Disclaimer: These characters and settings belong to JK Rowling. No profit is being made or sought; I'm just having a little fun.
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I feel so unsure as I take your hand an lead you to the dance floor. The room was filthy. Clothes were strewn all around, over the back of chairs, the couch and on the floor. Dirty plates were lying on the table and in the sink, looking like they had been there for days. A large stack of newspapers was sitting in an untidy pile in a corner of the room. The air in the room was stale and musty, but none of this made the slightest difference to the man sitting on the couch. His face looked tired and haggard, and there were large black rings under his eyes. The stubble that grazed his chin gave evidence that he hadn't shaved in days, and it caused him to look even more worn out. His clothes were crumpled and looked like he had slept in them for a week. All in all, he looked like a tired old man of thirty-five. He was twenty-four. Time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend. He gazed blankly at an engagement ring in his hand, feeling completely dead inside. He couldn't even summon up enough emotion to cry. Today had been the day he was supposed to get married. He wondered how everything had gone so wrong, how one little mistake had ruined his life forever. His mind wandered back to that fateful night… Ron Weasley couldn't help feeling on the top of the world. It had happened… had finally happened. After years of waiting for this day… years of training and perfecting his skill… months of brutally fought and hard won games. The Chudley Cannons had won the championship. He, Ronald Weasley, had not only been in the stands to see it. Oh no, he was the Keeper and Captain of the winning team, one of the most highly sought after keepers in the league, and on that day, he felt he had finally arrived. There was something missing, however. The only two people he wanted to share his victory with were both absent. Harry and Hermione, two of the topmost Aurors of the Ministry, were both out of the country on assignment. He smiled sadly as he imagined the look on Harry's face, for only Harry could understand how much this meant to him, how hard he had worked for it. Hermione, though, was the one he really missed, his beautiful fiancée, the woman he was madly in love with. He could almost see her soft smile, the look of pride on her face, and feel her soft lips on his as she kissed him fiercely. He sighed. It did not matter. They would be back soon and they could celebrate then. Today he could celebrate with his teammates. It was tradition for the Captain of the winning team to get royally drunk after a major victory, and his teammates wouldn't have it any other way. Glass after glass of firewhisky was pressed into his hands, and he dutifully drained each of them. He soon lost consciousness of the people around him and they became mere blurs of colour to him. The tremendous cheering of the fans and yelling of his teammates hardly registered. He just sat there, a goofy grin on his face, his brain filled with a heavy fog, unable to think, unable to move, only able to feel. I'm never gonna dance again He felt a soft body press itself onto his side and he turned around to look at the woman. "Hi, big boy," she whispered into his ear. "You were magnificent today." "'Mione?" Ron slurred. He only got a giggle in response, and the next moment a pair of lips descended on his, kissing him passionately. Ron's head was reeling and he briefly pulled away to mumble into her ear. "Mmm, missed you 'Mione… didn't know you were gonna return today." The only response he got from the girl was her lips descending on his again and this time he kissed her back, showing her how much he had missed her, how much he needed her. A part of him vaguely felt that something was wrong, but his drink-addled mind couldn't figure out what exactly was amiss. His blood was boiling by this time from all the hot kisses, effectively stopping all thoughts. What happened next he never knew. The drinks continued to flow until he was close to passing out. The only thing he remembered was waking up in the morning, naked, lying next to an equally naked body. He lifted his eyes up and what he saw froze his blood. Hermione was standing by the door of the bedroom, her mouth open in shock, furious tears flowing down her face. She gave him one long look, filled with such immense hurt and loathing that it stunned him silent, and then she turned around and walked out of his life. But now who's gonna dance with me? - Please stay. ~*~*~*~ Harry looked at Hermione silently, observing her fill out the report of their latest mission. She was the ideal partner, highly intelligent, extremely powerful and one of the few people he could blindly trust with his life. She had always been his best friend, the one person who had always been ready to help him, who had stood by him through thick and thin, had loved him like a brother and risked her life to fight by his side. He would gladly give up his life to save hers, so it was very difficult for him to see her like this. She had changed ever since the 'incident'. In public, nobody would ever be able to tell the difference. She was just as committed to her work, just as sharp; it seemed nothing had changed. He, who had spent half of his life being her friend, knew better. Her silences told him more than her words ever could. He could plainly see the pain in her eyes at times when her mask faltered. He knew she was hurting, hurting so much that it was destroying her. "Don't, Harry," she said without looking up. "Don't what, 'Mione?" he asked softly. "Don't look at me like that," she said, raising her eyes and looking at him. "I'm okay, really I am." "Liar." The word raced across the desk hitting her with the intensity of a slap. She flinched. "I don't want to discuss it." "It's been six months, Hermione. I think its time to talk," Harry said calmly. "There's nothing to talk about," she said, lifting her chin up stubbornly. "Sure there is," Harry said gently. "No, there isn't, Harry," she said angrily. "I said I don't want to talk about it. So stop fucking interfering where you don't need to." The violence in her tone and the profanity, which she had never used before in her life, stunned Harry for a second. Then he grinned. "I never thought the day would come when the perfect Hermione Granger would swear." "Well, guess what?" Hermione bit out. "I'm not bloody perfect. I never was." Harry was about to say something, but was cut off as she brokenly whispered. "I wasn't good enough for him, was I?" Harry gripped the edge of the table tightly. "You know that's not true." "Oh, it is," she said with a bitter laugh. "You know it is, but the worst part was that he had to go and sleep with her." She turned to Harry. "I still can't forget how she looked at me, Harry, lying there next to him, smirking at me. I still see her face every time I close my eyes. It's as if she is mocking me, telling me that she took everything I held dear and destroyed it. And I hate him for it, hate him for allowing that floozy to get that power over me." "What did I do wrong, Harry? Did I not love him enough? Or am I that bad looking that he had to go looking for another woman?" Hermione broke down at this point, burying her face in her hands and sobbing bitterly, finally allowing herself release that she had denied herself for so long. Harry gathered her into his arms and let her cry, knowing that she needed it. She cried for what seemed like hours, cried for everything she had lost, for the man she had loved so completely. Finally she pushed away. "I'm… I'm sorry, Harry." Harry shook his head and smiled bitterly. "Lavender Brown… the useless little airhead… who knew she had it in her to be so cunning? So spiteful?" Hermione looked up at him curiously, wondering what he meant by his comment. "Do you think Ron's love for you was a sham, 'Mione?" "What else is there to think?" she said, dropping her head down tiredly. Harry shook his head in frustration. "Did you read any of the letters he sent you?" "There's nothing he has to say that I'm interested in," Hermione said bitterly. "So that would be a 'no,' then?" Harry sighed. "He quit the Cannons and gave up Quidditch." Hermione's head shot up. "He what?" Harry nodded. "He said he couldn't play anymore. His heart wasn't in it. Arthur's getting him a job in his old department at the Ministry." "Why are you telling me this, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding tortured. "Because he loves you, 'Mione. He made a mistake and hates himself for it." "Oh… it's so easy for you men to do what you want and say you made a mistake, isn't it? Typical," she spat angrily. "Hermione, I met Dean yesterday and he told me some very interesting things." "What does Dean have to do with anything?" "He was dating Lavender and just broke up with her." "Stop. I don't want to hear anymore," Hermione said sharply. "Listen to me, 'Mione," Harry said urgently. "No, Harry," Hermione screamed. "I don't want to bloody listen. It's over. Can't you let me be in peace? Do you have to pour salt over my wounds?" "He thought it was you," Harry yelled back. "WHAT?" "He thought it was you, 'Mione," Harry repeated softly. "That night his teammates got him so drunk that he didn't know his head from his arse. He thought it was you. He even called Lavender by your name." Hermione sank down into her chair, her face going white with shock. "She never forgave Ron for dumping her, and she never forgave you for stealing him away." Hermione shook her head in denial, opening her mouth in a wordless scream of anguish. "It isn't over yet," Harry whispered. "Go to him. Don't punish him anymore… don't punish yourself…" ~*~*~*~ The door to his apartment opened softly and he looked up wearily. He didn't have the strength to meet anyone, not today of all days. When he saw who it was his body stiffened in shock. He dared not even breathe lest she disappear. Hermione looked at him for a long moment, taking in his appearance. It was almost too much for her to bear to see him like this. She saw him stare at her, his heart in his eyes, but not daring to say anything. A thousand questions flickered in his eyes, and a million apologies. But suddenly none of them were needed. Nothing mattered anymore but ending this state of misery they had been living in. "Hi, baby," Hermione said softly, tears running down her face. "Do you still want to get married?" Ron was up in a flash, gathering her into his arms tightly, sobbing like a little boy. "I'm… I'm so-sor-sorry, 'Mione… please don't leave me again," he choked out. "I won't," she cried out, running her hands up and down his back as she pulled him closer to her. "I'll never leave you." Ron bent his head down, kissing her fiercely. "I love you. God, I love you so much!" Ron moaned. "I love you too, baby," Hermione whispered. "It's been hell without you." "I want us to get married today," Ron said suddenly. "I don't want to wait another minute." Hermione grinned, some of her old spirit shining through. "On one condition." "Condition?" Ron asked warily. She nodded "I've always had a thing for you in your Cannons uniform. I had decided a long time ago that my husband just had to be a Quidditch jock." Ron grinned, his eyes alight with pure happiness. "Your wish is my command." |
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Author's Notes: Happy Birthday, Jay. |