Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Nine: Ruddy Owl

The owl, battered and lost, finally dropped from the air to the ground at the feet of the red-haired man sitting outside St. Mungo's. He looked at the owl, surprised, then looked at his friend. The dark-haired man shrugged, and the redhead bent down to take the message from the owl. He gave two bronze knuts to the owl, and read the note.

Ron's head shot up as he finished reading. His blue eyes were bright, and his face was flushed. "She doesn't want me to go, Harry." He leapt up from the bench and let out a wild whoop, crushing the note in his hand and throwing it to his friend. "Go on. Read it. See what she says." He picked up the bedraggled owl and almost kissed it before collecting himself. He instead pet its heaving chest and promised it a worthy meal before it went its way.

Harry adjusted his glasses and shrugged. He'd read the note Hermione sent Ron, and he didn't see anything close to a declaration of undying love in it. But, he reminded himself, this was Hermione and Ron. They seemed to go by contraries. And it did say, "Please don't go." "So what are you going to do now, mate?"

"Now?" Ron shook his head slowly. He had no idea what to do next.

Harry tried not to laugh - and failed. "Go find her, Ron, you git. I'll tell Ginny you'll come round tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? Right...er, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I should just tell Ginny myself and be done with it. She's going to gloat for weeks when I tell her she was right, so I might as well get it over with." Ron's ears turned red with a mix of embarrassment and nerves. When it came to proving Ron wrong, Ginny had grown too like Hermione - she took great pleasure in it.

Harry nodded slowly, a bit surprised. "You sure?"

"I'll go up now, then try to find Hermione." He remembered the note he'd left on Hermione's bed that morning, and his urgency grew. If she found it - if she read it - she'd hate him. She'd be furious. She'd probably hex him. He had to get to that note before she did. Without taking leave of Harry, he disappeared toward the hospital, toward Ginny's room.

Ron hurried down the hall toward his sister's room, but slowed when he noticed her door was open. He assumed she was gone, perhaps in the nursery seeing to Jamie, but he heard someone speaking, a voice he recognized well. Hermione? Here? Though it was supposedly beneath him, Ron did not hesitate to step closer to the open door. Taking care to stay out of sight, he listened in.

***

Hermione knew she shouldn't pour out all her problems on Ginny. It wasn't exactly fair. After all, Ginny had a newborn son to look after, an Auror husband to worry about, and an evil Dark Lord to avoid. The last thing she needed to hear about was Hermione's pathetic love life. But she'd asked, Hermione reminded herself. Ginny had asked if Hermione still loved Ron. How else could she answer? A simple yes or no would never do. "Do I love your brother?" she repeated, looking into space, casting about for an answer. "Do I love Ron? I...I don't know, Ginny."

Ginny, in all the wisdom of new motherhood, sat back in her bed and waited. She knew that this was going to be a long talk. Hermione would try to make sense of her feelings, trap them in some logical formation, like a mathematic equation. Ginny had to remind herself to be patient with her friend.

Hermione waved her hands ineffectually around the room. "It's just...so...Ginny, he left me seven years ago. Just up and left because he was a bit angry with me. If you had asked me a week ago if I still loved Ron, I'd say no. How could I love someone I haven't seen in seven years? Not even a word in all that time to say hello, I'm sorry, or anything!"

"Give him a break, 'Mione. You know Ron was nursing a broken heart."

"He was nursing a broken heart? Ron was?" she asked incredulously, her voice rising a bit with her temper. "He disappeared for seven years because I said I wouldn't marry him when I was seventeen? Honestly, Ginny. If Harry had proposed to you when you left Hogwarts, would you have said yes?" Ginny was silent. "Given up Cambridge, Ginny?" Hermione prompted. "Tied yourself down with a house and husband and child before you were old enough to really be certain it was what you wanted?" She watched her friend. "Ginny?"

The younger woman smiled. "It's different, Hermione. I've been in love with Harry since before I met him. I would have married him when he graduated from Hogwarts, if Mum and Dad and Professor Dumbledore would have allowed me to be married at sixteen." Hermione looked horrified, and Ginny explained. "Don't get me wrong - I will always be glad I went to Cambridge, and I'll want Jamie to go to university, too. But Hermione, if Harry had asked me...I would have said yes without blinking."

Hermione was scandalized. Give up education? For Harry? Or in her case, for Ron? "You can't mean it!" Now it was Ginny's turn to look scandalized. Hermione quickly amended her statement. "I mean, I was just too young when we graduated from Hogwarts to think about getting married. And so was Ron. He wasn't being sensible." She noticed Ginny's eyebrows shoot up at that word, but Hermione nodded. "Yes, sensible. Being in love is all very well in its place, but what were we supposed to live on? Ron would never take handouts from someone else - not that I can blame him - so we would have ended up poor and miserable, both working at posts we hated, just so we could afford rent and a cup of tea on cold nights. In such a situation, it would only have been a matter of time before one row became two or three or four or...Ginny, we would have been fighting all the time." She shared a knowing grin with her friend. "Don't say it. Ron and I didn't fight all the time. Most of the time, yes, but not always.

"And then, imagine bringing a child into that. Or, knowing Ron, several children." Hermione blushed, remembering the previous night. Ginny watched Hermione's cheeks turn bright red and thought that if she'd had any doubt about where Ron stayed last night, that blush answered her questions. "It would have been just one more thing to fight about. We would have ended up hating each other. I didn't want that."

"But that's what happened anyway," Ginny pointed out. Hermione shot a surprised glance at her. When had Ginny become so sensible? That was supposed to be Hermione's job. She shook her head. It seemed that lately everyone else was being sensible. Ginny continued, "You haven't spoken to each other in seven years. What did you gain by refusing Ron back then?"

Hermione stared at her friend as if Ginny had suddenly sprouted a second head, covered in green scales. "What have I gained? Are you daft? I am a scholar, Ginny Potter. I have been published by several of the best magical journals in Europe, and I am about to publish my first book. And -" She stopped suddenly, shocked at the words that had come to the tip of her tongue.

"And what?"

"And..." Should she say it? Dare she? Was it really true? Ginny would tell Harry, and Harry would no doubt tell Ron the next time he sent an owl to America. Ron would probably just laugh at her. Hermione amended her thoughts and said softly, "I don't hate Ron."

A rather disgusted sound came from the glowing young mother as she surveyed her hard-headed friend. Even Ron was less stubborn! I don't hate Ron, Ginny mimicked in her mind. Honestly. A dozen questions fought to be spoken, questions like, "Do you often sleep with men you just 'don't hate' Hermione?" For Ginny knew very well that Ron had stayed at Hermione's flat last night. She knew equally as well that Hermione had no place for Ron to sleep except that hard, uncomfortable, horribly Muggle futon. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, even if Ron hadn't admitted it earlier, and even if Hermione's Ron-induced blush hadn't given it away. Aloud, Ginny said, "You don't hate him, Hermione? Is that all?"

Hermione shook her head. Looked out the window. Got up and paced the small hospital room. Sat back down. Opened her mouth to speak. Closed it again. Finally, she turned to Ginny. Her eyes were clouded; Hermione was shutting her emotions down again. "It doesn't matter anyhow. Ron's gone back to the States, and I likely won't see him for another seven years."

"Gone?" asked Ginny, confused. "But he-"

"I left him a note this morning," Hermione interrupted, "right before I left for my meeting." Chagrined, she explained, "It was a bit...abrupt. So after I left my interview at the Ministry, I sent Ron an owl to make up for the note. I waited three hours for that owl to come back, and nothing." She heaved a sad sigh. "It doesn't take three hours, Ginny. My flat is less than an hour from the Ministry. St. Mungo's is even nearer. Even if he was at the Burrow he could have gotten the owl and sent it back in three hours. So you see? He's gone. I've done it again. I've managed to drive Ron away again. It doesn't matter how I feel." She turned away from Ginny, not wanting Ron's sister to see her cry, and brushed an errant tear from her face.

At that moment, a bedraggled post owl fluttered into the room and straight to Hermione. She recognized it as the owl she'd sent from the Ministry of Magic offices and whipped her head around to see the direction from which the owl had come. There was no one to see. She stood up and took a few steps toward the door. She peeked out the open door and down the extremely long (enchanted) hall of St. Mungo's maternity ward. "Ron?" she called softly. But there was no one there. Her shoulders drooped, and she went back to the hospital-issue wing-back chair at Ginny's side. "He wasn't there," she said.

Ginny knew who "he" was without asking. She pitied Hermione. Ginny could not imagine spending seven years without hearing a word from Harry. She was sure Hermione found cold comfort in her books and her degrees. The way Hermione had perked up when she recognized the owl told Ginny without words what Hermione felt for the stubborn, foul-tempered youngest Weasley man. "There's a note on his leg," she pointed out. Honestly, wasn't Hermione Granger supposed to be the smartest witch in Britain?

Hermione picked up the small owl and picked at the knot of string that tied a scrap of parchment to its leg. She finally freed it. Hurriedly unfolding the note, Hermione read it and immediately burst into tears.

Ginny took the scrap from Hermione and read it for herself, since Hermione didn't seem capable of it at the moment. She smiled and wondered where Ron was hiding to have heard Hermione's comment. The note had only two hastily scrawled words on it, but those two words spoke volumes.

"It matters."