Casus Belli

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Casus Belli

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Chapter III: Try

"I wish I hadn't seen all of the realness

And all the real people are really not real at all

The more I learn the more I cry

As I say goodbye to the way of life

I thought I had designed for me"

Try

Written and sung by Nelly Furtado

---

"Hermione?" a masculine voice whispered from outside Ron Weasley's bedroom door. A tanned hand knocked on the orange wood of the doorframe. "Hermione, are you awake yet?"

"Um... no, go away," Hermione grumbled, pulling a large, egg-shell white pillow from her side and smashing her face into it. "I fell asleep three bloody hours ago, and yesterday was most certainly not a good day."

"I know Hermione, but it's almost noon, and Remus sent me to wake you up."

Hermione grunted moodily, and pushed her face harder into the pillow to the point where her nose ached. "No. Tell Remus to mind his own fucking business. I haven't slept enough yet and I am not going to get up. Feel free to come back in another four or five hours."

The black-haired man sighed, and pulled a yellow hairpin out of his pocket. Ron had locked him out too many times for him not to know how to open the door when not wanted. He jammed the pin into the lock and pushed it left and right. Moments later, the lock clicked open and Harry pushed the door ajar, just in time to catch an improperly clothed Hermione kicking the sheets off.

"HARRY!" she screeched as she pulled the tattered covers over her fully exposed body. "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Harry averted his eyes, his cheeks turning desperately scarlet. Though Harry had seen Hermione without clothes on before (thought completely by accident and completely without her knowledge), he was not prepared to be greeted by her naked body again. Time was nothing if not good to Hermione, and he found himself wanting to gaze just a little bit longer.

Harry groped blinding for the rusty door handle, his other hand plastered over his green eyes. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and, to his intense dissatisfaction, arousal. "Sorry, sorry. I'll wait outside."

"OUT HARRY!"

---

Ten minutes later, Hermione emerged from the bedroom clothed in a pair of boxers and an oversized white shirt. Her hair had been tamed by a single wire comb, and her feet were covered by warm black slippers. Her eyes were still bloodshot from poor sleep, and her back ached terribly from tossing and turning during the night hours.

Hermione glanced around and saw Harry leaning against the wall, reading what appeared to be a very threadbare version of Edith Hamilton's Mythology. He wore a faded burgundy rugby shirt and jeans that had seen too much time in a washing machine. He stood taller than she remembered, his height closing in on six feet by her guesstimate. She also noted that Harry was noticeable skinnier, something that worried her as she thought Harry too thin five years ago.

He turned as he saw her and flashed a tired grin. "Good afternoon."

Hermione smiled wearily back, too tired to attempt to tell Harry off.

"So..." she started, looking around for any unwanted spectators, "aren't we supposed to hug awkwardly or something like that?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd let me," Harry replied, closing the book and placing it on the ground, his eyes shimmering with oncoming tears.

He walked over to the woman and slid his arms around her midsection, holding her close. Hermione, overtaken by the emotion that Harry could extract after all those years, put her head on his chest, and began to cry softly. Harry held her, his own tears sliding down his cheeks into her matted brown locks.

"We... I've missed you, Hermione," Harry whispered as he patted her back. Hermione kept crying. "I never thought that I'd see you again."

"That was kind of the point," Hermione whispered back, forcing out a pained giggle.

"Yeah. I guess it was."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither daring to say anything for fear of the other leaving. Harry stroked the nape of Hermione's neck with his weathered hands, her chocolate curls dancing across the tops of his hands. Hermione, in turn, ran her hands about his back, weeping all the while.

"Did I miss something?"

Hermione and Harry jumped apart, blushing ever so slightly. Remus stood at the end of the hall, a smirk plastered on his face. "Good to see that you're finally awake, Hermione. We were beginning to wonder if you were dead in there."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Hermione retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "And by the way, is it your sincere expectation that I be at your beck and call while I stay here? Because, if this is the case, please tell me in advance so I can berate you now instead of later."

"Down girl!" Remus said, laughing heartily at Hermione's repulsed expression. "You better watch this one Harry; she bites!"

"Funny, Remus. You're a fucking comic genius. I'm laughing, really I am. Anyway, I'm waiting to hear why your chose to wake me after kidnapping me. Have you no respect for people around you at all?"

"I do, though it appears as if somebody in this room does not."

"Drop it," Hermione growled.

Remus dropped it.

"Anyway, from what I understand, you were apprehended at your flat in a rather... unconventional manner. If I was informed correctly, and I'm not saying that I am, you took absolutely nothing with you?"

"That's correct. In fact, those two idiots took me while I was only in my bathrobe."

"Smart wizards," Remus commented.

"Make one more comment like that Remus Lupin, and you'll never be able to have children again. I will single handedly make sure of that." Hermione gestured suggestively, and Harry howled with laughter.

Remus shook his head. "Anyway, in light of this, I thought that it might be prudent for Harry to take you back to your flat to retrieve some clothing and any other things you might need during your stay here. Unless, of course, you are more comfortable wearing Ron's night clothes...?" He motioned towards her borrowed boxers and shirt.

"That's the first good suggestion you've made since I've been here," Hermione answered. "Make more suggestions like that and living with me might not be that unpleasant."

"Just make sure that you don't get any funny ideas and try to run away. Harry here is considered the most powerful wizard in the world right now and I'd hate to see what kind of hex he could throw your way."

"Harry would never hex me."

"You're not the only one who has changed, Hermione," Harry interjected. "Now let's get going before it starts to snow again."

---

"Are you sure that you don't want to drive?" Hermione asked anxiously, eyeing the dilapidated Firebolt that stood in front of her.

Harry bobbed his head, still utterly amused at Hermione's fear of flight. "Positive."

"Take the underground?"

"Not today."

"Walk? It's probably only a day's walk if we hurry."

"Flying isn't all that bad, Hermione," Harry pressed, casting a Disillusionment spell over himself and Hermione.

She shook her head in a mixture of disgust, fear, and resentment. "How very wrong you are."

---

One hour and countless prayers to God, Buddha, Allah, and every other deity she was familiar with, Hermione touched her feet to the ground and kissed the door that led into her flat. Harry lifted the Disillusionment spell from himself, Hermione, and his broom and put his wand in his back pocket.

"We better make this quick," Harry commented as he watched Hermione look helplessly at the front door.

"Those absolutely idiots!" Hermione screamed, hammering her fists into the blue wood.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione turned around and looked at Harry, anger evident in her eyes. "When Fred and George kidnapped me yesterday, those idiots didn't let me bring anything."

"Obviously."

"Anything implies my keys as well."

"No problem. I'll just Apparate in."

Hermione knocked her forehead against the door. "I was afraid that you were going to say that..."

"What's wrong with Apparating inside?"

"Fred and George Apparated on top of my china collection yesterday. I'm not too keen on seeing what you'll Apparate onto."

"Have a little faith, Hermione."

"I haven't had faith in a long time."

Hermione's answer bothered Harry. He glanced at the brunette woman as she folded her arms across her breasts. Her eyes, once warm and full of curiosity, were now murky with painful knowledge. Even the way that she carried herself had changed. She had once been slightly self-conscious; Hermione was now filled with an arrogance that came from complete self-assurance. This new Hermione also exuded bitterness, a far cry from her former self.

Harry sighed. Hermione was something he had tried unsuccessfully to put out of his mind for the past five years, and now, having her here so close to him, was nothing short of torture. He never understood why Hermione left in the first place; she had given no indication that she was discontent. All that Harry knew was Hermione left in the middle of the night and left nothing but a note saying that she would never return.

Harry suspected that Ron knew something that he wasn't keen on sharing. He had been hit harder with the news of Hermione's departure than anybody else. He knew that Ron and Hermione had been dating prior to Hermione leaving, and Harry had a feeling that this, if not the single reason why she had left, had been a serious factor in her decision to end her affiliation with magical beings.

"Hello? Earth to Mister Potter?" Hermione's hand waved feverishly in front of Harry's nose, annoyance apparent in her tone. Harry stepped back, his thoughts cut short. "Are you going in or not?"

He pushed her hand away. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going already." And with that he Apparated inside, landing on her dresser and knocking down (what he hoped was not) a terribly expensive mirror.

"Seven years bad luck," Harry grumbled as he fumbled through Hermione's flat, noting the dark linens and almost gothic feel to the rooms. Even her furniture's upholstery was leather, a material reserved for the more eccentric and wealthy people of London. He came into her foyer, and reached for a set of brass keys that lay next to the door. He carefully placed the key marked "HOME" into the lock, and twisted it clockwise.

"Took you long enough," Hermione remarked sourly. "I've been waiting forever."

"Me too," Harry thought aloud as he watched Hermione slink into her bedroom, his eyes trailing her body with interest. "Me too."

---

"You sure take a lot of medication for a twenty-one-year-old," Harry commented much later as he watched Hermione shovel what seemed like an inordinate amount of prescription drugs from her bathroom's shelf into her toiletries bag.

"I inherited nothing from my parents but an affinity for blood diseases and a history of heart failure." Hermione spat the words out as if they tasted rancid, her eyes focusing on the tiny printed words on the prescription label. "This is the result of that inheritance."

"Do you need these?" Harry inquired, holding up a black disk of pills.

"Oops! I almost forgot!" Hermione reached over and grabbed the disk out of Harry's hand. She looked at it for a moment and pushed a single pill out of place.

"What are those for?"

"Birth control," Hermione replied, chuckling at the horrified expression plastered on Harry's face as she popped one of the blue pills into her mouth and swallowed. "I'm an adult now, and I should be able to have as much animal sex as I want without consequence."

Harry almost fainted.

---

"Aren't you ready yet?" Harry called from the foyer. He had given up on trying to help Hermione pack her things (the less he saw and he knew, the better, in Harry opinion), and thus resigned himself to pawning through Hermione's trinkets.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming already!" Hermione reappeared in the doorway rolling along a large suitcase and carrying an open animal carrier.

Harry quickly stuffed Hermione's address book into his jacket pocket. She looked at him suspiciously, and he gave her a blank smile.

"For Crookshanks?" he guessed, trying to rid himself of his guilt at taking Hermione's personal belonging.

"No, for James."

"James?"

At the sound of his name, a small beagle bounded into the room, attacking Harry's left shoe. Harry jumped from his spot on the couch, taken completely by surprise. The beagle nipped playfully at his shoelaces, undeterred.

"Crookshanks passed on a year ago," Hermione explained, picking up the puppy, and petting its underside lightly. "I wasn't really eager to buy another cat, so I adopted cute little James instead."

"He is adorable," Harry agreed. "But why the name James?"

"I don't know," Hermione responded slowly, putting the dog in the carrier. The puppy curled up in a small ball, yawned, and drifted off into a deep slumber. "It just seemed like a charming name. I'm not terribly creative when it comes to naming things, and I absolutely refuse to call my pets after some sort of food."

The green-eyed man laughed at her cynicism. "I've missed you, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head and frowned. "I'm not back Harry. Not really."

---

Hours later, after returning to the Burrow from her London flat and changing into jeans and a sweater, Hermione pulled on her winter coat and slipped out of the Burrow's front door. The icy wind hit her face, and she plastered her feet to the narrow road that lead behind the Weasley house.

Hermione walked slowly, dread creeping into her as she reached the small cemetery that sat outside the Burrow. She walked amongst the gravestones, looking for the one that bore her best female friend's name. She came upon in moments later, and felt her insides run cold.

Made out of simple grey and white marble and standing less than a half-meter high, Ginny's headstone stood near the edge of the Weasley property that bordered on a deep forest. Small white flowers lined the gravestone, enchanted to outlast the cold winter months. The stone itself was slightly marred by the winter weather, dirt crawling up the edges, and pieces of the stone chipping off.

Hermione bent down to the stone, and extracted a single blue handkerchief from her pocket. She tenderly cleaned the gravestone with the handkerchief, tears rolling down her cheeks as she ran over the weather-beaten name and engravings.

"Oh Ginny," she whispered as she stroked the full length of the name. "Ginny, I'm so sorry that this happened to you. You... you were one of my best friends and there was nothing I could do about this. I'm so sorry that I never said goodbye. I... I hope you know how much I loved you. You didn't deserve this. I deserved this. I should be the one in there, not you, Ginny. Not you."

Stepping back, Hermione took in the few words upon Ginny's headstone.

Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley

Beloved daughter, sister, friend, and fiancée

You are in our minds and hearts always

4 August 1981- 25 December 1998

"Fiancée?"

"Yes, fiancée," a voice behind her said. Hermione felt blood rush about her head. She knew that voice all too well. The hairs on the back of her neck stuck up, and she rose from her kneeling position at the grave.

"Ron..." she pleaded.

The redhead ignored her and stepped forward, eyes slightly clouded by the predecessor to tears. "Ginny was engaged to Neville Longbottom. She died before they even set a wedding date. She was going to call you up to be her maid of honor. She was sure that you'd say yes. She was so excited about hearing you again."

"Oh Ron..."

Ron shifted his weight. "It's been a long time, Hermione. Too long."

"Forever is a long time, Ron. And forever wouldn't have been long enough."

Sighing, Ron took valiant step forward and put his hand confidently on her back. Blood rushed to her head and she felt vaguely faint. Ron Weasley, she was reminded as his hand traveled the breadth of her neck, still made her feel like a lovesick sixteen-year-old.

"Where's our child?" he whispered, his lips hovering over her ear.

Hermione turned from Ginny's grave, eyes full of blue tears. "There is no child. Not anymore."

Ron's face turned pale. "You... you didn't. You...Hermione, you..."

Hermione shook her head. "You have made me into a murderess."

Ron stepped back, dropped his hand, and staggered. Tears formed in the pockets of his eyes. "Hermione, what happened to you? How could you do something like that? That's not the Hermione I knew."

"Things change."

"You loved me!" Ron hissed irately, grabbing her hand and pulling her close. "I loved you and you loved me! How could you do this to somebody that you love?"

Tears began to creep into the corners of Hermione's chocolate eyes. "You're absolutely right, Ron. I did love you." She pushed him away, wringing her hands. "I loved you more than anything. I married you for God's sake! I'm your fucking wife! Did you ever tell anybody about that? Did you ever tell Ginny? Harry?"

Ron shook his head slowly.

She sank onto the snow-covered grass. "I can't even have a decent relationship because I'm always thinking about you. I feel so guilty when I make love to somebody. Like I'm betraying you. I loved you, Ron Weasley. I would have died for you." A pathetic smile seeped onto her lips. "In a way, I think I did die for you. I left my life for you, Ron. I left a place I loved and many of the people I loved, too."

"I never asked you to leave, Hermione."

"But you did! If I had stayed with you, had kept the child, you know what would have happened? I would have become your mother."

Ron looked confused.

Hermione groaned. "Not literally, you prat! You think they want to take a seventeen-year-old witch with a child into medical or law school? Of course not! I would have become a little housewife with nothing better to do than cook dinner for my husband and have children!"

"You don't know that! Things would have been different with us, Hermione. I would have given you everything! I would have made sure that you still had your career and your independence!"

"That's what you think! But I know you! You've been raised in a family where the words 'woman' and 'housewife' are synonymous. You say that you would have given me my independence, but you couldn't!

"You think that there weren't moments when I thought of keeping the child, thought of raising it myself? Well there were, but I knew that it meant that I would have to take some dime-and nickel job and leave my schooling forever!"

"But you did leave school!" Ron protested.

Hermione laughed apathetically. "I may have left Hogwarts, Ron, but I did go to regular school afterward. True, I was a little behind when I came in, but I got into the best law university in the UK. I'm an attorney now, Ron. I make sure that when women divorce their scumbag husbands that they get every fucking pound their ex-husbands are worth. And when the women get their money, I get forty percent."

"This can't be happening," Ron cried out into the air. "This is a nightmare. This can't be you, Hermione, it just can't be. You're... you're not you anymore. You're somebody else, somebody with a whole lot of issues. This... this can't be the Hermione I was... I am in love with." Ron took a seat on the ground next to Hermione and took her hand. "Please, say this is some sort of cruel joke."

She pushed him aside and stood up. "I guess the joke's on you."

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