The Days of Laura

The Days of Laura

Ron Weasley

 

PART ONE

Heartbreak & Drunkenness

 

            You had to be gentle with some social interactions, certain situations that must be treated delicately. Ron knew this was just being polite, to do so; his mother had taught him that much.

Hermione was not gentle; she did not treat him delicately. Somehow she knew he didn’t want it that way, that for her say it outright was better for him.

“Ron,” she said, voice tight and even “We need to take a break.”

Looking up from his supper, Ron had merely nodded “If that’s what you want.”

Her lower lip trembled, and Ron moved swiftly towards her; she fit in his arms perfectly.

“We need some breathing room,” she said, voice wilful “We need this. I’m sorry, Ronald.”

Ron didn’t want to take a break, or need any breathing room. He thought of the velvet box tucked away in his sock drawer, the tiny ring he had bought with the money he’d been saving since they defeated Voldemort a year ago.

This had been the happiest year of Ron’s life.

It didn’t take long for him to pack up his clothes, some books and work stuff. The ring was thrown into the bottom of his bag, along with the photo he kept on his bedside.

Hermione stood in the door, the soft light of the front hall illuminated her burnt caramel curls. Ron remembered running his fingers through those curls, how they looked in the morning and how she struggled with them before going to school. He loved that she decided against living at Hogwarts, instead renting a small cottage with him – he’d almost boarded with Harry, but in the end he’d achieved a small home and a simple life with the woman he had loved for so long.

And now all of that was over.

 ҉ 

            Somehow, Ronald hadn’t died in the first few hours after leaving his home, leaving Hermione and happiness. He’d couch surfed at Harry’s for a few days, then his parents; Bill had shut the door in his face, saying he didn’t want a heartbroken brother around with his tiny new daughter.

So Ron had made a big decision. A bit stupid, pretty reckless and a lot bad. Standing in front of Harry’s house where he had returned to for a few days, he stared at a map as the late June sun beat down on his neck.

“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked, shifting on his feet nervously. Behind him stood the house his grandparents had once inhabited in the country, since fixed up and made into quite a nice place. White with green trim, he’d even had a gardener come in and clean up the plants. The scent of honey suckle was heavy in the air, and sounds of Ginny making lunch drifted from the kitchen window. “You’re going through a hard time mate; I don’t want you to do something…er-”