Separate Worlds

Chapter Three

If anyone asked Hermione how she managed to get to Hogsmeade without trembling so much that she fell into little pieces, she wouldn't have be able to tell them. Maybe it was because she WAS trembling so much she felt as if she would fall into pieces. Her boots crunched on the paved roads, the only sound for miles as she entered the more quaint country areas of the village. The area described by Fred and George loomed ahead in the distance. It was designed to look like a plain cluster of cottages, but the expensive tiling on the paths, the occaisional gardener watering the front yard and the Aston Martins and Jaguars parked next to the homes (used by some richer witches and wizards for pure amusement; others, because their jobs often brought them in contact with Muggles) identified it as an extremely rich neighborhood . She glanced at the slip of parchment in her hand and spotted the corresponding building, set a little back from the others by the very French shrubbery surrounding it.

She gulped, feeling strangely nervous. What would she find when she got there? Ron and some woman on the sofa, limbs entangled in tired sleep? She certainly hoped not - for Ron's sake as well as hers. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. If worst came to worst, she would quickly and quietly divorce him and...and...and what? She couldn't completely shut him out of her life; he had been her friend since that day, long-ago that he and Harry had saved her from the troll in the girls' toilets. She didn't think she would ever get over him if they ever separated.

She realised that she was stalling, and hurriedly rang the doorbell. She heard footsteps approaching and tried her best to gain some composure.

" 'Ello...Oh!" A very surprised Fleur Delacour stared at Hermione in shock. "What are you doing here?" Hermione took in Fleur's appearance: Her usually immaculate hair was dishevelled, she was barefoot and was wearing what was unmistakably a man's button-down shirt and absolutely nothing else. She was temporarily at a loss for words, but soon blurted out:

"Is Ron here?" She tilted her head to the side quizzically.

"Mais non, 'e is at ze Burrow."

"But didn't he stay here last night?" At this her face changed, a dawn of understanding changing her features.

"Well, of course! After you drove him out of ze house, what do you expect?" Hermione's mouth dropped open in disbelief. He had told her, actually told her about their argument when she was the cause of it! He had obviously spent the night being consoled by this-this-she mouthed words soundlessly before turning abruptly and storming away from Fleur Delacour and her rich little flat, away from the cottages, and back to her home.

She could barely see where she was going. Her eyes blurred by tears she refused to shed, she tried to make her way home. When she tried to Apparate, she landed several miles west. She sighed and trudged slowly to the underground, paying for her ticket listlessly. She took a seat closest to the door and leaned back, her eyes boring into the bright flourescent lights in an effort to divert her attention. It didn't work, as the same thought whirled over and over in her mind as she rode the underground back into Muggle London.

He cheated on me. She knew, just knew, that it just was too good to last. They had struck out on their own and she had finally managed to get Ron a good job. They were madly in love, or so she thought. Obviously she wasn't good enough for him. All the doubts she had harboured about being a wife, all the insecurities about her appearance, her personality...they all came back and threatened to overwhelm her.

She finally stumbled to the front door of the apartment, swearing as the realised she had forgotten her keys. She whispered "Alohomora," and heard the lock click. She threw her cloak onto a chair and rushed to the kitchen, eager for something strong enough to make her forget, at least for the time. As she poured herself a rather large drink, the sharp jangling of the telephone made the bottle of liquor jerk out of her hands. She waved her wand at the fast-falling bottle catching it in mid-air just before it fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand sparkling, liquor-soaked pieces. Muttering menacingly, she grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hermione?" The voice on the other line was the last person she wanted to hear from right now.

"What is it, Ron?" Her tone was sharp and cold and she clutched the phone with a death-like grip.

"Didn't you get my message?" She looked down at the receiver and saw that the message button was blinking. "Dad's had some heart trouble. He's at St. Mungo's right now." The crackling tone of his voice was due partly to his worry concerning his father and the fact that he was talking on a mobile phone.

Hermione's anger melted away, replaced with concern. Arthur Weasley was the benevolent head of the Weasley family, peacefully coexisting with his wife and amusedly watching his children grow up and (some of them, anyway) start families of their own, each as unruly as they themselves had been. It truly grieved her to know of his condition. She pressed the message button, ready to delete it when she noticed the time and date he left it on.

"When did you leave the message? I would have came right away if I had known."

"I was owled at around five this morning. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Fred and George told me where you were."

"Why didn't you just call me there?" The gall of him! She was about to say something extremely nasty and hang up, but she remember Arthur and forced herself to calm down.

"Actually, I went there." Silence. "Couldn't keep away, could you?" The phone was muffled for a minute before Ron spoke again. His voice shook with...anger, sadness?

"Bloody Hell, Hermione..." She interrupted him hastily, saying,

"I don't want to hear it. Please tell your dad I hope he gets better soon."

"Does that mean you're not coming here?" She took a hasty gulp of her drink to give her courage, then said,

"I can't...I'm going to America." The study offer. Now that she had said it, was she really going to leave?

"Why? Is it because of Fleur? If it is, you're absolutely crazy." It was at that moment that Hermione exploded.

"Crazy, am I? Then why did the number one Magical Medical University in the America, no, in the world choose me for their study-abroad program?" Violent swearing commenced on the other end of the line.

"You were looking for a way to get to America ever since you got that damned offer! If that's what you want, then...just GO!" The phone was savagely hung up and she looked at it disbelievingly before throwing it down onto the floor, not particularly caring if it broke apart. Then she ran to the bedroom and threw herself onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.