Separate Worlds

Chapter Eight

"Thanks for dinner...I had a good time."

"You're very welcome." Hermione was once again staring at her feet, with Seamus standing before her at the door. "Listen, there's something I want to ask..." Her mouth became very dry. "Want to get married?" She gaped. And gaped again.

"Wh-what?" For the past few months, Hermione had been trying to make some sense of her feelings. Seamus was a very handsome man, witty, intellectual, and dependable. She had been content to date him while she worked at Zonko's, Inc. She liked him, obviously, but she didn't know if she could imagine herself as his wife; As anyone's wife but Ron's.

"I'm already married."

"You could very easily file for a divorce; you've been separated for years now."

She wrung her hands desperately. "Yes, but..."

"Don't tell me you're still in love with him? Or do you not care for me enough?"

"Would you believe that I'm scared?" She replied, not answering either question. "I don't want to get burned again."

His eyes bored into hers, and she had the most uncomfortable feeling that he was trying to decipher her reply. "I wouldn't do that. I know it's a little soon, but I know that I'd love to spend the rest of my life with you." He reached out to stroke her cheek, and she just barely managed to hide the flinch threatening to splash across her face.

"I'll think about it, I promise." Hermione smiled at him as she opened the door. "I'll be at work tomorrow though, so don't try to call here."

"Alright. Good night." Seamus leaned forward and kissed her. There was no forewarning, no explanation. A soft, delicate kiss...

Hermione found she didn't quite like it. "Goodnight, Seamus." She closed the door behind her, a little disappointed.

*********

Her mind was still in shock over Seamus' sudden proposal as she stepped into her office the next morning.

"Dr. Granger. Er...Hermione?" Eliza ventured.

"Yes?" The woman slowly entered the room, levitating a small suitcase and cauldron behind her.

"I apologize for this, but Weasley's Wizard Wheezes asked us to do some research on Wolfsbane for an antidote to their newest product...and we all know who the Medicinal Potions master is here." Her head jerked up in surprise.

"Don't they have their own Medical staff?" Eliza gave her an indulgent look.

"Yes, but our specialty is in concocting antidotes to potentially embarrassing products...and they usually don't make those. So our rival companies help each other; their staff is great at prolonged effects."

I'll bet, Hermione thought. "So what are they trying to sell?"

"It's called the 'Exploding File Tray.' It's targeted at executives and other people who would hate to have their clients see them with the effects."

"Which are..."

"Well, when the tray explodes, it makes whoever was in the room with it assume the look of an House-Elf, Flobberworm, or Cornish Pixie at random. It hasn't been approved by the Ministry yet because the Wheezes have been 'testing' it on some of their siblings, who hold Ministry jobs." Hermione smothered a smile, imagining a Flobberworm with horn-rimmed glasses squeaking at Fred and George. "So it has to be sold with a quick antidote, so the person who got tricked wouldn't get too upset at the buyer."

"Ah. I see." Eliza set the suitcase and test tubes on Hermione's workstation. "I'll get right to it."

The younger, yet more experienced woman gave her a grateful look. "Thanks. I've been up to my ears in tests; those Screaming Quills are impossible to manufacture without becoming hoarse before shipments." She headed out the door, calling out over her shoulder, "Mr. Weasley should be here to collect the sample in about two hours."

The test tube Hermione was holding almost shattered, she was squeezing it so hard.

George? Here?

George was the one who was into the actual running of the company and he was often the one sent on business. She wondered how he'd react to her working at a rival joke company. Given, Zonko's was more established, but the Wheezes came up with some of the funniest new products on the market...'oh well,' she thought. They'd be just fine once they got over the initial shock. She removed a vial from the suitcase carefully, as not to disturb the coverings of the other chemicals. They would be ruined if exposed to light.

"Wolfsbane...Powdered owl feathers...Skin of scraggly-looking man..." She stirred feverishly at the cauldron; hardly noticing the minutes tick by.

"Hmm...Plumeria seed extract...and...a pinch of shredded dragonhide. That should do it." She regarded the potion with satisfaction and proceeded to dole it out to their unlucky test subject, who was looking remarkably like Winky the House-elf, albeit dressed in gigantic wizard's robes. She watched as the creature's features melted into human ones and he gave a great sigh of relief.

"Thank God! Where's my pay for this?"

"Front Office." The rather large man trundled out into the hall and Hermione poured the potion into a small glass vial; it would be reproduced in larger quantities at the Wheezes.
She turned to the mirror hanging in the washroom impatiently and critically surveyed her appearance. Before, when she was poor as dirt and still in school, she had to make do with cheap, slightly shabby clothes from the sales rack at lower-quality department stores. Now that she had money, she found more and more excuses to visit the trendier, more expensive designer boutiques scattered throughout Cedar-Hedge Alley, a rather moneyed division connected to Diagon and Knockturn. The soft lavender robes she was wearing now flattered her figure quite nicely, the sleek, smooth lines showing off her slender curves...she was thinner than before. She took off her lab coat and raked her fingers through her hair, letting a few curls escape the chopsticks stuck thorough the loose bun she had made; she had cut it shorter and it was now only shoulder-length. 'Muggles make such ingenious hair accessories', she thought.

"He'll be here any minute now, Hermione." Eliza called as she passed by.

"All right." She set the case on her desk with trembling hands. Would he even recognize her? She hadn't said goodbye to any of her in-laws; just packed up and left in a hurry. Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself when a sharp knock sounded on the other end of the door. "Come in."

The man who entered the room was redheaded, certainly, but not George...and not Fred, either. He stepped into the room confidently, and Hermione felt her heart drop to her feet.

"Ron!"

But was it really? His voice was similarly confident, stronger than she remembered it. "Hermione. This is a surprise; I thought you were in the States."

"I've been back for a few months." She answered, trying as hard as she could to maintain some kind of dignity and not stare at him like a desperate groupie. The unruly hair was gone, replaced by a sleek, short cut. His dress robes were a deep blue, matched with a similarly coloured tie. They accentuated his trim, cut figure and the fine material stamped success all over him. His face was chiselled and clean-shaven, any last traces of boyhood gone. Ron cleared his throat significantly and a blush crept up into her cheeks, aware that he had seen her looking.

"What are you doing in this place?" His tone of voice was disdainful as he glanced around her office.

"I work for Seamus Finnigan." Hermione watched as a muscle in his jaw tightened.

"That's damned awkward." She didn't care what he or the twins thought. They could go screw themselves.

"Extremely awkward," He repeated. He reached up and ran a finger under the collar of his dress shirt, loosening the tie discreetly. The old Ron hated to have anything around his neck when he was angry or uncomfortable, and he would undo his tie right in the middle of important meetings; he just barely managed to keep it on at their wedding. She remembered untying it for him at the hotel later, coyly tugging at it as he came closer, hands sliding across the newly bared skin of her back, hungrily kissing him after she pulled it off, his lips trailing down to her neck and lower...

"This is for George," She said abruptly, picking up the case containing the vial.

"George?"

"He was supposed to fetch it here... guess you were supposed to come get it for him."

The corners of his mouth twitched, more in an ironical expression than a smile. "Well, I did come to collect the potion, but George quit the business side of the operation soon after-" the hesitation lasted only a split second, "after you left."

Hermione was temporarily at a loss for words. She was stunned. "So YOU'RE the Mr. Weasley that owns the Wizard Wheezes?"

He shrugged. "Not the owner...the Managing Director." Seeing the confused look on her face, he explained, "It's the person that runs the business part of the deal...I guess I finally resorted to 'family pity,' as you would say." She didn't recoil at his statement; it WAS something that she would have said. She knew now, however, that Ron was there not because his family wanted to get him a job, but because it was something he cared about and was skilled at. After all, running a business was rather like chess...strategic sacrifice and risks were the name of the game. She recounted the various reprimands he got while working at the Ministry. Perhaps he had been right in thinking that Ministry work wasn't for him.

"I...I didn't know you were so successful," she faltered as her caramel-brown eyes met his cool, watchful blue ones. She saw no desire flaring in them, and felt the chill to her very soul.

"I didn't think you'd have known, as we didn't exactly communicate these past five years," he answered in a flat tone.

"I wrote to you once," She retorted almost defiantly. He made a dismissive sound in reply.

"To tell me that you would be staying in America for a few more years."

"You still could have owled me."

"There wasn't anything to say, exactly...You left ME, not the other way around."

By now the old Ron would have been red in the face, yelling his arse off. Yet he was calm, and cool, and unmoved. She wanted to rattle him. "How could I have forgotten? By the way, how IS Fleur?"

"She's fine." The casual tone of his voice angered her still more. Although she was dying of curiosity, she would never consider asking him about his relationship with the woman. It's not like she cared, right? The frantic beating of her heart, and the longing ache in her limbs, as if she felt compelled to run to him, told a different story.

It's all lust, she chided. Ron's as handsome as ever; perhaps even more so, and I'm a normal red-blooded witch. It's nothing to do with love. It'll all disappear once I'm free to marry Seamus.

Satisfied with her logic, she leaned back in her chair. "Now that we're here, I'd like to discuss our divorce. If you don't want to file for it, I will."

He glanced downwards at the carpet, as though it was the most interesting thing in the world and said,

"I'd rather you didn't."