagon Alley – there'd been reporters camped outside the apartment, all of whom had seen his explosive exit. It would be front page news by morning. He had no idea where he wanted to go.
There was the Burrow, he supposed – but his mother would smother and his father would tell him to just let time handle it. Bill and Fleur? No. They were the best couple he knew and it wasn't nice to be reminded of what he'd just lost. He didn't want to look at Harry, much less ask for his advice and his sister, well she could go to hell right now, couldn't she?
He was alone, confused and angry… but he was also lonely, sad and stressed. He was in the dark and had no idea how to get out without Hermione. She'd always been there for him, even when he'd been a prat to her in school. But, in her own words, they were over. She didn't want to be with him anymore and it was up to him to pull himself out of this. He needed to talk to her, actually talk to her but Harry was right. They needed a couple of days. Things were too raw, he was too angry. Nothing would come from a conversation at this point.
Taking out his wand he drew a breath and then apparated directly into the storeroom of the twins joke shop. He heard a squeal moments after he landed and realised Angelina was only two feet from where he'd appeared.
"Ron! Merlin, you scared me." She gasped, one hand on her chest and her wand clutched in the other.
"Sorry Ange." He murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I, uh, didn't know where else to go. Didn't really know I was coming here actually."
Her expression softened and she reached for him. A gentle touch on his shoulder had them sagging and he felt like he couldn't breathe.
"George!" She called out to her husband who was out on the shop floor.
"Ina second, love!" He called back. Ron's cheeks heated with embarrassment. Why had he come here? Fred and George had a business to run and he didn't think he knew Angelina all that well; but it had been the first place to come to mind when he'd decided to make a risky apparition out of the park he'd been standing in.
"Come and sit." She said softly, leading him into the small staff room off the side of the storeroom. He sat in one of the plush armchairs that the twins had nicked from the Burrow, much to their mother's displeasure. "You don't look like you're doing ok."
"Oh, no I'm alright." He said absently, knowing it wasn't a convincing lie even before he saw her raised brow above sceptical eyes. "I uh, saw Hermione just before… first time since the wedding and she was packing a bag... Ginny and Harry have taken her side."
"I'm sure they haven't taken -"
"Harry distracted me while Ginny helped her pack." He interrupted her, feeling his temper rise again. He drew a breath, not wanting to explode at Angelina. "I think that that says it all."
Ange gave a small hum and flicked her wand. He heard the kettle start to boil after a moment.
"What did she say when you saw her?"
Ron's throat tightened as he remembered.
"That she has to think, but we're over. She doesn't want – " He cut himself off to clear his throat. "She doesn't want to be with me anymore."
"She didn't really say that… did she?" Angelina gasped and Ron just nodded.
She had said it. She'd said it and she'd meant it and he hadn't seen it coming. There'd been no warning signs. There'd been no hints that she'd been unhappy. She didn't even want to hear him out, to talk about it and let him have a chance to try again. Sure, they'd had their arguments here and there but what couple didn't? He'd been busy at times, with the team and his career, but so had she. She could have at least given him a heads up, given him a chance to try and fix things –
"Ron?" George's voice cut through the ringing in his ears.
"Ron, mate you look dreadful." Fred's followed a moment later.
"I'm making tea." Angelina said softly. "I'll leave you three to talk... he just turned up here. Harry and Ginny – "
"Took Hermione's side." He said, looking up at George. "I didn't know where else to go… I saw her this morning and it didn't go very well."
Fred sank into the couch beside him.
"Well at least we know she's alive… but Harry and Ginny care about you both. I don't think there's sides here to take."
Ron just shrugged. The anger that had burned so brightly early that day was gone, replaced with a hollow emptiness.
He recounted what had happened that morning to the twins, taking the cup of tea from Angelina gratefully. For the first time since he was a child, he cried in front of them and for the first time in their lives, the twins didn't laugh. They supported and comforted him. After he had let it all out he felt a little better.
"Give her the week, Ron. Give yourself the week and then ask Ginny or Harry to talk to her again." Fred said gently, picking at a thread on his pants. "This all happened yesterday. The only thing we need to know right now is that she's ok."
"I want to know why." Ron muttered and George nodded.
"Of course you do… but Hermione doesn't do things brashly. She's the most organised and deliberate person we know. She'll have reasons and when the emotions aren't running so high, she'll be able to tell you."
"You are allowed to be angry though." Angelina said from the doorway. "You're allowed to be hurt and you're allowed to be upset."
"Right." Fred agreed. "We're not saying you can't be any of those things… just give yourself a week to let those things settle in a bit."
Ron nodded and let out a sigh.
"I can't go back to the apartment."
"Then kip in my spare room. Katie won't mind." Fred clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll go to your apartment and grab you some things. I'll meet you at mine later."
He worked on autopilot after that. George took him to Fred's apartment, Katie made him soup and all but tucked him into bed. He let her. There was no sense in arguing when he knew he couldn't do it for himself.
And then, for the first time in 48 hours, he managed to fall asleep.
Malfoy had been correct. Hermione felt somewhat better after both a glass of wine and a hot shower but she also still felt hollow.
She knew she'd done the right thing by leaving. She didn't regret her decision in the slightest; but there was a lingering guilt that she knew she'd have to work hard to shake. She felt like the villain of this story and she was sure the papers were making it real. She really hadn't had a reason to break up with him other than she wasn't happy… why couldn't she have just gotten used to it?
There was also the feeling of the unknown, the great wide abyss of not having a plan for the first time in a very long time.
She was flying on instinct, and her first instinct (after her hot shower and her glass of very expensive red wine) was to reach for a book and get lost in a story. Malfoy was somewhere in the cottage she was sure but he was quiet, keeping to himself and that was ok. She scoured the heaving shelves for something to read. He had a surprisingly big collection of both magical and muggle literature – everything from Lockhart's complete set to Lord of the Rings.
There were so many books but a fantasy novel with the title of A Throne Made of Glass by D.L. Blanc took her fancy and she settled into the couch and fell into the story.
It was wonderful, what she read. A muggle book about assassins and corruption with hints of magic and fae. She was so engrossed she didn't' notice when Malfoy left a toasted sandwich on the coffee table in front of her, nor when he topped up her glass. For the first time in a long time, Hermione's mind was free and willing to just be lost in something that didn't matter.
"Granger?" A hand on her shoulder at the climatic ending of the book made her jump and she blinked up at her old school enemy. "You haven't touched your food?" He said and she blinked at it.
It had gotten dark, the fire the only source of light along with the lamp beside her.
"I… didn't know it was there." She replied, reaching for it. He stopped her.
"No, don't." He gave a light laugh. "It's too cold now… I was going to head to the pub for tea if you wanted to join me?" He asked, his voice a little hesitant. He wouldn't meet her eye when she looked back at him and she wondered if he was nervous.
She ran a hand through her hair and picked up the book.
"I… only have a couple of chapters left…"
"What are you reading?" He asked, his long fingers reaching to turn the book. A smile broke out on his face. "Oh… that's a good one."
"I loved it so much." She glanced at the page she was on. She needed to find out what happened next. Did the assassin win the championship game that would mean she was contracted to be the Kings champion or did she die trying? Hermione's stomach growled as if reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast and now it was a battle between the two as to what was more important.
"Why don't you bring it with you?" Malfoy suggested, withdrawing his hand. "I've got some paperwork to do. We don't need to speak but we do need to eat and unless you feel like cooking – "
"I'm actually a rubbish cook." She admitted sheepishly. "Even with magic, I can never get it right."
Malfoy grinned and mocked a shocked expression.
"You? Rubbish at something?" He gasped. "You mean to tell me that if we'd just had culinary class at Hogwarts, I might have beaten you?"
Hermione made a mental note of what page she was on and shook her head, closing it as her stomach won out. If he was taking paperwork to the pub, she'd take the book. Maybe it wouldn't be awkward if they were sitting there doing something other than trying to make small talk.
"You did beat me in Potions class once or twice, so it makes sense." She replied tartly. "I'm not as perfect as everyone thought I was."
"I didn't beat your scores nearly often enough but I damn well tried." He shrugged, watching as she stood and fixed her hair in whatever way she could. She found her shoes and slipped them on before following him out of the cottage and onto the street.
"The competition was nice sometimes. I liked our classmates but even the Ravenclaws weren't much of a challenge." She said with a smile. Malfoy glanced at her, his brow raised.
"Still a little bit of house rivalry, hey Granger?"
"Oh come on, they were meant to be the smart house and you and I kicked their arses in every single class except the ones we didn't take."
"Didn't you actually take every class one year?"
"Stupidly." She laughed, shaking her head. "It's becoming abundantly clear why I am thw ay I am as an adult…"
Malfoy laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked to the sky and let out a breath.
"Live and let learn, Granger. We did what we thought was right at the time."
Hermione smiled and looked up, following his gaze to the stars above. There were so many of them out here, so deep in the countryside. It reminded her of Hogwarts and how pretty the nights had been there as well. No one ever knew it, but she'd often snuck up the astronomy tower to just look at the stars. It had been her little place to hide, her little secret that no one else knew.
Maybe she'd go back as a teacher instead of returning to the ministry – the thought rattled her. She hadn't considered what she wanted to do when her two weeks of leave were up and the idea had entered her head without any resistance. Did she want to go back to the ministry or did she want to find something she actually liked doing? She had allthe options in the world that concept in itself was terrifying.
They arrived at the Silver Otter – Hermione studiously avoiding the bush she'd vomited in the day before – and were seated at a small table by the window. The bartender gave her a smile and a nod before grabbing two glasses to pull pints for the people in front of them.
"So, what do you really think of the book?" Malfoy asked as she placed the book on the table.
"I love it." She answered immediately, sweeping her hands over the beautiful cover. "The characters are basic but rich and the story is simple but complex. It feels like the authors first but also there's so much love in it that it's a delight to read." She flattened her hands over the cover before flipping to the last page she'd been on. "Obviously I liked it, I'm almost finished it."
"Well, the second and third are on the shelves back at the cottage." He nodded, a secret smile on his face. He pulled out a notebook from his back pocket and opened it on the table.
"What are you doing?" she asked, hoping it wasn't too nosy.
Malfoy looked up for a moment and shrugged.
"Work. Fairly boring." He replied. Hermione nodded, satisfied with the non-answer before turning back to the book.
She ordered the steak and kidney pie absently when the bartender came by. She ate it just as absently when it was placed in front of her. In fact, she only looked up again when she got to the last page and wondered if it would be rude to leave to go and get the second book.
"Finished?" Malfoy asked her without looking up from whatever he was writing. It was strange to see him holding a ballpoint pen. Hogwarts had been so archaic with its quills and ink and parchment.
"I need to get my hands on the second book immediately." She replied, eyes shining. She picked up her glass and finished it. "I haven't enjoyed a book like this in such a long time."
"Why not?"
"I've had other things to do… work, Golden Trio bullshit, family stuff. By the time I gave my energy to everyone else, I didn't have a lot left over for me." She admitted. "It's a nice distraction."
"Well, there are plenty of books. Help yourself to any of them." He said with a nod, closing his notebook. They both stood, Malfoy paying at the bar as they passed it.
"I'll sort money out tomorrow." She promised him, feeling guilty he was paying for her again.
He waved his hand.
"Don't worry about it Granger, whenever you fix it is fine but I'm not wanting for money." He replied. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Of course, how could I forget I was in the presence of Pureblood Old Money." She gave a laugh but stopped when he shot her a narrow look.
"I didn't take any money when I walked away from my parents." He said gently. "I didn't want it. I didn't want the connection. I walked out with some clothes but the rest was up to me."
Hermione was genuinely shocked to hear. She hadn't expected the admission from him, much less what he said.
"How did you do it?" She asked softly.
He sighed, hand back in his pockets as they walked down the lane.
"Pansy helped me a little. So did Blaise, but mostly I left the wizard world and got a job at a local bookstore in London. Lived in the stupid little flat above it until I had enough to get something bigger and did what I could to survive. It was tough, but it was the best thing I ever did for myself."
"I haven't even begun to think about how I'll separate assets… maybe I should just do the same. Walk away and start again."
"Don't you dare. You're much too smart for that… also your money is yours. Mine was my families." He shook his head sharply. "Take a couple of days but Blaise is still connected to the Wizarding World. I'm sure, if you'd like me to ask, he'd be happy to help you figure out how to do all of that."
Once again his kindness left her off kilter. She'd never expected him to ever be this kind of person, this kind of man. She almost didn't want to believe it, like she should be waiting for Deatheaters to jump out and say 'Gotchya!'… but there was something sincere about him, something that had changed with time that she couldn't quite figure it out. She wanted too though, surprisingly.
"Maybe. That would be helpful…" She frowned, remembering something about the name. "He works for the ministry, doesn't he?"
"Kind of. It's difficult to explain what he exactly does but it's connected to changing the Wizengamot and legal representation within our system." Draco nodded. "He just… tries to keep it quiet but you may have heard him mentioned with where you are in the hierarchy."
Hermione cut him a sidelong glance.
"Where I am in the hierarchy?"
"I keep tabs." He shrugged, smirking slightly. She laughed. "Blaise talks about work and Pansy talks about gossip. The Golden Trio are a common theme in both topics."
Hermione sighed. He wasn't wrong of course. The Golden Trip were a common theme in all facets of the wizarding world. She hated that. It made the decision to disappear that much easier.
"I'm dreading to hear what the gossip rags have said about me today. Ron probably slandered my name after our argument…" She cringed and folded her arms across her.
"He better bloody not have." Malfoy said lowly. "I'll see to it personally that he retracts all comments or I'll make him eat them."
Hermione glanced at him again, finding weird amusement in his defensiveness.
"He has every right to say what he wants." She shrugged, not wanting to dwell on why he'd be so defensive. "Bad things have been said about me before… remember the Triwizard Tournament?"
Malfoy laughed, nodding so that his hair fell out of its perfection. It was silver in this light, so different to how Hermione remembered.
"Yeah, I remember. You made that harder for yourself by getting involved with Krum."
"I didn't want to be involved with Viktor!" She laughed, swatting him lightly on the elbow. "He fancied me, which was a weird concept at 14 when I'd only ever been called ugly."
Beside her, Malfoy winced.
"Sorry about that, Granger." The laugh slipped from his face, startling her a little. "A lot of that was my fault."
"You were a kid." She shrugged. "and honestly, you helped me fix my teeth far quicker than my parents would have been able to in the muggle world." She flashed him a wide, straight smile. He winced again, slapping a hand over his face.
"Merlin I was a right prat. How could I have ever thought hexing your teeth to grow like a rabbits was a good idea."
She elbowed him and shook her head.
"You were a kid." She said again. "We all made dumb decisions as kids. Some more than most." She added hastily at his sardonic look. She cleared her throat. "My original point stands though – I've endured bad press since I was a child so I don't know why I'm so worried."
"Maybe because it could ruin your chances at being our first female Minister for Magic?"
"Absolutely not. I don't want that." She answered quickly. Malfoy paused with his hand on his front gate. The sweet smell of the flowers hung around them as he looked at her.
"What do you want to do, Granger?" He asked. Again, the thought of teaching at Hogwarts flickered through her mind. "Because that was a very quick answer to something I was mostly joking about."
Pale eyes met hers and she worried her lip with teeth he'd helped to fix once upon a time.
"I don't know." She answered honestly, her hands tightening around the book she was clutching close to her chest. "I guess I need to figure it out."
His gaze stayed on hers for a moment longer before he ushered her through the gate before him.
"Maybe give it a day… after all, that series gets really good in the second book."
She smiled as she pushed on the door of the cottage, finding it unlocked.
Alright, she supposed, one more day and a few more books, and then she'd decide what to do with her life.
