Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Eight: Missed Messages

Hermione sat in the waiting room of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Past and Future Events. Her interview was scheduled for half past nine, and she was early. She smiled at the secretary, who kept giving her uneasy looks, and tried not to roll her eyes. Deirdre Givens looked like she was afraid Hermione was after her job. As if Hermione had spent the past seven years studying to type letters and screen owls for someone else. No, she had much bigger plans. She smiled a bit as she thought again about her publishing deal. She would have to tell Ron about it today.

...That is, if Ron was still around when she got home. Her stomach dropped, and her mouth went dry at the mere thought of his not being there. What if last night had meant nothing to him? What if he hadn't understood her note? She supposed it had been a bit abrupt. In her attempts to not sound bossy or demanding, had she gone overboard the other way and made it seem as if she didn't care? What if he read it and thought she was a heartless wench? What if he left? What if he hated her?

Hermione stood suddenly, consumed with the need to make sure Ron would be there when she got home. She needed to get to the nearest owl post - wasn't there one in this building? She thought she had read that there was. She would just run up and send Ron an owl before her interview. She was early, and the Ministry was almost always late. She had time, if she did it now.

She had just pulled out her wand to apparate when the large, imposing oak door opened. "Miss Granger?" Deirdre asked in her rather squeaky voice. "They're ready for you now."

***

Ron flung himself out of the bed and got dressed. "Nice to see you?" he grumbled. "Talk to you later?" He jammed his feet into his shoes angrily. "NICE TO SEE YOU?!!" he shouted, unable to contain his anger any longer. Even though no one was in the flat, Ron had to vent his ire. "Honestly, Hermione, what the bloody hell are you playing at here?" He grumbled to himself again. "Probably does this all the time. Nice private flat for a fling. I just happened to be convenient. Good shag for old times' sake. Bed's not too soft - she probably doesn't want anyone getting comfortable and staying." Again he shouted at the woman who wasn't there. "But to leave without a word, 'Mione? Little bit beneath you, don't you think?" He grabbed his wand and pointed it to the parchment Hermione had left on the pillow. "Well, two can play at that." The words on the parchment changed, and Ron nodded grimly. Muttering, "...knew I shouldn't have come back..." he apparated out of the flat, leaving it completely devoid of his presence, save for the bit of parchment sitting on the pillow.

Hermione -

Had a good time. See you around.

Love, Ron

***

Hermione swallowed nervously, then straightened her shoulders. She was here for an important interview, which could lead to a superior position within the Ministry. She would deal with Ron later. Surely he wouldn't leave before they could talk. Whoever heard of someone leaving the love of his life after a night like they had? Thus clearing her head, she gathered her portfolio and went into the office.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," said the man behind the large glass-topped desk. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Hermione was shocked, but managed to hide it well. "Professor Mahir! What a pleasant surprise!" It wasn't really. Fahd Mahir had been Hermione's least favorite Arithmancy professor at university. He was exacting and demanding and unfair in a way that made Severus Snape seem practically angelic by comparison. He'd taken a liking to Hermione, though (probably because she never answered a question incorrectly), and had encouraged her throughout her studies. She had to admit she'd learned a great deal from Professor Mahir, but the idea of working under him for the foreseeable future turned her stomach. She sat in the purposely low chair offered to her and waited for the interview to begin.

***

Ron flew above the clouds toward St. Mungo's Hospital. Flying helped him clear his head, and he took a side route. He didn't want to meet Harry and Ginny still fuming about Hermione. As a result, it took him nearly an hour to arrive at St. Mungo's.

"Ron?"

He smiled down at his only sister, now a mother, looking like a painting of the Madonna and Child with baby James in her arms. He kissed her forehead. "Congratulations, Gin. You're going to be a wonderful mother."

"Ron?" she persisted.

But he would have none of it. Ginny was too perceptive, and if he let her say something, he'd end up blurting out the whole story, and Ron was still too angry to talk about Hermione with her best girl friend. "Can I hold him?" he asked, holding out his hands for the baby. Ginny handed over her sleeping son, and Ron caught the knowing look in his sister's eyes.

"Ron." This time it wasn't a request. Ginny spoke with the authority of a long-suffering sister who would tolerate no nonsense from her long-lost brother. Ron could tell that she was beginning to lose her temper. Apparently, motherhood hadn't diminished Ginny's famous temper. Ron may have had a short temper, but his anger was nothing compared to Ginny at the end of her rope. "Where's Hermione?"

***

At that moment, Hermione was shaking her former professor's hand and thanking him for his time. "I'll look for your owl, then, Professor," she told him. She sighed her thanks when the door closed. "Finally!" she mumbled, closing up her portfolio. She turned to the secretary. "Excuse me, Ms. Givens. Is there an owl post in this building?"

"Yes. On the roof."

Hermione barely lost an instant thanking the nervous-looking secretary before she rushed out of the office, up the stairs, to the post counter. The decrepit old man at the desk looked as though he could barely manage a quill, let alone a host of owl messengers. But Hermione couldn't waste her thoughts on doubts. She felt as though this was her last chance to reach Ron before he disappeared out of her life again. Over the course of her interview, she had decided without question that her note of this morning had been cold, unfeeling, and utterly horrid. She only hoped Ron hadn't read it yet.

"Beg your pardon," she began, catching the postman's attention. "I would like to send an owl." Not waiting for his assent, Hermione took up quill and ink and parchment and wrote a new letter to Ron.

Dear Ron,

I must write quickly, so this owl can reach you before you leave for the US. So I shall write only this: Please don't go.

Love, Hermione

Though far from satisfied with the words she'd written, Hermione checked the parchment quickly for spelling and grammar and gave it to the postman. "Ron Weasley, please." With any luck, the owl would find him before he left, and he would read between the lines and wait for Hermione. She hoped. Then they could talk, and she could confess her lo-

"That'll be five Sickles, two Knuts, Miss," the postman interrupted. Hermione dug the requisite money out of her purse and even gave the poor old man a tip to hurry her message along.

***

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gin," Ron protested weakly. "Didn't Hermione tell you she'd be by later?" His ears turned red when she gave him a look.

"You stayed with her last night, didn't you?" Before Ron could deny it, Ginny continued, "Ron, please. Remember that you're not the first brother to come visit today. Besides, Mum and Dad asked Harry where you'd gone last night, since you weren't at home." Ron cursed his gossipy family. Ginny smirked. "So where is she now?" She narrowed her eyes at her favorite - and most irritating - brother. "Or didn't you two get around to talking?"

Ron wondered when his baby sister had gotten so smart.

***

Once her owl was in the air, Hermione's heart felt much lighter. Since it was nearly noon, she decided to take herself over to the Leaky Cauldron for a bite of dinner. She had some time before her afternoon appointment, and she hoped to hear from Ron over her afternoon meal. When an hour had passed with no sight of the owl she had sent, she decided to wait another hour, and ordered a glass of pumpkin juice to nurse while she waited.

After two more hours had passed, though, even stubborn Hermione Granger couldn't wait any longer. All hope drained out of her as she rose from her seat to pay her tab. Three hours ago she had entered the pub with a light heart and happy thoughts of some sort of a future with Ron. It would have been difficult, apologizing and admitting she'd been wrong, but Hermione thought she could stand even that.

Now it was clear. Ron hated her. It didn't take three hours for an owl to get to her flat and back, no matter what the weather. No, it was clear. Either Ron had received her owl and didn't care, or he had already returned to America. Either way, she wouldn't see him again. She sighed - as she always did when she thought about Ron - and left the Leaky Cauldron.

Her second appointment for the day was in Diagon Alley, and she would just make it if she hurried. Forcing her mind to other things, she shook her head and squared her shoulders and walked toward Flourish & Blotts. Her publisher, Archimedes Welby, wanted to meet with her there, to discuss the marketing scheme for her book. She needed to be in the right frame of mind for such a meeting.

***

Ron had to get out of here. In the past few hours, he'd been subjected to Ginny's angry tirade, his mother's tsk-tsking (and he thought at least his mother would be on his side), and his brothers' joking comments. Even Harry - who usually tried to stay out of the way when it came to Ron and Hermione's relationship - had had a couple of "helpful suggestions" for his brother-in-law. It was enough to drive Ron crazy and make him think longingly of his work in Washington. But he'd promised Ginny he'd help her take Jamie home, and she wasn't scheduled to leave St. Mungo's until tomorrow morning.

He went outside, to get away from his family and collect his thoughts, and didn't notice the chill in the air. He sat down on the nearest bench and groaned. Why did this always happen to him? Why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone less complicated? Someone like Lavender Brown, or that American girl who'd had such a crush on him at university - Mimi Lucas. But no, Ron had to go and give his heart irrevocably to the most irritating witch in Britain. Honestly. What was wrong with him?

Harry Potter cleared his throat and sat down next to his best friend. Though he hadn't seen Ron in seven years, the pair had kept in touch via owls and e-mail - far better than Ron had kept up with Hermione. "Look, mate," he began. "I suppose I should have told you we'd asked Hermione to be Jamie's godmother."

Ron looked incredulously at his childhood friend. "You think?" he asked sarcastically. His time in the States had improved Ron's cynical vocabulary tenfold. Then he shook his head. "Forget it, Harry. 'S my fault for getting involved with her again."

Harry narrowed his eyes, then pronounced with all the wisdom of new fatherhood, "You still love her, don't you?"

Ron gazed out across the wooded lawn in front of St. Mungo's, unwilling to answer the question that had plagued him since he left Hermione's flat that morning.

***

Hermione felt a little better when she left Flourish & Blotts, and she apparated to St. Mungo's maternity ward determined to put on a brave face for her friends. She would coo over Jamie like a good godmother, share her book news with a determined cheer, and pretend Ron hadn't affected her in the least. For she was certain that he had left by this time.

So decided, Hermione knocked on Ginny's door and went in.

After handing her baby to his godmother, Ginny didn't even give her friend a second to get comfortable. In a decidedly bossy tone that could only belong to a mother, she demanded to know, "Do you still love my brother or not, Hermione Granger?" Hermione couldn't mask her shock at such a question, and in an instant her facade crumbled. She told Ginny everything.

Neither of them noticed a very confused owl fluttering past the window.