Chapter Text
Hermione and Ron (1998)
On the first weekend that Hogwarts students were permitted to visit Hogsmeade, Paulina awoke before sunrise.
Preparing for a Hogwarts day required a lot of extra work. The students always streamed into the cafe as soon as Paulina opened. They’d have their post-breakfast coffees before starting their shopping. They’d come in for a tea after lunch with their sweetheart. The crowd usually didn’t subside until a half hour before the students were expected back at the castle.
Well, at least they did two years ago. Last year had been…an anomaly. A horrific, terrible anomaly that Paulina would like to leave behind.
But children were resilient. They’d come back to the cafe, ready to mingle once again.
In preparation, Paulina ordered more inventory than she had the previous year, and decked out the cafe in her signature autumnal decor. New this year were leaves that fell from the ceiling, changing from between yellow, orange, red, and gold as they fell down to the tables, disappearing right above each patron’s head.
And fall flavours for tea and coffee were always a hit with students. Pumpkin spice lattes, harvest moon fruity teas, cranberry-apple ciders, and spiced mulled wine for patrons who were of age. She contracted with a small baker who lived in the village to provide sweet treats, like cinnamon buns, maple biscuits, and apple crumble cakes.
She grabbed one of the biscuits from behind the counter and munched on it as she surveyed the cafe. It looked lovely. The falling leaves were really a nice touch this year. Pokey was on the counter, sitting in a crouched position and watching the leaves disappear before they reached him. He lifted a paw, curiously trying to bat away a leaf, and watched it disappear in a puff of orange and gold sparkles.
“Alright, Pokey,” Paulina stroked the kneazle’s fur as opening time drew near. “Are you ready for the mad rush to begin?”
Paulina tottered briskly to the door and threw it open, bell tinkling merrily, ready to welcome the students back with a warm smile and a hot cuppa.
She stopped short, confused.
Where was everyone?
Did she get the date wrong for the first visit?
Poking her head out the door, Paulina looked left and right up and down the High Street. No, this was the correct weekend. Here was Ginny Weasley walking backwards down the street, smiling indulgently at Luna Lovegood. And there was Dennis Creevey holding the door open for Astoria Greengrass to enter Zonko’s before following his friends Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote through the door. Several Third Year Hufflepuff students Paulina had never seen before ran down the High Street, making a beeline for The Three Broomsticks.
Ah, there’s Minerva. Paulina waved brightly to the Headmistress, but Minerva either didn’t see her or chose to ignore her, heading straight into Aberforth’s disgusting hole of a place.
Paulina stood at the front door of the cafe for a full ten minutes before admitting defeat. No one was coming into the cafe today. Why was no one coming into the cafe today?
Feeling weary in body and spirit, Paulina sat down hard on one of the chairs by the door. Where were all the students? Why weren’t they lining up for a table at Madam Puddifoot’s like they used to…before?
Paulina waited for another half an hour in the front of the cafe, but not a single student came inside. She walked behind the counter and poured herself a cup of mulled wine before pulling out a copy of today’s Prophet.
She read the front page article on the Wizengamot reforms (like they’ll actually do any good), and then continued on to a profile of the newest members of the Auror Department (this is just one big piece about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley with barely any mentions of the other new recruits), and she was just about to begin a promising article titled “Redemption? Former Child Death Eater Seeks Forgiveness: Analysing Draco Malfoy’s Apology Letter to Wizarding Community,” when Paulina heard the chime of the doorbell.
The door slowly swung open as a young boy poked his head in. When he met Paulina’s eyes, he flushed bright red and muttered a hasty apology before backing out of the cafe.
“No! Wait!” Paulina called after him, advancing toward the door, “Do you want a cup of—“
The child’s round face disappeared as the door closed again, and Paulina found herself staring at a small pumpkin that was charmed to wish patrons a good day when they left.
“Thank you for visiting Madam Puddifoot’s, and we hope you enjoy—“
“Oh, shut up,” she said, shooting a quick Silencio at the offending vegetable.
“This might be a very long day, Pokey,” she muttered to the kneazle. Pokey remained blissfully unaware of the morning’s disaster and napped happily in a sunbeam by the front window.
For the next two hours, Paulina flitted between opening the front door to confirm that, yes, it was definitely a Hogsmeade weekend and she did not have the date wrong, to walking back into her office to try and get some paperwork out of the way, to sitting at a table in the front of the cafe with the newspaper to make it look like there were patrons inside.
The last bit was pathetic, she conceded, but she couldn’t understand it. Where were the students?
After the third round of her pitiful cycle with nary a student, professor, hag, nor goblin entering the cafe, Paulina slumped at the counter and poured herself another glass of mulled wine. If no one was coming, then no one would see her drinking the day away.
As Paulina brought the cup to her lips, she was startled by the doorbell finally (finally!) chiming. Whipping her head around, and vanishing the cup of wine, she looked toward the the door to see a young woman balancing the weight of her satchel on her shoulder. In addition to the heavy load in her bag, she was also carrying several tomes in one hand, and a small beaded bag in the other.
It was Hermione Granger.
“My dear!” Paulina hurried toward the front of the cafe to help the girl inside. “Come inside and set those down!”
“Oh, they’re not heavy!” replied Hermione blithely. “I always use a weightless charm! But thank you!”
Hermione looked around the place and took in the fall decor. Paulina took the opportunity to study her. She looked a sight better than the photos from The Daily Prophet in May. After the final battle, the paper ran a feature on the Golden Trio, and Hermione looked…well…she had looked terrible.
At the time of the feature, Hermione Granger was nearly emaciated. From the story that she, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley told, they had nearly starved during the months they were on the run and hunting for You-Know-Who’s Horcruxes. But despite her meagre stature, her hair had a life of its own. She remembered an opinion piece that ran in the Prophet a week after the feature. A particularly nasty witch had written in with hair care tips for Hermione, ending with a vicious “if you need someone to help you procure a hairbrush, please don’t hesitate to ask for assistance.”
Paulina had chuckled when she read Ms. Granger’s reply to the spiteful witch the next day. “No, I do not own a hairbrush. I have very curly hair. Trust me when I tell you that if I ‘ran a brush through my curls’ like you so kindly suggest, my hair would require its own postcode. I suggest you find a new hobby. -HJG. P.S. If you don’t know what a postcode is, maybe you’d benefit from a remedial course of Muggle Studies.”
Hermione, while still slightly too thin, looked healthier than in that photo from the paper, and less likely to blow over from a strong gust of wind. Her hair was chopped very short, and she kept shaking her short curls out of her face. Her eyes were bright and curious, and her crooked mouth was— drat. Her mouth was moving.
“ —really clever magic to have the leaves change color like this and disappear. Did you invent the charm yourself, Madam Puddifoot?”
Hermione’s hand was outstretched toward a leaf that disappeared in a poof of glitter as she drew close.
“Well, thank you, dear. Yes, it is a charm of my own invention, modified from a rotting charm to include the sparkles and glitter…” Paulina trailed off. Hermione watched her in rapt attention. She didn’t think anyone had ever cared about exactly how she created any of her decoration spells before.
Paulina suddenly had an idea. “Won’t you have a seat and stay for a cup of tea, dear? They work you much too hard at that school.” Paulina began ushering Hermione away from the exit. “How about I write it down the charm work for you? That way I’ll know I’ve told you the correct permutations of the spells.”
“Perfect!” beamed Hermione. “I’m actually meeting someone here in a bit. I’ll have a cup of coffee. With two sugars and a dash of milk, please?”
“I’ll have that right out, Ms. Granger.” She led Hermione to a small table near the front of the store. The Golden Girl would be clearly visible to anyone walking by; Paulina hoped that would encourage more patrons to come in today.
Hermione began to set her things down on the table, but after a quick glance through the window, she turned a little pale and said, “Oh, no.”
Scooping up her books, she backed away from the window and nearly stepped on Pokey, who got away just in time with an angry yowl.
“Madam Puddifoot, I’m so sorry, but—“ Hermione was looking around the cafe in alarm. “—can I sit at a different table? Maybe one not so close to the window?”
Poor darling. Probably still not used to big crowds after what she went through.
Paulina put her arm around Hermione. “Of course, dear. Just follow me.” And Paulina led her to the small table just outside her office door. If Ms. Granger wouldn’t sit near the window to help attract patrons into the cafe, she could at least provide some much-needed entertainment while Paulina sat in her office.
“Is this all right, dear?” Paulina gestured toward the table and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yes, thank you. It’s just—I didn’t want to talk to—“
Hermione looked up at Paulina and cut off. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. This is perfect.” Hermione began stacking her books on the table before pulling out a Self-Inking Quill and a piece of parchment. She bent her head over the table and began to scribble furiously.
Paulina stared at her for a moment before walking toward the counter to make Hermione her coffee.
Paulina glanced back at Hermione as the coffee brewed. It’s too bad she didn’t want to sit by the window. It certainly wouldn’t have hurt to have the Golden Girl visible through the window in my shop.
As Paulina waited for the coffee to brew, the doorbell chimed once more, and a bald, very tall, very skinny young man stormed into the cafe and walked straight up to Hermione.
“What the fuck is this, Granger?” The boy held a parchment aloft and shoved it in her face.
Hermione stared up at the boy, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.
“Granger!” The boy’s scornful voice was familiar, but Paulina couldn’t place it.
“I—it’s—“ stammered Hermione.
The boy shook the parchment in her face again, and Hermione’s face contorted in fury.
“Don’t shove that in my face, Malfoy!”
Paulina froze near the counter. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? She briefly considered casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself.
“—stop shaking this parchment in your swotty little face once you tell me why in Salazar’s name you are trying to schedule my life—“
Hermione stood up quickly, her short ringlets bouncing and bobbing around her head with fury as she snatched the parchment away from Draco.
“This—“ she poked the parchment violently with her finger. “—is a proposed study schedule for us to meet outside of class and work on—“
“I know what it is, Granger. I’m not an idiot.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job at acting like one.”
Paulina couldn’t look away. Bathed in orange lantern light, Draco and Hermione stared at each other. Hermione’s face was screwed up in anger as she glared up at Draco. Draco’s fists were balled up tight and pressed into his legs. Both of them were breathing heavily.
Then, at the same time:
“Look, Granger, I may have overreacted—“
“I should have checked with you—“
They both stopped abruptly, waiting for the other to continue.
“What I meant to say was—“
“All I was trying to say—“
They both stopped again, and Hermione let out a nervous giggle before looking down at her feet.
Draco held out one hand in a courteous gesture of invitation. “Please, ladies first.”
Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at Draco’s face again. “I didn’t check with you first because I haven’t had the chance. You show up to class last minute, and then leave immediately once the lecture is done. I even checked with some Slytherins at dinner one night, and they said you don’t always come to meals. Or you’re busy with As—“
“I know. Some daft Sixth Years showed up to the common room one night asking me about my Gryffindor girlfriend.” Draco practically spat the last word into Hermione’s face.
Hermione recoiled before screwing up her face. “Well, I won’t apologise for trying to speak to you about—“
“Stop, Granger. You don’t have to apologise to me.” Draco brought a hand up to his head and ran it back and forth.
There was an awkward silence for a few moments as Hermione looked up expectantly at Draco. He looked down at the parchment and studied it for a few seconds before asking, “What if your proposed schedule interferes with Quidditch practice?”
“It won’t,” Hermione replied promptly. “I checked with Madam Hooch to see when Slytherin had the Quidditch pitch booked. She let me see the full schedule for all the house teams. Then using a modified version of the Protean Charm, I charmed the parchment to reject any proposed study sessions that conflicted with your practice.”
Modified Protean Charm? That’s advanced, even for N.E.W.T. level!
Hermione was now holding up the parchment and pointing at it with her wand. “See, yesterday, I tried scheduling a session for us on Wednesday evening but—“
She touched her wand to the parchment, which glowed red. Paulina couldn’t see the words that bloomed in crimson ink, but she assumed that it was Hermione’s spell taking effect and rejecting the proposed session.
Draco stared at the parchment for a moment before looking up at Hermione. “That…that’s incredible,” he said, almost under his breath. Hermione flushed pink.
Draco held out a hand for the parchment again and studied it briefly. “And if I wanted to schedule a session, but it conflicted with one of your commitments?”
“Oh, I, erm…I’m fairly free.” She looked back down and moved some books around on the table.
“But what if you do have a conflict?” Draco pressed. “When do Potter and Weasley usually visit?”
Hermione fiddled with a stray thread on the sleeve of her jumper before looking back up at Draco. “Well, I can add another charm to your parchment that will reject any proposed sessions that don’t work for me,” she said hurriedly, picking up her wand and pointing it at the parchment.
For a moment, the young man and woman looked the picture of friendship. Their heads were bowed together, as Hermione spoke an incantation in a low voice and waved her wand over the parchment. Draco kept glancing up at Hermione’s face and then quickly looking back down at the parchment as she worked the spell.
At that moment, the doorbell sounded once again, and Paulina looked up hopefully.
Astoria Greengrass stood unmoving in the doorway, staring at Draco and Hermione, who were both engrossed in the charm that Hermione was performing on Draco’s parchment.
Patrons! Finally! Paulina started for the door to greet Astoria and show her to a table, but as soon as she saw Paulina approaching her, Astoria startled, mumbled an apology under her breath, and left the way she came.
“Fuck, fuck! Astoria, wait!” Draco rushed across the cafe and toward the door, yelling a hasty apology over his shoulder at Paulina, “Excuse me, Madam.” He rushed out the door to chase after Astoria.
“Thank you for visiting Madam Puddifoot’s, and we hope you enjoy the rest of your day!”
Paulina stared at the pumpkin for a moment before whipping back around to see Hermione’s reaction. She stared with confusion toward the door and then looked toward Paulina and shrugged, completely nonplussed.
“Is my coffee nearly ready? And I think I’ll have one of those apple crumble cakes, please?”
“So sorry for the delay, Ms. Granger. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.” Paulina tottered back toward the counter to gather Hermione’s coffee before levitating a slice of cake, a cup of coffee, some cream, and sugar over to the table. The mug landed right on top of the study schedule that Draco had left behind in his haste to chase after Astoria.
Paulina decided to pry. “I do hope that Mr. Malfoy is all right.”
Hermione gave an unladylike snort. “Oh, I’m sure he’s just begging Astoria for forgiveness…explaining why he wasn’t escorting her around like a proper pureblood princess.” She spat out the last three words, plosives exploding from her mouth with derision.
Oh? I didn’t realise that he was this taken with Ms. Greengrass. It must be getting serious between those two. I wonder when we can expect the formal betrothal announced in the Prophet…
“—for the coffee. I’ll just study for a bit now until Ron gets here.” Hermione gave Paulina a polite smile that was clearly a dismissal.
Paulina traipsed back into her office and sat down heavily into her desk chair, looking at Hermione as she bent over her parchment and books, nose nearly brushing the page as became absorbed once again in her work.
Paulina watched Hermione for a minute before her eyelids began to grow heavy. She woke up so early today, after all, and the usual adrenaline from seeing patrons and working hard all day was foiled by the lack of visitors to the cafe.
I’ll just rest my eyes…just for a few minutes…
Paulina jerked awake at the chiming of the door bell.
“‘lo, Hermione.” A greeting floated into Paulina’s office and she watched Hermione’s head jerk up at being addressed. A flash of disappointment crossed her face, before rearranging into a polite smile.
“Hi, Dennis. You stopping in for a tea?”
A customer! Paulina jumped up from the desk and started toward the office door when she heard the young man’s reply, “No, I was just wondering…has anyone else been in here today? I mean…have you noticed anyone?”
Hermione frowned. “No, no one’s been in here. It’s been unusually quiet, actually. The perfect place to study today.”
Paulina scowled. A perfect place to study…I didn’t put up all of these decorations for the cafe to be a glorified library.
“Oh…all right. Well, thanks anyway, Hermione.” The boy sounded disappointed. As Paulina poked her head out of the office door, she saw Dennis Creevey turning around, getting ready to leave.
“Sorry, Dennis,” Hermione looked apologetically at Dennis’s retreating form. “It’s just been me, with a slight interruption from Draco bloody Malfoy.”
Dennis stopped short and pivoted back toward Hermione. “Malfoy? Was…was he alone?”
Hermione sniffed. “He just came in to yell at me for planning out a study schedule. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. He left when he saw his girlfriend—“ she positively sneered at the word, “—and ran after her—“
“His girlfriend?” Dennis’s voice sounded odd.
Oh dear, he doesn’t stand a chance if he’s competing with Malfoy money and prestige. Though I’m sure this boy is infinitely more charming than any Malfoy I’ve ever met…
“Yes, aren’t he and Astoria Greengrass going out?” Hermione returned to her parchment and was sorting it in three different piles as she delivered this news to a stricken Dennis.
“I—I didn’t realise they were official.”
“Yes...no…well, I don’t know…” Hermione sounded preoccupied, and Dennis, after realizing that she was barely paying him any attention anymore, turned around and abruptly left the cafe.
“Thank you for visiting Madam Puddifoot’s, and we hope you enjoy the rest of your day!”
“What?” Hermione looked up, startled to find Dennis gone, and then turned toward Paulina. “Did Dennis leave?”
“Yes, dear. Only just.” Without ordering anything. “Could I get you another cup? Another sweet?”
“Yes, another coffee, please. I’m supposed to be meeting someone but he’s really late…” She checked her watch and frowned before turning back to her books.
She said she was meeting her boyfriend…I wonder what’s keeping him? He’s not the type to stand her up.
For next hour, Paulina flitted between the front of the shop to serve the few children who stopped by for a cup of tea, to back to her office, where she stared at the massive order she was compiling for next month. After staring at the order form for a few moments, she whispered, “Incendio” and lit the parchment on fire.
Paulina’s stomach gave a lurch. I’ll need to adjust all my ordering…again. I really thought it would be better this year.
Hermione’s voice cut through the silence, laced with irritation. “Where were you? I’ve been sitting here alone like an idiot for hours.”
“Sorry, sorry. Work stuff…you know how it is…”
Paulina looked up to see Ron Weasley giving Hermione a little peck on the cheek before folding himself into the opposite chair.
In the brief look she had gotten while he was greeting his girlfriend, Paulina could see that Ron also looked much improved from his photograph in The Daily Prophet feature from this past spring. In May, much like Hermione and Harry, Ron also looked emaciated, with a haunted look in his blue eyes. His hair had been long enough to tuck behind his ears, and he had been photographed leaning on a small crutch due to a nasty curse from the final battle.
Since the feature, Ron looked like he had gained back most, if not all, of the weight he lost during his time on the run. Molly Weasley’s cooking could fatten up even the meanest, skinniest man. His leg looked mostly healed, though he still walked with a bit of a limp. He elected to cut his hair rather than keep the long locks. It was, of course, still as red as ever.
Paulina remembered being captivated by him in that photo of the Golden Trio. Despite everything they had been through, the photo looped through Ron throwing back his head in laughter, to looking down at Hermione with an adoring smile, to finally looking up at the camera and fixing the reader with a poignant stare. This laughter-smile-stare combination had fascinated Paulina. Here was a boy, who by his own admission, abandoned his best friend and his girlfriend in the middle of the most important task of their lives. How did he cope with the guilt? What was the true story of Harry and Hermione forgiving him? Did they forgive him or were they just putting up a front for the general public?
By the way Hermione was smiling up at him now, it did seem like she had forgiven him. The two of them began clearing Hermione’s rolls of parchment and books off the table and setting them on the ground. Paulina jumped to her feet and scuttled over to get a better look at Ron and take his order.
“Ms. Granger? How are you getting on? Oh, and Mr. Weasley! How lovely to see you!”
Paulina beamed down at Ron and was nearly blown away by his piercing blue eyes. He was as freckled as any Weasley Paulina ever met, and his red hair glinted with gold in the afternoon light. As he shrugged off his outer robes, a strange and whirling eddy of scars swirled up his arms and underneath his shirt sleeves.
“Er—hi.” Ron shot Hermione a look of bewilderment before looking back up at Paulina.
This boy is in Auror training? I’ll admit, he has the look, with the haircut and the scars, but in mannerism? He’s about as subtle as a chimaera.
“Could I get you something to drink, Mr. Weasley?” Paulina asked. She was truly a paragon of patience.
“Er, yes. I’ll have some tea? Please?”
“Right away, Mr. Weasley.”
As Paulina prepared Ron’s tea, she glanced sidelong at Ron and Hermione. Ron was attempting to stack all of Hermione’s scrolls into a pyramid, and waved his wand to force them to stay put in their formation. As soon as he released the spell, the scrolls all toppled over.
“Ugh. I’ll do it,” huffed Hermione. Ron stiffened. Hermione moved her wand in a complicated motion, and the scrolls froze in position, unmoving.
There was a moment of silence as Hermione looked around the cafe, avoiding making eye contact with Ron.
“Sorry I was late,” began Ron cautiously.
“Yes, where were you? Malfoy came in and screamed at me for—“
“Malfoy?” asked Ron, sharply. “He came in and screamed at you?” The boy was ballooning up in anger and began to get up and out of his chair. “When? Where is he now? His release was conditional on good behaviour, you know. If he was yelling at you without provocation, I’ll arrest him. Death Eater scum—“
“Ron. Calm down.” Hermione looked around the shop, alarmed, and pulled on Ron’s arm to get him to sit back down. “Calm down,” she hissed.
Ron muttered something confusing under his breath about sending ferrets to Azkaban.
“Ron, don’t be silly!” she whacked him on the arm. “What’s gotten into you?”
Ron was still puffed up. “Why was Malfoy yelling at you?”
“I—I exaggerated. He wasn’t yelling. He just came into the shop and acted a little cross with me, that’s all.”
“But why was he cross with you?” Ron pressed.
Hermione scoffed. “Oh, well, turns out I’ll have to study with him a little bit this year for Arithmancy. Prat.”
Ron was once again inflating in anger. “And he came in to yell at you because he doesn’t want to study with you? If he’s spouting any prejudiced shite again, I’ll—”
“No, no! Nothing like that. He was angry because…well—“ Hermione looked sheepishly into her coffee cup. “Do you remember those study schedules I used to make for you and Harry?”
Ron stopped trying to leave his chair and froze for several moments.
“You didn’t.”
Hermione bristled. “Well, I don’t know his work ethic! He could be on top of things like me, or he could very well be like…well, like you and Harry.” She finished her sentence tentatively and looked up at Ron with a cautious expression.
Now he’ll really lose his temper.
To Paulina’s surprise, Ron threw his head back and started laughing. It was a lovely sound.
“What? What?” Hermione whacked him on the arm several more times.
“It’s just…Harry and I were just talking last week…” Ron said in between bouts of laughter. “We were just saying that you finally were rid of us at Hogwarts, and now here you are, making study schedules for Malfoy of all people—“
“It’s not funny, Ronald.” Hermione was trying to hide the small smile that threatened to blossom on her face.
“Are you going to buy him a homework planner for Christmas? Merlin, Hermione, that was probably the worst Christmas present Harry ever received. And one year his aunt and uncle sent him an old sock!”
Ron reached out and grabbed her hand just as she was about to smack him again.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Ron said quickly, bringing Hermione’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss against her fingers.
Hermione gave Ron an aggrieved look, but cracked a smile when he brought his other hand to rest on top of hers.
“Well, I’m not the only Gryffindor paired with a Slytherin. Dean is partnered with Theodore Nott, do you remember him?”
“That weedy looking boy that was always hanging around with Zabini?”
“Yeah, he’s actually okay. Dean and I have been talking to him a bit about Muggle music and he’s starting some lessons on the drums with an old warlock in the village.”
“Really?” Ron sounded mildly impressed.
Paulina recalled seeing the Nott boy walking around Hogsmeade with Draco Malfoy last week, both of them emerging from the old drummer’s home looking happier than she’d seen either of them in years.
Ron and Hermione were now quietly sitting and looking around the cafe. Ron kept craning his head to look out the window, and Hermione cast several longing glances at her books and scrolls on the floor.
After delivering Ron his tea, Paulina looked around the nearly empty cafe and sighed. She walked around, asking the few patrons who came in if they wanted refills, but everyone declined and left after one beverage. Only Ron and Hermione remained, and they didn’t need her at the moment. She walked back into her office and dropped heavily into her chair. Pokey jumped into her lap, offering a bit of comfort.
Just as she was about to put her glasses back on to continue some of her paperwork, she heard Ron speak.
“So listen…I’m glad we’re meeting today,” Ron began carefully.
“Oh?” Hermione looked a little distracted. Paulina looked under the table. Hermione was trying to jostle one of the scrolls out of the pyramid so that it would be visible underneath the table.
“It’s just…I’ve been offered this opportunity. At work.”
Hermione frowned and finally looked up at him. “Opportunity?”
Ron leaned forward. “Yeah! Well, the Ministry is looking to overhaul the Auror program, now that they’re switching their focus to tracking down the rest of Greyback’s pack.”
“Oh, yes, you mentioned. I still think that’s a mistake. There are loads of Voldemort supporters—oh, honestly, Ronald!” Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes. “He’s dead! Surely you’re not going to keep saying “You-Know-Who” for the rest of your life, are you?”
Ron looked down at his lap, mumbling, “It’s a hard habit to break.”
Hermione scoffed. “I even heard Malfoy saying it the other day, and—“
“Oh, if Malfoy does something, you want me to do it now, too?”
“No, of course not! I was just saying that if a former Death Eater—“
“And now you want to compare me to a former Death Eater?“
“That’s utterly preposterous, and you know it!” Hermione’s eyes darted around the cafe, confirming that no one was listening before continuing in a hiss, “You’re just trying to pick another fight with me so that you can have another lad’s night with Anthony and Justin instead of coming up to the castle for dinner with me, and I’m sorry to say that—“
Ron laughed, interrupting her. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not trying to pick a fight, Hermione. And besides, I know you. You’d be thrilled if I walked out that door and left you with your books and your study schedule, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I wouldn’t!”
Ron remained silent and crossed his arms over his chest.
Hermione’s eyes softened and she reached out one hand to him tentatively.
“I don’t want to fight,” she murmured.
“Seems like that’s all we do these days,” said Ron, letting out a hollow laugh.
“It’s been a difficult transition for both of us, I think—“
“It didn’t have to be so hard, Hermione! They were ready to give you any job you wanted in the Ministry. I don’t understand—“
“I wasn’t qualified for any of those jobs, I need N.E.W.T.s for every single position I’m interested in—“
“Are you saying I’m not qualified? That Harry’s not qualified—“
“No, I never said that—“
“Yes, you did! You just said that you weren’t qualified for any job you were interested in, and I know you looked through that Auror leaflet—“
“Are you seriously arguing with me about how I looked at a leaflet one time in Fifth—“
“I know you considered it!”
“Fine!” Hermione raised her voice and held up her hands in defeat. “I considered it once! But that’s neither here nor there.” Hermione was bathed in orange light. The way it flickered clashed horribly with Ron’s hair. “The point I was trying to make was that I felt it was important for me to continue my education!”
Ron scoffed loudly.
She lowered her voice, “Ron, you know what I want! A Ministry career, in a place where I can actually affect change in this government. I need N.E.W.T.s, Ron. I can’t have anyone not taking me seriously. And you know it’s different for me than it is for you.”
Ron watched her silently. “I know,” he said quietly. He ran his hands through his hair, rumpling it so it glinted more orange than ever in the lantern light. “Look, Hermione,” Ron sounded strained. “I really didn’t want to argue today.”
“Neither did I,” said Hermione, earnestly. She held out her palm on the table, face up, and Ron grabbed it.
“The reason—“ Ron cleared his throat. “The reason I was late today was that Harry and I both got a promotion.”
“Ron!” Hermione’s eyes shone with fondness and surprise. “So soon? But you’ve only just joined up! They must really see incredible potential in you both! Wow, Ron! Wow! What does the promotion entail?”
Her face suddenly grew fearful. “Will you be out in the field more? Are they sending you to deal with that vampire coven up in Hull? Do you feel like you know enough about vampires? I’m sure I can find some books in the library—“
“Hermione, no.” Ron was shaking his head. “They’re not sending me into the field just yet. They’re—“
Ron broke off and took a deep breath before blurting out, “I’m going for a specialised international forces training in America. In January.”
Hermione stared at him blankly.
“For…for six months,” he finished softly.
“You’re being sent to America?” She sounded confused. “And this is a promotion?”
“Yeah!” Ron sounded relieved that Hermione wasn’t disappointed or yelling at him, but Paulina knew shock when she saw it. “Yeah, it’s a really great program, Hermione! The International Confederation of Wizards invites governments to select a couple Aurors from their forces and they do this six month long boot camp where we learn intense duelling tactics, about dealing with Class XXXXX beasts…it’s like an adult version of the D.A., really!”
“That’s…wonderful. But, Ron…for six months? Abroad? Can you come back and visit?”
“Well, no…that’s the rough bit, Hermione. It’s really limited outside contact. But I did ask, and guess what?” Ron was practically bouncing up and down in his seat in excitement. “Ilvermorny is willing to offer you a place starting in January! You could take your classes there, and then—“
“But I don’t go to Ilvermorny,” said Hermione, bemused. “I go here, to Hogwarts.”
Ron waved her concern away, like switching to an international school for your very last term wasn’t a completely cracked idea. Even Paulina, who was an awful student back in her day, knew that transferring now was a terrible idea.
“Well, you could finish at Ilvermorny—“
“I don’t want to finish at Ilvermorny. I want to finish here, at Hogwarts,” said Hermione mulishly.
Ron sounded impatient now, like Hermione was being deliberately obtuse. Perhaps she was, Paulina thought.
“Look, it’s a really big honour to be selected for the promotion. When they picked Harry, he wasn’t sure, but the stuff he brought home, the pamphlets and things, it just looked so cool, Hermione. And then I saw they take two people from each government, so I volunteered—“
“You volunteered?” interrupted Hermione. She stared at Ron, her mouth slightly open, her brow furrowed with confusion.
“Yeah, Hermione,” Ron said, slowly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I leave on the second of January, and it’s not too late if you want to come with—“
“Wait.” Hermione’s voice gained a strident quality as she bent closer to Ron, leaning over the table. “Is this all settled? You’re going for sure?”
“Well, yeah. That’s why I was late today. I signed the final contract for the promotion and put in the international portkey application right before I Apparated here. Don’t worry, I put your name on the portkey, as well.” He squared his shoulders and sat up straight.
He sounds so proud. Foolish boy.
“Let me get this straight,” Hermione began slowly, clenching her fists on top of the table. Unable to conceal the wrath building within, her voice began to shake. “You are going to America for specialised Auror training for six months. You’ve known about this opportunity for…?” She trailed off, looking expectantly at Ron.
“Oh, er…I applied back in August.”
“So you have known about this opportunity for months,” the pitch of Hermione’s voice raised higher and higher as she continued. “And you are only now telling your girlfriend?”
“You’re not my mother, Hermione.” Ron’s voice was filled with annoyance. “I don’t have to check with you first.”
“And did you check with Molly first?” Hermione shot back.
A flush slowly crept up the back of his neck.
“I don’t believe it!” Hermione’s voice became slightly shrill. Paulina had no trouble at all hearing her now. “You seriously asked your mother if you could go on this trip?”
“I didn’t ask her, I just, er, informed her about this opportunity—“
Hermione sounded near tears now. “And you didn’t think to inform me?”
“I’m telling you now! And I did a lot of extra work looking into the Ilvermorny thing, Hermione. I want you to come with me. We can finally be together, we can—“
“Ron! This is a huge decision, and—“
“Fine. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.” The entire cafe was glowing with orange lantern light now. “You’ll finish up here at Hogwarts, while I’m in America…we’ll both be busy…”
“Ron,” Hermione sounded tearful. “I just can’t believe you want to leave Britain, leave me—“
“I’m not leaving you! I want you to—” Ron shouted.
“You basically are! You’re fucking off to America for six whole—“
Ron stood up abruptly. “I’m not fucking off anywhere—“
“Sit down, Ron,” hissed Hermione, looking around. Paulina looked down at her desk and shuffled a few papers around, pretending she was minding her own business.
“It’s for work, Hermione,” Ron whispered angrily. “It’s my job. This could be huge for us—“
“Who is us, Ron?” Paulina glanced back up and saw Hermione ringlets bouncing, vibrating angrily on her head. “Certainly not you and me. You know, maybe there shouldn’t even be a you and me if you’re going—“
“What?”
Ron stiffened and Hermione blanched, stammering, “I—I didn’t mean that.”
“You want to split up?” Ron sounded devastated.
“No!” Anguish seeped from her voice as she looked at Ron beseechingly and wrung her hands. “No, of course, I don’t want to, but Ron…how will we see each other? It’s already hard enough for you to come up on Hogsmeade weekends—“
“Well, if you won’t come with me, there’s international portkeys—“
“Which cost an arm and a leg,” interrupted Hermione. “I don’t have a job yet. I’m still in school. Ron…” Hermione hid her face in her hands. She was silent for a few moments, and when Paulina peeked at the table again, she saw Hermione’s shoulders shaking.
Ron reached out a hand and hovered over Hermione’s shoulder, then her hand, as if to comfort her, and then thought better of it.
“Hermione, I…” His voice cracked. “I really thought you’d want to come with me. I had it all sorted.”
“You didn’t ask me, Ron!” Hermione looked up at Ron, her face blotchy and eyes swollen.
“I’ll…I’ll put off the training. I don’t think Robards is going to file the paperwork until Monday.”
“No, you can’t do that! This is too important.“
“Hermione, nothing is more important than you!” Ron’s voice broke into a sob at the end.
Paulina bowed her head over the desk. She rarely felt intrusive, but watching this relationship blow up at the table did feel like crossing a line. Hermione and Ron were now holding hands across the table and looking into each other’s eyes. Tears were streaming down Hermione’s face, and from the way that Ron’s broad shoulders were moving jerkily, Paulina could tell he was crying, too.
After several heart-wrenching moments, Hermione wiped at her eyes and croaked out, “You have to go for this opportunity, Ron.”
“No, I don’t—“
“Yes,” said Hermione, forcefully. “You’ll go to America, and I’ll stay here.”
“How will we see each other?”
“We…we won’t,” sniffed Hermione. “I can’t maintain a long-distance relationship while I’m studying for N.E.W.T.s, Ron. I feel like a neglectful enough girlfriend as it is. I can’t commit to visiting you, you can’t commit to visiting me…this can’t work while you’re gone, but you can’t give up the opportunity. And I won’t give up my education to follow you and cobble together some sort of curriculum at a school I know next to nothing about.”
“Are you—“ Ron’s voice broke. “Hermione, are we splitting up?”
Several more tears fell down Hermione’s cheeks, and she hastily wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Ron froze for a moment, and despite the teenage tragedy unfolding in front of her, Paulina had to admire the effect that the blue lantern light had in conjunction with the falling leaves. “I don’t think we need to split up—“
“Yes, we do,” said Hermione quietly, choking back a sob. “I’ll go crazy wondering what you’re doing over there, Ron. And you’ll go crazy wondering about me. The papers already aren’t kind to me.” She let out a dull laugh. “Remember what happened when that photograph of me and Seamus was printed last month—“
“But I know now that he just tripped onto you—“
“Ron. Imagine trying to explain an incident like this over long distance. And you’ll be with women I don’t know. Both of us are too jealous to cope with this.”
Paulina watched the two of them grasping each other’s hands, letting go only to wipe their eyes or their noses, before touching again.
“So we…we split up? I can’t believe this, Hermione. I can’t accept this.”
“Ron, this is the only way,” she said, sadly. “We’ll be together again, I know it. We’ve been through too much together to just give up now.”
Ron leaned over the table and kissed Hermione on the forehead. “If this is what you really think is best—“
“I do.”
Ron took a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
“We’ll…we’ll tell the papers we decided to take a break.”
“A break…right…” said Ron hollowly.
“I don’t want to give details, Ron! About how you didn’t tell me about this promotion until the last minute—“
“Or how you didn’t even look at the piles of research I did into Ilvermorny? Into the countless letters I sent to the International Confederation of Wizards to even get permission for my girlfriend to join me? The flat I found that has easy access to the MACUSA research centre?”
Hermione looked shocked. “I—I didn’t know you did all that work for me.”
“You didn’t even ask, Hermione! You just accused me of fucking off—“
“You didn’t ask me if I wanted to come with you in the first place—“
The lantern lights flickered bright orange again.
Ron stood up, pinching his nose. “Hermione, I can’t do this right now. Not here.” He fished in his pocket and drew out several coins, throwing them down on the table.
“I’ll owl you about Christmas. You’re obviously still invited, I just…I can’t be here right now, Hermione.” For a moment, he looked as if he was going to bend down and kiss her goodbye, but he abruptly turned and made for the door, his long legs carrying him out of the tea shop in a dozen strides.
“Thank you for visiting Madam Puddifoot’s, and we hope you enjoy the rest of your day!”
Paulina winced. That talking pumpkin was perhaps one of the worst ideas she’d ever had.
Hermione looked up from the table and stared at the door for a moment. Then, cradling her head in her arms, she bent down over the table and began to sob in earnest.