Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Fifteen: Old Friends (Of a Sort)

Hermione closed her books and waved her wand at the door to her classroom. She was worn out. After two months of teaching Arithmancy at Hogwarts, she had yet to have a "normal" day. But then, she wasn't sure if she could blame it all on her students. After all, she was going into her sixth month of pregnancy. Not having been pregnant before, she was rather unaccustomed to the extra burden - to say the least.

After that revelatory day at Harry and Ginny's house, Ron and Hermione had barricaded themselves in her flat for several days to thrash out their future and the future of their child. And thrash was the operative word. Emotions ran high, hexes were cast on more than one occasion, and Hermione was utterly unable to explain away the scorch marks on the ceiling of her little flat when her lease was up. And in the end, they were no closer to a solution than they had been to start with.

Ron couldn't understand why Hermione didn't want to marry him now. They'd declared their love to each other - a number of times - lived together in Hermione's flat for a month before she left for Hogwarts, and they were having a child together, for crying out loud! What was the problem?

She couldn't explain it herself. What was her problem? She loved Ron. Was she that stubborn and independent that she couldn't manage to let another person so completely into her life? No. After all, a baby tended to entrench itself rather firmly in a mother's life. Was she afraid of being hurt? By Ron? The mere suggestion was ridiculous. And in the past seven years, Ron had really grown up. He wasn't the same immature boy he'd been at Hogwarts. He didn't need her to get him out of scrapes or explain his homework to him or tell him anything from Hogwarts: A History or remind him not to swear or make sure he didn't waste all his money at Honeydukes or... or anything!

Alone in her classroom, Hermione put her head in her arms and had a good cry. That was it, she realized. That was the problem. Ron didn't - didn't need her any more! In fact, it was the other way around! Who had healed her hand when Ginny crushed it giving birth to Jamie? And who’d fixed things when she hadn't been able to manage to brew a pot of tea? And who had been able to make his way in a foreign country, where he knew no one, so successfully that he'd managed to infiltrate the US Cabinet? Ron. The answer to each one was Ron. And while he became a successful, brilliant Auror, what had she managed to do? Earn her doctorate, yes, but hold down a steady job? No. Save her money? Not really. Become internationally famous in the wizarding world? Sort of - but only when she traded on Harry's fame. And she was the smart one - the brilliant one, if she dared - of their trio. She was the one everyone expected to succeed. Instead...it had taken her seven years to manage a position at Hogwarts! Even Ginny, who was younger than Hermione, had been more successful. Ginny was glowingly happy with her life, and she and Harry were already talking about a little sister or brother for Jamie. And they didn't need Hermione any more than Ron did.

It was a frightening thing, to realize no one needed her. Though her sensible brain told her that she was wallowing in self-pity, Hermione couldn't help it. Maybe it was hormones, or maybe she was finally admitting the truth that everyone else had always known. If she disappeared tomorrow, it wouldn't make a lasting difference. To anyone. They'd find a new teacher for Arithmancy. Her book would just disappear into the void of a publishing house. Her parents - they had died two years ago in a train crash. Harry and Ginny might miss her for awhile, but really, she never saw them anyway. The rest of the Weasleys would barely notice her disappearance. And Ron...well, Ron would get over it soon enough. Maybe he'd go back to America. In any case, he had managed quite well without her for seven years. The only person who needed her was her child, and he (or she) wasn't even born yet. The baby hardly counted as a person.

She had been crying for some time when she heard a soft knock on the door. Hermione sat up, and whispered a spell to counteract the redness in her eyes and face from crying. "Come in," she called, standing up.

"Professor Granger? I had a question about -" Elspeth Montgomery began, opening the door as she spoke. But she stopped as soon as she saw her professor. It was obvious to Elspeth, whose parents were both psychoanalysts (Muggle mother, wizard father), that Professor Granger had been crying. "Is this - should I come back later, Professor?"

"No. Come in, Miss Mintgomery. What is your question?"

"Are you all right, Professor?"

"Just fine." Hermione managed a pitiful little smile for the Hufflepuff girl and got down to business. "Now, what did you want to see me about?"

***

Ron shook his head and tried to focus on his work. As exciting as being an Auror was, sometimes the paperwork was enough to make him reconsider his life's work. Ron had never been terribly excited at the thought of writing reports or studying books, but it was a necessary part of his work. Though there was more of it in the British Ministry of Magic than there had been in the bi-partisan House Committee on Magical Occurrences, which oversaw the American Aurors. And Ron felt like he was spinning his wheels day after day in the office, while Death Eaters attempted to regroup yet again. He said as much to Harry - several times over the past few months - but Harry didn't seem to take Ron's complaints very seriously.

In fact, Ron thought with no little annoyance, Harry thought Ron was frustrated with his relationship with Hermione, and just redirecting his anger at the Ministry. Ron thought that Harry was getting a little cocky in his domestic bliss, and told him as much. Harry had just laughed.

On his own, though, in his dingy flat near the Ministry, when he had nothing to do but suffer through some truly awful Muggle television (how he missed his 120-channel cable package in the US!) and think about Hermione, Ron grudgingly admitted that Harry was right. The paperwork, and the different set of regulations at the British Ministry, were not really all that bad. He'd gone through worse when he went to university in the US. No, his real problem was Hermione. Always Hermione.

In the two months since she'd moved to Hogwarts, Ron hadn't heard from her – not once. Before she left, they'd argued and fought and talked and planned almost continuously. Ron had (unwillingly) given up on the thought of marrying her, and they'd finally agreed to see each other as often as possible. It was not ideal - nowhere near it - but Ron was willing to try it. He was willing to do anything to keep Hermione. He'd gone up to Hogwarts with her, helped her get settled in, even had a meal with the staff one evening before the students arrived. They'd parted on amicable terms, and Hermione had seen him off with a kiss and a promise to see him soon.

Since then - nothing. Not a word, not an owl, no invitations to meet her in Hogsmeade, no Floo conversations, not an e-mail or a word from someone else come down to London for the day - nothing. If not for the occasional owl from old Albus Dumbledore, Ron would think Hermione had disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Weasley! In my office," shouted Harry and Ron's boss Demetrius Cornwall. "Now!"

Ron left his meandering thoughts and went to join the group of Aurors waiting in Cornwall's office.

***

It was a Hogsmeade weekend. Hermione had been asked to chaperone the third year Ravenclaws, as their Head of House was in the infirmary with a chest cold. Hermione agreed, though in her misery she would have preferred to sit in her room and wallow in self-pity. She had a sneaking suspicion the other professors knew that. She had an even worse suspicion that Professor Gwynned wasn't ill at all. But she didn't want to be a drudge, so she went.

She was instantly waylaid by three old "friends." Acquaintances may have been a better word, but today Hermione was in no mood for splitting hairs. Kendra Tremayne, the American witch who had been closest to Hermione at university, was walking out of Honeydukes (Kendra had always had a sweet tooth) with Lavender Brown, of all people. "Hermione! Hey, Granger!" Kendra shouted, with her predictable American brashness. "Over here!" As if Hermione couldn't quite figure out from which direction the shout had come.

"Hermione Granger, I don't believe it! What are you doing in Hogsmeade? I thought you were going to work for the Ministry in London!" Kendra said with a grin. She hugged her friend, then jumped back in mock surprise. "What is that thing, a beach ball?"

Lavender giggled - Hermione remembered well that giggle and cringed. "Come on, Kendra. It was all over the papers, and in the gossip pages of Witches' Weekly. Hermione's teaching Arithmancy at Hogwarts. And she's having -"

Hermione spoke up before her private life was aired in the streets of Hogsmeade. "I'm having a baby. Kendra, it's so good to see you again. But tell me, what are you doing here? I think I've more a right to be here than you. I thought you were going to India."

At that moment, the third of the trio popped out of the Three Broomsticks: Grainne Fitzhugh, one of Hermione's roommates from her first year at Oxford. Grainne was very much like Lavender, and had taken Parvati's place after the Patil twins had died in a surprise attack by Death Eaters on Diagon Alley six years ago. She and Lavender had opened up a fortune-telling business in Hogsmeade the year after Grainne graduated from Oxford. Hermione still wondered what family favors had been called in to get a flighty, non-academic witch like Grainne into Oxford's College of Magic. "Our table is ready now," Grainne called to Lavender and Kendra. She spotted Hermione and burst out of the pub to embrace her long-lost friend. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes as Grainne gushed, "Hermione? I can't believe it's you! I'd heard that you were teaching at Hogwarts, but I never expected to see you here. You simply must come and have tea with us. We have ages to catch up on each other!"

"Actually, I'm meant to be chaperoning my students," Hermione hedged. But Lavender would have none of it.

"Don't be daft, 'Mione. We all know that students have free reign over Hogsmeade. Things haven't changed that much in seven years. So come have a cuppa. I love that maternity robe - it's so slimming! Did you make it yourself?" she asked as the three women dragged Hermione into the Three Broomsticks. Hermione gave herself up to an afternoon of idle chatter with the three of them.

***

Ron and Harry flew side by side above the clouds, on a mission from the boss to break up a suspected Death Eater meeting in Bath, but Ron had bigger things on his mind than a lot of Jane-Austen-loving pseudo-Death Eaters. What real damage could they be to the magical community, in their empire dresses and tricorn hats, spouting poetic nonsense to each other in front of a crowd of tourists? None. As far as Ron was concerned, he and Harry were wasting their time. The International Jane Austen Preservation Society was not in cahoots with Voldemort.

So the two friends spent their time flying across the country talking. It was just like old times, Ron thought. They talked about Quidditch, and Ron told Harry about the American powerhouses he'd seen while in the States. Harry talked on and on ad nauseum about his son, but Ron humored him, knowing that he'd be just as bad when Hermione had their baby. And Harry listened while Ron moaned about the current state of his relationship with Hermione.

"It's like she's disappeared, Harry," he said for the umpteenth time.

"Don't worry, Ron. She's at Hogwarts."

"I know that. But why hasn't she sent an owl?"

Harry sighed, exasperated with his short-sighted best friend. "I don't know, Ron. All right? But you didn't send her an owl for seven years. You can't hold a couple of months against her. She's Hermione. She's fine. And when she's ready, she'll owl you." Harry chanced a glance at Ron. "You could always owl her, you know." Ron grimaced, and Harry hastily continued. He wasn't in the mood for an argument with a bull-headed Weasley. Ginny's stubbornness was enough to contend with on a daily basis. "Look, mate. It's nothing to worry about. Ginny went through the same thing, when she didn't want to talk to me or think about having a baby or anything. It's all the hormones. Just be glad she's not here to hex you."

Ron grinned at that, remembering the last fiery month he’d had with Hermione before she left. "She's done that already. A well-placed leprosy hex, if you know what I mean." Harry's jaw dropped. "No worries, though. I know the countercurse." At Harry's look of sheer astonishment, Ron chuckled. "Got to watch out for those American witches. All that girl power has affected their idea of a joke."

Harry filed that away, suddenly grateful that Ginny didn't know too many American witches. Still, he'd have to get that countercurse from Ron - just in case. A wizard could never be too careful.

***

"So when I heard they were looking for another partner to lend some 'Scientific Accuracy' to the whole fortune-telling business, I signed on," Kendra was explaining. "Lavender does the crystal gazing and tea leaf readings, Grainne is a master at palm reading and astrology, and I do the more serious arithmancy part of it all. We're really successful, 'Mione. I keep telling them we'd do better in the States, where everyone's into astrology and magic - even the Muggles - but Lavender's boyfriend won't let her go."

"Boyfriend?" Hermione asked politely. It was obvious that Kendra had dropped the word so that Lavender could preen.

"Yes, boyfriend. You remember Lee Jordan? Well, he runs Weasley's Wizard Wheezes here in Hogsmeade, and we met up again at a guild meeting last year, and now..." She blushed prettily and let her sentence trail off.

Grainne picked it up. "Now they're living together and talking about marriage, though Lee won't admit to it. But what about you, 'Mione? You've heard all about us. All we know is what we read in the gossip pages. Are you really seeing Ron Weasley? There was a picture of him from his university Quidditch team, and he is heavenly! Lav says you two dated at Hogwarts, but you broke it off. Why? I heard that he single-handedly brought down a powerful sect of American dark wizards. Isn't he working with Harry Potter now? It's his baby, right? Why aren't you two married?"

Kendra stopped the stream of questions with a silencing spell. Hermione gave her a grateful look. She opened her mouth to say something when a fifth person sat down at the table.

"Sorry to interrupt your girl talk, ladies," Oliver Wood said smoothly, causing all four ladies to look up, "but the Professor is needed outside. A couple of students seem to have overdosed on Canary Cremes and Ton Tongue Toffee."

Hermione laughed. "Fred and George will be pleased to know that their old tricks still work." She stood and took leave of her friends, then walked with Oliver out the door. Behind her she heard Kendra's last remark.

"Mm-mm! No wonder Hermione's not marrying Ron yet. I wouldn't either, if I was being escorted around town with that manly hunk of wizard!"

Hermione was mortified, and hoped Oliver hadn't heard. She took a quick peek at his face, though, and realized to her shame that he had.

He chuckled. "Manly hunk of wizard, eh? Great sort of friends you've got, Professor. Better not let Ron hear them say that. I'm not as fast as I used to be. Don't think I could outmaneuver a hex from an angry Weasley." He laughed again.

Hermione burned with humiliation.