Chapter 17: Final Decision
Hermione stepped out of the Floo network into the quiet hallway of Grimmauld Place. The house was unusually still, a stark contrast to the usual noise that greeted her. Normally, the sound of James' playful antics would fill the air. But tonight, all was silent. Hermione glanced at her watch—8 p.m. It wasn't late enough for them to be asleep, and she wondered if perhaps Harry and Ginny were out for the evening. Still, a strange unease settled over her.
She walked through the living room, calling out softly, "Harry?"
To her surprise, Harry wasn't out, and he wasn't alone. Seated across from him was Ron, and the two of them were playing a game of wizard's chess. The crackling fire gave the room a warm glow, but the atmosphere felt thick with tension.
Hermione paused, suddenly uncertain about barging in. She had come to ask Harry about his investigation on Draco, but seeing Ron here threw her off balance.
Harry looked up from the chessboard, his eyes landing on her. He gave her a faint smile, but there was something strained behind it. "Hey, Hermione. Are you okay? You look..."
Hermione glanced at Ron, and immediately, her heart sank. The thought of talking about this around him now made her stomach churn. "It's nothing, Harry," she replied, already beginning to retreat. "I'll come back another time. I just wanted to ask you something about your report."
As she turned to leave, Ron's voice cut through the silence.
"Wait, Hermione." His tone was impatient, and she could feel the frustration simmering beneath his words. "Look, I need an answer from you. I can't wait around forever. What's it going to be?"
Hermione sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. She had been trying to avoid this conversation, hoping to delay it until her mind was clearer. But now it seemed she had no other choice. She turned back to face him, her expression weary.
"Ron," she began slowly, "don't wait around for me. Draco is the father, and I'm going to choose him."
"What?" Ron's face contorted in disbelief and anger. "You're going to choose that cheating bastard?"
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "What did you say?"
Harry's eyes darted between them, confusion creasing his brow. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Ron continued, his voice sharp and accusatory.
"I know what happened, Hermione. You're really going to pick him even though he cheated on you?"
"How would you even know that?" Hermione asked, her voice steady but cold.
Ron's eyes flickered with panic, but he quickly composed himself. "My friend, Thomas, was at the Leaky Cauldron. He saw Malfoy there, and he told me everything. He asked me what was going on between you and Malfoy."
Hermione felt a knot of dread tighten in her stomach. How had Ron found out so quickly? But that didn't matter now. She needed to be clear, to make him understand.
"Ron," she said firmly, "Draco didn't cheat on me. We weren't really seeing each other. I hadn't made a decision yet. So why would he break up with the love of his life when he had no idea if I'd choose you or him? It's not cheating if we were never together."
Ron's face twisted with anger, his hands clenching into fists. "How can you say that, Hermione? How can you trust him? You said he was a changed man, but he's not. Can't you see that?"
Hermione held her ground, her voice unwavering. "No, Ron, he has changed. Maybe not as much as I thought, but he genuinely cares about the baby. That's why he's been coming over every morning, helping me through my morning sickness. He wants to be there for his child. And that's why I'm going to pick him—it's what's best for the baby."
Ron's face flushed with fury, his voice rising as he took a step closer to her. "No, Hermione. You just want his money, don't you? You're going to throw away everything we had for Malfoy's money!"
Hermione felt a flash of anger so intense it burned away the remaining traces of hurt. She stepped forward, her eyes blazing. "We didn't have anything, Ron. We broke up long before this, and whatever chance you had left, you destroyed it when you used that love potion on me."
The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the room was silent. Even Harry looked startled, his eyes wide as he tried to process what was being said.
"What the hell is going on?" Harry asked, his voice sharp. "What is this about cheating and a girlfriend? Hermione, you said Draco had a girlfriend? That can't be true. I looked into his background. He had relationships, sure, but none of them lasted more than three months, and I'm certain he was single when you got pregnant."
"That's what I wanted to ask you about," Hermione said, turning to Harry. "I couldn't believe you would have missed something like that. You did an extensive report on Draco. How could you not know about this?"
Ron's eyes widened at her words, and a flicker of fear crossed his face. His hand trembled slightly as he stepped closer, his voice rising in desperation. "Stop looking for excuses to defend him, Hermione. He's going to be a terrible father, and you're going to regret choosing him. He's a bloody Malfoy, a sadist! You're making a huge mistake!"
Ron's face was too close now, his anger pressing in on her, and Hermione's patience snapped. Without hesitation, she grabbed his collar and pulled him down to her eye level.
"Draco is going to be a fantastic father," she growled, her voice steady despite the fire burning within her. "He may not love me, but he loves this baby. And it's not the creepy, obsessive, controlling kind of love that you have."
Her words were sharp, and Ron recoiled as though she had slapped him. His face twisted with rage, but before he could respond, Hermione's voice rose again, louder and more forceful.
"And let me tell you something else, Ron. If Draco turns out to be bad for me, I still won't marry you. I'll find someone else. In fact, Parvati told me she has a list of people who would be more than willing to step up, so you can just forget about me."
Ron stared at her, his face pale, his disbelief and fury warring for dominance. "This... this isn't over," he muttered, his voice shaking with anger. "You're going to regret this."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "I don't care, Ron. I don't care. I've made my decision, and I'm sticking to it."
Just as she turned to leave, something caught her attention—an all-too-familiar scent lingering in the air. It was the sharp, expensive cologne that Draco always wore, the one that clung to his clothes whenever he came to visit.
Hermione froze. Her heart began to race as the pieces started falling into place. She turned back to Ron, her eyes wide with realization.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "It was you, wasn't it?"
Ron's face blanched, his eyes darting around the room, searching for a way out. Hermione's voice grew louder, stronger.
"You were pretending to be Draco at the Leaky Cauldron," she accused, her voice trembling with anger. "That wasn't him kissing another girl, was it? It was you."
Ron flinched, and then, to her utter disbelief, he smirked. "Of course I did," he spat. "I couldn't watch you destroy your life. I had to show you what a bloody mistake you were making."
Hermione's entire body shook with rage. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So, you tricked me into thinking Draco was cheating?" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. "You ruined everything because you couldn't stand the thought of me choosing him over you?"
Ron took a step back, his smirk fading as he realized the gravity of what he had done. "I was just trying to protect you, Hermione. You're making a huge mistake, and I—"
"Congratulations, Ron," Hermione interrupted, her voice cold and unforgiving. "You've destroyed our friendship."
And without another word, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound reverberating in the silence that followed. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she had just discovered. But this time, she didn't feel the crushing despair she had felt before. No, this time she felt something else entirely—relief.
Relief that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for her after all.
As she left Grimmauld Place, Hermione felt the cool night air brush against her skin, but instead of feeling cold, she felt something else: clarity.
