Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Ten: Assume the Position

Harry apparated into the hall outside his wife's hospital room and smirked as he watched Ron come down from the ceiling, where he'd been effectively hovering out of sight. From inside the room came the sound of female sobbing, as well as the tired cooing of a worn-out post owl. He recognized that warm chuckle of Ginny's and turned to her brother. "Well?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Ron grinned goofily and shrugged. "Erm...she doesn't hate me." Harry rolled his eyes and slugged his brother-in-law in the shoulder. "Ow!" Ron protested, ceasing his love-addled grin for a moment to glare and rub his shoulder. "All right, all right! I know I have to face her again, but I -"

Before he could finish the thought, Harry pushed Ron into the room, following close behind.

Ginny greeted her husband warmly with upturned lips as he crossed to her bedside. Then both turned their attention to the scene about to play itself out before them.

Hermione, startled by the sudden appearance of the man of her dreams, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Her mouth gaped open, and she could not force herself to form a coherent thought. Ron - here - crying - Ginny - Ron - ugh! - why? - how? - Harry - crying - foolish... Oh, why was it always like this? Here she was, startled out her her senses by his appearance, while Ron only gazed at her and smiled as smoothly as Draco Malfoy ever had. It was enough to raise her ire...which in turn aided her return to her senses. "Ron Weasley, where were you?" she demanded. "I just looked for you in the hall - did you suddenly develop the ability to become invisible?" This last bit she asked with an uncharacteristic sneer. Everyone, including herself, was surprised by it. But she had gone through a host of draining emotions in the past half hour, and she could not be held responsible for anything that came out of her mouth now. "Honestly!"

Ron didn't hear the quiet chuckles of his sister and best friend as the goofy grin disappeared and his face started to redden. "Honestly, yourself, Hermione!" he shot back. "I was trying," he leaned heavily on the word, "to be chivalrous. To give you a minute, if you please. For the love of God, woman, I came up here to beg off visiting Ginny and my godson so I could apparate to your flat and -" There he broke off, unwilling to mention the note he had intended to destroy before she discovered it. "And here you were, spilling your guts to my sister! What was I supposed to do, just barge in?" His chest heaved as his temper got the best of him. Only she could raise such an instantaneous reaction in him. Well, he amended, a couple of instantaneous reactions.

"It never stopped you before!" she returned with the quick skill of a tennis ace. Take that, Ronald Weasley! she thought, watching him sputter. Hermione felt as though she might be worthy of her title as the smartest witch in Britain after all. See? The situation didn't always require an intellectual dissertation. Sometimes a short retort worked better. Said quickly enough, a few simple words could obliterate her vocal sparring partner. Besides, she knew from experience that Ron could tune out a tirade in the blink of an eye. She jumped up from the chair she had so recently curled up in and assumed argument position. Balled fists on hips, feet apart, shoulders squared, chin raised stubbornly, eyes flashing. Both Ginny and Harry saw her assume the position and could barely contain their mirth, but Hermione didn't notice them at all.

"The only time you ever hide is when you're eavesdropping or too full of self-pity to face the rest of the world," she told him. Ginny noticed a trace of bitterness had slipped into Hermione's voice and wondered how this particular showdown was going to end. Hermione was angrier than anyone had seen her in a long time. Ron was still trying to find his voice, so Hermione pressed her advantage. "You've been gone for seven years, so why don't I bring you up to speed?" she asked, with dripping sarcasm worthy of Severus Snape. "Your sister here, has a son. A husband. A warm bed and a soul mate and a home and a family and someone to care for. I, on the other hand, have a doctorate. A publishing contract," gasps around the room at that; she hadn't managed to tell anyone her news all day. "And a grimy little flat I go home to every night all alone. So spare me your chivalry, Ron, and tell me again why it is you saw fit to run away from me, again, in the hall just now?"

In some part of her mind, logic was struggling to take hold and remind Hermione that placing the blame entirely on Ron for her seven years of solitude was unfair - to say the least. But Hermione was in no mood to be logical. It was a rare sight, Hermione Granger unhinged, but when it happened...

...It was breathtaking, Ron thought. "Now see here," Harry began, thinking Hermione had gone a bit too far in her angry accusations, but Ron held up his hand. Calmer, he gestured for Hermione to continue. He, too, had noted the bitterness and pain Hermione felt - was feeling even now - and privately admitted that he was not wholly blameless for the current state of their relationship.

Hermione inhaled angrily, bullish, but found that it was quite difficult to be furious with someone so calm and collected. She sighed heavily and waved her hands most ineffectually in Ron's direction. "Well don't just stand there, you great prat. Say what you're thinking. I can take it. I survived your leaving; I can certainly survive whatever you're thinking." But he was uncharacteristically silent. Their two-person audience watched the pair closely, heads swinging from one to the other and back again. Hermione, too, watched Ron, and even though his face was almost completely impassive, she began to blush. Trying to combat her more...corporeal...thoughts, she looked away. But the view out the window wasn't nearly as precious as the view in front of her. She turned back to Ron and squared her shoulders again. This time, though, it was not in anger. Rather, pure stubborn determination forced the words haltingly from her throat. "I - you - that is - Ron...couldn't you see it? Don't you know?" He still watched her, and she could detect some tenderness in his eyes. It nearly melted her determination away to nothing, but she knew she had to say it. Now. "I, well, I love you, Ron. Didn't you know that? Didn't you always know?"

Tears threatened to spill from her toasted cinnamon eyes. The astonished stares of her friends threatened to make her run out of the room like a silly schoolgirl; they probably hadn't expected her to make that long-awaited declaration of love in a room in the maternity ward of St. Mungo's. And Ron - as always, his mere presence threatened to turn her to mush. Hermione closed her eyes against the reality that assailed her ears with silence and, steeling herself, waited for Ron to speak.

***

As Ron watched those twin tears spill down Hermione's smooth cheeks, he cursed himself for ever leaving her. Perhaps, if he hadn't been so bull-headed, they could have worked something out, something that didn't require spending seven years apart.

Before he could could actually pull out his wand and do the deed, however, Harry spoke up. "Boy, am I thirsty. How about you, Gin? Fancy a drink?" he asked with a wink.

Hermione's eyes flew open, and the confusion written there mirrored that in Ron's cerulean ones. Ginny, however, didn't give either of them a chance to speculate. "Indeed I do, love of mine. And I could stand to see our son, if you don't mind stopping by the nursery." She flashed a look at her brother, then a twin one at Hermione. "On your way back, I mean. Ron, take Hermione with you. The nurses will release Jamie to her a sight faster than they'd give you the chance to drop him. Please?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry and Ginny, but they had embarked on a snogfest and were not looking at her. She cast a sideways glance at Ron, who appeared amused, and annoyed, and willing enough to go along with the transparent ploy. He looked back at her and shrugged. "Shall we then?" he asked, offering that damned chivalrous arm.

Sometimes Hermione wondered if everyone was against her.