Three Years After the War
Hermione was curled up on the couch intently reading a book titled History of Gringotts when a loud tapping on the window to her right startled her. It took her a moment to recognize the owl as one from the Weasley household, since the night sky obscured her vision.
"What have you got there?" she asked kindly, letting the owl inside. It perched on top of the cabinet to rest and eat a snack as Hermione detached an envelope from its leg. It gave her a friendly coo before flying off into the night.
She settled back onto the couch and opened the envelope gingerly. Her heart seized up upon seeing the familiar handwriting covering the piece of paper.
Hermione-
I'm sorry, but I can't come back today. I'm not ready yet to talk to you without losing my temper. I'm sleeping at the Burrow until the time is right. Please don't be too angry with me.
-Ron
She read over the sloppily written note multiple times before crumpling it in frustration and hurling it across the room. The bloody bastard! She pinched her eyes closed and tried her best to relax. As she did so, her mind wandered.
She'd had a crush on Ronald Weasley since their Fourth year at Hogwarts. Although she'd initially hated him and always preferred Harry's company, there was a small time there when she and Ron had suddenly clicked. Out of nowhere, their constant bickering ceased and it came as such a surprise that even Harry commented on their change in behavior. However, Hermione hadn't fallen for Ron yet.
It was during their Seventh Year when she finally allowed herself to admit her strong feelings for the youngest Weasley son. She still hadn't had any idea about his feelings for her, but when Ginny approached her about the subject she didn't hold anything back.
For the majority of that year she kept her feelings hidden from Ron. That turned out to be an easy task since they spent so much time searching for Horcruxes. The night when Ron left her and Harry, though... she knew then that she couldn't keep h er love for him to herself anymore.
Things for them had become much better after the War. After some time had passed and the scars had begun to heal, she and Ron spent more time together than ever. Harry joined at times but he was often busy with Ginny. Every time she saw Ron, she fell more in love with him. He made her laugh more than anyone and she felt completely comfortable with him. They weren't big fans of public displays of affection, but the kisses they did share left her heart racing.
About a month ago, though, was when their blissful relationship hit a rather large bump. It all started when Hermione told Ron about her new job at the Ministry.
"Ron, you won't believe it! I've been promoted to Head of the Department!" she came home exclaiming, a huge grin taking over her face.
Ron was lounging on the recliner, taking gulps of beer. "That's great, Hermione."
The excitement she'd felt all the way home suddenly vanished as she assessed Ron's flat tone and stiff body.
"Aren't...aren't you happy for me? This means the world to me, Ron." she said barely above a whisper.
Ron was silent for a minute, as if he hadn't heard her. And then he was hurling the beer bottle across the room, smashing it into a picture frame of the trio. The glass shattered everywhere, causing Hermione to let out a gasp.
"Ron! Why the hell did you do that?" she yelled.
He turned slowly to face her, his eyes tinged red and an expression of anger taking over his features.
"Damn it, Hermione! I've had it with you! I can't take it anymore. I'm sick of you caring more about your stupid job than me! I never hear you ask me how I'm doing, no, all you ever want to talk about is how bloody work was. Well I'm tired of it! If you can't even find a time of day to tell me how much you love me, than I can't handle this relationship."
With every word he spit out, she felt her eyes getting more and more misty. It was awful, really. She never cried, always being taught to be strong. But her emotions surged through her so quickly, she didn't have time to control them. Here was her boyfriend and best friend of ten years, the one person she'd given her heart to, and he'd destroyed it within a matter of seconds. As she stood there, too stunned to move, he brushed past her into their bedroom where she heard him packing.
"I'm going to stay someplace else."
And with a wave of his wand, he was gone. Without even a goodbye.
That night, she cried harder than she ever had before.
Hermione felt her eyes water slightly at the memories, but forced herself to hold the tears back. She'd spent too many nights crying over him, when in her head she knew he didn't deserve it.
She took a deep, calming, breath before getting up from the couch and moving to the bathroom where she turned on the shower and managed to hold in the tears for about five seconds before they came pouring out of her eyes beyond her control.
Why is the person who I love most in the world also the person who has let me down the most?
The question ran through her mind all night until exhaustion from crying finally caused her to fall asleep.
¥
Just a few miles away, Draco Malfoy apparated into the Malfoy Manor wearing a crisp white shirt and spotless black pants. Over the two lay his robes, the Malfoy crescent emblazoned on the right breast. The former Slytherin made sure to be quiet as he tiptoed past the living room, where his mother Narcissa sat staring into the flames of the fireplace. If she knew where he'd been...
"Draco, you can't fool me. I heard you apparate. Come here." she said plainly.
Draco sighed in defeat and walked over to his mother. She turned her head slightly to gaze at him, her grey eyes reflecting disappointment.
"It's nearly one o'clock in the morning and you're just getting home. Where in Merlin's name were you?"
He groaned, knowing he had to tell her the truth yet not wanting to deal with his mum's questions. "I'm sorry, Mother. I was just out late after work and thought I'd visit Knockturn Alley for a bit."
Narcissa's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "You were at Knockturn Alley? My twenty year old son went to visit the one place I told him not to go? Draco, how could you! You know perfectly well how I feel about you snooping around there. What the bloody hell were you doing there at this time of night?"
Draco took a seat across from his mother and paused for a second to decide how to approach the subject.
"I went at night for a good reason. During the day there's the press, and a bunch of other annoying people who eavesdrop. I figured I'd be able to have a private conversation with Borgin...and I did."
He stopped to let Narcissa process the information.
"I...I told him about Father. And I know you wanted to keep it secret, Mother, but it's impossible for us to handle this ourselves! And Borgin is a good friend of the family, no?" he spluttered with the final part, wary of his mother's impending stare.
Finally, she spoke. "Draco. I know you're upset about your Father-"
"I'm not upset. I'm just sick of dealing with all the questions from the press- the Prophet has wanted to write at least five articles about it!"
"But," she ignored her son, "we cannot breathe a word of it to anyone. Understood?"
Draco held his mother's glare for a solid minute or so before curling his lip and giving a single nod.
"Yes, Mother."
She turned her attention back to the fire, as if to avoid his eyes. But the light from the flames allowed Draco to notice a tear slowly fall down his mother's face, letting him know that she was just as concerned about his father as he was.
Draco left her alone, walking to his bedroom where he closed the door and sat on his bed. For a moment he glanced up at a family portrait of the three of them, and couldn't help but stare uneasily at his father's malicious smile.
"I promise I'll find you, Father. Even if no one will help me."