Okay, we're back. I'm sorry for the wait. I haven't done much writing lately. In the last month, I have been sick for at least 20 days of it. Autoimmune diseases are no joke during flu season, and my area has got some crazy respiratory diseases going around too, and it's just harder for me to recover now. But we've made it, and the season is almost over, so let's pray for warmer weather ASAP.
I don't know how I feel about this chapter as a whole, but it was necessary. We've got to push Hermione to get over the Ronald, so tough love and drama is necessary. I'll see you next chapter, and (again) thank you to all of you who have put up with the sporadic updates! I know it can be annoying, but life is unpredictable sometimes. See you soon!
NanHackett: Thank you! I totally understand — reviewing is sometimes a lot after a long day, but I'm glad you're enjoying it all so far. Their date was my favorite chapter to write and I'm so excited to write more of them. They're so cute together. More dates are coming in the next few chapters!
Chapter Eleven
She knew she was crazy, but it felt like the moment that she'd chosen a date for the wedding, the weeks started passing by in a blur.
Before she knew it, it was the day of Harry's birthday party, and she was trying to remember everything that Ginny had advised they'd be needing for the day.
Mrs. Weasley was in charge of the food, of course, and she was all of a tizzy when Hermione had come down for breakfast, going over everything she'd need to make and writing out a schedule to start cooking. She seemed to be under the impression that everything needed to be perfect, and she'd refused to have Kreacher help. Something or other about it being impersonal unless she did it herself.
Seeing as Hermione was well against using house-elves to do a wizard's bidding, she wasn't about to complain. The cake would have tasted much less delicious if she knew that an elf had had to slave away in the kitchen to make it.
At any rate, because Ginny wanted to be as surreptitious as possible, they had to wait outside Grimmauld for Harry and Ron to leave for Auror training. Ron had very conveniently left the wards and protection spells down — an insistence of Harry's after the war despite there being no real threat any longer. He said it was a result of him being an Auror (and, therefore, more open to attack), but Hermione suspected it had more to do with his PTSD than anything else.
And she didn't exactly blame him. If she ever left the Burrow, she'd be warding the place like no other. One day at the hands of Bellatrix had been enough to teach her that she was never as safe as thought she was. Even the twins had taken to warding the shop as if it were a bomb shelter, and it had taken her weeks to remember all of the spells they put on it in order to open without one of them present.
At any rate, they were cautious when they stepped over the threshold, just in case Ron had forgotten one or two spells. After a prolonged moment — in which they were not thrown across the room or electrocuted by a mysterious shock — Hermione relaxed.
Ginny grinned at her.
"Right, let's get started," she said, commandeering the situation quickly. "I don't think we'll be using more than the den, the sitting room, and the kitchen, so we can decorate those. And maybe the banister, now that I'm thinking on it —"
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she followed her friend into the sitting room.
"Exactly how many people did you invite, Ginny?"
Ginny looked around the room with a critical eye.
"Quite a few," she said distractedly. "My family, obviously, and there's a lot of us, plus fiancés now. Neville and Luna, obviously. Dean, Seamus, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Demelza Robins, Alicia Spinnet. Most of the DA, except for Zacharius Smith because no one wants to be around that prat —"
"Oh, so you invited Cho Chang?"
Ginny gave her an incredulous look.
"Of course not," she snorted. "She's got a hero complex —"
"I feel like that's a bit hypocritical coming from you," Hermione said, laughing, accepting streamers to place around the room. Ginny ignored the comment completely.
" — and she was way too interested in Harry before the battle. I've already got to listen to Romilda talk about how she tried to slip him a love potion," Ginny continued as though she hadn't spoken. "That's enough for me."
Hermione paused what she was doing to look at Ginny curiously.
"She still does that?" she said in surprise. "I figured she'd have stopped by now. Doesn't that upset Ron at all?"
A part of her hoped that it did, and she hated herself a little for that, but it would have been nice to know that things weren't all sunny and smooth between him and his fiance.
They certainly weren't for her. There was nothing wrong between her and George, but she was still trapped in this place in her head where she was engaged to her best friend and she was getting everything she'd ever wanted since she was fourteen. It was a cage, that place, but one she didn't know how to escape.
Ginny, who normally avoided any talk about Ron and Romilda with her (much to Hermione's annoyance), seemed too distracted — or excited — to forgo her questions this time around.
"Romilda's good at keeping him calm about most things, to be honest," she said casually. "I'm not really sure how she does it. He's always been a hot-head, but he lets it slide by most of the time. Romilda seems to think of it as more of a running joke than anything else, and she gives Ron enough attention that he doesn't question it too much."
Hermione had no idea what to do with this information.
On one hand, it really didn't make her feel better. Ron had always wanted constant attention, and he'd been overlooked in his family for so long that he'd become desperate for any shred of it that he could get. Hermione hadn't exactly been the coddling sort, and giving him attention to settle his insecurities had felt like more work than it was worth. To her, it felt like something he needed to work on himself. She'd been careful to not try and make those insecurities worse and to pretend like she didn't notice them for his sake, but maybe she'd been too flippant about them.
It also wasn't like Ron to be calm in situations that invoked jealousy. He'd always been jealous. It had driven her half-mad. He'd always suspected that something was going on between her and Harry, no matter how absurd that thought was, and any opportunity he'd had to get angry over that, he did. He seemed about as insecure about Harry as he had been in everything else, constantly sure that everyone was interested in him only because they were interested in Harry.
It made no sense to her that he'd be so accepting of Romilda trying to slip Harry a love potion.
Unless perhaps he simply wasn't as interested in Romilda as he had been in Hermione. That was a bad thing to be hopeful about, truly.
But the alternative was accepting that he and Romilda were a better fit for each other and she definitely didn't like that.
Ginny pulled her out of her morose thoughts.
"Anyway, how are things with you and George?" she said, waving away the conversation as if it were an annoying fly that she couldn't get rid of. "You two looked quite cozy at dinner a few weeks ago."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the sly tone of her voice. Ginny was convinced that there was something between her and George that was far more than it felt like.
"It's fine," she said firmly. "We were just talking about that stupid book Fred found me reading. It was nothing untoward."
Ginny snorted, giving her an impatient look.
"He's your fiance, Hermione," she said pointedly. "It's not untoward to enjoy his company. Or whatever else you're enjoying with him, actually —"
"Ginny!" she said, horrified. "Would you not — can you not — it's not like that! We're friends!"
Ginny sighed heavily.
"You're going to go down swinging, I can tell," she said with a shake of her head. "I just think this will be a lot easier for you if you actually tried to consider what it could be like with George. You can't pine after Ron forever."
"I'm not pining —" she said indignantly.
"Please, Hermione," Ginny said dryly. "If I looked that word up, you're picture would be right next to it with pathetic written clear across your forehead —"
"Thank you, Ginny, this is very helpful," Hermione snapped. Ginny sighed again.
"All I'm saying is you can't do this to yourself forever," Ginny said gently. "Wasn't it you who told me that I couldn't keep pining after Harry?"
"That was entirely different!" she said defensively. "For one thing, no one was getting married. And for another, I wasn't asking you to go about dating people you only thought of as a friend!"
Ginny tilted her head to look at the banner she'd stuck to the ceiling with her wand. She nodded to herself once before she turned to face Hermione head on.
"You don't think George is attractive?" she demanded, sounding slightly offended. Hermione spluttered.
"I — what?" she said, bewildered. "What difference does that make?"
"Well, if you only see him as a friend, then there must be a reason for that," Ginny said, her hands on her hips. "So…is he ugly or something?"
"No, of course not!" Hermione said. "But that's hardly proof of anything! Harry's attractive, but you don't see me snogging him."
"Alright, fine, then what is it?" she demanded. "He's not intelligent enough? Because he didn't need more O.W.L.s, you know, and intelligence is measured in more than just test scores. Or is it because he jokes around a lot? Because you could use some loosening up, I'll tell you that —"
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Hermione muttered to herself. "Look, it's none of those things. He's clearly brilliant, and he's ambitious, which I like. He's thoughtful and kinder than I suspected. He's not ugly either, for Merlin's sake. In another world, maybe…but this is —"
"This is your safety net," Ginny said bluntly. "Ron is your safety net. Well, I hate to break it to you, Hermione, but your safety net has been ripped out from under you whether you like it or not. You aren't going back to your old, perfectly organized life. The sooner you accept that, the easier this is going to be."
Hermione would like to have thrown something at her. She'd always been blunt, having grown up with so many brothers who were, quite often, very tactless.
It didn't mean she enjoyed hearing the words come out of her mouth. Because they were true or because they were cruel, she wasn't sure. She hadn't signed up for any of this, and she'd always been meticulous about how her life looked.
What was so bad about that?
And Ron wasn't just her safety net. He was the only person she'd ever loved, and letting go of that was terribly miserable to consider, whether she enjoyed George's company or not.
But whether she liked it — or wanted it — didn't mean that Ginny's words weren't true. She'd made as much headway in those Ministry documents as Harry had in Occlumency. She was convinced at this point that the public was going to have to pitch enough of a fit that the Ministry couldn't do anything except revoke the law.
But things like that took time to organize and doing so would put everyone's freedom on the line. No one wanted to be sent to cells in Azkaban, forced to relive their very worst memories over and over again. Hermione was quite certain she knew which of her memories would be used in that regard, and she got enough of a reminder from her dreams.
Which meant that she was marrying George Weasley, and the sooner she accepted it, the easier it would be. So said Ginny.
She wanted that to be true, but it made as much sense as the rest of her life did at the moment. Which was not at all.
The whole thing was in shambles.
She and Ginny worked in silence for quite a while, their irritation with each other leaving them mute. After a while, Ginny's resolve seemed to have melted some because she started talking to her again about Quidditch tryouts. The Holyhead Harpies had been looking for a Chaser, though it would be a reserve position, but Ginny didn't appear to mind much.
By the time that they'd managed to decorate both the sitting room and den, Hermione had been subjected to hours of Quidditch talk that she truly did not care about, but it was hard to ignore how excited Ginny was about the whole thing.
It was a relief when the twins entered the kitchen, levitating an absurd amount of alcohol into the room.
"Where do you want this, Gin?" Fred called to his sister, who was hanging streamers that would bang, whizz, and pop at random intervals.
"Ask Hermione, I'm trying not to light my hair on fire," Ginny said impatiently.
"Be a bit nicer to look at you if you did," Fred quipped, laughing when Ginny sent him a rude gesture over her shoulder. "What are we doing with these, Granger?"
Hermione jumped down from the stool she'd been using to hang balloons and eyed the alcohol disapprovingly.
"Do we really need this much?" she said, hands on her hips.
"Better safe than sorry, Granger," George grinned. "This is a bit heavy, you know."
"You're levitating it," she said with an eye roll, drawing her wand, and conjuring several large, aluminum containers.
"Channeling so much powerful magic through my wand hurts my wrist," he said, pouting exaggeratedly. Fred sniggered when she rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
"Yeah, and he really needs that hand for something else, if you catch my —"
"Please stop talking!" Hermione said hurriedly as George smacked Fred upside the head with his free hand. Fred laughed loudly. "Just put it in the buckets and you can conjure ice on top of it. We don't need a bunch of drunk people walking down the stairs to the cellar and breaking their necks."
"True," Fred said, loading one of the containers. "If we really want to go that route, we can just push 'em down the stairs anyway."
Hermione sighed as if he were causing her a great deal of pain.
"This is a birthday party, if you'll recall, Fred," she said with an eye roll. "We're not pushing anyone down the cellar stairs —"
"Not even Cormac McLaggen?" George said hopefully.
Hermione opened her mouth immediately to say no, but then the words hit her and she closed it abruptly.
"I — will you quit distracting me?" she huffed instead of answering. George grinned at her. "Harry will be here in an hour."
She whirled to stand back on the stool and continue with the banner she'd been sticking to the wall above the table. She was fairly certain that she heard Fred mutter, "That wasn't a no," to George when she'd turned her back on them, followed by George's laugh, but she pretended she didn't notice it at all.
She had particular feelings toward McLaggen after that disastrous date they'd had at Slughorn's Christmas party, and though she was aware inviting him to that particular party had been her fault, she didn't care one bit if he got pushed down the stairs.
She just really didn't need to tell the twins that, as she was half afraid that they would take her disregard for McLaggen's general safety as permission to do something ridiculous. She was fairly certain that they'd been joking to begin with, but it wasn't always easy to tell for her.
When the twins had finished with their task, Ginny immediately commandeered them to tie balloons to the staircase bannister. Then Mrs. Weasley was there with mounds and mounds of food that she needed their help bringing in to set the table with; steak and kidney pie, shepard's pie, carrots, peas, Brussel sprouts, treacle tart, and a massive cake that was clearly intended to feed half the country. It was apparent that the woman's earlier stress was earned because she'd prepared food for the entire party. Hermione didn't know why she was surprised; it was within her nature to feed any and everyone who stepped through her door.
By the time people began arriving, Hermione nearly wanted to hide away for a moment just to get a breather before the room filled with a multitude of people she recognized, but she didn't have the time. Once they started appearing, they came in droves, and she was too busy explaining the spiel Ginny had given her about where to get food and drinks, and to keep their nosey arses — though Hermione deliberately chose different words — away from the upstairs bedrooms. Another spiel about not shouting "SURPRISE!" when Harry came in because the last thing they needed was for him to start flinging hexes about in alarm and sending them all to Mungo's.
Next thing she knew, Harry was walking into the kitchen looking apprehensive about what he might find, Ron following closely behind him with a grin. There were loud exclamations from the people nearest him.
"Harry!"
"Happy Birthday, Harry!"
"Are those wrinkles, Harry?"
Hermione snorted when Harry gave Lee Jordan a pointed look. The older Gryffindor, surrounded by Fred and George and the other quidditch players, looked affronted by the suggestion that he shouldn't be asking that, but Ginny was already within Harry's line of sight, grinning widely and waving Hermione over frantically.
"Happy Birthday!" Ginny exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around him. He squeezed her back, seeming quite surprised by what was happening around him still. Ginny noticed and frowned slightly. "Is it too much?"
Harry appeared to come to his senses at the worry in her voice and he shook his head, grinning at her widely.
"No, it's great," he said earnestly. "I guess I just wasn't expecting so many people to be here. Is this the entire DA?"
"Minus Cho," Hermione said, grinning widely at her best friend when Ginny rolled her eyes at the mention of her. Hermione wrapped her best friend in a hug, squeezing tightly, as Ginny was distracted by someone coming up to ask her a question. "Happy Birthday!"
"Thanks, Hermione," he said happily. "Ron warned me so I wouldn't hex anyone, but this feels…weird."
Hermione pulled back from him, frowning.
"Weird how?"
"Just that I'm not used to celebrating my birthday like this," he said, seeming awestruck still.
The words tore at her heart, and made her want to go have a word — or a dozen — with his aunt and uncle, who had been nothing short of abusive to him throughout his childhood.
But she attempted to keep the conversation light, given the circumstances.
"Well, Ginny has been planning this for quite some time, and she's been all worked up over the entire thing," Hermione said. "I'm sure this won't be the last time you have a massive party like this. Mrs. Weasley was beside herself making all of the food."
Though that wouldn't have been obvious now. The woman had busied herself with making the rounds with food and drink, shoving plates and cups into hands as if she had every intention of feeding everyone present, looking quite pleased by the number of people that had shown up for Harry.
"You all really didn't have to —"
"We know we didn't, Harry," Hermione interrupted firmly, pushing her way through the crowd of people to get to the table of drinks. "We wanted to. And besides, you saved me another day of dodging Eugene's putrid concoctions so I've hardly got anything to complain about."
Harry grinned at her, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer and twisting the cap off.
"Still having problems with Eugene?" he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
She'd have lectured him, but he was so happy these days, and she couldn't find it within herself to gripe at him for being amused at her expense.
"Yes," she said tartly, deliberating ignoring how hard Harry was trying not to laugh at her. "I think he might have been Fred and George's long lost brother. Or maybe the antichrist."
Harry snorted so hard that butterbeer came out his nose unexpectedly. She didn't withhold her smirk at his expense as he grabbed for napkins to wipe away the mess he'd made on himself.
"Isn't he eight?" Harry said, wiping at the shirt he'd just ruined. Hermione rolled her eyes, waving her wand to vanish the mess. "Thanks."
"He is eight," she said with a frown. "Even the Antichrist was a child once. Or so I assume based on my dealings with Eugene." Harry looked torn between concern and laughter as he blinked at her, but before he could comment, Ron was calling for him across the room. Harry hesitated, looking at her awkwardly, and she sighed sadly, waving him off. "Go. I need a drink anyway."
"You could always come —" he coughed when she gave him a hard look. "Right, sorry. I'll just be a minute."
They both knew he was lying, but she didn't mention it as he walked off. She looked around the room for someone else to speak with, but the room was packed with people. She didn't see Neville, who was quite possibly the only person other than Harry and the Weasleys that she would have any interest in speaking with, but moping in the corner by herself felt like an even worse idea than waiting around to see someone that she wanted to speak with.
The twins were surrounded by a group of old friends, laughing with Lee Jordan in particular, but it felt weird to just join mid-conversation as if she had any real right to be there. Aside from how weird the law had made things, she really hadn't spent much time with the twins and their friends at school, and it felt awkward to assume she'd be welcomed now. It wasn't as if she and George had any choice in their current circumstances. She certainly didn't want to start intruding on his time with his friends.
She could just suck it up and go speak with Harry, Ginny, and Ron. Even if Romilda was over there. Truthfully, Ginny had been right earlier, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself. She hardly even knew Romilda, and it wasn't as if she and Ron had been on good terms when the letters had mailed to begin with. It certainly wasn't Romilda's fault that she'd been placed in between them any more than it was George's. And if Hermione were honest with herself, she really hadn't been handling things well — snapping at George at every turn, being morose any time she wasn't working at the shop, watching for Romilda and Ron at every opportunity. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd reacted rationally to her life at all.
She was really losing herself at this point, and she hated that more than anything else.
But perhaps she'd just expected things to be a little different. They hadn't even spoken for more than ten seconds since the law had been announced. He was off moving on even though they'd never even officially called things off.
Closure, as George had called it. That was what she was missing.
Perhaps a bit ridiculous of her to expect at this point — there were a lot of times in life where closure just wasn't an option, and this felt like one of those times. But they were best friends before anything else, and it felt like he'd merely cast her aside. She had such a hard time wrapping her head around that that she couldn't even begin to move on to the rest of it.
Had her entire life and personality always revolved around Harry and Ron or was she just so pathetic that it felt that way right now?
It was sad how different her life seemed now. She had always been so comfortable in her niche with Harry and Ron, and now that that had been disrupted it almost felt like she didn't belong anywhere at all.
"Hermione, it's been awhile."
She nearly swore out loud at the sound of the voice behind her. She searched desperately for something or someone else to talk to, but unless she wanted to disrupt Fred and George, she was running out of options.
Seeing as her alternative was speaking with Cormac McLaggen, she actually made to lunge in their direction despite her previous hesitance, but McLaggen stepped in front of her before she could get too far. She swore under her breath, rearing back in an attempt to stop her momentum before she ran into him.
He was large, even now that he didn't play Quidditch, as though he spent all of his free time benching goal posts. He was tall, still with wiry-hair, and she reluctantly admitted that he was quite attractive. It didn't make up for his poor personality and manners, but she understood why he was such an arrogant cockroach.
She cringed when a self-satisfied chuckle left him when she didn't at all manage to avoid touching him. He'd stepped forward too suddenly for her to stop all her momentum, and though she'd reared back to avoid him, she was forced to catch herself on his arm before she went tumbling over his feet.
"It's good to see you too, Granger, but I've got a fiancé now, I'll remind you."
Every part of her revolted at the words, as if she hadn't run into him by accident and had deliberately fallen as a means to flirt with him. Did people even do that? Was that a real tactic?
It didn't matter one way or the other because she'd not have wasted any effort on him anyway. He was quite possibly the most vile human being she'd ever come into contact with, and why would Ginny have invited him?
"You stepped in front of me," she said as firmly as she was able, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. "I was just —"
"Just wondering how I've been, yes," he said with a large smirk. Would it be overdramatic of her if she screamed in frustration? "Well, since you've asked —"
"I didn't."
" — I actually have been trying out for some of the Quidditch teams in the league now that we've graduated," he said arrogantly as if she hadn't said anything at all. "They're quite impressed with my record at Hogwarts —"
"You didn't even make it on the team at Hogwarts," she snorted before she could stop herself. They blinked at each other in surprise, and she berated herself silently; she'd been spending far too much time in the presence of the Weasley twins. Their disregard for polite conversation was rubbing off on her, though she was a bit amused to see McLaggen's face turning red in anger.
"I'll remind you that I played in one game when Weasley was out being poisoned. I did quite well —"
"You knocked out our Seeker and the team captain," she said before she could stop herself. McLaggen didn't even seem to care, his anger clouding his judgement — or his hearing, she couldn't tell.
"— and I've landed a position as Keeper for the BallyCastle Bats."
He was so superior about this fact that she had to swallow several times before she could force any words past her throat.
"Congratulations," she said, looking around him desperately for anyone to notice that she was currently in a conversation with a human worm. Harry was no longer speaking with Ron, though she nearly stomped in frustration to see that he'd managed to find Neville and Luna in the crowd of people around her.
She couldn't see Ron, who, at this point, she'd have simply cheered to see if it got her out of this situation. Fred and George were still talking with Katie, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, and had now been joined by Alicia Spinnet. They were clearly too enraptured in their conversation to notice that she was about to slam her head repeatedly into a wall.
Why would she have had the ridiculous notion that she couldn't interrupt them and their friends? She should have interrupted them. Just stood next to them awkwardly.
Anything would have been better than being stuck alone with Cormac McLaggen.
"Congratulations aren't necessary," he said, his chest puffing out importantly. "It was a given that I'd be selected by one of the major league teams. This law throws a bit of a wrench into things, but I've been paired with Padma Patil, and she's a treat. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping it would be you. We had a good time at Slughorn's party, didn't we?"
Just the reminder of it made her want to vomit. She'd had to escape him several times before she'd left the party early, and it was her own fault, really. There was no one else to blame but her. She'd only gone with McLaggen because she'd asked Ron and he'd started dating Lavender Brown even though he'd said he'd like to go with her and she'd wanted to rub his nose in it.
At the time, she'd thought McLaggen would annoy Ron the most and that he couldn't be nearly as annoying as he came across once people got to know him.
She'd been very wrong. It had quite simply been the worst party she'd ever attended and definitely the worst date she'd ever been on.
"Congratulations to you both," she gritted out, silently praying for Padma's sanity. She made to take a step around him. "I have to join my own fiance so —"
She'd never called George her fiance since the letters had gone out, but she didn't care. It felt weird on her lips, but if it got her out of this horrendous situation, she'd call him the love of her life.
"You see Weasley every day," McLaggen said, waving her off and shoving a glass of wine into her hand. She blinked down at it in surprise. "Surely you can go a few minutes to catch up with an old friend."
The way he said friend made her drink the entire glass of wine she was holding to repress a shudder.
"It's not Ron," she said. "I've been paired with George Weasley and he's going to worry —"
McLaggen gaped at her.
"You've been paired with — wait a moment," he said, laughing to himself. "Is this a joke?"
Hermione bristled.
"No," she snapped. "Why would it be?"
"Well because I heard Alicia Spinnet saying she was going home with him tonight," McLaggen said and Hermione jolted in surprise, her gaze snapping to where George and Alicia were standing. "So I thought he'd been paired with her."
Hermione didn't know what that sharp feeling in her chest was, but it certainly was not jealousy. Not a chance.
It wasn't any of her business if George and Alicia were standing too close together, and it definitely wasn't her business that Alicia was laughing a little too loudly at what George had just said or that her perfect, manicured hand was resting on his arm possessively.
It certainly did not matter because she had her own issues and —
Was she insane? How could one possibly go from pining after Ron to feeling something-that-still-wasn't-jealousy for George Weasley?
She had to be losing it.
"Well, Alicia might wish she was going home with him tonight, but I assure you that she isn't," Hermione said, sidestepping the Gryffindor again. "Now, as I said, I have to join him or he'll be worried that —"
"Worried?" McLaggen sniggered. "I don't think either one of those two is capable of worry."
Hermione halted, irritation sparking in her chest as she whirled back around to face him.
"What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" she said, her eyes narrowing.
She might have been one of those stupid people who'd have made a similar comment about Fred and George a year ago, but she knew better now. She knew how they hated being viewed as entirely insincere. And though their relationship was currently undefinable, she'd be damned if she let anyone talk about them in a way she knew they secretly despised.
McLaggen didn't even appear to notice her building irritation, and she was sure she was going to have to hex him, but he was spared by Mrs. Weasley hustling over, looking stricken.
"Hermione, dear, have you seen Ron?" she said, looking frantically around. "We want to do cake, but we can't find Ron and I'd hate for him to miss it."
Hermione tore her gaze from McLaggen, and nearly jumped at the opportunity to get away from the man before her.
"I haven't, but I'll go check upstairs," she said hastily, making her way toward the door. She waved at Neville with a grin, promising to speak with him when she came back, and climbed the stairs quickly to the first floor.
There were a few party-goers up here as well, some of whom she recognized from school. She was caught several times in conversation as she made her way around the rooms Ginny had cordoned off for the party, but she didn't see Ron anywhere.
She made her way upstairs without even really thinking about it. It was more likely that he was just downstairs and they'd missed him when they'd originally been looking, but she might as well check while she was up here. At worst, it would be a waste of her time. At best, she'd get a few minutes to herself away from the sounds of the party downstairs. If it also happened to give her some space from McLaggen, then so be it.
She remembered from her conversations with him that his bedroom was on the third floor, where the twins had slept when they'd first come to Grimmauld place. It looked nothing at all like it once had, and was now bright, homey, and comforting despite the fact that she'd never lived or spent much time there at all.
They hadn't moved into Grimmauld until she'd gone back to school, and she hadn't found much time to visit on breaks when she was studying obsessively for N.E.W.T.s. This was really the first time she'd gone up so far since they'd moved into the building, and it took her by surprise how much different it all looked — no dust, no cobwebs, no peeling wallpaper or hanging house-elf heads.
So caught up in her surprise, she didn't immediately notice when the bathroom door on the third floor swung open until she nearly went running headfirst into Romilda.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry!" she said, catching herself on the doorjamb in surprise. "I didn't know that you were out here! You gave me a fright."
"Sorry, I was just looking for…"
Hermione blinked as the words tapered off, her surprise at Romilda's appearance having caused her to go temporarily mute.
She was as beautiful as always, and Hermione couldn't help but compare herself to the woman before her. They had similar curly hair, although Romilda's somehow looked less frizzy and unmanageable, the locks appearing vibrant and shiny. She had less freckles than Hermione did, her teeth were straighter and whiter, and she was taller than her by several inches, which put her on much more even footing with Ron.
She had nice legs too, a fact that was only apparent to her because she was wearing one of Ron's old Christmas sweaters and it made them look a mile long. Hermione had never really considered herself overly concerned with looks, but staring at Romilda now, she could absolutely understand why Ron would find her more appealing. Romilda made her feel a bit like a toothless banshee.
But none of that really floored her quite as much as the fact that she was wearing Ron's Christmas sweater.
Only Ron's Christmas sweater.
There was a roaring in her ears, and she took a step back, running right into the banister behind her and nearly sending herself toppling over it.
Romilda jolted forward to grab her by the arm, her face contorting in concern.
"Hermione, be careful, you could have fallen!" she said before she seemed to pause for a long moment. "Are — are you alright? You look a bit pale."
Pale.
She looked pale? That's the best thing she could say to her right now?
Didn't she know about her and Ron? Didn't she understand how this must have felt for her? Or was she simply dense?
Hermione couldn't really tell, but it didn't matter because things got decidedly worse a second later when Ron, buttoning up his shirt and looking disheveled, came out of his bedroom down the hall.
"Millie, are you done? They're going to notice we're gone soon —"He stopped talking abruptly at the sight of Hermione, and his entire face drained of color. "Hermione."
Was it possible for a heart to stop working simply due to heartbreak? Because it felt like it could. She'd known they were getting on well, but this? This felt quite like he'd gotten over her completely, and she'd been too stubborn to see it. Too petulant to have a conversation that she'd promised George she would have with him. Too heartbroken and pathetic to even begin to move on from what she and Ron had shared.
How stupid that all felt now.
"I think she was looking for you, but she seems ill — Hermione, wait!"
She didn't know if Romilda's concern was genuine or not, and she didn't want to know. The moment the words left her mouth, she'd pushed her away and made a run down the stairs.
She had to get out of here. She'd tell Harry and anyone else who asked that she hadn't been feeling well and had left early. They'd understand —
She gasped when she went careening into someone halfway down the stairs and was steadied by hands on both of her arms.
"Blimey, Granger, you nearly took me — what's wrong?"
Was her life being a Muggle soap opera? How was it possible to run into the very last person she'd have wanted to see her in this state when she was merely trying to get the hell out of there?
George was looking down at her in concern, but his head raised to look back at whoever had been chasing her down the stairs. His gaze looked between a half-dressed Romilda and his clearly disheveled brother before he laughed derisively.
"You just can't help but be a prat, can you?" he said, shaking his head angrily.
"Piss off, George," Ron snarled. "Hermione —"
Hermione wrenched herself from George's grip and made to step around him, but he caught her wrist before she could get away.
It was her anger with Ron that had her whirling to face him, a man who certainly didn't deserve any of her anger at all, and saying, "Let me go, George! I didn't ask for your concern and I don't need it."
There was a momentary flicker of shock across his face, but he obliged, releasing her wrist and holding up his hands in placating.
She didn't care what any of them had to say to that statement and she was careening around the bottom floor banister a moment later, making a mad dash for the front door. She needed to get outside to Apparate, and she wanted to be alone.
She couldn't think like this.
She made a mad dash across the street to the courtyard that the wards no longer covered, but someone grabbed her arm before she could twist to Apparate. She snarled, whirling back around with a scream of frustration.
"George, I said —"
She paused in surprise; it wasn't George at all, but Ron, looking somehow irritated and frightened all at once.
The sight of him standing there somehow made her want to cry, hex him, and hug him all at once.
God, when had it all gotten so complicated?
"Hermione, you weren't supposed to see that."
She couldn't even tell why it surprised her that those were the words that he decided on. He'd always said the stupidest thing possible in the middle of an argument, and she should have expected that he'd care more that she'd seen it than she had that he'd done it at all. Or that she was upset about it.
"That's all you have to say?" she said indignantly. "I come to find you to do cake at Harry's birthday party, find the two of you after — after you've — you've been with her, and you just say that I wasn't supposed to see it?"
"Hermione —"
"Might I suggest that if you didn't want me to see it, you shouldn't have done it in a place that I was also at —"
"I live here," Ron said in irritation.
"You're right, my apologies," she said sarcastically, her eyes burning with humiliated tears. "I really shouldn't be here —"
"Why do you have to make this so difficult, Hermione?" Ron said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I didn't have a choice in this —"
"Difficult?" she shouted incredulously. "You didn't even have the wherewithal to break up with me face to face! You haven't spoken to me in weeks! Two months ago, it was me that you wanted to be paired with, but the moment you were paired with her, you threw me aside as if I meant nothing to you at all! You might not have had a choice in any of this, but you absolutely had a choice in how you treated me after the fact! So, you know what, you're right! I've made this difficult for assuming that I should even have bothered thinking that I meant anything to you at all! That you'd have respected me enough to have a conversation with me before you decided that what we had meant nothing! You've made that perfectly clear now, so problem solved —"
"I didn't know how to tell you," Ron said, looking pained and uncomfortable.
She scoffed derisively.
"Well, it might have been before you reacted to your pairing by espousing that Romilda was the prettiest girl you'd ever seen. Or maybe before you told the entire family you'd set a date for your wedding. Definitely before the two of you started sleeping together and I had to find out at my best friend's birthday party —"
"She's my fiancé," he said defensively.
It was like talking to a doorbell.
"You're right," she said, wiping angrily at the tears that had begun to fall. "So go back to her. It's clearly what you want. There's nothing of our relationship worth holding on to. It's time to move on. I understand loud and clear."
"Hermione —"
She didn't bother waiting for his response. She merely Disapparated with a CRACK.
I just enjoy making things difficult for my characters. The problem really is me, but I'm so ready for Hermione to get over Ron. He's stupid, and George is perfect. The choice here is so obvious. For now, I'm just sighing loudly and shaking my head. Sappy stuff is incoming, I promise!