Okay, guys, this is it. I promise Hermione gets way less annoying starting this chapter. It won't be smooth sailing obviously, but last chapter was intended to be an eye-opener for her, so hopefully we want to rip our hair out a little less when she holds onto a relationship that just didnt work. Aaaand the next chapter is super cute, so screaming excitedly!
NanHackett: Ahhhh, thank you for reviewing! I actually really don't want anyone to hate Ron at this point. I think originally going into this that's what I expected to happen (and in the beginning it definitely worked out that way), but the more I flesh out the character development and the chapters, I feel like I hate Hermione more than Ron, hahaha. If that makes sense? I think at this juncture the real intention is to show Hermione as flawed in her thinking. Moving on from a relationship is hard, but she's really digging in more due to stubborness than an actual desire for that relationship if that makes sense? In the beginning of the story, she wasn't even happy with Ron, and yet she's still holding on to this idea of him that just no longer exists. I think Ron was much easier to hate in the very beginning when he was just such an ass for ignoring her feelings and boundaries, but at this point, you're totally right! He isn't technichally doing anything wrong by moving on with Romilda. I, of course, like the added drama in Hermione's life, but I also like that the last chapter kind of puts into place just how difficult this situation is for everyone involved. You've got George, who's in the middle of this situation he didn't ask to be in and isn't totally sure how to help. You've got Romilda, who probably feels the same way. You've got Ron, who definitely should have had a conversation with Hermione face to face, but overall is just complying with the law and accepting that his relationship with Hermione didn't work and letting it go. And then Hermione who just can't let go and is putting Ron (and George) in difficult positions because of it, and really needs a push in the right direction (i.e. George). It really just is a horrible place to be in for all of them and the intention there is definitely just to feel bad for everyone involved. Because I don't know how a single person could react in a way that would be considered correct in this situation. It's all just a mess to be thrown into and every choice someone makes at this point could be both right and wrong at the same time. I hope all of that makes sense?
Also, yes, the secret is just everything that happened at the Manor. She doesn't have another secret, haha!
Chapter Twelve
Avoiding people was much more difficult in a household that was constantly teeming with them.
A braver person wouldn't have bothered attempting to, but Hermione was beginning to find that her bravery had been maxed out; maybe after Malfoy Manor…maybe after they'd gotten stuck in Devil's Snare, and she'd merely faked it for six more years after that.
It was hard to tell now, but she did her very best to avoid everyone for several days after Harry's birthday party in an attempt to make sense of her feelings.
Ginny had come up to see her several hours after she'd stormed off. Hermione was thankful that by that point the tears had stopped and she'd moved toward emotional numbness, but Ginny hadn't cared. She'd set a slice of birthday cake on Hermione's nightstand and then laid down next to her without saying much of anything.
After looking at each other in silence for several minutes, in which Hermione refused to say a word about what had happened, Ginny had finally spoken.
"I told Harry you weren't feeling well," she said without preamble. "I didn't know if you wanted me to say anything. Well, that, and I was afraid he might hex Ron in the middle of the party…"
She didn't care what they'd told Harry, but she was sure she'd appreciate that forethought later when her emotions came back to her, as well as her cognitive processes. She didn't want to make Harry's life more difficult by putting a rift between him and Ron. Not that that was a particularly easy thing to do — the two of them were practically inseparable.
"Thank you," she said only because she knew Ginny was wanting to hear her say something. Her voice was hoarse from crying. "Did Ron tell you —?"
"George did," she said with a heavy sigh. "He was glaring daggers at Ron for a few hours and I couldn't find you, so I made him tell me." She paused for a long moment before she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
It wasn't the words as much as the pity she could see on her face that nearly sent her into tears again. It was wildly unfathomable how she'd gotten here, to this very moment. Was it her fault? Was it the Ministry's? Was it Ron's?
Maybe it was all three. She couldn't think through the current pain she felt, and having Ginny look at her like she wasn't sure if she was going to break into a million pieces didn't make it much easier.
"What for? Everyone else knew it was over between us before I did," she said dully. "It's my own fault."
And maybe that's what she was most upset about — her pride was hurt. She'd expected her life after the war to be smooth-sailing: she'd work for five years, marry Ron in a small ceremony, work for a few more years, have two kids, retire, die after being happily married to her best friend for sixty years.
That had been the plan. And now it was all going up in flames around her.
A marriage law had come and shaken the already teetering ground that she and Ron had been trying to build a foundation on. Then he'd been paired with someone else, and didn't even care about that fact. Now he was…moving on. She'd been holding out hope to return to that life — that thing that she'd so comfortably planned out for herself that left about zero to chance (as she preferred) — and he'd let it go.
She couldn't decide if she hated him more for letting it all go so easily or hated herself more for trying to hold onto it for so long, despite how horrible it had felt to do so. Holding on for too long was the reason that she was even in this position to begin with, and she wasn't even sure why she wanted that old life back.
Hadn't she been the one wondering if she and Ron were ever going to be as grounded as Harry and Ginny? Hadn't she been the one frustrated that Ron didn't respect her boundaries? Hadn't she been the one frustrated with their relationship?
How could all of those things be true at the same time that she wanted to desperately keep hold of him? Was she so afraid of change, so comfortable in their routine, that she was ignoring the toxicity of their dynamic?
She couldn't even tell anymore why she was being so stubborn about the entire thing.
God, her head hurt. Her heart hurt. She wished she could stop thinking altogether at this point.
Ginny sighed heavily, pulling her out of her morose thoughts.
"You still deserved better than to find out like that," she said firmly. "You deserve better, period."
"I don't think you should be saying that about your brother."
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"I'll say whatever I like if Ron is going to act like a prat," she said before hesitating. "Besides, I think you both deserve better. It probably isn't what you want to hear right now, but the two of you never would have loved each other in the way you each needed. I love you both, and I want you both to be happy, but he's still a prat for how he handled things."
Maybe.
The entire thing was such a mess in her head that she hadn't been able to say much else. Ginny had laid there with her for at least an hour before she'd had to go back to the party, sure that someone would notice her absence. Hermione hadn't said anything as she'd left, merely staring into space in silence, trying to make sense of her muddled thoughts.
In the days that followed, she'd owled the twins and told them she wasn't feeling well enough to come in. Cowardly, perhaps, but she'd not been able to face them so soon, particularly George, who had merely been trying to help when she'd snapped his head off. She didn't exactly know what to say or do now. If it had been Ron, she'd have ignored him until the argument was forgotten without an apology — that was their usual pattern — but George didn't seem the type.
And she wasn't just saying that because he'd attempted to come talk to her at Sunday dinner, when she'd been hiding herself away in her room in an attempt to avoid seeing Ron and Romilda. It had only been the day after Harry's birthday party, and she'd felt a bit better by then, but it felt a bit dangerous to see them together so soon.
As it was, she had a lot of time to think by the time Wednesday rolled around. She'd tried to distract herself by translating legal jargon she didn't understand in the documents Kingsley had given her, but it had just made her head hurt and got her too distracted to really focus. After the fourth time that she'd found herself thinking about how awkward it had been to see Romilda coming out of the bathroom, she'd decided that the documents just weren't worth her sanity.
She'd spent the rest of her time reading or pacing back and forth, wearing a hole into the wooden floors while she tried to think about what she was really so upset about.
She didn't feel like she was…feeling things properly?
Maybe that wasn't quite the way to describe it, but she'd expected to be more…jealous, more enraged, more heartbroken. And sure, she was a bit of all of those things, but she couldn't quite pinpoint if it was because of Ron or if it was because her perfectly planned life had been uprooted.
What did that mean? Did it mean that she hadn't loved Ron at all? No, that couldn't be it. She felt like she had, though maybe not in the way either of them needed. But she almost didn't really care that he'd slept with Romilda…only that he hadn't had the decency to speak to her about their relationship first.
She'd avoided the conversation with him herself, so perhaps it was a tad hypocritical of her to be upset about that, but she'd not gone nearly so far in her own relationship — if she could even call it that — as Ron had with his.
Most of her rage and sadness stemmed from her belief that she'd deserved more than just a few angry comments and tense silence. She felt like their friendship had meant more, that it should have come first, even before Ron's hurt pride.
And that was all so confusing because…because she should have been upset that he was happy with someone else. She should have been upset that he had so easily moved on from her in the span of two months since she'd graduated. She should have been upset that he was moving on, while she was stuck in a rut.
She shouldn't have been upset that her life wasn't going according to plan.
But that's what she was upset about, and it — well, it confused her. She was probably overthinking things, but she felt like she was focusing on the wrong things where this entire mess was concerned. Or maybe she was just so upset by the entire thing that she couldn't even tell what she was upset about anymore.
She hadn't been happy with Ron, if she were honest with herself, and maybe she'd overlooked that in order to avoid the chaos of the new law. Maybe she'd wanted something comfortable and familiar, rather than accepting that she and Ron weren't meant for each other. Maybe she just didn't want to accept that the Ministry really believed George Weasley was her perfect match. Maybe she just wanted to feel like she was the one in control here, even though she had so little control at the moment.
Or maybe she did love Ron and she was upset about him sleeping with Romilda and she was merely trying to brush it off and pretend like she wasn't?
She couldn't even stand her own thoughts at this point honestly. It was all too jumbled up in her head, and she was trying too hard to make it all make sense.
So by Wednesday morning, she just decided to stop. She didn't know how she'd become the sort of person who would let a man derail her entire outlook on life, but she was sick of it. She was sick of feeling outside of her own body. She was sick of walking around like half of herself. She was sick of snapping at people constantly, and hiding in her room, and avoiding her friends simply because she was afraid to see Ron.
The entire thing was getting a bit ridiculous, and no matter how much it hurt her to know that Ron had moved on, she didn't want to do any of those things anymore. She wished things had turned out differently, but he'd made it pretty clear that he wasn't going to wait around for her, and she had her own pride.
So she was going to go about her life as though she could care less that he wasn't in it. A lie, perhaps, but she was hopeful that if she could just pretend for a little bit that it would end up being true.
It was a flimsy plan, but seeing as there were no books she could read to get over a breakup that wasn't actually a breakup, she was in a bit of a bind.
The moment she'd woken up that morning, she'd started her usual — the wallowing and staring out the window nonsense that she'd gotten comfortable with since Saturday evening — before she'd huffed at herself and forced herself out of the bed.
Run, shower, breakfast. Her normal routine…she could manage that. And perhaps the outdoors would help clear her head.
A ridiculous notion because she wasn't particularly outdoorsy, but the run had helped a little. She'd really only taken up the habit in an attempt to battle her own demons after the war. She'd tried to outrun them — and for a while she'd succeeded because the running had exhausted her so much that the nightmares had subsided briefly — but eventually it had stopped working. It did help her ground herself in reality in the mornings though, and she'd forced herself to do something productive rather than mope.
Perhaps she should have been reminding herself of that in the last several weeks when she'd been moping pathetically about a relationship that hadn't been working to begin with.
Shaking her head, she dislodged the thoughts, determined not to let her depressing considerations about Ron ruin her sudden desire to pull herself out of her funk.
Breakfast had been next. She still wasn't able to stomach much, but she forced herself to try before she'd dragged herself upstairs to shower and dress for the day.
She wasn't particularly excited about the next thing on her to do list, so she took her time getting ready, doing her best to get her unruly hair under control and wearing something that made her feel confident.
She'd have to apologize profusely and she really wasn't good at that, but she'd been horrible to George since the news of their pairing, and he'd been…perfect was probably the wrong word, but he'd been sturdier and more laidback than she'd have expected.
Not to mention, she hadn't gone into the shop to help the last two days and that had been selfish. She'd have to apologize for that too. She had a far better work ethic than that, and even if she had been going through some complex feelings and thoughts, she'd promised to help them at the shop, and she couldn't do that if she was wallowing in her own self-pity.
It was all a mess, and a lot of it was her own fault. And being a coward was getting about as old as her complicated feelings about her and Ron's relationship, so she had to be done with the entire thing.
She had plenty to be happy about, and she couldn't keep focusing on everything that had gone wrong in the last several months. She had to deliberately choose to focus on what she could control.
Taking a deep breath, she twisted to Apparate to Diagon Alley. It was a warm, breezy day and the alley was teeming with people. Now that it was officially August, back to school shopping had started in earnest and shops and cafes were full to bursting with frazzled parents and excitedly chattering students. She couldn't move without bumping shoulders with someone else, and she had to use her hair as a curtain to block her face in order to prevent being recognized by passersby. She wasn't particularly in the mood to be gawked at, and if there were any reporters, she'd be in for an even worse time.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes without incident. It was odd how comforting the jarring orange and purple building was to her now. She'd become so comfortable in this place, even though it drove her to near insanity most days, particularly if Eugene was inside it. They were closed on Wednesdays and it looked odd to be empty and quiet, laughter sounding out behind her rather than from the inside of the loudest building on the street.
She passed into the alleyway in which she knew there was a rear door into the back hallway, and took another five minutes making sure she'd unwarded the building before she unlocked it with the key she kept on her keychain and stepped over the threshold. She was careful about re-locking the door and locking the deadbolt over it before she listened carefully to the shop floor.
It was their day off, but the twins had been known to work overtime, and she wasn't sure if today would be one of those days. She was met with silence, however, so she made her way up the stairs to what she assumed — or hoped because she'd never been up here before — was their flat. When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused at the white steel door. It was entirely plain of any sort of decor, but they had a welcome mat that read "Wipe Your Feet, Stupid."
She snorted despite herself; if she focused hard enough, she could nearly manage to hear one of them saying exactly those words. Shaking her head, she raised a hand to knock firmly on the door.
Nothing.
She knocked again, harder this time in case they weren't able to hear it further back in the flat. She'd never been up here before, and she had no idea how large it was inside. Or maybe they weren't inside. She had no idea what she would do if they —
"Do you know what bloody time it is — Hermione?"
The door swung open before she could even begin to contemplate what she would do if they weren't home and she came face to face with Fred Weasley's bare chest.
She had no idea why, seeing as she was a twenty year old woman, but she squeaked and slapped a hand over her eyes as if the sight of bare skin were somehow mortifying.
"Fred!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Where is your shirt?"
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Ten o'clock," she said, rolling her eyes behind her hand. "Where is your shirt?"
She could just hear the grin in his voice when he spoke next.
"Somewhere on my bedroom floor, I imagine," he said.
"Don't you imagine that you should have put it on before you came to answer the door?"
"Don't you imagine that you should owl before you show up at my doorstep at the crack of dawn —?"
The question was so ridiculous that she lowered her hand to glare at him before she remembered that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She squeaked again and slapped a hand back over her eyes, wishing she could see him to kick out at him when he started laughing.
"Could you please dress yourself before we have a conversation about the difference between late morning and the crack of dawn?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't get your knickers in a bunch," he said, stepping aside to let her in. He snorted when she stayed put, her hand blocking her view completely. "You can come in, Mia."
"Stop calling me that," she muttered, peeking through her fingers in order to step over the threshold.
"I'll be right back," Fred said, disappearing down the hallway.
Hermione relaxed with a sigh, lowering her hand slowly to peer around her in interest. She blinked several times in surprise; she didn't know why, but she'd imagined their space to be a bit more chaotic and unorderly, maybe even an amalgamation of furniture that didn't quite match. Perhaps because they spent so much of their time in chaos or because they had picked work robes in a color that clashed so horribly with their hair. She didn't know, really, but it was…well, it was quite nice in here.
The color scheme was quite normal, shades of dark gray and navy with small pops of color in the form of orange and red accent pillows or gold throws. They were clearly partial to light oak, all of their tables and bookshelves made using the deeper color of wood. The walls were an interesting shade of a dark midnight purple. She'd have expected the colors to clash somehow, but outside of the throw pillows, the color scheme worked rather well. It had a very warm feeling atmosphere that she felt matched the twins' personalities.
It was very tidy as well. There was a stack of books on one of the side tables and throws that were clearly thrown about haphazardly, but for the most part, they appeared to keep the space clean for a pair of bachelors living on their own.
It relaxed her a little for some reason, their living room. It was just so simply beautiful in a way that was understated and the warmth of the colors and lighting made her feel at home.
She distracted herself by stepping toward the mantle to eye the photos and knickknacks that they'd spread across it. She smiled slightly at the sight of the flowerpot that they used for Floo powder, much the same way that their parents stored theirs. A couple photos of the twins and Lee at school, one with the entire Gryffindor quidditch team, and some of them with the other Weasleys. It was the one in the middle that drew her eye the most, however.
Both of them were standing directly in front of the store, arms around each other's necks and wide grins across their faces. She watched them throw an arm around each other over and over again and wondered why the sight of it made her chest warm and her eyes prickle lightly.
That had been mid-war and yet they both looked so happy, so optimistic, so free. They looked like the best of friends, totally inseparable and ready to live a dream that they'd imagined for years.
And to think how that one dream had turned into a successful booming business was…well, it was surreal to think about. In the blink of an eye, they'd made their dream a reality and they'd done it together. And we're still somehow the best of friends.
"Right, so, what's got you banging on my door at ten o'clock in the morning on our day off?"
Hermione jumped at the sound of Fred's voice behind her and blinked away the watering of her eyes. If she had to explain to Fred Weasley that she was emotional about the fact that he and George were best friends, she'd simply expire from embarrassment.
She really had to get her emotions under control. That would be her next item on the list.
When she was sure her weird emotional response to the photo had subsided, she turned around to face him.
"I was just looking for George," she explained. He raised an eyebrow.
"At ten in the morning?"
"Why do you keep saying it like I woke you up at four AM? Ten is a normal time of the day. I was up at eight." she said with an eye roll. "Imagine all the things you could have gotten done by now if —"
Fred cut her off by holding up a hand to stop her lecture.
"Alright, Mum, that's enough," he said sarcastically, walking back toward the hallway. "I don't need this sort of negativity on my day of rest. George is asleep, but I'll get him. Feel free to cry over more photos while I'm gone if you'd like."
She huffed at him as he disappeared again, and resolutely refused to look at any more photos. Stupid prat.
She heard footsteps coming down the hallway and she was only just preparing herself to speak with George when Katie came rounding the corner instead, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt. She smiled at Hermione and waved happily.
"Hey, Hermione!" she said in greeting, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. "How are you?"
"Oh, I — fine," she said, surprised to see Katie in front of her. "You?"
"Good," she said, puttering around in one of the cabinets as if she were fully comfortable in the twins' flat. "Did you want tea?"
"No, thank you, I'm just waiting for George," she said.
Katie set the kettle to boil and then turned around to look at her, narrowing her eyes on her as if she were attempting to see straight through her. Hermione cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
"How are things with you two?" the older girl said eventually.
Hermione snorted and gave her a pointed look.
"Why do I get the impression that you already know the answer to that question?"
Katie grinned at her.
"I know one side of the story, but men can be a bit stingy on the details," she said in a casually indifferent tone, grabbing several pieces of bread and setting them to toast. "They don't always pay attention to the details that matter. Or maybe they notice and they're too afraid to admit the whole truth? Who knows? Men are complex creatures. Toast?"
"No thank you," Hermione said, bewildered by this line of questioning. And where had Fred gone? "I — everything is fine. George has been great. He's handling things better than I am anyway."
Katie nodded thoughtfully as she buttered the mountain of toast in front of her.
"We missed you at dinner on Sunday," she said, looking at her seriously. Hermione blinked at her and opened her mouth to say something, but Katie cut her off. "It's okay, you don't have to defend yourself. You needed the time to yourself. Really, I get it…and the twins will probably be here soon so it's probably not the best time to get into the whole thing, but — well, I just hope you recognize your worth, Hermione. That's all."
Hermione had to clear her throat twice before she could say anything, and even then, she just nodded mutely. The entire point of her getting out of bed today had been an attempt to recognize her worth, but the words — coming from someone she hardly knew — were both soothing and upsetting. She needed the reminder if she was going to keep going on this trajectory, but having an acquaintance say the words to her just made her realize how deep she'd let herself go into her spiral.
Thankfully, Fred and George appeared before she had to work herself up into saying anything in return. She turned to face them, and immediately squeaked, whirling around to look at Katie with wide eyes.
"George!" Hermione said, flushing to the roots of her hair. "Why are you — does no one in this house wear clothing in public?"
"Well, technically speaking, we're not in public considering this is our home," Fred said unhelpfully, moving past her to enter the kitchen and grabbing a cup of tea and a piece of toast. He leaned against the counter beside Katie, crossing his legs at the ankle and grinning over at her cheekily. "Besides, you didn't like seeing me shirtless; I assumed Georgie would receive better reception."
God, this was a bad idea. She was never coming to this apartment before noon ever again.
She narrowed her eyes on Fred dangerously.
"You look the same," she said as if his logic were entirely unsound.
It was not. At all.
Maybe it was knowing that she was supposed to be marrying the man behind her, but Fred's chest had just been a…chest. Something she was sure she was not supposed to be seeing under normal circumstances, but it was of no general interest to her, even if he was quite fit.
George's chest was…well, it was the same. Exactly the same except it was more distracting somehow. She had not a clue what he did to stay in shape, but she could certainly see the appeal of it. Not that she'd ever admit that out loud. Harder to ignore was the way he looked so sleep tousled — his hair sticking up on the sides, his face rough with stubble, his cheeks only slightly redder than normal.
All things she was sure that she should not have noticed.
She was ill. It was the only explanation for this ridiculous behavior.
Katie's grin widened as she looked at her and drank her tea as if she were watching a drama unfold before her. Hermione could certainly tell in that moment why she and Fred would be paired together. Katie wasn't the trouble making sort in terms of pulling pranks, but she definitely enjoyed watching them unfold before her.
She could not stand the lot of them.
"Relax, Granger, I've put a shirt on," George said in amusement, summoning a plain T-shirt and shoving it over his head. "Fred wasn't very forthcoming with details when he woke me up. What's up?"
She turned slowly to face him as if she were half-afraid that he might still be half-dressed. She sighed in relief to see that he wasn't, though he still appeared adorably sleep-tousled.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she said apologetically. "I thought you'd be awake by now, and I was hoping to talk to you, but I can…"
Leave? Put the conversation off? Give him ten minutes to get himself together? What was the end to that sentence?
She really didn't know why she was so awkward every time she talked to him. Out of all the books she'd read and all of the vocabulary available to her, she couldn't have a single conversation with this man without stumbling over her words, and she didn't really want to keep putting things off anymore.
She'd been humbled several days ago, and being in control at the moment felt relaxing, even if she was feeling a bit awkward.
If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
"It's alright," he said, running a hand through his hair and mussing it further. "You're already here."
"Right, well, I —" she started, nodding to herself. It was then that she remembered that they weren't exactly alone, and she turned to look at Fred and Katie. She had to withhold a snort when they didn't even appear to be trying not to listen. Instead, they were looking between her and George, appearing very interested in the conversation. When they met her look with innocent grins, she had to withhold the urge to laugh because it was just so ridiculous. "Are we going to let you two listen in on a private conversation?"
George laughed when Fred looked affronted by the question, but it was Katie who answered, grabbing her cup of tea and gesturing to Fred to grab the toast she'd made.
"Right, we were just going," she said brightly, even though they certainly hadn't been. Fred gawked at her.
"To watch, right?" he said as though he were finishing her sentence. Katie gave him a pointed look and he sighed heavily, grabbing the plate of toast and his own tea, and let her pull him out of the room. Before they disappeared into his room, Hermione heard him hiss, "This is ridiculous, George is going to tell me anyway. What's the point of leaving?"
Katie said something, but she couldn't quite make it out before the door shut behind them. George rolled his eyes to the ceiling and moved past her into the kitchen to make his own breakfast. She followed after him awkwardly.
"You don't happen to have Extendable Ears in here, do you?" she said, trying to lighten some of her anxiety over the current situation by cracking a joke. Although there was some concern that Fred was listening in on them with one.
George grinned at her and shook his head, setting a pot of water to boil.
"No, they're banned in the flat unless we're doing product testing."
"Banned in the —? No, don't tell me," she said, waving the question away, despite his amusement.
"It wouldn't matter anyway. I'm sure he and Katie are pressing their ears to the door to hear what's happening anyway."
She rolled her eyes. Ridiculous, the both of them.
"So they know then? About why I left the birthday party?"
George eyed her for a moment as if fully considering his options.
"I didn't tell them," he said. When she raised an eyebrow, he amended, "Alright, I didn't tell Katie, but they noticed you were gone and when Ron and Romilda came back to the party and you didn't, I'm sure she made assumptions."
Possibly, or she'd just pestered Fred until she'd gotten the full story. Hermione groaned and sat down at their kitchen table — why did she have to overreact in a place that everyone had been in? It was mortifying now, several days after the fact.
She looked up in surprise when George set a hot cup of coffee in front of her.
"This looks like a conversation that's going to require coffee," he said by way of explanation, sitting across from her with a steaming cup of his own. "2 cream, 2 sugar, right? Or thereabouts because I only eyeballed the cream."
She blinked at him.
He knew her coffee order. He — he knew her coffee order.
She was rushed with a fresh wave of guilt as the knowledge of that hit her. Because of course he did — they brought coffee to the shop every morning that she was scheduled, and yet…
"Right, thank you," she said, clearing her throat. "I — and you drink yours…"
"Black," he said calmly as if it were totally acceptable that she didn't know his, but he knew hers. "I don't need a sugar crash while Eugene is digging through the fireworks." Hermione hurrunphed at the mention of the boy, and he hid his grin behind his mug and took a large sip. "So, what'd you want to talk about?"
She shook her head to dislodge the growing list of things she had to feel guilty about where he was concerned and decided to just rip the bandage off.
"I just wanted to apologize," she said, toying with the rim of her mug. There was a small chip on one side that she busied herself with, running the pad of her finger over it again and again. "I should have come in the last few days, and I'm supposed to be helping you, and I know you've gotten used to it just being you, Fred, and Verity, but I still should have been here, so that's the first thing. I hope it didn't mess anything up with the hiring process…"
"It didn't," he said, seeming relaxed about the entire thing. Which was really more than she could hope for because they'd both known that she hadn't been ill. "We're leaning toward someone specific, but we can't meet with them again until tomorrow."
"I'll be here, I swear," she said earnestly.
"Noted," he said with a raised brow. "And the second thing?"
Right. The second thing.
Well, the second thing was a mess and a little complicated to explain, and more than slightly emotional in terms of how she felt about the whole thing. She was so used to just dealing with it all on her own, but seeing as she'd been a nightmare to be around in the last month — or a rollercoaster of emotions was probably more accurate — she felt like he deserved some sort of explanation or apology.
"Well, the second thing is…" she paused, trying to find the words to express herself properly. "I think I want to apologize to you, but I'm really not good at this sort of thing. It's a bit awkward with you looking at me."
He swallowed a laugh and raised an eyebrow cheekily.
"Do you want me to close my eyes then?" he joked. "Maybe turn my back to you?"
"I was thinking I could just hex them shut actually," she said with an eye roll. George snorted.
"Is this your first apology?" he said dryly, that twinkle sparkling in the back of his eyes.
She sighed, rubbing at her forehead.
"It's just that — well, I'm sure you noticed, but Ron and I didn't exactly communicate very well —"
"I'll say," he muttered to himself around the rim of his mug. She narrowed her gaze on him.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that seeing as I've been a bit of a harpy the last few months," she said with a snort. "Anyway, Ron and I didn't really resolve arguments, so much as we ignored or snapped at each other until we got too tired to do that anymore, and I guess I've made it a sort of…habit. A bad one, and you certainly didn't do anything wrong. So I'm sorry for snapping at you on Saturday when you were just trying to help. And, you know, for avoiding you when you came to talk to me on Sunday. I just — I needed a little time to think everything through."
George was silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts to respond and she waited as patiently as she was able to see if he'd lose that calm facade and refuse to forgive her.
She wouldn't have blamed him if he did. If she looked back at everything she'd said or done to him in the last two months, she really didn't understand how he'd managed to keep from snapping at her. She knew she had very little patience as far as these things went, but she didn't think that she'd ever seen a human being who put up with as much as he had in the last several months.
After a while, he sighed heavily and set his mug down, meeting her gaze directly in a way that froze her to her seat completely.
"I don't mean to be harsh here, Hermione, but this is going to fall apart fast if you push me away every time I show any shred of concern for you," he said. The words were blunt, but his tone was more matter-of-fact than accusing, though she could see his irritation in the way he was tapping his thumb on the side of his mug repeatedly. "I don't really care how you and Ron settled things between you. Truth is, I'm not Ron. And maybe you're wishing I was, but I can't give you that. I don't want to shy away from confrontation or snipe at each other on the side or ignore the situation until it fades without actually being resolved. If you need space, you can just say that without worrying it will hurt my feelings. If I do something that upsets you, you can just say so. You don't have to go out of your way to avoid me or snap at me for asking you what you need or because I'm concerned about you. I'd prefer that we were open enough with each other that we can at least do that, and I don't think that's entirely unreasonable."
There was nothing quite so humbling as being chided by a Weasley twin. She knew that they were serious more often than people thought and she certainly hadn't given him near enough credit in the past (or, arguably, even recently), but it was still a bit odd to have him reprimand her choices.
More so that he was so forthcoming about how he felt. She didn't really surround herself with people who so openly admitted what upset them. Most people were more guarded with those sorts of things, and she didn't know if it was just within his nature to be so honest or if he just trusted her enough to tell her anyway, but she — well, it was admirable.
She'd never really handled her emotions well, which was becoming more and more apparent, and she'd let herself fall into the trap with Ron of fighting for the sake of fighting, putting her own emotions and needs on the backburner, and learning to just cope with things on her own.
It was…refreshing to have someone just tell her straight what they needed from her and how her behavior made them feel. It was also refreshing to have someone lay it out more rationally than accusingly. With Ron, it had always felt like he was judging her, like his actions and words were superior to her, and she'd always taken offense to that. She'd gotten defensive immediately, rather than considering the words he was saying.
George merely laid it out so matter-of-factly that it…relaxed her. She could actually feel some of the tension in her shoulders relaxing.
Was that weird?
She didn't know, but she'd always responded to facts more easily. They were objective and separate from her emotions, and that made it easier for her to reflect on her own behavior. And though she knew that George had had as much time to think over the events of the weekend as she had — and that it likely wouldn't be so straightforward if they were mid heated argument — it gave her some hope that they could at least manage to have more civil discussions than she and Ron ever had.
"It's not unreasonable," she agreed quietly, looking down at her coffee mug again. "I'm sorry, George. You really have been very patient through this whole thing. I know I've been a bit…testy…lately, but I'll work on it. I know I haven't said so, but I really am grateful that it's you. Even if it is a little weird."
"A little is a bit of an understatement," he said, chuckling, the sound lifting some of the stifling seriousness around them. "But thank you. Am I allowed to ask how you're doing or are you still stewing?"
She rolled her eyes.
"I was not stewing —"
"Fine, marinating."
"I wasn't marinating either," she said with a snort. "Or brooding or whatever other ridiculous word you've got in your head. I was…considering."
"And what did you consider?"
She narrowed her eyes at the smirk on his face, but the banter was returning them back to a semi-normal, and she really hadn't been sure how well her apology would go over, so she ignored it.
"I can't tell you what I considered," she said eventually. When he raised his eyebrows, she clarified, "Not because I need space still, but just because…well, I really don't know how I feel. I'm angry and hurt, obviously, but I think it's because he didn't have the decency to speak to me before he just up and moved on. We never really officially broke things off, and I guess I was clinging stupidly to that fact." She winced, realizing what she said and smiled at him apologetically. "Which is probably not something I should be saying to my fiance, is it?"
George laughed.
"If the situation was normal, I'd say no," he said, eyeing her closely. "But I think my real concern is whether or not you intend to keep stupidly hanging on."
Hermione swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, and shook her head.
"No, I —" she had to clear her throat to stop her voice from shaking. "We didn't work, and I knew that…even before the law. I just didn't want to let go, but it — I mean, he made it pretty clear that he's moved on, hasn't he? And I really don't want to be the sort of person that wallows in pity and is miserable to be around just because her ex-boyfriend has the emotional range of a teaspoon. It just — it's harder than I thought it would be to let go, is all."
He studied her for a long moment as if he were trying to ascertain whether or not she really meant what she was saying. She supposed she hadn't given him much reason to believe that she would leave her and Ron's relationship behind, but what other option did she have?
She was a rational human being (ignoring more recent events). She'd waited around for as long as she could, but when the man she'd imagined being with had made it quite clear on numerous occasions that he wasn't coming back, it was just pathetic and irrational for her to keep trying so hard.
She should have known that when he'd said he didn't want to marry her. She should have known that when he'd ignored her for weeks because she didn't want to raise children for a living. She should have known that when he'd been so excited to be paired with someone who wasn't her.
She should've known that well before Saturday night, but seeing him so intimate with someone else and hearing him call her 'Millie' so casually had been like a slap to the face. She still needed some time to figure out who she was outside of their relationship and she wasn't particularly jumping at the chance to see him and Romilda together, but she'd run out of options as far as these things went.
So, hurt pride and broken-heartedness aside, she would leave it behind her. If she wanted to be the sort of person she'd be proud of, she'd have to. And if she had to prove that to George Weasley as well then so be it.
So, instead of waiting for doubt to creep over his face, she said, "Anyway, now that we've gotten the apologies out of the way, I actually had a third thing. You said that I had to plan our next outing, and I — well, other than Quidditch and tinkering in the shop, I really don't know what you like to do…"
"Are you trying to get me to help you plan this, Granger?" he said, taking in disapproval. "How disappointing."
"I'm not asking you to help plan it," she said with a snort. "I'm just saying that — well, I — what do you do other than throw apples around on broomsticks and blow things up?"
He snorted.
"I fly recreationally, without throwing apples," he said with a grin. "Perhaps we ought to give that a go." She gave him a withering look and he laughed loudly. "I know overthinking is sort of your schtick, Hermione, but might I suggest letting that go in this instance? Just plan something casual"
"Well, you might be a bit disappointed to know that when I don't think too hard, I want to go back to that bookstore," she quipped, not entirely lying. "I'm not totally familiar with what wizards do for these sorts of things."
George raised a brow.
"Well, what do Muggles do then?"
She blinked at them.
"Well, loads of things, but — I suppose I never thought about going to Muggle London…"
Someone had told her once that she was the sort of person that over thought so much that she missed the more obvious solutions. At the current moment, she felt exactly like that.
She'd become so accustomed to being in the Wizarding world that she sometimes forgot that she could immerse herself in the Muggle world just as easily.
George seemed to find the shock on her face amusing.
"You're Muggle-born, Hermione," he said with a shake of his head.
"Yes, well, you're a pureblood," she said defensively. "Last time we tried introducing Muggle technology into your family, Ron got Harry in trouble for screaming at his uncle through the telephone. I guess I figured that you'd prefer to do something magical."
George snorted.
"First of all, we had no idea he could hear us on the felly-tone —"
"Telephone," Hermione corrected, giggling uncontrollably.
" — and secondly, that was five years ago. The Muggle world is part of who you are, and it would make sense that I'd have to become more familiar with that world to be a part of yours."
Her entire mind blanked for a moment at the words, and it took her a while to find the words again.
"Right, no, that makes…sense," she said slowly, her thoughts coalescing slowly and something in her chest warmed at his words. The Weasleys had never thought themselves above Muggles by any means, but they were just as guilty of sheltering themselves in the Wizarding world as most other wizards. Some of this was necessary, of course, in order to abide by the Statute of Secrecy, but other than Mr. Weasley, the rest of the family didn't show much interest in the Muggle experience. The fact that George would even have considered placing himself in a world he barely knew for the sake of understanding her better was…quite possibly the sweetest thing she'd ever heard, though she had no idea how to express this to him. "I'll, uh, plan something in Muggle London then."
"Great," he said, nodding at her empty coffee. "Do you want more?"
She shook her head, some of her senses coming back to her again.
"No, thank you," she said, standing up. "I should probably get back. I'm supposed to save Ginny from more wedding planning or she and your mother might kill each other."
George snorted.
"Right, well, I'll see you tomorrow then," he said. "Assuming they haven't burned the house down anyway."
She waved at him awkwardly before twisting on the spot and disappearing with a crack.
The entire thing had been a bit awkward, but staring at the Burrow in front of her, she could feel some of that weight on her chest lifting. It would be a long road still, but today felt like a step in the right direction.
She could live with that.