Work Text:
Papers pile on every surface
Challenges answered and problems solved
Empty bed her great fear
Waiting for his return
Rose and Hugo sat in front of their parents’ open trunks. “Wonder what they put in here?” Rose looked at her brother.
“No time like the present to figure it out,” Hugo replied and reached into Ron’s trunk. He pulled out a bundle wrapped in brown paper and tied with a red string. “This has a ‘one’ on it. I bet you have one like it in Mum’s trunk.”
“Found it,” Rose pulled the matching bundle out of Hermione’s trunk. “Feels like letters or pictures. Let’s see. On three, we pull the string … One … Two … Three …”
Each bundle opened to reveal half of a torn picture and letters. “Do these fit together?” Hugo asked as he held up his half. “This looks like Dad when he was an Auror …”
“And this looks like Mum when she started at MLE,” Rose said as she held her half up to Hugo’s. “Why is the picture torn in two?”
“Maybe the letters have the reason,” Hugo said as he opened the first letter in his pile. “Harry, I don’t know how much longer I can do this …”
Ron quietly unlocked the door to their flat. It was late and Hermione should be asleep. She had not been happy when he and Harry had been called in to chase down a pair of Death Easters wreaking havoc in the wilds of Dorset, but that was his job and he was good at it. He hated how she would start to shuffle papers and look anywhere but at him when he told her he had to leave for a case. He knew she worried about him and that the uncertainty and danger involved in his job made it all the worse. Hermione tried to hide her fears but the tears that never quite fell every time he put on his duster said more than she ever could.
Hermione was working on her latest report on House Elf reforms when she heard the door open. She looked up the clock on the mantle and noticed that it was after midnight. At least he was home. She was tired of worrying about the risk from his job every time he stepped out of their flat. She thought she had worried enough when he left them for months during the War. He was always fussing about her bringing work home and never having time together, but it was not her fault that she could not concentrate when he was off with Harry. Being in the flat with his smell in the air made it easier to concentrate. That was the reason she had given herself when she had started bringing work home, but now it was habit. It was just easier to work and not worry. Ron tried to hide his displeasure at her constant need to work but, he could not hide the fire in his eyes when he looked at her behind a pile of books every time he walked into the sitting room.
“Hello, Love,” Ron said as he dropped a weary kiss on Hermione’s cheek. “Still working on the House Elf study?”
“Welcome home, dear,” Hermione said, distractedly. “I’m almost done with this report and then I’ll be on to bed.”
“I’m going to take a shower before I lay down,” Ron limped towards the bathroom. He hadn’t been fast enough to avoid a few stinging curses when they were capturing the pair of Death Eaters they had been chasing for a week. “Join me soon … please. You look worn out.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Hermione said as she focused on the draft of the report in front of her. “Just a few more edits and I’ll be done for the night.”
Ron stepped into the bathroom and slowly removed his battle worn clothes. The hot spray of the shower called to him. Stepping under the spray, he let the hot water wash away the stress of the last week. When the water started to run cold, Ron got out of the shower and toweled off. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he headed for their bedroom … and an empty bed. She was still working. “Why am I not surprised,” Ron muttered as he collapsed into the bed. “All I want is a warm shower, a warm bed and her curled up beside me. No such luck tonight.”
Ron reached across the bed to find it empty. The sun was up and he was pretty sure it was Saturday so Hermione should be beside him. But, she wasn’t. He stumbled to the closet and grabbed a pair of joggers. Pulling them on as he left the bedroom, Ron made his way to the sitting room. Hermione was asleep in the couch with a quill in her hand. “You are going to burn yourself out if you keep this up, love,” Ron murmured as he took the quill from her hand. “No witch or wizard was meant to run on no sleep.” He carefully laid her papers to the side and picked her up. “Off to bed with you, my love.”
Ron laid Hermione in their bed and pulled the covers over her. “Sleep, please, love. I worry when you do this.” Ron kissed her forehead and headed for the kitchen. “Time to make some tea and food. Let’s hope she sleeps for a while.”
Three hours later, Hermione wobbled into the kitchen and Ron handed her a cup of tea. “Did you get enough sleep, love?” Ron asked as she sipped her tea.
“I guess so,” Hermione answered. “I need to get back to my report. Kingsley wants it first thing Monday morning and I still have research to do.”
“Mione, this is the first Saturday in a month we have both been home. Can’t work wait?” Ron asked as he looked over the top of his tea cup. “I was hoping to spend some time with you without work.”
“Ronald, you know how important this is to me,” Hermione sighed as she sat at the table. “If I can get this House Elf problem sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction, we will have some time to spend together.”
“That’s what you said six months ago and a year ago,” Ron slumped his shoulders as he met her eyes with his. “It will never be over as long as you obsess over it. Take a day with me.”
“I can’t…” Hermione started to lay out her reasons why she had to keep working only to be interrupted.
“Can’t or won’t?” Ron asked quietly. “We always have choices, Mione. I was just wondering when you were going to choose me.”
Ron stood up and walked to the sitting room. As he turned back to the kitchen, he said, “If you are going to work all day, I’m going to the Burrow to see Mum and Dad. They worry when Harry and I take on tough assignments and she always has to check to see if I am in one piece. Which I am, by the way. A couple of scratches and bruises that should heal in a day or two, but you would have to look at me to notice.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped as he entered the Floo. “The Burrow” echoed in her head as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. Had she really just heard that? Had he just said that his mum cared for him more than she did because she had not checked him for injuries when he came in last night? She did remember seeing him limp to the bathroom as she looked up from her paperwork, but he seemed to be walking fine this morning. He always limped when he was tired, didn’t he?
Hugo looked up from the pile of letters he had been reading to Rose. “This doesn’t sound like Mum at all. How could the witch that worked herself to exhaustion be the same person that raised us?”
“I don’t know. These letters don’t ‘sound anything like the Mum we knew. I wonder what she had to say about it?” Rose picked up the first letter in her pile. “Ginny, Everything seems to be falling apart …
Hermione stared at the Floo for hours. She could not believe that Ron had just walked away from her. She had tried to work on her report but the words seemed to run together and her thoughts were scattered. Ron would be home soon and they could talk this out. She went to the kitchen a made another cup of tea. Had she really let her work take over everything?
Hermione looked up as she heard the whoosh of someone using the Floo. Ron wandered into the kitchen and sat at the table. “Did you get much work done?” he asked as she poured him a cup of tea. “I think we need to talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” Hermione asked as she held her teacup up to her lips. “You went to your parents for the day and I stared at an empty Floo instead of getting anything done.”
“There is everything to talk about,” Ron sighed and put his empty cup on the table. “You are burying yourself so deeply in your work that I can’t find you anymore.”
“What else am I supposed to do,” Hermione’s voice rose as Ron got up from the table. “Stare at the Floo and wait for you to come back in pieces?”
“No, but you could stop working long enough to see if I came back whole.” Ron stomped into the sitting room, “Or at least act concerned when I limp across the room.”
“I am concerned about you. I can’t breathe when you walk into the Floo with Harry,” Hermione yelled at Ron’s retreating figure. “I spend days waiting to see you come home. Knowing what you are fighting and how many times I have almost lost you, what else am I supposed to do. I have to work to function. If I didn’t have my work, I would lose my mind waiting for you to get home.”
“But, can you give up your work to greet me, to welcome me home, to check to see if I am in one piece,” Ron yelled back. “Last night you didn’t even look up. You sat there surrounded by your fortress of books and kept on working.”
“I was in the middle of editing an important report,” Hermione began to defend herself. “I had to finish the thought before I lost it.”
“So it took you more than 30 minutes to finish editing three sentences,” Ron’s words pushed at her buttons. “I saw what you were working on when I carried you to bed this morning. It is the same bloody report you were working on last weekend, when you said you could not come with me to the park for a walk before I left with Harry for this assignment.”
“I don’t know how bloody long it took,” Hermione tossed her hair as she let her frustrations loose. “I just know it had to be done. I have to get this done. I have to make sure things are done right.”
“So, you sacrifice everything for your need for perfection,” Ron sagged on the couch. “You will give up sleep and people and life to make sure something is perfect. It doesn’t work that way, Mione. The world is not perfect. People are not perfect. Bad things will always happen.”
“But, if I can keep this one bad thing from happening again,” Hermione paced in front of the fireplace. “I have to fix this. There has to be a reason why I am good at research. I have to have a purpose. This feels right.”
“But, if you lose the people that love you,” Ron sighed and slumped deeper into the couch. “Is it worth the sacrifice? Is it worth the price you are going to pay? Will fixing this one wrong to the detriment of the rest of your life fill the empty space in your gut? Because it is killing me to watch you kill yourself with this work.”
“And, what about you?” Hermione asked as she settled into the chair across from Ron. “Running off to fight every shadow. What happens when there are no more shadows to chase? When the only thing you are chasing is memories? You are always running into a fight without thinking of what you are running away from. Because, I die a little every time you step out the door.”
“I am not going to do this forever,” Ron huffed as he leaned forward. “I never go in alone and I always research the situation. What about you? What is your ten-year plan and where do I fit in it?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione reached for Ron’s hand. “I can’t say what is next. I just know I need to fix this now. I have been working on this too long to hand it over now. I need to finish it.”
“And, that is the problem,” Ron dropped her hand and stood up. “You can’t see beyond what is in front of you. I love you and I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I can’t wait for you to see me anymore.”
“What are you saying?” Hermione stared at him as Ron walked to the Floo. “I see you everywhere, even with my eyes closed. Sometimes, I can’t see anything but you.”
“You could have bloody fooled me,” Ron whispered as he stepped into the Floo. “I am tired of waiting for your outside to reflect the inside. I need to figure somethings out and I think you do too. I’ll be back later for my things… The Burrow.”
Ron disappeared in a puff of green smoke, taking Hermione’s heart with him. She never thought he would do it again. That he would walk away from her. That he would leave her empty.
Scars accumulate on his body
Challenges answered and problems solved
Empty chair his greatest fear
Waiting for her attention
Hugo and Rose stared at the letters scattered before them. “Wow, I had no idea they fought like that,” Rose sifted through her stack to the torn picture. “I knew Dad had a temper, but I never would have thought Mum could get that wrapped up in her work.”
“They were always such a solid team when we were growing up,” Hugo looked down at the next letter in his stack. “I could never imagine crack so big in their relationship that Dad would walk away and Mum would let him.”
“I don’t know if I want to read any more of these letters,” Rose stuttered as she leafed through to the next unread letter. “It is almost too painful to see.”
“I’ll go first this time, Rosie,” Hugo said as he took a deep breath and began to read the last letter in his packet. “Hermione, I know you are hurt and upset, but so am I…”
Hermione stared at the letter Ron had left on her pillow. She didn’t think he was serious when he had Floo’d to the Burrow last weekend. She waited for him to come home. She left work early and waited for him the come home. But, Ron was not coming home. He had come to the flat while she was out with Ginny and packed up all his things. Every sound was different now. The flat echoed with silence.
Ginny was worried. Harry was worried. Molly and Arthur were worried. Hell, even Theo had owled to check on her. Everyone keep sending owls to check on Hermione. Hermione was trying to function but it was not working. She had finally given up and locked herself in the flat for the weekend. She had spent Friday night crying over a knight she had found under her pillow. Ron had tucked it there a year ago and she always put it back when she changed the sheets. It was his way of reminding her he was coming home, coming back to her. It took about five minutes to realize that it was a black knight, not the white one. He really wasn’t coming back.
Hermione spent Saturday trying to work. Trying being the operative word. After three hours of staring at wavy letters on a blurry page, Hermione gave up and crawled back into bed. The questions Ron had asked her in their last fight kept circling in her head. Had she really shut him out and buried her fears in her obsession with her work? Was he right about her using work to keep for thinking about her personal demons? The questions circled in her head as the tears streamed down her face. She need to figure this out. She need to figure out how she had gotten so lost.
On Sunday, Hermione decided she had cried enough. She showered and got dressed. She sat at the table and had toast and tea. She sent an owl to Ginny and got ready to leave the flat. But an hour later she was still staring at the Floo. She had tried to head for the Leaky Cauldron. She stood in the Floo with a handful of powder … and she said nothing. She did nothing. She just stood there and wished that Ron wasn’t right, wished that he had not seen through her need to work and found her fear. Hermione stood frozen in the Floo realizing that she had never left the trauma of the War and the loss of friends behind. When she could finally drag herself out of the Floo, she owled Ginny again and canceled their plans. She need to talk to someone that was not in the middle of the issue. It was time to get some help dealing with things she had buried under work.
Monday morning, Hermione woke up and Floo’d to St. Mungos. She found a Healer that worked with survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts and decided to figure out the answers to the questions Ron had asked her as he walked out of her life. She needed to figure this out. She needed to find out who she was again.
Rose wiped away tears as she listened to Hugo finish reading their dad’s letter to their mum. “How did he do that? How did he find the strength to walk away from her when he was breaking his own heart?” she whispered.
“Maybe the answer is in Mum’s letter,” Hugo hugged Rose and handed her to only unread letter in her stack. “They left these here for a reason.”
“I know you're right, little brother,” Rose sighed. “Ronald, I know you were trying to tell me I was breaking your heart and I was too stubborn to listen …”
Ron stared at the letter Pig had delivered earlier that evening. He had been looking through the Muggle ads for a flat to rent. He could not continue to live at the Burrow. Mum was hovering and Dad was asking him when he was going home. But, there was no home to go to. He had barely survived packing up his belongings in their flat and he knew he should not have left that knight. But knowing what he should not do and what he ended up doing were very different things.
Ron was lucky that work was light last week. He had spent most of his time buried in a bottle of firewhiskey. He had not spent that much time plastered since the year after the War. Harry was starting to worry. Neville was worried, Bloody hell, even Malfoy had owled to check on him. Just because he had not shaved in a week and wasn’t exactly steady when he got to the office was not a reason to worry. He had just left his heart in their flat and his chest was empty and hollow. He need to get his act together and figure his next step.
Step one was done on Tuesday. Ron found a flat above Gambol and Japes. It wasn’t the fanciest of places but it came with furniture and he only looking for a place to lay his head and keep his clothes. Why bother to decorate when he only slept there. He brought all his stuff from there flat and shoved it in a closet. No point in dwelling on what he could not change. He was tired of fighting.
On Wednesday, Ron stopped drowning himself in firewhiskey. Step two accomplished. He decided to figure out what her really wanted and where he really wanted to go. He sent Malfoy a request for two weeks off and made arrangements to portkey to Romania. Charlie was looking for some help with a few new dragons and Ron need to do something besides think about her. Romania sounded like a good place to go to not think.
Thursday morning, Ron picked up his portkey and crashed on his brother’s couch. Two weeks to forget that he was not with the witch he loved beyond forever. Fourteen days to figure out what he wanted to do next. More than three hundred hours to mend the hole in his chest and move on. He could do that … maybe …
“How did they ever find their way back?” Rose asked her brother. “How did they get so broken? How are we even here?’
“Sometimes two people have to fall apart, to realize how much they needed to fall back together.”
- Colleen Hoover