Title: After Happily Ever After (2/?)
Author:![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
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Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry/Hermione, Ron
Rating: PG-13 (this part)
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Length/Word Count: Chaptered, 1042 words (this part)
Summary: Thirty-two years later...
Warnings: DH Spoilers, Epilogue compliant
Notes: This fic started out from a prompt forrandom_loves's birthday. She requested Harry and Hermione falling in love at age 50/51. Not an affair. Special thanks to quite_grey for the beta! Any remaining mistakes belong to me. Comments and concrit are most welcome!
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.
Part one
After Happily Ever After
Part 2
“Where is he?”
Hermione barely had time to swing the front door open before Ron stomped through, his Ministry-issued black robes sweeping in his wake, oddly reminiscent of Professor Snape from so many years ago.
Hermione decided it would be best to keep that particular observation to herself.
“He’s not here.”
Ron’s eyes darted around Hermione’s small sitting area as if daring Harry to pop out from under one of the sofa cushions. He took a couple steps toward the hallway leading to the two bedrooms, but paused and turned back to face her.
“Where did he go?”
“For a walk, I suspect.” Truthfully, Hermione wasn’t sure as Harry hadn’t been at the flat when she’d returned from work a half-hour ago, but that wasn’t unusual. Hermione could only remember one time in the last week since he’d moved in that Harry had come home first.
He always showed up in time to make dinner though, usually with something fresh from the shop around the corner, but whenever she questioned him about where he’d been, he would always answer with a vague mention of a walk around the neighbourhood to clear his head. Hermione figured if that was a good enough answer for her, it was good enough for Ron.
Ron, who was currently plopped down on her sofa with a stubborn set to his jaw.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
“All right.” Hermione pursed her lips as she shut the front door. “I was just about to have a cup of tea. Would you like some?”
“No.” Ron fisted his robes, staring intently at the hearth. The vein in his temple throbbed with the flex of his knuckles and his closely-cropped ginger hair did nothing to hide the rising flush on his neck.
“It might calm you down,” Hermione said lightly. Ron grumbled something indiscernible under his breath and Hermione decided that perhaps letting Ron seethe alone even for the few minutes it would take to prepare tea wasn’t the best idea.
She perched on the armchair to his left.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Ron muttered.
“You’re not keeping me.” Hermione folded her hands in her lap. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Ron’s face flooded with colour, his lips twisting to a scowl. “You know bloody well what’s wrong.”
Hermione took a calming breath. “I take it Harry told you-”
“He didn’t tell me anything! I’ve been on assignment all week and came home last night to find Ginny crying in Luna’s arms—and the bastard didn’t even have the nerve to show up for work today. He went on leave. Coward.”
“Harry’s not a coward,” Hermione snapped automatically. Ron ignored her, spurting out clipped words as he continued to rant.
But Hermione was far more worried about the fact that Harry had taken a leave from the Ministry without telling her about it first. It wasn’t as if she’d asked; she’d been trying very hard to give Harry his space the last few days as whenever she brought up how he was feeling or anything remotely to do with Ginny, he would close himself off in his room for the rest of the night. She hadn’t wanted to push, but she still assumed he was going to work after she left the flat in the mornings. Keeping a normal routine was important; she knew that from her own experience and several books she’d consulted during her divorce from Ron. It did no good to languish around brooding all day.
“…and it’s a good thing he stepped down from being the Head of the Aurors, too, or else we’d have a real mess on our hands-”
Hermione’s attention snapped back to Ron. “What?”
“You didn’t know?” Ron looked at her for the first time since sitting down on the sofa. She numbly shook her head.
“Three months ago. He said he was tired of all the responsibility, but Ginny reckons that he just wanted to be back in the field—any excuse to be away from home after Lily finally moved out.”
“Ron, you don’t know that.” Hermione reached out to touch his forearm, but Ron snatched his arm away.
“I suppose you do.” Ron narrowed his eyes. “Well, since he’s not around to tell his side of things, go ahead then.”
“It’s not my place,” Hermione said, though the last thing she wanted to admit was that she didn’t know Harry’s side.
Ron leaned forward. “Did he tell you that he went ahead and talked to their kids? Told them they were separated behind Ginny’s back? Didn’t even give Ginny a chance to-”
Hermione’s stomach churned. “Ron, stop-”
“You didn’t know that, did you?” A flicker of regret crossed Ron’s face before he looked to the door. When he turned back to Hermione again, all she could see was pain lining his eyes. “I should have known you’d defend him.”
“I’m not defending him. I’m his friend.” She softened her voice. “And from what I remember, so are you.”
“Ginny’s my little sister.”
Hermione reached for him again. “You don’t have to pick a side.”
Ron ducked his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like seeing her going through what I—what we…”
“Ron…” Hermione squeezed his arm. “But it all worked out all right, remember? We’re both happier now. You’re with Luna, and I’m—we’re friends, still close friends.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, but he averted his gaze and stood up from the sofa, making a vague gesture to the door. “I think I should-”
Hermione stood after him. “You don’t want to-”
“No, I—” Ron glanced at her then back at the door. “I don’t think I should see Harry yet.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Hermione badly wanted to give him a hug, but she could barely keep up with him as he headed to the door. She settled for another quick squeeze of his arm as he mumbled a promise to firecall her later, and before she could reply, he was gone.
Hermione closed the door and leaned back against it with a sigh, wishing there was a book she could read that would tell her the right words to say to Harry when he finally came home.
Go to Part 3
Shelly's fic index
Author:
sdkFandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry/Hermione, Ron
Rating: PG-13 (this part)
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Length/Word Count: Chaptered, 1042 words (this part)
Summary: Thirty-two years later...
Warnings: DH Spoilers, Epilogue compliant
Notes: This fic started out from a prompt for
random_loves's birthday. She requested Harry and Hermione falling in love at age 50/51. Not an affair. Special thanks to quite_grey for the beta! Any remaining mistakes belong to me. Comments and concrit are most welcome!Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.
Part one
After Happily Ever After
Part 2
“Where is he?”
Hermione barely had time to swing the front door open before Ron stomped through, his Ministry-issued black robes sweeping in his wake, oddly reminiscent of Professor Snape from so many years ago.
Hermione decided it would be best to keep that particular observation to herself.
“He’s not here.”
Ron’s eyes darted around Hermione’s small sitting area as if daring Harry to pop out from under one of the sofa cushions. He took a couple steps toward the hallway leading to the two bedrooms, but paused and turned back to face her.
“Where did he go?”
“For a walk, I suspect.” Truthfully, Hermione wasn’t sure as Harry hadn’t been at the flat when she’d returned from work a half-hour ago, but that wasn’t unusual. Hermione could only remember one time in the last week since he’d moved in that Harry had come home first.
He always showed up in time to make dinner though, usually with something fresh from the shop around the corner, but whenever she questioned him about where he’d been, he would always answer with a vague mention of a walk around the neighbourhood to clear his head. Hermione figured if that was a good enough answer for her, it was good enough for Ron.
Ron, who was currently plopped down on her sofa with a stubborn set to his jaw.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
“All right.” Hermione pursed her lips as she shut the front door. “I was just about to have a cup of tea. Would you like some?”
“No.” Ron fisted his robes, staring intently at the hearth. The vein in his temple throbbed with the flex of his knuckles and his closely-cropped ginger hair did nothing to hide the rising flush on his neck.
“It might calm you down,” Hermione said lightly. Ron grumbled something indiscernible under his breath and Hermione decided that perhaps letting Ron seethe alone even for the few minutes it would take to prepare tea wasn’t the best idea.
She perched on the armchair to his left.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Ron muttered.
“You’re not keeping me.” Hermione folded her hands in her lap. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Ron’s face flooded with colour, his lips twisting to a scowl. “You know bloody well what’s wrong.”
Hermione took a calming breath. “I take it Harry told you-”
“He didn’t tell me anything! I’ve been on assignment all week and came home last night to find Ginny crying in Luna’s arms—and the bastard didn’t even have the nerve to show up for work today. He went on leave. Coward.”
“Harry’s not a coward,” Hermione snapped automatically. Ron ignored her, spurting out clipped words as he continued to rant.
But Hermione was far more worried about the fact that Harry had taken a leave from the Ministry without telling her about it first. It wasn’t as if she’d asked; she’d been trying very hard to give Harry his space the last few days as whenever she brought up how he was feeling or anything remotely to do with Ginny, he would close himself off in his room for the rest of the night. She hadn’t wanted to push, but she still assumed he was going to work after she left the flat in the mornings. Keeping a normal routine was important; she knew that from her own experience and several books she’d consulted during her divorce from Ron. It did no good to languish around brooding all day.
“…and it’s a good thing he stepped down from being the Head of the Aurors, too, or else we’d have a real mess on our hands-”
Hermione’s attention snapped back to Ron. “What?”
“You didn’t know?” Ron looked at her for the first time since sitting down on the sofa. She numbly shook her head.
“Three months ago. He said he was tired of all the responsibility, but Ginny reckons that he just wanted to be back in the field—any excuse to be away from home after Lily finally moved out.”
“Ron, you don’t know that.” Hermione reached out to touch his forearm, but Ron snatched his arm away.
“I suppose you do.” Ron narrowed his eyes. “Well, since he’s not around to tell his side of things, go ahead then.”
“It’s not my place,” Hermione said, though the last thing she wanted to admit was that she didn’t know Harry’s side.
Ron leaned forward. “Did he tell you that he went ahead and talked to their kids? Told them they were separated behind Ginny’s back? Didn’t even give Ginny a chance to-”
Hermione’s stomach churned. “Ron, stop-”
“You didn’t know that, did you?” A flicker of regret crossed Ron’s face before he looked to the door. When he turned back to Hermione again, all she could see was pain lining his eyes. “I should have known you’d defend him.”
“I’m not defending him. I’m his friend.” She softened her voice. “And from what I remember, so are you.”
“Ginny’s my little sister.”
Hermione reached for him again. “You don’t have to pick a side.”
Ron ducked his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like seeing her going through what I—what we…”
“Ron…” Hermione squeezed his arm. “But it all worked out all right, remember? We’re both happier now. You’re with Luna, and I’m—we’re friends, still close friends.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, but he averted his gaze and stood up from the sofa, making a vague gesture to the door. “I think I should-”
Hermione stood after him. “You don’t want to-”
“No, I—” Ron glanced at her then back at the door. “I don’t think I should see Harry yet.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Hermione badly wanted to give him a hug, but she could barely keep up with him as he headed to the door. She settled for another quick squeeze of his arm as he mumbled a promise to firecall her later, and before she could reply, he was gone.
Hermione closed the door and leaned back against it with a sigh, wishing there was a book she could read that would tell her the right words to say to Harry when he finally came home.
Go to Part 3
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