Separate Worlds

Chapter Seven

Ron Weasley undid his tie hurriedly, striding into the bedroom of his home. It was a new acquirement, located in Knightsbridge. The room he was in now had been tastefully decorated in dark blue and green tones.

The interior designer really knew what she was doing, thought Ron. This was actually only the third or fourth time he had been here, as he was away on business a lot of the time. He undid the buttons of his shirt, letting it drop to the thickly carpeted floor. 'That's what House Elves are for. Why else would I pay them?' He smiled wryly. Paying the House-Elves was suggested by Hermione, of course. Seeing as Ginny was head of the Department of Magical Creatures, she took Hermione's suggestion seriously. The law requiring payment and insurance benefits for House-Elves had been passed some time later. Ron sighed impatiently, rummaging in his closet. Sometime later he emerged with a new set of robes (Gladrags Exclusive Men's Collection). He stepped into the bathroom, heading towards the shower. At the sound of his footsteps, warm water began to run, a thin waft of steam wafting out. He stepped into the spray reluctantly.

Ron was supposed to meet Fred and Angelina for dinner at their home. He really didn't want to go, considering the circumstances. He absentmindedly slid his wedding ring off his finger, placing it carefully in the corner of the soap dish. The lighter skin under the ring was a silent testament to Ron's reluctance to accept what had happened between him and Hermione. They were still married, after all. He ran his hand over a soap-slicked abdomen, not really wanting to finish the shower and get ready for another night out. The hardened muscles didn't share his sentiments, and they were clean after a few half-hearted scrubs. 'I want to stay home tonight...don't want to share this day with anyone else.' Ron scrubbed at his head, rinsing off any remaining shampoo. He stepped out of the shower and it clicked off immediately. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he tugged on his robes and gelled his hair. Staring into the mirror critically, he twisted his ring around slowly and regarded his features.

Most of his freckles were gone; a light sprinkling of them still showed up on the bridge of his nose but that was all. The carroty-red Weasley locks he had always sported had been bleached by the sun, fading a bit. Ron frowned at this, making a mental note to stop spending so much time in California. He didn't think he looked much like himself. Boyish features had filled out, chiselled by life's hardships. Ignoring the stubble still dotting his chin, Ron grabbed his wand from the dresser top and Apparated to Fred and Angelina's.

"Ron! How are you...What happened to your hair?" A sniggering Fred Weasley surveyed his younger brother mock-critically. "Not many freckles left...hair DEFINITELY not its right colour...have you been working out?"

"Leave him alone, Fred." Angelina poked her head out of the kitchen, where the sound of bubbling liquid could be heard. A mouth-watering smell emanated from the modest room, causing a loud growl to rumble out from someone's stomach.

"Was that you or me?" George popped into the living room, a large box under one arm. "Oh, and the File Trays have come in." An evil grin split his face as Katie Bell-Weasley appeared behind him. "We sent samples to Ginny and Percy...unmarked, of course." He spotted Ron. "What happened to your hair?"

"I think it looks good," Katie smiled and sank into a seat next to his. She placed a hand on her swollen abdomen. "I'd like this little one's hair to look like that...but then again, I always did have a thing for redheads."

"Did you, now?" Ron guffawed at Fred's suggestive advances. He wiggled his eyebrows, much to George's chagrin. "You never told me..."

"Angelina!"

"Cut it out, both of you." Trays of food preceded her, landing on the table with a soft bump. "Get the kids, would you, Fred?"

"KIDS!!" A great clattering noise sounded as the two Johnson-Weasleys ran down the stairs and into the dining room. Hayley and David, the next generation of twins, were a study in opposites. Hayley was bookish and outgoing; David was athletic yet bashful. The five-year-olds settled into the shorter-legged chairs, charmed so that they could sit and still reach the table. Hayley giggled delightedly as the legs stretched upwards until they were the size of the others. As the food was doled out, Ron watched his niece and nephew, oblivious to the concerned glances sent his way. After the kids were sent to bed and the adults indulged in a little drink, conversation turned towards him directly.

"Is something wrong?" Katie sat next to him on the squashy sofa, soft grey eyes meeting guarded, almost defiant cobalt blue ones.

"Not really." Ron stared into his glass broodingly. "Well...sort of."

"What is it?" she asked gently. "I don't want to pry, but-"

"It's our anniversary." He sat back in his seat, setting the drink down and twisting his wedding band. The act was unconscious for him, sort of a comfort gesture. "Another one I have to spend alone."

Fred turned abruptly from his position. He had been (pretending) to adjust the picture frames on the low table situated next to the recliner. "Ron, I know its only been five...six years now, but you have to get yourself together. You can't continue like this."

"What do you mean? I'm doing fine. I'm helping you two out with the Wheezes, got myself a pretty decent place to live, managed to make a bit of money-"

"There's more to life than that," George commented.

"So much more..." added Angelina.

"Are you all ganging up on me now?" Ron eyed them critically. "Look, I said I'm fine."

Judging by the looks on their faces they didn't believe him. The rest of the night passed by with delicate avoidance of the topic, and Ron was able to Floo home in peace.

Once at his flat, Ron shut himself up in his bedroom. He could hear the soft footsteps of his House-Elf cleaning up on the stairs and he stuck his head out of the door.

"You can take the rest of the week off, Blinken." The elf looked surprised.

"Master is sure he don't need Blinken?"

"Yeah...I'll be fine, thanks."

"So generous! So kind! I is so grateful, sir! Blinken go now." He bowed over and over as he made his way downstairs, maroon bathrobe trailing behind him. Ron re-shut the door. He ran agitated hands through his hair. Glimpsing the flash of wedding ring on his hand, he glanced at his reflection, now looking weary and haggard. He pulled off the ring, throwing it in a desk drawer. He then turned and ripped off anything with the remotest connection to his estranged wife. After an hour, there was a mound of artwork and photographs on the floor of the living room. There was only one thing left. Grabbing the snapshot of their wedding day set on the mantelpiece, he moved to toss it on top of the pile. It was a silver frame, the photo set in sepia tones. A smiling Ron had his arms around his wife's waist. They were oblivious to anyone around them, the first dance of the reception starting up. Hermione's face was tinged with pink, hair done up in an elegant bun. Her arms were twined around her husband's neck. Ron watched himself kiss his new bride, both glowing in sublime happiness. With an impatient gesture, he kept it with him as he banished the rest to the cellar. He placed it in the drawer of his Muggle entertainment centre, taking one last glimpse of the woman he thought would be his forever.

"Happy anniversary."