Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Twelve: Bad Timing

After a moment, they broke apart. Hermione blushed a bit, then smiled. "So."

"So," Ron repeated.

Hermione bit her lip. What now? Never, in all the years they had known each other, had Hermione and Ron been able to declare their feelings like this. In the past, Hermione had been unsure. When they were young, she had a crush on Ron, but she was too serious about her classes to admit it. Besides, he hadn't always been the nicest person. And then, when his feelings seemed to change, Hermione wasn't sure she felt the same way. And after he ran off to America, she decided she hated him. Sort of. Intellectually, at least. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to have no problems telling Hermione how he felt. Only, what he felt rarely coincided with what she felt. Her juvenile crush had been reciprocated with his snide remarks and jabs at her studiousness. When he finally admitted he cared for her, it was too late for Hermione, who had gotten over her crush with a vengeance. And then, when he proposed, she couldn't imagine marrying him. When he left, it was too late. They'd known each other since they were eleven, and it took fourteen years for them to say those three little words. Would it take fourteen more years to say anything else?

"Would you like something to eat? Some tea?" At a loss for words, Hermione did the only thing she could think of, even though a short while before she had given Ron a death glasre for suggesting the same thing.

Ron laughed.

"What?" she asked innocently. There was a glint in her eye, though, that belied the innocence of her question.

"Tea? Honestly, Hermione, you're a comic genius. Perhaps you should sit down, and I'll make us some tea. Too bad you don't have any house elves. Make things so much easier." He winked at her. According to the look on her face, Hermione's feelings about house elves hadn't changed since S.P.E.W. days. "Joking, 'Mione. Only joking." He disappeared into the tiny kitchen, and moments later, he reappeared with two steaming mugs of tea. Hermione's was sweetened to her preference (Ron hoped it hadn't changed over the years) and topped off with milk. Ron preferred his tea black...with just a touch of sugar to satisfy his ever-present sweet tooth.

Hermione accepted her mug with grace and sipped the tea, pleased that Ron had remembered how she took her tea, and impressed with his ability to charm the tea as well as she could have brewed it without magic. "So." She bit her lip and looked at him, anxiety seeping into her gaze. "What now?"

Ron took a deep draught of his tea...laced with just enough Ogden's to ease the awkwardness of the moment...and shrugged. "Now? I think we set our beverages aside, and I take you into my arms and ravish you to within an inch of your life, my lady," he answered with a wink and a roguish grin. "What say, 'Mione?"

There were many ways Hermione could have answered Ron's bold proposition, and if she was honest with herself, she would admit that she was hard pressed to decide between being annoyed with him...and accepting his indecent proposal. Before she could make up her mind, however, she heard a faint beeping. Glancing pointedly at Ron's pants, she caught his eye and grinned wickedly. "Is that a sneakoscope in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" she drawled.

Ron nearly choked on his tea. He gave Hermione an approving look, then pulled the small gadget from his pocket. He looked at it, then at her. "It's a visual communicator. The Americans always have better technology. And they don't have as many fireplaces. Do you mind if I - ?" He pointed the pager-sized gadget at the wall and pushed a button. Hermione watched with interest as the face of Ron's superior appeared on her wall in front of a Klimt lithograph she particularly liked.

"Weasley, your furlough's over. We need you back here immediately!" Ron stared stupidly at his boss, Andre Jorgensen. The oversized floating head rolled its eyes. "Now, you imbecile! The Secretary of Defense is making his move. People have been reporting sightings of the Dark Mark all over the country - not just in New Mexico. This is the real deal, Weasley. I expect you here in five minutes!" With that, the head disappeared, leaving Hermione and Ron alone once more.

Hermione heard Ron swear under his breath. Silently, she agreed with his sentiments, and added a few more. One look, and she knew. "This is it, huh?" she asked dully. Ron looked apologetic, but she just shrugged. "Ron...maybe this wasn't - we weren't - meant to be. Go on. Go back to the States. Just...write me this time, will you?" It was killing her to let him go, now, when they'd finally begun to sort out their relationship. But what choice did they have? That was the price of being an Auror, even an American Auror. The job always came first.

Ron shook his head. "Honestly, 'Mione, I'd stay if I could. This is the bloody worst timing." He leaned over and dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back, though. Wait for me, alright? Because I'm coming back for you, Hermione Granger. You're not escaping from me again."

***

Somehow, Ron did make it back to her. Two weeks without a word, and then there he was, waiting for her in her pitiful little flat, with tea and a bang-up Mexican meal waiting. He grinned, and kissed her hello as if he hadn't been gone to the other side of the world for the past two weeks. They picked up where they left off and spent the night making mad passionate love like in one of those horrid Muggle romances Hermione had found in Ginny's possession once or twice. The next morning, when Hermione went for another job interview, she made sure to wake Ron first and tell him where she was going.

When she came back that evening, positively elated, she had no one to share her joy. Ron had gone again, leaving a note on her pillow. He'd been called back to Washington, he wrote, but he promised to be back as soon as possible. She sat down at her computer in order to vent some of her frustration on the keyboard.

She finished an entire chapter of her book.

***

The pattern continued all summer long. Hermione grew tired of it, but every time Ron apparated into her flat in the middle of the night, looking worn out and beaten, it was all she could do to keep from binding him to her and refusing to let him go back there. She longed to keep him with her, yearned to give their relationship some sense of normalcy. But, she feared, normalcy was for lifelong lovers like Harry and Ginny. She hadn't even told Ron her latest news.

Professor Vector had tendered his resignation to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in the middle of the summer, having read his fate in his equations, and not liking what he read there. Thus, Hogwarts was in need of a new Arithmancy professor. And Hermione was just the PhD to fill the position. After her less than thrilling interview with the Ministry of Magic, Hermione had prayed for an alternative. She was saddened to hear of Professor Vector's retirement, but when Minerva McGonagall sent Hermione an express Hogwarts owl with an invitation to teach, Hermione practically leaped for joy.

Now, though, less than a month remained before she would have to give up her squalid flat and move to Hogwarts. And she didn't know when she would tell Ron. Or how. For when she moved to Hogwarts, there would be no way for him to apparate into her rooms each night. With Voldemort still on the loose, there was little possibility of her seeing Ron at all. Their relationship was still so fragile. How would they bear this new separation? Hermione didn't want to think about it.

Ron was coming back soon for Jamie's christening. She would tell him then. She sat down to her meal of chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice – and nothing else - and mused on how she would drop the news about Hogwarts on Ron.

***

Her new job was just the tip of the iceberg, as it turned out.