I am immensely grateful to my beta readers Abradystix and Divagonzo - both brilliant authors in their own rights, and lovely people whose friendship I am so grateful for.
Previously in Waking up
-Ron wakes up the couch and has a short heart to heart with Mum
- Goes to Ministry and has to deal with being famous a bit before he goes to his second appointment with Aarti
-Ron has his second therapy session with Aarti where there are many breakthroughs about how he sees himself and values his personal safety- then he tells her the truth about what happened with the Snatchers
-Afterward Ron pushes himself to see Percy about family reunification for Hermione- the govt will help Ron find Hermione's parents and even help pay for it all
-Exhausted and depleted he cries with relief by himself in a field at the burrow.
- he goes to his room to find Hermione holding his Auror CRE schedule- DUN DUN DUNNNNNN
CHAPTER WARNINGS Intense emotions, depictions of mental illness including ptsd depression, slightly disordered eating, suicidal ideation. Somewhat simple verbal descriptions of physical injuries. Description of evidence of assault
Chapter 10 - The Brown Paper Package
She had spells, plans, and lies all lined up neatly in a row. She'd easily tallied a list of everything she had to do, but doing it was another matter entirely.
She had piles of photos, books, mugs, trophies, paperwork, Christmas ornaments and little school art projects she'd given her parents over the years, all of them needing to be organised and put somewhere. It hadn't been easy finding each reminder of her and ferreting them into her room. Over the weeks she shrank them so every physical sign of her relationship with her parents was small enough to fit in a shoe box.
After she'd packed away the reminders of her existence, she packed away most of her parents' belongings. She started with rooms they wouldn't notice, then finally in one sleepless night packed up the rooms they would notice. The next morning they came down the stairs, confused at why most of their house was in boxes. That was when she struck, casting a series of complex spells on them. She never gave them the chance to interrogate, or inquire.
She justified raising the wand to them, saying that she was saving their lives.
Their eyes went from intelligent and shrewd to gormless. She led them to the sofa and continued her work. In a moment they would wake up thinking they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins. They'd purchase tickets to Australia, oversee a moving truck Hermione had hired a few weeks before, and finalise their bags for the trip before leaving.
From a park bench, just a few doors down from her childhood home, Hermione sat and watched her parents for hours. They were packing the last of their belongings, not realising the majority of the packing had been done by a series of spells the night before.
They didn't realise their names had changed.
They didn't realise they were being uprooted against their will.
They didn't realise they had a daughter.
That evening they drove to the airport. As they drove by, her mother made eye contact for just a moment. Part of Hermione hoped to see a spark of recognition, some acknowledgement that on any level she still knew her little girl. Instead her mother's eyes had slid away as if Hermione was nothing but part of the scenery.
Hermione's eyes stung, but she couldn't cry then— she had things to do. She did a few spells on the house to keep things from being damaged, and did a final check on the belongings she had packed. By the time she was done the streetlights had been on for over an hour.
With one final look to her childhood home, she Apparated to the Burrow.
Molly had taken one look at her and ushered her in without asking any security questions.
"Are you alright dear?"
"Oh yes…" Hermione had been able to say. She wasn't sure how she'd managed to say anything. Her insides felt cavernous and each thought echoed and bounced around until it vanished into nothing.
"Do you need anything to eat?"
She shook her head at the repugnant thought of eating.
"Ron's upstairs. I'm certain he's still awake. Then he can get you situated in Ginny's room," said Mrs Weasley, looking her over with such motherly concern it made Hermione choke. "Do you need help with your bags?"
Hermione shook her head again and numbly ascended the stairs to Ron's room. She knocked and heard his baritone through the door.
"I'll clean my room tomorrow, I swear Mum!"
She opened the door to see him at the desk, scribbling out a letter.
"Merlin! Okay! But let me at least finish writing Hermi—" he said before he saw her. His jaw dropped open by a small margin, then his face lit up. Blue eyes sparkled with fondness and he immediately bolted from his desk. "Hermione? What are you doing here? You didn't say you were coming!"
She couldn't respond. The words she wanted to say kept getting lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. bouncing and dying.
"Shit, are you okay?" he asked, smile fading from his face. "Here, sit down for a second."
He took her by the hands and she followed him, seating herself on his old handmade quilt. His big hands began to rub hers. "You're cold as ice. What happened?"
She shrugged a bit before tears welled in her eyes.
"Hermione wha—"
She launched herself into his arms, tears soaking the front of his shirt and convulsive sobs shook them both. He held her mumbling words of comfort she couldn't make out as he rubbed her back in soothing circles.
He asked again what had happened and this time she told him. He listened intently, never interrupting, as she told him what she'd done.
"I'm a terrible daughter," she sniffled into his chest.
"You're not," he assured her. "You're the reason they're going to survive this war."
"But I—"
"Look. This is a war. And sometimes… sometimes we have to do things we'd normally not do to make sure people are safe. That's what you did."
"I've lied to them, though… About so much…"
Ron nodded. "I know… But that was to protect them too, right?"
"And myself… I couldn't risk them trying to stop me, or pulling me out of Hogwarts… Ron, I've lied for years," she choked out.
"Some day," he began, putting one of his warm hands against her head, "You'll get to tell them the truth. All of it. And we'll be in a better world then."
She hated how good he made her feel. She deserved to feel the self loathing coursing through her. The ache whenever she thought of her parents didn't leave. Despite Ron's comforting that night, she knew she'd ruined her relationship with them forever.
Better to be alive and able to despise the daughter they didn't know existed.
She woke to the sound of heavy feet treading up the stairs. Ginny was somehow able to sleep through the noise, her head buried half in her pillow with a small bit of drool staining her pillowcase.
Hermione undid her usual silencing charm and groaned as she attempted to sit up. No matter how much sleep she got it never felt like enough anymore and her body ached as if she'd swum the English Channel.
There was an odd slam and clatter before she heard Ron's muffled yell of "FUCK!"
Through sleep crusted eyes she found her way to the door and cracked it open, listening as he noisily ran down the stairs rumbling "Fuck-fuck-fuck!"
"Ron? Where are you—" she asked, blinking at him in wonder.
His hair was standing up on one side, his shirt was half tucked into his belt and his shoes were untied.
"Late for a workout," Ron supplied. He paused and looked like he might say more, before he kissed her forehead and ran down the stairs.
A workout… That had been his excuse yesterday. She put on a dressing gown and followed him downstairs. By the time she reached the living room he was gone. The hearth still had the signs of Floo Powder left behind with a faint glimmer of green flames dying down.
He was late for something… But what? He'd said a workout, but that just felt wildly incorrect for him or how he was haphazardly dressed. Where would he even be going to do these supposed 'workouts?'
She'd meant to talk with Ron about his disappearances the day before, but Ron had distracted her. Between news of their celebrity, his hurt over Fred, and their liaisons, for lack of a better word… She blushed at the thought. Yes, that had been quite the distraction… Then the rest of the evening had been so pleasant she hadn't thought to ask where he'd been disappearing.
"Hermione, I'm going out to run some errands. Do you need anything?" asked Mrs Weasley, approaching her, empty basket on her arm.
"No, I'm fine. Thank you," said Hermione, feeling guilty. The woman had lost her son and was barely holding it together, yet there was Hermione intruding on her hospitality.
"Are you alright, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, looking her over with concern.
"Oh yes," she said, not sure how else she could answer.
"Ron told me you know about the papers now. I understand if that is a bit overwhelming. We tried to keep it from you as long as we could, but I suppose it was inevitable."
Hermione put up her hands. "Oh please don't worry about that, Mrs Weasley. I'm fine, really. I'm definitely not feeling the impact of it, yet. It's not like I'm running into anyone here…"
"Thank goodness for that," said Mrs Weasley. "I'll be back late this afternoon, most likely— but there's pies in the cold cabinet for lunch. And there's some rolls if you'd like one for breakfast."
Hermione demurred, distracted by a thought. How had Ron had the opportunity to learn about their newly acquired fame? He hadn't said where he was, he'd just thrown some articles at her.
How had her rather transparent boyfriend suddenly become such a mystery? Well, he was never completely transparent. It had taken her ages to realise he indeed liked her back, but aside from a few misunderstandings, he had always been easy enough to read and know. Ron was straightforward, emotions on his sleeve, and so disarming… It was part of what had drawn her to him even before they were friends. While Harry had been exciting to meet because he was a hero from a book and quite mysterious, there was something undefinably fascinating about Ron. He seemed made to draw attention; bright orange hair, bright blue eyes, a careless enthusiastic grin, a good head taller than most of their year… Then there was his personality; he was passionate, loyal, loved his pet very openly, and had insights on the Wizarding World she'd never be able to get from a book. She did what she could to befriend him that first day — warning him about changing clothes, warning him about the dirt on his nose, talking with his older brother and trying to join any conversation she could with him. He was fun to engage with— unlike other people who ignored her, he talked back every time, even debating her. It had felt they were on the cusp to friendship until she realised he found her obnoxious.
Somehow that had changed after the troll incident. She wasn't sure how or why, but suddenly she was in with Ron. Knowing she had made a friend of Ron Weasley felt special. It made pride swell in her— she'd won him over. Having him in her corner felt different from Harry. While Harry was a good friend, fairly smart, impressive and she wanted to help him— Ron being invested in her felt more fulfilling.
He wasn't half-way with their friendship, he was all in. He'd hook an arm around her shoulder and include her in jokes and make sure she was well and debate her and laugh with her— all in a passing period between class! Even just one of those moments would feel special to a friend-starved Hermione— but here she was inundated with them. She felt so seen, and overjoyed and looked after… She'd never really felt that way with anyone before. And she didn't have to be useful to Ron for him to like her and keep her around… He seemed to enjoy her for her own sake.
The only problem with this was when Ron wasn't in her life it left an aching horrible hole. She went from warmth and comfort to complete alienation. No more jokes. No more smiles. No more debates. No more looking after her. She was on her own. Even when she had Harry they were sort of independent partners— both obviously caring about one another and there for one another— but rarely stepping a toe over the boundaries Ron would carelessly shove out the way.
Since the Battle of Hogwarts she'd noticed a change in Ron. It took time to see it, but she could feel boundaries going up around Ron, distance growing between them, shifts so subtle and undefinable as to drive her mad. She wasn't even sure how she knew it— she just did.
Frustrated, she sat on the couch and picked up the nearest book someone had left open on its face. She hated when people did that; it broke the spine of the book! Not that it mattered with this book- it was beaten up with the spine cracked, pages wrinkled and cover stained.
It took a moment for her to realise it was one of Ron's Defence books from sixth year. What an odd thing for him to be reading. No one else would have been reading it, or would have even known where to find it, as it had been buried under his bed last she saw it.
Something about the book brushed at her mind, pesky as a horse fly at a tea bruncheon.
He'd been reading up about Duelling and nonverbals. She knew he was jumpy and defensive since the war had ended— who wasn't?— but hadn't realised he was so far gone as to study in his free time.
Her mind felt sluggish the moment she attempted to weave the pieces of the Ron mystery together. She indignantly huffed at her ineptitude. She'd piece together what he was up to, and it would start with re-reading this book. Only a few pages in she found herself needing to reread sentences, but it didn't stop her from trying.
A while later Harry came down dressed less casually than usual.
"Where are you off to?" she asked, making him stop short and look at her nervously.
"I'm off to the Ministry. I have to do pre-assessments for the Aurors."
"So you did apply…" she said, a heaviness forming in her chest.
He studied her for a bit. "I did."
There was a challenge in his gaze. A challenge she wasn't sure she could meet.
She thought about the conversation she'd had with Ron about the Aurors. Ron had told her she'd have to accept that Harry was joining. It was something he felt compelled to do, something that made him happy, and it was his choice.
"Well…" Had she ever managed to change Harry's mind? Not really… Persuasion was not one of her strongest suits with anyone, despite how cogent her arguments might be. Harry was a particularly stubborn recipient.
With a long sigh she asked, "what sort of assessments are you doing?"
Harry excitedly described the Healers and Mind Healers he'd have to see what sorts of tests they'd be doing and questions he'd have to answer. Considering that he hadn't done them he seemed awfully familiar with the ins and outs of the process. At least he'd done some research.
"You seem happy about it."
"I am," he confirmed, a rare wide grin on his face.
"Then… Then good luck, Harry."
He gave his thanks before leaving and Hermione curled up on the couch.
Even a few days ago she would have fought him about it, tried to convince him to give up the Auror folly, argued to make him come to his senses and finish his education, wheedled him with the temptation of Ginny and all his friends. She just was so tired. Each day felt like the drag and pull of life was slowly pulling her to bits. The hollowness in her chest grew every day until waking, eating, bathing, brushing her teeth, dressing… They all felt Herculean.
The only thing that seemed to drag her back into enjoying life was Ron. He'd always been that way, able to make her relax and laugh, but recently he was her only tether to fleeting happiness. His kisses, his hands, his observations, his jokes, his smiles… Well, his smiles happened a little less often, but they were still there, anchoring her and making her feel that somehow everything would be okay.
Loneliness permeating every pore, she dragged herself up the stairs. Ginny was in a swimsuit and tying a sarong.
"Hey Hermione," she said with a smile. "Luna's coming over to swim in the pond. Want to come with?"
Hermione shook her head, not wanting to interfere in the friends' plans. She highly doubted either girl actually wanted to spend time with her. "No thanks. I have to do some paperwork."
"You sure?"
"Yes." She was grateful for the look of disappointment Ginny put on her face. "I'll go up to Ron's room so you two can have this one later."
"You look tired. You okay?" Well, that stung. It made sense of course since the tiredness had gone beyond bone deep. She could feel it in her blood cells. "Maybe you should sleep a bit up there?"
"Maybe I'll nap, yes."
So Hermione continued to Ron's room. It was a wreck. His bedside table was lying on its side, drawer and all its contents strewn about the floor. Even his bed had been overturned.
What had he been so late for? Tired and somehow sore all over, she used her wand to flip his bed back into place and slunk under Ron's covers. She could smell him on his pillow— that distinct scent she'd encountered in the Amortentia almost two years prior. That could have been their year, if not for the whole Lavender debacle. The thought of it still made her guts roil. That feeling of losing Ron… It was odd, but she still felt like it now.
Intellectually she knew he clearly cared about her. He showed it with his attentions and looks. It just didn't quite feel like it. And really, it was some miracle he seemed to care so much. All she did was harp and nag… well, and now she slept and avoided meals… She used to at least be good for homework or figuring things out…
She made an irritated gesture and turned over. Useless was what she'd become, and she was far too tired to stop being so. She did a silencing spell on herself in case she screamed in her sleep then closed her eyes for a short nap.
Hours later she opened her eyes to the poster covered ceiling of Ron's bedroom. In one of the posters the Cannons would fly in a v and stop for their picture before dispersing, doing so in an endless loop. After watching them for the twelfth time she sighed and sat up.
"Might as well salvage some of the day…" she muttered to herself as soon as the silencing charm was gone.
She opened the curtains wide and began tidying the room. He surely had made a mess. She started on the outside of the room and worked her way towards the bed and upturned dresser.
Clothes littered the floor. If she hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time with both boys she wouldn't have known whose clothes they were, but she knew very well which shirt sock or boxer belonged to whom. That was, until she got to a navy shirt she'd never seen before, at the end of Ron's bed. In bright white letters the breast read 'Ragged Gnome Pub.' It looked new, which was highly odd as neither Harry nor Ron had anything new in their wardrobe aside from some lightly used trousers and jeans Ron had been given by Bill.
She shrugged before folding and putting it aside with the other clothes.
She groaned as she knelt down to pick up the contents of his bedside table. She picked up the papers without reading them and gathered up the wrappers, used quills and pencil shavings to put in the trash can.
Once the floor was clean she righted the table and began to sort through the papers. Immediately she found her own notes from the day before and set them aside. Ron's papers were a jumble of old report cards, letters, playing cards, magazine articles and a hefty packet. He also had kept a few of her letters from prior years — one had creases that showed the signs of multiple reads, which made her smile.
Then she came across the packet of papers. They had a dark red crest with an A on them. She thumbed the crest knowing it looked familiar. A loose leaf in the packet fell to the floor and she quickly picked it up.
In green ink it read:
COMBAT READINESS EXAMINATION SCHEDULE
For
MR RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY
Numbly she read through the schedule line by line. In his large looped scrawl she saw other appointments quilled in with someone named Aarti; other appointments he had covered up. No, not covered up— straight up lied about. He'd lied to her, tricked her, and avoided her.
Her hands began to shake.
After all they had suffered through, after every intimacy they had shared, he'd not shared something so vital… Why?
It was the unanswered why that made it so hard to process. Why would he keep his future plans from her? It wasn't just his future, but their future being affected by this monumentally awful decision of his. She'd made it quite clear how she felt about the Aurors. They'd barely survived everything, and here he was ready to give up everything for a government that had just been hunting her kind down the past year.
It might be a safer place soon, but she didn't want him in there when it could still be so fraught with unknown dangers.
The fear she had for Harry becoming an Auror was nothing compared to the terror of Ron joining. He was covered in scars from each time he'd thrown himself in front of Harry. He would die for him. And Harry would always be a big target. While Harry had loads of help and body guards of sorts protecting him and putting their lives on the line for him, who was protecting Ron? Harry might try, but he was always moving forward not realising his surroundings like Ron did— while he'd try to survive as he single-mindedly pursued a goal, Ron was making sure everyone else survived. If not Harry she could easily see Ron sacrificing himself for someone else— he'd done as much for her and others too many times.
Why couldn't he stay with her? Stay out of danger and go to school and perhaps, just once, share some normalcy with her?
While she'd be at Hogwarts he'd be doing Merlin-knows-what apart from her for almost nine months.
In the darker recesses of her mind she thought that might be his reasoning for becoming an Auror. Perhaps he wanted a break from her. She'd not been herself. She wasn't useful anymore. She was barely ever fun under normal circumstances, but now any potential fun she could relax into only felt solid enough to grasp when she was drunk or wrapped in Ron's arms. She was unpleasant and sad and useless and too skinny and too unstable and—
She heard footfalls outside the door. She took a breath to steady herself and somehow not cry before the door opened.
Ron looked from her face to the letter and his eyes widened.
"How was your 'workout?'" Hermione managed to say without her voice wobbling.
He silently shrugged.
Unbelievable! She took another breath, determined to keep her cool.
"You didn't say you were going to be joining the Aurors."
"Well, you saw the letter," he said hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper. "And I've always wanted to be an Auror."
"I know that, but…" She searched his face. He was pale with purple smudged under his eyes. He didn't look happy like Harry had. He hulked in the doorway not meeting her eyes. "Do you honestly still want to be fighting and duelling Death Eaters? Didn't you see enough danger already?"
"Hermione, it's a good paying job—"
"It could be the best paying job in the world and I'd feel the same way! I don't want you out there getting cursed at every day!"
"Well what else am I good for?" Ron snapped at her.
"Any other job!" she proclaimed, rising from the bed and marching towards him. "The Ministry is gutted - there are thousands of jobs you could easily take!"
"Maybe I want a job that's harder to earn," he said with a stubborn set to his jaw.
"And isn't the world full of them? Become a Healer! Become a barrister! Become a rocket scientist! Or you could come to Hogwarts with me, and then we can go and work at the Ministry when we know it's safe… Together."
"I'm not leaving Harry," he said, meeting her in the middle of the room, just far enough in that his head barely touched the slanted ceiling. "You know what he's like when he's on a mission— he's always two steps from getting his head blown off, and he already accepted his offer from them. I can't leave him to it."
"Oh I know what Harry's like!" she said, picking up the red Auror handbook and waving it at him. "I got an offer from the Aurors too, you know. Maybe I'll join, since we're all so set on choosing paths of self destruction. If you're off trying to get yourself killed, I'm coming too."
Ron looked at her with incredulity written in every feature.
"You are not becoming an Auror."
"You can't tell me what to do with my life, Ron!" she retorted, not caring how petulant she sounded.
"Are you kidding?" he asked, giving an incredulous look. "You don't want to be an Auror. Hell, you don't even want ME to be one, apparently. You know it'd be a poor fit."
"Oh?" she said, eyebrows raising up into her overgrown fringe. "Why do you think I'm so terribly under qualified to be an Auror, but somehow you and Harry are perfect for it?"
"You're good enough to be whatever you want—" he said with a wave of his hand. "But you're just different from us. You're meant for something different. Plus right now you'd have a lot of trouble passing the CREs - there's loads of physical stuff and flying—"
"Flying," she snorted. "Oh yes, I'm sure Quidditch is very important to the exams"
"It's literally one of the CRE exams! Last I checked you were rather crap at it."
A stupid prideful anger swelled in her.
"I know more spells than you and Harry put together!"
"Well yeah, but—"
"And I duel as well as either of you!"
"You don't duel as well as Harry."
"Fine! Harry might be better, but I can outduel you."
He stayed silent for a moment before he quietly added, "You're slower than me too."
She took a breath. Yes, she was angry at his audacity and the insults, but she was an adult, and was going to handle the situation with diplomacy and decorum befitting the mature individual she was.
"That's it - duel me right now!" she demanded, pointing her wand at his freckled nose.
Ron gave a chest rattling sigh and looked to the ceiling. "I'm not duelling you."
"Afraid I'll beat you?!" she taunted.
"No, I'm afraid I'll hurt you." His voice was so low she strained to hear it.
"I've gotten you loads of times over the years!"
Ron walked away from her unconcerned and picked up the pub shirt she'd laid out on his dresser.
"The only reason you've been able to attack me with birds and hit me so much over the years is because I let you. I never fight back. If you were a bloke, I'd have you on your arse for it."
"I'd like to see you try!" she scoffed.
"Expelliarmus." Ron said before deftly catching her wand.
"That wasn't— We weren't duelling."
"You think Death Eaters will wait for you to bow to one another?"
"Don't you condescend to me! I've been through more fights for my life than you have this past year!" Her face burned with stung pride and her fists shook. "Harry and I were on our own and we had to face all sorts of trouble while you were on your little holiday."
His jaw tightened in annoyance and his face began to flush.
"Little holiday?" he growled.
"While you were eating warm meals at Fleur and Bill's and relaxing by the beach, we were still starving and being attacked by Nagini!"
"I wasn't on some holiday, Hermione!" he said, his voice shaking.
"What? Did Fleur and Bill not serve tea how you like it? Didn't get a chance to play Quidditch? How brutal for you- especially since flying is apparently terribly important for being an Auror"
"You…" he said, closing his eyes. "You really think I'm crap at everything, don't you?"
"What?" she asked, blinking at him, not sure where that was coming from. "Don't be dramatic. Of course I don't—"
"I'm not being dramatic," he said looking out the window. "You're still holding when I left against me— you actually think I was just off having a lark. You can't admit I'm a faster dueller— not better, just faster!— and anything I can do that you can't, like flying, is… is some joke is it?"
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't say that!"
Ron fixed his stare on her, blue eyes two chips of ice boring into her. "You want to hear why you'd be a shit Auror, Hermione?"
"Enlighten me," she scoffed. "I'm sure it'll be really illuminating and not sexist or moronic at all!"
He gave a grin— a terrible grin so unlike his usual warm smile— it was twisted and strange and filled with a mix of hurt and cynicism.
"You are utterly brilliant with knowing spells, but you have shit reflexes. You nearly got hit square in the face like ten times this year, but Harry or I pushed and pulled you out of the way. When you have time to suss something out you're amazing— you saved our arses so many times! But physically you're slower on the draw."
"There's more to it than— "
"I'm not done!" he barked, cheeks red. "You'd argue with a post and can't get along with people so there goes teamwork. You've never been all that athletic, you can't fly, and you've lost so much weight you'd probably faint right now if I made you run laps in the yard. There's no way you'd be able to keep up now. You'd just be the slow one they pick off."
Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears.
Ron swore under his breath as he glanced at his watch.
"I'm sorry," he said, but didn't look it.
"Give me back my wand," she growled.
"I'm sorry… I have to get going. I'll leave your wand down stairs with Harry for when you calm down."
"You can't take my wand like that!"
"I'm sorry," he firmly repeated. "I have to go."
"To what? You don't have another Auror assessment until Sunday! Or are you just running away again?"
He didn't say a word and stared at her. She had crossed some invisible line— she wasn't sure how, but as he looked at her, face slack and resigned she knew she was making everything fall apart.
"Ron, I—"
He dropped her wand on the ground.
"There's your bloody wand," he said, before Apparating away.
The anger that had buoyed her and made her words bite crumbled under his absence. Tears pooled in her eyes until they made hot tracks down her face.
She wasn't even sure why she was crying or why she'd fought with him about something as stupid as her becoming an Auror. She'd latched on to that? Really? When she had a myriad of well reasoned worries she could have told him to convince him to stay with her at Hogwarts! She'd belittled him and mocked him and thrown things in his face… As per usual she couldn't help but ruin everything. She was cruel and wanted to hurt him as much as she hurt.
She wiped at her face until it was dry. If she went downstairs someone would see her. The idea of having to describe why she'd fought with Ron and the terrible things she'd said to him was too overwhelming.
For just an instant she wanted her mum. She wanted to be held and told it would all be okay in a way she hadn't since winter break of her sixth year. She wanted to go home!
She closed her eyes and with a giant Crack! Apparated to her parent's back garden.
She'd forgotten to have the gardens and lawns cared for in her absence. The rhododendrons she'd hidden under as a child were brittle and brown. The grass was overgrown and covered in weeds. The flowers and little planters her mother had faithfully tended were all dead.
Hermione approached the house and put her wand to the door to Alohomora it open when she paused. At the Burrow Fleur had warned her not to go to her parent's house alone. There could be heinous traps and spells of all sorts waiting on the other side of that door.
She could picture the kinds of horrors that waited for her. For a moment she thought of the relief if the spells smashed her to pieces, then she'd not feel that horrible chest constricting darkness and self hate. She could finally stop being such a destructive monster who ruined lives and just do the world a favour.
She jumped away from the doorknob as if burnt.
Scared of her thoughts, she stumbled away from the door until her back was to the high stone wall behind her home. She leant her head back and let the stone cool her.
She'd need help to undo all the spells that might be there. Fleur had offered curse breaker skills the other night.
She just needed to send a Patronus. Every happy memory felt tinged and grey as she flicked through them. Anything connected to her parents made her wilt, and thinking of Ron made her want to cry. School achievements didn't work as those never gave her much happiness. Her friends who barely wanted to spend time with her, and mostly did it out of obligation, was more a sore point than a happy thought.
"Expecto Patronum," she said with a wave of her wand, not concentrating on a particular memory. A silver mist lit faint enough to light the tip of her wand before flickering out.
If she could concentrate just a bit, she could manage it.
"Think!" she commanded herself. Her wand was slick with sweat, and it took a few times regripping her wand to move it correctly.
The joy of a new book. Her wand warmed but that was it.
Being told she was a witch. Only a wisp licked the air.
The night after the troll incident Ron and Harry smiled at her in friendship. An incorporeal cloud faintly surrounded her for a moment before going dim.
She sank down and put her head in her hands. Her mind felt fuzzy and her knees weak. Inexplicably her stomach groaned. When had she eaten last? She supposed dinner the night before, though Ron had been a bit distracted and not forced her to eat much, so she'd mostly pushed the food around on her plate. Ron… She could put aside their fight and concentrate on him…
She thought of everything Ron— his smile as she talked about things, paying attention to her like no one else did. His laughs— he had so many, from throwing his head back and guffawing, to an excited giggle, to a booming laugh that left her ears buzzing. His eyes catching hers across the room, directing her to observe someone then giving her the look plainly saying 'can you believe this arse? Oh we will talk about this later!' And they would.
She thought of their first languid and unrushed kiss, the brush of his hand against her cheek, and that wonderful tender gaze all for her.
She'd been shy and uncertain as she was the one to kiss him first in the Battle. He put his hand up to her cheek and rubbed away a bit of grit there. She expected him to drop his hand, but instead it remained warm and real against her cheek. He stood and beheld her before he leaned down and gently kissed her lips. Tension left her and she was filled with the first calm she'd felt in months.
"I'm glad you're okay," he whispered against her mouth, before putting his forehead against hers.
"Expecto Patronum," she called into the garden. A glowing silver otter burst forth, gambolling around her.
"This is Hermione. I'm at my parents house and could use help with curse breaking. I'm in the back garden," she told the otter before hastily adding her address to the message as well.
The otter twirled up and gently brushed its face against hers before jettisoning off.
She'd done it. She sagged in relief back to the ground.
Not long later Fleur Apparated into the space with a small pop, her light blue summery robes swaying about her.
"Hermione," she said, kneeling down and putting a hand to Hermione's forehead. "Are you well? Did you attempt to go inside?"
Hermione shook her head, unable to speak.
"It will be alright, biguet. I will need a few minutes to do the primary spells. You will stay here, yes?"
Hermione nodded and watched as Fleur did a few spells to keep Muggles from noticing them. After a lot of wand movements Hermione was unfamiliar with, a great blue-white light shot from Fleur's wand before producing a large web of geometric configurations, one line at a time spiralling out in a precise arc. It reminded Hermione of a spirograph she'd played with as a child. At points along the lines little dots of different colours would glow and pulse.
Fleur frowned. "I have some spells to do. But first," Fleur opened up her purse to retrieve a wrapped bit of cloth and a glass of water. "Have you eaten today?"
Hermione shook her head.
"You will eat and drink as I work."
Her tone left no room for argument, so Hermione silently sat and opened the cloth. She felt a bit like a feeble kindergartener being told to sit in the back garden snacking as the adults did the work. The cloth held some grapes and a small bit of cheese and bread. The grapes exploded in her mouth, fresh and juicy. By the time she was done, she felt far less faint than before.
The back door opened, and Hermione could just make out some slanted graffiti erasing itself from the wall as Fleur called her in.
"There are some holes and things to fix, but otherwise, it is now safe," she said, looking about the house with pride.
A few of the ceiling lights were cracked, the walls had a multitude of dents, and several of the balusters and posts on the stairs were broken.
"I- I don't…" Hermione stammered. "I don't know how to thank you, Fleur."
"De rien," she warmly replied. "I don't like that you came on your own, though! Why have you not brought your friends or your Ron?"
Hermione bit her lip and shrugged. "I wasn't thinking."
"Are you going to stay here or go back to The Burrow?"
"I'll tidy here, then go back," Hermione said, eyeing the marks on the floor and little pieces of plaster.
"Then before I go, I have something for you to deliver to Ron," said Fleur, unshrinking a carefully wrapped brown paper package from her purse. She placed it in Hermione's hands. It was soft and not terribly heavy, like it held clothing or a blanket.
"What is it?"
"I kept Ron's clothes from when he came to us in case he needed it for evidence. There is a stasis charm on it even if you take it out of the bag, so everything is conserved… Attendre. Est-ce préserver ou conserver? Ah! It's preserved. I didn't bring it the other night as it was so crowded. I didn't want to upset anyone, especially Molly."
Hermione could clearly remember what Ron wore the night Bellatrix tortured her. She'd buried her face in the striped shirt as he carried her, she'd seen him dig Dobby's grave in it.
"This can't be from the night we came to you. I've seen him wear it since then," Hermione replied, confused as she gave the package a squeeze.
"No, from the first time he visited— last winter."
From what Ron had told them, she highly doubted there would be much evidence on the clothing. He'd only been held a moment or so by the Snatchers. Maybe there were some hairs or trace magical evidence she was unaware of? It wasn't an area of magic she knew much about. She told as much to Fleur, whose face slowly turned to shock.
"Then… Then he has not told you?"
"Told me what?" Hermione asked, realising her palms were a bit sweaty still.
"He has not told you about the Snatchers?"
"Oh that— yes he told us about it," said Hermione, a bit impatiently wiping her hands on her pyjama trousers.
"Hermione," Fleur said slowly, "what did he tell you about the Snatchers?"
"Erm… He said they were a 'pathetic' gang that jumped him because he looked school age. He tricked them by saying he was Stan Shunpike. They had a fight and he wrestled his wand away from one of them before Apparating away. He splinched two fingers a bit, but that was it," she reported.
Fleur was still standing absolutely still, a small line forming above her eyebrows.
"He left out some things," Fleur said, handing the package to Hermione. "It would be best to talk to him, but that is not how it looked. Not at all."
Prickles of worry scratched at the back of her skull as she stared at the brown package. What was Ron hiding?
"Will the preserving charm still work when the package is opened?"
"Yes," answered Fleur.
Hermione quickly unwrapped the paper, aware of Fleur stiffly watching her. The textures of the clothes felt like they were behind a slick layer of plastic, though there was no visual evidence of it. They were caked in mud, with a bit of a purpley-brown colour spotting the front and one of the sleeves. Filthy, but nothing all that remarkable.
Surprisingly through the spell she could smell it — that very Ron scent that clung to everything he owned, the smell of mud and earth, the tang of sweat and then another scent she'd grown to recognize. Blood.
For the briefest moment she hesitated, dread making her hands stiff.
She turned the clothing over and let out a gasp. A deep wine colour stained them all over. The shirt and sweater had long gashes down it and even his belt was in two pieces.
"What happened?" Hermione breathed out, barely above a whisper. "What did they do to him?"
"I only know his injuries. He didn't say what happened."
Hermione shook her head staring at the stains.
"He never told us…" she whimpered, eyes stinging with tears. "He'd… he'd joked about it!"
She'd been awful to him when he returned. She'd been so cruel and had mocked him and she'd done so again today.
Fleur's lips thinned. "I'm sorry you have to learn of it like this"
"Ron, you liar…." Hermione held back burgeoning sobs. "Fleur… Tell me what happened."
"If Ron has not—"
"Fleur! He's been lying about it and covering it up to both Harry and I."
"I don't know…"
"There's more to this and we can't help him if we don't know anything!" Hermione entreated. "Please."
"What do you want me to tell you?"
"I need you to tell me everything. From the moment he arrived," she insisted.
"That afternoon I saw him Apparate onto the beach and trip towards the house— I didn't recognize him at first. He was so bruised and bloody." Fleur shook her head. "He looked so frightening I nearly cursed him, but Bill recognized him, somehow. Sometimes I think the bit of werewolf in him can smell the difference in people."
The small snack Fleur had given Hermione churned in her stomach. How bad did it have to be for Fleur to not recognize Ron, one of the most singular looking people Hermione had ever known. You could recognize him from a thousand meters away with his lanky frame, wide shoulders and red hair. She put a hand to her mouth.
"It took days to heal him. We were able to set his bones and keep him from having much scarring, except his fingers of course— there was nothing we could do for the Splinching except close the wound."
"Did he say anything?"
"Non, he did not tell us much. He was more concerned with getting well so he could find you and Harry."
"What do you think they did to him?"
"It looked like he was beaten and tortured. There were many bruises and cuts. He had broken fingers, ribs, a broken skull, and his back had been cut into ribbons. It took five days for him to recover. It could have been shorter, but it was hard to make him stay in bed for healing once he could walk again."
Hermione felt her whole spirit stretched tight, like a fishing line about to snap. "And after his recovery?"
"He was rarely at Shell Cottage. He went out every day, Apparating all over to find you, then staying up late listening to the radio for signs of you. He had a map where he marked where he visited- it was covered in hundreds of x-marks. He would barely talk or eat or sleep. Then one night he was gone, and we had to hope it was because he'd found you and not that he'd been captured. The next we saw him, you were in his arms."
A shuddering breath left Hermione.
"I need… I need to find Ron," Hermione said faintly, holding the clothes to her chest.
Fleur nodded. "Know he is healed now. Whatever happened, he is fine now."
Hermione shook her head. He wasn't fine. He wasn't at all!
"I need to go."
"Let us put the clothes back in the bag, though. If no one knows, I don't want them finding out by seeing this."
Hermione attempted it, but her hands shook so hard Fleur took over.
"Here, I will Apparate us back to The Burrow."
She numbly accepted the aid, and felt her body squeeze and shift through space. They landed in the Weasley's little field outside the garden.
"Thank you, Fleur, for everything," Hermione said, giving her a fleeting squeeze of the arm before running towards the house.
"Ron?" she called into the slanted home.
She heard noises up the stairs and quickly ascended them.
She ran up the stairs and heard a 'shhh!' come from Ginny's room before a giggle came through the door.
Hermione quickly rapped her knuckle on the door.
"Have you seen Ron?" she called through the door, voice high.
A moment later Ginny opened the door a crack. Her hair was mussed and her face was decidedly pink. She looked in the hallway behind Hermione before opening the door all the way. A red-faced Harry was standing next to the bed and hastily buckling his belt.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, looking away before addressing the ceiling. "I'm looking for Ron… Have you seen him?"
"No, what's wrong?" Harry asked, coming to the door.
Hermione hesitated, holding the package to her chest. He hadn't told her or Harry the truth. He'd not told anyone. Only Fleur and Bill knew, because they'd seen the wounds. Even then, they didn't know what had happened, only that he was hurt.
She'd already caused him such pain, she couldn't reveal his secrets on top of that. Not yet, at least. Not until she's spoken with him.
"It's nothing…" she lied, looking down. "I, erm, went to my parents. Fleur helped me check for spells and get rid of the graffiti."
"Oh, Hermione," Ginny said, all compassion. "Why didn't you say? We would've come with you!"
"It's fine," she assured them, knowing she didn't look it. She could feel the sting in her eyes and was still in her pyjamas though it was late in the afternoon.
"You sure?" Harry asked. "Was the house—"
"I'm fine. The house is mostly okay, and I'm fine— I just… it was a lot and I wanted Ron and—"
"Of course you do," Ginny said looking at Harry, the pair silently communicating something between them. That was new. "I don't know where he is, though."
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Harry assured her, looking at Ginny again.
"He doesn't have any Auror appointments today, so I don't know where he could be," Hermione added.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "He's told you he's joining?"
"We discussed it earlier," she said, not wanting to divulge the horrid fight they'd had.
"That's a relief. It was miserable trying to hide it," he said with a barely contained smile of excitement. "He didn't want to say anything until it was a 'sure thing' or whatever. Guess yesterday's exam finally got through to him. It sounded like he did really well— hard to tell with how he talks about himself sometimes, but he beat a really top dueller."
Hermione did not feel fully in her body. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she swore the smell of Ron's torture still stung her nostrils.
"We'll be taking two of the exams together Sunday and Monday, so this weekend will be full up," said Harry with a shrug.
"Harry passed his initial assessments," she said, giving him a grin. "We're heading into the village to meet Luna for dinner soon, since Auror exams are taking over the rest of the weekend. Want to come?"
Hermione bit her lip. The past week Ron had been out far more than his Auror schedule required. Given how upset he was, it was unlikely he'd return any time soon. Sitting home feeling miserable wouldn't bring him to her faster, and being alone with her thoughts made fear scratch at her skull again.
"Yes, I'll come along." The paper wrapped clothing crinkled in her hands. "I haven't really dressed for today. Is it alright if I—"
Ginny stood aside for Hermione to have the room to herself. "Yeah— we'll be downstairs. See you in thirty?"
She vacantly nodded as they left and sat on her bed holding the paper package so hard her finger tore through the edges. She carefully undid the brown paper and unfolded his clothes. She stared at the purpled bloodstains until they went fuzzy and shapeless, and the mix of loathing and anxiety became a familiar numbness.
"Hermione?" she heard Ginny's voice through the door.
"Hmm?"
"It's been thirty minutes. You still coming?"
She looked in the mirror. She was still in a sweaty oversized shirt and dirt smudged pyjama trousers, while her hair was still greasy and in need of a wash.
"Yes! Sorry, yes… One moment!"
She did a quick refreshing charm on her hair and underarms, though it didn't do much, and quickly yanked on some clothes she hadn't sweated through. Though strapped for time, she still carefully hid Ron's clothes from sight deep in her beaded bag before joining Harry and Ginny.
The trio left for the village, Ginny and Harry excitedly chattering about Auror tests as Hermione lagged behind, the phantom feeling of the brown paper still on her fingers.
It wasn't a long walk and soon they were in the quaint village of Ottery St Catchpole. It was much like the Burrow, with nothing having truly straight lines, and a very homey feel to it.
"Luna should be somewheeere around here," said Ginny, rising on her tiptoes as she looked around the cobblestoned street. Her nose and shoulders were looking more freckled than usual. "Ah, there!"
Either the locals were familiar enough with unusual people, or they just didn't care— because none of the Muggles seemed to notice Luna's colourful and very witchy outfit with rainbow macramed bat shawl and pointed polka dot hat and boots.
"Hey Luna!" Harry said, exchanging an amused look with Ginny.
"Hello everyone," she said, face pink with sunburn. "I had a reaction to the plimpies in your pond, Ginny. My face went all pink once I got home."
"I think you have sunburn," Hermione stated.
"No, it was a reaction," she said with Plácida certainty. "This always happens when I interact with plimpies at the Weasleys' in the summer."
"Then it's obviously—"
"Have you tried aloe vera?" Ginny interrupted. "I find that helps with reactions like that."
"I haven't! I tried gurdyroot paste, but so far it's not helped. Perhaps it's a seasonal thing."
Irritated, Hermione followed the friends, Harry folding in beside her.
"Luna's in fine form," he said, poking an elbow into Hermione's side. "Too bad Ron's not here. He'd think this is hilarious."
She grimaced at the mention of her absent boyfriend.
"He'll be back at home soon enough," Harry said, plainly reading her face.
"Oh well if you say so," she bit out, rather acidly. "We don't even know where he's been disappearing to!"
"Well, there's been the Aurors—"
"And what? He's been disappearing more than the Auror schedule! What has him so occupied?"
Harry's lips thinned as he thought. "Well, there's the Auror stuff, then his Mind Healer Aarti."
"He has a Mind Healer? Is that basically ther—"
"A therapist— yeah. We have to see them to pass the mental health screening. He's been going more to her."
"But what about today?" Hermione asked, thinking of her fight with Ron. "He had Aarti on his schedule earlier today, but then he left almost as soon as he got back."
"He was late getting in the other nights," Harry added. "Said he needed to think and get a breather from everything."
From her. He needed a breather from her.
"That's all he said?" Hermione asked, hoping for a sign that there was anything else.
Harry's lips pressed further together. "No… He smelled a bit like a tavern, to be honest, but he wasn't drunk that I could tell. I asked him if he was pulling a George on us and he threw a strop, so I don't think it's anything like that."
"Perhaps he's seeing George. He did that a bit before the whole bar scene."
"Would he really want to see him after everything?"
"Probably not," Hermione said, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Ron had been through so much, and she hadn't helped a lick. Instead she'd made his life infinitely more unpleasant. He probably wanted to avoid her as much as George now.
Ginny approached them carefully, looking between their serious expressions. "Luna and I are going to check out the menu at the new bistro."
She seemed to realise they needed privacy because she added, "Why don't you look at the pub's fare and we meet in the square to decide where to go?"
"Thanks," said Harry, giving her hand a squeeze. He continued watching Ginny well after she'd turned the corner.
Hermione gave a knowing smile. "You look happy."
"Yeah…" he said with a besotted smile. He looked down at his shoes, but was still smiling. "She's just really good at knowing what I need… I want to do the same for her, and I'm probably shit at it, but—"
"No, I think you two tend to read one another well." It was rare for Harry to be so open about things. She would have been quite pleased with this turn of the conversation if it didn't rub in how poorly she handled Ron. "I'm happy for you."
"I'm happy for you too. I mean, you and Ron. Finally!"
She rolled her eyes. "Let's find the pub so we can check out the menu."
Harry, who was now a great deal taller than Hermione, was able to spot it over the locals' heads.
The old iron sign hanging above it was so corroded and rusty it was unreadable, but it was clearly a pub given the large distinguished bar just visible through the window pane. It looked a merry place with a few televisions and a great deal of telephones all along the side wall.
"Oh! This must be the one Ron called me from!" said Hermione, pointing out the phones. "We practised phone calls and he'd call me from there every week."
"When was this?" Harry asked, clearly amused.
"Starting the summer between third and fourth year. He did it every summer after that."
"How come I never heard about this?" said Harry, a sly look on his face.
"We didn't want to make you jealous, since you couldn't get calls with the Dursleys about," she said, not sure why it felt embarrassing to talk about it. It had been private and a lovely little connection between them. She'd suggested it as a way for him to 'practise phone calls,' but really it had just been an excuse to talk to Ron. He'd called two or three times a week, while still writing to her the same amount. It had been quite lovely, really.
"Very thoughtful of you," Harry teased.
Hermione made a show of looking at the menu on the side of the building, finger tracing each dish. "Well, everything here is going to be greasy."
"With a name like 'The Ragged Gnome Pub' it should be."
Hermione's finger stuck in place on the fisherman's pie description and she let out a gasp.
"What?" he asked.
"Ron!" she proclaimed. "That's the name of the pub on his shirt!"
"Shirt?"
"There was a shirt I didn't recognize in your room— It had this pub name on the breast of it! It's a new shirt. Neither of you have new shirts I don't know about! All except this one!" she said pointing to the name at the top of the menu.
"So he's been here!" Harry smiled.
"Yes!" she said excitedly, about to push through the glass paned door when Harry put a staying hand on her arm. "What?"
He pointed a finger.
A pair of wooden doors had just swung open and out came Ron, a large plastic bin in his hands. He wore the 'Ragged Gnome' shirt, an apron and oversized plastic gloves.
He looked exhausted. The deep purple smudges under his eyes stood out and his pace was plodding as he fulfilled his duties.
The two friends stood stock still as he went about his mundane tasks, neither able to say anything.
Ron avoided brushing with customers as he picked up dirty dishes and pushed them into the bin before wiping each table down. Once his bin had a precarious stack of dishes and beer glasses he disappeared into the back again.
"Well, now we know where he's been going," Harry quietly muttered. "He's a dishwasher here."
"But… But why keep it a secret?" Hermione asked.
"He's always been private about money stuff." His forehead puckered. "We should get out of here."
Part of Hermione wanted to march into the pub to apologise about her fight, tell him she knew about the Snatchers and the pub and just get every single thing out in the open! But Harry was right. Ron had always been private about money.
"If he didn't tell us, then I suppose he wants to keep it secret for a reason," she said. "Though I can't think why he'd want to hide it! It's admirable for him to get a job so soon after everything."
It was far more than Hermione had done.
"Maybe he's embarrassed or something," Harry said with a shrug. "Though… He's been working a lot here."
"And at home," Hermione supplied.
"And with the Aurors." The two friends looked at each other grimly. "What do we do? Try to stop him?"
"I—" Hermione swallowed. "I don't know… He's obviously overdoing it, but at the same time I want to honour his privacy and his decisions."
'Oh, now you want to honour his decisions? What a hypocrite,' Hermione thought to herself.
A man came through the pub doors, fish and chips loosely wrapped in brown paper that crinkled as he walked around them.
Hermione flinched.
"Right. We'd best keep Ginny and Luna away from here then," said Harry. She could just see Harry take a few steps away in her peripheral vision, before pausing. "Hermione?"
She stiffly followed him until they were out of sight from the pub.
"What do we do though?" she asked, thinking of purple stains and slashed clothes. She crossed her arms tight. "We can't tell him we know… That we know everything… Can we?"
"I mean, it'll sort itself out soon, right?" Harry said, glancing back to the pub.
"But… but what if this is all too much for him? Is honouring his privacy worth it if he's going to run himself into the ground? It's not good for him to lie and not tell anyone!"
Harry rubbed at his chin. "I'm not sure… With the Aurors he won't be able to keep this up for long. He'll have to quit eventually."
"Or eventually he could break!"
Harry's hand briefly clenched in front of his chest, right where the locket had scarred him. She was certain he was thinking back to when Ron left them. "Okay… Okay. We'll come up with something. Talk to him soon… But I don't think a big confrontation is going to help it. He's already stretched thin."
She let out a thin laugh. "Right… Wouldn't want to make things worse with a confrontation." She crossed her arms tighter around her body.
"For now," he said, giving her a wary look. "We'll help him with the house stuff, help him prepare for Aurors assessments, and give him his privacy on this. If we ease his pressures in the other stuff, then this won't be so bad, right?"
Before she could answer their names were called across the square. Ginny and Luna waved at them.
Harry gave a brief wave back with a plastered on smile, as he asked in a low voice, "You okay?"
"I wish people would stop asking me that," Hermione groaned.
"It'll be okay," he said before meeting Ginny and Luna. "Pub fare looks a bit greasy for us. How's the bistro looking?"
They ate sandwiches and soup at the little bistro that looked more like someone's cottage turned restaurant. The bread on the table was good, the salad and soup enticing enough that even Hermione couldn't say no, and then full hearty sandwiches came in brown paper. Hermione moved her sandwich around as the other three ate and spoke of Luna's house renovations, Harry's assessments and Ginny's ideas for meet-ups the rest of the summer.
Her eyes kept darting from the brown paper to the pub.
"I'm going to check out that pub," she said suddenly, standing from the table.
Harry gave her a piercing look. "Are you sure? We're just about to head home."
"Yes," she said with certainty, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she passed him.
Harry began to stand. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No… No, I think I have this."
She walked with purpose for the first time in weeks.
In only a few minutes she was in front of the pub. The glass paned door swung in with a gentle push, and the smell of beer and chips hit her as well as the merry sound of footballers and the telly.
A weedy man with a scant moustache greeted her.
"Hello Miss, welcome to The Ragged Gnome. Will it be one this evening? And bar or table?"
"I need to speak with your dishwasher."
"Wha? Ron?" he said, eyeing her up and down. "Erm, well I can go get him for—"
"I'll only be a moment," she said, marching past him towards the doors she'd seen Ron disappear behind.
"Wait, you can't just—"
She ignored him and pushed through the double doors. There was a small hole in the wall for dish bins to pass through, then another door past that to the dish room. She pushed through that too and found Ron. His back was to her, and his red hair was dark at the nape of his neck with sweat. He was scraping food from plates into the garbage before spraying down dishes. He made a noise looking into a glass before his hand went to his wand that was sticking out of his back pocket, he did a surreptitious look around him when he spotted Hermione.
The glass slipped out of his gloved hand and crashed on the floor.
"Hermione!"
He took out his wand and fixed the glass, just as the tweedy man came through the door.
"Ron, this'n just barged back here! We're not allowed people back here. Liability stuff and Eckles will have our heads!"
"Sorry, Paul. I'll take my break now. Be back in fifteen," Ron said, putting the glass he'd just magicked back together into the sink.
"Wait… Did you hear a glass break?"
"No," Ron and Hermione said at the same time. Ron's mouth twitched but didn't actually smile.
Ron held open the door and Hermione followed him out the back to a narrow alleyway. He put his hands in his pockets and stared at her.
"How'd you find me?"
"Harry and I saw you through the window. We were going to dinner with Ginny and Luna."
"Did they—"
"No one else knows but Harry and I. We had dinner at the bistro down the street."
"Mm-hm," he said thoughtfully. "Did you eat?"
She felt herself prickle a bit at the question, but she willed her feelings to hide away. "Yes."
"Good." He looked down at his trainers. The bottoms of his trousers looked sodden as well as the worn shoes.
"Here, let me dry your shoes and do an Impervio on them so you stay dry."
She pulled out her wand but his much larger hand stayed her movements. His long fingers curved around her small wrist and slowly pushed her hand to the side.
"Why'd you come?"
His face was very still and held little expression, which made Hermione's stomach roil with uncertainty.
She thought of the brown paper and his clothes. She thought of him coming to her in the dead of winter joking about stinking Snatchers and her fists flying at him. She thought of the weeks she'd held a grudge and barely looked at him if not to send a pointed barb his way. She thought of the hurt on his face as she aimed every ounce of vitriol at him time and time again.
"I came to apologise."
It was almost insulting how his mouth gaped open.
"I was… I was unfair to you about things and lost my temper and I'm… I'm so sorry, Ron."
He looked confused but the way his shoulders dropped ever so slightly made it clear he felt relief.
"Okay," he croaked.
Her fingers twisted into the hem of her shirt before she asked, "are you sure you want to be an Auror?"
"Yes…" he said with a dubious look on his face.
"Then I'll support you," she said with as much certainty as she could. "I'm still worried about you being an Auror. No matter how good you are, it won't guarantee you're safe! The Ministry is weak and there are loads of dark wizards on the loose and - and I don't want you to be a hero stepping in front of spells for people! I want you to be selfish and always come back to me… because you mean… you mean so much to me and even the thought of—" she burst into sobs. In seconds long arms were around her, holding her tight. He smelled like beer and dishwasher detergent, but also Ron.
"Hey," he said into her hair. "Hey, I'm gonna be okay!"
She sobbed harder. "You d-don't know! You can't know!"
He kissed the top of her head. "I do know."
Her hiccuping sobs slowed just a bit as she looked up at him in confusion.
"H-how?"
"Because," he said, brushing tears from her cheeks and holding her shaking jaw with both hands. "I'll always come back to you. No matter what."
If he thought saying something like that would make her sobbing stop she quickly dispelled the thought by crying even harder. She cried until her voice grated, her body could barely keep upright and there was so much mucus she thought she might choke. She cried for every hurt he'd endured without her, and every bit of pain she'd increased.
"I'm so sorry…" she finally rasped. "I'm so sorry for everything!"
"I was an arse about things too," he said, voice tight. "I shouldn't have kept this from you. Even bloody Harry thought so, and he's got the emotional insight of a dung beetle."
She gave a sloppy, messy wet snort.
"Look," he said, hand coiling into her hair, "if you wanna be an Auror too, I won't try to stop—"
"Of course I don't. I was just being prideful about the hypothetical."
"Thank fuck," he breathed out before looking at her with alarm. "But you could do it! Like, not right now, but you could."
"It's fine… I truly do not want to be an Auror, and you were right about me not being in good enough shape to do it now. I know I'm a mess," she said, taking a step back and gesturing at herself.
"I'm a bit of a mess too. I've been… I'm so tired, Hermione," he said, letting his head hang.
"Me too."
They both wanly laughed.
"When do you get off?" she asked.
"You got me off pretty well yesterday afternoon."
He laughed as she gave his chest a small swat and looked around her to make sure they were alone.
"Off from work!" she laughed, strangling his forearm.
"Round eleven, depending on the crowd tonight."
Waiting over four hours sounded like torture. Having to do it sitting in the living room where anyone could push her to talk probably was a form of torture.
"If it's okay, I'd like to stay in your room tonight," she said.
"That's always okay," he replied with a smile that made a warmth pass through her. "Harry though—"
"He can find his own sleeping arrangements."
Ron made a face as he realised what those arrangements would be.
"You and me. In bed," she reminded him.
He slowly grinned at her, a small flush touching his cheeks.
"Get out of here quickly so you can come back to me."
"Alright," he said, holding her to him. "My break's nearly over."
She reluctantly stepped back from him, her fingers trailing his taut sides. Even tired, sweaty and in a grubby apron stained with beer-water, she couldn't help but think how grown and handsome he was. She did a quick drying spell and Impervious on his jeans.
"Thanks," he said before going to the old wooden door.
"See you in your room!"
"Kay! Love you!" he called, slipping inside before she could formulate a response.
A tremulous breath left her. He loved her! Her. And he'd said it with no hesitation, no build up or nerves— just… said it! As casually as a goodbye! As if he'd said it a hundred times before!
"I love you, Ron Weasley," she said to the empty alley.
[END OF CHAPTER 10]
Author's note: Thank you so much to all of you who review- you have no idea how motivating it is. Y'all are the best. If you enjoyed this I hope you'll take the time to leave a comment. :) thanks!