Chapter Text
As long as the main festivity took place everyone seemed to react rather well, but Ron had been right not to trust the peace.
Hermione was staring quietly into the flames nursing a cup of eggnog in her hands and her feet in a new pair of bright purple socks that their son Hugo knit her. They were very ugly but Hermione had still beamed all over her face when she unpacked them earlier today, crows' feet danced around a bright brown eyes. Ron and her were divorced for over a decade now but he still knew why he married her.
Hermione was beautiful, so fucking competent and her heart sometimes was even faster than her sharp wit. The years did only make her more beautiful with the first laughter lines appearing on her face and silvery stands peaking through her unruly locks. It wasn’t a lack of love that broke their marriage.
He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her from the corner of his eyes. It had been a long time since they’d been alone in a room without family or friends around. It felt a little weird to be in the living room, the epicentre the Burrow, and not having multiple family members buzzing around him.
The moment Ron’s boyfriend had left to catch the international portkey and go home to his own family in Sweden, every single member of the big family had miraculously disappeared to other parts of the house to do "something important" and left him alone with his ex-wife.
“Since when do you know you’re into men.” Hermione asked quietly and shot him a look that made his temper flare up. He clawed his hand so angry in of one of Mum’s hideous sofa cushions that the threadbare fabric started to break open under his fingertips. It wasn't fair that Hermione had the right to make him feel so guilty for bringing his boyfriend to his family for Christmas. Hermione had introduced a number of boyfriends to the Burrow during the years after the end of their marriage and he’d never reacted like this! He’d always been as polite and friendly as he could and had laughed and told bad jokes and tried to make them feel welcomed and comfortable.
For a moment he wanted to explode in her face and scream at her, but he’d learned to stifle his anger early on in his Auror training. It's not right towards Hermione too.
His anger isn’t just for her. It’s for himself, for the world around him and a little bit for his family that left him alone with this mess.
He thought he’d be over the shame by now.
He was allowed to be with a person he liked.
He was allowed to share his life with them, to introduce them his his family and his friends and enjoy being with them.
He didn’t feel like that though.
Being with Fatin felt good, but his hands were still shaking when they touched and he quickly took a step away from him every time he felt someone looking in their direction.
He still felt guilty and wrong.
Hermione watched him with intend now and it made his skin crawl. There was something in him that wanted out. He doesn’t know if he was about to throw up or cry.
“A while.” he muttered hoarsely avoiding her eyes.
He didn’t want to talk about how unnatural and fake he was.
He didn’t want anyone to see this ugly thing in his soul that made him turn towards wizards instead of witches.
Especially not Hermione.
He knew her though.
Knew that she wouldn't stop until she had torn every bit of information she wanted out of his cold-sweaty hands.
If she put her mind on it he didn’t stand a chance to her. He had to much respect and love for her too to lie to her face, if she really started to ask the right questions. that’s one reason why he never told her.
Nervously he rubbed his hands dry on his robes. his skin was damp from nervousness and even though they were in front of the big fire he was shivering under the slight draft that ghosted through the old family home.
“Is he your first...” She didn’t end the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Ron felt bare under her eyes.
Her stillness scared the shit out of him. Hermione was never quiet when it came to rubbish like that. She was loud and forceful and impatient when it came to feelings.
That he learned during their marriage. Learned to live with her stinging hexes and sharp tongue and her hands desperately clawing in his skin to find something stable.
This stillness was new.
He wasn't used to being the centre of attention like this. Instinctively he ducked his head low and shaggy red hair falls in his face to hide his face from her inquiring stare.
“No” he whispered pulling his shoulders high and hoping it would end soon. That she wouldn’t pry his chest open and make him show her all his ugliness. The big lie that was her marriage, their relationship.
“Is it my fault? Did I make you gay?”
“There’s no such a thing.” he growls and is shocked by his own harshness. “You can’t make people like that! I’ve always been like that, Hermione! I’m not proud of it, but I can’t be different and I can’t hide it any more! It hurts, ‘Mione! It hurts me! It hurts the kids! It not fair to Fatin!”
She stared at him like he’d just broke a part of her.
Maybe he had.
He’d known there’d be talking about his gay thing when he decided he’d bring his boyfriend home. To be fair it was the only way Fatin had been able to move him to even visit the Burrow for Christmas.
He’d been neither eating nor sleeping right since October and George and Harry had both started to complain about his sub-optimal performance at work.
Things had become unbearable.
As long as there were nothing serious and his companions changed often, he had not seen a reason to tell his family but as soon as the relationship with Fatin grew steadier felt miserable to lie to his family. He knew he needed to talk about this thing.
Just because he knew it. didn't make it less easy to do though. It still difficult for him to block that part of his life out, opening up himself to others like that was scary. talking with Hermione about this thing was nerve-wrecking.
There are tears burning behind his eyes, but he blinked them away and lifts his chin stubbornly.
“I know this is not...healthy. But it’s either having me with the gay thing or not having me at all.”
He’s said it.
Hermione opened her mouth but there are no words.
Then her face turned to something behind him making Ron look up.
Ron has never seen his big brother so full of fury and he's seen his share of Percy’s anger over the years. They’d both inherited the destructive temper Mum Weasley could wield but in comparison to Ron, Percy never had a single lesson Auror training to suppress it.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed about! Don’t you dare to apologise to her!” he thundered and his fingers dig deep into Ron's shoulder. “Neither she nor anyone else has a say in who you want to be with!” Ron doesn’t know if he’s grateful or terrified.
Being stuck between a confused Hermione and Percy who was just a hair away from hexing her or punching her in the face or both. It felt like being in the middle of a stare down between an injured lion and an angry mother bear.
“I loved you.” Hermione hissed and Ron heard the silent accusation. You lied to me. You used me.
She pointed her wand against his chest, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. He didn’t have the heart to defend.
“You said you loved me!”
Ron just looked at her and waited for the hex to hit him.
There were steps on the stairs and the rest of the family must have heard the uproar in the living room.
Ron really wanted to answer.
He wanted to tell her that not everything was a lie. That he still loved her. Loves her. But his mind was empty and then the awaited curse hit him and there’s a bunch of birds hacking into his arms which he used desperately try protect his face and eyes.
He heard people screaming and crying and Ron just couldn’t make a sense of it.
Blood was roaring behind his ears, his heartbeat was like a blur and he didn’t know how to breath any more. His mind was a cacophony of screaming and no air and sharp beaks leaving piecing pain in his arms shoulders and scalp.
And then there’s just blackness.
It was quiet.
And warm.
His body ached and he could see the red blotches of light behind his eyelids.
There was the silent sound of relaxed breathing and the homely cracking of wood in the fireplace.
Something was on his arms that felt like cotton and a big hand with bony fingers soothed over his hair.
There was a smell of book dust, Mum’s food and oil from muggle machines in the garden shack.
“Dad?” he croaked and blinked blearily into the well-known face.
Dad was sitting on the armrest.
As soon as Ron sat up he slid into the space next to him and pulled him against his side.
For a moment Ron needed to digest the closeness.
The last time his father had hugged him, he still had been small enough to be tugged under his father’s arm and Dad had a few muscles and fat deposits more than now.
At this point in life Ron is taller than him and Dad's arms are a little too thin to be comfortable. Usually Mum is the one that does the hugging and stuffing you full with food and Dad does the “we need to talk about your life choices, son” talks. They have some kind of division of tasks. It works for them.
“Son.” his Dad rumbled and the gentleness in his voice made Ron feel even more guilty.
“I’m sorry I ruined Christmas.” he muttered studying his feet. “Where’s Hermione?”
Dad pressed him a little bit more forceful against his side and for a moment there was just the sound of Mum cooking in the kitchen. Ron looked into his fathers face. His mouth was a thin white line but his eyes were soft and warm.
Ron has his eyes. Same shape, same colour.
He’d always liked them.
It’s one of the few things he really likes about himself.
“You did nothing wrong, Ron.” Dad said and there's that calm, good-natured authority of his father that makes it impossible for Ron to contradict no matter how old he is.
“We were happy that you brought your partner with you. Fatin is smart and kind and obviously cares a lot for you and I am very happy that you have someone like this in your life.” there’s another silence.
Ron feels himself relax next to him.
“We’re your family. We want you to be happy and have people around you that treat you well. Your mother and I want to accompany you on your way as long as we are around, but you’re making your own choices and it’s not our place to judge you for who you choose to love. That’s nobody’s business but yours.”
Ron bit his lips to prevent himself from crying.
He’d always known his family loves him and even if Mum would have complained about the lack of grandchildren if he’d confessed his gay thing to her as teenager, she’d still always loved him. And Dad...Ron always suspected he didn’t care much about his children’s partners unless they were able to tell him about Muggle customs or something else interesting.
“Did Hermione...Did she go home?” he asked.
“How bad was it? Did she cry a lot?”
“We asked her to go and cool off. Don’t feel bad for her. Injuring you just because she couldn’t deal with seeing you having another partner was wrong. Even if you two weren’t divorced for over ten years, it wouldn’t be an excuse to be violent against you.”
Ron felt a careful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Dad, I’ve dealt with worse than this. I’ve worked as an Auror and I’ve been in the war. I was hit by a giant stone statue at the age of eleven for Merlin's sake. that’s just a few scratches… I guess I deserve it...been keeping this thing from her for so long and all...”
His dad let out a huff of displease and got up as they heard Mum call for dinner from the kitchen.
“ No one deserves violence from their ex. Especially not my kids.” his father said decidedly before making his way to the kitchen.